Burning Bulls, Broken Bones: Sacrificial Ritual in the Context of Palace Period Minoan Religion 9781407302805, 9781407332840

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BAR S1792 2008 CROMARTY

Burning Bulls, Broken Bones: Sacrificial Ritual in the Context of Palace Period Minoan Religion

BURNING BULLS, BROKEN BONES

Robert James Cromarty

BAR International Series 1792 B A R

2008

Burning Bulls, Broken Bones: Sacrificial Ritual in the Context of Palace Period Minoan Religion

Robert James Cromarty

BAR International Series 1792 2008

ISBN 9781407302805 paperback ISBN 9781407332840 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407302805 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

BAR

PUBLISHING

This study is dedicated to my Mother, a truly amazing lady who has sacrificed much to allow me much freedom. Also to the memory of my Father, in the hope that he would be proud. Lastly, to my partner Rachel, who has helped in ways she would not have realised.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to extend my thanks to many people for their assistance in the production of this volume which is a slight adaptation of my PhD thesis, submitted to the University of Durham in May 2007. Firstly, my thanks to BAR for agreeing to publish my thesis. Secondly, to all those whom I dealt with in seeking to acquire copyright permission for the figures, especially Prof. Paul Astrom, the photograph and publication staff at the Ashmolean Museum, MacMillan Publishers, the Nancy Evans Photograph Archive, and Amalia Kassisis at The British School of Archaeology at Athens. I should also like to thank Dr. Oliver Dickinson for his efforts as my PhD supervisor. Likewise, thanks to those other Aegean specialists whom I contacted during the writing of the thesis, all of whom were very generous with information. Special thanks, however, must go to Dr. John Chapman (University of Durham) and Dr. Yannis Hamilakis (University of Southampton) for their very helpful and learned comments and criticisms as the examiners for the PhD. However, the greatest debt is owed both to my partner Rachel, who has supported me unfailingly throughout the process, and to my mother without whom none of this would have been possible. It is to these pillars of strength that this study is dedicated.

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CONTENTS Introduction

5

Chapter 1: Terms, Conditions and Processes

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1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7

11 13 14 15 17 18 21

Past studies of Minoan religion and the Importance of Sacrifice Double Axe Horns of Consecration Ayia Triada Sarcophagus Zooarchaeology Burning and Butchery Zooarchaeology and Ritual

Chapter 2: Site Catalogue

23

2.1 Domestic, Urban and Palace Sanctuaries 2.1.1 Gournia Shrine 2.1.2 Karphi 2.1.3 Knossos – Shrine of the Double Axes 2.1.4 Knossos – Temple Repositories 2.1.5 Malia – Salle β

24 25 26 27 28 30

2.2 Peak Sanctuaries 2.2.1 Atsipadhes Korakias 2.2.2 Gonies 2.2.3 Juktas 2.2.4 Kophinas 2.2.5 Petsophas 2.2.6 Traostalos 2.2.7 Vrysinas

31 32 33 34 36 37 39 41

2.3 Extra-Urban Sanctuaries 2.3.1 Anemospilia 2.3.2 Kato Syme

42 43 45

2.4 Cave Sanctuaries 2.4.1 Arkalochori 2.4.2 Idaean Cave 2.4.3 Kamares 2.4.4 Patsos 2.4.5 Psychro 2.4.6 Skotino

47 48 50 52 54 56 58

Chapter 3: Interpretation

59

3.1.1 Faunal remains – including a comparison with secular deposits 3.1.2 Ash Deposits 3.1.3 Altars 3.1.4 Human Sacrifice

61 65 66 68

3.2 The Ritual Context of Sacrifice 3.2.1 Libation 3.2.2 Votive deposition

70 71 75

3.3 Aggregated View 3.3.1 Geographical and Temporal Variation of the Faunal Remains 3.3.2 Minoan Sacrifice 3.3.3 The Purpose of Rites and the Purpose of Sites 3.3.4 Minoan Feasting 3.3.5 Use of Animals in Funerary Practices 3.3.6 Maritime Sacrifice

78 79 82 87 92 95 97

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3.3.7 Ecstatic Religion 3.3.8 ‘Minoan’ Religion

100 103

Conclusions

107

Appendix 1: Figures Appendix 2: Maps

108 147

Bibliography and Abbreviations

149

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1989: 170). Thus there was a religious, communal and alimentary purpose to the θυσία ceremony. The same multi-layer significance in relation to any possible Minoan rite and this is one factor that must be investigated in any study of the subject.

INTRODUCTION After a century of study, the archaeology of Minoan Crete has reached a turning point. With the publication of Labyrinth Revisited: Rethinking Minoan Archaeology (Hamilakis (ed.), 2002a), a new generation of Minoan scholars voiced their frustration with the scholars of the past and their academic focus: “The material culture of Minoan Crete…remains largely mute, especially on a number of important issues” (Ibid. 3). While much is known of chronology, architecture, iconography and pottery sequences, comparatively little can be said with any certainty about aspects which made up much of everyday life. Minoan religion is such a case.

But even this interpretation can lead to certain preconceptions. Sacrifice can be personal, communal or state-controlled. Each of these variants places a different emphasis upon the ritual. Unfortunately, from an archaeological perspective, unless they are accompanied by a textual source or the find spot is undeniable in its character – a private dwelling, for example – then it is sometimes difficult to identify which of these is the most applicable interpretation. Ultimately it comes to a point where we have to define each ritual within its cultural context.

Although it has received much attention, Minoan religion has never been fully reconstructed, understood or analysed. Too much has been attempted – for the most part academics have approached Minoan religion from one viewpoint or preconception in an attempt to create a coherent system of belief. Nilsson, for example, in perhaps the greatest treatise on Aegean religion, his Minoan-Mycenaean Religion (1950), analyses the evidence from the aspect of its continuation into the religious practices of the Archaic and Classical periods of Greece. Such an approach is fundamentally flawed, as from the very outset a degree of objectivity is lost, and differences and similarities may be ignored or emphasised so as to make the system seem more convincing.1 However, in this study I will make little effort to reconstruct an overall system of belief except where it will elucidate my primary focus – the role of sacrificial ritual in the religious organisation of Crete in the Bronze Age. As such it is necessary to view sacrifice in the context of the other ritual practices which were current on Crete at the time. Of course, the nature of the religious system does define the rituals performed within that system. The characteristics of a monotheistic religious system are quite different from those that polytheism requires.

While this study may seem straightforward from an investigative point-of-view,3 and to some extent a study in semiotics, to establish the existence and prevalence of ‘sacrifice’ in Minoan culture, there are certain methodological and source-based problems. The primary issue is that of the archaeological survival of the key evidence; this must be addressed as it directly impinges upon any results that may possibly be obtained. The primary evidence for sacrificial ritual must come from faunal remains in either cult or burial contexts. The problem is that it is exactly these remains that are unlikely to survive for 4000 years in the archaeological record. This is due to not only the conditions of preservation – soil acidity, moisture content and a multiplicity of other factors – but also human activity such as looting or the later development of sites in ensuing periods. However, beyond the environmental conditions, it is the issue of human intervention that is a key determining factor, and it should not be regarded as a problem of the long-distant past. The actions of the archaeologists themselves, perhaps more than any other factor, affect the evidence which we have at our disposal.4

Sacrificial rituals are known from many religious systems and, of course, each culture has their own nuances and beliefs attached to them. This said, in the past sacrifice has generally been viewed as the direct interaction between mortal and the divine, often imploring the deity for the benefit of the worshipper: the Classical notion of do ut des or do ut abeas (Harrison, 1922: 4).2 However, it must also be acknowledged that ritual has a purpose beyond religious activity; often it possesses a secular aspect that is equally as important. For example, the Classical θυσία rite was directly associated with the reinforcement of the notion of community; through the sharing of meat an individual could identify himself as being a member of a community of meat-eaters (Hartog,

The last century of study has seen very little emphasis placed upon the physical remains from cult locations in attempts to reconstruct the rituals performed therein,5 and as such the conclusions that have been reached can at times seem questionable. The current research situation can be summarised as follows: “Based on a corpus of evidence garnered from sites incompletely excavated or identified through unsystematic surveys, summarily published or completely unpublished, yet repeatedly discussed, endlessly categorised and 3

However, it must be remembered that, if we follow Hawkes’ famous ‘ladder of reliability’ in archaeological inference, in which he insists “to infer to the religious institutions and spiritual life is the hardest inference of all” (Hawkes, 1954: 162), the study of religious and ritual practices may be far from straightforward. 4 The problems for the individual sites are discussed in their entries in the site catalogue (See Chapter Two). 5 See below, p. 11ff

1 I do not suggest that Nilsson deliberately manipulated his study, simply that given his hypothesis his concern is on seeing these connections between the distant periods perhaps to the detriment of the overall study. Nilsson’s text remains one of the most significant pieces of work on Minoan religion. 2 “I give so that you might give”, “I give so that you might avert”.

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sometimes even reconstructed on paper, this specialised field of Minoan studies is understandably all too eager for new information that seems to fill the gaps in the evidence and may generate fresh insights” (Lebessi and Muhly, 1990: 333) Thus it is into this somewhat bleak arena that this study moves. I make no apologies that this will be a synthetic piece, an attempt to correlate a disparate collection of data, not only to address the limitations of that data and those who supplied it, but also to arrive, hopefully, at a reconstruction of a Bronze Age religious practice based on a sound archaeological and anthropological footing. Where possible I shall rely on the physical remains, quantifying, identifying and contextualising their appearances so that an overall picture of the island-wide employment of animals in ritual settings becomes evident. By doing so it should be possible to distinguish any geographical or temporal variation in the practices. It is the framework which this will provide around which the secondary sources for sacrificial ritual, such as the iconography, must be fitted – to do otherwise would be methodologically unsound. Such an approach might allow a fuller reconstruction of not only the religious purpose of such rites, but also the social aspects, if any, attached to them. Thus hopefully in this study I shall avoid “the twin pitfalls of damagingly negative pessimism on the one hand, and uncritical optimism on the other” (Renfrew, 1985: 3).

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(Brück, 1999: 316). This is simply because many of the methodologies adopted for identifying ‘ritual’, such as repetition and expressive action, are also shared by nonritual activities. Thus, almost by default, the archaeologist and the anthropologist have fallen back on the equation of the ritual with the non-functional (Ibid. 317).

CHAPTER ONE: TERMS, CONDITIONS AND PROCESSES “It is a capital mistake to theorise before you have all the facts…It biases the judgement” (Sherlock Holmes, “A Study in Scarlet”)

However, this is very much a modern Western viewpoint and to interpret the activities of other cultures and periods in terms of this decidedly non-universal perspective is misguided. The very fact that rituals are culturally specific entails that they communicate something of the idiosyncrasies of that culture’s perspective of the world and its operating procedures. Thus to the original performers the rituals doubtless appear rational, although to an interpreter of a different cultural background they would appear irrational: “they [the rituals] appear irrational only to those who cannot follow the historically-specific logic which produced them (Ibid. 321). To those who practised them, many rituals have a deeply practical purpose designed to achieve specific ends.

Throughout this study a number of terms will be used that, while they are indispensable for the study of religion, have become so loaded through their repeated usage that before they are used again it seems prudent to define and qualify them before seeing if the rituals of Minoan Crete can be described utilising them. For as Burkert sagely points out: “If one tries to translate one religion into the language of another, one finds…that this will only be possible to a limited degree” (Burkert, 1983: xxi). Of course, ritual itself is one such term, and as such it is only fitting to begin by defining what we mean by it. “Biology has defined ritual as a behavioural pattern that has lost its primary function” (Ibid. 23), but such an interpretation is not appropriate for a religious ceremony. Ritual serves to re-affirm both the relationship between the human and the divine, and between humans themselves. Through repetition information that is considered important is reinforced so as to avoid misunderstanding or misuse, or as Durkheim stated: “It is through common action that society becomes self-aware” (Durkheim, 1912: 598). Thus it should be clear that ritual cannot be separated from secular society. The traditional usage of the term by archaeologists, to account for features in the archaeological record that seem to yield no practical purpose, is therefore misguided, as has been stated “ritual is an overworked and “ambitious” word” (Beattie, 1980: 29). Ritual serves to place an individual within a social and religious context. For example, the citizens of Athens’ participation in the deme-based sacrifices of the fourth century served to unite the community as well as being the major source of meat for an entire social group (Rosivach, 1994: 67). Thus while ritual may at first appear atavistic, it is never circumstantial or superfluous. To deny the importance of ritual is to deny a culture the ability to deny and reinforce their socio-religious organisation. Those who participated in such rituals could count themselves as a member of the community, thus those who did not were excluded. The differential access to rituals is likely to have served to define and accentuate differences in society; this is the diacritical quality of ritual.

The result of this approach has created two further drastically different methods of studying ritual. Firstly, those who would adhere to Hawkes’ famous view6 have reduced ritual to a subject about which interpretation is largely irrelevant as “nothing is truly knowable “ (Ibid. 323). The second is a more recent development, intimately associated with the post-processual focus on the social and ideological, and a deliberate effort to unite the concepts of ritual and everyday life. Barrett (1991: 6) nicely summarises this approach: “Ritual and religious knowledges are thus built out of the same material conditions as everyday life; they cannot be analysed as though they somehow have a life of their own”. However, this approach has the inherent danger that every activity may be swallowed by the ever-expanding ‘ritual’. This latter approach is a reaction to the ‘sacred-profane’ divide which, by stressing the total importance of ritual and essentially removing the concept of a separate ‘sacred’ realm, serves only to create the antithesis to the former approach, still without a sufficient framework.7 Brück (1999: 325) disputes the argument that every action has both a symbolic and practical aspect, but claims instead that every practical action is inherently symbolic “as it reproduces the sets of values and social relations which are embedded in cosmological schemes” (Ibid. 326). Thus for Brück an investigation into ritual identification is somewhat redundant, as every archaeological study is by definition an investigation into “prehistoric rationality” (Ibid. 327).

Joanna Brück (1999) has convincingly argued that the conception of ritual as it is used in both archaeology and anthropology “is a product of post-Enlightenment rationalism” (313). The majority of work done on ritual has, either explicitly or implicitly, used a rationalirrational, real-ideal, or practical-symbolic dichotomy in their identification of ritual.

Therefore, ritual must be seen as reflective of cultural cosmology, a means of communicating understanding of the world and one’s place within it, and perhaps also a 6

See above Footnote 3. But even in this respect there is still a post-processual dualism of symbolic and practical, as within every activity there is still a tendency to identify distinct ritual or practical qualities within a specific activity.

The reason for this is understandable for “it has in fact proved impossible to propose watertight lists of criteria for the identification of ritual in the archaeological record

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means of expressing inclusion within that cosmology. In addition, it must also be noted that ritual is distinct from religion, as both of these concepts are socio-cultural creations and the ways in which they interact and overlap are different within each cultural setting.8 Hicks (1999: xxii) notes that: “Some rituals – kneeling in a mosque, for instance – would be considered religious. Other rituals – for example, nodding the head to signify agreement – lack any kind of religious intent”. Thus, “ritual behaviour appears in various modes and serves a variety of purposes” (Ibid.). However, in all cases ritual can be said to have a communicative aspect, which has been seen to be its fundamental purpose: “Ritual action…serves to express the status of the actor vis-à-vis his [sic.] environment, both physical and social; it may also serve to alter the status of the actor” (Hicks, 1999: 182).

Universal theories of sacrifice, e.g. that it is based on the do ut des principle, fail to account for the specific cosmological idiosyncrasies which rituals are used to communicate and reinforce. Even Girard’s theory (1972, La Violence et les sacré, Paris: Bernard Grusset [referenced by Valeri, 1985: 68-9]) that sacrifice derives from an inherent need in human society to expel violence in a controlled manner, in order to achieve a form of cultural catharsis, is insufficient. For example, it fails to account for practices such as the Greek θυσία ritual where the moment of the kill does not seem to be of the highest importance (at least in terms of the iconographic evidence), but rather the subsequent burning of specific anatomical elements. It is clear, in my opinion, that universal definitions of sacrifice are not overly suitable for accounting for practices in geographically and temporally discrete cultures. Hicks (1999: 179) also notes that while all explanations for sacrifice – the victim is identified with a god who is then sacramentally eaten; the victim is a bribe for a god; the victim stands as a substitute for the giver of the sacrifice; the victim is a representation of ‘sin’ – “may be true or partly true for particular situations, but they cannot all be true at once, and none of them reach into the heart of the problem, which is, why should the killing of an animal be endowed with sacramental quality at all?”.

Of all socio-religious rituals, none possesses such an inherent power and significance – to western eyes at least – as sacrifice. Sacrifice has been defined by Hubert and Mauss as a means of communicating with a divinity or religious force through the consecration of an intermediary victim, which is always destroyed during the course of the rite (Hubert and Mauss, 1964: 1). According to Hubert and Mauss, the rite imbues the victim with religious energy or sacredness; it becomes a medium between the world of the sacred and that of the profane (This is perhaps a key example of the matter that Brück addressed). The release of this ‘religious energy’, through the destruction of the victim, is the essential part of the oblation, differentiating it from other forms of offering. However, such an approach to sacrifice is simply an extension of the sacred-profane divide, as within this framework there is a tendency to further subdivide ritual into distinct, discrete categories, such as Hubert and Mauss’ category of sacrifice. Any such attempt is fraught with difficulty as, depending on the cultural cosmology, any single practice may contain elements that may place it in one of several subcategories.

However, Hicks does not attempt to define sacrifice any further himself, a rather telling fact, I feel. Sacrifice is a problematic term, that much is clear. Yet it would seem possible to mark a stark difference between burnt and non-burnt sacrificial rituals as, in the case of the θυσία at least, it is the burning that is the key ritual component that serves to define θυσία as θυσία. Therefore, if there were a Minoan burnt sacrificial ritual, we may speculate that again the burning rather than the killing may have been the defining aspect. Thus the presence of evidence for burning in association with faunal remains, or more properly with specific anatomical units at repeated locations, would indicate this process.

It is for exactly these reasons that the definition of sacrifice used in this must be made clear. If sacrifice is a form of ritual, then sacrifice is a method of communicating an aspect of cultural cosmology. However, the majority of theories regarding sacrifice, in particular that of Hubert and Mauss (1964), have been entrenched in the language of the sacred-profane divide which Brück has highlighted as being a fallacy of western academic thinking. But ‘sacrifice’ has additional problems of definition attached to it as theorists have attempted to define the process in universal terms, yet anthropologists and archaeologists apply the term to culturally distinct practices.

Yet for non-burnt animal sacrifices a definition is more complex. The presence of faunal remains in an area that has been archaeologically identified as a cult area is testament to the presence of and / or use of animals in practices at these locations. However, the precise nature of the practice must really be identified in accordance with other archaeological finds. Typically, in the sacrificial rituals of most cultures (regardless of the ideological motivation), at least part of the carcass of the victim is used for a purpose other than that of the satisfaction of the immediate alimentary needs of those who performed the sacrifice. This has often been seen by modern scholars as a gift to the gods / powers in exchange for some benefit. Whether or not this is the cosmological motivation behind the allocation of part of the carcass, in the majority of cases the same anatomical units are repeatedly used as they are viewed as cosmologically significant in the ritual process. Therefore, the repeated presence of specific anatomical

8 Insoll (2004: 22-23) makes the point that religion has traditionally been viewed by archaeologists as one of several aspects of human life, along with technology, subsistence, economy and so forth. However, he makes the point that it might be better to see religion as of primary importance in structuring human life. This is an interesting point, but I feel that this is in effect ‘cosmology’ , defined as a world outlook, and so the latter term is preferred here.

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units may be confidently used as an indication of a sacrificial practice.

Of course, such a view of sacrifice assumes that the most significant rituals were those sponsored by the state itself, for unifying purposes, and essentially sidelines private worship and sacrifice. While the replacement or reconfiguration of local allegiances is typically fostered through the use of specific symbolism and rituals (Kertzer, 1991: 88-89), this never occurs to the absolute detriment of personal or kinship-based concerns. For example, the purpose of the Panathenaia, especially the quadrennial version, was to reinforce the unity of all the members of the community of Athens. By the second half of the fifth century B.C., the sacrifice of hundreds of oxen at the Great Altar of Athena on the Acropolis and the attendant feasting “came to be regarded as a symbol of the privileged status of the most powerful city in the Aegean world” (Shapiro, 1996: 216); a scholium to Aristophanes even states that “at the Panathenaia, all Athenian colonies customarily sent a bull to be sacrificed” (Palaima, 2004: 21). But participation in these huge ceremonies and their reinforcement of the supercommunity did not diminish the importance and ritual significance of the rites performed by the demes or by individuals. A similar multi-level structure may be assumed plausibly for Minoan Crete, even if not to the extent of the involvement in a ‘nation state’. Only the context of the individual deposits will indicate the social involvement in the ritual process.

Thus we are moving towards a technical / performative definition for sacrifice, rather than an ideological one, that involves the killing of an animal, in an area with cultic archaeological traits that serve to define it as a cult area, where at least an anatomically consistent portion of the victim is used for a purpose that does not satisfy the food requirements of those persons present. While such a definition may not have the anthropological universality of that of Hubert and Mauss, it nevertheless is more archaeologically visible and viable. This is, of course, a basic definition, the primary data set, to which other details specific to the Minoan evidence may be added. By this I mean evidence such as the possible existence of an altar structure,9 specific sacrificial instruments,10 representation of particular species and / or anatomical elements,11 and so forth. These serve to add cosmologically specific detail to the basic data set and may allow for an approximation of the motivation for the practice.12 As such we should be able to define whether there is a discrete Minoan variant of the basic sacrificial data set should one be found to have existed. In the majority of cultures, however, the actual killing of an animal in a rite is typically followed by a communal feast – indeed Robertson-Smith saw this as the abiding purpose of sacrifice, the communion meal between god and kinship group.13 One only has to consider the Classical Greek θυσία ritual where the gods’ portion of the sacrifice, μηρία, is distinctly poorer than that of the worshippers themselves.14 The notion of feasting has been in vogue recently in relation to the Aegean Bronze Age and its significance in relation to the Minoan faunal material will be discussed more fully in the later chapters.15 Suffice to say, for the moment, that food is a basic element in the construction and maintenance of social relations of power and inequality. Indeed such communal activities are one of the primary arenas of social action, one only needs to think of the North American ‘Potlatch’ feasts. Thus we should not be surprised to find a similar concept regarding the ritual exploitation of food resources extant in Minoan Crete.

However, there is a problem. From an archaeological perspective it is difficult to differentiate between sacrifice and a communal feast. The presence of bone in several cult locations16 attest to the use of animals, and their meat, in ritualised surroundings. It is equally clear that some of these are deliberate deposits, not simply waste materials or natural death as articulated skeletons are completely unknown. It is interesting to note that a similar pattern of specific bone selection can be observed in the recent re-examination of the bones from Blegen’s excavations at Pylos (Stocker and Davis 2004). In particular, the bones found in Room 7 were almost totally limited to the mandibles, femurs and humeri from bovines (there were parts of a single red deer in two of the six bone groups) (Ibid. 182). If faunal analysis at Minoan cult sites reveals the presence of bones not usually associated with the butchery of animals for prime meat cuts, for instance skulls and mandibles, then we might presume that sacrifice, the oblation to a religious power, took place rather than feasting – although the presence of one does not automatically preclude the other. Often, given that archaeologically we can never fully recreate a ritual practice and the social atmosphere that surrounded it, it is left to secondary or tertiary ritual indicators to provide further context for the nature of the ritual itself.

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See below, pp. 10 and Chapter Three, pp. 67-68. See below, pp. 13ff. 11 See below, pp. 61ff. 12 For example, Bell (1997: 112) notes that “the use of incineration and smoke to carry an offering aloft correlates with the belief that the gds reside somewhere beyond the human sphere; immersion is used to convey offerings to water deities, and abandonment of an offering in a ravine or on a hilltop is usually sufficient to convey it to gods thought to be abroad in the natural environment”. Thus cosmology directly affects practice. 13 Holocausts are the exception rather than the rule. But here even the notion of communion is founded in the Judeo-Christian tradition. 14 This is explained mythologically through the deception of Prometheus and his wrapping the osphus in fat as a means of tricking the Olympians. 15 See Chapter Three: pp. 93ff 10

A further definition that requires exploration in this study is that of the place of sacrifice. “The cult needs an altar” (Nilsson, 1950: 117) - this is how Nilsson begins his discussion of the subject of the Minoan altar. Thus, as we 16

See Chapter Two: Site Catalogue – in particular the entries for Juktas, Psychro and Kato Syme.

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might expect, he sees altars in most Minoan cult contexts: “Where we find a quadrangular construction of some height upon which nothing has been superimposed, we may often infer that it was an altar” (Ibid.). However, Marinatos has repeatedly stated that there are “no fixed Minoan sacrificial altar structures” (1988:9). Clearly two such distinguished scholars, with two such divergent opinions, cannot both be correct, and so the dichotomy must arise from a disparity of definition. This clearly illustrates the need to define the term ‘altar’.

would be strong enough to support such large animals; personally I do not believe so.20 Secondly, why should there be fixed altar structures at some sites and not others if sacrifice was an island-wide Minoan ritual concept; if portable sacrificial tables were the norm, then fixed structures would be an incongruity. My final objection is of an anthropological nature. In most state-based societies, religious and ritual activities take place in specific locations. Indeed even in nomadic cultures, such as the Hadza or the ¡Kung! Bushmen, rituals must take place in designated sites in order to be viewed as a continuation of a history of ritual observance.21 The same, in my opinion, is true of a sacrificial altar. The significance of an altar comes from its fixity and the history of ritual associated with it; the mass of sacrificial remains at Classical Olympia is a good example of the awareness of the importance of such a history. A portable altar loses some of this significance and becomes an essentially functional object, unless it is unique, of course, but this is patently not the case with the classes of Minoan artefact.

In my opinion, the key word comes from Marinatos’ comment and that is “fixed”. A great proportion of the Minoan cult paraphernalia and equipment seems to have been portable. For example, the figurines found at nearly all peak sanctuaries are very small, typically around 1520 cm in height. Although one of the recent discoveries at the peak sanctuary of Sklaverochori is a 13cm long foot, and a corresponding right arm with fist, from a statue around 70cm or more in height, but this is very much the exception to the general rule. A similar phenomenon of small size may be evident for offering apparatus. Offering tables have been found at several sites, Psychro for example, and these are easily portable. They are also manifold in type: the pedestalled offering table17 (Fig. 1), the “Minoan incurved altar” (Fig. 2), and the tripod offering table (Fig. 3): there are also several types of object designed for libation and liquid offering; several types of “kernoi” (Figs. 4a, 4b, 4c), cupule stones and libation tables (Fig. 5). These artefacts reveal two things: first, that portable cult equipment was widespread on Minoan Crete; and secondly, they suggest that a wide range of types of offering were made. It is also clear that none of these objects are overly suitable as a structure for the sacrifice of a large animal such as a bull. Half may be immediately discounted as they are expressly designed for liquids, the remainder are simply too small to have been utilised as a surface for ritual butchery.

It is for these reasons that I do not lend much credence to the supposition regarding wooden offering tables, not to mention their non-existence in the archaeological record. Similarly, I do not regard the other classes of portable offering devices as altars. Thus in this study the term altar will only be used in reference to those fixed structures in cult complexes. With these definitions in place it should be possible to assess their suitability for application to the Minoan evidence presented in the following chapters. Of course, by virtue of the very fact that such a re-evaluation of the evidence pertaining to sacrificial ritual is necessary, it follows that the current research situation is insufficient and that current theories are unconvincing or unsubstantiated. In the past, the study of sacrifice in a Minoan context has been largely cursory, normally only a sideline in treatments of the religious system as a whole. A typical example would be Nilsson’s massive treatise, The Minoan-Mycenaean Religion, where sacrifice is discussed explicitly for only six pages (229235) out of some six hundred. I believe that this occurred due to the assumption, through analogy with Classical Greece and the Bronze Age Near East, that scholars believed they knew exactly what took place on Minoan Crete in relation to sacrifice.

This leaves us with a problem; for while altar-like structures exist at some sites, notable Juktas, Psychro, and several examples in the palaces as around the West Court at Knossos, they are by no means ubiquitous. The sanctuary at Kato Syme, for example, while exhibiting a great mass of faunal remains,18 has no formal altar. In an effort to address this apparent imbalance of evidence it has been suggested that wooden (and therefore perishable) tables were used for the preparation of victims. Marinatos (1986, 1988, 1993), building on the work of Sakellarakis, has been one of the greatest proponents of this theory. Using the evidence of sealings and the Ayia Triada sarcophagus,19 she conjectures that these structures were the normal means of supporting the sacrificial victim. For example, she sees the narrow ledges at Salle β (Malia) as being part of the supporting structure for such an object (1986:21). I have several issues with this theory – one of the most fundamental is to question as to whether a portable wooden structure

20

Marinatos herself concedes that a table structure supported by only the ledges would be too flimsy (1986: 21). 21 The ancient Scythians are a notable exception here – as they used neither fixed altars nor temple structures. See Chapter Three: 67 for a discussion of this matter.

17

See Platon and Pararas 1991 for a full treatment of this type. See catalogue entry, p. 45ff. 19 For a discussion of this significant artefact, see below, p. 15ff. 18

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recent years; although the notion of ‘aspects’ of a Great Goddess does still occur and, similarly, there is still much discussion of the division between celestial and chthonic deities. However, in general it is fair to say that all reconstructions of Minoan religion have emphasised the universal features of the archaeology, or possibly created them (?), while ignoring the local aspects and differences between the sites. Perhaps, in an effort to see a monolithic ‘Minoan’ religion, a fundamental misunderstanding has been made in regard to what was actually going on.

PAST STUDIES OF MINOAN RELIGION AND THE IMPORTANCE OF SACRIFICE Massive numbers of texts have been written on Minoan religion and many of these texts, including very recent studies such as Moss’ The Minoan Pantheon, have been attempts to characterise the Minoan religious system or to identify the powers which it venerated. As these texts have continued to be produced for over a century, one should immediately realise that the subject is still very much unsettled and, while there has been some general consensus, the nature of Minoan religion is still unclear.

From the very outset it was assumed, by scholars other than Evans, who believed in the beginnings of his study that the Minoans adhered to some form of idyllic pastoralism,23 that the Minoans practised sacrificial ritual and that only the details needed to be established. Nilsson’s (1950: 229-235) brief account is fairly standard in relation to two primary aspects of early theories about Minoan sacrifice: that bulls and other bovids were the primary victims and that the instrument of sacrifice was the double-axe. Both of these assumptions were drawn principally from the iconographic evidence. Minoan art and decoration has coloured theories on many aspects of their society and as such it is important to discuss it in some detail in regard to sacrifice.

The earliest works on Minoan religion were those of Sir Arthur Evans, which remain highly influential even today. Evans’ thoughts were dominated by the religious and cultic concepts of Crete. Indeed, the opening pages of his great syncretic work, The Palace of Minos, are replete with these concerns, including statements about the “Priest Kings” for example (PM I: 3-5). Moreover, Evans was convinced of the oneness of Crete during the Bronze Age: “The culture as a whole…shows an essential unity” (PM I: 13). For Evans, there was no issue in proposing that the religion of Crete was a unified ‘Minoan’ religion, that of the Great Goddess and her numerous aspects. This was the general view for much of the first half of the Twentieth century – that the Minoans worshipped one Great Goddess figure to whom were ascribed a number of functions and a great significance – with Evans generally acknowledged as the major proponent.22

That the bull is the sacrificial victim par excellence in art is very clear. Numerous seals and sealings clearly show a couchant bovid lying on or standing near a table (Figs. 6 and 7). Similarly, the Ayia Triada sarcophagus shows such a scene on one of its long sides (Fig. 8). The obvious problem with this evidence is that it is circumstantial; nothing in these images explicitly refers to sacrifice. For example, the moment of the kill is never actually shown, this is assumed to have been done in a ritual manner. The origins of this theory seem to have come from a lengthy analogy with the rites of Classical Greece, for which we possess archaeological, iconographic and comprehensible literary sources. Marinatos (1988 passim) conjectures that the structure and arrangement of the ritual processes were similar enough; i.e. the leading of the animal to the place of sacrifice, the setting up of the ceremony (preliminary rites), slaughter, and post-kill activity. It is true that there are some similarities in the iconographic lexicon: for example, an animal is led in procession on a miniature fresco from Akrotiri (Fig. 9). However, this is only if we assume that every depiction of a bull on a seal or fresco is to be associated with a supposed sacrificial ritual. I do not believe that there are sufficient indications in all of the scenes, especially on the seals, to presume this to be true. Moreover, we should not be tempted, because of a dearth of Minoan evidence, into using analogy from the wealth of Classical evidence.

Nilsson was the first of the Minoan scholars to propose a system different to that of the single Great Goddess. He neatly summarises his opinion as follows: “An early religious stage always shows gods with more or less specialised functions covering only a part of the life of man or of nature, and peoples in the stage of civilisation reached by the Minoans always have a plurality [my italics] of gods and goddesses. There is an a priori probability that the same was the case in Minoan Crete” (MMR 392-393). Nilsson, and other scholars such as Sp. Marinatos, very reasonably justified this position on the wildly varying types of sanctuary and the artefacts within them. This shows that, on some level at least, the variance between the sites has been acknowledged previously, although this observation was often ignored. Obviously the belief systems that were conceived of for the Minoans are more detailed than this brief summary would suggest, but the major division has been between mono- and polytheism with the latter winning out in 22 However, Nilsson (1950: 392, n.3) quotes a letter from Sir Arthur Evans where Evans is less attached to this Great Goddess theory than is generally acknowledged. I repeat it in part: “I have always in mind the possibility that the Goddess who appears in so many relations in Minoan scenes and impersonations may cover what were really regarded as separate divinities with separate names – equivalent to Artemis, Rhea, Athena, Aphrodite etc. But as a provisional procedure it is convenient, in default of more definite knowledge, to treat the Goddess as essentially the same Great Nature Goddess under various aspects – celestial with the dove, chthonic with the snake etc. etc.”.

The primary Classical sacrificial rite was the θυσία, a burnt animal sacrifice. It is important to fully understand 23 See Evans, A.J. Sir, 1901, ‘The Mycenaean Tree and Pillar Cult’, in Journal of Helladic Studies 21: 99-204.

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this ritual as it has affected so much of the work on the specifics of the supposed Minoan practice. In the θυσία, an animal (usually a bull or cow) was led to a fixed altar, the place of sacrifice; barley grains and water were sprinkled around as purification and preliminary offerings. The animal was then encouraged to nod its head, in an effort to show a willingness to be sacrificed. The officiating priest-butcher, the μαγειρός, ensuring that the animal had first been stunned with a blow to the head, then took the sacrificial weapon, a knife covered in a bowl of barley grains, raised the victim’s head and slit the throat of the animal. The blood was then daubed upon the altar, which it should be noted the animal was not raised onto, and the post kill ritual took place. This took the form of the viscera (σπλαγχνα) and the tail bones (οσφυς) being wrapped in the fat of the animal and burned on top of the altar as the gods’ portion of the sacrifice (μηρία). The remaining meat was then divided among the assembled crowd, with the μαγειρός receiving a prime cut.

iconography, and as we know “One swallow does not make a summer”. As a result of such focus being placed upon the iconography, various aspects of the supposed sacrificial practice have been reconstructed from it. In particular, two symbols have been repeatedly seen as sacrificial referents: the double-axe and the ‘horns of consecration’. As two of the main symbols in the Minoan artistic and iconographic canon, they have much influenced reconstructions of the Bronze Age religious process, and consequently discussions of sacrifice in a Minoan context.

All of the above details, bar the moment of “supreme violence” (Marinatos, 1988: 15), are depicted in the Classical iconography, often with a suggestion of the deity either in epiphanic or statuary form (Fig. 10). No such detail exists in the Minoan iconography. The fullest possible scene is that from the Ayia Triada sarcophagus, but even this is somewhat compromised.24 The majority of scenes only depict a bull lying on a table, which in itself is not enough to suggest sacrifice. The other comparisons suggested by some scholars seem equally unsupported. The most frequent of these is that the Minoans also practised a burnt sacrificial ritual. This seems unconvincing from an iconographic perspective as in none of the Minoan scenes do we have any examples of such activity, nor are there representations of a structure analogous to the Classical altar. The main archaeological evidence for such theories are the deposits of ash and bone at several cult sites,25 leading to speculation about sacrificial bonfires (e.g. Rutkowski, 1986: passim). However, there are other explanations that may account for these deposits.26 Yet, these have remained largely under-discussed due to the prevalence of the analogy with Classical Greece. In a similar vein, Marinatos (1986: 28) claims (among others) that there is blood daubed on a structure in a fresco from Xesté 3 at Akrotiri (Fig. 11): “The connection with sacrifice, although indirect, is unmistakeable: the blood must come from a sacrificed animal” (Ibid. 29). This rests on several assumptions; that the structure is a shrine or altar; that the smear (now no longer visible) represents blood; and that the blood originated from a sacrifice – it should be noted that no victim or any other indicator of sacrifice is seen in this fresco at all. Moreover, even if this reconstruction were accurate, it would still be unique in “Minoan”

24 25 26

See below, pp. 15-16. See Chapter Two for individual site reports. See Chapter Three: 65-66.

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This, combined with the lack of iconographic representations of double-axes serving as a sacrificial weapon, is suggestive that they were not utilised in such a manner.

DOUBLE-AXE The double-axe has been repeatedly identified as a ritual motif, in particular as a representation of the instrument of ritual slaughter, the sacrificial weapon. While I do not doubt that it is a ritual motif, the interpretation of it as the sacrificial weapon is by no means certain, especially given that sacrifice itself is still a conjectural concept. The origins of the double-axe are as enigmatic as its purpose. While it is largely ubiquitous in the Palatial period, appearing on pillars, seals, frescoes, pottery, not to mention the frequent model axes or votive examples, it is largely unknown in the pre-Palatial phases. The earliest examples come from a rich Early Minoan II grave at Mochlos (Nilsson, 1950: 195), but these are too small and flimsy to have served a practical purpose. Moreover, the vaulted tombs of the Mesara, with their evidence for the ritualised killing of animals as a part of the funerary cult,27 predate this deposit (Branigan 1972). Thus, we have evidence of a possible sacrificial ritual before we have evidence for the supposed instrument of death.

If an instrument was utilised for the purposes of stunning large animals, then there are examples from the archaeological record of tools which would seem to have a stronger provenance for this function. On several seals and sealings a figure, usually identified as a priest, carries an object that seems very reminiscent of the Syrian (or fenestrated) axe (Fig. 14). In the Near East this axe served not only as a weapon, but as a badge of office and a sacrificial instrument. The Minoan ‘priests’ also carry a mace in several examples (Zeimbekis, Unpub. MA dissertation: passim), and it has been conjectured that this too could have served as a sacrificial weapon. Again, however, there is the fundamental issue that neither of these objects is seen in a sacrificial context. In actuality, it is the persistence of the hypothesis of a Minoan sacrificial ritual that has led to the interpretation of these objects as ritual weapons, which has in turn been used to lend credence to the hypothetical sacrifices. This type of circular argument is intrinsically flawed, as it relies on the initial assumption that a sacrificial ritual akin to the Classical θυσία rite took place in the Minoan context – a fact that the archaeology has not demonstrably proved to date.

The theory that the double-axe is a sacrificial weapon is one that has been proposed numerous times, but it is one that is encumbered with a fundamental flaw: the doubleaxe is never seen being used in a sacrificial context. Even on the oft-referenced Ayia Triada sarcophagus the only double-axes are seemingly architectural, being as they are placed atop poles around shrine structures (Fig. 12). Although it is true that the Minoans, just as the later Greeks did, never show the actual moment of killing, one would still expect to see the double-axe being depicted in association with a victim (especially if all the seal evidence does refer to sacrificial ritual), but this is not the case. In my opinion, this hypothesis is influenced principally by an anachronistic belief stemming from the later literature and practices. It is true that in the Classical period an axe was used as a stunning weapon prior to the slitting of the victim’s throat (Fig. 13), but in most cases this is not a double-axe. Similarly, in the epic cycle, the axe is a key instrument in the sacrificial process:

But if sacrificial ritual does not explain the origin of the double-axe, what then are the alternatives? Again, if we compare representations of the same symbol from other cultures (although it is probable that a different interpretation of its meaning existed), a viable alternative does indeed present itself. In the cultures of the Near East the double-axe is consistently seen as the fetish of the weather god, the sender of thunder – the most famous being Teshub, although there are several other examples. However, in all of these cases the deities involved are exclusively male, whereas in the Minoan examples the double-axe is almost always associated with female figures (where it is seen in connection with a humanoid figure) (Nilsson, 1950: 223). Even so, it would seem that the double-axe has an association with divinity or religious power (Fig. 15) and this association is stronger than any claims for the axe as a sacrificial weapon.

“Prayers said, the scattering barley strewn, suddenly Nestor’s son, impetuous Thrasymedes, strode up close and struck – the ax chopped the neck tendons through – and the blow stunned the heifer’s strength” (Ody. III: 502-6) However, only the axes found at Juktas and Arkalochori28 are substantial enough to have been used for such a purpose; the majority of examples are votive or decorative and would seem to be non-functional.29

money”, “sacred money”, even “symbolic or representational monies”, the decorated ones perhaps more at home in an elite level of exchange, the cut-outs of copper in a wider – yet semiotic – way of circulation” (313). She concludes that “the idea that elaborate metal axes could function as gifts I exchange for services, therefore as a means of payment, is very probable” (314). While this is largely supposition, it suggests that our modern functional-symbolic dichotomy may also be inappropriate for the double-axes found at Minoan sanctuary sites.

27

See below, p. 96 ff. 28 See Chapter Two: pp. 34-35; pp. 48-49. 29 By ‘functional’ I mean in the commonly perceived use of an axe, chopping, bludgeoning, etc. A recent essay by Michailidou (2003) suggests the possibility that, in addition to a supposed symbolic aspect, they may have served as a form of currency, though she does leave it open as to the form: ““special purpose money”, “concrete or treasure

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animal-based ritual though it is massively outnumbered by the sheep and goat remains), and so might well be more prevalent in that context. But we must also acknowledge that ovicaprids, agrimi, pigs and occasionally deer are also seen in representations that have been interpreted as sacrificial in character.

‘HORNS OF CONSECRATION’ Similar in propensity in the artistic canon to the doubleaxe is the symbol that is known as the ‘horns of consecration’. This symbol consistently attracts attention in studies of Minoan religion and ritual practice. It is essentially ubiquitous, although artistic representations far outnumber actual surviving examples. It has been viewed as an indicator of cult and the location of ritual (sacrificial?) practices – for example, it is seen topping structures, as in the Grandstand Fresco (Fig. 16) and on the Zakros rhyton (Fig. 17).

As a result the foundations for the case for the ‘horns of consecration’ being an indicator or commemoration of animal sacrifice begin to appear less stable. Alternative explanations for the symbol have been proposed, and have varied from representations of peaks to their being practical devices such as fire-dogs. But such proposals have been inadequate to shake off the sacrificial overtones. This is only fair as the alternatives proposed thus far have been inadequate and unsubstantiated by actual archaeological examples. However, one alternative that does seem viable has never been fully explored. The ‘horns of consecration’ are remarkably similar in form to a Near Eastern cult symbol prevalent from the Isin-Larsa period onwards. This symbol is that of the “divine boat” (Fig. 18). Occurring largely on pottery and relief work, just as the horns do, and in association with boughs and other ritual symbols, again like the Minoan ‘horns’, this symbol can be confidently identified as a boat through the textual associations. The similarities are striking and, moreover, boats do seem to have enjoyed a cult function in the Minoan sphere as well: the fleet in the West House Miniature fresco from Akrotiri has been interpreted as having a ritual purpose; a model boat is carried on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus; model boats are found at Kamilari; and there are several examples of sealings that show a vessel whose form, bar the rigging, is identical to the ‘horns of consecration’ (Fig. 19).32 Thus, once again, a major symbol that is a keystone in the sacrificial hypothesis can be seen to have a legitimate alternative explanation, one that has no direct association with possible sacrificial rituals, which has never been fully investigated.

As the name would suggest, the symbol is thought to represent the horns of a bull or other bovine animal. Evans saw them as representing the horns of sacrificial victims, which was entirely in keeping with his conception of bulls as the pre-eminent Minoan sacrificial victim. To a great extent this was coloured by the academic concerns of the age, where the drive in prehistoric Aegean archaeology was to validate the mythical names and stories which had provided the impetus for the excavations in the first place: hence “Minoans” and Evans’ use of the ancient name of Knossos for the site he excavated. As has been recently noted (Hamilakis, 2002a: 2-3), Evans did not so much excavate as “materialise his pre-conceived dream”; he “recreated his idealised world, full of peaceful, flowerloving, elegant, athletic Minoans, who were adoring Mother-Goddesses and sacred trees and pillars, as well as travelling and trading all over the Mediterranean”. The bull rituals and ‘horns of consecration’ were included in this reconstruction, and justified to some extent through an ethnographic analogy with the cult of Hathor in Egypt – an aspect of which was the burying of bulls’ heads in the ground so that their horns projected above the surface. Herodotus attests to such a practice (Histories II: 41), but this is obviously much later than the Bronze Age. But this, to some extent, is by way of digression, as despite the uncertainty of the origins of the symbol the association has been maintained over the decades, and has lent considerable weight to the theory that sacrifice was the predominant ritual, with the bull as the principal victim. However, even the most cursory glance at the faunal remains30 indicates that ovicaprids31 are the mainstay of the assemblages rather than bovids. Marinatos is correct that “the animal which appears most often on pictorial representations is the bull” (Marinatos, 1986: 11), but her claim that it is the “foremost sacrificial animal” (Ibid.) is mistaken. While this may be true of the pictorial evidence, the physical remains indicate otherwise. We might explain this dichotomy by alluding to the fact that the bull is a more potent image for the artist to work with (even in the archaeological record the bucrania can be seen as the most cogent indicator of an

Thus even from these cursory notes it should become evident of the dangers of using iconography as the basis for a theory regarding socio-religious practices. The artist is forced to modify the message as a result of the medium, the available space, their skill and even their personal beliefs (or those of their patron) which may not be entirely reflective of the general belief systems in operation and are subject to expediency and influence. However, there is one example of the iconographic representation of ritual practices which has received so much attention in tracts on Minoan religious activity that it deserves detailed discussion here: the Ayia Triada sarcophagus.

30

See Chapter Two: passim, and pp. 61-64. The term ovicaprids, referring to both sheep and goat, is used throughout this study as without key skeletal indicators, it is largely impossible to differentiate between the two. 31

32

14

See below, pp. 98-100, on the subject of maritime rituals.

is simply unconvincing, as the background colour changes on both of the longer sides twice. Thus it is unlikely that it denotes separation in one case and not in the other.

AYIA TRIADA SARCOPHAGUS Nilsson’s claim that Minoan religion is a “picture book without text” (Nilsson, 1950: 13) can never be more fittingly applied to any object more-so than the (in)famous sarcophagus from Ayia Triada. The rich decoration of the panelling, with its apparent ritual theme, has essentially been utilised as a diagrammatic guide for some Minoan ritual practices. However, this approach necessitates various assumptions about what is seen on the sarcophagus, and has often been accompanied by assuming an almost canonical quality for the accuracy and veracity of what is depicted.

It would seem logical to suggest that the scenes depicted on the sarcophagus, if we accept that they are intended to be viewed as a narrative unit, related to the funerary rites for the original occupant of the tomb. Clearly an individual who merited such a uniquely decorated sarcophagus, and a distinct and conspicuous tomb structure above ground, could be expected to have been accorded a degree of ceremony upon their interment. In my opinion, this is more convincing than the concept of either hero or ancestor worship, neither of which are overtly visible in Minoan culture. Even at the early Minoan tombs in the Mesara, where the evidence is strongest for cult activity at tomb sites, the practices appear to be directly connected with the deposition of the deceased rather than with the invocation of their spirit. In fact, everything indicates that the Minoans were eminently practical as regards the treatment of their dead; from the successive re-use of communal tomb structures and the subsequent removal of earlier grave goods, to the holes in the sarcophagus itself as an aid to the decomposition of the body. Thus if the rituals on the sarcophagus relate to its occupant then I would suggest that they are reflective of the rituals that took place at the time of the original burial.

Such a quality, when applied to any archaeological artefact, is misguided, but this seems especially true in the case of the sarcophagus. It was found in a stone-built tomb at Ayia Triada that was “small and unpretentious” (Long, 1974: 11). However, it was unusual as it was constructed entirely above ground, which distinguishes it from Postpalatial Minoan tombs in general, though parallels can be seen in some Mycenaean tombs such as two at Pharsala on the Greek mainland. This is the crux of the matter as the sarcophagus dates to a period (LM IIIA2) when several Mycenaean features have appeared on Crete. For while the funerary deposits in the tomb (at least what remained), notably two straight-backed razors and a lentoid seal, were of native Cretan origin, the tomb architecture most certainly is not (Long, 1974: 14). As a result, we must be conscious of the fact that the sarcophagus comes from a period when a blending of cultural styles seems to be taking place. Therefore, we must be aware that the iconographic detail of the sarcophagus may not be as ‘culturally pure’ as is suggested by its constant use as a source for information on Minoan ritual.

The alternative interpretation of the worship of a chthonic deity is too problematic. While a blood sacrifice is fitting for such a ritual, no figure is present which appears convincing as a deity. The figure in front of the structure is both smaller than those who approach him, is startlingly inanimate in comparison to the epiphany scenes on Minoan seals and gems, and possesses no attributes or symbols that suggest a divine character. It is possible that the figure could be a cult statue. It is true that there are Minoan cult figurines that, when viewed standing, exhibit no feet; but these are exclusively female; the faience ‘Snake Goddesses’ from the Temple Repositories at Knossos are one example. Moreover, these are extremely small, less than 50cm in height (usually 20-30cm). No cult figure approaching the size of the figure on the sarcophagus has ever been found at a Minoan site; Peatfield does suggest that an idol could have stood in the circular feature on the Upper Terrace at Atsipadhes (1990: 68-9 and his Fig. 9), but he did not locate one. Thus both cult figure and epiphany appear to be inappropriate explanations. The presence of the birds perching on the architectural double-axes has been used to lend credence to the interpretation of an epiphany or invocation. It is possible that the birds on the double axes are to be associated with the larger bird seen flying above the griffin-drawn chariot on one of the short ends of the sarcophagus, and thus associated with the female figures in the chariot themselves. If this is the case then to view these two as goddesses invoked in the funerary rite is not implausible. But if this is the case, then it is for the benefit of the deceased man rather than direct worship. This reading of the sarcophagus accounts for only one of

Moreover, there has never been a completely convincing argument for the interpretation of the scenes on the long sides. Long (1974), by far the most extensive study of the sarcophagus, suggests that they are two separate scenes: a chthonic sacrifice on one side, with the offering of gifts to the spirit of the deceased on the other. However, both of these are based on uncertain readings of the scenes. The ‘sacrifice’ scene is not as we might expect: there are no weapons present, nothing explicitly identifiable as an altar, and beyond all else the bull is clearly still alive; its eyes are open and alert, and it is bound to the table as well as having its legs tied. Thus there was clearly a danger of its struggling. What is evident is that it is the collection of blood that is the key aspect of the rite. If this were a chthonic ritual, there would be little point in the use of a “conical rhyton through which the blood flows directly into the ground” (Long, 1974: 73). In my opinion, this is not as practical as simply letting the blood to pour, or using a trench as in Book XI of the Odyssey. The vessel beneath the table is clearly collecting the blood, and is similar enough in design, size and decoration to those used in the pouring scene to allow the decoration of the sarcophagus to be read as a narrative. Long’s assertion that the change in background colour separates the pouring scene from the offering of the gifts 15

The faunal remains themselves, however, can provide much information beyond this. The variety of species at sites can reveal the economic overlap with cult practice. If these animals are domesticates rather than wild fauna, then ownership and procuration of victims become valid directions of investigation. Similarly, the size and development of the bones may indicate the age of the animals used which may indicate a time of year for the various rites.33 Finally, the treatment of the bones before their deposition – exhibited in cut marks, extraction of marrow, degree (if any) of burning - in addition to the percentage frequency of certain skeletal elements, can inform us about the specifics of the ritual. As this will be a major element of the study an amount of zooarchaeological data will be presented. It is therefore important to be certain of any deductions based upon the study of the faunal remains.

the short ends, it does not account for the opposite agrimi-drawn chariot. However, it is this short end that contains the most convincing evidence that the decoration on the sarcophagus is intended to be viewed as a narrative, rather like a frieze on Classical temple architecture of the Ionic order. This end piece is unusually subdivided into two decorated panels. The lower shows the agrimi-drawn chariot, but the upper register, while very poorly preserved, is apparently a continuation of the procession toward the bull on the table. Despite the fact that the ritual context of the scene has never been firmly identified, as outlined above, much of the minutiae of the decoration have been used as verbatim sources for animal sacrifice. For example, the lack of an altar structure at several important ritual sites is explained by the theory that tables were used in their stead. No such examples have been found, and the ledges in certain locations which are interpreted as being the support bars for such tables, as at Salle β at the Malia Palace, seem tentative at best. In short, the major form of evidence for their use is from scenes such as that on the sarcophagus. Therefore, it can be seen that the vast majority of previous discussions of Minoan sacrificial ritual have been a sideline in reconstructions of the Minoan religious system, or the culture as a whole. Even the more explicit treatises are somewhat compromised due to their focus on secondary iconography: indeed, the most recent, Marinatos’ Minoan Sacrificial Ritual concentrates on the iconography almost to the detriment of everything else. But, more than anything else, all the approaches in the past have had the same basic problem at their heart; the assumption that the Minoans did practice a sacrificial ritual as part of their religious activity, and that it needed only to be described rather than objectively investigated. This must be done through the application of sound archaeological and anthropological methods to the Minoan evidence to test if the assemblages can be accurately described as sacrificial deposits. Once this is done it may be possible to use ethnographic analogy to identify the concerns of the ceremonies, but to do this before we examine the assemblages is unwise. This will only result from an objective assessment of the remains from a variety of Minoan cult sites, periods and areas on Crete. By doing so, it should be possible to conclude whether there were variances in practice over space, time and types of site. If the sites all exhibit a similar typology of remains then we may confidently speak of a coherent and established ritual practice. If this is the case we may then use secondary evidence, such as iconography, to add detail to the reconstruction of the rite, but only when we have firmly established that there was such a rite. If it transpires that the archaeological remains vary drastically between the sites, even within the site sub-categories, then we must account for this through differences in ritual performance within a tiered religious system, rather than a monolithic ritual entity.

33

16

This would primarily apply to the use of yearlings in ritual practices.

faunal assemblages, but when we are dealing with a cult site there are certain other factors that must be taken into account, as bones alone are not enough. As we are all taught as undergraduates, archaeology is about context. Certainly then animal bones must be used in conjunction with the more traditional archaeological indicators of ritual sites – the architectural and material archaeology. The key aim here is the recreation of the original pattern of activity that created the deposit, to that end it is important to acknowledge:

ZOOARCHAEOLOGY Zooarchaeology, the archaeological study of animals and their remains, has existed as a discipline since the 1860s, but it was not until the processual or cognitive archaeology of the 1960s that it became a major component of the archaeological study of sites. The primary motivation for zooarchaeology is anthropological, that is to say it revolves around the study of the interaction between humans and animals, be it symbiotic or exploitative. In order for this to be done accurately a certain degree of specialist terminology and biological knowledge is necessary. Unfortunately, there is no space here for a full discussion of the terminologies: as a result I include diagrams and tables as a means of summarising the key skeletal and biological terms that will be used in this study34 (Fig. 20). Due to the homology of the skeletal evolution of mammalia these terms are fully interchangeable regardless of the species under discussion.

i. ii. iii. iv.

the spatial relationship between the bones, architecture and other features; the range and nature of the species represented; the age and sex breakdown of the animals; bone modification present (cut marks, burning etc.)

The identification of sacred activities from animal remains entails the search for a diagnostic or characteristic pattern, one that differs from that found in domestic or secular contexts.

However, equally as significant as at least a basic understanding of the biological factors is a comprehension of the techniques regarding the recovery of faunal material. The first point is an obvious one, but equally one that cannot be ignored: given that few total excavations of archaeological sites are carried out (at least in recent years) inevitably the bones that are recovered are a sample of any total deposit and as such must be acknowledged as perhaps not totally representative. Even on sites where the study of the vertebrate remains is seen as an important aspect of the research, it is rare for the excavation trenches to be positioned by considering expected bone distributions (O’Connor, 2000: 28). Similarly, the method of recovery directly affects the end assemblage. Excavations sometimes rely on bones being noticed during excavation, and being picked up – a feature that was especially true of the early Minoan digs. However, this form of hand-collection biases the sample to larger, more obvious bones, and by implication to the larger animals which tend to be over-emphasised at the expense of the smaller boned animals. Hand collection will retrieve most cattle bones, but will miss out most fish bones (Ibid. 31), for example. Given the fact that the majority of the major Minoan cult sites were dug in the first half of the twentieth century or earlier we might assume that such a phenomenon occurred. However, it is a fallacy to argue from a lack of evidence, and as a result we must accept the information that we have available, although it must also be acknowledged that an island culture would certainly have exploited the sea as a source of food.35 The above factors then leave us in a position to identify the anatomical part, or fragment thereof, and thereby the species from which it came. This approach is true of all 34

For those who wish to see discussions of these matters in full I refer them to O’Connor 2000; Reitz and Wing 1999. 35 Even a brief glimpse at the Minoan art and certain deposits – e.g. Shrine of the Double Axes – shows the Minoan concern with the sea and its produce. Plus see below, pp. 98-100.

17

BURNING AND BUTCHERY The initial stages occur when an animal is killed and its carcass eviscerated, skinned and quartered. All cultures perform this in a uniform manner principally due to the physiological attributes of the animal and because these steps are necessary to remove impurities such as the blood, faecal matter, and hair from the carcass (Klenck, 2002: 55). A description of the initial stages of butchery is provided below:

As noted above, the human modification of bone is a useful indicator of cult activity, of which burning is a major aspect. “A variety of human activities, including deliberate garbage disposal, may have exposed bones to fire, causing a range of changes in appearance which we may summarise under the term charring” (O’Connor, 2000: 45). This is of importance in the case of Minoan Crete; a feature of a number of extramural cult sites is an ash layer,36 which has often been discussed in relation to faunal remains. It has been argued that these are the result of the deliberate, ritualistic burning of entire animals or parts there-of.

i.

ii.

Empirically there are three distinct stages of charring: black charring with no distortion; grey discoloration with minor distortion and cracking; white discoloration (calcining) with distortion and shrinkage, giving the bone a porcelain-like texture (Shipman et al. 1984). These three stages can be approximately correlated with the temperature to which the bone was heated; however, other factors must also be taken into account, such as the removal of the flesh from the bone prior to burning, which would directly affect the level of charring. Typical roasting of a meat joint, that is with meat on the bone, produces the minimal level of charring on that bone (Reitz and Wing, 1999: 133). Therefore, when the bone is more charred, or calcined, then it is likely that the bone was already defleshed or was in contact with the fire long enough for the meat to be roasted away.

iii.

iv.

v.

An additional problem with completely burned bones is that some of the organic remains will turn to ash (think of a modern cremation) and might not be retrieved from the archaeological record. An example of this can be seen in the Bedouin practices at the tomb of Sheikh Abu Hurreira (Klenck, 2002: 54). Here the Bedouin burned sacrificial victims so thoroughly that only the crania, phalanges and metapoidals survived intact since these bones were left with skin on them during the butchery process. The rest of the remains could not be retrieved because these bones had turned to ash (Ibid.). This is of interest when we return to the reports such as that of Kato Syme (Lebessi and Muhly 1990) where significant reports of crania in ash layers are extant.

vi.

Therefore, only by a careful examination of the various faunal assemblages may we better understand the degree and, to some extent, the purpose or motive for the burning. However, a further aspect of human behaviour will also directly affect the faunal remains in the archaeological record: butchery. A prey animal may have been killed, skinned, jointed and eaten with the aid of various tools. Each of these tools leaves distinctive traces on the bones, but we may break up the overall process – and therefore the tools used – into two main stages. The first stage involves the killing and dismemberment of the animal. The second stage comprises the processing of the carcass for the final food procedures. 36

The veins across the animal’s throat are cut and the animal bleeds to death. By cutting the jugular veins most of the blood is expelled from the dying animal. The head is then removed from the carcass. Either the joints at the distal metatarsal and proximal first phalanx or the tarsals at the distal end of the tibia are cut to remove the feet from the carcass. After the animal is decapitated, the victim is hung upside down by passing a hook through the gastrocnemius tendon located between the proximal end of the culcaneum and distal end of the tibia. This activity is done to help drain the animal of blood and to facilitate further butchering activity. The animal is then eviscerated or ‘gutted’ by cutting through the centre of the abdomen to remove the intestinal sack, and the impurities associated with it, as well as the major organs. Butchers skin the animal either by cutting strips of skin off the caprovines or by pulling the skin down over the distal hindlimbs, torso and forelimbs. After the skin is pulled down over the forelimbs the lateral and medial sides of the carpals might be cut to separate the metacarpals and phalanges from the carcass. The metacarpals and phalanges thus may be left in the skin and separated as one unit from the carcass. The limbs are removed from the body of the animal. Forelimbs are separated by cutting through the tendons that held the scapula to the trunk of the animal. Hindlimbs are severed from the animal by cutting through the tendons that surround the head of the femur and acetabulum of the pelvis.

(Summarised from Klenck,2002) One should not be drawn into thinking that this process would be overtly affected by a ritual context. Certainly iconographic evidence confirms that in Classical Greek sacrificial ritual the veins in the neck were cut, albeit after a stunning blow, and the blood flowed out and was daubed on the altar (Fig. 21). Similarly an Egyptian model of a slaughterhouse from the tomb of Meketre, a Theban noble who was interred c. 2000 B.C., provides a visual model of how ungulates were butchered – revealing that the Egyptians slaughtered cattle by cutting the veins in the neck. In addition, murals from the tomb of Ukhhotep I, located at Meir, dating to the Twelfth

See catalogue entries in Chapter Two.

18

Blows result in minute fragments of bone around the rim of the fracture on the impact side, a radial striation at the impact site, and a flake scar on the opposite side (Ibid. 130). These marks are most typically observed in huntergatherer assemblages as they result principally from marrow extraction or tool manufacture, as a result they are unlikely to appear in an assemblage that results from a sacrificial practice.

Dynasty, portray cattle crania, complete forelimbs including scapulae, and other unidentified cuts of meat. In the second stage of butchery, dismemberment processes are affected by food preparation methods and cultural norms. Hence, cultural values play more of a role in butchery procedures at his stage than do anatomical or functional factors. Therefore it is at this stage that an analysis of cut and chop marks on the bone becomes more important as they may allow us to reconstruct the original jointing of the carcass which, in turn, could lead to a more plausible and complete reconstruction of the Minoan ritual practice.

The analysis of the burning and butchery marks is but part of the zooarchaeological data that can be obtained from a faunal assemblage. Equally, if not more, relevant is the overall form of the assemblage – that is to say whether it results from a natural, secular or ritual process. While it is true that other predators may account for some faunal remains found on Crete, given the types of site we are investigating we must look to human agency for the explanation of the majority. Typically if Minoan ritual faunal assemblages correspond to those of other cultures then we might expect an overall age structure revealing the specific selection of young individuals.

On the simplest level we can divide tool marks on bone into two categories: cut marks, resulting from the cutting of overlying tissues by a knife-like implement; and chop marks, resulting from the chopping of muscle and bone by something like an axe or cleaver (O’Connor, 2000: 45). Even at this simplistic level it allows us to differentiate between marks that largely result from the attempts to remove meat from the bone and attempts to sub-divide the carcass. Indeed the analysis of these marks may indicate cultural definitions of units of meat or, in the case of ritual sites, the allocation of various animal parts to groups of people or deities.

However, when we analyse the remains we must be aware that the Minoans undoubtedly maintained herds for other purposes. The Linear B tablets from Knossos have been interpreted as indicating that bureaucracies were organised on a geographic basis and that some portions of the economy, such as the cloth industry, were directed and administered by the palaces (Betancourt, 1976: 42) The tablets provide extensive records of textile workers (Ak series), cloth storage (Ld), cloth deliveries (Le), textile production (Lc), wool allocation (Od), sheep shearing (Dk / Dl), and even the flocks (D) themselves (Klippel and Snyder, 1999: 54). Certainly from those sites where large-scale faunal analysis has taken place ovicaprids dominate the assemblage – LM IIIC Kavousi: Vronda they are 79% of the deposit, LM IIIC Kavousi: Kastro 81%; at these same sites the percentages of sheep within these ovicaprids (where species could be identified) are 69% and 61% respectively. These percentages, if we assume them to be reflective of the Minoan period, indicate that the majority of the domestic assemblages were dominated by sheep and goats. Similarly, if these flocks were for a variety of purposes, as the earlier Linear B tablets indicate, i.e. not simply for meat but for secondary products such as milk and wool, then typically the age pattern will differ from both a ritual deposit and those of flocks raised for meat alone. Secondary product herds usually exhibit a much higher average age at death, for obvious reasons. Certainly the bones from Kavousi: Vronda and Kavousi: Kastro suggest that older animals made up a higher percentage of the assemblage; however, this is somewhat compromised as the bone was in a very fragmentary condition (Ibid. 55). The excavators believed this to be the result of the deliberate extraction of the marrow from the bones of older individuals, the bones of younger individuals did not exhibit such fragmentation.

Butchering marks, however, can be divided into further distinct categories beyond that mentioned above. NoeNygard (1979) discusses five categories: cut marks, scrape marks, hack (chop) marks, blows, and saw marks. Characteristics of each mark reflect the type of tool used, the angle of the cutting edge, the pressure exerted, whether the meat was cooked or not, and the condition of the specimen itself. As a general rule, repetition of marks at the same location and an anatomical reason for the marks are two broad criteria that indicate the marks are of human origin (Reitz and Wing, 1999: 128), as opposed to those faunal assemblages that are accumulated and characteristically modified by some other species or abiotic process. Cuts and scrapes are characterised by small incisions. They may have a “V” shape, that sometimes grades into a “U” shape, and the groove walls have fine striations parallel to the long axis of the cut (Fig. 22) (Shipman 1981). Cut marks are probably made by knives during skinning, when disjointing the carcass or when removing meat before or after cooking. Some marks are small, shallow cuts running down the surface of the element and are often the result of filleting. Chop or hack marks have a deep, non-symmetrical “V” and lack striations. Hacks tend to cluster around the large joints formed by long bones, but are also found on the shafts (Reitz and Wing, 1999: 129). They are evidence that some large instrument, such as a cleaver, was used. Presumably a cleaver, or similar tool, would be employed as the carcass was dismembered rather than after the meat was cooked – thus making it a preliminary stage tool. Impact marks caused by blows are produced by hitting an element with a semi-blunt, pointed instrument.

Thus it should be clear that much information may be gained from the study of the faunal remains found at sites, but is also clear that great care needs to be taken 19

when doing so. It should not need stating that should faunal remains appear to be largely absent from the Minoan cult sites we may, if not must, assume that animals were not extensively used in their cult practices. The distribution patterns of the faunal remains will be plotted both in terms of geographic and temporal variation to investigate consistency of practice. In addition to animal sacrifice the evidence, albeit scattered, for human sacrifice is also examined. Human sacrifice, in most cultures where sacrifice is practised, is the most extreme version of the rite, performed only in the gravest of circumstances. If animal sacrifice should appear to be a ritual component of Minoan religion, then there is a possibility of this version of the ritual also being extant.

20

“implies at least similar sacrificial value for the chine as for the thigh” (Ibid.). Thus here also we have a convincing occurrence of the θυσία ritual where there is a deliberate selection in a deliberate manner of the femora, patellae and chines (caudal lumbar vertebrae, ossa sacralia, and coccygeal vertebrae) mostly from ovicaprids but with a significant minority of cattle (particularly in area HN).

ZOOARCHAEOLOGY AND RITUAL PRACTICES It must be remembered, indeed it has been stated already and will be repeated in this study, that the Archaic / Classical Greek θυσία ritual has been used as the model for the Minoan practices. In this we are fortunate as there has been a (relatively) large amount of zooarchaeological study of faunal remains associated with the sanctuaries of Greece and the practice of θυσία.

Thus we appear to have an accurate zooarchaeological data set for the Greek burnt sacrifice or θυσία, where the percentages and skeletal selection in question tally extremely well with literary descriptions of the ritual. Therefore, we are able, as a result of this blueprint, to compare the Minoan faunal remains with this data set and thereby test the validity of utilising the θυσία ritual format as the model for the supposed Minoan practices.37

We are therefore able to create a set of archaeological correlates that are indicative of the θυσία ritual. This data set is observable at several sites from across Greece and the Aegean islands. For example, the altar of Aphrodite Ourania at Athens (Reese 1989), provides a basic data set. Here 95% of the bones are burnt and most are calcined. The bones derive almost exclusively from small ruminants i.e. sheep and goats. 60% of the Number of Identifiable Specimens (hereafter NISP) were vertebrae of the caudal spine; 20% of NISP were femora and patellae; and 16% NISP were ribs.

However, due to recent work on the faunal remains from Mycenaean sanctuaries and notionally ‘ritual’ deposits, for example that on the bone deposits at the Pylos palace (Stocker and Davis 2004), a data set for an alternative ritual process has become available for comparison with the Minoan evidence. Perhaps the most striking example of what appears to be a Minoan sacrificial complex is the sanctuary of Ayios Konstantinos.

This basic picture is embellished by that from the bothros within the Archaic sanctuary of Aphrodite at Miletus (Forstenpointner, 2003: 204). This bothros again contained a deposit of burnt, mostly calcined, bone. Almost 90% of the remains (NISP) were of ovicaprids, with 10% being from cattle. The skeletal representation displayed first of all the deliberate selection of femora and patellae, intermingled with a smaller percentage of caudal vertebrae. Similarly, Altar I of the Mytilenean sanctuary of Demeter and Kore on Lesbos has a faunal deposit consisting of more than 70% (NISP) ovicaprid vertebrae and 13% ovicaprid femora.

This complex is located on a low hill (at an altitude of 114m) lying on the east coast of the Methana peninsula in the north-east Peloponnese (Hamilakis and Konsolaki, 2004: 136). The complex itself dates to LH III A-B and at least some of the complex seems to have been associated with religious practices. In particular Room A of the complex, which contained a stone bench linked to three low steps38 in the north-west corner; a low stone platform along the south wall; and a small hearth in the south-east corner containing a thick layer of ash and animal bones (Ibid. 137). A number of drinking vessels and a large triton shell were found in the same area (Ibid. 138). Around the hearth were a number of cooking pots and a stone spit rest, but in other areas of the room were vessels associated with libations, including an animal head rhyton.

Thus these sanctuaries begin to provide a picture of a ritual process in which there seems to be a notable preference for ovicaprid thighs and vertebrae. It is notable that it is precisely these skeletal elements that are discussed in literary treatments of the θυσία ritual. As a final corresponding occurrence of this data set, Forstenpointner’s study of the faunal remains from the Artemision at Ephesus makes convincing reading. This study (Forstenpointner 2003) focuses on three specific areas of the site (HN – bothroi along the northern flank of the Hekatompedos; HK – wet sieved material from a long trench along the east side of the Hekatompedos including a well-defined bothros at its eastern threshold; NB – a layer of carbonised material, a 3 x 15m band, south east of the northern cult base [Ibid. 205]) and reveals a similar pattern to that outlined above. Forstenpointner notes that the remains are of burnt offerings, but are always intermingled with large amounts of unburnt animal bone and ceramic sherds (Ibid. 206). The frequency of goat / sheep (species level identification was compromised by the original pattern of anatomical selection and the fragmentary condition of the bone) is consistently higher than that of other species by far. Amongst these small ruminants, in the burnt remains, the strong predominance for femora is obvious, while in the cattle remains the frequency of the caudal vertebrae

The animal bones from this complex come from rooms A,B, and C, but only 125 fragments were identifiable out of a total of 553 (Ibid. 139). These 125 NAU (Number of Anatomical Units [a variant of NISP]) have been well studied. If taken at face value a simple percentage of sheep / goat would seem to dominate once again, some 54.5% of the 125 NAU. However, pigs were also a significant presence at some 30.3% of the identifiable deposit. But in Room A, the room most associated with ritual practices by the excavators, the pig bones accounted for 44 out of 82 BAU, or 53.7%. This is in stark contrast with rooms B and C where sheep /goats are some 75% of the deposit (Ibid. 139-141). 37

It shall become clear that such a notion is utterly without merit. The similarity of this structure to that at Anemospilia and the structure depicted on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus (and other examples) is noteworthy.

38

21

Irrespective of this, these two cases are suggestive of the importance of feasting practices in Mycenaean societies, but in association with a practice of burnt sacrificial ritual. However, Minoan is neither the same as Classical Greek nor as Mycenaean; yet these examples give us two fairly concrete archaeological examples of the remains of burnt sacrificial rituals with which we may compare our Minoan evidence.

This would seem to suggest a marked difference in practice between room A and rooms B and C. But even within room A there is a clear disparity between the anatomical representations of pigs and ovicaprids. The former are represented more or less evenly in terms of anatomy: most parts of the animal are represented, suggesting that whole carcasses were brought into the room (Ibid. 141). However, the latter, the sheep and goats, have an uneven anatomical representation; mostly the meaty parts are present – the humerus, femur, tibia, scapulae, and pelvis (Ibid.). This is indicative of a marked difference in ritual treatment of the species. This is reinforced by the fact that the bones from room A, the room with the highest percentage of pig bones, are burnt, whereas the bones from rooms B and C are mostly unburnt. Moreover, the pig bones are primarily from very young (some newborn) animals, while the bones in rooms B and C are from adult animals (Ibid. 143).

However, as the title of this study states, this is an investigation into sacrifice as a component of the Bronze Age religious practices as a whole. As such it will be necessary to make reference to other processes of cult activity extant at that time; primarily libation and votive deposition. The evidence for these practices is also referred to in the individual site catalogue entries and the significance of each cult practice, in comparison to sacrifice, is examined in Chapter Three. By doing so it should be possible to account for the various ritual practices and set sacrifice within a ritual context.

Hamilakis and Konsolaki (2004: 143) note that in room A, the “main cultic room”, the practice discernible is one of “the selective ritual consumption of young animals, with clear preference shown to pigs.” Moreover, it appears that we have deliberate sacrificial burning, as is suggested by the selective nature of the burnt material, the fact that the burnt bones are calcined, and the find spot of the bones near the hearth (Ibid. 144). Thus, as the excavators state, this site offers “the first zooarchaeological evidence for burnt animal sacrifices in a sanctuary during the Mycenaean period” (Ibid.). They add that “it is unlikely that the evidence from Ayios Konstantinos is a unique case” (Ibid.). regardless of the validity of this last statement, it would appear that at Ayios Konstantinos we have a Mycenaean burnt sacrifice, that is a ritual where the most important aspect of the practice was not the moment of the kill but the subsequent burning of the body (Ibid. 145). Similarly, the evidence from Pylos (Stocker and Davis 2004), although it is suggestive of a different form of burnt animal sacrificial ritual, one where cattle seem to have been the main victim, would seem to reinforce the notion of the existence of a Mycenaean rite of burnt sacrifice. However, it is also crucial to note that in both of these Mycenaean examples the excavators have linked these sacrificial practices to subsequent feasting activities. In the case of Ayios Konstantinos this is very much suggested by the presence of the cooking vessels and the stone spit, as well as the large number of kylikes (Hamilakis and Konsolaki, 2004: 146). But it is noted that the small scale of the complex (Room A measured some 4.30 x 2.6m) and its simple architectural structure implies that access to the area was somewhat restricted. In contrast, the remains at the Pylos palace are suggestive of the mass feeding of several hundred individuals. Thus it may well be that the motivations that created the two deposits are different: in the case of Ayios Konstantinos the excavators suggest that participation in the processes of room A was reserved for those who had “privileged access to the cosmological powers that the active participation in the sacrificial and feasting rituals would have perhaps conferred” (Ibid. 147). 22

CHAPTER TWO: SITE CATALOGUE The following chapter presents the evidence for ritual practices from a number of Minoan cult sites. I have attempted to give as wide-ranging a selection as possible, utilising several examples from each of the major types of Minoan cult site – peak sanctuaries, cave sanctuaries, urban shrines and extra-urban sanctuaries. The motivation for the selection of these sites was twofold. Firstly, they are predominantly the best known of the Minoan cult establishments, and as such they have received the most study. The advantage of this is that there has been much written regarding each of them (although some are still incompletely published) providing a depth of information. But also, secondly, they have become ingrained into discussions of Minoan sacrifice. If, from the evidence from these sites, it becomes apparent that sacrifice was not as widespread as believed it compounds the errors that were made in previous treatments of the subject as the same sites have been utilised. It is also important to address the inclusion of two sites in particular – Gournia and Karphi – which do not fall under the era of the “Palatial period.” The inclusion of Gournia and Karphi is justified on the grounds of providing a terminus post quem for the Minoan ritual practices. These shrines, and others of their class, are from a period - LM III – when there is a generally accepted (among modern scholars) influence from mainland Greece at work on Crete. Therefore, if we may associate these shrines with a notable volta in cult practice, we are better able to contextualise the ‘Minoan’ practices of the palatial period. While in any selection of sites there are omissions that some may surprise some, I have endeavoured to be as objective as possible, treating each site as individually as possible before its inclusion in the system discussed in Chapter Three. That chapter also introduces passing evidence from sites not included in this catalogue, for reasons of time, space and level of publication, in order to apply the theories proposed therein to a wider swathe of Minoan cult.

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evidence is mandatory, but given the small size of the majority of these shrines alternative ritual processes must be considered. The sites listed, as noted above, are from various locations and are some of the more significant urban deposits. I make no apologies for this as given the large number of possible sites it is logical to concentrate on the more notable, and securely identified, sanctuaries.41

DOMESTIC, URBAN AND PALACE SHRINES “In the Minoan civilisation, no temples are found, if by temples we mean a separate building set apart to be the abode of the deity and to shelter its image and paraphernalia” (Nilsson, 1950: 77) This statement of Martin Nilsson, made some fifty years ago, remains accurate today. Temples, as western scholars use the term, are not extant in Minoan Crete. However, there are small structures that act as cult sites, and there are also other areas that part of a larger complex such as the palaces,39 which may be termed shrines. Given this, there is a question that must be addressed: do these shrines, which are seemingly designed for personal or domestic cult, exhibit similar evidence pertaining to ritual processes as the peaks, caves and rural sanctuaries that would seem to be designed for popular or public cult? If the archaeology is similar then it would be fair to view the urban and extramural sanctuaries as component parts of the same religious system. However, if there is a marked dichotomy then we must account for this difference, be it in terms of complementary or contrasting ritual practices. Rutkowski states his opinion quite clearly: “…neither the domestic nor the palace sanctuaries nor the other cult places in the houses or villages were of basic importance in the lives of the Cretans” (Rutkowski, 1986: 149). For Rutkowski, the urban shrines (in all their forms) are very much the ‘poor relations’ of the extramural sanctuaries which he regards as the “principal cult places” (Ibid.). While the significance of the extramural sanctuaries is undeniable, one cannot suppose that the Minoans would allocate numerous areas of their settlements and their major structures to ritual purposes if the urban cult did not constitute a significant part of the Minoan religious milieu. The sites listed in this section of the catalogue comprise what may generally be termed ‘urban sanctuaries’, that is to say those sanctuaries that lie within the boundaries of settlements. This generic term is appropriate for two reasons. Firstly the aim of this study is not to sub-divide and endlessly classify the great variety of Minoan urban shrines.40 Secondly, in my opinion, the shrines while being different in terms of typological features (the presence of benches or pillars, for example) nevertheless seem to adhere to a general system – this is especially true of the Later Minoan period with the appearance of the ‘Goddess with Upraised Arms’ figurines. The primary focus is on the archaeological features that elucidate the ritual processes that took place within these various shrines. Where possible a focus on sacrificial 39

Obviously the shrines at Gournia and Karphi stand as separate structures, but these are still very small buildings and may still be viewed legitimately as something other than a ‘temple’. 40 Although the distinction may be made between public and private cult.

41 For those who wish to fully explore the urban sanctuaries the standard text remains Gesell (1985). There are also relevant chapters in Rutkowski (1986), Moss (2005) and Prent (2005).

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palaces. Thus it is not clear as to whom the shrine directly served.

GOURNIA SHRINE Location: Gournia is located on the northern coast of Crete, on the Isthmus of Ierapetra, the site is on a north-facing ridge less than 400m from the sea. The shrine itself is located inside the settlement in sector F (Fig. 23).

However, what can be said is that from the Gournia shrine there is no evidence for the rituals involving animals. No bones, or even iconographic representations of animal sacrifice or other rituals, are extant from the shrine. On this basis it seems very unlikely that sacrifice took place within or about the structure. The presence of the ‘horns of consecration’ and double-axe symbols do not reflect actual cult practice as we do not fully understand the symbology. However, there is only one occurrence of each symbol at Gournia, which is not enough to suggest any possible rite even if the symbolic correlation was certain.

Site Type: A built shrine within the town, which Gesell (1985: 72) classifies as an “independent bench sanctuary.” History: Although the majority of the settlement dates from MM I onwards until the LM IB destruction, the precise dating of the shrine building is complicated. The building had been assumed, by several scholars, to have been a shrine in the LMI town, but the nature of the artefacts from within it suggest that it was not used for a ritual purpose until much later (Russell, 1979: 31-2). Thus, through analogy with other shrines, notably the Shrine of the Double Axes at Knossos, it has been dated to an LM IIIB reoccupation of the site.

The form of religious structure which this building most closely resembles is the roadside shrine which is known from many cultures including Archaic-Classical Greece. Certainly its location, very close to the major West Ridge Road, and its relatively small size lend some credence to this interpretation. It may well be that wayfarers visiting or leaving the town paid their respects at the shrine, which has been conjectured as being the shrine of the local variant of a ‘Snake-Goddess’ (Moss, 2005: 16). However, this must have been done either through prayer or the deposition of non-animal food offerings. This is obviously conjecture on my part, but it does appear to fit the evidence we currently have regarding this shrine.

Discussion: The shrine is situated at the end of a narrow side road that runs off the West Ridge Road. It is a fairly small structure, measuring 4m x 3m, with three steps leading into it. Although Gesell claims it as a bench sanctuary with the bench running along the south wall, where there was a recess, this is not as clear as she would suggest as the remains are somewhat confused. The most famous artefact from this shrine is the statuette of the ‘Goddess with Upraised Arms’ (hereafter ‘G.U.A.’) (HM 1934) which measures some 0.365m high (Gesell, 1985: 72). In a largely aniconic (from an archaeological perspective) religion such a find is significant. However, the figure is very crudely made and her only distinguishing feature is a snake that wraps around her body, right shoulder and arms. Thus she is seen as a poor imitation of the ‘faience’ figurines from the Temple Repositories (q.v.). Fragments of other figurines (two heads, three arms, and two hands) were also found at the shrine, along with five ‘snake tubes’, four terracotta doves and a plastered terracotta tripod offering table. The vessels and accoutrements from the Gournia shrine seem to be fairly typical of the period – that is until we acknowledge that the finds are limited in both number and quality. It is perhaps telling that in her discussion of the site, Moss (2005: 16-17) devotes the majority of her time to a ‘solar disk’ on one of the snake tubes and a fragment of pottery from a pithos with a similar disk above a double-axe. Beyond the offering table there is little evidence for any ritual activity at the shrine. Its small size means that it cannot have been a site for mass communal worship such as is envisaged at the caves and peaks; however, it is also unlikely to have been a shrine which exhibits the exclusivity of those within the 25

with a human face in relief (Pendlebury et al., 1937: 756). But there are certain problems with these artefacts as none of the find spots are recorded. Noticeably lacking from the shrine are any examples of votive figurine that were apparent from other cult areas of the site (Prent, 2005: 141).

KARPHI Location: Karphi as a settlement is located on a steep slope on the northern side of the Lasithi plain. The plain of Lasithi lies towards the east end of Crete, about 2800 feet above sea level, and is surrounded by mountains. The two steep hills of Karphi and Koprana tower over the lowlands of the north-west and command some of the easiest entrances to the plain (Pendlebury et al., 1937: 61-2).

Clearly then the structure was of a cultic type, and was of some significance to the settlement. This is evinced by its position; many houses built upon the slopes of the saddle look down onto the shrine and several of the settlements paved roads lead up to it (Prent, 2005: 140).42 Although other religious structures were located within the settlement, for example the “Small Shrine” with its rectangular terracotta offering stand,43 this complex appears to have been the primary cult structure for the settlement. The lack of animal remains precludes sacrifice or feasting as the main ritual process at the shrine, also libation equipment seems lacking along with standard votive figurines. However, Prent makes the point that the multiple numbers of “G.U.A.” figurines (5 restored; fragments of others) “blurs the distinction between cult image and votive offering” (2005: 191-2). The presence of the ‘altar’ is suggestive of some form of oblative ritual, but beyond this we can say little more than that sacrifice seems an unlikely form of ritual performance in the Karphi “temple.”

Site Type: Karphi is referred to as a “refuge settlement” (Moss, 2005: 23) due to its strategic location and the fact that the excavators referred to the use of building materials as “indiscriminate” (Pendlebury et al., 1937: 67). The shrine or “temple” (Ibid. 75) is located at the extreme northern edge of the settlement, on the edge of a cliff. History: The permanent settlement on Karphi seems to have been a late foundation, the earlier temporary structures being replaced towards LM IIIc (Moss, 2005: 23). Thus the site forms an important bridge between the Minoan and SubMinoan and Iron Age levels. This is significant as it allows us to consider if the Palatial period religious practices persisted.

Discussion: The “temple” was the first building on the site to be excavated (Pendlebury et al., 1937: 75), and the excavators had difficulty in interpreting the fallen and roughly built stonework. However, the complex seems to have consisted of three rooms, a larger one with two adjoining rooms to the west. The large room (Room 1) is described by the original excavators as a “court”, which may well be correct as there is no evidence that it was roofed; similarly the existence of a northern wall is unclear as if one existed it may have fallen over the cliff. This room contained, along its southern wall, a low stone ledge, which has caused the complex to be characterised as an independent bench sanctuary, upon which the excavators believed the cult figures stood (Ibid.). However, the find spots for the figurines found in the structure were either not recorded or were in the northern of the two adjoining rooms (Goddess 2). Room 1 is more significant to this study as it contained a structure that has been termed an altar (Fig. 24). This ‘altar’ measures some 0.9m x 1.0m in surface area, making it comparable in size to the structure at Anemospilia (q.v.), and is located to the north of the room, thus overlooking the cliff if there were no northern wall. Although some burnt wood was recorded in the notebooks of the excavators, there were no reports of animal bone (Prent, 2005: 140-1) that would point to the practice of animal sacrifice. However, the list of finds from the structure would seem to confirm its cultic status: five figurines of the “G.U.A.” type, a large amount of bluish pottery, four spindle whorls, two cowrie shells, a triton shell, and a plaque

42

i.e. The West and Temple roads as the excavators dubbed them. This object was elaborately decorated with printed and cut-out motifs, including altars with stepped bases and ‘horns of consecration’. The four upper corners are topped with plastic animal figurines, possibly felines (Prent, 2005: 143) although Gesell sees them as bulls (1985: 81). 43

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focussing device” (Renfrew, 1985: 37), but the object on display varied.

KNOSSOS: SHRINE OF THE DOUBLE AXES Location: This small shrine is located in the south-east quarter of the palace at Knossos.

In addition to these objects were several figurines. The largest is an example of the “G.U.A.” figurine, some 22cm high. She was accompanied by two other female figurines, which Evans dubbed “votaries”, and a figure of a male adorant. Interestingly, the “G.U.A.” figurine has a bird perched atop her head, and the male figurine also seems to hold a bird (PM II: 339). Speculation about a cult of a Dove Goddess has been extant for much of the study of Minoan religion and persists today (for example; Moss, 2005: passim). However, dove or bird goddesses are not referred to in the extant Linear B tablets, unlike other deity names such as DA-PU2-RI-TO-JO PO-TI-NIJA (“The Lady of the Labyrinth”) [Gg 702] or MA-RINE-WE (“the God of Woollens”) [Ga 674 / Gg 713].

Site Type: Palace shrine. History: The shrine is dated as LM IIIB, and is associated with the reoccupation of the palace. Evans believed that the shrine had a continuous history of use as a cult location from MM III to the final use of the palace (PM II: 335); however, the arguments are not conclusive. Certainly the quality of the objects does not compare to the “Temple Repositories” (q.v.) deposit. A more recent study has suggested that the shrine was a “small, secluded space set aside to commemorate [the palace’s] past as a major, if not the major, religious centre in Crete” (Gesell, 1985: 42).

However, regardless of the nature of the deity worshipped in the shrine, certainly there is no evidence for animal sacrifice from this location. It is simply too small to have served as a sacrificial location, and neither bones nor ashes are reported from the deposit. The offering table and vessels may indicate the practise of libation. Sacrifice, in my opinion, played absolutely no part in the cult practice or observance that took place in this shrine.

Discussion: The “Shrine of the Double Axes” is often seen as the type-site for LM III palatial or town shrines; certainly Gesell seems to imply this view (Gesell 1985 passim). This is probably due to its location within the preeminent Minoan structure – the Knossian palace. In actuality, when compared to Middle Minoan deposits, the shrine is rather humble. The room itself is very small, only 1.5m x 1.5m (PM II: 336), although this is typical of shrines of its period. The room shows a triple division (Fig. 25); the first section being the stamped earth floor by the entrance, containing some jugs, bowls and an LM IIIB ‘stirrup vase’. Beyond this area, where the larger vessels stood in the shrine, was a raised dais covered in water-worn pebbles. In the centre of this section, with its feet embedded in the plaster floor, was what Evans described as a “tripod altar” (Ibid.). This is more accurately described as a tripod offering table, circular in form, with a slightly hollowed upper surface. These tables have been found in many cultic locations such as Gournia (q.v.) and Psychro (q.v.). Similarly, the waterworn pebbles are found at several peak sanctuary sites, and Evans links them to the sea-shells found in the Temple Repositories (q.v.) as showing a cultic connection with running water (PM I: 517 ff.). Immediately behind the dais and the offering table, a raised base – some 60cm high – ran wall to wall (Nilsson, 1950: 80). The cult objects were set here, again upon a number of water-worn pebbles. These consisted of two sets of ‘horns of consecration’, each with a socket between the uprights evidently for the exhibition of some cult form. Evans assumed that they were for double-axes (PM II: 336), but this entirely conjectural in this case as the only double-axe found in the shrine was a miniature steatite example. Iconography shows several objects being placed between the ‘horns of consecration’, including double-axes, boughs, bucrania, and even humanoid figures. Thus they were clearly an “attention27

ritualised deposition of the figurine following an accidental breakage). The preservation of the majority of the artefacts is excellent, the notable exception being the figurines which is suggestive of their ritualised fragmentation. Such a phenomenon is well accounted in many cultures, notably Eastern Europe in the Mesolithic, Neolithic and Copper Ages (Chapman, 2000 passim). Similar rituals of fragmentation have also been speculated on in relation to Minoan culture, but not any great degree (see Rehak 1994). Such a ritual may relate to the deposition of broken ritual objects which must be disposed of in a fitting manner according to the Talmudic principle,46 or the ritual killing of significant objects, or as a means of transferring the power of the object to the deposit it is buried with (after Chapman, 2000: 23).

KNOSSOS: THE TEMPLE REPOSITORIES Location: The Temple Repositories are two large stonelined cists located on the west side of the Central Court of the Palace of Knossos (Fig. 26), in a small room north of the Great Pillar Room. Site Type: There is no real description for this deposit. It is not so much a site in itself, being viewed as a component of the ritual make-up of the Palace. The exact nature of the deposit remains unclear, although it has recently been argued that it is akin to a foundation deposit (Hatzaki, forthcoming: 2). However, its importance to previous and current theories dealing with Minoan religion merits its inclusion in this study. History: The date of the Temple Repositories deposit is still in question, at some point from MM IIIB to LM IA. Evans preferred the earlier date, linking the deposit to a destruction of a shrine during his “Great Earthquake” (PM I: 289).44 The cists were discovered in 1903 and excavated by Evans; their presence was detected from “a slight depression in the pavement in the east section of the room” (Evans, 1902-3: 39).

The figurine of the “Snake Goddess” measures 34.2 cm in height and wears a typical Minoan dress, the bodice open at the front to reveal her breasts. Several snakes entwine her body leading to her identification as a “Snake Goddess” (Fig. 27). The two other figurines from the ETR were identified by Evans as being votaries of the “Snake Goddess” although it must be acknowledged that the third figure (HM 64) is fragmentary with only the waist to lower hem of the skirt surviving: this piece alone is 17 cm high which entails that the full figure would have been the largest of the three. Thus, if size alone was to determine which should be considered a representation of a goddess, then this figure would deserve the title (Moss, 2005: 56). However, it is unclear where the remainder of this figure actually is. This is interesting as if this is the primary figure of the group then it may reflect a process of enchainment between the Temple Repositories and another deposit, linking the two by the sharing of the power embodied in the parts of the main figurine.

Discussion: The Temple Repositories are perhaps the most famous single deposit in Minoan archaeology (Hatzaki, forthcoming: 2) and, as they are of a ritual nature, their significance cannot be overemphasised. The East Temple Repository (hereafter ETR) is slightly larger than its counterpart and is built of slabs of “hard grey limestone” (Evans, 1902-3: 44) arranged in two tiers. The West Temple Repository (hereafter WTR) is of a different construction using blocks of limestone, instead of slabs, arranged in three courses (Ibid. 47). Despite this difference in construction the two cists are contemporary and their contents complementary. The ETR contained objects of faience, ivory and bone; a clay tablet, roundels and sealings; a marble cross and stone libation tables; and antlers, carbonised corn and seashells. The WTR contained fewer faience objects; a great quantity of gold foil with attached carbonised matter, crystal plaques and a disc; objects of bronze and a “mallet of limestone” (Panagiotaki, 1999: 73). Both cists contained a large number of vases and pottery vessels, as well as a massive quantity of beads.45

It is also interesting that if these deposits are to be considered ritual in nature (which in my opinion they are), then there is a notable lack of pottery or ceramic wares in forms designed for eating or drinking (Hatzaki, forthcoming: 5) In contrast to the vast majority of pottery deposits from the Palace, where the conical cup47 in particular is in abundance (Popham, 1977: 190-195), here 40-50 storage vessels were distributed between the two cists. They were mainly excavated as complete vessels and as such are in sharp contrast to the broken faience objects. Hatzaki (Ibid. 6) sees this as showing that the objects originally came from different locations in the Palace which, if correct, lessens the credibility of the “ruined shrine” hypothesis. While this is speculative, what seems more certain is that rituals concerned with

Undoubtedly, the most famous objects to come from the Temple Repositories are the figurines – most notably the “Snake Goddess.” This figure was found split between the two cists; the head, bust and arms in the ETR (in fragmentary conditions), and the part below the waist in the WTR. This is of great importance as it not only corroborates the contemporaneous nature of the two cists, but also is suggestive of the deliberate breaking of the figurine to place it in both chambers (or of the deliberate

46 The Talmudic principle is that an object, once it has become “holy”, cannot be returned to an object for everyday use: cf. Garwood et al, 1991. This, of course, assumes a major rift between the sacred and the profane worlds. 47 The conical cup is seen as one of the most ubiquitous features of many Minoan secular and cult sites. These small, coarse, handle-less cups, suggestive of mass production for a single use as they are often found stacked in large numbers, have received much attention in recent years after being overlooked for much of the study of Minoan Crete. See Gillis, C., 1990, Minoan Conical Cups: Form, Function and Significance, Göteborg

44

See below for a discussion of the alternative explanations. A little more than 2000 exist in the KSM, HM, and AM – but it is unclear if all of them are from the Temple Repositories (Panagiotaki, 1999: 93). 45

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eating and drinking are unconnected with the Temple Repository deposits.

Although the ETR and WTR display no real evidence for blood sacrifice, there are interesting inclusions of objects that have been associated with this ritual practice in previous scholarship. These include four offering tables – small and well-fashioned of marble, breccia and, the last, of serpentine: their sides taper to a small flat base, while in plan they are square with a shallow central bowl with a raised collar. By definition these are presumed to have held offerings of food or drink (they are suitable for both), but none exhibit evidence of burning. In addition to these tables, two stone hammers were found in the WTR. Although Evans associated them with an attempt to loot the Repositories, it is likely that they were a feature of the original deposit (until Evans’ excavations the cists were undisturbed). These hammers are seemingly identical to those implements that are carried by robed figures (exclusively) on numerous Minoan sealings. These figures are usually identified as priests or priestesses (Marinatos, 1986: 22; Marinatos, 1993: 127140) and, as a result, the objects have been viewed in ritual terms, with the most usual interpretation being that they were a weapon used for stunning the sacrificial victim. However, Evans records that the two hammers from the WTR were “in a fractured and much battered condition” (PM I: 468) which suggests that they were used for a more “heavy-duty” purpose.

The same, it must be said, is true for sacrificial rituals and their associated remains. The original excavation commented on several aspects of the deposit that may, at first, be seen as being associated with sacrifice: namely “the ivory handle of a sacrificial blade” (PM I: 496), the deer antlers, and the greasy condition of the soil – “the earth grew fatter and more compact” (Ibid. 467). However, these are equally easily (and somewhat more convincingly) otherwise explained. The “handle” is more likely to be a piece of inlay from a larger object – a lyre is one possible suggestion (Panagiotaki, 1999: 120). It is certainly an inlay – the back is scratched, as is usual for the better application of the glue – and its form and shape make it unsuitable as an inlay on the handle of any form of weapon or sacrificial instrument. The antlers (3) are naturally shed (Ibid. 149) and come from a red or fallow deer (Hatzaki, forthcoming: 4), a species not native to Crete and unique among the prehistoric faunal material from Knossos. This unique quality may account for their inclusion in the deposit. Finally, the greasy condition of the soil may be explained through leakage from the storage vessels, some of which were almost certainly for the storage of oil or wine, rather than through burning or decomposition of further animal remains.

What, then, may be said in conclusion about the Temple Repositories? Firstly, that as a major ritual deposit from Minoan Crete overtly sacrificial associations are conspicuous by their absence. Secondly, that the deposit was deliberate and designed not to be re-opened. The fact that two smaller cists had been built over the closed tops of the main pair (probably in the course of their being closed) in a raised floor level firmly demonstrates that no disturbance was then planned to occur (Panagiotaki, 1999: 150). Thirdly, that the deposit is incredibly rich – a fact attested to by the amount of gold and faience objects, and the quality of craftsmanship that went into their making – but that ‘typical’ Minoan religious symbols, such as the double-axe and ‘horns of consecration’, are absent.

However, while animal or blood sacrifice seems to have played no part in the formation of the Temple Repositories deposit, offering certainly seems to have been a crucial aspect of the deposit. The presence of cereals is undoubted; Evans stated that they were “found in some abundance” (Evans, 1902-3: 41) and as such they were clearly a major feature of the deposit. Similarly, a number of finds seem to suggest a marine connection,48 perhaps offerings to a deity with their τίμη in that sphere. Marine shells were found in immense numbers – Hatzaki suggests a minimum of 6340 (Hatzaki, forthcoming: 4): their condition implies that they were collected as beach shells of already dead animals (Panagiotaki, 1999: 149). Also, the vertebrae of several species of fish were placed within the deposit – the largest belonging to a shark (Hatzaki, forthcoming: 4). Thus the marine connection is strong in relation to the faunal material. However, Evans seemingly saw these vertebrae, along with a weasel skull that was also found in the deposit, as a “snake;” probably due to the presence of snakes on the figurines. Panagiotaki (1999) includes a plate (her Plate XVII; here Fig. 28) showing the recreation of this “monster”, a plate that was created by Evans but was never used in publication: In Palace of Minos I the same scene appears but with an offering table pasted in place of the “snake’s” position (Fig. 29). However, Hatzaki (forthcoming: 4) states that “it is tempting all the same to link and envisage a ‘monster’, as a symbolic representation of a ‘snake’ meant for display.”

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The purpose of this deposit is ultimately unclear; although Hatzaki’s arguments for its identification as a “foundation” or “building deposit” (Hatzaki, forthcoming: 9) are quite convincing, including the ritual ‘killing’ of certain objects within the deposit as a demonstration of the power of the Palace (Ibid. 10). However, their uniqueness as a deposit makes the Temple Repositories very difficult to contextualise.

See Chapter Three: 98-100 for a discussion of maritime sacrifice.

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Pelon is certainly correct in his statement that bulls are often seen upon tables in iconographic representations (Fig. 31); however, there are several fundamental assumptions that have been made about such images that are important to note in relation to this hypothesis. The first is that they are accurate renderings of rituals and, secondly, that the depicted rite was a sacrifice. In actuality there is no real evidence that this is what the sealings and other image sources depict. Pelon, however, has no qualms about reconstructing the ritual process he envisages for salle β on exactly these lines. Even Marinatos sees this reconstruction as being suspect, postulating correctly (in my opinion) that the “flimsy wooden structure leaning against a wall” would be unsuitable to support such a large creature as a bull. Equally she questions the convenience of leading a bull to salle β in the first place (Marinatos, 1986: 21). However, while we should be wary of confusing practicality, which is primarily a secular concept, with the involved schemes of ritual practices, Marinatos’ observations are pertinent as there is no real evidence for sacrifice from salle β.

SALLE β: MALIA Location: This room is located beneath Quartiers III-IV in the palace of Malia, the area usually referred to as the “Domestic Quarters” (Marinatos, 1986: 19). Site Type: Palace sanctuary. History: The shrine dates to the First Palace Period (Pelon, 1983: 696) and was excavated by Pelon (Fig. 30). Discussion: In previous discussions regarding Minoan ritual, salle β is usually treated as a primary example of a major palace sanctuary (for example, Marinatos 1986). The original excavator was convinced of its sacral nature, he viewed it as “…une destination religieuse, et plus particulièrement sacrificielle” (Ibid. 690). However, in reality this might not be as accurate as this statement would imply. The room is certainly of some architectural significance as not only is it of large size, some 65 square metres, but is also contains several interesting features. Firstly, narrow ledges divide the eastern half of the room into three aisles – a very interesting feature as there is no obvious structural reason for this division and so it must relate to the room’s function. Marinatos (1986: 21) compares salle β with Assyrian temples (although the latter are differently articulated around a focal niche) and considers the possibility that the ledges were for the display of votives and figurines. However, it should be noted that no objects were found in situ on these platforms.

The only faunal remain we may associate with salle β actually comes from the adjacent salle γ, which is believed to have been connected to salle β by means of a window as no threshold between the two, as would serve as a doorway, was found in the excavation. Even so the remains, which Marinatos describes as the “horns of bovines” (1986: 19), were actually extremely limited; in fact only one horn was found (Pelon, 1983: 691 and Fig. 15). Thus even if we associated the deposit in salle β directly with that of salle γ, which was practically devoid of artefacts aside from the horncore, there is not enough evidence to suppose that sacrificial rituals were the norm in salle β. The actual deposit in β is also not directly relatable to blood sacrificial rituals. The most famous artefacts to come from the room were two swords – one with the famous acrobat inscribed on the pommel of the handle (Pelon, 1982: 176). These were found, in association with some small (possibly votive) vases of the Chamiazi type, at the base of the northern platform. However, this was effectively all of the deposit and while the swords appear to have been ceremonial I find it hard to believe that they were utilised as sacrificial weapons. In truth, little of the deposit of salle β, or its architecture, seems to correlate well with sacrifice. Marinatos incorporates salle β into her system of sacrifice by judging it to be the site of a “supplementary ritual” (1986: 21). However, I cannot agree with this as it forces the question; “If a site contains no real evidence for sacrifice, why should we try to associate that site with sacrifice?” The only pertinent answer must relate to the preconceptions and theories of the individual archaeologist: Pelon and, to a lesser extent, Marinatos approached the evidence already convinced that sacrificial rituals were a primary cult practice among the Minoans. Salle β exhibit little evidence for rituals other than libation, which is a fairly sound deduction based on the architectural features outlined above. Thus, libation must be viewed as being the primary cult practice at salle β.

The second significant feature of this room comes in the form of a channel at the eastern end of the room which seems to run from a hole on the eastern ledge toward the wall at that end of the room. When we add to the evidence of this channel that of the jars sunk into the floor of salle β, the “vases collecteurs”, we may begin to suppose that liquids played a predominant role in the activities in this room. Indeed, according to Pelon, it is “difficile de refuser taute connexion entre le dispositif observé sur le plate-forme, les rigoles voisines et les vases collecteurs placés à son pied” (Pelon, 1983: 690). The final significant feature of salle β is from the eastern platform and was designated as an “étagère” or “shelf” (Ibid. 689). This feature, however, is entirely inferred by the excavators. The eastern platform is marked by several sockets or cuttings which Pelon saw as being designed for the reception of a wooden structure, either a shelf or a table. But after this initial mention of the “étagère” Pelon focusses entirely on his hypothesis of a sacrificial table: “The ‘table’ is known from figured representations, although from a period after that of the first palaces, and in constant connection with the sacrifice of an animal, most commonly the bull.” (Ibid. 689; my translation)

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upon the quality of excavation and publication which, as we have seen, varies dramatically. Where the faunal remains are archaeologically absent, i.e. none were excavated, or the published details are vague, the catalogue discusses alternative ritual practices and the data pertinent to them in an effort to establish a cultic context of peak sanctuary practice.

PEAK SANCTUARIES “It was usually situated on the mountain- or hill-top, but not necessarily on its highest summit. Natural terraces, rocks, crevices or an entrance to a cleft or cave are normal features. The area was covered by low plants, but trees are rare. Constructions survived in a few cases, they are walls of buildings, terraces and walls surrounding the sacred area, and altars. The sacred mountains is [sic] always situated at a distance from the settlement or town; and usually a pilgrim had some twenty to forty minutes climbing from his home to the god’s habitation, but in most cases the mountain was well visible from the neighbourhood. These topographical features alone, however, are not sufficient grounds for recognising a peak sanctuary. Only the presence of votive offerings in addition to the layout of the site, are a safe criterion for defining a given site as a peak sanctuary” (Rutkowski, 1988: 74) This would be the “picture of a canonical peak sanctuary” that has been built up over the last century of Minoan studies and is, in some respects, indicative of the current state of knowledge regarding Minoan religion. Much is made of the concept of the ‘type site’, in other words the search for pattern and similarity between various sites. This is all well and good, but it must be done carefully as it is all too easy to gloss over differences and variation in an effort to maintain the pattern. ‘The devil is in the detail’ and, as such, it is imperative to fully understand the variety of ritual process at one type of site, before one attempts to correlate the data from examples of several types of site. The peaks have attracted much of the attention devoted to Minoan religion, often seen as being a parallel development alongside the palaces. In 1951, Platon produced a basic definition of Cretan peak sanctuaries and their rituals (Platon, 1951: 96-160) in which he described the primary ceremony as consisting of sacrificing animals in a great bonfire, the remains of which were then placed in crevices and hollows in the bedrock. The purpose of these rituals, he asserted, was to ask the deity for health, fecundity, prosperity and protection against harm. Thus for Platon the ritual practices of peak sanctuary cult are obvious and apparent. However, it must be stated that this is largely speculative and unsubstantiated. It is this form of rhetorical statement that has dogged the study of Minoan ritual, where preconceptions and assumption have overwhelmed substantiated argument to an extent. Thus this catalogue aims to focus on the facts regarding the various sites – or rather a selection thereof as there are more peaks than those listed here. This selection has deliberately focussed on the better known and more extensively published sites. Wherever possible the stress has been laid on the faunal and associated remains which may be pertinent to the arguments about sacrificial rituals. Obviously this information is entirely dependent 31

of ritual meals, despite the absence of ash and faunal remains at the site that would seem to preclude this. Moreover, none of the cooking pot fragments show evidence of burning, suggesting that they were never used. It is possible that the vessels were used for the offering of non-animal foodstuffs – a vase fragment from Gypsadhes appears to show such an offering (Fig. 32) – although as noted above no seeds were found. This would also obfuscate, to a degree, the purpose of pottery found at other sites in context with ash and bone. Equally, however, in both cases the pottery need not be connected with any other rite, it could simply act as a form of oblation in itself.

ATSIPADHES KORAKIAS Location: The site is located on the northern spur of the Kouropos massif, south of Rethymnon, at an altitude of 735m above sea-level (Peatfield, 1992: 62-63). Site Type: Atsipadhes has been identified as a peak sanctuary. History: The earliest use of Atsipadhes as a cult site goes back to the pre-Palatial period. Peatfield’s rigorous collection of over 2500 pottery fragments gives a terminus post quem of no later than EM II, and a terminus ante quem of MM II. Thus it can be characterised as a First Palace Period peak sanctuary. Peatfield’s excavation is the only one to be carried out at the site.

Beyond all else, Atsipadhes’ ritual process seems to have revolved around the deposition of figurines. The animal figurines claim the greater percentage of the record, the majority believed to be bovid horn or leg fragments (Peatfield, 1992: 72). It should be noted that all of the figurines, both human and animal, were of terracotta; no stone or metal examples were found. Moreover, the quality of the figurines overall is cruder than those found at Juktas or Petsophas. It is on the basis of this evidence that Peatfield classifies Atsipadhes as a “rural peak sanctuary” (Ibid. 77-9), in contrast to those that enjoyed some form of palatial patronage,49 and as such was utilised by a relatively “impoverished” group of people. This is possible, especially given the relatively small scale of the site; however, this would not sufficiently explain the markedly different remains found at the sites. Yet Peatfield adheres to the belief that all the peaks are examples of the same cult activity and that they “symbolically unify Minoan society, transcending regional differences” (Ibid. 61). I cannot see this as being correct, for while it is certain that the peak sanctuary is a type of Minoan cult site, there is enough regional and inter-site variation to suggest that the concept of a monolithic Minoan religion is somewhat ill-advised.50

Discussion: The site consisted of two terraces, the most important feature in the identification of Atsipadhes as a peak sanctuary. The upper terrace was to the west of the site, and a large number of riverine pebbles had been scattered over its surface (Peatfield, 1992: 68). The lower terrace, to the east, had some rock clefts which had been filled with votive offerings (Ibid. 67). During the course of the excavation more than 5000 fragments of figurine – mainly of cattle – all of terracotta (Ibid. 66), and a huge quantity of pottery were found. This included spouted jars; many different kinds of cups, dishes and rhyta (including one example of the bovid head style); terracotta offering tables; lamps; pithoi; and tripod cooking pots (Ibid. 69-71). This range of pottery, notably the pouring and drinking vessels, conforms to the pattern for the majority of cult sites that suggests that libations and other rituals involving liquids were extensively practised on Minoan Crete. However, in a number of other respects Atsipadhes does not appear to be typical. The first of these anomalous features is the absence of built structures as no architectural remains were found. Secondly, a different ritual process seems to have dominated at Atsipadhes rather than that of the other peaks. One of the most common features ascribed to the peak sanctuaries is the ritual use of fire, but one of the most idiosyncratic features of Atsipadhes is the lack of evidence for burning: in Peatfield’s own words, “We found none” (1992: 66). In complement to the unusual absence of ash and carbonised material, there was a total absence of bone, and flotation sieving of the soils did not find any seeds. Thus Atsipadhes exhibits an absolute dearth of the evidence usually quoted as being indicative of sacrificial ritual. Peatfield seeks to explain this by claiming that ritual fires must have been a feature of the Second Palace Period, but other sites – for example, Juktas (q.v.), Gonies (q.v.), Petsophas (q.v.), and Psychro (q.v.) – clearly show the use of fire before, during, and after this time.

This is certainly the case with the evidence for sacrificial ritual. Its total absence from the site of Atsipadhes, along with the typically associated archaeological or iconographic paraphernalia – double-axes, altars or ‘horns of consecration’ – is perhaps indicative that sacrificial ritual was not as widespread as the majority of writing on the subject would suggest. At the very least it is abundantly clear that as the primary archaeological indicators of sacrificial ritual are utterly absent from Atsipadhes we may safely state that animal sacrifice played no part in the cult processes at the site.

49 Peatfield is one who adheres to the parallel evolution of peaks and palaces seeing several examples of direct linkages between the two: for example, seeing Juktas as being Knossos’ peak sanctuary (although geography suggests that Juktas could equally be associated with Archanes). 50 See Chapter Three: 104-107 for a full discussion

But by way of confusing the matter, Peatfield sees the huge range of pottery he recovered as being the remains 32

GONIES In addition to the built structures, the cult area at Gonies included a terrace area adjacent to the rooms. Again the terrace is characterised by piles of stones (M and N) although as Rutkowski admits (1988: 80) “the character of these piles is uncertain.” In addition to these piles, a notable feature of the terrace is Assembly O, a depression filled with stones. These features – rocky outcrops and crevices – are typical of the terrain of the notional peak sanctuary.

Location: The sanctuary of Gonies lies on the mountain of Philioremos (roughly 25km to the north-west of Juktas), which rises 797m above sea-level. The terraces lie at the highest part of the hill. Site Type: Peak sanctuary. History: Rutkowski states that the foundation of the site dates to MM I, based on the artefacts excavated. However, it seems to have been rather short-lived as it appears to have stopped being used for cult after the Middle Minoan period. The sanctuary was discovered during the construction of the modern chapel of the Prophet Elias (Kyriakidis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: Appendix 1: 15), and while the quality of the excavations was good the site is not fully published.

Also typical are the types of find from the Gonies: human figurines were numerous and spread over the whole site, with some of the female examples having ornate headgear (Jones, 1999: 13). Votive limbs were also widespread but were especially numerous in Rooms 2 and 3. Room 1, by contrast, was dominated by animal figurines, primarily caprids, which Kyriakidis notes were found in a burnt patch in the north-east corner (Kyriakidis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: Appendix 1:15).

Discussion: Rutkowski (1986: 79) defines the sacred area at Gonies as the highest terrace and the three rooms of the building – one of which may have been an open court surrounded by a low wall. The walls were constructed of local, rough-cut stone.

Gonies is a site at which, while it contains some evidence for the ritualised use of animals, the evidence is compromised in terms of its location and quantity. As such I feel that Gonies cannot be used as a prime exemplar for discussions of Minoan sacrificial rituals.

Room 1 measured 6.5 x 6.88m and was paved, though may not have been roofed. The most significant feature of this area comes in the form of three stone blocks. While they are not now in situ but scattered around the room, the excavator’s information suggests that they were found together at the south end of the room and were the remains of an altar structure (Rutkowski, 1988: 80; Kyriakidis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: Appendix 1:15). These blocks were clearly a significant feature as they were carefully worked in contrast to the rough hewn stone of the building’s construction; however, to identify them as an altar is rather adventurous. Yet the presence of several bones in the centre of the room, associated with two schist plaques, is suggestive of the possibility of rituals involving animals. The bones are not identified, however, not even in terms of skeletal elements let alone species, nor quantified beyond “several” (Kyriakidis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: Appendix 1:15). Room 2 is of similar construction to that of Rm.1, but is smaller – 4.16 x 4.61m – and is largely devoid of features pertinent to the practices that took place at the site. Room 3, to the south of the site, is the largest room measuring 7.95 x 5.45m, and like the others is largely made of rough hewn stone, although Rutkowski notes that the outer face of wall J was carefully constructed from large stones (1988: 80). This room appears to have been a later addition to the site as its north wall (D), also the south wall of Room 1, was built of a double course of stones; in effect, two walls butting up against one another. Again a large number of stones are noted in the deposit R toward the south-east corner. This could also be the remains of an altar but, given the fact that deposit R was not fully excavated, even Rutkowski gives a more prosaic source for them suggesting that they may have been “gathered by shepherds” (Ibid.) 33

Even this brief stratigraphy relates the fact that at various periods different ritual activities were practised at Juktas, each with a seeming period of vogue. But the levels do not precisely indicate the nature of the ritual process. However, there has been so much material excavated from the site that we may begin to elucidate these practices. In addition the architectural features of the site are suggestive of the practices that took place. Of those that have received attention in the past the two most significant are the ‘Chasm’ and the ‘altar’.

JUKTAS Location: Located some thirteen kilometres south-west of Knossos, Mt. Juktas rises to 811m above sea-level and has two peaks, the highest being Psili Korphi. Famously, when viewed from the side the mountain resembles the profile of the face of a lying man (Fig. 33). Site Type: Peak sanctuary. History: Juktas is often seen as the type site by which all other peak sanctuaries are identified and has become seen, to some extent, as the Minoan cult site par excellence. Juktas allows us to study a site with an incredibly long period of use; probably being founded as early as EM II/III (Nowicki, 1994: 40-41) and continuing until some time in the Geometric / Archaic period (c.700 B.C.) (Karetsou, 1981: 145). This makes the site one of those at which cult activity persisted beyond the collapse of the palaces. The site was investigated in a preliminary manner by Evans among others, though the majority of the site was excavated thoroughly by Karetsou between 1974 and 1984.

The ‘Chasm’ (Fig. 34), a large cleft in the earth next to Terraces I and II, has been excavated down to a depth of around 10m (Marinatos, 1993: 118) and seems to have been filled with a number of votives. It is speculated (Ibid.) that the offerings that were placed on the terraces and around the ‘altar’ were cleared into the ‘Chasm’ after a certain period. This process could either be part of the ritual cleaning / clearing of the site, or may be part of the actual deposition process. It is clear that they were placed in the ‘Chasm’ with some care rather than simply being dumped – thus it is clear that the ‘Chasm’ was at least the focus of the secondary ritual process at Juktas. Some have seen the ‘Chasm’ as the reason for the significance of the site, and possibly even the reason for the initial cult foundation. However, if this is the case then the altar and cult buildings seem to have replaced it in later phases.

Discussion: Juktas is one of the most important cult sites on Crete, indeed Peatfield goes so far as to identify the sanctuary as “the Canterbury cathedral of Crete”, seeing it as a place of national pilgrimage. This importance is shown by the huge Cyclopean walls, 3m wide and up to 3.60m in height with a circumference of 735m (Ibid. 151). The exact date of the construction of the walls is still in debate: although the discovery of a decorated offering table in the wall dating, from MM III / LM I (c. 1700-1650 B.C.), suggests that the wall was a later addition to the site.51 However, regardless of the date of its construction, it is likely that this structure was a physical manifestation of an earlier implied sacral boundary.

The ‘altar’ has certainly received a great deal of attention, and rightly so as it is on of the few distinguishable fixed altar structures found at a Minoan cult site. The altar itself exhibits no traces of burning, but the terraces around it have large ash layers extending over them – a testament to the use of fire at Juktas. Therefore, while it seems unlikely that the altar was utilised in a manner similar to the Classical Greek altars, that is as bases for the sacrificial fire, it seems that the altar was the focus for the deposition of votives. Literally hundreds of votive objects have been recovered, making Juktas perhaps the richest cult site on Crete: given that “we are dealing with a sanctuary destroyed not only by robbers and the natural passage of time, but also by human intervention which has continued up to recent times” (Karetsou, 1981: 185), we can only guess at the richness of offerings that might once have been present.

The stratigraphy of the sanctuary over the initial periods of use, down to the hypothetical date of the temenos wall’s construction, can be divided into three major phases: EM – MM IIB: This period is dominated by an ash layer containing large numbers of ovicaprid bones and some shells.

Around the altar a hoard of 34 bronze double-axes were found (Karetsou, 1981: 149). This is one of the few archaeological deposits in which the double-axe is associated with an altar.52 However, this does not entail that they were used as a sacrificial weapon, especially given that here, as in most cases, the majority of the axes (32 out of 34) are of the miniature variety. In my opinion, these axes were another class of the personal votive artefacts with which the terraces of Juktas abound. The majority of these votives are figurines, both human and animal, and were found primarily around Terrace I, or near the altar itself. The male figurines far outnumber the

MM IIB – MM IIIA: This phase is notably different from the preceding layer as it is characterised by a red earth layer in which the votive offerings are dominant and faunal remains are largely absent. MM IIIA – LM IB: This phase consists of another ash layer which, in essence, is the same as the earlier level. However, there is a marked increase in prestigious artefacts such as stone offering tables (Zeimbekis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: 37).

51 Recent thinking has also suggested that the wall may be even later, dating to LM IIIB (Dickinson, 2006: personal communication).

52 Other notable examples being Psychro (q.v.) and the High Priest’s House at Knossos.

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female (Karetsou, 1981: 146), but all appear to be modelled in gestures of adoration – arms outstretched or clamped over the chest. This has led to the general consensus that these figurines (mainly terracotta, but some of bronze) are representations of worshippers rather than deities. The animal figurines, of both wild and domestic species, have largely been viewed as surrogate sacrifices. However, there is no direct evidence to suggest that these votive animal figurines are intended as a facsimile of an actual sacrificial animal and it would seem more prudent to view them as gifts in themselves. Zeimbekis (Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: 34) notes that the majority of the figurines are of bovids, whereas the majority of the bones are from ovicaprids., so to suggest an explanation of a substitute for an actual animal oversimplifies the situation. Moreover, this theory does not account for the few examples of figurines from species whose faunal remains are not found at the site, such as snakes, rodents and insects. The final types of object found on the terraces and around the altar at Juktas seem, once again, to indicate that liquids played a major role in the cult practices at this peak sanctuary. Stone offering tables have been found all over the site, associated with them was a wide range of pottery including pouring and coking vessels. The ubiquitous conical cup53 is present in huge numbers at Juktas, attesting not only to the mass attendance of the site, but also of the prevalence of drinking rituals, or possibly the presentation of individual liquid offerings. However, there is also a comparatively large amount of evidence for animal sacrifice. As can be seen from the limited stratigraphy, animal bones are found primarily in the two ash layers. These bones are from sheep and goats in the main, although there are remains of pigs and cattle. The caprid and pig remains exhibit some cut marks suggestive of butchery (Watrous, 1996: 71). Of the few bones that are found in the red MM IIB layer, these are primarily bucrania (the horns and skull plate of a bovine), apparently similar to those deposited at Kato Syme (q.v.). Again, however, it seems unlikely that the rites practised at Juktas may be described as a burnt sacrificial ritual akin to the Classical θυσία ritual. The lack of calcinations of the recovered bones suggests cooking of meat rather than complete consumption by fire. Similarly, the lack of complete or articulated animal skeletons is suggestive of the use of specific cuts of meat being the normal practice rather than the wholesale slaughter and offering of animals. Thus Juktas is most certainly a site where, we may confidently state, animals were used in the ritual practices. Indeed it is difficult to account for the faunal deposits at this site by any process other than sacrifice.

53

Gillis, C., 1990, Minoan Conical Cups: Form, Function and Significance, Göteborg.

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objects is almost entirely lacking in bronze and other metal artefacts (q.v.) – it is clear that Kophinas is a major cult site, ostensibly richer than the majority of the peaks. However, as with many of the peaks, among the published material, evidence pertaining to the possible practice of sacrificial ritual is scarce. Within the temenos the Minoan layer is characterised by black earth which, according to Rutkowski, is “composed of ashes from offerings” (Rutkowski, 1988: 83). However, as is typically the case there is no accompanying evidence to support this claim. What offerings were made to create these ashes? There is no report of faunal remains associated with the Minoan acme, nor of traces of burning on the figurines or other artefacts. Thus if these ashes are from an oblative origin then the offerings themselves must have been of a perishable nature. Yet it is equally plausible to suggest that these ashes are not the result of offerings. Fire may have been used to purge or purify the sacred area of the sanctuary. This may account for the fact that ashes do not occur at all sites as the purifying process may have only occurred in extraordinary circumstances.55 However, the definite ascription of a sacrificial quality to these remains is far too much based on assumption. But it is clear that Kophinas is a major cult locale, not only as it is the only identified peak sanctuary in the south of Crete, but also as the objects of precious material are very uncommon among the peaks. Similarly, Peatfield (1990: 127) reports some Linear A inscriptions from Kophinas – although he does not identify the objects thus inscribed (though in all probability they were tables of offering) – which are typically viewed as being a major cult indicator. In addition, Rutkowski (1988: 84) reports a number of storage vessels (including pithoi) which may lend some support to his “offering”-laden theories.

KOPHINAS Location: The site lies at Metsolati tou Kophina, 970m above sea level, below the actual summit of Kophinas (1231m) (Rutkowski, 1988: 83). This is significant as Kophinas is the only example of a peak sanctuary in southern Crete. Site Type: Probable peak sanctuary. History: While Rutkowski (1988: 83) maintains that the temenos of Kophinas may have been in use as early as MM I, the acme of the site is MM III – LM I (Prent, 2005: 165). While there is a hiatus in cult activity after the Neopalatial period (i.e. after LM IIIA1) it nevertheless resumes in the Classical era. The site was excavated as a rescue excavation by Platon and Davaras in 1960, in response to extensive pillaging. Discussion: Although Kophinas was originally questioned as a peak sanctuary its identification as such is now generally accepted. Certainly the finds from Kophinas are those that are seen as typical of a peak sanctuary. It is possible that the fact that Kophinas is not visible from a distance, unlike the majority of peak sanctuaries, may have led to its original exclusion from the category. The concept of the intervisibility of the peaks in one that has long dominated their study and has added credence to the theory that the peaks were dominated and characterised by the same rites. However, given the fact that Kophinas, which is a major site – for example, only Kophinas and Juktas show cult activity in the post-Palatial period (Jones, 1999: 24) – does not conform to this pattern may suggest certain flaws that accompany that preconception. The finds from Kophinas are indicative of a major cult site. The primary Minoan layer within the temenos contained an abundance of pottery in addition to terracotta animal figurines (mostly of bulls), bull-shaped rhyta and terracotta figurines of females and, especially, males – some of which were up to 0.5m tall (Prent, 2005: 165). There is also a wealth of precious material from the site such as stone tables of offering, stone vases, and seal stones (Ibid.). Most significant, however, is the massive quantity of bronze. “Bronzes are not especially common or numerous at peak sanctuaries” (Jones, 1999: 7): Kophinas is thus a marked exception from the norm. There were two bronze anthropomorphic figurines (one male, one female), bronze waste, fragments of bronze talent ingots and, significantly, tens of bronze knives, although it is unclear if the latter were votive or functional. In addition to these bronze objects, there was also a lead double-axe, some objects of gold and semiprecious stones.54

However, in terms of definite sacrificial evidence, Kophinas – although it is a rich sanctuary – does not exhibit a coherent pattern of evidence to allow us to reconstruct a sacrificial rite at the site. Most significant in relation to this matter is the utter absence of reports of faunal remains, which is suggestive of animal sacrifice not being a feature of the cult process at Kophinas.

Thus if we compare the finds from Kophinas to, say, Petsophas – which while it displays an profusion of clay 54

Thus if we remember the “extensive pillaging” that prompted the excavations we may speculate that there may have been even more prestige objects.

55 See Chapter Three: 65-66 for a discussion of the origin of the ashes at Minoan cult sites.

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and the bodice of her dress is open revealing her breasts (Myres, 1903: Plate VIII). Such headgear as this is unparalleled at other peak sanctuaries, and casts some doubt on the hypothesis that the sanctuaries are uniform. Although it must be acknowledged that the difference may be a result of regional variation within Crete.

PETSOPHAS Location: Petsophas lies south-east of the town site of Palaikastro, some 215m above sea-level (Moss, 2005: 103). The site overlooks the town and can be seen from it.

In addition to these human figurines, Myres also reported one larger fragment of a human face (Ibid. 375-6 and Plate XII, no.34) which was found in rock cleft H, toward the east of the site. It is note worthy due to its large size; the nose measures 6cm and the eye nearly 3cm (Ibid. 375), when the average size of the other human figurines measure 14cm. Myres did not speculate about the significance of this fragment but was clearly aware of it as it merits an individual section in his report. The specifics of the piece do not allow us to firmly identify the gender of the figure, but it is possible that it served as a cult figure (Moss, 2005: 106). Certainly if an application of scale is made between the fragment and the Palaikastro Kouros, where the eyes of the latter measure less than a centimetre, then we may logically assume a similar ratio in size with the entire figure.

Site Type: Peak Sanctuary. History: The finds from Petsophas suggest that it begins possibly as early as EM III, but that it was certainly in use as a peak sanctuary by the beginning of MM II. This use continued until MM IIIB / LM IA according to Rutkowski (1986: 97) although this level of precision is perhaps inappropriate as it is likely that the other major sites continued to be used until the end of the Second Palace Period. The site was excavated extensively by Myres at the beginning of the twentieth century (BSA IX, 1903). Discussion: Myres’ excavation of Petsophas is one of the few extensive, detailed and largely published studies of a peak sanctuary (Karetsou at Juktas and Peatfield at Atsipadhes are really the only other examples) and as such the report is of great importance.

Petsophas also exhibited large numbers of votive limbs (Myres, 1903: 374-5). Not only do these occur in greater numbers than at other sites, they are also more varied.56 Many of them had small holes in one extremity, possibly for suspension (Ibid. 374), and both male and female examples are present. Some terminate at the end of the limb, but others include aspects of the torso or trunk (Ibid. Plate XII, no.41): a few figurines, exclusively male, had been deliberately bisected vertically and, therefore, may be treated as a category of votive body parts.57

Myres identified three distinct layers at Petsophas, at least in the area north-west of the wall DF: the first being the “surface earth” – the brown loam of the region – which was dominated by small stones and broken pottery and figurines. Its depth ranged between 40-60cm which Myres explained by the southward slope of the site (Myres, 1903: 357). The second level was an almost horizontal level of nearly black earth, some 17-20cm thick, which was “full of ashes and fragments of charcoal, and crowded with figurines” (Ibid. 357-8). Myres speculated that the black layer originated in a large bonfire into which the figurines had been thrown. This is probably correct in this instance especially when we consider that the third layer excavated at the site, beneath the black layer, consisted of a level of “clayey earth of a strongly reddish colour, brightest at the top” (Ibid.) which could be consistent with prolonged exposure to heat.

The animal figurines from Petsophas are “by far the most frequent” (Myres, 1903: 376) and can be sub-divided into the large figurines of oxen, which are preserved only in fragments, and a wide range of species represented in miniature (3-7cm). Of the large figurines of oxen, Myres found only horns and legs (with one or two examples of hindquarters) (Ibid.) – a fact which he attributes to the periodic raking and purging of the site, a process which he sees as explaining the overall fragmentary nature of the deposit. Myres states that a “rubbish-heap” of the bodies of the figurines was located by Bosanquet below the rocks immediately to the north of the site (Ibid. 377). However, we must acknowledge that it is equally possible that the fragmentation occurred before the deposition of the figurines as part of the ritual process (see, for example, Chapman 2000).

Beyond this limited stratigraphy, the majority of Myres’ excavation report focusses on the massive number of figurines which he found at Petsophas. These figurines, as is typical of the peak sanctuary deposits, can be classified as human and non-human. However they are much more numerous at Petsophas than at other peaks: despite Myres’ limited report, Betancourt tells us that they were of “some thousands.” The male figurines, which were more numerous than their female counterparts, are of the usual Minoan type – the gesture being reminiscent of the Palaikastro Kouros - that is with the fists clenched upon the chest. However, the female figurines are somewhat unusual, in respect to their headdresses in particular. Myres’ Plate XI shows that several of the female figurines wear round hats that frame the head (Moss, 2005: 103 describes the effect as “halolike”). Also one figure wears a large curving head-dress,

By contrast, the miniature figurines were of a number of species. Oxen were the most common, but agrimi, goats, rams, swine, dogs, hares, tortoises and a possible weasel-

56 Despite Moss’ claims to the contrary (2005: 106), votive limbs are not “common to all peak sanctuaries”. 57 For a discussion of the cultic possibilities of these limbs see Chapter Three: 78.

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like creature were attested;58 birds also occurred, but more rarely. This is one of the most extensive ranges of animal figurines attested at any Minoan site, incorporating both domestic and wild animals. Myres, largely influenced by the works and theories of his time – such as Frazer’s Golden Bough, saw the figurines of domestic animals as a propitiatory pseudo-sacrifice. However, he was at a loss to explain the dedication of “noxious” wild animals. Petsophas also exhibited a large number of clay balls or pellets, several of which show evidence of burning (Myres, 1903: 379), and I would agree with speculations that these are personal votives deliberately deposited. In addition to the enormous number of these votives of the various types outlined above, a number of pottery vessels were excavated including conical cups, dishes, bowls, miniature jugs and bowls (Ibid. 378). Moss (2005: 103), in her catalogue entry for Petsophas, reports cooking ware, as well as finer cups and bowls, as being found at the site. However, she gives no source for this information; Myres certainly does not report these wares. Myres also reports no bone or other faunal remains from Petsophas; one would assume he might have given his level of detail in other areas of his report. It was assumed in the past that the charcoal in the black stratum was derived from a substantial sacrificial bonfire: Rutkowski mentions the use of a “fire altar” in several of his publications (for example; Rutkowski, 1988: 75 and 1991: 53). However, the lack of reports of faunal remains from this level, or indeed elsewhere on the site, would seem to preclude this. Rutkowski is too sweeping in his assumption of a coherent, Cretan-wide ritual format for the peaks, and the generalisation is especially noticeable in his treatment of the “sacral aspects.” In short, while Petsophas is one of the major peak sanctuaries, resplendent with the figurines and other forms of votive, it is lacking in the key indicator of sacrificial ritual. It is interesting that such a major site is seemingly not one where sacrifice took place.

58 In the Late Minoan levels at Knossos the remains of beech-marten have been found (Wilkens, 2003: 86) and it would seem likely that this weasel-like creature is most likely a marten.

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swollen leg. It cannot be explained by a lack of skill on the part of the craftsman as the other leg is modelled in a most naturalistic fashion. In addition to this figurine there was a terracotta plaque with an incised representation of a foot, and several examples of “foot-plaques” – terracotta bases with pairs of three-dimensional feet upon them. While these latter objects may be a symbolic representation of the ‘pilgrimage’ or journey of the worshipper to the site as with the “tiny shoes” which were found in the more recent excavations (Chryssoulaki, 2001: 62). This is plausible given the few examples from Traostalos of body parts other than feet, it is nevertheless inviting to view them as a part of a healing ritual or cult, although as Chryssoulaki (2001: 59) points out that the sick might have struggled to reach the majority of peaks, especially so in the case of Traostalos.61

TRAOSTALOS Location: Traostalos is located at the actual summit of a very prominent, although not particularly high, mountain in eastern Crete, at 515m above sea-level. It is roughly 3.5m north of the palace at Zakros. Site Type: Peak sanctuary. History: The finds date the site’s period of use to Middle Minoan, but not beyond MM III (Peatfield, 1990: 127). “The quality of the early excavations is low” (Kyriakidis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: Appendix 1: 21) with little detail and little published material. However, more detailed excavations were performed by Chryssoulaki in 1995. Discussion: Faure’s initial impression of the site was that it was made up of several areas separated by dry stone walls. However, the more recent study by Chryssoulaki divides the site into a summit plateau and an eastern plateau with several “edifices” on the site (Chryssoulaki 2001). The summit plateau is rectangular in shape (20 x 12m) with a sheer cliff on its western side. There was a greater concentration of finds in its south-western corner, which may indicate a greater amount of activity centred on that spot (Kyriakidis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: Appendix 1: 21) (Fig. 35).

Traostalos is also significant as it exhibits massive evidence for the use of fire. On the main plateau, the south-western corner was dominated by a thick layer of ash and greasy soil. There were several other areas on the summit plateau that exhibit burning, but these are isolated and indicate hearths or small fires rather than huge bonfires or the conflagration across the entire site. These fires are accompanied by more than 20 cooking vessels, as well as a wide range of drinking and table ware. This may suggest the cooking and serving of food along the lines of the ‘ritual feasting’ hypothesis which has come into vogue in the last twenty years of Minoan study.

The eastern plateau is slightly lower than the summit plateau but also exhibits a large concentration of finds, possibly owing to the many natural lateral fissures there. As mentioned earlier, these natural clefts are seen as a typical feature of the peak sanctuaries.59 Certainly the ‘Chasm’ at Juktas (q.v.) was a deposit site for many of the finds at that peak. The eastern plateau of Traostalos is similar to the summit plateau in the fact that the finds diminish in quantity from the west to the east.

Certainly Traostalos does have bone remains, but as is typical the details are frustratingly vague. Faure’s initial survey of the site in 1962 reports that one of his “drystone wall’-enclosed areas to the east of the site, measuring 3.80 x 2.45m, was full of ashes and shells (Faure, 1963: 495), but fails to discuss it further. Similarly, with his study of Davaras’ notebooks, the most that Kyriakidis can say about the bone remains is that there were enough for several meals, and that some of the bones and shells were burnt (Kyriakidis, Unpub. Ph.D.thesis: Appendix 1: 23). However, neither the precise find-spot, nor species, nor degree of burning is reported. As such the evidence pertaining to sacrificial ritual at Traostalos is fundamentally compromised. Moreover, I believe that Kyriakidis’ claim is based on a misunderstanding of Chryssoulaki’s notes as she explicitly states: “Very few bones were found amongst the material from the bonfire. Their numbers, while conceivably representing blood sacrifices, do not reach the quantity one would expect as the remains of meals” (Chryssoulaki, 2001: 63 [my italics]).

The finds are typical of the majority of the peak sanctuaries, the primary form of artefact being the terracotta figurine, though there were several examples in bronze. The figurines of domestic animals, especially sheep and cattle, are consistent with many sites, although an example of a terracotta fish (HM 16494) is more atypical, especially due to its design which suggests that it could have served as a rhyton.60 The human figurines again seem to be those of adorants or supplicants rather than deities, and in their gestures they are very similar to those of Petsophas. Similarly, there are a number of votive limbs found at Traostalos – again as at Petsophas – which are suggestive of some form of healing ritual or request for healing (Moss, 2005: 109). Although this may be somewhat influenced by archaeological knowledge of later Classical ritual practices, there are certainly other finds from Traostalos that are suggestive that healing was a primary ritual concern at the site. One female figurine (HM 16443) is shown seated with what is undoubtedly a

The votive figurines are seemingly the standard mode of devotion at Traostalos, with the animal figurines being of much larger numbers. Some of these figurines also show evidence of burning, but the source of this is unclear. It has been speculated that the figurines were deliberately cast into the fire, but equally the burning could be accidental, as by no means do the majority of the

59

See p. 31. There was also a fragmentary model of boat found at Traostalos (Jones, 1999: 53; Chrysoulaki, 1999-2000: 145, in Arch. Reports), perhaps strengthening some form of maritime connection. 60

61

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On access to the peaks see Peatfield, 1983: 275.

figurines exhibit traces of fire which one would expect if their immolation were a common ritual act. Non-blood offerings may also have been a feature of the cult practice at Traostalos. This is suggested by the stone discs which may have served as platters for the offerings (Chryssoulaki, 2001: 62). A similar class of object was found at Anemospilia (q.v.) and were seen as having been used for the same purpose. In conclusion, Traostalos is another frustrating example of a Minoan site where insufficient data and incomplete publication have compromised the evidence pertaining to sacrifice to a degree that renders it vague in the extreme. However, on the evidence available, it seems better to err on the side of caution and suggest that sacrificial rituals were not a feature of the cult at Traostalos.

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should be noted that an offering table inscribed with Linear A, dating to LM I, was found at the site (Jones, 1999: 68), along with two miniature bronze knives. While it may be that the table was a dedication at the site, it is more plausible to envisage its use in offering rituals at the site.

VRYSINAS Location: Vrysinas is situated some 858m above sealevel, near the village of Rousopiti (Rutkowski, 1988: 90), in western Crete near Rethymnon. Site Type: Peak sanctuary.

Moss (2005), building on the work of Faure, sees the cult practice at Vrysinas (as well as the other peak sanctuaries) as revolving around special events – in the case of Vrysinas sunrises, two per year, where the sun can be seen to rise between the two ‘horns’ of Mt. Ida. However, I believe that the peaks were constant sites of cultic activity, albeit with ‘special’ dates pertinent to individual sanctuaries.64

History: The site began to be used for ritual purposes from MM I onwards and its use continued into LM I. However, the presence of finds from the Geometric, Archaic and Hellenistic periods are suggestive that Vrysinas, like other sites such as Kato Syme (q.v.), came back into use as cult locations in the post-Minoan period. The site was excavated by Davaras in 1972-1973, but is not fully published.

However, in relation to sacrificial rituals the lack of faunal remains, albeit from an incomplete excavation, is suggestive that the sacrifice of animals was not a feature of the cult practice at Vrysinas.

Discussion: Little can be said about the spatial organisation of the Vrysinas site as much of the original Minoan sacred area has been destroyed by modern building activity. However, the finds that have survived clearly indicate a cult location. Tzachili’s (2003) quantitative analysis of the pottery from Vrysinas reveals that “the overwhelming majority [of the vessels] are small, open vases, handleless conical cups and one-handled kyathia, accounting for about 80% of the total” (329). Pithoi accounted for only around 5% of the total sherd assemblage, a scarcity of storage vessels that Tzachili sees as “consistent with a phenomenon from the majority of peak sanctuaries” (330).62 The artefacts also include rhyta in the shape of bulls, also terracotta figurines of people, cattle, sheep, donkeys and birds (Moss, 2005: 113). In addition to the complete figurines there are reports of parts of the human body and animals (Rutkowski, 1988: 90-1). In the case of the human body parts, they are specifically modelled votive limbs – not part of complete figurines. The case is less clear in respect to the parts of the animal figurines. The destruction of much of the site complicates the matter even further, although it may be that Vrysinas contains further evidence for the deliberate fragmentation of cult artefacts.63 Most significantly there are fragments of ‘horns of consecration’ in association with bronze double-axes (Ibid. 90), making Vrysinas one of the few cult sites exhibiting both of these symbols. A noteworthy deposit at the site is a rocky depression near the modern chapel of Ayia Pneurna. This depression was filled with ashes, figurines and pottery sherds (Ibid.). This is testament to the use of fire at another Minoan cult site. However, once again no bones or faunal material are reported in association with this deposit which is suggestive that, in this case at least, fire and animal sacrifice cannot be directly associated. Yet the limited excavation possible at Vrysinas dictates that the possibility of sacrifice at the site cannot be excluded. It 62 This may be correct in terms of their frequency when compared to other vessel shapes. 63 See pp. 28-29 on the Temple Repositories.

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See Chapter Three: 88-92 for a full discussion of the peak cult.

EXTRA-URBAN SANCTUARIES This somewhat vague sub-heading refers to those sites which, while located outside of settlements, do not conform to either the peak sanctuary or cave site typologies.65 The sites discussed are very different to one another and, as such, add a degree of depth to this survey as it will allow us to investigate if sacrificial ritual existed as a cultic component across the entire breadth of Minoan religious expression. This depth results from the fact that both of the sites discussed are seemingly without parallel on Minoan Crete, as the current archaeological record stands. Moss (2005: 141) attributes this quality to their separation from the “religious hierarchy of the palaces”, thus implying that the Palaces dictated the norms for Minoan religion, and also that there was a monolithic “Minoan” religion. While they exhibit obvious differences from other categories of ritual sites on Crete, to explain these differences through their physical separation from the palaces seems ludicrous. If this is so, why should we not view Juktas, the mountain on which Anemospilia stands, as being outside the “religious hierarchy”, when in fact it is typically seen as being directly associated with the Palace of Knossos. Thus Moss has immediately preconceived ideas about Palatial religion being the norm and associates the other sites with this system. In actuality, there is sufficient disparity between the ritual sites (even within categories)66 to see all the cult sites as part of an overall scheme which is constant in its inconsistency. It is also interesting that if we followed Moss’ hypothesis we would be forced to conclude that sacrificial rituals were not the norm, as these sites – which she views as abnormal – exhibit some of the most explicit evidence for sacrificial rituals.

65 Some scholars, such as Moss (2005: 141), refer to these sites as rural sanctuaries. I have deliberately shied away from this terminology as it has certain implications of rusticness and a less-developed connotation, which is inappropriate for the sites discussed in this section. 66 See Chapter Three, in particular the sections on geographic variation, and that on ‘Minoan’ religion.

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the centre [room], where offerings were made to the deity” (Ibid. 274).

ANEMOSPILIA Location: The shrine of Anemospilia is located 400m above sea-level on Mt. Juktas, on the way up to the peak sanctuary, around two kilometres north-west of Archanes. The building itself faces north “to all the great centres of that area including Herakleion and Knossos” (Sakellarakis, 1997: 269).

However, it is the West Room in the shrine that has received the most attention, and this is due to the fabulous nature of the finds within it. The West Rom is perhaps the most compelling evidence from Minoan Crete for human sacrifice.69 This evidence took the form of three70 human skeletons: The first was found face down, lying diagonally in the south-west corner of the room, with its head facing toward the corner and its legs spread apart. The skeleton was that of an apparently healthy female, around 28 years old and 1.45m tall.

Site Type: Anemospilia is difficult to typologise but it falls under the description of ‘extramural built shrine’. History: The shrine, “a building of great significance” (Ibid. 271), was constructed in MM IIB. However, the building was relatively short-lived as it was destroyed in MM IIIA67:”There is no doubt that the building at Anemospilia was destroyed by an earthquake” (Ibid. 272) was the opinion of the excavators and this has become generally accepted.68

The second skeleton was found face-up along the room’s west wall. The right leg was taut at the time of death, while the left leg was raised in a right angle at the knee. The arm bones were well preserved and show that both arms were bent at the time of death. This skeleton was that of a healthy male aged around 37 years old and was 1.78m tall. He was clearly an important individual as he wore a silver and iron ring on the little finger of his left hand, and had an intricately carved sealstone on his left wrist (Ibid. 294-5).

Discussion: The building was a carefully built structure which has been described as a ‘tripartite shrine’ but this identification is perhaps misleading. It is a rectangular structure with three closed rooms of equal size to the south and a long corridor taking up the entire width of the building to the north. However, three further rooms may have existed to the north of the corridor but ground erosion has left only the “paltry remains of their foundation walls” (Ibid. 272).

The third skeleton is the individual that has prompted the hypothesis of human sacrifice to circulate so readily. Even though such theories were seen as highly controversial when they were initially proposed they have now become so firmly entrenched that non-Minoan specialists see them as completely accurate.71 This third individual was found lying, not on the floor, but upon a small built structure. He was not face-up or face-down but in a completely different position to the other bodies. The thighs were stretched out, pointing almost away from the body, but the calves were bent up to face the back in what appears a very unnatural position. The body lay on its right side, the head facing east, and the jaw clamped tightly shut. The excavators suggested that the position of the body may have resulted from its being bound (Ibid. 302), but this is highly speculative. However, the bones of this male, aged around 18 years, were not all found within a single layer (as the others were) but some were located deep inside the soft fill some centimetres thick.

The three rooms that survive in the structure appear to have distinct functions. The East Room, in the opinion of the excavators, was “reserved for bloodless sacrifices” (Ibid. 274). This room contained a “three-stepped altar” along the back wall, with some twenty-four vases placed on the steps. The altar compares well with one from the central court at the palace of Phaistos and is reminiscent of the structure on the long side of the Ayia Triada sarcophagus where offerings are made to the standing figure. The Central Room was absolutely full of pottery; large pithoi were set against the walls and the floor was covered in fragments of other vessels. A ‘pathway’ was left through the centre of the room leading to a natural rock plinth, or rough bench, at the rear of the room, in the vicinity of which were found two clay feet. These may have belonged to a xoanon (a wooden cult figure, occasionally embellished with not perishable aspects) (Ibid. 285). In front of this plinth there were two large vessels containing carbonised seeds which may have constituted an offering to the deity (as opposed to the storage of the contents). The excavators clearly adhered to this belief, stating that “all ritual acts were focussed on

These problems are usually glossed over, however, and due to his position upon a regular, rectangular, low-lying ‘altar’ structure and the presence of an incised bronze ‘spear head’, this individual is seen as a human sacrifice. It is probable that if this is the case it was in a moment of extreme urgency, most probably in relation to the supposed earthquake that destroyed the building. Thus, it 69 The only other case that exists, along with much discussion, is the Room of the Children’s Bones at Knossos. 70 A fourth skeleton was found in the antechamber, close to the doorway of the central room. It is associated with a large broken pottery vessel, possibly decorated with relief cattle. However, both the skeleton and the vessel were too damaged to allow for further identification. 71 For example, Hughes, D.D., 1991, Human Sacrifice in Ancient Greece, Routledge

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Some have argued for a later destruction date, but it clearly does not continue in LM I. 68 The shrine’s destruction was certainly sudden: fallen blocks of an otherwise sturdy structure, and pithoi in the east room were thrown into the centre of the chamber. Human agency has been discounted due to the lack of looting. Scholars also agree that the earthquakes of Minoan Crete were accompanied by conflagrations, and there is evidence of intense burning in all areas of Anemospilia.

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would appear on first inspection that we have evidence at Anemospilia for a major, unique cult practice with some of the most explicit evidence for sacrifice on Crete – albeit possibly one occurring in a moment of crisis.

Minoan archaeological record. Nevertheless, if he were a sacrifice then we must also assume that a structure with a religious quality would have been used as the site of his oblation; a known ritual complex. Anemospilia certainly fits this description. Even when we remove the questionable evidence for human sacrifice, the three surviving rooms exhibit features of a decidedly ritual or cultic quality, but the evidence pertaining to animal sacrifice comes from the corridor antechamber.

However, there are fundamental issues that cast doubt onto the accuracy of this depiction of a process of human sacrifice. The first problem involves the ‘altar’ itself: not only is it small, less than a square metre in surface area (0.63 x 0.76m), but it is incredibly close to the ground – in spite of a lack of scale in the published excavation photographs it can only be a matter of a few centimetres in height. If we compare this structure to representations and indeed other surviving examples of altars or offering table (such as that depicted on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus, or the example from the High Priest’s House at Knossos) we may see that it is utterly different. In my opinion, there appears to be some faulty logic at play here, where the body makes the structure an altar, and the ‘altar’ thus makes the body a sacrificial victim.72

Animal bones were found only in the west part of the antechamber (Sakellarakis, 1997: 274), but the numbers are vague (Moss claims there are only “few” [2005: 142]). They were analysed, however, and identified as belonging to pigs, goats and bulls, i.e. animals that are known from the assumed representations of animal sacrifices (Sakellarakis, 1997: 277) and also from levels at other sites where faunal remains occur. However, the skeletal elements are unpublished and, as a result, unknown – although we may assume that they were not crania or horn-cores as these elements would almost certainly be reported as they are so easily identifiable. Similarly, the fact that much of the site was damaged by conflagration73 means that it can not be ascertained if the bones were already burnt prior to the site’s destruction.74 It is also interesting to note that the animal bones were associated with, being found beside and above – but not beneath, two large clay discs. Similar discs were associated with the few bones reported from the ‘hearth site’ in the south-west corner of the summit terrace at Traostalos (q.v.).

The evidence of the differential burning of the bones of this body was also used by the excavators to designate him as a sacrificial victim. The bones on the right side of his body, i.e. the side that was in contact with the low plinth (‘altar’), were blackened; while those on the left side of the body, i.e. the uppermost, were chalky or ashen in hue. The excavators stated that this was the result of a massive exsanguination and pooling of blood around the bones on his right side, which caused them to blacken (Ibid. 303). This, however, is utterly without merit. The pooling of blood, even if it did take place, would not affect the colouration of the bones when exposed to fire. The difference in colouration was due to the position of the body and the differentiated access to oxygen during the fire (Moss, 2005: 142). The upper bones, in fact, are calcined due to exposure to more intense heat, and the lower bones are merely charred as they were insulated by the agglomeration of organs.

However, this is all largely circumstantial as Anemospilia exhibits no real evidence for repeated sacrificial processes in any of the surviving rooms. Nor is there evidence for the preparation of ritual meals or feasts as cooking ware is conspicuously absent from Anemospilia.

However, it should also be noted that Anemospilia is of much more significance to the discussion of sacrificial ritual beyond the question of human sacrifice. If the individual upon the plinth were a sacrifice, then we may reasonably assume that he was one of an extreme nature – certainly not the norm. This may be inferred not only from the utter lack of iconographic representations of human sacrifice, but also the fact that there are no other established occurrences of human sacrifice attested in the

In all honesty, it is difficult to see clearly what is going on here at this cult complex. Indeed, the excavators have claimed that we may never know what was really happening (Sakellarakis and Sapouna-Sakellarakis, 1981: 205). However, it is clear that we do have a cult complex where offerings were made, the extensive pottery deposits in the east and central rooms, plus the pithoi containing grain and cereals attest to this process. But if it were a typical Minoan cult complex then the absence of figurines and other forms of votive is confusing. In my opinion, Anemospilia was not a site of actual repeated animal sacrifice. The small size of the ‘altar’, the lack of weaponry suitable for ritualised slaughter and dismemberment, the few animal bones, all suggest that it was more of a site of cultic deposits than anything else. Its proximity to the Juktas peak sanctuary would seem to suggest a possible connection between the two.

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Moreover, it is apparent – due to the massive cranial damage that the third skeleton suffered – that the most likely cause of death was the collapse of the building itself; that is to say that all four individuals perished concurrently. In the absence of more concrete data, this is the most prosaic and soundest conclusion.

A similar situation has been noted in relation to Geometric and Classical altars based on the placement of votives: “Often these somewhat dubious constructions are interpreted as altars on account of the figurines found in connection with them, or one suggests that possibility” (Alroth, 1988: 201).

Cf. Page 43 n.68. Certainly deposits of burned bones were stored inside buildings in the Aegean world. An obvious example is the deposit of bones kept in Room 7 of the Archives complex in the ‘Palace of Nestor’ at Pylos (see Stocker and Davis, 2004: 174-195). 74

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which became the most popular cup type at Kato Syme in LM IIIB (Watrous, 1996: 66-7). The kylikes were, in most cases, found in association with animal figurines which has reinforced the cult association of these vessels. Also, once again, huge numbers – more than five hundred – of stone libation tables have been found around the site, ranging in size from 4cm to 35cm in diameter (Lebessi and Muhly, 1987: 110-111). One item of cult paraphernalia that is curiously uncommon at Kato Syme is the human votive figurine, indeed this is one feature that makes this site different to the peak sanctuaries.

KATO SYME Location: Towards the south east of the island, Kato Syme is situated on a high (1200m above sea-level) inclining plateau or “natural amphitheatre” (Bergquist, 1988: 23), on the southern face of Mt. Dikte, and is associated with a large natural spring. The site does not seem to be connected with any particular settlement. Site Type: A “sacred enclosure” with a spring. Kato Syme seems to be a unique site in the Cretan cultural milieu, as despite the height of its location it is clearly not a peak sanctuary given the lack of rock terraces and an entirely different layout. Kato Syme may have been a regional or island-wide cult centre (Jones, 1999: 20).

Despite the presence of Linear A inscriptions on some of the offering tables, the nature of the Bronze Age finds from Kato Syme is essentially enigmatic. They do, however, attest to the prevalence of libations and liquid offerings, as opposed to any other cult practice, in the ritual processes that took place here. Yet, Kato Syme also provides some of the most striking evidence for the performance of sacrificial rituals in Minoan Crete.

History: The site was used for open-air cult from MM II until the fifth century B.C (Jones, 1999: 89). After this cult activity took place in roofed structures until the third century A.D. The evidence suggests that the sanctuary was dedicated to the worship of Hermes by the eighth century B.C. along with the worship of Aphrodite. The site was excavated under the direction of Angeliki Lebessi from 1972 to 1998, and the work on the publication of the material continues to date.

Beyond all else the Minoan levels at Kato Syme are characterised by extensive layers of black, carbonised material and ‘fatty earth’. These black strata have yielded abundant faunal remains, in context with pottery and carbonised wood (Lebessi and Muhly, 1990: 325). The remains of decayed skulls and horns have also been found in these deposits – associated with the podium – which seems to indicate the burning and deposition of animals, or parts thereof, a practice which is apparently corroborated by the greasy consistency of the ‘sacrificial stratum’ that has been observed in several areas (Ibid. 328). The association of large numbers of fragmentary cooking vessels with the animal remains is perhaps suggestive of the human consumption of at least part of the animal. This, combined with the fact that none of the bone is calcined – the result of being burned with the flesh already removed – is evidence that the ritual practice involving the meat of animals that took place at Kato Syme is starkly different from the Classical θυσία sacrifice that has served as a model for the Minoan rite for so long.

Discussion: Kato Syme is one of the most interesting sites on Crete for the study of the use of cultic space, especially during the Minoan period. Covering an area of several hundred square metres, the site underwent a number of architectural changes between the Middle and Late Minoan periods (Fig. 36). The site was originally centred around the spring with Building V as the earliest structure on the site. This structure was then incorporated into the much larger Building U, a complex of some 20 rooms which was partially demolished by a rockslide in MM IIIB / LM IA (Catling, 1979: 38). Following this a huge monumental podium seems to have become the ritual focus of the site. Measuring some 12.6 x 7m with a 0.7m high retaining wall with an outer facing, it seems to have formed an immense raised dais of around 90 square metres (Bergquist, 1988: 25). This structure, in the north of the site, is paralleled in its other areas. Excavations in the south-west of the site have uncovered the corresponding corner of an encircling peribolos wall, accompanied by a processional road complete with a drain. These structures are clearly indicative of the increased importance of Syme during the Neo-Palatial period which warranted such an extensive building programme. Building S, an LM II / IIIA structure confirms this as, in its function as a storehouse or repository for offerings and ritual paraphernalia, it reinforces the increased traffic of a cult nature at Kato Syme. This traffic clearly did not abate in subsequent periods as it was necessary to construct two further buildings, R and Q, in LM IIIB and IIIC respectively.

It would seem clear that a ritual process involving fire and animals (or their parts) took place here. But the specifics are still not obvious. We may dismiss holocaust, not only because of the lack of calcinations on the bone, but also due to absence of articulated skeletons. In actuality, on the evidence published thus far, it primarily consists of the skulls and horns of cattle, sheep and agrimi that have been found. None of this material is particularly burned (Ibid. 326) which again reinforces the absence of burnt sacrifices at Kato Syme. I believe that the predominance of the cranial skeletal elements in the deposit results from the deliberate post-ritual deposition of these remains rather than their being debris produced by the ritual process itself. Many of the objects appear to have been deliberately left in the remnants of the fire in this manner, possibly in order to render them useless from then on; in other words to render them sacred by destroying their functional capabilities. The deliberate

The artefacts found at Kato Syme reinforce the cult associations of the site. While some of the rooms in Building U seem to have been used for the preparation of food (cult meals?), most of the remaining structures were filled with ritual vessels – jars, cups, and the kylikes 45

breaking of objects to release their potential ritual power (one interpretation of the process of fragmentation) has been treated as a universal idea (Hubert and Mauss, 1964: 13), so it possible to ascribe this to a Minoan context, even if only to limit it to the deliberate leaving of objects as personal votives. However, in the case of the cranial bone remains it has been speculated that “the deity’s portion, represented by the victim’s head, was deposited in the dying fire” (Lebessi and Muhly, 1990: 328). This hypothesis is much influenced by the identification and connection of the ‘horns of consecration’ symbol with the bucranium, as it is unclear if the heads were actually seen as the deity’s portion. Also this theory presupposes that the ritual practice was inherently a class of sacrifice rather than the ceremonial communal feasts proposed by some scholars. Equally as possible is the setting up of these skulls as commemorative symbols for the rites performed here, rather than their being the deity’s portion of the sacrifice. To conclude, Kato Syme contains some of the most compelling, and well documented, evidence to suggest that sacrificial ritual was practised in Minoan Crete. Indeed it is difficult to think of seriously viable alternative theories to explain the feature found at the site.75 The only feature absent from the site that might have bearing upon this question is a fixed altar structure. Many scholars have sought to identify altar structures at sites in order to justify their belief in the existence of a Minoan sacrificial practice. Nilsson openly stated that “The cult needs an altar” (MMR: 117), and in more recent treatises Marinatos and Gesell have similarly restated the importance of the altar. However, no one has proposed the necessity for an altar in relation to the evidence from Kato Syme. If sacrifice requires an altar, then the remains here must result from some other ritual process. However, if sacrifice does not require an altar then much of the focus of previous scholarship has been misdirected.

75 The only real possibility may be ritualised feasting. See Chapter Three: 93-95 for a discussion of this alternative.

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additions to the natural cave environment, while “furniture” included storage vessels, offering tables and ‘horns of consecration’. Tyree also stressed the importance of the presence of votive objects – figurines, double-axes, lamps and ritual vessels (those that were of materials that render them unsuitable for everyday use).

CAVE SANCTUARIES Crete’s landscape is one dominated by hills and mountains containing numerous caves of varying conspicuousness. The mountains, as a result of their limestone composition, have been eroded over millennia to produce hundreds of caves across the island. It is not surprising that the caves were utilised by the inhabitants of Crete as shelters during the Neolithic and as burial sites.76 However, the use of caves for secular or practical purposes does not automatically entail that caves would be used for cult purposes as well.

Thus, the sites in this section of the catalogue adhere to these criteria, but with an added focus in relation to archaeological traces of possible sacrificial rituals as outlined in the general introduction.

That being said, numerous cultures have utilised caves as ritual sites. Caves have exerted an influence over our collective subconscious for much of humanity’s past. One only has to take a cursory glance at the archaeological record to confirm this fact. From the Palaeolithic cave art in the deep grottoes of Lascaux, to the fact that spelunking and potholing remain popular pastimes today reinforces the fact that the subterranean world exerts a fascination over us. Given this long history we should not be surprised to find that cult caves are common in many cultures: in Meso-America, the Aztecs saw caves as the entrance to the Underworld; early Buddhists worshipped in caves and their chaityahalls were often constructed within them; likewise caves play a prominent role in Greek mythology. Rutkowski clearly adheres to the belief that the individual cave itself was the motivating force in the establishment of the cult within it. That is to say the physical characteristics of the cave were of great significance: “…the Minoans were awed by the mysterious appearance of the interior, by the fantastic shapes of the stalagmites and stalactites, and by the miraculous properties of the pure water which collected in the hollows in the rock” (Rutkowski, 1986: 47). While this may be somewhat sweeping and conjectural it is true to say that by no means were all the Cretan caves utilised as cult sites, and so there must have been at least one significant factor which prompted the cult foundations. However, to attempt to identify these factors, without primary sources, would be purely speculative. Therefore, in this study, the foundation of the cult is of limited importance, it is more the established cult practice which is of primary concern, and if that practice involved a sacrificial ritual. As such, the criteria by which we identify a cave cult site are of vital importance. Tyree’s study of the Cretan sacred caves still remains the benchmark study of these sites. She realised that the problems associated with the cave sites – limited excavation, incomplete publication, mixed stratigraphy which led to somewhat haphazard dating (Tyree, 1974: 4-6) – required the use of specific criteria to identify the cult site. Tyree did this through a careful analysis of “architecture” and “furniture” (Ibid. 6). “Architecture” referred to altars, paving, partitions and other synthetic 76 For example, the cave of Trapeza was used as a burial site between EM III and MM I.

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there is little else to suggest the practice of cult at this location. As observed above, the main artefacts associated with Minoan cult are absent, but beyond this the cave itself is largely unsuitable for any real activity due to its very small size. In his original excavation report, Hazzidakis claimed the cave was only c.5m long, with a maximum width of only 2m. This is somewhat misleading as this area is actually only an entrance chamber to the main grotto, which measures some 30m x 18m. Hazzidakis believed the entrance chamber to be the entire extent of the cave as the passage to the larger chamber was blocked by fallen rocks, which were not cleared until Marinatos excavated in the 1960s (Fig. 37). However, the height of the cave is the main barrier to its use as a cult site. In both chambers the maximum height does not exceed 1m, and the original excavators reported having to lower the floor level in the entrance chamber in places just to be able to dig (Hazzidakis, 1913: 38).

ARKALOCHORI Location: The cave is on the west slope of a hill, Prophetis Elias, near the village of Arkalochori. Site Type: Cave – generally believed to be a sanctuary or cult establishment. History: The presence of some EM pottery – in fact only one vessel of EM I Pyrgos ware – is suggestive of the possible early use of the cave despite some recent claims to the contrary.77 Although as we are only dealing with a single extant vessel, this may have been an anomaly dedicated after the period in which it was made had come to an end. The majority of the evidence, however, suggests a late foundation as it comes from the Second Palace Period, i.e. after MM III B / LM I but before LM II. It is clear that this period was the floruit for Arkalochori as it seems to have fallen out of use during the LM III phases, as there is barely a scatter of pottery present from these periods. However, there are significant problems with this site as it was much robbed (Hazzidakis, 1913: 37) and is incompletely published: for example, Sp. Marinatos excavated the cave but never produced a full report, only some brief articles.

Therefore, if we assume that cult did not take place at Arkalochori, then we must ask into what type of site it may be categorised. Sp. Marinatos has suggested that the site may have been used as a workshop for the production of fine metal articles. However, there is no evidence to suggest that Arkalochori was used in such a manner. The lack of evidence for burning, the low numbers of functional metal-working tools, and the absence of slag and other by-products, not to mention the small size of the cave, means that this theory is without merit.

Discussion: Arkalochori has been the subject of much discussion among Aegean specialists, primarily regarding the categorisation of the site. Generally the cave of Arkalochori has been identified as a cult location, and usually associated with a “special cult” (Dickinson, 1994a: 278). This is due to the unique nature of the material. Massive amounts of metal finds are reported, the majority being weapons and tools: Nilsson reports dozens of double-axes, more than 25 of gold and 7 of silver (MMR: 61). Most of these were in miniature, but there were some larger examples up to 70cm wide. Fragments of the wooden shafts, which originally supported some of the blades, were also found here and seem to have been made of fir or cedar (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 25). Type A sword blades over 90 cm long were also found in the cave. These were notable as they were not perforated at the shoulders for rivets, and as such it seems that they were never mounted into handles. This is similar to many other of the blades from the cave, which were thin and had no tangs, as such they could not have been used as a practical weapon.

Arkalochori is most similar to hoard sites, which are common over much of Bronze Age Europe. If we take this as an explanation for the cave deposit it accounts for not only the small size of the cave, but also the limited nature of the finds. I believe that this is the most plausible explanation as it means that we do not have the complication of a cult whose sole ritual practice was the votive deposition of weapons. It may be that the hoard was of a number of ritual double-axes and associated weapons, but this does not make Arkalochori in itself a cult site. Indeed it is incongruous to ascribe a cult context to a site merely due to the presence of the double-axe alone, rather it is the appearance of the axe in an overtly ritual context that merits a ritualistic quality be attached to the axe. A similar interpretation has been applied to Arkalochori most recently by Rethemiotakis (2002): “Though the character of its content is undeniably religious, the cave does not seem to be a cult site” (Ibid. 64). He goes on to describe the contents of the cave as “a single, large shipment of sacred metal” (Ibid. 65) which were deliberately hidden in the cave “in order to protect them from looting” (Ibid.). Rethemiotakis links this occurrence to the “serious crisis which burst upon Pediada in the period between MM III and LM I” (Ibid.), citing the abandonment of the peak sanctuaries at Sklaverochori and Kephala, as well as the upheavals at Galatas and Kastelli. Thus, according to Rethemiotakis, the Arkalochori deposit may be seen as a ‘crisis hoard’, perhaps by implication suggesting that some form of

However, the other types of artefact that are seen as typical of the various Minoan cult sites are entirely absent from Arkalochori. Figurines, cult vases, libation tables, ash and animal bones are all entirely unreported (Hazzidakis, 1913: passim). The absence of these remains means that if cult practice did take place at this cave, then it once again of a singular character. In actuality, there is considerable evidence to suggest that Arkalochori was not a cult site, and this is the assessment which I believe to be correct. Aside from the presence of a supposed cult symbol, in the form of the double-axe, 77

For example, Moss (2005: 117).

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‘iconoclastic fury’ took place requiring the safeguarding of this “sacred metal.” Even if this is not the case, the destructions and abandonment of the sites in this region at this time indicate the turbulent nature of the MM III – LM I boundary.

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The most significant deposit pertaining to sacrifice comes from Chamber II. This comes in the form of a burnt, greasy layer containing charcoal and bones, which are sometimes burnt. Several bucrania and numerous clay lamps were found in association with this layer (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 28). The walls of the cave in this area were also “sooty” (Ibid.), attesting to the actual use of fire within the cave itself, as opposed to the deposition of the remains here. Sakellarakis believes that this deposit is a clear indication of the practice of sacrifice (Sakellarakis, 1988: 210-211). As far as this statement goes, I agree absolutely. However, there is a key aspect regarding the nature of this deposit that is not made explicitly in the majority of the sources: that it is a ‘mixed deposit’, that is to say, one containing evidence from several periods. Regarding this layer of ash and charcoal, and its associated finds, Rutkowski attaches the phrase “dating from later times than the Minoan period” (Rutkowski, 1986: 54). Then it is by no means clear that any of this deposit can be associated with Minoan cult – although the possibility that part of it may be must be acknowledged. Yet it is true to say that the nature of the deposit is more reminiscent of the Classical θυσία rite than any other cult practice. However, this “mixed” layer is the primary motivation for theories regarding the continuation of cult practice at the cave. For example, Sakellarakis believes that by the LM III period the cult was dedicated to Cretan Zeus, as a successor to a Minoan vegetation deity 79(1988 passim). However, given the lack of a firm terminus post quem for the deposit makes tracing its origins somewhat haphazard.

THE IDAEAN CAVE Location: The Idaean Cave is situated in the Ida or Psiloritis mountains, at an altitude of 1500m. It lies approximately 100m above the small upland plain of Nida (Prent, 2005: 158). Site Type: Cave Sanctuary. History: In 1591, the Italian botanist Casabona identified the Idaean Cave with the famous cave of Zeus Kretagenes – a deity mentioned in several Classical sources.78 However, the history of the use of the cave extends far further back than the Classical period. Finds range from the Late Neolithic period to the fifth century A.D. It is a major site and one of continuing (although most probably neither constant nor unchanging) ritual significance. Cult practice began in MM III / LM I and continued uninterrupted into the late Roman era. The first archaeological excavations were undertaken in 1885, by Halbher and Aerakis. Faure excavated in 1955, and Sp. Marinatos in 1956. Sakellarakis began the first systematic, large-scale excavations in 1982. Discussion: Much has been written about the Idaean Cave, largely about the Classical cult. It has been assumed that the Minoan cult was a direct antecedent and that the subject of the cult was consistent (Sakellarakis 1988). However, I feel that this is too presumptive as the mode of worship in the cave does seem to have altered during the long period of its use. The Idaean Cave is large, containing stalagmites and stalactites, and has a fairly complicated arrangement (Fig. 38). The wide entrance to the cave, some 25m wide and 16m high, faces east and is clearly visible. The major chamber is some 36m x 34m x 17m high, slopes downwards, and contains two recesses, one in the north and one in the south (26m x 14m x 9.5m high and 14m x 13m x 6m high respectively). There is also an upper chamber which opens from the west wall of the cave, 8.5m above the floor, which requires a ladder to reach (Prent, 2005: 159). In front of the entrance to the cave is an open area with a large rock-cut altar (c.4.9m x 2.1m x 0.9m high) of uncertain date.

In relation to other forms of ritual artefact from the Minoan period, the Idaean Cave does contain them, but not in tremendous numbers: a single bronze double-axe (Moss, 2005: 124; Jones, 1999: 73), stone offering tables (Ibid.), a single stone kernos (Ibid.), and a number of non-functional bronze daggers or swords dating from early LM I (Ibid.). Thus, significantly, Ida – though regarded as a major cult site – does not exhibit an overwhelming quantity of cult paraphernalia, certainly not to rival Psychro (q.v.), which remains the most impressive Minoan cult cave. As a final point regarding the finds from Ida, reference must be made to the LBA rock crystal lentoid seal (HM 24) which has caused much speculation (Fig. 39). This seal is usually thought to depict a ritual scene: certainly it contains several objects (or symbols) which are typically associated with Minoan cult. Obviously there is the ‘horns of consecration’ with a bough (apparently) set between the uprights, also the incurved ‘altar’ which the horns sit upon (although the structure may simply be a stand), and a large triton shell into which the figure appears to be blowing. However, it should be noted that only one of these objects was found at Ida – the ‘horns of consecration’ – and this is from a period much later than the seal itself. Thus if it is a cult scene depicted on the

It appears that during the LN-EM periods the cave was used as a dwelling, but only seasonally as it is blocked off by snow during the winter months (Ibid.). However, the significance of the cave as a cult site peaks around LM I, which may be considered the Minoan acme of the site, marked by an increase in finds and the appearance of bronze animal and anthropomorphic figurines (Ibid. 159-160). To the LM II periods belongs a large group of pottery and figurines, predominantly animals. There are also larger wheel-made terracotta animal figurines, and a terracotta ‘horns of consecration’ but this probably dates to the LM IIIC-Subminoan periods (Ibid.).

78

79 Doubtless the notion of a vegetation deity was inspired by the seasonal access to the cave and the return of the fecundity of Spring which resulted from the warming of the weather.

For example, Callimachus’ Hymn to Zeus 6.

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seal, then it appears to be one for which there is no real corresponding evidence to suggest that it took place in the Idaean Cave. To conclude, therefore, Ida does exhibit a large amount of evidence that points toward the practice of sacrificial rituals. For a site, at least in relation to others from Minoan Crete, it contains a large amount of faunal material. However, unfortunately, the majority of this material comes from layers of indeterminate date (Jones, 1999: 73). Even the bones of sheep and pigs from the upper chamber (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 29) cannot be definitely ascribed to a Minoan context given the massively long period of cultic use that followed the Minoan acme. Moreover, even if some of this faunal material could be ascribed to the Minoan period it does not automatically follow that it derived from sacrificial rituals as so much of the deposit has been affected by the later activity in the cave. Thus, it is unfortunate that in the case of Ida it is the archaeology itself, rather than a lack of evidence or poor excavation, that leaves the matter of Minoan sacrifice at the Idaean Cave unresolved.

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occasional use of the cave by cattle-stealers and refugees” (Dawkins and Laistner, 1913: 10). The quantity and condition of the bones were not recorded well and, as a result, it is not clear if they are the result of a Minoan ritual process or if they are the remains of the earlier habitation phases. These are presumably the same faunal remains which Taramelli reported in his first excavation (Taramelli, 1902: 447), and to which Watrous draws attention. While some recent work on the Kamares deposit has once again suggested that these remains may in fact be ancient (Van de Moortel, 2006: 76), the issue is far from settled. Moreover, as the location of the bucranium is currently unknown and the other bones (now at the Herakleion Museum) have never been analysed (Ibid.), it would appear that the matter will not be soon resolved. Therefore, I believe that, for the purposes of this study, the opinion of Dawkins and Laistner – the last archaeologists to see the remains in context – must prevail.

KAMARES CAVE Location: The Kamares Cave is located high on the southern face of Mount Ida, some 1524 m above sealevel, and looks out over Phaistos and the Western Mesara plain. Site Type: A large cave sanctuary with two chambers, one very large and the other very small. There is no terrace in front of the entrance (Dawkins and Laistner, 1913: 7) (Fig. 40). History: The cave’s history began in the Neolithic period when it served as a seasonal occupation site and continued as such into EM I. However, most of the pottery comes from the Middle Minoan period, pointing toward a peak of activity in MM IA-MM IB (Van de Moortel, 2006: 81). Of course, Kamares is most famous for the ‘Kamares style’ pottery, decorated with painted patterns in a polychrome light-on-dark style, which was a highlight of the First Palace Period (Betancourt, 1985: 95-102). However, this feature of the deposit should not overshadow the other finds from the cave that are indicative of cult activity.

Beyond this, the evidence for ritual activity is much the same as that of other cave sites: palatial quality vases, relief ware decorated with bucrania, many storage jars for food, tools, and some (3) animal figurines (Dawkins and Laistner, 1913: 26-30). However, there are no examples of some other forms of ritual paraphernalia that are found in some caves, Psychro (q.v.) for example: human figurines, model weapons, jewellery, personal possessions (toilet articles), stone libation tables are all absent (although recent work has shown that there are large numbers of Protopalatial tripod cooking vessels were present at the cave [Vande Moortel, 2006: 84], in direct contrast to what had been previously believed), and, significantly, there is no built altar structure. It is also unusual, given the propensity of pottery found at the site, that cups are very under-represented in the deposit. Van de Moortel’s study, encompassing both the material stored at the Herakleion and the majority of the material that was left at Dawkins and Laistner’s excavation camp, reveals that the proportion of cups to pouring vessels is 1:11. Such a ratio is very low, especially when one considers the prevalence of the conical cup not only at locations such as the Mesara tombs, but also the Psychro cave.

Discussion: The physical characteristics of the cave make it suitable for large-scale activity – a wide entrance (some 30m), combined with a large grotto and secondary niche-like chamber free of obstacles and concretions, except in the rear corners of the large chamber where there are boulders, provide an area for the gathering of people and the performance of rites. Daylight penetrates to the back wall of the cave providing ample illumination (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 32). The majority of the Middle Minoan pottery was found among the boulders in the back left of the cave. This phenomenon of depositing items in crevices or cracks seems to be the norm for the Minoan votive system (at least in respect to the caves). Certainly it occurs at Psychro (q.v.), and we may observe a similar process at the ‘Chasm’ at Juktas (q.v.). We may speculate that this was a deliberate process rather than the result of cleaning (more probably in the caves than in the peak sanctuaries), perhaps in an effort to have the personal votive object become part of the very fabric of the cult location.

However, while Kamares may have been a cult site, which does seem probable, it is by no means clear that a form of sacrificial ritual took place. The layer of black earth and animal bones is not reported in enough detail to allow us to judge firmly if it as belonging to the period of cult use of the cave. Yet whatever the ritual processes at Kamares were, I would suggest that they were in the form of a seasonal celebration since the cave can only be accessed during the summer months, as for the rest of the year it is blocked off by snow. Interestingly Moss has also recently speculated that the cult at Kamares may have been associated with a deity of renewal (Moss, 2005: 127). She bases this on the presence of a jar decorated with crocus flowers.81 However, I believe that

Aside from the pottery, which is already much discussed elsewhere,80 there were several other finds of importance. Dawkins and Laistner found a vase filled with grain (1913: 11), unfortunately this “mass of material” was not recorded in any further detail. Watrous (1996: 60) refers to “a level of black earth containing many animal bones (e.g. cattle and sheep/goat)” in relation to the original excavation. However, while Dawkins and Laistner did find a layer of black earth near the entrance to the cave, they only explicitly refer to bones briefly in their account, on an ox skull found in the inner chamber: “This skull, like several other animal remains, could not from its appearance be very old, and is probably a relic of the 80

81 Similar vessels, such as the “Bowl of the Snake Goddess” (decorated with lilies) and the “Fruitstand of the Goddess of the Lillies” from the

See Dawkins and Laistner (1913, passim) and Betancourt (1985).

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this is too tenuous, especially given the fact that at the time of her writing much of the Kamares deposit had been incompletely studied. Even now, with the benefit of the recent pottery study, it is by no means clear what the nature of the Kamares cult actually was. However, the prevalence of pouring vessels – coupled with the presence of large scale storage pithoi (Van de Moortel, 2006: 84) – is suggestive that liquid played a significant role in the processes and practices that took place in the Kamares Cave.

first palace at Phaistos, have also been associated with the veneration of a divinity of seasonal renewal.

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from 11.5cm to over 50cm in height, of bovines were found and dated to LH IIIC. There are, in addition, numerous figurines in miniature – also in terracotta – representing various species such as bovid, ram, wild goat, deer and horse. Also there are two bronze bull figurines and a third bronze votive that is of a “mythical creature” that has been identified as a sphinx (Rutkowski, 1986: 59) (Fig. 41).

PATSOS Location: The sanctuary, or more properly cult site, is situated 14km south-east of the modern town of Rethymnon, some 490m above sea-level, on the east side of a gorge. A spring is located nearby. Site Type: Cave sanctuary: although some scholars have defined Patsos as a “rock shelter” (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 42).

Human votive figurines are, by contrast, few in number – only one terracotta example being found in the cave. There are, however, three male figurines in bronze which are unusually graphic for Minoan figures with large genitalia clearly depicted (Fig. 42). In addition to these, there is also a bronze “Reshep” figurine (Fig. 43) which Boardman identifies as an import from the SyroPalestinian area (Boardman, 1961: 76). In his native culture, Reshep was seen as a god whose responsibility was the infliction of, or curing of, disease. However, where he appears as an import in the Aegean he seems to have developed powers as a guardian or warding deity.82

History: Patsos appears to be a later cult foundation, possibly even as late as LM IIIB, (Watrous, 1996: 62), which has been linked to the foundation of the Late Minoan settlement of Sybrita (Ibid.). The presence of LM I sherds suggests that the site was frequented prior to the cult foundation. Similarly, later finds suggest that the use of Patsos as a cult location continued (albeit periodically) until the Roman period (Hood and Warren, 1966: 186). However, the acme of the cave as a cult site seems to have been LM IIIC-Sub Minoan. Kourou and Karetsou (1994) recently published much of the material from Patsos that had been scattered between many collections.

Patsos also had examples of ‘horns of consecration’: one was fairly simple, but the second was very ornate (Fig. 44). This second example, dating to LM III, is very curious as it has embellishments that make it markedly different from the norm. There is an upright protrusion between the two ‘horns’ and a cross-hatched design incised on the front face. Also there are two semi-circular features, one positioned on each side of the upright. These are, to the best of my knowledge, unique on depictions of the ‘horns of consecration’. It is perhaps tempting to see these as rowlocks or a similar shiprelated object, as discussed earlier the symbol may be interpreted as a stylised boat.83 This is especially interesting in this case as Peter Warren interpreted an engraving on a LM I limestone vessel from the site, which resembled a small ‘horns of consecration’, as a ship without rigging (Warren, 1966: 195-6). The interpretation of this is still unclear, but the presence of a symbol (regardless of its meaning), which is generally regarded as a Minoan religious symbol, at Patsos confirms the cultic significance of the site.

Discussion: The area is resplendent with caves, but the one that is known variously as του Αγίου Αντωνίου or στι χάραδρα or the Cave of Hermes Kranaios is that under discussion here. Despite Rutkowski and Nowicki’s claim that it is a rock shelter, in my opinion, the artefacts found at the site allow it to be classified justifiably among the cave sanctuaries. This is not an original argument; as early as 1961, Boardman recognised the similarity between votives from Patsos and those of Psychro (Boardman, 1961: 77). If we adhere to Rutkowski and Nowicki’s assertion that it is rather a spring (or nature) sanctuary (1996: 42) then we must compare it with other sanctuaries of this type – primarily Kato Syme (q.v.) and Piskokephalo – to which it is largely dissimilar. The site is some 9m deep and over 30m long sheltered by an overhang (Ibid.), with a large terrace in front of it measuring 40m x 6-12m. The spring that is located close to the cave is paralleled by the pools of water in several other Minoan cult caves such as Psychro (q.v.), Eileithyia at Amnissos, and Skotino (q.v.). It is reasonable to suppose that the presence of these pools and springs were significant, if not in the formation of the cult, then certainly in the practice thereof. Having said previously that that it appears to be a late cult foundation some of the artefacts within the cave seem to be Neopalatial in character – a stone offering table, a stone vase, two sealstones, a bronze chisel blade and double-axe, and also various terracotta animal figurines (Prent, 2005: 156). The precise nature of the Bronze Age cult use is unclear; however, after LM IIIB Patsos exhibits significant cultic traffic, possibly beyond local significance in view of the rare and high-quality votives present.

Thus Patsos exhibits many of the ‘normal’ Minoan cultic features. However, the evidence pertaining to sacrificial ritual at the cave is less than clear. Rutkowski makes mention of a stone altar (Rutkowski, 1986: 59; Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 42), but the references are fleeting. It is possible that this feature is that reported by the excavations of Halbherr and Orsi (1883-1886), but the structure is not obvious on any of the published plans. Faure noted a concretion outside the cave in his 1963 survey of Cretan cult sites, significant as it resembled the head of a bull and exhibited traces of modelling (Faure, 1964: 137 cited in Moss, 2005: 130 and Prent, 2005: 156): this could correspond to a sacrificial animal representation, a reflection of the cult practice in the 82 The Reshep figurines found at Phylakopi were speculated to fall into this category (Renfrew, 1985: 302-310). 83 See p. 14 for a discussion of this symbol.

The terracotta animal votives are the most significant artefact in terms of quantity. Eleven figures, ranging 54

cave. However, this is simply speculation as further references to the concretion all refer to Faure as the sole authority on its existence. Even if the identification and sacrificial association were valid, this would be circumstantial evidence at best. Prent, drawing on the work of Kourou and Karetsou, reports that in 1989 a burnt layer was found on the terrace with votives associated with it (Prent, 2005: 156). However, no bones are reported as being associated with this layer. The only reference to bone at the site is from near the concretion, they are described as “visible” (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 42) by which one may assume unstratified. As a result, they cannot be ascribed to either a definite period or a sound origin. Thus, any attempt to recreate a sacrificial ritual at Patsos is ultimately based on speculation. In truth, Patsos exhibits little evidence for cult practices beyond votive deposition. Pottery vessels are not numerous, and no LM IIIC pottery is known from the cave (Prent, 2005: 157). The only remnant of pottery that may have a connection to libation is the base of a rhyton, dated to LM IIIB, with the remains of three figures attached to it. While it is interesting as an artefact it is hardly testament to a concerted practice of liquid offerings. Similarly, there are no storage vessels, and even the usually prevalent conical cup is conspicuous by its absence. Thus Patsos shows little evidence of any cult practice beyond votive deposition.

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These faunal remains are significant as they are some of the only examples to have received any study whatsoever. In 1902, they were examined by BoydDawkins and he identified that they came from several species. These included: capra aegagrus – 1 frontlet, 2 horncores of a male, a skull of a young female, 1 frontlet of a kid, 1 horncore of an adult male which had been cut off; ovies aries – 1 large twisted horncore, 6 upper and 8 lower jaws, and numerous “refuse” bones which had been broken; cervus dama – two antlers of the fallow deer; sus scrofa – three skulls of boar. There were also bones of bos domesticus, variety creticus – 1 frontlet, with horncores, and, from the “lower stratum” (BoydDawkins, 1902: 163), fragments of a lower jaw, three lower jaws of calves with milk teeth, five broken long bones, two phalanges, and a broken metatarsal. Some of the bones in this latter group show evidence of scraping.

PSYCHRO Location: The cave lies in the Diktaean mountains, around 1025m above sea-level. Site Type: A large cave site, consisting of upper and lower grottoes, with a sizeable natural terrace in front of the entrance (Watrous, 1996: 17) (Fig. 45). History: The cave at Psychro was occupied during the Neolithic (Watrous, 1996: 47), but after this period is best known for its cult associations. It seems to have acquired this function around MM IIB (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 18). A continuity of cult practice can be traced from this period to the Archaic period, with an apparent break in Classical and Hellenistic periods, until the Roman era where it re-acquired a cult connection which lasted for many years. The site was excavated first in the late Victorian era by Hazzidakis and Halbherr, also later by Evans. However, the major excavation was carried out by Hogarth in 1899.

At first sight, this would seem to be a healthy collection of animal bones that is highly suggestive of the practice of sacrifice. However, there is a problem with this evidence. It comes from the levels in which they were found. Boyd-Dawkins differentiates between an “upper layer” and a “lower layer”, the former apparently being the MM III layers, with the latter the lowest level of the cave, that of the earlier occupation period. Thus it should be clear that the majority of the bos bones derive from the occupation period of the site, based on a combination of Boyd-Dawkins’ and Hogarth’s information, while the “larger specimens” (Ibid. 162) the horncores and skulls come from the Minoan cult period. This is very significant as it would seem to reinforce the significance of the bucranium (and the skulls of other animals) to the cult. Indeed, the only faunal remains that seem to derive from this period are of cranial elements.

Discussion: The Psychro cave contains some of the most striking evidence for animal sacrifice from any Minoan cult site. The majority of this comes from the upper grotto. In the north-western recess is the small, rectangular structure which is known as the ‘altar’. Around this altar, four levels were distinguished: the first contained Greek Geometric pottery and other objects, down to Medieval in date. In the second layer appeared Mycenaean pottery (presumably LM III), bronzes and plain cups, of which Evans found a considerable number, stacked one within another and apparently undisturbed; Hogarth notes that these were not found in the lower levels. A third level, whose identity is not completely clear from Hogarth’s account, held “glazed sherds, painted in cloudy brown stripes on a creamy slip”, presumably the tortoise-shell ripple ware of MM III-LM I (Boardman, 1961: 3). The fourth yielded ‘Kamares’ sherds (probably MM IIB-MM III) and stone offering tables, some with incised inscriptions. The lowest productive level of the cave was described by Hogarth as “a thick sediment of yellow clay mixed in its upper layer with a little primitive bucchero pottery and many bones, but empty below of anything but water-worn stones.”

The Upper Grotto at Psychro also contains extensive evidence of burning. Although the altar was the apparent focal point within the cave – certainly a large number of votive objects were deposited nearby – it was certainly not used for the immolation of sacrificial victims or their parts. Yavis (1949: 23) notes that the altar consists of a mass of squared stones, without binding material, and is untouched by fire. Yet there is a stratum of ash that extends over much of the upper grotto. Clearly fire played a role in the ritual practices in the cave, but I would suggest that it was not employed for the preparation / destruction / consecration of victims, especially as the bones were not reported as showing any degree of burning.

This stratigraphy, around the ‘altar’, is significant as elsewhere in the cave the sequence is rather less clear. The problem is compounded by Hogarth’s use of dynamite in clearing the cave, which has been noted as compromising parts of the sequence (Moss, 2005: 135). The faunal evidence, which is of such significance to this study, is reported only in a cursory manner. There are reports of bucrania, horns, and bones of pigs, oxen, boars, and goats from the upper grotto (Hogarth, 1900: 98-101; PM I: 627). Typically the precise find spot is unrecorded, however, and all that can be said is that the bones come from the lower levels – that of the “handburnished” bucchero pottery (Boardman, 1961: 5). These levels are possibly sub-Neolithic or Early Minoan, but certainly antedate the level with the Kamares sherds.

There is, in addition, a massive quantity of evidence for other forms of cult practice at Psychro. The one complete and thirty fragmentary offering tables attest to the deposition of gifts of some form. The curvilinear bowl forms, set within a cube-shaped pedestal, would seem to be best suited as receptacles for liquid offerings, i.e. libations. However, we should not discount other forms of oblation such as fruit or corn – these definitely were given in offering as the remnants of corn from the

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Temple Repositories (q.v.) and Anemospilia (q.v.) attest.84 Yet the offering of libations is supported by other evidence from Psychro. Beyond the wealth of jugs and cups, that are in themselves suggestive of practices involving liquids, a large terracotta bull’s head rhyton (HM 2175) was found dating to LM IIIA. This vessel form is found in a number of cult locations and is invariably associated with ritualised pouring.

categorical in his statement that this object is unique and, while it may simply be a significant personal votive reflective of cultic concerns, I would choose to see it in a different light. If we compare this artefact to finds from the Classical period, as has been done with so much Minoan material, an interesting similarity appears. Among the prerequisites for magic kits were metal plaques incised with crude figures and magical symbols.85 To the best of my knowledge, nothing has been written on the possibilities of Minoan magical practices but the comparison here is interesting; it would, therefore, make an interesting avenue for further study.

Beyond this a number of bronze figurines and weapons were found in the Lower Grotto, mainly in the mud around the pool in that chamber or lodged into the crevices among the stalagmites. Of particular interest are a large number of votive double axes, although only one is of a functional type – the remainder are votive in character and cut from sheet bronze. This would seem to be, rather than the deposition of sacrificial weaponry post-slaughter, a process of personal votive deposition akin to, but separate from, the processes played out with the human and animal figurines at both caves and peaks. It should be noted that the Psychro deposit, with its wealth of weapons and figurines, is the closest parallel to the typical ‘peak’ deposit found within a cave site. It has been argued that the disparity between the artefact assemblages recovered from the Upper and Lower grottoes is suggestive that a number of deities were worshipped at Psychro: Moss, in her recent study of the Minoan pantheon, comes up with six possible powers (Moss, 2005: 137). However, while I do not hold with the concept of the one Great Minoan Goddess (or her numerous aspects), I do not see the necessity for believing that a multiplicity of gods were worshipped at the same time at Psychro. The difference between the apparent ritual practices of libation and offering, including sacrifice, in the Upper Grotto and that of weapon and votive deposition in the Lower could be purely one of ritual process, and both may be valid aspects of the same cult.

To conclude, it is obvious that at Psychro we are dealing with an extensive and important cult site. This fact only makes the current level of understanding of its deposit all the more infuriatingly meagre. Psychro is the preeminent example of massively incomplete study, even with the more recent additions of the volumes by Rutkowski and Watrous. In his preliminary excavation report, Hogarth refers to the fact that much of what was excavated was left in the care of nearby village officials, among which were at least 550 wheel-made cups and a massive quantity of bone (Hogarth, 1900: 101). To the best of my knowledge, this material has never been studied, and so we are severely hampered in a complete analysis of the material from Psychro. However, from the evidence available it seems obvious that the animal remains and the ash layer, even if they are the remains of ritual processes, which seems likely, do not result from burnt sacrificial ritual. The bones are not calcined; there are no bones, from the Minoan levels, that can be identified as from the primary cuts of meat; the spread of ash and the lack of burning exhibited on the ‘altar’ discounts its use as a place of immolation. Yavis states this succinctly enough: “This deposit must come from ceremonial feasts, rather than from sacrifices or sacrificial feasts” (Yavis, 1949: 25). I do not agree with this wholeheartedly, however, as the evidence for ceremonial feasting, in terms of the primary evidence, is exactly the same as that for sacrifice, i.e. the faunal remains.86 It is clear that the ritual use of animals, or their parts, was extant at Psychro. However, once again, it would seem to play a secondary role to libation and votive deposition.

The final comment on the finds from Psychro must refer to those artefacts that have received the most comment. The first of these is the fragment of a large female figure. It consists of one piece which includes the neck, shoulder and upper arm. It is estimated that the figure, when whole (if it were that of a full figure statue), could have been c.3m in height, which would make it the largest known from any Minoan site, and is dated to between MM III and LM IA (Watrous, 1996: 39). There has long been a debate over the existence of cult figures in Minoan Crete. Often those who have argued that there were none have done so based on the small scale of those figures that have been found. Needless to say, a statue one and a half times life size would be a suitably imposing cult image. The other major, and idiosyncratic find, from Psychro is the Late Minoan (Boardman, 1961: 46 believes it to be no later than LM I) bronze plaque that most people believe depicts a Minoan cosmogony (Fig. 46). Of particular interest are the three ‘horns of consecration’, naturally of two different designs. Boardman (Ibid.) is 84

85 See. For example, The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation, Including the Demotic Spells, Betz, H.D. (ed.), 1986, University of Chicago Press 86 See Chapter Three: 93-95.

See above, pp. 28-29 and pp. 43-44. respectively.

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offering and votive deposition played a role: this is evinced by the best-known objects from the cave, the three LM I bronze male votive figurines which were written up by Davaras in his 1969 article. Indeed the majority of this article is concerned with these figurines (Fig. 48), which are small in size measuring only 7-9cm in height. They adopt a pose of adoration, the right arm clasped to the forehead, in a gesture similar to the modern military salute. Davaras compares this pose to that of the votives from other caves, and also the similarity to the pose of the male figure on the “Mountain Mother” seal (1969: 636-637). However, the opening pages of the article reveal much of the speculative reasoning and theorising that has dominated the brief published information on Skotino:

SKOTINO Location: Skotino is a large cave situated on a high plateau south of Chersonissos, half an hour west of the modern village of Skotino, and around three hours walk from Knossos. Site Type: Cave sanctuary. History: On the basis of the pottery evidence, cult begins at the Skotino cave in the Middle Minoan period (PM I: 163). The deposit showed that cult continued at the cave until the Roman period (Prent, 2005: 338). The site has been summarily explored by Evans, Pendlebury, Faure, and Davaras – who undertook a five-day limited excavation in the late 1960’s. However, no attempt at a full scale, systematic survey has been made (Ibid.) and, as such, the publication of the site is only cursory.

“La caverne de Skoteino…donne l’impression d’une grande cathédrale” (Davaras, 1969: 621). While this language is stirring, it is also laden with subjective presumption regarding the use of this cave and its place in Minoan religion. Indeed, Davaras references earlier theories dating as far back as Höck (1820’s), and expanded by Faure, that Skotino may be the source of the myths of the Knossian ‘Labyrinth’. This theory, in my opinion, is patently unfounded; if any structure gave rise to the tales of the Labyrinth, surely it would be the Palace itself rather than a cave, albeit a massive one. Even Davaras himself states that this hypothesis is “biens défendere, mais néanmoins improuvable” (Ibid.).

Discussion: The cave at Skotino is massive, 160m deep and consisting of four descending chambers (Fig. 47). The cave consists of a large, high-roofed front chamber, measuring some 90m x 30m x 12m high, and three smaller chambers. The second chamber contains a recess with a natural stone ‘altar’ (Tyree, 1974: 20-21) – indeed all of the chambers contain notable rock formations. However, it is those in the second chamber which appear to have been the focus of the cult. It was around these formations that Davaras excavated a layer with offerings, ash, sherds and stones (Davaras, 1969: 621-622). However, the area in which Davaras dug was compromised, “the surfaces were disturbed by peasants” (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 37), the ancient strata were mixed with those of later periods, and so the bones “of small animals” (Ibid.) which were found in this area cannot be associated with the Minoan period beyond reasonable doubt.

Seemingly, Skotino is seen as a major Minoan cult site: “This cave is regarded as one of the most important caves in Crete” (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: 36). However, it is difficult to see why when it is so incompletely studied. While it is true that it possibly contains a great wealth of cult material as yet unexcavated, to argue from silence is folly in the extreme. While I would agree that Skotino was a cult site, if we view it in a context with other cult caves it is by no means the best example of the category. In terms of quantity of finds, and their quality, Skotino is much poorer than Psychro (q.v.). Kamares and the Idaean Cave are also more varied in their cult remains. Moreover, there is no convincing evidence for the practice of sacrificial rituals at Skotino during the Minoan period.

In addition to the deposits and activity within the cave there was a depression in front of the cave (between 48m deep) which formed a natural courtyard some 25m in diameter. This is interesting as a similar terrace is visible outside the Psychro cave (q.v.), and it has been conjectured that the more communal rites at the caves took place on these terraces before a more secretive (elitist?) rite took place inside. There is no report of artefacts found on the terrace at Skotino, so there is nothing to confirm or deny this theory. However, there are stairs, of an uncertain date, carved into the bedrock, which lead down to the arched entrance to the cave. Much of the deposit from Skotino, as mentioned above, remains unpublished. As such, little else can be said of the cult practices at Skotino. Although Evans and Pendlebury believed that the ashes were the remains of sacrificial pyres, but this is by no means certain. The confused stratigraphy and lack of other evidence for mass burning – such as cracked rocks and soot deposits on the cave walls – would seem to limit the significance of the ash deposits in the cave. Similarly, the lack of faunal remains that can be firmly dated to the Minoan period is once again a frustrating situation. Yet, we can say that 58

Yet the key aspect of this chapter, beyond all else, is the significance of sacrificial ritual on Minoan Crete. We must begin, therefore, by identifying if sacrifice actually occurred. This can only be done by a close examination of the data presented in Chapter Two. As such, it makes sense to take a disaggregated view and break down the pertinent archaeological factors relating to sacrifice to allow us to identify if there is a homogenous or heterogeneous pattern. An initial summary of the key archaeological material classes is presented in Table 1.

CHAPTER THREE: INTERPRETATION This section draws together and analyses the evidence for sacrificial ritual and the other cult practices presented in Chapter Two. It seems logical to begin by correlating the information into an empirical data set and then, once the evidence is firmly understood, to attempt to interpret that data as a means of reconstructing the cult practices at the various Minoan cult sites, and thereby Minoan Crete as a whole. Significantly, the sites presented in the catalogue are of various types, those that are generally acknowledged to be the primary Minoan categories. They are also spread out across the island (see Map 1), and are from different periods within the Minoan era. This allows for the examination of the types of cult assemblages at these various sites, in addition to allowing us to examine if the cult practice is uniform across both time and geographic space. As stated in the introduction, it has generally been believed that there was a monolithic “Minoan” religion and, as such, possessed of a unified set of ritual practices. However, this hypothesis – as regards sacrificial ritual – has been based on presumption and preconception rather than fact. Hopefully, the analysis that takes place in the following sections will help to address this situation, and to elucidate whether sacrificial ritual was a major component of the Bronze Age religious practices of Crete. The reconstruction of a ritual practice is, of course, fraught with difficulty, especially when dealing with nonliterary, archaeological information. Leach necessarily complicates discussions of ritual behaviour by noting that “…any ritual activity has visual, verbal, spatial and temporal dimensions: in addition, noise, smell, touch and taste may all be relevant” (Leach, 1976: 81). Thus, there are always going to be some aspects of the ritual setting that we will not be able to identify from archaeology and so we must look elsewhere for this information. Obviously, the extant texts from Minoan Crete are of little or no use to us in this regard and the untranslated nature of Linear A (apparently a more ‘ritual’ script than Linear B) is a further hindrance. As a result, I feel we are justified in examining the ritual texts of other Bronze Age cultures to explicate the ritual archaeology of Crete. I acknowledge that there are inherent problems with this process of ethnographic analogy: religion and ritual are intimately tied to the culture that creates and utilises them and to attempt a direct correlation between two religious systems is both complex and ill-advised. However, if we use the Mesopotamian, Hittite and Egyptian texts to inform us about the concerns, types and range of rituals practised in the Bronze Age Eastern Mediterranean then this may allow us to judge the Minoan evidence in the general religious context of the period. I make no judgement on the nature or identity of the divinity addressed in these processes being similar to those of Egypt or the Near East as that matter is beyond the scope of this study.

59

60

Jones, as mentioned above, makes the point that animal bones are more common at cave sites than at the peaks. To some extent this is true (as shown by Jones’ survey), but once again one could by no means claim that they were a universal feature of the cult cave deposits. Certainly in the selection presented here, Psychro is the only example where we may speak of a persistent, repeated ritual process employing animals or their parts. The discussion of the skeletal elements in the catalogue entry for Psychro89 refers to the predominance of cranial elements in the deposit. The skull is a primary piece of butchery waste, it is rarely employed as a food-cut (except in the extraction of the brain), and, as such, is generally treated as refuse. However, its appearance at Psychro, not associated with other bones in a depositional relationship that would suggest on-site butchery, is interesting.90 If anything, it is suggestive that the cranial elements of the skeleton were deemed special or significant in some way by the Minoans.91

FAUNAL REMAINS The most significant archaeological indicator for animal sacrifice is the presence and amount of faunal remains at the various sites, and also the particular skeletal elements which are found. But, as may be seen from Table 1, faunal remains are by no means a uniform feature of the Minoan cult sites recorded in the catalogue. Indeed, cult sites where we may speak of faunal deposits that may be characteristic of sacrificial ritual number four in total: Juktas, Kato Syme, Psychro and Anemospilia. In all other cases the reports of faunal remains are of a nature that renders them unsuitable for inclusion in further discussion87 of sacrifice, the reasons for which are summarised in the notes attached to Table 1. Moreover, we can say that this is not simply a phenomenon caused by the selection of these sites: Jones, in his comparison between the deposits from the cave and peak sanctuaries, notes that out of the 31 sites he included only 8 exhibited any animal remains at all (1999: Table 9, 57-58). However, beyond his recording of this in tabular form and a note that more caves than peaks exhibit faunal remains (Ibid. 12), Jones makes no further mention of this pattern or its significance.

Thus far it would appear that faunal remains that can be directly associated with a Minoan ritual practice are the exception rather than the rule. However, when we examine the two seemingly unique sites of Kato Syme and Anemospilia then we see a much stronger presence of a possible sacrificial ritual, especially at the former. Kato Syme once again exhibits a predominance of decayed skulls and horncores, especially in the deposits associated with the podium. None of the bones that have been studied from Kato Syme are calcined and, as such, we may say that if they were burned it was done so with the flesh still in place, i.e. it was cooked. But it certainly appears that the head, or parts thereof, of the animal served some special significance and was deliberately deposited. But it must also be acknowledged that skulls and limb extremities are also classified as primary butchery waste (Halstead and Isaakidou, 2004: 140). It is clearly significant that at three major cult sites, out of the four in this study where there are Minoan faunal remains, there are notable deposits of cranial skeletal elements and their associated horns. These remains are indicative of a specific practice but it seems to be limited in scope to these few sites.

It should be immediately apparent that the sites where we have faunal remains are anomalous to the general spread of evidence. Even more interestingly, they appear to be unique in their categories: Juktas, for example, is the only peak with extensive faunal remains in this sample. While there are other peak sanctuaries, typically around 25-30 is the accepted total, Maza is the only other example at which any extensive faunal remains are reported (Faure, 1963 for example). Notably, in one of the most recent surveys of a peak sanctuary – the rescue excavations at Sklaverochori – animal bones were entirely absent, as they were in the cases of Petsophas, Vrysinas, Kophinas and Atsipadhes Korakias in this survey. Nevertheless, the bone deposit at Juktas, while an apparent anomaly among the general trend of the peaks, is so extensive, so hugely reported, that it must be reflective of a persistent and repeated ritual process at that site. Similarly, the range of species represented must have some significance. For example, bird bones are also reported from Juktas, which is interesting as doves are identified as a sacrificial victim at Ugarit (del Olmo Lete, 1999: 38).88 However, the remains of sheep and goat make up the majority of the deposit and so we must acknowledge that, whether the victims were interchangeable or if they were not, the ovicaprids were the predominant victim at Juktas. However, the presence of bucrania cannot be ignored as this specific skeletal element occurs at the other sites with faunal remains.

For instance, Anemospilia, while it shows itself to be a major cult establishment it does not contain any notable cranial elements, at least as far as the published material indicates.92 It would appear then that the faunal remains at Anemospilia relate to a separate cult practice. But what is also clear is that faunal remains from Juktas, Psychro and Kato Syme are of a cult nature as they differ greatly from the domestic and other secular assemblages which we know of from Crete.

89

See pp. 56-57. Yet, it must be remembered that the evidence from Psychro is biased towards those elements that were presented to Boyd-Dawkins for study (see p. 154-155). 91 See below, pp. 83-87. 92 See above, pp. 43-44.

87

90

Even if all the sites where animal bone is mentioned were included, these would still make the total number of included sites less than 50% of those in the catalogue. 88 See below, pp. 88-92 for their significance, among that of other species.

61

As stated in the introductory sections of this study93 it is usual for ritual deposits to differ from their secular counterparts, hence we are able to differentiate between the two. However, to the best of my knowledge, this has not been done for Minoan Crete. To some extent, this may be ascribed to two primary factors: the first is preconception, which has dogged the study of Minoan religion, that sacrifice was a widespread and uniform practice within Minoan culture. Such an assumption not only militated against the detailed recovery of remains from ritual sites but also the comparative study of those that were recovered. The second factor is more significant: in regard to the fact that in order to compare two data sets, we must first be in possession of two data sets. However, the secular faunal deposits are almost as enigmatic as those from cult sites. Thus, when we compare the two we must acknowledge that the information for comparison is limited.

been exploited for their meat, rather than secondary products such as milk or wool. One skeletal element that is conspicuous by its absence from Minoan Kommos is the cranium. The only cranial elements identified by Reese are ovicaprid mandibles, one from MM IB (found in Room 26-7) and one from MM II (found in Room 21), the former from an older animal (3-4 years), the latter from a younger animal less than a year old (Ibid. 172). There are also reports of skull fragments of Bos, mainly LM III, but these number less than 8 in total: intact skulls, or hornplates, are entirely absent. If we compare this infrequency of cranial elements in the Kommos deposit with the substantial reports of them from Juktas, Psychro and Kato Syme, there is a clear disparity. This would appear to lend credence to theories that the votive deposition of bucrania and skulls from other species was a specific cult practice. However, that does not necessarily dictate that they are the result of a sacrificial rite. Indeed the lack of corresponding long bones, certainly at Kato Syme, is suggestive that the killing and following butchery of the animal did not take place on site. That, however, is to be treated elsewhere;95 for now it is enough to remark that there are obvious differences between the faunal deposits from cult sites and those from secular assemblages, provided that Kommos may be seen as representative.

The deposits from Kavousi: Vronda and Kavousi: Kastro have already been mentioned94: however, perhaps the most significant report of faunal remains from a Minoan domestic assemblage comes from Kommos (Reese 1995), which is very detailed. 9,441 animal bones of larger mammals were identified at Kommos. These come from both domestic mammals – sheep, goat, pig, cattle, equid, and dog – and wild mammals – deer, hare, and mustelid. There were 140 identifiable deposits of bones from domestic mammals, of which ovicaprids are found in 90.7% of them, Sus in 45%, and Bos in 17.9% (Reese, 1995: 165). Of these deposits of bones, the NISP of ovicaprids is 185 (53.2% of the total of sheep/goat, pig and cattle), with 108 Sus (31%) and 55 Bos (15.8%). Thus, of the three major forms of domestic animal, ovicaprids make up more than half of the total number of individual animals identified at Kommos. This pattern is consistent across all periods of the Minoan settlement at Kommos and is indicative that sheep and goat were the primary domesticates.

The extent to which this representivity is the case must be addressed. It is telling that the other secular deposits to which Reese refers are isolated, for example the Unexplored Mansion at Knossos, reinforcing the sporadic nature of the study of faunal remains on Crete. There are two main issues with much of the work to date on Minoan faunal remains. The first is the fact that relatively few reports exist and most of these are relegated to brief appendices in larger volumes. As such there is a paucity of reported facts. The second problem is more specific to the faunal details; there is no general consensus on the matter of data presentation. The manner of presentation can vary from site-wide, for example Wilkens (1996) on Ayia Triada, to specific bag or block reports, such as Reese’s (1995) report from Kommos. Similarly, while some reports may discuss percentages of species representation, others – such as Walker (1996) on Palaikastro – simply state “the vast majority of the bone belonged to Ovis / Capra and Bos. Sus ranked a distant third in quanitity” (Walker, 1996: 279).

Of the 185 individual ovicaprids, 62 can be aged (Reese, 1995: 170). There are only 15 individuals (24.2%) which are 2.5-3 years or older (Ibid.). Although it is somewhat of a leap to see this as representative of the overall kill pattern, given that the ageable specimens are only onethird of the total, in the light of the lack of other evidence there is no other course. If this pattern is representative, then such a heavy death rate among younger animals must be seen as indicative that these animals were exploited primarily for their meat. Indeed, the skeletal elements would seem to corroborate this: although the majority of elements found are phalanges (Reese, 1995: 172-176), a significant minority, around 40%, of the faunal remains are the long bones – femur, humerus, tibia, radius, ulna), which are generally viewed as the primary cuts of meat among most cultures. Thus, at Minoan Kommos the herds of domesticates seem to have

93 94

This latter problem is exacerbated by the fact that some reports do not discuss particular skeletal elements in detail, treating the various skeletal elements as similar in terms of their presence; in other words, one bone is much the same as another in terms of working out species representation. However, in terms of structured deposition these facts are intrinsically crucial as they serve to differentiate different forms of deposit.96

95

See above, p. 17. See above, p. 19.

96

62

See below, pp. 83-87. See pp. 21-22 on Zooarchaeology and Ritual.

Walker (1996: 279-280) mentions specific skeletal elements, but seemingly only when they are perceived as being the result of a deliberate process of deposition: “Among the destruction debris [of Building I at Palaikastro], a deposit of sherds and bones was found on the hard, pebbly surface. The 11 bones comprised a Bos horncore, skull, and mandible. There was no evidence for burning or butchery.” While it may be possible, if we assume a Minoan settlement ‘life-cycle’ to have existed, to see this as a deliberate deposit in association with the destruction of the building, the fact that it is a ‘special’

deposit seems to be the justification for the detail of the description. However, this has the indirect effect of automatically biasing the report in favour of these ‘special’ deposits, as opposed to providing a factual account on the skeletal elements as a whole. The table below summarises the species representation from those reports where specific figures are provided, and these in general match up with Reese’s (1995) account from Kommos which was used as the basic data set.

Table 2: Faunal Remains from Minoan Sites Site

Date

NISP *

% Ovicaprid

% Sus

% Bos

Ayia Triada

EM

195

68.18

13.33

17.94

Ayia Triada

MM

218

66.96

26.60

5.95

Ayia Triada

MM III / LM IA

203

54.14

31.03

13.30

Ayia Triada

LM

312

71.78

18.58

6.08

Smari

MM – Late Geometric

693

54.68

18.7

12.95

Debla

EM

60

100

Myrtos

EM

134

90.3

8.2

1.5

LM IA

149

69.8

22.8

7.4

LM II

2760

60.4

23.9

11.9

LM IIIA2

183

64

23.5

12.0

Knossos – Minoan Unexplored Mansion Knossos – Minoan Unexplored Mansion Knossos – Minoan Unexplored Mansion

* Identifiable to Species Level In all cases ovicaprids can be seen to dominate the faunal deposits. A similar situation may be observed at Monastiraki: Halasmenos (LM IIIC) where ovicaprids account for 72.9% of the faunal remains; although at Khamalevri (LM IIIC) they are only 41.3% of the faunal remains (Dicknson, 2007: Pers. Comm.). In addition the following information may be offered as further context for the faunal remains. Where reports go into detail, in

general, they refer to the fact that “no parts of the postcranial skeleton of the three main species [ovicaprids, sus, and bos] were present in unexpectedly high or low proportions” (Bedwin, 1984: 307). Bedwin (Ibid.) goes on to comment that, in the case of the Minoan Unexplored Mansion, the skulls were “too fragmented for comparative data.” In addition, in several reports, for example that from Smari (Tsoukala, 1996: 273), the 63

those remains from Juktas, Psychro and Kato Syme are more likely to have derived from sacrificial practices than those from Anemospilia, but this may only be established by the accompanying evidence. Yet it is true to say that we may only conjecture sacrifice at these four sites, as these are the only cult sites from the selection presented in Chapter Two where the primary indicator, the animal bones, is found.

bones are predominantly unburnt (only c.1% were burnt in the case of Smari). However, at the Minoan Unexplored Mansion at Knossos much of the LM II material, particularly from the Pillar Hall (H) and Corridor L, was either completely charred or calcined (Bedwin, 1984: 307). Yet at Myrtos (Jarman 1972) there is no discussion of burning or butchery marks in relation to the faunal material. Thus while we seem to have a vague general consensus as regards skeletal element representation, there is no such agreement on the reports of burning and butchery. However, what does begin to become clear is that sheep and goats (ovicaprids) are the dominant domesticate species on Crete. The average (mean) percentage of ovicaprid bones in the deposits in the above table is 70.02%, while cattle bones are only 7.61% of the total identifiable deposits on average. This disparity is striking. We should perhaps not be overly surprised by this as certainly the rough pasture that dominates the Cretan landscape would be more suited to ovicaprids than to large herds of cattle. Thus in appearance the secular and ritual deposits from Crete do exhibit some marked similarities, the primary aspect being the overall dominance of ovicaprids. However, there are also other shared qualities: both exhibit some burning of the bones, albeit not in an organised or formally patterned manner, and in both types of deposit complete or articulated skeletons are not encountered. However, the elements within the assemblages are different. As we might expect, within the secular domestic deposits the majority of bones are those associated with the major cuts of meat – the limb bones themselves or the phalanges removed during the butchery process, while those within the cult deposits from Juktas, Psychro and Kato Syme are the more visually striking skeletal elements – for instance Bos hornplates – which appear to have been deliberately deposited. Of course, other bones are also found within these deposits but as may be seen from the information in Chapter Two, these elements are neither as common nor as well reported as the cranial elements. Indeed, at both Psychro and Kato Syme the cranial elements are frequently not accompanied by other corresponding skeletal elements. Anemospilia, however, as noted above would seem to reflect a different tradition. This is interesting as Anemospilia dates to a period, MM II – MM IIIA/B, in which at the three other Minoan cult sites we have no faunal remains. At Juktas the MM II – MM III A period is characterised by an utter absence of faunal remains. Similarly, at Kato Syme the majority of the faunal remains are associated with the podium, i.e. with the Late Minoan periods, despite its foundation in MM II, and at Psychro the bones seem to come from either the Neolithic habitation levels, or the period after that containing the Kamares sherds, i.e. after MM III. It would, therefore, be fair to judge the Anemospilia practice involving animals as being entirely separate from the practices at the other cult sites. In my opinion, 64

other ritualistic uses of fire beyond its everyday usefulness.

ASH DEPOSITS In previous studies the presence of ash layers at cult locations has been seen as a direct indicator of a burnt sacrifice ritual; one example of this would be in the comparatively recent study by Watrous (1996), where, in his tables listing finds from various sites, ash and bones are considered together under the heading of “Ash/Bones”, suggestive that the ash layers were seen as indivisible from possible sacrifices. Notably this was seen as a correlative factor in associating this aspect of Minoan religion with the later Classical θυσία ritual. However, the presence of ash would be a secondary indicator of such a practice, it could only be seen as such if the ash deposit were associated with faunal remains. But as we have seen these remains are sporadic and seem to be linked with specific sites as opposed to a general feature or a feature of a particular type of site.

There are many examples of the ritual use of fire as a purging, cleansing and purifying device from various cultures. At several sites, notably the peaks, the artefacts excavated – for example, the figurines from Petsophas – have shown traces of burning. This is possibly the result of their being deliberately cast into a fire as a means of consecrating them as an offering. Such practices are not unknown: the deliberate breaking or destruction of objects to release their ritual power is well known in the Neolithic and Copper Age Balkan area – for example, the Hamangia figurines from Bulgaria.97 The use of fire to release the inherent power within the votive offerings is a definite possibility in Minoan Crete. However, once again in must be acknowledged that the burning or charring of figurines is not a universal feature of Minoan sites. Indeed ash deposits are lacking from the all the urban cult sites in this catalogue, and the majority in total. Nevertheless while we may conclude that fire was not a pertinent feature of the domestic or urban cult, it is clear that the extramural situation is more confused.

However, this requires that we explain the ash deposits which are much more widespread than the faunal remains. As Table 1 shows, ash is found at all extramural sites included in this catalogue with the exception of Atsipadhes Korakias among the peaks and Arkalochori among the caves, although as Anemospilia was destroyed by fire the ash would be more typically associated with that conflagration. Given that we have ash deposits at sites where there are no faunal remains reported from the Minoan levels we must find an alternative explanation. But even then ashes are not a ubiquitous feature: while only Atsipadhes lacks such a deposit out of the seven peaks presented here, in his survey Jones (1999: 12) reports ash at only 12 of his 20 peaks.

This is especially true when we consider that the ash deposits at the three Minoan cult sites that contain large amounts of faunal remains. How then may we apply Yavis’ contention that a burnt sacrifice ritual is absent? He does so by associating the ash with a separate ritual practice: in relation to the ash layer at Psychro, which extends over much of the floor of the upper chamber, Yavis asserts that this “must have come from ceremonial feasts rather than from sacrifices or sacrificial feasts” (1949: 22).

Clearly then we cannot associate the ash with a burnt sacrifice ritual. Indeed Yavis made a similar point some sixty years ago: “there is no convincing evidence that altars for burnt flesh sacrifices were known in preHellenic religion, nor that burnt flesh sacrifices were practised” [my italics] (Yavis, 1949: 41-42).

I am less convinced by this, especially in relation to this deposit, along with those of Psychro and Kato Syme, as the predominant faunal remains (as outlined above) are cranial elements and, while these may be legitimately seen as the remains of primary butchery, I would have expected more long bones to have been found if the meat had been cooked and eaten on site along with a much greater degree of burning on the bones. In these three cases, it is difficult to provide as convincing an explanation for the bone remains as a ritual with sacrificial elements – although it may still be true that the fire was not used as a means of consecrating the animal parts. Indeed, the lack of reports of calcined bone, explicit in its absence at Kato Syme and Psychro, would suggest that the bones themselves were not exposed to fire. However, what is clear is that the use of fire, most probably for ritual and practical purposes occurred at most extramural Minoan cult sites.

The first alternative explanation that must be considered is the more practical one: fire’s most obvious qualities are the production of heat and light. As such, we should perhaps not be surprised to find ashes at these extramural sites, for either within a cave or upon a summit what other light source would be utilised, especially if the rites took place at night. In a similar vein, one recently advanced theory suggests that: “The visibility of the peak sanctuaries from the sea… and the presence of thick ash layers at some of the sanctuaries, supports the idea that the sanctuaries were used as landmarks or even as beacons for travellers and especially for ships coming from the Cyclades” (Soetens et al., 2003: 485). This is largely speculative, but does serve to highlight the fact that there is still much confusion about the origins of the ash layers at sanctuaries on Crete. However, we must remember that we are dealing with sites where there appear to have been ritualised activities. Ritual embellishes and, to some extent, subverts practical applications of objects. As a result we must examine

97

65

See Chapman 2000 passim.

Psychro. Although there is no altar at Kato Syme there is a massive central podium which has been associated with the supposed sacrificial practices at that site (Bergquist 1993, for example). Similarly, the presence of an altar at Patsos, although the bone is unstratified, is suggestive of sacrificial practices at that site also. However, the association between altar structures and the faunal remains at Juktas and Psychro are perhaps the most convincing arguments for a sacrificial altar.

ALTARS As discussed in Chapter One, the definition of an altar has led this survey to be more specific in its application of the term. As a result, their distribution among the Minoan cult sites is seen to be more sporadic than has been reported in earlier studies. Table 1 shows that there is no overall pattern to their distribution: they are found at Gournia, Karphi, Juktas, Gonies, Anemospilia, Psychro, Patsos, and Skotino.

But we must be wary of falling into the same trap as earlier academics, that of the Hellenocentric viewpoint. We must acknowledge that there are alternative forms of cult practice that do not require the use of a fixed altar structure, despite Nilsson’s claims to the contrary (Nilsson, 1950: 117). A very good historical example of this is that of the Scythians:

Overall, they appear to be more common among the cave sites than at any other type of site, but they could by no means be termed distinctive of the caves – a third of the occurrences are from caves. This pattern (or lack thereof) is very different from the opinions put forth by earlier scholars: “It is quite certain that altars of various kinds were placed (or made) in the peak sanctuaries. These have been mentioned above: a long, step-like altar (Juktas), a rectangular stone altar (Juktas), which was no doubt similar to the altar depicted on the Zakro rhyton, fire altars, altars of the eschara type, incurved altars and natural stones used as altars” (Rutkowski, 1986: 84)

“The Scythians prayed to their gods by offering them sacrifices, but this cult involved neither the making of statues (agalmata), the use of altars (bōmous), or the building of temples (nēous)” (Hartog, 1989: 171, based on Herdotus’ Histories 4.59 [my italics]). Thus according to the view of the Greeks, the Scythian practices are improper, not only because of their decision not to lay out a sacrificial space, but also because of the particulars of the ceremony itself are so strikingly different from the Greek cult. For example, the animal is choked, the throat is not cut and the blood does not flow; the pelekus (the axe used to break the neck) and the makhaira (the knife used to cut the throat) are utterly absent. Thus, according to the Greeks, the Scythian rites are abhorrent because of the absence of the blood that is the pre-eminent aspect of the Greek practice. It should also be noted that the use of an axe and the concentration on the blood have been translated to the hypothetical Minoan practice.

Even though Rutkowski’s comment is the polar extreme of this viewpoint, it is true to say that previous scholarship has seen altars in the majority of Minoan cult establishments.98 With a stringent application of the term ‘altar’ it is obvious that fewer occurrences of such structures will be reported, but even so it is clear that altars occur at less than half of the sites in this study. Moreover, the altars at the domestic / urban shrines cannot be associated with sacrifice because of the lack of the primary faunal indicators of this practice. We must therefore account for the preponderance of altar identifications in earlier work. I believe that this may, to some degree, be explained by an anachronistic application of the Classical religious triad of temple, cult image and altar (as outlined by Hartog 1989). The notion of a degree of similarity between the Bronze Age Aegean and the Classical Greek world has been a largely consistent aspect of Minoan studies, even if we limit its appearance to the use of terminology such as ‘Olympian’ and ‘chthonian’ – terms which have recently undergone a significant degree of reinterpretation (Hägg and Alroth (eds.), 2005 passim). As a result, we should perhaps not be overly surprised about the frequency and extent to which altars are discussed: “Temples, statues and altars are signs of Greekness and can serve as a criterion for Greekness” (Hartog, 1989: 172).

Moreover, we cannot attribute the general lack of temples or altars to the Scythians’ nomadic way of life as they did raise wooden temples to Ares, but even these structures were lacking in altars according to Herodotus. Thus it seems to have been a deliberate cultural decision to practise sacrifice without the conduit structure of an altar. Therefore, we must at least acknowledge the possibility of sacrificial practices without altars. But it is also entirely possible for altars to be used in bloodless sacrifices, which would account for those altars found at sites where we have no faunal remains. The chronological variation between the sites is of limited use in this case as the two sites with animal bones and altars are used as cult locations for much of the Minoan era. Interestingly the majority of the other sites (excluding Gonies and Anemospilia) date to the Late Minoan period. This is suggestive that fixed altar structures are more common in the later Minoan phases and may have only fully developed at this time. Unfortunately, on the basis of this small survey it would be foolhardy to be more concrete on this matter.

However, while sacrificial altars are by no means common, they do occur at two sites where there are incontrovertible Minoan faunal remains – Juktas and 98 See also Marinatos 1993, where the altar is included in her beginning summary of the key Minoan religious symbols and apparatus. Also Gesell’s Town, Palace and House Cult references various altars.

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However, the sites with animal bone exhibit these faunal remains in periods before the Late Minoan period as well as during it. Therefore, while altars may have developed in the later Minoan periods, the practices involving animals – of which sacrifice may well have been one – certainly took place in the earlier Minoan phases, as shown by the ovicaprids bones that dominate the MM IB – MM IIB layer at Juktas.

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While it has been speculated that all four individuals within the building died concurrently, it is possible that this third individual was already dead before the collapse. Previously such a suggestion, i.e. of the possibility that the third human was already dead, had only been considered in relation to his being a sacrificial victim.

HUMAN SACRIFICE The practice of human sacrifice is seen as the most extreme variant of the sacrificial rite and is often associated with modern notions of cruelty and a sense of disgust in the taking of human life. However, these modern (Western) notions are largely inapplicable when dealing with ancient cultures. For example, the Aztec culture in South America often practised human sacrifice in times of great need. Similarly, the ancient Phoenicians practised human sacrifice, in the form of the oblation of the firstborn, known as the molk sacrifice. According to liturgical texts this involved the holocaust of a child, of the new born, with the aim of restoring the forces of nature or the power of the state (Aubet, 2001: 246). Although no archaeological trace of the tophet – the place of sacrifice – or the mechanics of the cult has been found in the eastern Mediterranean region, excavations at Carthage have located several tophets and bone analysis shows that 80% of the bones, cremated in urns, were of foetuses or newborn babies (Ibid. 252). The votive stelae found in the tophets of the west, of which there are thousands, usually have an inscription with a formula referring to human blood sacrifice (mlk’dm) or the substitution of a sheep for the child (mlk’mr or molchomor).

So is there any evidence that may be cited to support the burial hypothesis? The matter is complicated as the exact nature of the Anemospilia structure has never been established. However, given the association of Anemospilia with the settlement of Archanes, it may also be associated with the nearby cemetery of Phourni. This would certainly be legitimate in terms of proximity, which is the main aspect of its association with Archanes. Phourni is one of the most significant Minoan cemeteries excavated thus far, its uninterrupted use as a burial place, from Early Minoan II – Late Minoan IIIC, allows for a full examination of the burial practices and their evolution over time.99 During the pre-Palatial and First Palace periods, bodies were placed on the ground inside the various burial structures, with the body “in a contracted position and usually on the right side” (Sakellarakis and Sakellarakis 1997: 246). Even the burials in pithoi and sarcophagi, which in the case of the latter begin as early as EM II (the lower level of Tholos Tomb E), use this contracted position. It is noticeable that the third skeleton at Anemospilia, the so-called ‘sacrifice’, is also in a contracted position on his right side. While this may be coincidental, there are other similarities between the burial complexes of Phourni and the Anemospilia structure: both show a wide range of utensils for the practice of libation; both have the presence of animal bone; both are associated with the settlement of Archanes. It is perhaps significant that the complex identified by Sakellarakis and Sakellarakis as a funerary preparation site at Phourni, Building 4, comes into use in the Neo-Palatial period, i.e. the period just after the destruction of Anemospilia in MM IIIA. Although the accoutrements of the two are not identical, both seem to be for the performance of a preparatory cult function.100 I believe that the structure at Anemospilia, while it is of a cult nature, may also have served a function attached to the cemetery at Phourni. This would account for the problems with the sacrificial theory – namely the lack of a suitable sacrificial weapon, an inappropriate altar structure, and the other issues outlined above. While I realise that this theory still requires development it should be apparent that the explanation of the Anemospilia deposit as an occurrence of human sacrifice has certain problems associated with it that cast doubt on its accuracy.

Thus it should be clear that the concept of human sacrifice was not as abhorrent to many cultures of the ancient world as it is today. However, we must be careful to apply the term sacrifice accurately; not every ritual killing is a sacrifice. Thus it is important to draw a distinction “between properly called human sacrifices – those offered to a superhuman recipient – and other rites which may require the killing of human beings without belonging to the cult of superhuman beings” (Hughes, 1991: 3). However, before such distinctions are worthwhile it must be adjudges that humans were killed in rites during the Minoan period at all. As such it is crucial to have at least a basic understanding of the key sites which have been used to suggest that the practice existed on Minoan Crete. In relation to Anemospilia, as discussed above, the skeleton which was found in a crouched position upon a structure that was tentatively identified as an altar. It is this association of a human body and an ‘altar’ within a cult structure that has given rise to speculation about human sacrifice. It is perhaps telling that no alternative explanation for the deposit was proposed – the simplistic association was deemed convincing enough. It is possible that the activity taking place in the room was some form of preliminary funeral preparation: the obvious example of extended rites in association with pre-burial ritual would be the Egyptian mummification process. While I am in no way suggesting that Minoan Crete practised mummification, as that is simply not true, it is possible that extended preliminary funeral rites took place away from the actual place of interment. It must be acknowledged that due to the massive damage done to the individual upon the ‘altar’ during the collapse of the structure a precise cause of death cannot be concluded.

Aside from Anemospilia, perhaps the only other site that shows potential evidence for human sacrifice is the 99 See Sakellarakis and Sakellarakis 1997 for a full discussion of Phourni. 100 Obviously this conclusion is drawn from the surviving aspects of the Anemospilia structure (see above pp. 43-44).

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somewhat suggestively named “Room of the Children’s Bones” at Knossos.

possible indicator of human sacrifice in the Aegean Bronze Age. But even here the evidence is not explicit: Tn 316 contains a list of gold vessels and unnamed men and women dedicated in some way to a number of deities, including Zeus, Hera, Potnia, Hermes (apparently), and one I-pe-me-de-ja. The most frequent offering is a gold vessel and one human being per deity, although some vessels are offered without a human counterpart.

This is a small room of a Late Minoan IB house, c.1450 B.C., containing animal101 and human bones. The room shows occupancy from MM II onwards, but the pertinent finds – including the bones – come from the LM I layers. In addition to the bones, there were 25 conical cups, a series of other pottery and charcoal fragments (Warren, 1981: 159).

However, while it would seem that these individuals are dedicated to a deity the specifics are unclear. Hughes (1991: 202) summarises the possibilities as follows:

The majority of the 218 human bones were found in a layer of soft, black, carbonised earth. However, the bones themselves were unburnt, which indicates that the black carbonised earth, in its original form at the moment of destruction, subsided over them. This earth then would appear to be the decayed form of burnt timbers, some of which still preserved their form at the top of the black level. The human bones were scattered throughout this level in no semblance of skeletal order whatsoever. This point is easily confirmed by the fact that many of the skull fragments were able to be joined together into two fairly complete skulls, with mandibles, which belonged to children of eight and twelve years old. But at least four individuals, all children, are represented in the room. The key archaeological and osteological factor in respect to these remains is the evidence of human modification: that is to say 35.7% appear to bear cut marks on them which suggest filleting and the deliberate removal of the flesh.

1. 2. 3. 4.

The ideograms WOMAN and MAN refer not to actual people but to figurines. The humans act as cup-bearers to carry the vessels in procession. The men and women were dedicated to serve in the sanctuaries in some capacity. OR The men and women were sacrificial victims.

The introductory formula which accompanies these ideograms, PO-RE-NA, is unclear as to the exact nature of these people. That the gold vessels were listed first implies that they were the most valuable dedication (Ibid.). Yet this does not mean that the individuals were not sacrifices – a slave or a prisoner would be more than likely to be valued less highly than a gold vessel. Thus the textual evidence is frustrating in this respect.

It must be noted immediately that this deposit is unique. It is not a burial – the lack of care given to the remains is utterly alien to the Minoan burial practice which seems reverential in its treatment of the remains of the deceased, even with their secondary burial practices. The lack of articulation in the remains also shows that we are not here dealing with a primary burial interment in the basement, but with bones (unburnt) placed, or perhaps quite possibly carelessly thrown, into the western part of the room. The knife marks on the bones have given rise to theories of (ritualistic) cannibalism. The circumstances behind the deposit are still unclear, but if the analysis of the cut marks as being indicative of the deliberate removal of flesh is accurate then we are forced to acknowledge the possibility of sacrifice. Although it must also be noted that there is no archaeological indication of an altar structure in the basement, nor anything to suggest an oblative function for the deposit. If we ignore the two possible archaeological occurrences of human sacrifice outlined above, then there is little other evidence to suggest the existence of the practice in the Aegean during the Bronze Age. The only textual indication comes in the form of Pylos Tablet Tn 316. This tablet has been described as “The most important single Mycenaean document to give evidence of cult practices” (Hughes, 1991: 201). Although Mycenaean rather than Minoan, Linear B Tablet Tn 316 is the only 101 A few ovicaprids bones, vertebrae with cutmarks (Warren, 1981: 159).

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THE RITUAL CONTEXT OF SACRIFICE As the title of this study indicates, the purpose of this paper is not only the focussed study of the archaeological evidence for sacrifice in Minoan Crete, but also to place this practice in the overall cultic scheme that operated in the Bronze Age. By which I mean the relative frequency of the archaeological indicators of sacrifice when compared with those of other cult practices such as votive deposition, libation, and the offering of nonanimal foodstuffs. The patterns of distribution of these various remains allow us to identify the more significant forms of worship and cult practice in Minoan Crete, hence the inclusion of the data pertinent to these practices in the catalogue section. It makes sense initially to address each of these practices separately and then express a synthetic view once the data has been examined.

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LIBATION It has long been postulated that liquid offerings played a major role in the ritual processes of Minoan Crete. As can be seen from Table 1, pottery is the only archaeological feature present at all 21 sites presented in the catalogue. However, this is not detailed enough, hence in Table 2 the type of vessel (where possible) is identified. This is necessary as, while certain vessel forms are directly designed for drinking (conical cups, kylikes) or pouring (rhyta), others are for storage (pithoi) or serving. The oblative function of libation necessitates primarily pouring and drinking vessels and, as such, if libation is the major cult practice we should expect these in either very large numbers or elaborate designs. We may also expect storage or collection vessels to hold the liquids before the ceremony, more than likely in quantities relative to the size of the site and in proportion to the numbers of pouring and drinking vessels – this is, of course, presuming that the liquids for libation were stored on-site. A further artefact that may be indicative of the practice of libation is the offering table – a feature that occurs in several forms from many cult sites (Figs. 49-53). The design, usually a surface with one of more shallow, bowl-like depressions, would seem to be ideally suited for the reception of liquids, although cereals and pulses would also be appropriate. The kernos, a multi-cupped vessel on a stand (Fig. 54), may have served a similar function in the pre- and proto-Palatial era.

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viewed Atsipadhes as a “poorer” rural peak sanctuary (Peatfield 1990 passim).

But it must also be acknowledged that all of these vessels also had a utilitarian function. Indeed the conical cup is one of the humblest of Minoan artefacts; Gillis (1990: 1) describes this vessel as “the epitome of the ‘uninteresting’ low-status object.” She also adds that, in her opinion, the cups are “purely pragmatic and have no symbolic function, either social or religious, at all” (Ibid. 3). While I agree that in itself the conical cup had no inherent religious symbolism, we cannot doubt its use in a ritual setting. The term conical cup requires some explanation, and it makes sense to follow Gillis’ description as hers is the major work on the subject. The term conical cup is one applied to small, handleless cups of a coarse design: “the shape can vary considerably, regarding base shape, wall shape and even rim shape. Despite its name, the walls of these cups are as often unconical as not, being curved, semi-globular, agival, bell-shaped etc.” (Ibid. 5). This much may be seen from the sections of the various shapes (Fig. 55).These cups were wheel-thrown and cut off the wheel with a string, and hence may be seen to have been mass-produced at considerable speed. In addition, it should also be noted, as Gillis does (Ibid. 3), that a number of early 20th century excavations overlooked the conical cup due to its humble character; only a limited number were recorded and retained, and even these have a limited provenience.

Of the peak sanctuaries discussed in the catalogue, five out of the seven exhibit drinking, pouring, and storage wares; namely, Juktas, Petsophas, Kophinas, Atsipadhes, and Vrysinas. Only Traostalos and Gonies are lacking in pouring shapes. This is convincing evidence for the fact that liquids played a major role in the cult activity of the peaks. This is even more apparent when one considers that four out of the seven – Juktas, Petsophas, Traostalos, and Kophinas – all exhibit offering tables or altar structures. Such a largely consistent presence of all paraphernalia relevant to libation at the peak sanctuaries would strongly suggest that their practice was a key component of the peak cult. A similar pattern is visible in relation to the caves. Once again all of the caves exhibit storage and drinking wares, even Arkalochori has fine cups and bowls and some fine decorated vase covers. Kamares, as we may expect, has perhaps the greatest range of pottery, included amongst which are objects which Jones (1999: 52) describes as a “fruit stand.” Similarly, most have vessels that may have been used for pouring. A notable example of this is Psychro, which reports fragments of two bull’s head rhyta (Hogarth, 1900: 104; Boardman, 1961: 57) and possibly another modelled on a goat’s head.102 Psychro is also noteworthy for the large number, over 30, of offering tables, some of which were inscribed with Linear A signs. However, aside from the Idaean Cave none of the other cave sites presented here contained offering tables. However, it is possible that the “fruit stands” reported at Kamares are a form of pedestalled offering table. These objects have been studied recently (Platon and Pararas 1991) and have been associated with libation rituals. We may then postulate that libations took place at, at least, Psychro, the Idaean Cave, and Kamares, as all three of the function-forms of pottery and offering tables are found at these locations. Drinking rituals (toasting ceremonies?), and possibly libations, seem to have occurred at the other cave sites, with the exception of Arkalochori which seems to have had little or no ritual function.

By contrast, the varieties of pouring vessels – in particular, rhyta – are at times incredibly ornate and have received much attention. This is especially true of the striking examples of the zoomorphic type, although certain other examples, such as the Harvester Vase from Ayia Triada and the Sanctuary Rhyton from Zakros are equally as famous for their decoration. Yet it is the zoomorphic examples, such as the famous serpentine bull’s head rhyton from the Little Palace at Knossos (Fig. 56), that have garnered the most attention in the study of possible ritual vessels. This doubtless results from the (simplistic?) association between the zoomorphic appearance and the offering of an animal’s blood. While this cannot be refuted, it does not preclude their use in libations involving wine, honey, or milk. However, one must be careful as the rhyton is not an exclusively ritual vessel, nor is it the only type of vessel that served a pouring function – the stirrup vase, for example, could also have been used for such a purpose.

The extramural sanctuaries show a different pattern of evidence, inasmuch as the quantities and locations of the evidence pertinent to libation are different. Kato Syme, for example, has over 500 (five hundred) examples of offering tables, whereas Anemospilia has none. Kato Syme also has coarse storage ware and pithoi, along with jars, cups, kylikes, and some cooking pots. However, given the preponderance of offering tables and other forms of pottery, the evidence for pouring vessels is scanty. This makes the identification of libation somewhat problematic, but given the sheer numbers of offering tables such a rite still seems likely. Anemospilia also has a significant amount of pottery, primarily the 24 vases in the east room and the large number of vessels,

However, it would seem a legitimate conclusion to deduce that at those ritual sites where we have pouring and drinking vessels, and the offering tables described above, that libations played a part in the cult process. This is even more probable if storage vessels are present, suggesting that they were a regular feature requiring a constantly present supply of liquids. The offering table may not be a key cult implement in extramural sanctuaries, however, as here natural clefts or pools may have served depending on the nature of the deity worshipped. For example, they are not found at Atsipadhes although coarse drinking, pouring, and storage vessels are found. This may lead to the conclusion that these tables were associated with one specific cult or with more elaborate cult sites: Peatfield

102 Jones (1999: 52) claims that Psychro has no pouring vessels, but this is clearly not the case.

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including pithoi, in the central chamber. This fact, and the broken vessel associated with the skeleton in the antechamber, are suggestive of the practice of libation at Anemospilia as well.

indication that blood was used (see Fig. 58). In the Archaic and Classical periods libation was widespread, with two verbs σπένδειν and χέειν becoming used for the act. Burkert (1985: 70) accounts for the difference as being directly related to the vessels employed in the rite; the σπéνδειν being associated with a hand-held jug and controlled pouring, and χéειν with the tipping of a larger vessel onto the ground. Similarly, Burkert sees the latter as being primarily associated with the cult of ancestors or chthonic deities. However, as more recent studies (Hägg, R. and Alroth, B. (eds.), 2005, passim) have reiterated, the division between Olympian and chthonic may not be as evident as was once believed.

By contrast, the urban sanctuaries and deposits have very scant evidence for any ritual practice. Libation would seem possible both at Gournia and the Shrine of the Double Axes at Knossos, as both contained an offering table set into the floor. The latter also contained an LM IIIB stirrup jar, which could have been used as a pouring vessel. Likewise the “vases collecteurs” in the floor of salle β (Malia) are potentially receptacles for liquids. Karphi, as noted above, contained little or no evidence for the practice of libations.

The liquids used for the Archaic and Classical libations were wine, honey, and milk – in the Odyssey (XI. 30-31), all three are used as well as water. Indeed, Burkert (Ibid. 71) sees the libation as a polar opposite to the θυσία ritual – one being peaceful (the libation) and one “hostile” (the burnt animal sacrifice), the former being used to frame the latter, re-establishing the peace. In relation to this theory it is interesting that the word σπονδαι (“libations”) can also mean “armistice”.105 However, while I do not agree with the polarisation of these ritual processes, one may envisage the utilisation of the same non-blood products in Minoan rites. Indeed, Nilsson (1950: 343) saw the use of intoxicants such as wine as being an explanation for the ecstatic qualities of some Minoan cult scenes.106

Thus it would appear that libation was a major feature of peak, cave, and extramural cult. Although the urban deposits are more confused, there are indications of the practice being extant there as well. Given the apparently frequent occurrence of libation at Minoan cult sites we turn, inevitably, to the liquid that was offered. Ultimately, without archaeo-chemical analysis data, this is largely speculative. If we take the evidence of the Ayia Triada sarcophagus as verbatim then there is reason to suggest that blood was offered. Certainly in this scene blood may be seen to be being collected in large vases, seemingly by stabbing the victim in the neck (see Fig. 57).103 In the traditional reading of the sarcophagus, as seeing both of the long side panels as parts of the same ritual process, the blood is then poured into a large vessel somewhat reminiscent of the Classical krater. If this is an accurate rendering of a ritual scene (the interpretation of which was discussed earlier104) then it prompts an interesting question on where the division lies between libation and sacrifice. Previous study, indeed the study of ritual in general, has tended to view these rites as mutually exclusive. But if blood were a primary liquid used in offerings – a theory that has been applied to the Ayia Triada sarcophagus and the “vases collecteurs” of salle β in particular – then might we see the two rites as aspects of one process, the blood being offered to a power while the carcass served a more secular function, perhaps the feeding of the congregation. If so, this would alter the perceived focus of Minoan ritual activity. However, we still return to the fundamental issue of the lack of faunal remains from the majority of Minoan cult sites, which would seem to cast doubt not only on the practice of sacrifice but also any other rite involving animals. Thus, given the very limited distribution of faunal remains but the extensive distribution of artefacts suggestive of libation, it would seem a logical conjecture that even if blood were used in some libations it certainly was not the exclusive liquid offering. Therefore we may speculate, with a high degree of certainty, that other liquid materials were also used. Certainly some of the iconographic representations of possible libation give no

While this is speculative, there is a general consensus that bloodless libation was a popular ritual practice in the Minoan period, and the archaeological evidence would seem to corroborate this supposition. However, the question of its primacy is somewhat moot as it is one aspect of a very varied cult system, but we may say that the evidence for it is certainly more widespread than that for animal sacrifice, suggesting that it was more common than this latter practice.

105

Of course, other scholars view these rites differently. Obbink (1993: 78) notes that “wine poured in honour of the god was regarded as a type of sacrifice”. 106 For a discussion of the ecstatic qualities of Minoan religion see below pp. 101-103.

103 A similar method of killing animals to drain their blood is still prevalent in some areas today, especially in the Omo Valley in Ethiopia. 104 See pp. 15-16.

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exists at Kamares where a handful of non-descript animal figurines are reported. Thus, while animal figurines are an aspect of the cave cult, it is clearly not as significant an aspect as it is at the peaks. Likewise, the extra-urban sanctuaries seem to have only a marginal connection with animal figurine deposition. Anemospilia has none, and at Kato Syme – while they occur – they are small in size and do not occur in numbers comparable with the peaks. Kato Syme has primarily bovine figurines and, interestingly, these are typically associated with the kylikes found at the site.

VOTIVE DEPOSITION One of the features of Bronze Age Cretan religion that has most dominated previous study is the prevalence of votive figurines at a number of Minoan cult sites. Although this ritual process is markedly different from animal sacrifice, it is clearly a major component of the ritual context of the period and, as such, it must be considered in this study. The figurines may be divided into sub-categories according to material and type: while the majority are of clay, there is a significant minority of examples in bronze and other metals. The type of figurine may be either animal or humanoid, which may then be further divided by species and gender.107 Therefore, it should be immediately apparent that there is a great range of figurine types, and so it seems sensible to discuss the animal and humanoid figurines separately.

Having established that the animal figurines are a prominent artefact at the extramural sanctuaries, notably the peaks, it is necessary to discuss the purpose of these dedications. Rouse (1902) made a similar study of the votives from Greek sanctuaries, and he saw a large number of them as being directly related to the concept of sacrifice. He classified them thus: 1) Figures or groups which represent the devotee prepared for sacrifice, or engaged with some ritual act. 2) Models of the thing sacrificed. 3) The articles used in the ritual. 4) The deity to whom the sacrifice is made. (Rouse, 1902: 283)

The location of the votive within the sanctuary is also a significant feature of the practice of deposition. Alroth has noted this phenomenon in relation to the Classical practice : “Thus, the placement of the votive gift on or at the altar means something different from the placement of a similar votive on a bench at the entrance to a sanctuary” (Alroth, 1988: 195). Unfortunately, for the Minoan sanctuaries, in many cases we do not know the exact place of deposition, because either the precise find spot was not recorded or the votives were found in a large dump, as in the case of Petsophas, perhaps from periodic cleaning of the area.

Rouse saw the figurines of animals as having one of two possible functions, either as a pseudo-sacrifice or as the commemoration of a sacrificial occurrence: “We may now take a general view of the animal models: not to imply that they must commemorate a sacrifice, but that they may” (Ibid. 298). It must be noted that a number of the historical Greek sanctuaries exhibit a similar assortment of figurines to the Minoan sanctuaries in this study. For example, the Argive Heraeum and Olympia both yielded hundreds of animals in bronze and clay, the latter also contained a representation of an insect in bronze, possibly a scarab (Rouse, 1902: Fig. 45), which is reminiscent of the beetle figurines from Juktas. This traditional viewpoint of the pseudo-sacrifice has also been the primary hypothesis applied to the Minoan figurines. However, the recent study by Zeimbekis (Unpub. Ph.D.thesis) has cast serious doubt upon this interpretation. The significant feature of the material at Juktas, for example, is that while the faunal remains are predominantly ovicaprids the figurines are mostly of bovines. This is one of the major pieces of evidence in her countering of the pseudo-sacrifice hypothesis.

Animal Figurines Table 1 shows that the extramural sanctuaries are characterised by animal figurines – with the exceptions of Skotino, Arkalochori, and Anemospilia – whereas none of the urban deposits contained animal figurines. The animal figurines are particularly associated with the peak sanctuaries, as they occur at these sites in much higher numbers than in the caves. Juktas, without doubt, exhibits a wide range of species in terms of animal figurines; namely bovines, goats, birds, pigs, dogs, beetles, and snakes, all in large numbers. Petsophas, likewise, has many species represented by figurines: bovines, agrimi, goats, sheep, swine, dogs, hares, tortoises, and a weasel-like creature, in addition to birds. However, aside from oxen, they are small in size (3-7 cm). The other peaks do not show anything like this range – most have oxen, birds, and goats and nothing else, although Traostalos does have a fish, but this may have served as a rhyton.

Another interpretation may well account for the dichotomy between the urban and extramural sanctuaries; namely that the animal figurines are associated with pastoralism and herd management (Rutkowski, 1986: 88). This would explain why the animal figurines are largely absent from the urban cult installations, as the protection of flocks and the environment that sustained them would most probably be primarily associated with the extramural sanctuaries in the areas where the flocks were kept. However, while it is very probable that at least some of the cult practices carried out by the Minoans

The caves, while they do contain animal figurines, do not exhibit anything like the quantity or the range of figurines. Even Psychro has only a few clay bovines and a single clay sheep (Jones, 1999: 7). A similar situation 107 Jones (1999: 6-7) makes a further division according to size, but I do not feel that this is as relevant a factor.

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were associated with the fertility of flocks or the production of food, this interpretation of the animal figurines does not account for the presence of figurines of birds, beetles, and wild animals at some of the sanctuaries. Indeed these votives would seem to be problematic for the interpretation of the animal figurines, and the cult of the peaks, if they were to “relieve the fears and cares of the shepherds and cattle breeders” (Rutkowski, 1986: 94).

animals, which may suggest that the humanoid and animal figurines are not for the same purpose. In my opinion, it at least casts further doubt on the concept of the pseudo-sacrifice interpretation of the animal figurines themselves. These human figurines, as we may term them if the interpretation as worshippers is correct, are a major feature of the majority of Minoan cult locations. The cave sites, as a type, are where they are least common: while Psychro has them in abundance, and Ida would also see to have large numbers although reports are as yet incomplete, the majority of caves are lacking in them. Skotino has only the three famous bronze examples (Davaras, 1969 passim), and they are simply not present at the other caves in this survey. This is very significant as they are practically ubiquitous elsewhere. Only salle β was without them; this, however, is consistent with the fact that this room was lacking in everything aside from pottery in the form of the vases collecteurs and the famous swords.

Personally, I believe that no one explanation can account for the range of animal figurines found at Minoan sanctuaries. It is possible that they constituted a gift in themselves to the deity – the range in size reflecting the wealth or status of the dedicator. Equally they may reflect the power of the deity worshipped at the site – flocks, birds, fish, wildlife in general – all of these may be reflected in the animal votives: there has certainly been a deal of speculation about a Minoan ‘Mistress of Animals’.108 However, whatever the motivation behind the deposition of votive animal figurines at the caves and peak sanctuaries, what should be abundantly clear is that the cult practice of their deposition is more widespread and more common than the practice of animal sacrifice may have been, even if all faunal remains at Minoan sites are remains of sacrifices.

However, there is a notable difference between the urban and extramural sanctuaries. The figurines found in the urban shrines are typically seen as depicting deities rather than worshippers, whereas those at the peaks are seen as personal votives; this is especially true of the LM III shrines, such as Karphi, where we have the “Goddess with Upraised Arms” figurines, which are identified as deities because of their gestures. Also the figurines from urban shrines are exclusively female, at least in this selection, but it is certainly not a great leap to state that the urban shrine figurines are exclusively female. By contrast the peaks show both male and female figurines. As the peaks exhibit the greatest range of votive anthropomorphic figurines it is fitting to discuss them in more detail. While all of the peaks contained male and female figurines one should not think of these deposits as being identical. Indeed there is considerable variation in the styles of figurines at the peaks, especially the female figurines. The most significant example of this variation is the style of female figurines dominant at Petsophas.110 The female figurines from Gonies exhibit similarly ornate headgear but of a different design. This variation in the style of the figures could relate to different female deities or, indeed, to distinct local dress styles – whichever is the case it is an indication that general uniformity should not be confused with an identical quality. The male figurines are seen to be more uniform than the female – typically unclothed aside from a ‘loincloth’ often with an object (dagger?) in the belt – and this is particularly noticeable in terms of gesture. The most common gesture of the male figurines is to have one or both fists clasped to the chest; also significant is the gesture of the arms outstretched. Both have been interpreted as gestures of adoration, and thus the figurines are seen as depicting worshippers. It is also noteworthy that while the male figurines outnumber the female, the latter are far more ornate. In my opinion,

Humanoid Figurines The anthropomorphic figurines (to be more precise) seem to be equally as important as the animal figurines, if not more so. However, their interpretation is ostensibly more straightforward. They must be either the depiction of an anthropomorphised deity or representations of the worshippers themselves. The latter interpretation has been the one which has attracted a level of general acceptance. For the basis of this study the fabric of the figurine is not overly significant. The majority are of clay (terracotta) but there are significant examples, such as those from Skotino, in bronze. Again, if we compare the Minoan figurines with those from historical Greek sanctuaries, the interpretation as worshippers would seem very reasonable. However, there is one notable difference between the assemblages from the two cultures. The Greek sanctuaries contain several examples of a human109 figure carrying an animal, or animals, which have been seen as the bringing of a victim for sacrifice or dedication to the deity. Famous examples of this type would be the Moschophoros (‘Calf-Bearer’), and the several Kriophoroi such as the gigantic example from Thasos (Ridgway, 1977: 73-74). There are similar depictions of men and women carrying animals on plaques from the Greek sanctuaries, and from the Archaic and Classical levels at Kato Syme. However, from the Minoan sanctuaries we have no examples of humanoids carrying 108

See, for example, MMR: 352 ff. In this case the term ‘human’ may be used legitimately, because identifying what they are doing in this case makes it clear that they are human, not divine (Dickison 2007 pers. comm.). 109

110

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See above, pp. 37-38.

these figurines at the peaks are the ultimate form of personal dedication, a votive rendering the individual worshipper that remained at the sanctuary in the absence of the depositor, creating an enchainment between individual and cult place. This accounts for their widespread presence at Minoan cult sites, but not for their absence at most cave sites which remains perplexing. At best we may conclude that a fundamental difference in ritual practice, reflected by the presence or absence of humanoid figurines, existed between the peaks and the caves.

south wall of the cult building was found a construction which contained earth and goats’ horns. It was interpreted as an altar, a keraton… Beside this construction there was a bench/table built of rough stones on which [my emphasis] were found some fragments of terracotta, at least three female heads from the seventh century, a bronze gorgoneion, pottery and some ashes and remains of bones. In front of the bench more bones and some terracotta objects were found” (Alroth, 1988: 200). It should also be noted that Dreros has been regarded as an example of “a living tradition from the Minoan period” (Ibid.).113 While I do not believe that this argument can be sustained, it nevertheless indicates that votive deposition and sacrifice may be practised in unison.

A further difference is exemplified by the deposition of ‘votive limbs’. While all of the peaks in this survey present evidence for the offering of modelled parts of the body as votives (if we count the ‘phalloi’ at Atsipadhes111) this should not be seen as an ubiquitous feature of the peak cult. Indeed Jones’ survey accounts for votive body parts from only 11 of 20 peak sanctuaries (Jones, 1999: 6). However, it is significant that even with this sporadic distribution they are more prevalent than faunal remains at this type of site. Their origin has been attributed to requests for healing, in a manner akin to the Classical practice, and this is seen to be the case especially in the example of the seated female figurine, with a massively swollen leg, from Traostalos (Fig. 59). Rutkowski (1986: 86) goes so far as to identify the ailments that this individual may have suffered from, namely liver cancer or elephantiasis. The fact that many of the examples of votive limbs have holes in them, seemingly for suspension, may suggest that they were either worn by individuals or that they were hung within the area of the sanctuary itself. The practice of hanging votives on walls or in trees is attested in the Classical period.112 The ‘medicinal’ quality of the votive limbs is one which I believe has been correctly identified; their presence at only some examples of the peaks is suggestive that only the deity at these sites was associated with healing. Indeed, even if the limbs are not associated with healing they are suggestive of a disparity of practice between the peaks. But crucially, for this study, they are indicative of another form of ritual process which is more consistently represented than animal sacrifice appears to be. The deposition of these votive figurines and body parts is undoubtedly on of the most widespread and important Minoan ritual practices. A cursory glance at the distribution, even for a non-academic, would make it undeniable that the practice of sacrifice was by no means as common in the ritual programme as the offering of figurines. However, one should not deny the possibility that votive deposition may be linked with sacrificial practices. This association has been noted in the case of the Geometric-Classical Apollon at Dreros: “On the 111

These ‘phalloi’ have been recently reinterpreted as arms by some Minoan scholars (Dickinson, 2006 pers. comm.). 112 For example, there are several references in the Greek Anthology to this custom (Alroth, 1988: 195), also votives may be deposited in water. See The Greek Anthology (Loeb Classical Library): VI, 106, 163; IX, 326).

113 Here Alroth is building on the work of Sp. Marinatos. See Marinatos, Sp. (1936), ‘Le temple géométrique de Dreros’, in BCH 60: 214-285.

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AGGREGATED VIEW: Distribution, Function, and Relative Significance of Sacrificial Ritual We are now in a position to take an aggregated view of Minoan ritual. As such the following sections attempt to draw together the strands of research from this dissertation to contextualise the rites of the Bronze Age, seeing various cult aspects in relation to one another, examining their relative significance, and possibly areas where they overlap and interact. Here sacrifice is discussed alongside other cult processes that have been previously studied in relation to the Minoan evidence, in order to place sacrifice within a cultic context. This section also draws more heavily on earlier scholarship on the subject of Minoan religion and attempts to correlate existing theories on this subject with the findings from the preceding chapters. Following discussions on the various aspects of ritual performance and context that have been previously proposed, this section also briefly attempts to account for the motivations behind the various rites in an effort to answer the fundamental question of ‘Why?’.

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GEOGRAPHICAL AND TEMPORAL VARIATION OF THE SACRIFICIAL REMAINS

Kato Syme and Juktas also appear to exhibit evidence of use by a similar variety of people. One of the most common points made about Juktas is its close association with Knossos, although some have associated it with Archanes. However, I would suggest that both associations are equally viable. I do not adhere to the belief that each major settlement was associated with its own peak sanctuary. The wealth of Juktas, as with Psychro, is suggestive of a wider significance on Minoan Crete. Kato Syme almost certainly enjoyed a similar panCretan importance. This feature of all three sites where we have incontrovertible evidence of Minoan faunal remains is interesting as a pan-Cretan significance accounts for the limited geographic distribution of this evidence.

The severely limited distribution of faunal remains, our key category of evidence, makes any attempt to identify a pattern – either geographic or temporal – somewhat haphazard and of limited use. However, this subject should be addressed, even if only for the sake of completeness. Map 2 plots those sites which have definite Minoan faunal remains, but also includes those which may contain Minoan faunal remains but at which the stratigraphy or excavation details make this ascription uncertain. One may offer the observation that the general distribution of these site – with the obvious exception of Traostalos – are scattered around the central area of the island. When we compare the distribution of these sites with the major settlements (also marked on Map 2), especially those with palaces, there is again little correlation between the two. Knossos may be linked via geographic proximity with both Juktas and Anemospilia (although the same may be said of Archanes), while Zakros is very close to Traostalos (but Zakros is very close to at least half a dozen peak sanctuaries).

However, in terms of the temporal variation of the deposits containing the faunal remains, there is a general correlation between these sites. At Juktas, the second layer which is dominated by faunal remains may be dated to MM IIA-LM IB; the animal bones from Kato Syme are associated with the central podium which dates to ca. MM IIB / LM IA; finally, at least some of the animal remains from Psychro may be placed within the MM III layers. Although there are earlier faunal remains found at Juktas, this MM II-LM boundary is the only period where we have animal bones at all three sites. Therefore, we may confidently speak of a development in the cult programme where, if sacrifice and rituals involving animals did not begin in this phase, they certainly seem to have become more significant. As a result, it may be interesting to see if other ritual and social changes occurred at this point and possibly may be linked with this process.

However, Psychro and Kato Syme are distant from most of the major settlements, the latter is particularly isolated. This would seem to imply, given the richness of both of these sites, that those who left votives and carried out ritual practices at these sites made a deliberate (and fairly long) journey to them in order to do so. On the current evidence we may then suggest, on the basis of no positive evidence to the contrary, that sacrificial rituals cannot be associated with the inhabitants of a single settlement or geographic area of Crete. Rather, it would appear as though the sites that exhibit convincing evidence for sacrificial rituals were used by the members of several communities, although perhaps not concurrently.

Of course, the major change at this time is the beginning of what is generally referred to as the Neopalatial phase.114 However, it would be incorrect to say that rituals involving animals, including possible sacrifices, did not begin until the Neopalatial phases. Yet it is true to say that there does appear to have been a major ritual reshuffle in this period. Various sites are abandoned, such as Atsipadhes, Gonies, Traostalos, Petsophas, and Anemospilia was destroyed in MM IIIA and not rebuilt; while others, such as Kato Syme and Kophinas seem to grow in importance. Similarly. After the Late Minoan period begins there is an increase in the number of urban shrines – the ‘Goddess with Upraised Arms’ shrines are a notable Late Minoan III development.

This would certainly seem to be the case at the cave of Psychro. In his recent re-examination of the pottery from Psychro, Watrous (2004) revealed that a marked change in the origins of the pottery occurred in LM IB-LM II (143-145). Prior to this period, since the cult foundations, the pottery in all its forms (of fine ware) was dominated by styles characteristic of Malia. However, after LM IB and up to LM III A2-B, Knossian fine ware dominates and Maliote ware is absent. Watrous links this to the downturn experienced by the Maliote palace at the end of LM IB and Knossos’ ascendancy in the following period. While it may be dangerous to associate fine ware styles with members of specific communities, such a marked difference in the pottery is suggestive of not only Knossos’ broadening influence but also of the importance of Psychro as a cult site to the inhabitants of at least the central area of the island. But it must be remembered that Psychro also had a huge number of simple offerings, such as conical cups containing food (Ibid. 144), which may be suggestive of a number of social classes using the same cult establishments.

114 Recent study has also led to the speculation that the term ‘Neopalatial’ may be overly simplistic. This argument is summarised by Day and Relaki (2002: 218-219) thus: “Treating it [the Neopalatial period] as a unitary division of time, in which a specific political system was dominant, is to do the complexity of the period an injustice. Our umbrella term covers a time of change at nearly every site, with the construction, destruction, intensive use and abandonment of major architectural complexes… Rather than the image of stability over time and place, we are thus faced with a picture of change”.

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Indeed, the LM III G.U.A. shrines, for example Gournia and Karphi in this study, would seem to be suggestive of an entirely new ritual setting. The paraphernalia of these shrines, in particular the G.U.A. figurines and associated ‘snake tubes’ have certainly not appeared before this period. Their appearance would seem to indicate a dramatic shift in the rationality and cosmology at work on Crete and, as a result, changes in the expression of this through ritual. For example, the snake tubes while they may have served as ornate pedestals, may also have been linked to the burning of intoxicants or hallucinogens. Thus it would seem that with the appearance of this class of shrine we may speak, with a degree of substantiation, about an end of ‘Palatial’ period cult, as they mark a change in cultic outlook. However, to return to the matter in question, while some, notably Peatfield (1987: 92-93), have seen this change of religious locales in the Neopalatial period as the exertion of palatial control over religion, especially in relation to the peaks which survive the period. Peatfield sees these sites as being intrinsically linked with specific palatial settlements. However, it has been noted (Dickinson, 1994a: 275) that there are gaps in Peatfield’s system – Dickinson gives the example of the Gulf of Mirabello area.

This leads to the matter that there must have been new developments on Crete that as yet have not been treated extensively by the Minoan specialists. It is true to say that the changes that mark the arrival of the Neopalatial period in MM III-LM, and develop further in subsequent LM I phases, have never been ‘pinned down’ as regards the precise nature of the processes at work. This is essentially due to “the complexity of Cretan Bronze Age societies, the fluidity and fragility of the structures, and the dynamic character of social and political developments” (Hamilakis, 2002b: 180). The two main hypotheses of previous scholarship have been diametrically opposed: the first, the ‘Knossocentric’ view, judged that the Neopalatial period is characterised by the development of Knossos as the leading centre of Crete, with an imposition of its power and culture on the rest of the island as a result. The alternative hypothesis speculates that a number of regional centres – Knossos, Malia, Phaistos, Zakros, Khania, etc. – were in direct competition with one another, each vying for control and supremacy. These two theories have been at the forefront of Neopalatial Minoan study, but both have fundamental flaws which have been recently noted by Hamilakis. The Knossocentric viewpoint fails to account for the possibility that “the relative homogeneity of material culture [across Minoan Crete]…need not necessarily imply the imposition of a certain style by a politically and administratively dominant centre, in this case Knossos” (Hamilakis, 2002b: 183). Similarly, the argument for competing regional centres is problematic as “the assumed notion of bounded and clearly defined territories is difficult to sustain” (Ibid. 184). Hamilakis also makes an interesting point regarding the approaches taken toward the material thus far: “A key misunderstanding that runs through this debate is the implicit or explicit equation of settlement hierarchies…to administrative/political hierarchies” (Ibid. 185).

It is significant, in my opinion, that even in this period of so-called ‘palatial control’ of religion – from which most of the urban shrines in this catalogue come – there is no evidence for possible sacrificial rituals from these palatial and urban shrines. It would be unlikely, I feel, if sacrifice had been directly related to the palaces and the palace cult for us not to find the remains of such rituals within the palaces themselves. Therefore, I cannot see that the sacrificial remains of Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme are associated with the expanding influences of the palaces, at least directly. However, if the palatial influence did limit the number of extramural cult sites, for whatever reasons, then this might explain why Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme grew in importance and have a much longer history of cult use.115

To some extent this is true, as the focus on the material culture has led to a pattern of dehumanisation of Minoan archaeology, where the institutions have almost been removed from human agency. I note below, in relation to feasting rituals,116 that the make-up of those groups who took part in these rituals is one of the most difficult aspects of the ritual to distinguish from the archaeological material alone. A similar problem is also associated with those groups who utilise the communal tomb structures. The traditional views of kinship-based or settlement-based groups fails to account for the possibility of human and social dynamism. Hamilakis (2002b) expounds a new interpretative method for approaching the evidence based on precisely these concepts, that of ‘factionalism’. Although he makes no attempt to define these hypothetical factions, his essay is very interesting from the standpoint of re-interpreting the evidence along a new theoretical framework. Hamilakis’ theory may be seen as a legitimate development of the “competing centres”

Moreover, one cannot attribute an apparent increase in the significance of sacrifice to foreign influence. The supposed Mycenaeanisation of Crete, even though the precise process is unclear, did not occur until Late Minoan II-IIIA (Dickinson, 1996: 66) and, as such, we cannot ascribe the sacrificial evidence to an increasing Mycenaean influence, even though the mainland culture has more abundant faunal remains in its sanctuaries. Even if we could view a focus on rituals involving animals as being the result of foreign influence, this would not be a sufficient explanation: “influence is not like influenza” (Ibid. 67). The fact that we have faunal remains at cult sites from much earlier than even the MM-LM boundary means that we are dealing with an existing Minoan practice that seems to experience something of a renaissance. 115 Of course, there must have been a reason for the continuance of these particular sites, but an explanation for this is not within the remit of this study.

116

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See below, pp. 93-95 (esp. 93).

theory, especially in his discussion of the palaces and palatial structures which he suggests “may have operated as the bases of factions of different size, and social/political influence” (Ibid. 188). The notion of factions does move us in the right direction of reestablishing the importance of human agency, as well as allowing for not only intra-site variation but also intersite connections. This theory also accounts for the relative homogeneity of the material culture, as Hamilakis notes that factions within the same broader cultural group share the same “symbolic vocabulary” (Ibid. 186), thus “a certain degree of homogeneity is required for the messages to be comprehensible” (Ibid. 183). This hypothesis of factional competition includes the notion of “claims to supernatural links, to ancestral power, to the possession of exotic geographical and cosmological knowledge” (Ibid. 188), although this aspect of legitimating secular authority through supernatural associations may equally be applied to the ‘competing polities’ model. However, this shared symbolic vocabulary has direct import to the current study. The very fact that we have evidence for a diminished number of ritual sites, plus the limited distribution of ritual faunal remains at only Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme, would, in my opinion, seem to suggest that those sites where faunal remains do occur were utilised by several different groups. Each of these sites seems to have a significance beyond its immediate locality, which would fit rather well with the ‘factional’ hypothesis of groups competing for symbolic authority. For this reason, I have become drawn to an explanation for the faunal remains that is not primarily sacrificial in nature. By this I mean that the offering of a victim, or parts thereof, to a supernatural power was not the primary purpose of those rituals practised at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme. If this were the primary intention of the ritual one would imagine the practice to be much more widespread than it actually appears to be, including smaller scale rites at the palatial and urban shrines. However, this is simply not the case. Therefore, I would suggest117 that the focus of the rituals at these three sites is perhaps not sacrifice, but rather commensality.

117

As will be discussed below.

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sacral and caudal vertebrae were recovered. Here we clearly have an archaeological corroboration of the θυσία ritual where the remains found clearly correspond with the μηρία. In terms of the second alternative, that of commemoration, there is considerable evidence from the Mycenaean palace of Pylos. Here six groups of bone deposits were found around the palace (Fig. 60). The bones were burnt, bore knife marks, and consisted of humerus, femur, and mandible elements. The bones were mainly those of cattle (5-11 head per deposit) with parts of a single deer in two of the groups. This would seem to be the deliberate retention of certain skeletal elements as a means of commemorating specific rites.

MINOAN SACRIFICE Having identified faunal remains of a sufficient quantity and firmly associated with the Minoan period at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme, we must address the origin of these remains. In other words, if the remains at the sites are those from sacrifices. In general, those who discuss the faunal remains, the archaeological ‘smoking gun’ for the use of animals at cult sites, have divided themselves into two basic categories: those who feel that they are derived from sacrifices and others who believe they are from ceremonial feasts. It is notoriously difficult to differentiate between these two practices on the basis of the bone evidence alone. Equally, it is perhaps a mistake to see them as separate entities at all, as it is easy for the two processes to be complementary. However, let us begin with a formal discussion of the remains in relation to sacrifice alone.

I believe that this latter explanation is better suited to the Minoan evidence, as the cranial elements do seem to have been deliberately selected for retention, thus strongly indicating that structured deposition is at play in relation to these deposits. This is evocative of the cult model from Kotchati (Fig. 61), dating to the Middle Bronze Age, which seems to represent the mounting of animal skulls and horns around a sanctuary. It is noticeable that they are modelled differently from one another, suggesting animals of different species and ages. As the majority of the faunal remains also date to the Middle and early Late Minoan periods, this is perhaps suggestive of a similarity of purpose and that the skulls of the animals were deposited within the sanctuary boundaries as a means of commemoration.

In most cultures, and in western scholarship, sacrifice is seen as the pre-eminent and most potent religious rite, certainly its primacy may be observed in the Bronze Age Near East and in Classical Greece. However, in both of these examples the evidence is far more widespread and commonly occurring than it appears to be in Minoan Crete. In terms of the textual context for the possibility of Minoan sacrifice we are rather limited. The Linear B tablets from Knossos suggest that some form of ritualised slaughter of animals did take place: in one example, C(2) 941 + 1016 + fr., animals are explicitly designated as sapa-ke-te-ri-ja, literally “animals for ritual slaughter” (Palaima, 2004: 225). Likewise Halstead has estimated that 1439 animals appear in texts relating to consumption (Halstead, 2002: 152-153; 158-159; 163-165), although not all of these are related to ritual contexts. However, the amount of bone found at the sites suggests that the number of animals killed, or at least had parts of them offered, at the sites was quite low. Moreover, it is difficult to reconcile periodic cleaning of the sites with the deliberate deposition of the skeletal elements, which seems to have been the practice with the cranial elements at least. Certainly in Classical Greece the selective disposal of bones from sacrifices seems to have been unusual, generally they were swept from the altars and became part of the general refuse of the sanctuary (Stocker and Davis, 2004: 183).

The significance of the cranial elements is also observable beyond Crete itself. A recently excavated deposit from Akrotiri on Thera is interesting additional evidence for this practice. To the southwest of Xesté 3, within a layer of pumice, a pile of animal horns – again primarily from goats – was found near a small clay larnax containing a small golden animal figurine, perhaps of a goat or an agrimi (Arch. Reports, 1999-2000: 122). This is suggestive of the symbolic significance attached to the skull and horns of the animal spreading beyond Crete, as the deposit from Akrotiri certainly seems to have a ritual or commemorative quality. It should also be noted that a similar tendency for attaching importance to cranial elements is observable in other cultures. Archaezoological evidence is available from several sites, e.g. Karlstein/Langacker and Auerberg/Schongau in Bavaria and Piller Sattel in Austria, which reveals that the selection patterns are similar to Greek and Minoan sites in terms of species offered (mainly cattle and ovicaprids, sometimes also pigs), but differ strongly from the former in terms of the predominant skeletal elements. The findings from Alpine ‘burnt offering sites’ feature a sacrificial tradition in which bovine heads and autopodial elements are preferred for burning (Forstenpointner, 2003: 204). Although the process is different from the Minoan ritual, this does provide extra-cultural context that the cranial elements may be seen as legitimate ritual markers.

The particular skeletal elements commonly reported from Juktas and Kato Syme are dominated by cranial elements, likewise at Psychro there are skulls and hornplates. This is suggestive: although they may be the result of primary butchery, they may also have been either the portion of the victim allocated to the deity, or a portion set up as a commemoration of the rite. There are examples of both practices in the ancient world: the excavation of the Geometric sacrificial altar of the temple of Apollo Daphnephoros in Eretria revealed over 400 bone fragments from a 7m x 6m excavation area (Chenal-Velarde and Studer, 2003). They were almost exclusively from caprids, and only femurs, patellae, and

This, however, does not necessarily mean that the rituals being commemorated were sacrificial. While sacrifice 82

and feasting may create similar traces on the bones themselves, such as fine incisions on the long bone epiphyses, resulting from disarticulation, and long marks on the diaphyses, probably from filleting, other archaeological and architectural features may be our best means of differentiating between the two rituals. One of the more obvious of these is the altar structure which many cultures use as a location for sacrifice.

rectangular niche at its back accommodating a threestepped altar construction inside (Arch. Reports, 20032004: 79). On the steps of this structure are a number of projections that seem to represent offerings. It should be obvious that this structure is reminiscent of that within the East Room at Anemospilia and, also, the stepped construction depicted on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus. Thus our best evidence on Minoan altars seems to reinforce their depositional function above all other concerns.

Interestingly, in the cases of both Juktas and Psychro we have animal bones in association with structures that have commonly been seen as altars. Kato Syme, although not possessing a structure which may be classified as an architectural altar, did contain a large central podium which may have served a similar function. Certainly the deposits containing the bucrania were linked with this structure, with an implication that the two are symbolically connected. Although the use of an altar is not a prerequisite for sacrifice,118 their presence (in some form) at all three sites with extensive faunal remains is suggestive of their employment in the rituals that produced said faunal remains.

This observation on the function of the altar structures leads to a further observation on the nature of the rites that seem to have been performed at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme. Our lack of many skeletal elements, especially certain long bones and ribs, may be suggestive of one of two possible aspects of these Minoan rituals. The first possibility is that the killing and dismemberment was done off-site and that only certain elements of the animal were brought to the cult place. The second possibility is that the victim was jointed on site and distributed among the assembled host for them to take away. This commensal quality of certain sacrificial rituals is well known; for example, in Classical Athens it has been argued that the deme sacrifices were a primary means of allowing the populace access to meat. A similar process of meat distribution may have occurred on Minoan Crete and such a process would account for the limited skeletal remains found at the sites. This may also account for the types of bones that remain at the cult sites, as the skull in particular is not easily jointed and would be too cumbersome to be carried away from the extra-urban sanctuaries.

However, and this is crucial, this does not extend to entailing that all altars are sacrificial in nature; an altar at a site without animal bones can not be viewed as a sacrificial altar. Furthermore, the function of the structures at Juktas and Psychro is not certain. To simply say that they may possibly be sacrificial altars is insufficient as this does not specify how they were utilised. The lack of burning or charring of these structures confirms that these are not altars for burnt sacrifices. This marks the Minoan rite as being fundamentally different from the Classical θυσία ritual, a situation that was already suggested by the fact that the skeletal elements that make up the μηρία (the osphus etc.) of the Classical ritual are starkly different to the cranial elements which tend to dominate the Minoan faunal deposits. Moreover, it cannot be confirmed if the killing or dismemberment of the victim took place on these altars, although the structure at Psychro would seem to be unsuitable for this purpose. It should be remembered that, in the greater majority of the iconographic representations that have been seen as sacrifices, the victim is nearly always seen upon a tablelike structure, of which an archaeological example has never been found, that does not conform to any of the structures at Juktas, Psychro, or Kato Syme.

Although such a practical solution accounts rather elegantly for the disparate faunal deposits it must be remembered that this is highly conjectural and that it may be rather dubious to use secular expediency to account for ritual remains. However, I feel that this is a reasonable solution to the difficulties surrounding the Minoan faunal remains. Certainly a similar situation surrounds the θυσία ritual where the paucity of the μηρία, the gods’ portion, is accounted for through the myth of the Promethean sacrifice and the later Homeric development of it (Theog. 540-541; Il. i.460-461; Il. ii.423-424). Of course, as myth – like religion – is a construction of human thought, then this justification is decidedly subjective. However, to speak of mythology in relation to the Minoans is without relevance as we have no idea if there was a corpus of Minoan mythological tales which may have influenced their ritual practices.

In truth, Minoan altars in general seem to have been depositional and designed for display rather than as a place for the killing of the victim.119 This view, that the Minoan altars have a depositional function, is nicely exemplified by the sanctuary model from the peak sanctuary on the Kephala hill near Liliano. Here a rectangular Π-shaped model was found, with a

Nevertheless, Crete does feature very heavily in Greek mythology and, in many cases, the Cretans are associated with quite bloodthirsty legends. The obvious example would be that of Minos’ demand of a tribute of seven youths and seven maidens to be sent to Crete from Athens, either annually or every nine years, as offerings of food for the Minotaur to pay for the death of Minos’ son, Androgeos, at Athens. This association of the Cretans with rather vicious ritual practices extends well beyond the Classical period. As late as the fourth century

118

See the discussion of the Scythian practices, p. 67. Similarly the Classical Greek victims were not killed upon the altars, merely beside them The victims’ blood was then daubed across them, and the μηρία burnt upon them. Thus the Classical altars could also be described as being designed for display, at least in part. 119

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A.D. Firmicus Maternus, in his pamphlet On the Error of Profane Religions, condemns the custom practised by Cretans of tearing a live bull apart with their teeth (Detienne, 1989: 2). However, this church polemic cannot be readily relied upon as an accurate source. Nevertheless, the association of the Cretans’ ‘bloodthirstiness’ was persistent in antiquity, with even Homer mentioning the matter. Similarly, Epimenides describes the Cretans as “κακα θηρία, γαστερες αργαι”, “evil wild beasts, lazy bellies.” Typically the γαστηρ represents the ardent, bestial, and wild side of man, thus the description is hardly a positive one.

“The purpose of food and drink offering is primarily alimentation of the deity. Animal sacrifice and burnt offering correspond to two basic features of Yahwism. The former strengthens and renews the communion between Yahweh and his worshippers, who at a cultic banquet devour the sacrifice from which Yahweh also receives his portion. The latter is simply a sacrifice of homage, expressing recognition of Yahweh’s dominion over his worshippers.” (Fohrer, 1973: 116) It is interesting that, in his 1995 study of sacrificial iconography from Greece, Folkert Van Straten draws a similar distinction between rites, primarily based on the treatment of the meat. He differentiates between two types of sacrifice: sacrifices whereonly certain parts of the animal were burnt for the gods and most of the meat was consumed by human participants, and sacrifices during which the entire animal was destroyed and nothing was eaten (Hierà Kalá). However, Henrichs (2005: 50) does make the point that Van Straten does not differentiate between the rituals on any other level.

Yet, this recurring feature of Greek mythology does not entail that sacrificial and bloody rituals were prevalent on ancient Crete, let alone during the Bronze Age, but the persistence of the association is interesting. However, returning to the Minoan faunal remains themselves, as these are of continuing significance in the reconstruction of the ritual processes. Sheep and goats, which are very difficult to distinguish from one another morphologically, tend to dominate the faunal assemblages from Minoan sites and the three cult sites here are certainly no exception. However, there is no evidence to suggest the number of individual animals required for each ritual occasion, as it is necessary to remember that the faunal remains may not all result from the same ritual processes.120 Equally, the matter of whether single or multiple animals were killed on each occasion is still undecided, although multiple offerings dominate in the practices of the contemporary cultures of the Bronze Age.

However, a similar distinction may also be made with the Minoan evidence; but not between rites, but rather between the presence and absence of rites, as on Bronze Age Crete there is an absence of evidence for so-called holocaust offerings. It should be remembered that the majority of animal bone from Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme is neither calcined nor burned to any great degree, which is indicative that the animal was not entirely burned away and that the bones were not burned after the flesh was removed. Yet it must also be remembered that some burning may be so thorough that only the crania, phalanges, and metapoidals survive.121 The presence of ash deposits at these three sites attests to the use of fire, but the presence of ash deposits at sites where we categorically have no evidence of animal bones entails that we may not exclusively tie fire in with Minoan sacrificial practices. Thus I believe that there is sufficient evidence to suggest that entirely burnt animal offerings were not a feature of Minoan religious practices. They certainly do not feature in the iconographic record, nor are they sufficiently archaeologically validated to state that they occurred. Thus in the light of no positive evidence for them it is best to say that they were not practised.

The depiction on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus, whether it is one of sacrifice or not, is perhaps the most striking image as it clearly shows the bull on the table with two goat-like animals beneath the table, which are usually interpreted as being additional victims. It is interesting to note that this arrangement of multiple victims, with multiple ovicaprids to single bovids, would not only account for the dominance of ovicaprids in the archaeological record, but also the pre-eminence of bovids in the iconographic record. While this statement is speculative, it would nevertheless account neatly for the seeming disparity between the iconography and the zooarchaeology. Of course, the animal remains discussed from the three Minoan sites have been treated thus far in terms of their origin as being sacrificial victims. However, this is only one possibility. The fundamental question, which cannot be answered at the moment as regards the Minoan evidence, is whether the supposed invoked deity was thought to gain some sustenance or benefit from the sacrifice. This is a key concept in the sacrificial practices of most cultures, that the sacrifice sustains the deity. This is most clearly stated in relation to Israelite religion:

Therefore, we seem to be moving toward a narrower definition of Minoan sacrifice. It would appear, from the faunal remains, that we are dealing with a primarily commensal rite that took place at a few special sites. This is a starkly different picture to that generally proposed for Bronze Age Crete, where sacrifice is seen as being common and widespread. Similarly the commensality is not usually stressed, but surely the communal element is at the forefront as animal remains are utterly absent from the smaller scale urban shrines. This would seem to suggest that the sacrificial remains may well be the remains of commensal rituals.

120 See below, pp. 88-92, for a discussion of the range of possible ritual motives and a summary of the range of species offered in sacrifice in the Bronze Age Near East.

121

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See above, p. 18.

However, there is a problem here – that of the difference between ceremonial feasting and sacrificial practices.122 For the moment, let it suffice to say that the absence of certain skeletal elements, in my opinion, would seem to suggest that certain cuts of the animal were removed from the site before they were consumed. A similar interpretation was proposed for the Mycenaean site of Nemea-Tsoungiza by Halstead (2003). This site included a Mycenaean dump containing large numbers of cups, bowls, and figurines, which may represent ‘official’ (i.e. palatial) cult activity at a small rural shrine. Here the faunal remains are dominated by “‘waste’ portions of cattle skeletons” (Halstead, 2003: 259), from which Halstead infers that the animals were sacrificed and the meaty parts of the carcass then distributed to participants, possibly for consumption at home (Ibid.). Therefore, while the commensality of the ritual practice comes with the distribution of the victim(s), this does not preclude the fact that the moment of dispatching the victim, the kill, may have been seen as symbolically sacrificial in nature.

textual evidence to suggest the use of specific tools. Pylos tablet Ta 716 lists “two ceremonial gold bridle rings and chains by which key animals would have been led to the point of sacrifice, two stunning axes to be used in the slaughtering ritual, and two sharp sacrificial knives to slit the throats of the animals” (Palaima, 2004: 236), which indicates a probable Mycenaean antecedent for the Classical pelekus. But Mycenaean is different to Minoan, and to assume a parity of practice between the two cultures without a sound archaeological basis in both areas is unwise. It is noteworthy that the majority of skull horn-plates which have been recovered from the Minoan cult sites do not exhibit any impact fracturing, this is certainly true of the examples from Psychro (Fig. 62). This suggests that if the animal were struck with a stunning blow it was not delivered to the front of the front of the skull, as is the case in modern western butchery. However, in the Homeric tradition the stunning blow was struck to the neck of the animal (Od. iii. 504). Unfortunately, without the specific study of the atlases and cervical vertebrae of the animals, which are not frequently reported from Minoan cult sites, such a practice is not confirmed for the Bronze Age of Crete. Nevertheless, with future study and the careful recovery of these key skeletal elements, this picture may change, but for the moment, on the evidence currently available, I would suggest that the double-axe did not play a role in the sacrificial practices of Minoan Crete in the capacity of a functional device.

The symbolic potency of the moment of death is typical of most sacrificial practices, hence why they are often glorified and embellished as a means of emphasising this quality. If we may speak of a grandiose quality to the killing of the animals whose remains are found at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme, then we may move more towards sacrifice than feasting as an explanation for their origins. This is an area that has often been addressed in previous scholarship on Minoan religion, typically focussing on the subject of the double-axe.

Iconography is of little help in identifying the idiosyncrasies of the killing of the animal because, as was mentioned earlier, the moment of the kill is never depicted, and so it is very difficult to speak on this matter with any degree of certainty.

While the double-axe does appear at Juktas, and in some quantities, their occurrence does not seem to be in direct association with the animal bones. Firstly the majority of the examples are either too small or flimsy to have served as functional sacrificial weapons. Secondly, the doubleaxes were found together at Juktas in a deposit that seems more reminiscent of a hoard, as at Arkalochori or indeed at Psychro. In this latter case, although we have doubleaxes at a site where we also have animal bones, again there is no clear connection between the two. For while the double-axes were found in Psychro’s lower grotto, the faunal remains are only found in the upper grotto. In actuality we have no convincing evidence for a definite sacrificial weapon at any of the Minoan cult sites: the sword from salle β was not associated with any faunal remains; the mass of weaponry from Arkalochori was also disassociated from any animal bones; but perhaps the best example of the disassociation between weaponry and faunal remains is at Kophinas where dozens of bronze knives, perhaps the most suitable of weapons/tools for killing and jointing a victim, are found at a site where there is an absolute absence of faunal remains.

In addition to the double-axe, a further Minoan artefact and symbol that has become commonly associated with sacrifice is the ‘horns of consecration’. The distribution of the physical renderings, in stone, plaster, or ceramic, of this symbol is decidedly sporadic. Although they occur at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme, they also appear at sites such as Vrysinas, Gournia, and the Shrine of the Double Axes, where there are no faunal remains whatsoever. In total they occur at only 8 of the 20 sites in this survey and, as a result, are far from being a defining feature of a Minoan cult site, or a symbol defining a sacrificial site. This distribution is difficult to reconcile with the occurrences of ‘horns of consecration’ in iconography, such as on the Grandstand Fresco or on the Zakros Rhyton, where the symbol tends to dominate the structures by sheer repetition as an adornment atop most walls. At no known Minoan cult site do ‘horns of consecration’ occur in such numbers; while this may be the result of destruction, the robbing of building material, and other forces that act upon the archaeological record, even the artefactual versions of the symbol from the cult sites appear in very small numbers. At the moment I can see no way of addressing this discrepancy and can offer no explanation for it. Thus for the moment I am forced to conclude that the symbolic importance of the ‘horns of

In short, we have little to no archaeological evidence to link any form of weaponry with Minoan sacrificial practices. However, from Mycenaean Pylos there is 122

See below, pp. 93-95.

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consecration’ symbol to the Minoans themselves can not be ascertained, though it may well be that its significance has been somewhat overestimated in earlier scholarship.

but the absence of faunal remains from any other site makes the discussion of blood libation at those sites entirely conjectural.

As a final point on the matter of Minoan sacrifice, I would like to link this ritual process to that of libation. I would suggest that we do have enough circumstantial evidence to suggest that the use of animal blood was a significant and symbolically potent aspect of Minoan ritual. Just as feasting and sacrifice have been seen as separate ritual entities, a similar pattern has been assumed for libation and sacrifice, whereas I believe that the two practices may have been fundamentally linked. We have certainly seen that the majority of Minoan cult sites seem to have been well equipped for rituals involving liquids, but questions remain over the liquids that were employed in these ceremonies. I would suggest that at least some of these libations were of blood, particularly at the three sites we are focussed on in this section. The Ayia Triada sarcophagus quite overtly shows the deliberate collection of blood from an animal, by means of a puncture wound to the neck. Similarly Marinatos (1986) includes several seal images in which an animal is seen with a puncture wound to the neck (Fig. 63). Although in none of the examples she provides do we see the blood being collected, this may have something to do with the syncopated style of depiction used on the seals, under the principle of pars per toto, although one of the seals does have a pouring vessel on the opposite side to the stricken animal (Fig. 64).

Therefore, we have reached the point where we may begin to conclude about Minoan sacrifice in terms of its actual performance. Firstly, even if all the faunal remains found at Minoan cult sites derive from sacrificial rituals (a point that cannot be proved convincingly at the moment) their distribution in confirmed Minoan layers is extremely limited. Indeed, even if all the sites with animal bone in any context were included this would still make the total number less than half of the sites included in the catalogue. Thus we appear to be dealing with sporadic and isolated rituals at certain special(ist) sites, the origin and purpose of which we may only speculate about.125 However, we may suggest that when these rites were performed they were significant, hence the preservation of ‘attention focussing’ skeletal elements and the prevalence of sacrificial imagery in the iconographic record. Secondly, that it appears to have been a communal and commensal ritual, as it occurs at the larger sites where greater numbers of people could have gathered. Thus, I would suggest that participation in sacrificial rites, i.e. in the assembled group, was not the domain of a privileged few, but was open to the wider population of Bronze Age Crete. Thirdly, that ovicaprids are the most common animal remains found at these few cult sites, in contrast to the iconography where bovids dominate. Finally, that the process of the ceremony is, at the moment, unknown: that sacrificial weaponry, methodology, and purpose may only be discussed in a speculative and largely uncorroborated manner.

This draining of the blood may have several motivations behind it, not least the simple preparation of meat. In most cultures that still butcher their own freshly killed meat, primarily now hunter-gatherers, the carcasses are drained of their blood prior to dismemberment, some allowing it to drain away, others utilising it as an additional (and usually symbolic) foodstuff. In a similar vein the ancient Hebrews were (and indeed still are) characterised by their cultural concept of kosher foodstuffs, an aspect of which was the deliberate and total draining and cleansing of the carcass of blood. However, the iconography and archaeology of Bronze Age Crete are suggestive that the draining of the blood had ritual overtones and was one of the initial steps of this process rather than an end in itself. Again the Ayia Triada sarcophagus, acknowledging the issues surrounding the artefact outlined above,123 would seem to show the blood that has been collected from the animal being poured into a much larger container. Thus, in this case, I would suggest that it is this libation of blood that is the most significant aspect of this ritual process. There are several archaeological features from various Minoan cult sites that also attest to the importance of these liquid offerings124 and the possibility exists at Juktas, Petsophas, and Kato Syme that at least some of these pouring rituals could have been of blood from animals. This is, of course, possible at other sites as well, 123 124

See above, pp. 15-16. See above, pp. 72-75.

125

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See below, pp. 88-92.

Babylonian and West Semitic religious beliefs and practices, specifically sacrificial rituals (Klenck, 2002: 81). In both areas, rituals served to propitiate or commemorate the actions of a deity. The motives for sacrifice as recorded in the Ugaritic, Mesoptamian, and Israelite texts, were similar. Sacrifices were conducted to provide tribute (i.e. first fruits and tithe offerings), to show thanks, to sustain the gods through periodic, continual, and scheduled offerings, for communion, to expiate sin, and to purify.

THE PURPOSE OF RITES AND THE PURPOSE OF SITES Having established that rituals involving animals, which may have contained a sacrificial element, were apparently current in Minoan Crete, although in far more isolated and specialised contexts than has been previously believed, we must address the motivation behind these rites: the fundamental question, “Why?.” In relation to this question is the matter of the significance of the specific sites where sacrifice appears to have occurred. As noted earlier, it is very interesting that these sites, Juktas, Psychro , and Kato Syme, are of different types – a peak, a cave, and an extra-urban sanctuary. This may be suggestive of several things: differences between the powers invoked, differences between the purposes of the rites, or differences between the people involved in the rites at these various locations, are perhaps the main aspects to be considered as these are probably the most archaeologically apparent.

However, several major differences exist between the actual Mesopotamian and Western Semitic religious practices, and this must be borne in mind when comparing the near Eastern practices with those of the Aegean. Although, in Mesopotamia, the public supported the construction and maintenance of the temples, only the priests, royal family, and highest officials were allowed to worship on the grounds of the main temple of a city. Most textual evidence from Mesopotamia provides detailed descriptions of this exclusive worship while the worship of the common people is barely known (Lambert, 1993: 193). It has been speculated that public sacrificial rituals occurred on those occasions when the images of the gods were taken from shrines and temples and carried around the countryside (Postgate, 1992: 123124).126 These occasions appear to have coincided with religious festivals or the consecration of new sanctuaries. By contrast, in Western Semitic religions both royalty and commoners worshipped in the main temples and were expected to offer sacrifices according to their economic means and status (Ottosson, 1988: 136). By comparison, we can say comparatively little regarding the access to the various modes of worship within Minoan Crete, especially due to the fact that we know so little about the social hierarchy in place on Bronze Age Crete. However, given the apparent lack of cult images we may speculate that public festivals involving the procession of divine images, such as took place in Mesopotamia, are unlikely to have occurred.

In general terms, sacrifice has been seen as the consecration of a victim for the impeachment of a power for the benefit of the sacrifier (Hubert and Mauss, 1964: 13). However, in normal practise, specific sacrifices, each performed with slight variations to the ‘basic’ ceremony, were performed in order to achieve specific ends. The variations which characterise these rites may include variations of personnel, victim, associated offerings, location, and time. At this point I believe it would be useful to examine the practices of the Near East, reported by both literary and archaeological sources, in order to contextualise, within the wider Bronze Age, the level of variation possible in the Minoan practices and also to provide some possible interpretative suggestions for the Minoan rites. For there is almost certainly to have been a commonality of intention, as has been observed: “many of their basic preoccupations would have remained the same, and should have been reflected by similarities in their religious beliefs” (Dickinson, 1994a: 258).

Offerings and sacrificial animal victims were viewed in the Sumero-Babylonian religion as being of vital importance since these foodstuffs were ‘fed’ to the deities (Hallo, 1987: 9, 10). Offerings of meat, water, beer, wine, milk, honey, emmer flour, fish cakes, and lard cakes, were piled on trays, prepared and placed before the divine statues every morning and evening. The liquids were either served in cups or poured in sacred channels for liquid offerings within the temenos (Postgate, 1992: 119-120; Lambert, 1993: 194-195). Later, this food was consumed by the priests, temple staff, and other citizens (Lambert, 1993: 200). In Western Semitic religions, sacrifices were generally not consumed per se by the deity but acknowledged by the god or goddess as a request to act in the earthly realm (Klenck, 2002: 81).

If we examine the Near Eastern ritual assemblages, which have been more extensively studied and have the benefit of having an associated textual archive, then we may be able to better contextualise the Minoan assemblages. Although this form of ethnographic analogy has been somewhat frowned on in recent years, not least by myself in this study in relation to the assumptions about a Bronze Age antecedent of the θυσία rite, I feel it still has a place in modern archaeology. As Ucko said: “The primary use of ethnographic parallels…is simple. It is to widen the horizons of the interpreter…” (1969: 262). However, it must be used carefully; it is unwise in the extreme to simply transpose one culture’s ritual tendencies and motivations onto another, but it is logical to assume a parity of purpose, if not process, between the cultures of the Near East and the Aegean during the Bronze Age. Administrative records dating to the second and first millennium B.C. have revealed much about Sumero-

126 A good modern equivalent of this form of religious practice would be the occasion of the Hindu Jugurnata festival.

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In Mesopotamian religion, divination was a primary motivation for the sacrifice of animals as it was believed that omens were wrought into the physical characteristics of the victim, its behaviour, and that of the butcherdiviner, and the location and composition of the victim’s remains, especially the intestines and major organs. Divination rituals are mentioned so frequently in the Mesopotamian textual evidence, much more so than in the Western Semitic tradition, that Leichty inquires, “Could a supplicant offer a victim to the gods without taking omens?” (Leichty, 1993: 241).

healing rituals. This association covers several cultures and periods from the Hittites (Klenck, 2002: 85), who employed puppies in apotropaic and healing rituals, to the Persian period (538-332 B.C.), where, at Ashkelon, excavations revealed the interment of over 1000 canids on the tel. It has been hypothesised that this was a deposit associated with the goddess of healing, Tanit, as several of her symbols were found on objects within the stratum of the dog burials (Stager, 1991: 37). The association of dogs with healing deities is widespread during the first millennium B.C., revealing the longevity of this association: Gula/Ninisima in Mesopotamia; Asklepios in Greece; Eshnun in Phoenicia; and Reseph and Mukul in Phoenician Cyprus (Klenck, 2002: 84).

Finally, healing was also a major motivating factor for religious rituals in both the Mesopotamian and Western Semitic traditions. Healing rituals were either practised as part of a large ritual repertoire or in a shrine specifically dedicated to this function. Thus we can see that populations in the Levant and Mesopotamia conducted sacrificial rituals for four principal reasons: to propitiate a deity, to commemorate the actions of a deity (both of these took the form of the feeding of the divine image), to forecast the future, and to heal the sick. Even this rather simplified series of motives is indicative that one cannot simply see a sacrifice as a gift to the deity – ultimately the sacrifice is a selfish ritual, with the sacrifier hoping for benefit and entreating the deity accordingly.

By contrast, for the divination rituals, the normal victim in the Near East seems to have been cattle or bulls. The same is also true for the rituals of a commemorative nature. The reasoning for this association, while it may have a basis in the economic worth of these animals, is surely cultural and again speaks to the importance of such concerns in the ritual practices of a particular people and area. Moreover, it is also important to remember that the perception of animals within a culture may not be consistent over time. One very interesting example of this is the case of pigs in ancient Egypt. In terms of ritual use, the pig has a mixed history: although in the early dynasties of the Old Kingdom the pig was a frequent sacrificial victim, after the appearance of the Coffin Texts (ca. 2150-1650 B.C.) the pig becomes associated with Seth and, certainly in the New Kingdom, is somewhat belittled in religious terms (Simoons, 1994: 20). Similarly in the Hittite scheme, although the pig was suitable for magical, purificatory, and apotropaic rituals, it was not among the usual sacrificial victims.

Therefore, as there are a variety of reasons for performing sacrificial rituals, it may also be possible that certain species are utilised for specific purposes. However, it is here that cultural concerns and preconceptions override everything else; the best example of this notion of cultural dogma is found in the Israelite taboos. From Biblical evidence, specifically that of Leviticus, it is clear that the Israelites considered various animals as unclean and, as such, unsuitable as offerings. The several examples of this belief include: crows – which could not be eaten, nor their dead bodies touched (Lev. 11:15); dogs (Lev. 11:2-3; 27); pigs – which were prohibited as sacrificial victims (Lev. 11: 7); and deer and gazelle which, though considered clean, could not be offered in sacrifice (Lev. 17). These preconceptions would account for the absence of these taxa from any ritual faunal assemblages, however without the text we would not know that they were unsuitable for cultural reasons.127

Of course, it must be remembered that the scale of these sacrificial offerings is much greater in the Near East than is observable in Minoan Crete. For example, Pritchard (1964: 343-5) includes an Akkadian text on the daily sacrifices to the gods of the city of Uruk, part of which summarises the animal offerings as follows: “The daily total, throughout the year, for the four meals per day: twenty-one first class, fat, clean rams which have been fed barley for two years; two large bulls; one milk-fed bullock; eight lambs; thirty marratu birds; thirty…-birds; three cranes which have been fed…grain; five ducks which have been fed…-flour; two ducks of a lower quality than those just mentioned; four wild boars; three ostrich eggs; three duck eggs.”

By contrast, the Mesopotamian texts reveal no such major prohibitions,128 rather they appear to have utilised specific taxa for specific ritual purposes. For example, dogs appear to have been primarily associated with

When we bear in mind that this is the list of offerings for only one temple, in one city, and for one day, we begin to appreciate the sheer scale of the offerings that were made in the Near Eastern regions. It should be immediately apparent that, in terms of both quantity and variety of offerings, we have nothing that comes close to approximating this mass of material, even if we were to assume the frequent mass clearing of cult sites.

127 Despite the Levitican text detailing which animals are unsuitable, we still do not know why these particular species were unsuitable. However, it is true to say that these proscriptions were adhered to strictly. 128 This is generally true, although food taboos do not seem to have played a major role in society, there were occasional proscriptions. For example, while pigs seem to have been an everyday foodstuff for the Sumerians, swine were not slaughtered during the month of Teshrītum, the seventh month of the year, and pork was specifically banned on the second and fifth days of that month (Simoons, 1994: 24).

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However, it would be unnecessarily restrictive to rule out the existence of a similar range of ritual practice within the Minoan context. Certainly, as we have seen, there is a variety of species reported from the Minoan cult sites. The vast majority of the bone seems to come from what are typically seen as domesticated species – primarily ovicaprids. This should not surprise us, as both private and public ceremonies would have had to source their victims and not only would a domestic flock be a more reliable source of a victim, but also the gift aspect of the oblation is heightened by the surrendering of a personal or societal resource to the power invoked. However, the exact origin of these victims has in no way been ascertained, although the evidence from Mycenaean Greece is interesting on this matter.

that the animals came from herds under the control of those performing (or directly involved with) the ceremonies. This is not to say that there were ritual herds maintained on Minoan Crete, as there is no evidence to corroborate this, whereas there is a great deal of evidence that discusses herds maintained for secular purposes (for example, Tablet Series D). While it may be that cult records of ‘ritual herds’ have either not yet been found, or remain untranslated, on the evidence currently available it seems logical to assume that the animals that were used for ritual purposes came from the normal domestic herds. However, one should not presume that any animal; would suffice to serve as a sacrificial victim. It is likely that only the finest examples would have been utilised in this way. Indeed, in the Akkadian text quoted above a focus on the quality of the offerings is apparent; a similar focus is observable in the Epic tradition, and in the animals selected for sacrifice in the Classical period, whom not only had to be of good quality but who had to show their willingness to be sacrificed by their ‘nodding assent’.

The Linear B tablets and sealings, especially those from Thebes, are most useful, in particular the Theban Wu series of sealings. This group of 56 seals is associated with the provision of animals for feasting ceremonies: 47 of the seals refer, by ideogram, to single animals which seem to have been offered for these commensal ceremonies. Palaima (2004: 221) associates this potential practice with later traditions, such as at the Panathenaia where, according to a scholium to Aristophanes (Nub. 386), all Athenian colonies customarily sent a bull to be sacrificed, thus linking the communities together.

To the best of my knowledge, no concerted attempt has been made to establish the purpose behind the Minoan rites. By which I mean attempts based on the specific faunal skeletal remains and the associated archaeological features; there have been various attempts to interpret the rites depicted on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus, for example. For the most part, Minoan sacrifice has been treated merely as a propitiatory gift. However, I would expect a much more varied collection of rites as is exhibited in the Near Eastern tradition. It would seem sensible to address the possibilities of several subcategories of sacrifice in relation to the Minoan evidence.

The Theban sealings explicitly record 16 sheep (13 male, two female), 14 goats (six male, seven female), 10 pigs (six male, two female), two specifically designated “fatted pigs”, two cattle (one male, one female), and three indeterminate yearlings (Palaima, 2004: 222223).129 This is interesting as it not only reinforces the predominance of ovicaprids over other species in ritual practices, but also shows that large numbers of animals could be employed for cult purposes in the Aegean as Palaima (Ibid. 223) states that these sealings were associated with a “single central feasting ceremony.” 23 different seals were used to impress the 56 sealing nodules from Thebes (Ibid.), which Palaima believes represented the individuals or institutional entities involved in making the contributions. Although the evidence is Mycenaean, rather than Minoan, it does suggest the possible arrangements for the procurement of animals for cult use. However, it must be acknowledged that even with these sealings and texts the extent of the geographic and societal involvement in feasting and other ceremonies is still not known to any precise degree. However, at times the numbers involved could reach several hundred: for example, a tablet from Pylos (Un 318) gives an impression of a banquet for over 1000 people (Ibid. 229).

The seeming abundance of divinatory overtones within Near Eastern practices is indicative of the potential importance of divination in the Bronze Age. Although this subject has never made its way into the literature on Minoan religion, I would expect it to have been a concern on Crete as it was elsewhere in this period. The desire for foreknowledge is a consistent quality of ancient cultures, one need only think of the popularity of the Delphic Oracle in the Archaic and Classical periods. The primary problem of identifying if divination was a feature of Minoan sacrificial practices is that in nearly all cases of divinatory sacrifices it was the examination of the internal organs of the animal, rather than the skeletal elements, that revealed any omens that may be have been present. These fleshy parts of the animal have no possibility for survival in the archaeological record of Crete, even if they were retained, and so the definite identification of divination cannot come from the animal remains.

Ultimately, however, with reference to the source of the animals, the ritual origin of the faunal remains, be it feasts, sacrifices, or some other ritual process (or combination thereof), is incidental as it is fair to assume

In terms of species of victims, however, we may see a correlation between the Near East and Minoan Crete. The predominant species used for the divination rituals in the Near East were bovids and ovicaprids (Klenck, 2002: 87), which are also the main victims identified at Juktas, Psychro and Kato Syme. However, to simply assume that the Minoans also practised a divination ritual on the basis

129 Palaima concedes that the genders of some of the animals are indistinguishable, thus accounting for the differences between the total numbers and the gender breakdown.

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that the faunal remains were from the same species is incorrect. Given that divination, at least in the Near Eastern tradition, leaves no distinctive traces on the skeleton of the victim, it is impossible to identify the practice without the use of texts. This is very much the case for Minoan Crete, as we have the faunal remains, which suggest sacrifice, but can only speculate about the purposes of the rites.

on Minoan Crete is hinted at by some foreign artefacts in both spheres. For example, at Tel Haror in Israel, a deposit in Area K associated with a healing cult (Klenck, 2002: 85-86) contained a graffito on a ceramic sherd – a head of a bovine and “two unknown symbols” (Fig. 76) – which Klenck cites as being Minoan based on the opinion of Prof. Oren.131 Likewise the presence of the Reseph figurines in several Aegean deposits is suggestive of healing associations as he is often seen as a healing deity in several Bronze Age cultures.

One area we may be able to speculate on with a greater degree of accuracy is that of healing rituals. It is possible that some of the sacrificial practices may have been associated with the desire for healing. The use of dogs, primarily, for healing in the Near East (as outlined above) does not seem to have occurred in Minoan Crete. Dogs certainly do not feature in the faunal assemblages of any of the sites in this study, however they do occur with frequency in the cemetery assemblage at Phourni. Thus on Crete it would seem that dogs are more associated with funerary cult that healing cult.

Although this may seem somewhat conjectural, I believe that it is very possible. However, what should be beginning to become apparent is that the generic term ‘sacrifice’ is too broad for the variety of rituals that, in all likelihood, existed. Nevertheless, it is probable that the majority of offerings were those that originated from rites that were regularly ordained during the Minoan year – in a manner similar to that outlined for the Near East, although seemingly neither as often nor as grandiose.

However, the other creature associated with healing in the ancient world, the snake, occurs far more frequently in Minoan imagery. “The snake was known in the ancient world as a symbol for healing” (Klenck, 2002: 86): this is true of several cultures, we need only think of its associations with Asklepios in Greece. The prevalence of snake imagery in Minoan Crete is well known and has been noted throughout this study.130 It is present as decoration on both figurines and vessels, and also occurs as a plastic ornament on some vessels, such as the ‘snake tubes’. It is entirely possible that these vessels, whose function has never been established, are associated with healing. They are certainly present in several cult locations, such as Karphi, and – if the interpretation of the figurines from the Temple Repositories is correct – the snake is associated with at least one female divinity.

This proposal of regular, ordained times for ritual on Minoan Crete is not a new one. For example, Henriksson and Blomberg (1996) suggested that the worship at the peaks was centred around astronomical observations and tied to certain times of the year. While I do not agree with this particular idea, effectively of seeing the peaks as cult observatories, I would agree that both the distribution and the quantity of the faunal remains would suggest that they derive from special occasions, possibly moments of crisis or at specific times throughout the year. This is the most obvious case on the evidence presented here – namely that Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme were the Minoan sacrificial sites. This serves to mark these sites apart from others on Crete, as clearly a fundamental difference in practice existed. If these were the only sites where sacrificial rituals were practised, then it would seem logical to suggest that there was something special about these sites that made them suitable as locations for sacrifice, or that made sacrifice a fitting rite for these sites.

Given the “precariousness of life in the ancient world and…the real poverty of its technological resources” (Gould, 2001: 208), one would expect a healing cult of some form to exist: as an example of this “precariousness” one need only glance at the much later Hippocratic Writings (Lloyd 1978 [ed.]), where Epidemics 1 and 3 (the ‘case notes’ of a doctor on the island of Thasos) record 25 fatalities out of 42 cases attended. Thus it is unsurprising that people elected to enlist divine help in healing and health matters. I believe it is sensible to see healing as a major ritual motivation in Minoan Crete, certainly the votive limbs would suggest this, even if there were not a specific healing cult. While the votives would seem to be eminently personal requests for healing, it may be that some sacrificial practices were for the general health of groups of people. This is perhaps most appropriate for some of the faunal remains from Juktas where there are both votive limbs and faunal remains.

The most obvious means of differentiating between the sites would be by the nature of the deity or deities worshipped at them. One may speculate that these sites were specifically associated with one deity (or more) that were not worshipped at other locations. In this manner the practise of sacrifice may be exclusively linked with a particular deity’s cult. This would account for the massively uneven spread of possible sacrificial remains. However, it is very difficult to show (convincingly) which deities were worshipped at particular sites. Indeed, the debate about the number and nature of the powers in 131 On first impression the graffito does seem to have a ‘Minoan’ style about it, certainly in the depiction of the bull. Also the “unknown symbols” are reminiscent of some Linear A signs (see PM I: 643 no.102). Another interesting similarity between this cult area and Minoan Crete comes in the form of cult paraphernalia; decorated ceramic stands were found in the enclosed area of Area K which are very similar to those from Crete studied by Platon and Pararas (1991).

Interestingly, the link between the healing cults of the Near East and the possible existence of similar practices 130

See, for example, the Temple Repositories section, pp. 28-29.

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the Minoan pantheon has continued, and doubtless will continue, for many years. Moss’ (2005) recent study speculates about multiple gods and goddesses with various spheres of activity: the ‘Dove Goddess’, the ‘Healing Goddess’, ‘Gods and Goddesses of Initiation’, ‘Snake Goddesses’, all feature in Moss’ study although, it must be said, her reasoning is somewhat vague and, as a result, her conclusions somewhat suspect. Nevertheless, I would venture to suggest that the range of deities that she proposes is entirely reasonable. However, to attempt to identify specific deities at specific sites without the benefit of texts or cult images is too potentially subjective for inclusion here. But the association of sacrifice with a specific cult remains possible. It is also interesting that, out of this survey at least, one example of a peak sanctuary, a cave sanctuary, and an extra-urban sanctuary are those that contain faunal remains. This not only serves to unite them as a subgroup, but also to demarcate them as different from other sites within their various categories. Although there has been a general view to see all examples of one type of site as equal, this may not be the case. As has been noted,132 Peatfield saw Atsipadhes as a poor, rural peak sanctuary, and Juktas has been seen as the richest peak sanctuary and a ‘national’ sanctuary. This distinction may also have existed in the Minoan period as well. Certainly Juktas is the most archaeologically extravagant of the peaks, as Psychro is for the caves, and Kato Syme is particularly rich also. This would suggest that a hierarchy of sites within Crete is plausible, and that animal sacrifice may have only been practised at the most important of sites. If this were the case then it would also suggest that there was, at least in some respects, a pan-Cretan religion – although in other respects the archaeology suggests a variety of ritual local traditions. At present it is impossible to interpret the purpose behind the faunal remains at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme, at least in terms of associating them with a specific ritual requirement such as healing. However, the presence of the bones serves to impart a ritual significance and importance to the sites, as the conspicuous employment of animals in ritual activities does not occur elsewhere on Minoan Crete. However, this section addresses only the possible magico-religious aspects that may have been associated with the Minoan rites. As was noted above, the sociopolitical aspects, particularly that of commensality, appear (in my opinion) to have been the more significant.

132

See above, p. 32.

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producing ‘Big Men’, and organising for warfare. In some ways this secularisation of ritual practices is a hallmark of western scholarship, but again we must acknowledge a variety of practice as being the most likely model.

MINOAN FEASTING The notion of feasting rituals is one that has been associated with Minoan Crete, but the treatment of the subject has been rather superficial until recent years. The discussions of feasting have generally said that it occurred at various cult sites and certain funerary complexes. However, this is not nearly enough detail to be of use to discussions about the cultic context of Minoan Crete. There is much to be considered in terms of feasting, such as: the location of the feast, the predominance of food or drink, the number of people present at the feast, the type of persons present at the feast, and the purpose of the feast, to name but a few. These areas have not been overly discussed in relation to the Minoan evidence, but the following section references the key works on the subject. This is certainly important given the apparent commensal qualities that may be associated with the practices at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme. If a similar tradition of ‘feasting’ rituals is observable in other Minoan contexts then it may lend credence to this interpretation.

There would appear to be an obvious division that may be made in relation to feasting rituals in terms of their location, that between funerary and non-funerary contexts. As such, it would seem prudent to discuss these two contexts separately as I believe they reflect very different concerns in their practices. The evidence for graveside and burial feasting rituals is very good for Minoan Crete.133 This is certainly true of the larger burial complexes such as the Mesara tombs and the Phourni cemetery to name but two. Typically these deposits are dominated by the conical cup (see below); however, it must be noted that these objects are not deposited in the actual graves, in general, but are instead associated with tomb niches or outside areas, perhaps marking them out as an area for the physical setting for “communal ritual activities aimed at maintaining social stability and cohesion”, in the opinion of Borgna (2004: 257). Pollock (2003: 18) also notes the use of feasting rituals and commensality – the social context of sharing the consumption of food and drink – as a feature for social cohesion among many ancient nascent states.

The first point that must be made is that ‘feasting’ is rather a loaded term, it implies rather a banquet-style occasion involving food and drink and a mass gathering. However, in several cultures the focus is laid most heavily on the drink. For example, in the Late Shang period of China (ca. 1200-1045B.C.) both wine and food were part of funerary feasts, but the emphasis was decidedly on wine, to judge from the number and variety of wine-related vessels (Nelson, 2003: 85). Thus in some circumstances feasting may be an inappropriate term; hence, for instance, while discussing the Mesara tombs Branigan preferred to use the term “toasting ritual.” However, for general discussion the term may be used, with the above caveat in place.

However, in terms of funerary feasting such an interpretation makes a fundamental assumption about the identity of those persons present at the funeral ceremony: namely that they extended beyond the kinship group of the deceased person. While this is indeed possible, the majority of Minoan tombs have a communal quality, to make such a fundamental assumption with no real evidence to corroborate this view is rather circumspect. One should not assume that a communal tomb’s ‘inhabitants’ are all related to one another, nor that they were all from the same settlement. For example, the Merina of Madagascar build large tombs of stone, one or more to each village, which represent to them stability and a ‘sense of belonging’. This tomb construction is very costly, so much so that individuals are forced to choose their own potential tomb fairly early in life, so that they may contribute to its maintenance. A Merina does this by joining a particular tomb association which looks after such funerary concerns, but first they must choose the tomb they wish to be buried in, as they have several options, e.g. parents’ tomb, grandparents’ tomb, or even their spouse’s tomb. Thus the group who utilises a communal tomb may not be as obvious a social construction as some have believed.

The next key point to make is that the location of the feast will (inevitably) drastically affect the nature of the feast. For example, we may logically assume that the indications of a feast at a burial complex are of a different class of ritual to that which may have taken place at a peak sanctuary. This variance in the location of feasts was noticed recently, for the Aegean area, by Borgna: “From the Early Minoan period onwards, it is possible to recognise a considerable variety of banqueting occasions and convivial ceremonies. These events include funerary celebrations, purely religious ceremonies, and ritual activities, relevant to the establishment of social relationships in Cretan communities.” (Borgna, 2004: 256) However, Borgna’s comment also reveals her preconceptions about the purpose of the feasting, to establish “social relationships.” In this she follows the classic text on ritual feasting, Rappaport’s Pigs for the Ancestors, which studied the feasting rituals of one New Guinea tribe, the Maring, as being expressly for secular purposes: the creation and cementing of alliances,

Indeed, Ucko noticed many years ago that “the data revealed by the archaeological material itself tends to become swamped by unitary and all embracing explanation” (1969: 262). This note may be applied to 133 See below, pp. 96-97, for the appearance of animal bones in Minoan burial complexes.

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most common interpretation for the images on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus (see Long, 1974). However, given the fact we are unsure about the make-up of the groups who utilised these communal tombs we cannot omit the possibility of a secular societal tone to the rituals as well.

several areas of Minoan study but in terms of ritual and religious matters it is especially suitable. Thus we may expect a more varied explanation to account for the motivation for eating and drinking ceremonies that most certainly seem to have occurred at, at least some, Minoan funerary complexes.

Beyond funereal feasting, there is substantial evidence to suggest feasting in other Minoan contexts. However, the key point to be noted here is that, as for sacrifice, the primary indicator of the use of animals in feasting rituals would be the faunal remains. While cooking vessels suitable for meat are not a prerequisite, as the meat could have been cooked directly on the fire, without faunal remains we must conclude that any ‘feasting’ rituals that may have taken place must have been dominated by drink and non-animal (vegetarian?) foodstuffs. As such, as with sacrifice, only Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme may have had animal feasting. However, if (as was the case in both Mesopotamia and China) liquids were predominant in these feasting rituals then they may have been much more widespread. The palaces and other major architectural complexes certainly seem to have had several foci for ritual celebration. Such locations in the palaces of Knossos and Malia are well known, but equally they occur in more recently excavated structures. Impressive concentrations of pottery suited for dining and drinking have been found in association with several structures in Chania, notably the West Court and the Great Hall (Borgna, 2004: 257). Many conical cups were brought to light in the West Court. This deposit nicely complements that of House B at Gypsadhes, where nearly 200 conical cups were found in one of the pillar crypts. These vessels were arranged in fairly neat rows and were placed upside-down, covering “a small heap of vegetable matter” (PM II.2: 548) (Fig.65).

While ethnographic analogy with the Near East (Pollock, 2003) does indicate that there was a social function to funerary feasting, equally ethnographic analogy with other areas implies that the ritual and religious function may have been the more significant element of the practice. Anthropology often uses this comparative model as it directs attention to “the variety of cultural responses that have arisen” (Ucko, 1969: 263). However, this must be done with caution: but as we have large deposits of vessels for food and drink in association with burial complexes in Minoan Crete it is not a leap of conjecture to presume that a ceremony involving food and drink took place. Thus as we have the probable existence of such a ritual, based solely on the Minoan evidence, then ethnography may provide clues as to why such practices occurred. Nelson (2003) discusses feasting rituals in association with funerals in Late Shang China. In terms of these Shang feasting rituals, the secular interpretation of their function, i.e. for societal cohesion, does not appear to have been the main purpose of these rituals. The evidence for graveside feasting in early China suggests that the enlisting of the aid of the dead was of greater importance than forming alliances with the living (Nelson, 2003: 65). According to the Late Shang ‘oracle bones’, the propitiation of the dead, who especially appreciated offerings of wine and food, took place on a regular basis throughout the year, with a particular ancestor being feasted on a particular day of the ten-day Shang week. The purpose of the funereal feast is to create a new ancestral spirit who would aid their descendants in a number of ways. In Mesopotamia also, the provision of food and drink for the dead, and its repeated offering, was again a means of ensuring the support of the hostile dead. Certainly Mesopotamian cosmology suggests that the afterlife was a dismal affair, “where dirt is their drink, [and] their food is of clay” (Epic of Gilgamesh).

However, one of the most significant deposits that is suggestive of feasting rituals is that found in the cultic complex of Daskaloyannis Street at Chania, which dates to LM IA. This extensive deposit (Fig. 66) included pits and drains filled with bones, ash, pots, and conical cups. A chemical analysis, one of the very few to have been undertaken on Minoan artefacts, on a few of the clay vases from the Daskaloyannis complex indicates one of the liquids that may have been used in feasting and libation rituals. A mixture of wine, barley beer, and honey mead has been recognised in for conical cups coming from the drain of the platform and room (Area 21) (Andreadaki-Vlasaki, 2002: 163). AndreadakiVlasaki notes the fact that this mixed fermented beverage recalls the Homeric kykeon, a mixture of wine, barley, honey, and cheese (Ibid.). In the case of these latter deposits, here we would certainly seem to have strong evidence for structured deposition, the deliberate creation of deposits in order to communicate a message according to the extant cosmology. The importance of structured deposition is becoming increasingly apparent in Minoan archaeology, as is shown by Hatzaki’s (forthcoming: 3) comment on the Temple Repositories. She states that “all the material deposited in the cists was

Thus, through analogy with other ancient and modern cultures, it seems that the motivation for funereal feasting in Minoan Crete may fall into one of two primary areas: either the secular binding-together of an extended group of people or have overtones of ensuring the support of the ancestral spirits. Equally it may have had aspects of both: crucially, for both the Mesopotamian and Late Shang feasting traditions, we have sets of contemporary texts that indicate the concerns behind the rituals. For the Minoan, however, we must rely on supposition. I would imagine, given the communal tomb structures and secondary burial rituals (such as the moving of the bones to allow for fresh internments), that some concern for the spirits of the dead existed in Minoan Crete and would have featured in the funeral cult. For example, this is the 93

selected for deposition and not swept up debris from a site clearance.” Such deposits as mentioned above are merely some of those which suggest the practise of feasting rituals. Indeed several of the cult locations in this study have evidence for such practices, as it overlaps somewhat with that for libation. Coarse cups and bowls are found at many sites and these could suggest a similar form of toasting/feasting ritual. These coarse wares have been seen as evidence for commensality: “Pottery used for ritual meals at cultic feasts, such as at MM and LM Kato Syme, consists mostly of simple, undecorated domestic ware. Kamares and other prestigious decorative styles occur rarely, which may mean that the prevailing ideology emphasised the community rather than individuality” (Borgna, 2004: 262-263). While this is interesting it is somewhat conjectural as there is no evidence to suggest the identity of those individuals who may have been present at such ritual occasions. This is one of the most frustrating aspects of ritual reconstruction on Minoan Crete as we really have little idea about cultic personnel or those who attended the various rituals at cult locations. The votive figurines would seem to suggest personal and individual worship, but the pottery remains are suggestive of communal and commensal rites. Despite claims such as that of Borgna (2004: 265), “it is clear that…elite/non-elite interaction during the ritual performances was minimal…”, there is nothing to suggest this, although we may safely assume that some locations, such as the Shrine of the Double Axes, were subject to restricted access – not only because of their locations deep within structures, but also because of their small size. But this is the limit of what we may legitimately conclude. However, I do believe that we may legitimately speak of a class of Minoan ritual that may be treated akin to feasting rituals. As mentioned above, the term ‘feasting’ is implicitly misleading as the Minoan evidence would seem to be biased heavily towards drinking. Moreover, the possible role of animals in feasting rituals shows the same limited distribution as that for sacrifice as the remains would be essentially identical. Nevertheless, non-animal foodstuffs – grain and fruits, for example – may have played a role in such ceremonies, but drinks (in whatever form) were undoubtedly the key aspects of these commensal rituals.

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THE USE OF PRACTICES

ANIMALS

IN

found in the entrance way. This individual, an equus caballus c. 6 years old, is interesting as the entire skeleton was deposited but in an obviously jointed condition; the shoulder blades of the animal clearly retained cut marks, suggesting the removal of flesh prior to its burial. In addition, the skull of a bull was found in the entrance to the side room of Tholos A.

FUNERARY

“He slung the bodies Of four fine horses upon the pyre, and groaned. Nine hunting dogs had fed at the Lord’s table; Upon the pyre he cut the throats of two, But as for the noble sons of Troy, all twelve He put to the sword, as he willed their evil hour. Then in the midst he slung the pitiless might of fire to feed upon them all and cried upon his dead companions: “Peace be with you even in the dark where Death commands, Patroclus” (Il. XXIII.175-184,trans. Fitzgerald)

Tholos tomb B also shows a large quantity of faunal remains, and once again the entrance of the tomb seems to have been the focal point for the animal deposits. In this case, the entrance way showed bones of pig, sheep, goats, hares, and birds (Ibid.). Also in this tomb, which contained several burials – most in larnakes, one sarcophagus-ossuary, dated to LM IB, contained animal bones (oxen, sheep, pig, and hare) in the deposit among the human bones (Ibid. 261); the human bones in this sarcophagus, those of 19 individuals, were a distinctive red colour “as though they had been washed with wine” (Ibid. 258). However, the most distinctive finds associated with Tholos B, and the cemetery as a whole, were the skeletal remains of dogs – most had the head severed from the body.

Thus far we have been dealing primarily with ritual processes that deal with the interaction between deities and their human worshippers, or commensal rituals designed around social interaction. However, it is also possible that animals played a part in rituals that dealt with the dead, their deposition and, possibly, their worship as part of an ancestor cult. This passage from the Iliad illustrates that during the funeral of Patroclus, prisoners of war as well as animals were offered to the dead hero. Prior to this a large number of sheep and cattle had been killed and assembled around the funeral pyre, in a form of hecatomb (Il. XXIII. 169-170). Fat from the animals had also been used to “sheathe the body” (Ibid. 171), presumably to assist in its combustion. However, this is epic literature and surely cannot be of use in the study of Minoan cult practise. In actuality, the answer is, somewhat cryptically, it may be and also it may not be.

Thus in relation to at least some of the later burial structures at Phourni there is a large quantity of evidence for the ritualised offering of animals in association with the mortuary practices, certainly more so than at the majority of cult sites analysed in Chapter Two. Interestingly, there is also an exterior ‘altar’, a huge slab of limestone dressed into a regular rectangular shape and placed in contact with the east wall of Burial Building 19. In the opinion of the excavators it was “certainly used for burial ceremonies” (Ibid. 261). However, it is clear that some of the faunal deposits, i.e. the full, albeit disarticulated, skeletons, differ from the normal indicators of primary butchery waste – the head and feet of animals (Halstead and Isaakidou, 2004: 140). Moreover, even if those bones which are not from a complete skeletal deposit are associated with a feasting ritual or an offering to accompany the dead, the evidence seems confined to the later periods of the cemetery’s use.

I must stress that I do not propose that mass hecatomb offerings of this type occurred in the Minoan period. However, it was literary references such as this that led me to believe that Minoan funerary practices may have included animal offerings, or the use of animals in general. Similarly, in the Geometric – Classical periods, mainland Greek funerals are associated with funeral banquets including the eating of animals. Likewise, on Cyprus, horses (in association with chariots) have been found in the dromoi of tombs of the “Heroic Age” (Burkert, 1985: 193). Indeed a number of cultures, ancient and modern, incorporated a ritualised use of animals into their funerary practices. The archaeological evidence would certainly seem to corroborate this use of animals for the Minoan period as well.

However, the evidence for the use of animals in funerary practices is not limited to cemeteries or formal tomb structures. The example of Agios Charalambos, a Middle Minoan burial cave in the plain of Lasithi in Eastern Crete, illuminates this (Arch. Reps. 2003-2004: 85-86). Although there was much disturbance around the cave mouth, from dynamiting that took place in 1976, there were some lenses where the original Minoan soil levels remained intact. These areas contained MM pottery, large amounts of charcoal, and many animal bones with butchery marks on many of the small elements (Ibid.). The range of species represented included sheep or goat, pig, cattle, and a small mammal that may have been hare. Some of the bone remains were burned in a manner that suggests they were cooked with the meat still on them, i.e. roasted. This is remarkably good evidence that allows us to trace the use of animals in funeral ceremonies back to at least the Middle Minoan period. However, animal bones are absent from some of the Mesara tombs, and so

One of the key Minoan sites for this practice is the cemetery of Phourni, which is significant in its own right as it is the only known burial complex that exhibits an uninterrupted period of use from EM II - LM IIIC (Sakellarakis and Sakellarakis, 1997: 246). Although Crete’s mortuary traditions were not the same at every site (Betancourt and Davaras, 2003: 135), Phourni does have considerable evidence for the use of animals in funerary practices. This is particularly true in the cases of Tholoi A and B, both dating to LM IIIA. In Tholos A the skeleton of a dismembered horse, the head severed from the neck, the legs from the belly, and the sides from the backbone (Sakellarakis and Sakellarakis, 1997: 263), was 95

animal rituals are not indicated at these structures (Goodison, 1989: 32). There is evidence for burning at some of the tombs, and Xanthoudides (1924: 135) is forced to conclude that a satisfactory explanation for the fires is lacking. The cemetery at Pseira is also without large amounts of faunal material in most of the tombs (see Betancourt and Davaras, 2003), usually only one or two skeletal elements from animals are reported – typically a long bone (femur, radius, or ulna), although marine shells such as monodonta are found (again in small numbers). Tomb 4 at Pseira, one of the earlier structures (dating to Final Neolithic/Early Minoan I – MMII A/B), is lacking in ash, charcoal, or animal bones of any kind (Ibid. 40), suggesting that the feasting upon/offering of animals was a relatively late development in the funerary practices of Crete. Yet once again the evidence for libation and liquid offering, such as rhyta or cups, is more prevalent, at least at Phourni (Sakellarakis and Sakellarakis, 1997: 258). A similar pattern is seen in the much earlier vaulted tombs of the Mesara, where dozens, sometimes hundreds, of conical cups were found in chambers outside of Apesokari II, Ayia Triada A, Kamilari I, Lebena II, and Vorou A (Branigan, 1970: 98). Branigan associates this with a specific funerary toasting ritual (Ibid. 99-103). But at the cemetery at Pseira some of the categories of grave offerings, including undecorated conical cups, are not present in substantial numbers or are missing altogether (Betancourt and Davaras, 2003: 135). However, these simple cups are common at many Minoan burial sites. Indeed, if we compare the Minoan evidence relating to conical cups to the crudely made conical bowls and spouted jugs from Egyptian Early Dynastic graves there are remarkable similarities. Here too, in Egypt, they occur in great numbers and have also bee associated with feasting rituals, which has been supported by “occasional finds of food remnants, including fruit (dates and apples), chickpeas, fish and other animal bones in the vessels in the graves” (Pollock, 2003: 26). Feasting as a graveside ritual was also a feature of the Late Shang Dynasty in China (Nelson, 2004: 65). The use of animals, either as offerings or for consumption in feasts, seems to be specific to certain sites. But generally, at most later (i.e. after the formation of the palaces) burial complexes there is increasing evidence for their use, perhaps becoming a more prominent feature of a Minoan mortuary practise when the relative expenditure of offering/consuming a herd animal could be more easily borne by the relatives of the deceased. However, the regional variation and inter-site differences mean that each cemetery must be judged individually.

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as these rituals involving horses and bulls being drowned are predominant in the Argolid, and given that the Argives of the historical period seldom went to sea, then they must originate must further back, perhaps even to Mycenaean times (Ibid. 88). However, Robertson offers no actual evidence to corroborate this hypothesis, merely presupposing that they are survivals. Yet in the discussion following the presentation of Robertson’s paper (also recorded in the conference volume), Scullion does make mention of ritual equipment, such as altars, seen on ships on Minoan and Mycenaean gems and seals.

MARITIME SACRIFICE This section is a brief study of sacrificial rituals pertaining to the sea; more particularly, those rites that have a maritime connection, offering the fruits of the sea, offering to a deity whose τίμη would appear to be the sea, or indeed those rites carried out on or near the sea. Certainly in the Archaic and Classical periods, sacrifices concerned with the sea are fairly well known. Obviously the offerings to Poseidon are the most famous: for example, at the Temple of Cape Sunion the first fruits of the tunny fishing season are taken as offerings for Poseidon for the festal meal (Burkert, 1985: 137). Thus, in this format of the ritual, fish are a legitimate offering although it is perhaps inappropriate to use the term “sacrifice” for this process. This term is eminently suitable, however, for the bull offerings to Poseidon (Ibid. 138). But given the lack of context supplied in relation to these rituals it is all we can do to suppose that they were of the usual θυσία type. More idiosyncratic are the horse sacrifices for Poseidon, which are of a starkly different nature. Given the massive mythological association between Poseidon and horses,134 we should not be surprised that they were offered to him. The manner, however, is most unusual given the usually stringent details of the θυσία ritual: they were drowned.

It was this factor that prompted my enquiries into this area of study in terms of the possibility of a format for Minoan Maritime sacrifice. Previously I had considered that the sea must have at least some importance for the religious and ritual concerns of the Minoans, as an “island nation” it would have been very odd had the sea not been a powerful force in the everyday life of Bronze Age Crete. Nevertheless, I had not considered a formal maritime cult until after some time of working on this dissertation.135 The fact that the sea was significant to the Minoans is obvious from many sources: the appearance of Marine Ware pottery, for example. This style, whose acme is LM IB, is resplendent with marine decorative elements (Fig. 67): Argonauts, triton shells, octopuses, sea weed, and other motifs are common. Similarly, in wall painting, the exploitation of the wealth of the sea is recorded – as in the Fisherman fresco from Xesté 3 on Akrotiri (Fig. 68). However, this use of marine motifs in decorative contexts would not necessarily reflect a cultic association with the sea. Yet it is significant that in a number of Minoan cult locations we may observe a connection with the sea.

Horses were, predominantly, thrown into special areas of the sea, either alive or having just had their throats slit: the freshwater spring that rises in the sea, the “Whirlpool” at Argos, is probably the most famous locations for this rite. Such practices were also mentioned in the Epic tradition: “Many a bull you’ve offered, Many a trim-hoofed horse thrown in alive to Xanthus’ whirlpools” (Il. XXI.131-2)

In some cases this association may be only fleeting: the fish ‘rhyton’ from Traostalos,136 and the boat model from the same site; the triton shell on the lentoid seal from the Idaean Cave;137 the water-worn pebbles from several sites, including the Shrine of the Double Axes.138 However, in several cases the connection is more apparent; it is particularly vivid in the Temple Repositories deposit. In this deposit we have both the vertebrae of several species of fish and numerous sea shells. The connection with the sea here is incontrovertible, but has never been overly emphasised. Typically, the figurines of the ‘Snake Goddess’ have taken priority over everything else, but it must be remembered that snakes also are often at least semiaquatic, while there are species which are wholly aquatic.

But it is also important to remember that horses could also be sacrificed or offered by means other than drowning. For example, they are killed and deposited in funerary cult as late as the 8th century B.C. at Salamis on Cyprus (see BCH 87, 1963: 282-286, 378-380). But for the most part, no matter what the form of the sacrifices, horses were usually consecrated for Poseidon. Thus it may be observed, even from this very brief synopsis, that these ‘maritime sacrifices’ were significant in the Classical period. However, it has been recently argued (Robertson, 2005) that these rites can be traced back to much earlier periods. Robertson speculates that

The 6340 marine shells, reported by Hatzaki (2007, forthcoming: 4) as coming from the Temple Repositories, have been seen as examples of personal votives, or a

134

The association is between Poseidon and horses is very strong indeed. He was the god of horses, Poseidon Hippios, and frequently took the form of a horse. In this guise he mated with the goddess Demeter, who bore him the divine horse Areion. Pegasus, the winged horse, was also the offspring of Poseidon following his coupling with the Gorgon Medusa. He also gave horses as gifts to the mortals he favoured; for example, he gave the immortal horses Xanthus and Balius (which were later taken to Troy by Achilles) to Peleus as a wedding present.

135 I must also at this point thank Mr. Grant Slater who, from a completely non-Minoan specialist background, prompted me to consider this aspect through his much interested questioning of me on the matter. 136 See above, p. 39 . 137 See above, p. 50. 138 See above, p. 27.

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least a votive symbolising the presence of an individual. However, I do not believe that this is the case. I believe the precise number of shells to be largely irrelevant,139 more the sheer abundance of them is the fact that makes them significant. As Hatzaki notes (Ibid.), this is one of the largest concentrations of shells found on Bronze Age Crete and certainly the largest at Knossos.

fresco frieze: “the ships in procession are taking part in a nautical festival” (Morgan, 1988: 144). This is very possible given the adornments on the ships, such as bunting, that would not seem to be aspects of the usual rigging and fastenings of the vessels. But of greater significance than the ships themselves is the procession of men in front of the town to which the ships appear to be travelling. At the rear of this group, one figure is leading an animal, usually seen as a bull (but possibly a goat [Dickinson, 2006: personal communication), towards the shore, seemingly as part of the welcome for the arriving vessels (Fig. 69). It is clear that the arrival of these vessels is an event of some significance, as the population of the town are all eagerly looking toward the flotilla, and we may therefore see the leading of this animal as a significant part of the welcome for these vessels. While it may be that the animal was a gift for those aboard the ships, it may also have been a potential victim to be sacrificed as thanks for safe passage. Likewise the ornate cabin structures on the sterns of the ships in the ‘procession’ are perhaps suggestive of some ritual practice taking place aboard the vessels. Certainly in later periods the stern of ships was the location for offerings: for example, a small altar was placed in the stern of Greek vessels in the Classical period for thankofferings upon safe arrival (Morgan, 1988: 143).

The purpose of the offering or deposition of these marine elements is not obvious in this case, primarily due to the uncertain nature of the Temple Repositories deposit as a whole. It may well be that the ‘Snake Goddess’ is a misleading appellation as the sea is clearly better represented than the snake. Perhaps the shells are symbolic of the τίμη of the deity with whom the deposit is linked, or an offering to that power. More prosaically, if the Temple Repositories are a foundation deposit, the shells may reflect a direct association between the Palace and the sea, either as a source of wealth or food, or in the linking of the Palace with a particular deity. Yet whatever the nature of the deposit the importance of the marine connection is unquestionable. Nor is the Temple Repositories deposit’s focus on marine elements an anomaly among Minoan cult sites. The cowrie and triton shells found at Karphi are another clear indication of the importance of the sea and marine forces to Minoan cult. Even though in this instance these shells are most likely to have been used as cult implements this does not lessen their significance, rather the opposite. Sea shells are also found at Traostalos, Juktas, and Kato Syme has a conch shell. This repeated presence of shells at various cult sites creates a sound base to judge that the marine element was a persistent one among at least some of the Minoan cult sites. Similarly, the significance of the sea is also seen in the cave of Vernopheto wehere there are drawings of a ‘Mistress of Animals’ in association with a catch of fish (BCH 93 [1969]: 195-199).

Säflund (1981) also saw a ritual process in the Ship Procession fresco, noting the “spectacular ceremonial attire of the principal ships” (198). Similarly, some (e.g. Casson, 1975: 3-10) have argued that the methods of steering and propelling the ships, by means of paddles, is “archaic” for the Minoan period, an observation that has also been used to add gravitas to the ‘ceremonial’ tones of the fresco, apparently using traditional methods of propulsion implies a conservatism that speaks of religiosity. Säflund speculates that the purpose of the sailing may be the bringing of a bridegroom for some form of sacred marriage ceremony (1981: 200). Indeed, there is a seated male figure on the lead ship but this is somewhat of a theoretical leap.

However, in terms of sacrifices to the sea (or to the deities thereof) or on/by the sea, the evidence is less clear and much of what will follow is supposition. Robertson (2005) claimed that the sacrifice to the sea was a custom prior to the ‘Olympian’ and ‘Chthonian’ categories, tracing it to the Bronze Age, but provides no evidence to support such a claim. This is ultimately because there is no evidence to present. Bulls, horses, goats – all of these may have been thrown into the sea in the Minoan period, but there is simply no evidence, neither archaeological nor iconographic, to confirm or deny this claim. Indeed, the only possible evidence for these (or any) maritime rituals comes in the Theran frescoes, in particular the West House Miniature Fresco which is known as the ‘Ship Procession’.

However, it is true that the West House did contain a number of ritual features that would lend credence to any ritual interpretation of the Ship Procession fresco. One such object is the well-known plaster tripod offering table adorned with images of dolphins, which recall the “dolphin escort” on the fresco (Säflund, 1981: 204-205). Säflund also speculated that the Ship Procession fresco “presumably derived from a Cretan prototype” (Ibid. 207). However, no fresco prototypes have been found on Crete (to the best of my knowledge), although there are examples of figures in boats on seals. Certainly boats do appear in other media as well, seemingly as offerings themselves: the physical example from Traostalos is complemented by the representations of boat models on the Ayia Triada sarcophagus which seem to be being presented as gifts. Of course, the Ship Procession has been interpreted in other ways; as a rendition of an actual voyage for one, or as a voyage of conquest, although the lack of weaponry visible on the vessels would seem to preclude the latter.

This very famous fresco, although it is not from a Cretan source, is suggestive of some form of marine ritual. Morgan (1988) also realised the ritual overtones of this 139 Hatzaki claims a correlation between the number of shells and the possible number of persons that could have been accommodated by the Central Court in the Palace (2007, passim).

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The ritual interpretation is primarily based on assumption, but one for which there is a good degree of circumstantial evidence. Nevertheless, I believe that it is most probably a ritualised scene; the presence of a number of ‘horns of consecration’ and possibly a large, concave altar structure at the town to which the vessels are travelling may lend some support to this theory. Indeed, Säflund speculates that the settlement of Akrotiri may have begun as “a coastal cult establishment which…developed into [a] protourban settlement” (1981: 206). Thus, there would seem to be sufficient evidence to begin to speculate that the sea, or marine elements, may have played a significant role in Minoan cult, certainly to a comparable degree with the evidence for sacrificial ritual. Indeed, if the marine traces outlined above are read as evidence for a maritime cult, then it would be of far greater significance in the Minoan cosmology than the relatively limited evidence for the commensal rituals. The fact that we have both forms of evidence at Juktas may be seen to suggest a possible link between the two cult aspects, but this is by no means clear.. Although the above treatment has been cursory, as required by constraints of space, I feel that this is a viable area for further study and that the real significance of the maritime cult has been underestimated in current scholarship.

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The supposition of the importance of epiphanic rituals to Minoan religion has become so ingrained into thinking on this subject that even in introductory works it has taken pride of place: “…but there was also a class of summoning rituals, designed to produce the epiphany of a god, in which he/she was imagined as coming to inhabit the body of a participant or some natural or constructed feature, or simply as invisibly present” (Dickinson, 1994a: 265). I believe that this manner of thinking about Minoan religion may have begun as a direct result of the lack of formal cult images at Minoan sanctuaries. An aniconic religion, utterly different to the propensity of cult images found in the Bronze Age Near East, may have been extant on Bronze Age Crete, and such a system more than likely would have relied on the epiphanic principle.

ECSTATIC RELIGION A further aspect of Minoan religion which I feel must be at least mentioned in this study is that of ecstatic religion. This subject has been discussed before, most notably by Peter Warren (1981/1988), and is of great interest but has little archaeological evidence to support it. This is simply because it is a ritualistic/religious process that would leave very little evidence in the archaeological record; however, it is possibly reflected in the iconographic record – although some caveats exist here as they did with the use of iconography as a source of information about sacrifice. This section is important to the overall cult operations of Minoan Crete given its frequent appearance in earlier scholarship. First, however, it is necessary to define what we mean by the term ‘ecstatic religion’. In simple terms this is ritual or religious practice where normal societal rules do not apply – emotions are heightened, reactions and activities may be termed orgiastic, and, in many cases, the situation is characterised by altered states of consciousness. Indeed, we should not be surprised to find such rituals extant in Minoan Crete as most human societies have sanctioned limited and circumscribed forms of altered states of consciousness (Michalowski, 1994: 27). In addition, a great number of ecstatic religions are concerned with the direct contact with the divine; either by the participants ‘travelling’ to the abode of the divine, as in the case of the Tunguska shaman, or by the epiphany of the god (either inferred or acted) as in the case of the Classical cult of Dionysus. Indeed, the satyrs and Maenads of the latter have effectively come to define ecstatic religion.

However, the actual evidence for this form of ritual is scarce. It is generally believed that dance or performance played a major role in these rituals and, as a result, there have been efforts to identify the areas where such activities may have taken place. Certainly the epic tradition is suggestive of the significance of dancing rituals on ancient Crete, as in the case of the description on the shield of Achilles: “A dancing floor as well he fashioned, like the one in royal Knossos Daedalus made for Princess Ariadne. Here young men and the most desired young girls were dancing, linked, touching each other’s wrists…” (Il. XVIII.590-594) It is noteworthy that Peter Warren has identified three such possible dancing platforms from the final period of the Palace of Knossos (1988: 9) (Fig. 70). These structures are clearly not floors of houses, granaries, or towers, or indeed any architectural feature with a superstructure; as Warren states they are structures in the own right (Ibid.). Moreover, they are clearly important structures as can be seen in the care that was taken in their construction, with carefully dressed ashlar masonry and their size – the largest platform being some 7.34m in diameter on its upper surface. Unfortunately, the description of these structures as “dancing platforms” is without corroborative evidence (such as a representation of individuals dancing upon such a structure) and, in my opinion, stems from the need to identify a location for the ritual practice that was assumed to have taken place. This obviously results in a somewhat cyclical argument. I do not say that the ascription of the term is incorrect, indeed I believe it is rather plausible, but it requires further validation.

Sacrifice may not seem directly relate to ecstatic religion, yet I feel it is necessary to include a brief discussion of the subject as it is yet another example of a ritual process which appears as, if not more common, than sacrifice140 and equally as important in the iconographic canon. As such, it further defines the ritual context of Minoan Crete in which the rituals employing animals were performed. As stated above, the primary form of evidence for ecstatic ritual is iconographic. This too is significant as we saw earlier how much of the speculation about sacrifice stemmed from the study of the iconographic evidence. If the images assumed to relate to ecstatic religion can be similarly subject to drastically different interpretations it reinforces the difficulties and dangers of using iconography as an unqualified source for ritual information. However, if it transpires that ecstatic religion, and the acted or assumed epiphany of the deity, may be adequately studied from iconography, of which there are numerous possible examples, then it would yet again appear to be a more common occurrence than sacrifice.

The only other artefactual evidence for dancing rituals comes in the form of ceramic models. These humanoid figurines are modelled dancing in a ring – the famous example being that from Palaikastro (Fig. 71). Although this is only one of a few examples of such pieces (I see the sanctuary models from Kamilari as being of the same nature, i.e. the rendering of a ritual practice in ceramics). However, as these are the only artefactual examples

140 Although certainly in the Classical period the Maenads, in the train of Dionysus, are often seen carrying or tearing apart animals, particularly goats and deer.

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referring to the possibility of dancing rituals, other sources of information have been used to support the hypothesis of dancing rituals and, by extension, epiphanies and ecstatic ritual. The main category of evidence is purely iconographic, primarily scenes engraved on seals, rings, and gem stones; the most famous of the se is the Vapheio ring.

seeming lack of cult images by treating trees, pillars, and similar structures as aniconic forms of the deity. A comparison with the concern for ashera in Semitic religions (Ibid. 117) is of little assistance in this case, as this fails to account for the images on some of the Minoan seals where there appear to have been efforts to depict anthropomorphised deities. Thus I feel that the epiphanic interpretation of the dancing imagery is the more convincing, at least in the case of the Sacred Grove and Dance Fresco.

This ring (Fig. 72) has been much discussed141 and is one of several examples of rings showing dancing rituals or epiphanies, other notable examples are the rings from Mycenae (Fig. 73), Isopata (Fig. 74), and Archanes. These scenes are typically seen as “religious ritual[s] involving ecstatic dancing and apparent trance conditions or possession” (Warren, 1981: 163-164); indeed in the case of the Vapheio ring, Evans described the scene as one of “orgiastic dance” (PM III: 141). These interpretations are primarily based on the energetic poses that the figures are shown as holding. While the interpretation of dance is extremely plausible (although inferred) the matter of the “ecstatic” quality is much more subjective and difficult to prove. Evans linked the scenes on the Vapheio and Isopata rings to the Mycenae ring to validate the ecstatic hypothesis. On this latter ring, fruit appears to be being picked and it is this fruit (or the derivatives thereof) that “supplies the religious frenzy” (PM III: 142). In this Evans was clearly influenced by, and admits such, the references to the intoxicant soma in the Indian Vedic texts. Although this is ultimately supposition, albeit from ethnographic analogy, the possible use of intoxicants or hallucinogens on Minoan Crete remains essentially unanswerable due to our lack of understandable ritual texts. However, if they were employed it is probable that they would be utilised in ritual processes involving direct communion with the divine; for instance, the epiphany.

As noted above, the association between dancing and epiphanies is a well-established one – the prime Classical example being the bacchic revelries of Dionysus where one of the worshippers donned a mask of the god in an enacted epiphany. In the Minoan case the hypothesis is founded upon one key point of assumption, namely that one (or more) of the figures in the scenes is a representation of an anthropomorphised deity. This is done, in the absence of names and text, through secondary indicators such as the relative size of the figure, or the focus of the scene, as there are no specific indicators of divinity in the Minoan iconographic register.142 As such it must be acknowledged as a flawed method of identification, yet without alternative means it is the best method available to us. With this caveat in place, I feel I must agree with the current thinking that these are epiphanic scenes. However, there precise nature remains unclear; by which I mean whether the epiphany is based purely on a sense of religious ecstasy, or if it is enacted by a worshipper as with the Classical Dionysiac example. This ambiguity is frustrating, as is the case with the context of these ritual occurrences. There is no firm evidence to directly associate epiphanic rituals with particular forms of cult, despite early claims that they may have an association with funerary cult based on the fact that the rings depicting such scenes were found in tomb contexts (PM III: 140, for example). Such conjecture of this type is not useful at this point, thus suffice it to say that it would seem appropriate to believe that an epiphanic ritual of some form, in combination with aspects of dance, appears to have played a role in the religious practices of Bronze Age Crete.

The Sacred Grove and Dance Fresco is perhaps the most striking iconographic representation of the possible importance of dance and ecstatic religion in Minoan culture (Fig. 75). This very fragmentary miniature fresco was found at Knossos in what was believed to have been a small corner sanctuary, and is thought to have occupied the corner space where the Northern Entrance Passage entered the Central Court (PM III: 29). It shows the performance of what seems to be a ceremonial dance (Ibid. 67), which Evans associated the dance ceremony with ecstatic possession (Ibid. 69) and is in keeping with his interpretations of the seals and sealings which depict similar scenes. I find this interpretation fairly convincing, certainly more so than some of the later interpretations.

A further aspect of the traditional view of ecstatic religion is that of the ‘altered state of consciousness’. While we cannot answer the matter of whether hallucinogens were utilised in Minoan Crete, there is a great deal of evidence to suggest the importance of wine. One model from Kamilari (Fig. 77), while usually seen as a further example of the ‘ring dance’, has been interpreted by Marinatos (1993: 22) as depicting the treading of grapes for wine production. If this is the case, which is possible given the small, round enclosure in which the figures are sculpted, then the fact that the structure is topped with ‘horns of consecration’ is very interesting, perhaps implying a ritualised process of production or that the wine is to be used in a ritual. The

For example, in White’s analysis of the significance of the “sacred grove” as a concept in Minoan religion he sees it rather as an object of veneration in itself than as a location for a cult practice (1964: 114). This reiteration of the concept of a form of baetylic worship, similar to that proposed by Evans in the Tree and Pillar Cult, is not particularly convincing and attempts to account for the

142

The difficulty of accurately identifying the divinity of figures in Minoan art is well-known and has affected all studies of the religion of Bronze Age Crete, including this one.

141

For example: Evans, 1901: 179; PM III: 140-144, 314-317; Nilsson, 1951: 275; Warren, 1981: 163-164.

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wider significance of wine and wine production is clearly shown in the Neopalatial period which sees the “concentration of the vast majority of wine presses” (Hamilakis, 2002b: 195). This concentration is mirrored by the increase in numbers of drinking vessels and, at the same time, the reduction in the number of shapes, until the conical cup becomes the dominant form. All of this evidence is telling of the significance of large-scale drinking practices during the Neopalatial period. This may relate to commensal drinking rituals which may have had ecstatic or epiphanic aspects. Yet in some examples of ecstatic religion, notably Classical Greece, there is a definite link between the ecstatic and the sacrificial. While such practices were made into high drama by Euripides in the Bacchae, with the frenzied dismemberment of Pentheus, it is nevertheless reasonable to presume that it is an exaggeration of the actual practice of sacrifice in association with Bacchic revelry. We should not be surprised by this as, at least in the case of Classical Greece, burnt animal sacrifice was the preeminent ritual practice in terms of dealing with the gods. Obbink (1993: 71), referring to Diodorus Siculus (4.3.2), states that the female devotees of Dionysus offered their own sacrifices – which Obbink notes was “highly unusual for women in antiquity.” Therefore, according to the work of Diodorus, “historical Maenads offered sacrifices as civilised substsitutes for the savage sacrifices in Maenadic myth” (Obbink, 1993: 72). Thus, a pre-eminent example of what may be seen as an ecstatic religious cult can be directly associated with sacrificial practise. However, for the Minoan practices we do not have the luxury of informed literary source material. The iconography that we do possess which is, at best, vague in relation to sacrifice is of a similar quality with regard to ecstatic religion. But in the traditionally-used examples of ‘ecstatic’ iconography, such as the Isopata ring, have no details on them that might suggest sacrifice. While this is by no means conclusive evidence, it may suggest that in the Minoan sphere ecstatic ritual and sacrificial ritual were more divorced from one another than they were in Classical Greece. This is, in itself, of great interest despite this seeming irrelevance of ecstatic religion to the concept of sacrifice in ‘Minoan’ cosmology. Yet it is indeed relevant as it once again reveals that the all-pervading quality attached to Minoan sacrifice may be eroded yet further. Although this evidence alone would be at best circumstantial, when it is added to the other facts presented in this study, the very limited distribution of faunal remains that may indicate sacrifice and the persistent indications of nonsacrificial, socio-religious ritual practices, it begins to become clear that sacrifice cannot be accorded the status of the pre-eminent socio-religious ritual of Minoan Crete.

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continuation of the Knossocentric viewpoint, as the authors make an overt comparison between the roles of Knossos and Juktas in terms of their wider influence in Crete. Recent work (for example, several essays in Driessen, J., Schoep, I. and Laffineur, R. (eds.), 2002, Monuments of Minos: Rethinking the Minoan Palaces) has done much to increase the pressure to abandon this Knossocentric attitude. Given this trend in Minoan archaeology, perhaps it is time to re-address such statements as that of Peatfield (1992: 59) as he attempts to summarise the current thinking on the peaks: “Collectively they form a single class of shrine, representative of a peak sanctuary cult which was one of the features of a religious ideology which unified Minoan Crete”, and later in the same article he refers to them as “transcending regional differences” (Ibid. 61).

‘MINOAN’ RELIGION? The title of this dissertation used the phrase “in…Minoan religion”, and it has been repeated throughout the text. This has the obvious implication attached to it that there was one unifying religious belief system across the whole of Crete during the Bronze Age. However, during the course of the completion of this study it has become clear to me that this is not as obvious as one has been led to believe. Certainly, if we examine the Near Eastern region during the same period then a pattern of different deities with different secular bases of worship becomes apparent. In other words, the various towns and cities were associated with their own patron deities, whose worship was paramount within that settlement. Equally, however, there is reason to suggest that there may have been a profundity of intrinsically local deities and lesser powers extant on Minoan Crete. This is certainly true of Archaic/Classical Greece: for example, in his Theogony, Hesiod refuses to name the mass numbers of local and river deities as there are far too many. Therefore, in this section I intend to address this matter of ‘Minoan’ religion and its credibility, for as Dickinson (1994a: 259) has stated “one might expect a…tendency for communities to recognise local gods.”

Peatfield sees this system of unification as occurring during the Neopalatial period, when “the peak sanctuary cult was deliberately centralised at the few peak sanctuaries associated with the palaces and palatial towns’ (Ibid). This is how he accounts for the “rural” quality of Atsipadhes, as it was one of the peaks being ‘phased out’. However, I must disagree with his hypothesis despite his greater experience than my own. He admits that the order is synthetic and stresses the similarities, but I believe that there is sufficient inter-site variation within the peaks to cast doubt on this unifying theory.

The first point to be made is that the same types of sanctuary site occur across Crete, with peak sanctuaries and cave sanctuaries being the most readily identifiable. Yet one should not read this as being the same as an even distribution. The peak sanctuaries, for example, cluster in the east of the island, with several other examples in the north and south of the centre of Crete. They are, however, unknown in the west of the island. While this may reflect a flawed sampling and survey strategy, it is nevertheless suggestive that the peaks may have spread from an initial foundation in the eastern areas. However, even this has the implication of an almost evangelising process rather than the spontaneous generation of these sites by local populations. Indeed, it has long been claimed that the peaks shared a common cult, united not only by the practices performed at them, but also by virtue of their supposed inter-visibility. Recent G.I.S. (Geographical Information Systems) work on the peak sanctuaries as a group of sites (e.g. Soetens et al. 2003) has produced some interesting results on this supposed site intervisibility, suggesting that a hierarchy of intervisibility may have existed. For example, they state that all of the ‘satellite peak sanctuaries’ of Central Crete are visible from Juktas, “but not so much amongst each other” (485). However, I have several issues with this theory, not in substance but in presentation. By virtue of the wording there is an implication, or rather possible inference, that Juktas was the initial peak sanctuary foundation and that the other examples of the peak sanctuary are off-shoots from this initial foundation. I disagree with this, as there is sufficient individuality between the sites to suggest that they are not all of a unified purpose.143 Furthermore, the presentation of Juktas as the pre-eminent ‘peak sanctuary’ is simply a 143

As Table 1 shows, the only categories of artefact present at all the peak sanctuaries in this survey are pottery (although the vessel forms and quality does vary considerably), animal figurines, and humanoid figurines – we may also include votive limbs if we include the ‘phalloi’ from Atsipadhes. In all other categories there is a wide variation in the types of artefact and their quantities. Kophinas has weaponry in the form of bronze knives and a lead double-axe, but none of the other peaks exhibited weapons, aside from the double-axes, and even these were found at only Juktas and Vrysinas. Similarly only Juktas and Gonies have altar structures; only Juktas and Gonies have ‘horns of consecration’; Juktas, Kophinas, and Vrysinas have offering tables; even ash is not a universal feature given its total absence at Atsipadhes. If the peaks were a coherent symbolic group of sites that ideologically unified Minoan Crete then surely we should expect a greater degree of unity between these sites, effectively a cult kit. However, this is simply not the case. This may reflect one of two main variances: firstly, that the peaks were designed for the worship of different deities or, secondly, that different peaks reflect different cults for the same deity. Of these two alternatives, the former is the more likely, in my opinion, rather than the local variations in the worship of a single deity. However, whichever of these is true, it has become clear to me that the variation between the peaks casts some doubt on the universality of the cult in Crete. Of course, this also prompts another thought, one that would undercut the entire concept of the Minoan peak

See below.

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sanctuary. The term peak sanctuary and the ‘key indicators’ thereof are the construct of modern archaeologists and there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that the inhabitants of Bronze Age Crete conceived these various sites as belonging to a specific class of cult site. To some extent this must be levelled at archaeology’s continuing obsession with ‘types’, a desire to create groupings according to perceived morphological similarities, but based on the assumption that “types do exist in culture and may be discovered by competent methodologies” (Ford, 1954: 42). Ford also makes the point that ““cultural types” are abstracted on different levels of apparent complexity by the observer” (Ibid. 47), thus every archaeologist may see a different pattern and that generalisation occurs, to some extent, to allow for usable groupings to be defined. Thus we must acknowledge this fact in any discussion of the cult sites of Bronze Age Crete: that we are dealing with subclasses of a cultural system, and a cultural system itself, that have been reconstructed by generations of archaeologists and, as a result, these may be flawed.144

termed a cult site, while the latter was largely devoid of any artefacts at all, suggesting they had been removed. Therefore, out of the established cult sites with several categories of artefact, only Anemospilia is lacking in evidence for the votive deposition of figurines. Thus it would appear that a pre-eminent ritual process did not take place at Anemospilia, which serves to mark it out as being fundamentally different from the majority of Minoan cult sites. It is also curious that the two major Minoan cult ‘symbols’, at least as they are identified in the scholarship of Bronze Age Crete, the double-axe and the ‘horns of consecration’ are not present at Anemospilia. This is interesting as Anemospilia is clearly a structure of some significance, and so this must lead us to question the assumed ubiquitous-ness of these symbols in Minoan cult. Kato Syme is another site that is characterised by its quality of not fitting comfortably into any of the designated classes of ‘Minoan’ cult site. Its focus, during the Minoan period, on a large central podium makes it without parallel on Bronze Age Crete, again setting Syme apart from the other sites, and forcing us to see it as a major unique sanctuary. This is interesting given the massive history of use for the site following the end of the Minoan period. This would seem to speak volumes for the significance of the cult at Kato Syme. However, I must stress here that I do not believe that the GrecoRoman cult of Hermes and Aphrodite was the same as that practised during the Minoan period, for as Renfrew has observed “continuity of practise does not mean lack of change in that practice, and certainly cannot be taken to imply constancy of meaning” (Renfrew, 1985: 3). Thus I simply note that whatever the object of the Bronze Age cult at Kato Syme was, it left a large enough impression of its significance on the Cretan population to ensure that the cult use of the site continued on largely uninterrupted.

A similar situation to that of the peak sanctuaries exists with the cave sanctuaries. Tyree (1974) was the first to explicitly state both the limited number of cave sanctuaries and their individuality. Peatfield, likewise, concludes that the caves do not represent a single cult (in contrast to his view of the peak sanctuaries) (1992: 61). The brief survey of cave sites in this study does nothing to alter this supposition, rather the opposite in fact. The variation between the caves is very great indeed: Arkalochori is so unique that it barely seems to be a cult site at all; Skotino is sparse with finds when compared with Psychro and the Idaean Cave, as is Kamares. The one common feature across all of the caves is that the votive limbs, which seem to be a feature of the sites generally termed peak sanctuaries, are utterly absent, thus clearly marking a different cult process as being played out at these sites. The remaining categories of artefact exhibit no coherent pattern across the caves to allow any of them to serve as a defining characteristic for the group of sites listed here. The cave sites, therefore, once again seem to indicate a variety of cult practice which I would suggest would indicate the worship of a disparate collection of supernatural powers.

The urban shrines again seem to be different enough from one another to suggest that they were not unified in the object of their worship or in their significance. Again there is no overall pattern in the artefact assemblages. It is, however, noteworthy that some categories of artefact are absent from those discussed here, namely sacrificially-derived faunal remains, animal figurines, rhyta, and votive limbs. This, in my opinion, is suggestive of several points: firstly, that sacrifice was not practised in these urban and palace shrines; secondly, that the animal figurines would seem to represent a cult process that was not catered for by the urban shrines, relating to either the powers venerated or the people utilising the different cult locales; thirdly, the absence of large rhyta suggests that the libation rituals were not on the same scale as those that appear to have been practised at the peaks, caves, and extra-urban sanctuaries. This is perhaps suggestive that the libation rituals were another category of commensal rite.

The extra-urban sanctuaries of Kato Syme and Anemospilia are also unique, as they are so different (even from each other) that the fact they are discussed together in this study is simply a matter of convenience. Anemospilia is most interesting, aside from the matter of a possible human sacrifice, due to the lack of figurines in the surviving portion of the structure. Of the other sites in this survey, only Arkalochori and Salle β have a similar dearth of figurines. The former, in my opinion, cannot be 144 I acknowledge the usefulness of types for archaeological categorisation, but these types must be soundly constructed. The level of variation observable between the cult sites within these perceived categories leads me to speculate that their application has been more hasty than may be proper. However, for purposes of discussion these groupings must continue to be used until a more detailed system of classification has been implemented.

Therefore, we begin to become aware of the major variations between the cult sites of Bronze Age Crete, even within the artificial archaeological categories. 104

However, one should not deliberately overemphasise these differences as this is no better than overemphasising the similarities. To extrapolate from Ford (1954) again, the level of difference visible may be limitless depending on the observer. It must be acknowledged that there are some unifying ritual processes that seem to occur at the majority of sites, primarily libation and votive deposition. This would suggest that similar methodologies for addressing or worshipping the divine were pan-Cretan and, therefore, may be termed ‘Minoan’ in character.145 While these ritual processes may unite the island during the Bronze Age, that is different to the existence of a coherent system, although this may still exist, but it seems more complex than has been previously believed.

The concept of a Minoan priesthood is one that has been much discussed in earlier work and is significant in relation to sacrifice as in most cultures, a notable exception being Classical Greece, sacrifice was carried out by a special class of religious advocates or priests. While I find the term ‘priesthood’ to be rather loaded, I do believe that there must have been a special class of officials who were responsible for certain ritual and religious duties. However, it must be noted that these individuals may have only performed these functions at specific occasions, certainly in the case of use of animals at cult sites these seem to have been rather infrequent, and have performed other duties as well. The evidence for this class of persons is primarily iconographic. They are often identified as the figures on seals (in particular) who wear long robes and carry special apparatus. Several such figures are seen on various examples such as that in Figure 14. Zeimbekis (Unpub. MA dissertation), in her M.A. thesis The Priesthood in Crete: a Minoan Perspective, makes a number of claims for the existence of a Minoan priesthood. She divides their role into the formal standardised cult, primarily dealing with sacrifices and libations, and more ‘shamanistic’ practices which she believes occurred in the cave sanctuaries. She claims that there appears to be two separate classes of priests to fulfil these separate roles, but also that “archaeological evidence attests the paramount importance of sacrifice” (1991: 58).

However, we are far from understanding any possible system at work. The double-axe and the ‘horns of consecration’ seem to be especially confusing, primarily in regard to their function. As stated in the initial chapter, these symbols have been predominantly interpreted as relating to Minoan religion and to sacrifice in particular. The distribution of these artefacts – the physical examples of the symbols rather than their appearances as decoration on vessels, for example – shows that they are by no means common. They occur at less than 50% of the sites in this catalogue. However, when they do occur, they are usually both present: only Kophinas and Arkalochori are without a corresponding ‘horns of consecration’ for the double-axes found there.

However, I do not believe this to be true. This study has shown the limited distribution of the faunal remains in comparison to other cult paraphernalia. Thus if the evidence for sacrifice is not as widespread, then this severely limits the role of Zeimbekis’ priesthood. For it must be remembered that the entire corpus of ‘evidence’ for these priests comes from the interpretation of the iconography of seals and frescoes. The only possible ‘priest’ found in situ comes from Anemospilia, where the skeleton of the older (38 years) man with the iron-silver ring (a high-status object) is generally seen as that of the priest of the shrine. Yet this and the interpretation of other discoveries, such as the special entrance road to the north of Juktas where a supposed priest’s residence – dating to MM IIB-MM IIIB - has been found, have all resulted from the supposition that there was a discernable Minoan priesthood. While I cannot state that there was not a formal Minoan priesthood, indeed I feel that it would be very likely if there were officials responsible for the maintenance of, and other duties within, the various sanctuaries, I believe that is it somewhat irresponsible to believe they were responsible for certain rituals when there is no evidence to suggest as such. Moreover, as the practices of the Classical period of Greece reveal, sacrificial rituals are entirely possible without a distinct class of priesthood to carry out such rites. However, this remains an area of supposition and, as a result, contention.

This is interesting as it reinforces the opinion that the two symbols were complementary. This is seen frequently on pottery where the double-axe is one of several objects placed between the uprights of the ‘horns’. Although this association has been noted before it has always been treated in relation to the sacrificial weapon striking the head of the victim. Yet this combination of artefacts does not occur at Kato Syme, a site where we have abundant faunal remains. Moreover, as noted earlier, the moment of the kill, i.e. the moment of the supposed use of the axe, is never depicted. As a result of this lack of iconographic corroboration of the use of the axe, plus the limited archaeological associations between this combination of artefacts and faunal remains – they are more common at sites without faunal remains, I believe that the explicit link that has been made between these symbols and sacrifice cannot be seen to be as concrete as has been previously stated. However, it is clear that they had a symbolic significance to the cult practices of the Minoan period. Perhaps, given that a number of the examples are votive and non-functional in character, we may see them as a cult gift of a special category of individual, possibly that of a representative of the cult. 145

There is not the space here to address the suitability of the term ‘Minoan’ to describe the population of Bronze Age Crete. I trust that it will suffice to mention that I am aware of the possibility that the populations of the major settlements may have defined their identity as members of the specific settlements they inhabited rather than as the inhabitants of the island of Crete as a whole. Indeed, this notion of ‘settlement identity’ would seem to fit well with some of the evidence from Bronze Age Crete, such as the distinct regional pottery styles.

Thus in order to answer if we may legitimately speak of a “Minoan religion’, we have to define what we mean by the term. If by using the term we wish to suggest that the 105

same deities were worshipped across Bronze Age Crete and that a commonality of worship occurred at all the cult sites then the term would be a fallacy as this simply cannot be said to be the case when the archaeology is examined. The differences between the sites entail that we are unable to speak of a single site that defines Minoan religion. Similarly, the distribution of the sites seems to observe no discernable pattern, beyond the clustering of most of the peak sanctuaries in the east of the island. This would suggest that there is no centralised dictation for the development of cult sites, more that they developed along a more organic path, perhaps as per the requirements of the local communities. However, this lack of a homogenised system does not mean that the practices and concerns were entirely disparate across the island. Indeed, the practices of libation and votive deposition appear to have been widespread, and may be described as pan-Cretan if not Minoan. However, the faunal remains serve to mark out Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme as different from the other cult sites. I believe that this creates an interesting implication, namely that the sacrificial practices were carried out at those sites which had significance beyond the local population of the area around them. But this is far from ‘Minoan’, certainly as the term has been used in the past. The recent works of Hamilakis (2002b) and other scholars, particularly in the Monuments of Minos volume, have deliberately shied away from the terms that have been endemic in the study of Bronze Age Crete for over a century: ‘Palace’ has become ‘court compound’ (Driessen, 2002), for example; Hamilakis (2002b: 180, n.3) even states that the term ‘Minoan’ has “outlived its usefulness.” To some extent this is a valid comment, but there is now a danger that the archaeological stress will be laid on intra-Cretan variation as a direct rejoinder to a century of ‘Minoan’ unity. The truth, as always, will more than likely lie somewhere between these two polar extremes. Certainly in terms of ritual practice, Crete shared the same vocabulary across the island during the Bronze Age, similar methods and practices, observable through their archaeological traces, may be seen across Crete. However, to call them Minoan implies a cultural unity that may be more hoped for (in previous study) than is actually present.

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example, Stocker and Davis, 2004) it is difficult to see an Aegean Bronze Age precursor for the θυσία rite. Therefore, to use this ritual as a model for the Minoan practices would now, in my opinion, seem to be without merit.

CONCLUSIONS This study, in my opinion, has presented a view of Minoan faunal remains, and of possible sacrifices, which is very different to that presented in the past. As noted earlier, the major difference is that of the limited distribution of the faunal remains and, therefore, of any possible ritual practices which created these remains.

However, a further aspect of this study was to place these ‘commensal meat rituals’ in the context of other Bronze Age religious practices, primarily by comparing the distribution of the evidence for them across the various cult sites. It is clear by means of this simple comparison that these rituals were neither as common nor as widespread as either libation or votive deposition. Although frequency of practice is not the same as significance, such a disparity is striking, suggesting that the ‘commensal meat ritual’ was only performed upon certain special occasions. In contrast, libation and votive deposition are common to the majority of cult sites on Crete. However, this observation may be somewhat circumspect given an archaeological tendency to see these various groups of finds as indicators of distinct and separate ritual practices. The possibility remains that our various archaeological categories of ritual were not perceived as such by the Minoans. The simultaneous practise of a variety of ritual processes, while it has been referred to in previous studies, remains an area of relatively little formal scholarship in Minoan studies.

In terms of the distribution of these ‘sacrificial’ remains when compared to those artefacts which indicate other ritual processes such as libation and votive deposition it is clear that the latter practices are much more common, appearing across all classes of ritual site. The animal remains, limited as they are to Juktas, Kato Syme, and Psychro, must be seen as the remains of rites specific to these particular sites as opposed to a general pattern of practice across Minoan Crete. However, that is not to say that these sites and their rituals were not of wider significance, rather the opposite might seem to be the case. It is fair to say that many aspects of the ritual and religious practices of Bronze Age Crete share a quality of commensal experience; it is even conceivable that the personal votives were deposited during a communal gathering. This quality may be observable in regard to libation, ecstatic religion, funerary rituals, and the ceremonies involving animals at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme.

Just as other fields of Minoan study are currently undergoing a major re-evaluation, I would suggest that our efforts to understand the religious practices of Bronze Age Crete are in need of a new concentrated focus. I believe that this study has pointed out some of the major problems with previous studies of Minoan religion and, while many of the solutions require much more study, I hope that it has gone some way toward indicating possible routes of investigation.

This commensal interpretation seems to best fit the evidence of the limited skeletal elements from those cult sites which had the capability to hold a large congregation of people. However, this prompts the question of the validity of the term sacrifice for these particular ritual practices. My personal opinion, on the evidence currently available, is that the term is too loaded to be applied to the rituals involving animals at Juktas, Psychro, and Kato Syme. These rituals, while they may have had sacrificial elements, and may be viewed as such in terms of the definition stated earlier,146 are not ‘sacrifices’ in the generally used sense of the term. I would suggest that a term such as ‘commensal meat ritual’, while being more cumbersome, is more appropriate for these practices, as we have no formal evidence to suggest that a supernatural power was believed to receive any benefit or sustenance from these offerings. Moreover, even if these rituals did include a sacrificial element it has become abundantly clear that it could not be in a form similar to the Classical θυσία ritual. There is no convincing evidence for a Minoan antecedent for this ritual, as a comparison between the two zooarchaeological data sets reveals; even with the recent evidence for Mycenaean burnt sacrifice147 (for 146

See p. 9. In the instances at the Pylos palace the preserved bones were of mandibles, humeri, and femurs; very different to the sacral and caudal vertebrae and femurs that made up the remnants of the typical θυσία. Moreover, the means of preservation of the bone is also different: “The burned material thus seems to have been deposited with some care” (Stocker and Davis, 2004: 182), whereas with the θυσία ritual the remains of the sacrifices were cleaned into the general refuse of the 147

sanctuaries, a fact observable from the studies of Chenal-Velarde and Studer, and that of Forstenpointner.

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Fig gure 2. ‘Minooan incurved aaltar’ (Marinattos, 1993) Figure 1. Stonne pedestalledd offering F table from Zakros (Platoon and Pararaas, 1991: fig. 7) 7

Figure 3. Tripod T offeringg tables from the ‘House off the Sacrificed Oxen’ (PM II, fig. 175)

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Figure 4a. Simple Melian kernos (MMR fig. 45)

Figure 4b. Prototype of kernos with two cups from Pyrgos (MMR fig. 46)

Figure 4c. Prototype of kernos with three cups from Pyrgos (MMR fig. 47)

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Figure 5. Libation tabble with Lineaar A signs, from m Psychro (Boardman, 19661: fig. 28)

F Figure 6. Buull lying on a ‘sacrificial tab ble’ (Marinatos, 1986: fig. 22)

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Figure 7. ‘Sacrificial bull’, b male offficiant and ‘saccrificial symb bols’, sealing from f Malia (M Marinatos, 198 86: fig. 11)

Figgure 8. Ayia Triada T sarcophhagus. Back. (Long, ( 1974: Plate P 30, fig. 86)

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Figure 9.. ‘Sacrificial’’ procession frrom the Ship Frieze, F room 5, 5 West Housee, Akrotiri (M Marinatos, 1986: fig. 24)

Figuure 10. Bird eppiphany (Marin natos, 1988: fig. f 3)

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Figure 11. Shrine toppeed with ‘hornss of consecratiion’ from which blood is drripping. Frescoo from Xeste 3, Akrotiri (Marinnatos, 1986: fig. f 17)

Figure 12. Ayia A Triada sarcophagus. Front. F The pou uring scene, with w mounted ddouble-axes (Long, 1974: 1 Plate 15 5, fig. 37) 113

Figurre 13. Fragmennt of a Caeretaan hydra (Detienne and Verrnant, 1989: fi fig. 19)

Figure 14. ‘Priiest’ carrying a F fenestrated axe, a Vapheio (Aegaeum 11: Plate 6g )

Figure 155. Part of a moould from Palaikastro, showing s a posssible divinity with doubble-axes (MMR R fig. 112)

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Figure 166. ‘Grandstandd fresco’ from Knossos (MM MR fig. 80)

Figgure 17. Zakroo rhyton (Mariinatos, 1993: 120) 1

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Figuree 18. Isin-Larsa pot with inccised decoratioon of boat carrrying divine symbols s (Postggate, 1992: fig g. 6.10)

Figure 19. Steatite three--sided prism seal s inscribed with a boat (G Goodison, 19889: fig. 60a)

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Figure 20. The essentials of the mammalian skeleton, as illustrated by the skeleton of a red deer (O’Connor, 2000: fig. 2.2)

Figure 21. Classical altar daubed with blood (Detienne and Vernant, 1989: fig. 6)

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Figure 22. Cut marks on the long axis of the bone (Reitz and Wing, 1999: 128)

Figure 23. Gournia site plan (Moss, 2005: fig. 1.4) 118

Figure 24. Karphi altar (Pendlebury, Pendlebury, and Money-Coutts, 1937)

Figure 25. Plan and section of the Shrine of the Double Axes (PM II; fig. 190) 119

Figure 26. The Temple Repositories and vases obtained from them (Panagiotaki, 1999: Plate 24)

Figure 27. Snake Goddess figurine from Temple Repositories (Dickinson, 1994a: Plate 5.18) 120

Figure 28. Temple Repositories objects with bones reconstructed as a snake (Panagiotaki, 1999: Plate 17)

Figure 29. Objects from the Temple Repositories, with snake covered over with offering table (PM I: fig. 377)

121

Figure 30. Plan of salle β (BCH 107) 122

Figure 31. Sealing from Knossos showing two bulls on a platform (Marinatos, 1986: fig. 5)

Figure 32. Gypsadhes rhyton fragment (Aegaeum 11: Plate 21c)

123

Figure 33. Ridge of Mt. Juktas from near site of Tylissos, showing the ‘human’ profile (PM I fig. 112)

Figure 34. The ‘Chasm’ and other features at Juktas (Karetsou, 1981)

124

Figure 35. Traostalos summit plateau (Chryssoulaki, 2001: Plate 15d)

Figure 36. Plan of Kato Syme (Prent, 2005: fig. 17). (Scale 1cm: 46m).

125

Figure 37. Plan of Arkalochori (Hazzidakis, 1913) (Scale: 1cm: 69cm)

Figure 38. Idaean cave (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: fig. 8) (Scale 1cm: 9.4m)

126

Figure 39. Rock crystal seal from the Idaean cave (Rurkowski, 1986: fig. 126)

Figure 40. Plan of the Kamares cave (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: fig. 9) 127

Figure 41. Patsos cave, figurine of a sphinx (Rutkowski, 1986: fig. 66)

Figure 42. Patsos cave, bronze worshipper figurine (Rutkowski, 1986: fig. 63)

128

Figure 43. Patsos cave, bronze ‘Reshep’ figurine (Boardman, 1961: Plate 25)

Figure 44. Patsos cave, ‘horns of consecration’ (Rutkowski, 1986: fig. 61)

129

Figure 45. Isometric view of the Psychro cave (Rutkowski and Nowicki, 1996: fig. 6b)

130

Figure 46. Psychro cave. Bronze Plaque (Rutkowski, 1986: fig. 59)

Figure 47. Plan of the Skotino cave (Rutkowski, 1986: fig. 35) (1cm: 11.4m)

131

Figure 48. Skotino cave. Bronze figurines (BCH 93: Plate 11)

Figure 49. Offering tables (Panagiotaki, 1999: Pl. 21 c-e)

132

Figure 50. Offering tables from the West Temple Repository (PM I fig. 355)

Figure 51. Libation table from the sanctuary at Phaistos (MMR fig. 36)

133

Figure 52. Table of offering from Malia (MMR fig. 39)

Figure 53. Table of libation from Psychro [Restored] (MMR fig. 42)

134

Figure 54. Kernos from Koumasa (MMR fig. 44)

Figure 55. Various shapes of conical cup in section (Gillis, 1990: fig. 2) 135

Figure 56. Serpentine bull’s head rhyton from the Little Palace at Knossos (Higgins, 1981: fig. 202)

Figure 57. Ayia Triada sarcophagus. Blood draining scene (Long, 1974: Plate 31)

136

Figure 58. Ritual scene of pouring from a ewer into a jar (PM IV fig. 376a)

Figure 59. Female figurine from Traostalos (Rutkowski, 1986: fig 109) 137

Figure 60. Plan showing bone deposits fro the palace at Pylos (Stocker and Davis, 2004: fig. 1)

Figure 61. Clay model of a shrine from Kotchati (Rutkowski, 1986: fig. 166)

138

Figure 62. Horn cores and skull plate from Psychro (Boyd-Dawkins, 1902)

Figure 63. Calf in a contorted position with an arrow in the neck (Marinatos, 1986: fig. 56)

Figure 64. Two-sided seal from Crete (Marinatos, 1986: fig. 18)

139

Figure 65. Pillar crypt in House B at Gypsadhes showing offertory cups ranged in rows inside pillar (PM II fig. 348)

Figure 66. Daskaloyannis street, Khania (Andreadaki-Vlasaki, 2002: Plate 54b)

140

Figure 67. Marine ware pottery (Betancourt, 1985: Plate 20)

Figure 68. Fisherman fresco, Xeste 3, Akrotiri (Säflund, 1981: fig. 21)

141

Figure 69. The arrival town, Ship Procession Fresco, Akrotiri (Morgan, 1988: Plate 105)

Figure 70. Dancing platforms from Knossos (Warren, 1989: fig. 3)

142

Figure 71. Group from Palaikastro [Reconstructed] (MMR fig. 30)

Figure 72. Gold signet-ring from Vapheio Tomb with religious scene (PM III fig. 91)

143

Figure 73. Religious scene and ecstatic dance on gold signet from Mycenae (PM III fig. 93)

Figure 74. Gold signet-ring, from the smaller built tomb, Isopata (PM III fig. 38)

144

Figure 75. Knossos, Sacred Grove and Dance Fresco (Driessen, 2002: Plate 1a)

Figure 76. Ceramic sherd inscribed with two symbols and the head of a gazelle, from the ‘enclosed area’ in Area K, Tel Haror, Israel (Klenck, 2002: fig. 2.9)

145

Figure 77. Model from Kamilari possibly depicting the treading of grapes (Marinatos, 1993: fig. 23)

146

147

148

ABBREVIATIONS AJA Arch. Reps. BCH BSA HM JHS MMR PM SCABA

American Journal of Archaeology Archaeological Reports (Supplement to the Journal of Hellenic Studies) Bulletin de correspondence hellénique Annual of the British School at Athens Herakleion Museum (Catalogue) Journal of Hellenic Studies Nilsson, M.P., 1950, The Minoan-Mycenaean Religion and its Survival in Greek Religion, Leiden Evans, A.J. Sir, 1921-1935, The Palace Of Minos at Knossos, Vol. I: 1921, Vol. II: 1928, Vol. III: 1930, Vol. IV: 1935, London Hägg, R., and Marinatos, N. (eds.), 1981, Sanctuaries and Cults in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the First International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 12-13 May, 1980, Stockholm

Barrett, J.C., 1991, ‘Towards an Archaeology of Ritual’, in Garwood, P., Jennings, D., Skeates, R. and Toms, J. (eds.), 1991, Sacred and Profane: Proceedings of a Conference on Archaeology, Ritual and Religion, Oxford, 1989, Oxford University Committee for Archaeology Monograph No. 32: 1-9.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Abusch, T., (2002), ‘Sacrifice in Mesopotamia’, in Baumgarten, A.I. (ed.), Sacrifice in Religious Experience, Brill: 39-49. Alcock, S. and Osborne, R. (eds.), 1994, Placing the Gods: Sanctuaries and Sacred Space in Ancient Greece, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Beattie. J.H.M., 1980, ‘On Understanding Sacrifice’, in Bourdillon, M.F.C. and Fortes, M. (eds.), 1980, Sacrifice, London: 29-44

Alroth, B., 1988, ‘The Positioning of Greek Votive Figurines’, in Hägg, R., Marinatos, N. and Nordquist, G.C. (eds.), 1988, Early Greek Cult Practice: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, Stockholm: 195-203.

Bedwin, O., 1984, ‘Appendix 2: The Animal Bones’, in Popham, M.R. et al., 1984, The Minoan Unexplored Mansion at Knossos, B.S.A. Supplemental Volume 17; British School of Archaeology at Athens / Thames and Hudson (London): 307-308.

Andreadaki-Vsalaki, M., 2002, ‘Are we approaching the Minoan Palace of Khania?’, in Driessen, J., Schoep, I. and Laffineur, R. (eds.), 2002, Monuments of Minos: Rethinking the Minoan Palaces. Proceedings of the International Workshop “Crete of the Hundred Palaces”, held at the Université Catholique de Louvain, Louvain-laNeuve, 14th -15th December 2001. Aegaeum 23 : Annalès d’archéologie égéene de l’Université de Liège et UT-PASP : 157-166.

Begy, D.J.I., 2004, ‘An Interpretation of Mason’s Marks at Knossos’, in Cadogan, G., Hatzaki, E. and Vasilakis, A. (eds.), 2004, Knossos: Palace, City, State, London: British School at Athens Studies 12: 219-223. Bell, C., 1997, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions, New York / Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bergquist, B., 1988, ‘The Archaeology of Sacrifice: Minoan-Mycenaean versus Greek – A Brief Query into Two Sites with Contrary Evidence’, in Hägg, R., Marinatos, N. and Nordquist, G.C. (eds.), 1988, Early Greek Cult Practice: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, Stockholm: 21-44.

Arens, W., 1988, ‘An Anthropological Approach to Ritual: Evidence, Context and Interpretation’, in Hägg, R., Marinatos, N. and Nordquist, G.C. (eds.), 1988, Early Greek Cult Practice: Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, Stockholm: 223-228. Aubet, M.E., 2001, The Phoenicians and the West: Politics, Colonies, and Trade, Cambridge University Press.

Bergquist, B., 1993, ‘Bronze Age Sacrificial Koiné in the Eastern Mediterranean? A Study of Animal Sacrifice in the Ancient Near East’, in Quaegebeur, J. (ed.), 1993, Ritual and Sacrifice in the Ancient Near East, Leuven: 11-44.

Auffarth, C., 2005, “How to Sacrifice Correctly – Without a Manual?”, in Hägg, R. and Alroth, B. (eds.), 2005, Greek Sacrificial Ritual, Olympian and Chthonian: Proceedings of the Sixth International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, Organised by the Dept. of Classical Archaeology and Ancient History, Göteborg University, 25-27 April 1997, Göteborg: Paul Aströms Förlag: 11-21.

Betancourt, P.P., 1976, ‘The End of the Greek Bronze Age’, Antiquity 50: 40-47. Betancourt, P.P., 1985, The History of Minoan Pottery, Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. 149

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