The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East Volume IV: The Age of Assyria 0190687630, 9780190687632

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The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East

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The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East Editors: Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts This groundbreaking, five-volume series offers a comprehensive, fully illustrated history of Egypt and Western Asia (the Levant, Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and Iran), from the emergence of complex states to the conquest of Alexander the Great. Written by a highly diverse, interna­ tional team of leading scholars, whose expertise brings to life the people, places, and times of the remote past, the volumes in this series focus firmly on the political and social histories of the states and communities of the ancient Near East. Individual chapters present the key textual and material sources underpinning the historical reconstruction, paying par­ ticular attention to the most recent archaeological finds and their impact on our historical understanding of the periods surveyed. Volume 1: From the Beginnings to Old Kingdom Egypt and the Dynasty of Akkad Volume 2: From the End of the Third Millennium bc to the Fall of Babylon Volume 3: From the Hyksos to the Late Second Millennium bc Volume 4: The Age of Assyria

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The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East Volume IV: The Age of Assyria

z Edited by KAREN RADNER NADINE MOELLER D. T. POTTS

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1 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2023 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. CIP data is on file at the Library of Congress ISBN 978–​0–​19–​068763–​2 DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.001.0001 Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America

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Contents

Preface 

vii

Time Chart 

xi

The Contributors 

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Abbreviations 

xxi

35. Egypt before the Saites ( Jean Li) 

1

36. Kush under the Dynasty of Napata (Geoff Emberling) 

82

37. Assyria from Tiglath-​pileser I to Ashurnasirpal II (Daisuke Shibata) 

161

38. The Assyrian Empire: A View from Within (Heather D. Baker) 

257

39. The Assyrian Empire in Contact with the World ( Jamie Novotny) 

352

40. The Assyrian Empire: Perspectives on Culture and Society (Frederick Mario Fales) 

425

41. Babylonia from Nebuchadnezzar I to Tiglath-​pileser III ( John P. Nielsen) 

520

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Contents

42. Elam in the Iron Age (Alexa Bartelmus) 

588

43. The Medes and the Kingdom of Mannea (Andreas Fuchs)  674 44. The Kingdom of Urartu (Yervand Grekyan) 

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45. The Kingdom of Phrygia (Annick Payne) 

865

46. The Iron Age States of Central Anatolia and Northern Syria (Mark Weeden) 

912

47. The Iron Age States on the Phoenician Coast (Françoise Briquel Chatonnet)  48. The Kingdoms of Israel and Judah (Omer Sergi)  Index 

1027 1115 1207

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Preface

The fourth volume of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East covers the period from the end of the second to the middle of the first millennium bc, ca. 1100–​600 bc. Fifteen chapters present the history of the Near East during “The Age of Assyria,” from the formative period of the Assyrian Empire in the aftermath of the great migrations marking the end of the Late Bronze Age to this influential state’s disintegration (­chapters 37–​40). In Egypt, this corresponds to the so-​called Third Intermediate Period (­chapter 35), when the lands on the Nile were rarely united and frequently under the control of external rulers, most importantly members of the Nubian royal house of Napata (­chapter 36). Egypt’s fate broadly matched the historical trajectory of Babylonia (­chapter 41), in which the Assyrian Empire and the southwest Iranian kingdom of Elam (­chapter 42) often influenced and sometimes dominated local politics. While this period witnessed the emergence of the state of Mannea in northwestern Iran (­ chapter 43), the mountain kingdom of Urartu (­ chapter 44) further north, in northwestern Iran, Armenia, and eastern Anatolia, was Assyria’s most serious rival. Further to the west, in central and western Anatolia, a mosaic of small states positioned themselves as the heirs of the Hittite Empire (­chapter 46), with the kingdom of Phrygia gaining control over the former imperial heartland (­chapter 45). This was also the time when some of the city-​states on the Phoenician coast launched their fleets across the Mediterranean Sea to found colonies as far away as the Atlantic coast (­chapter 47), and when the kingdoms of Israel and Judah flourished (­chapter 48). All of these states were affected to

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Preface

varying degrees by the expansion of the Assyrian Empire, especially from the mid-​eighth century bc onward, and also by its collapse, a process hastened by the armies of the newly constituted kingdoms of Babylon (­chapter 50 in volume 5) and Media (­chapter 43). The volume charts the fate of these regions down to the disintegration of the Assyrian Empire. Assyria dominates this volume also in terms of the chronological reconstructions attempted by modern scholars. Ultimately, all local chronologies, even those of Egypt and Kush, are dependent on synchronisms with Assyria where king lists and eponym lists (which record the sequence of the high-​ranking individuals that had the privilege to lend their names to a given year) exist that can be absolutely dated due to the fact that a solar eclipse of 763 bc has been recorded. Several of the chapters in the present volume discuss the challenges of reconstructing the sequence of local rulers and the various sources and diverse strategies harnessed in order to overcome these difficulties, notably c­hapter 35 for Egypt, ­chapter 42 for Elam, ­chapter 44 for Urartu, and ­chapter 46 on northern Syria and Central Anatolia. The following Time Chart presents a concise overview of the chronological coverage of this volume, focusing on the most important states. The chart also includes the sequence of the kings of Israel and Judah, who will be familiar to many readers from the Bible, although their contemporary influence was far more limited than that of the Assyrian, Babylonian, Urartian, and Egyptian rulers recorded in the chart. The chart’s later parts should be consulted together with the Time Chart given in the fifth volume of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East, as there is some chronological overlap. This volume’s cover depicts the fourth example in our collection of five beautiful cylinder seals selected from different parts of the Middle East to grace the individual covers of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. The exquisite carnelian seal depicts a winged and bearded hero, wielding a scimitar, who stands with one foot on the head of an inverted bull, while grasping its rear right leg, and faces a standing lion. It is engraved in Akkadian cuneiform with an inscription that identifies its owner and offers a short prayer on his behalf: “Nabû-​nadin-​šumi son of Aššur-​. . .—​may the god Nabû grant him life!” The seal is probably Babylonian, but displays the influence of the Middle Assyrian modeled

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Preface

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style. Acquired sometime between 1885 and 1908 by Pierpont Morgan, it is housed in the collection of the Morgan Library & Museum (accession number 0747). In transcribing Egyptian proper nouns, we follow the conventions of The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, edited by Ian Shaw (OUP 2004, rev. ed.). We do not use hyphenation to separate the components of Urartian, or Luwian, Median, and other Indo-​European personal names, but we follow normal practice in marking the individual words within Semitic proper nouns (e.g., Marduk-​ zakir-​ šumi; Abi-​ Ba‘al; or Imgur-​ Enlil). Whenever a person or place is widely known by a conventional spelling, we use that (e.g., Shalmaneser instead of Salmanu-​ašared; Sennacherib instead of Sin-​ahhe-​eriba; Nineveh instead of Ninua). We do not mark long vowels in proper nouns, including modern Arabic and Persian place names. Abbreviations used for classical authors and their works follow The Oxford Classical Dictionary, edited by Simon Hornblower, Antony Spawforth, and Esther Eidinow (OUP 2012, 4th ed.). Our editorial work on the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East was supported by the Center for Advanced Studies of LMU Munich (CASLMU), which awarded fellowships to Nadine Moeller and Dan Potts in July 2016, 2017, and 2018, and again in 2020 and 2021, although these could not be taken up because of the impact of the COVID-​19 (Sars-​CoV-​2) pandemic on travel and face-​to-​face interaction. However, the weeks spent together in Munich in 2016–​2018 enabled us to lay the groundwork that underpins this volume, in particular structuring the book and recruiting the scholars who would take on the individual chapters. Like the previous volumes of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East, this book showcases the talent and expertise of a diverse set of distinguished scholars from across the globe, each a recognized expert in their subject area, in order to offer new and often also complementary perspectives on the history of northeastern Africa, the eastern Mediterranean, and the Middle East from the eleventh to the seventh century bc. We are grateful to all of them for taking the time to contribute the fourteen chapters that constitute the present volume, covering “The Age of Assyria.” Draft manuscripts for the chapters were received between May 2019 and October 2021.

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Preface

Due to the pandemic, all of the joint editorial work on the chapters of this fourth volume had to be accomplished without the chance to meet and discuss issues in person. That the process was nevertheless productive and invariably smooth is owed to our joint GoogleDrive folders and our WhatsApp group, and to the trust and solid routines established over the five years that have passed since we three editors first began working on this large-​scale publication project in 2016 at the behest of our friend and editor at Oxford University Press, Stefan Vranka. We are very grateful that the generous funding of the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, granted in the form of the International Award for Research in Germany to Karen Radner in 2015–​2020 and, since 2020, funds made available by LMU Munich, allowed us to secure the help of several individuals whose expertise and attention to detail greatly facilitated the editing of this volume. At LMU Munich, Denise Bolton language-​edited most of the chapters; Thomas Seidler reviewed and consolidated the chapter bibliographies, and standardized the references to classical authors; Philipp Seyr harmonized Egyptian names and spelling; and Dr. Andrea Squitieri created the cartography for the individual chapters. We were fortunate that Luiza Osorio Guimarães da Silva (University of Chicago) was again willing to prepare the index, and her careful work was yet again crucial in harmonizing the spellings of proper nouns across chapters and volumes. On this and earlier volumes, our editor Stefan Vranka supported our work at every stage of the project. To all of these friends and colleagues, and especially to our authors, we owe heartfelt thanks for contributing to the realization of this book, despite the many challenges we have all faced in 2020 and 2021.

1000 BC

1050 BC

Amenemope (991–​981)

Psusennes I (1039–​991)

Amenemnisu (1043–​1039)

Smendes (1069–​1043)

Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi (1004–​988)

Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe (1007–​1005)

Ea-​mukin-​zeri (1008)

Simbar-​Šipak (1025–​1008)

Aššur-​rabi II (1012–​972)

Nabû-​šumu-​libur (1033–​1026)

Aššur-​nerari IV (1018–​1013)

Marduk-​zera-​ibni (1045–​1034) Shalmaneser II (1030–​1019)

Ashurnasirpal I (1049–​1031)

Marduk-​ahhe-​eriba (1046)

Adad-​apla-​iddina (1068–​1047)

Šamši-​Adad IV (1053–​1050)

Marduk-​šapik-​zeri (1081–​1069)

Erība-​Adad II (1055–​1054)

Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe (1099–​1082)

Enlil-​nadin-​apli (1103–​1100)

Nebuchadnezzar I (1125–​1104)

Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi (1131–​1126)

Itti-​Marduk-​balaṭu (1139–​1132)

Marduk-​kabit-​ahhešu (1157–​1140)

Aššur-​bel-​kala (1073–​1056)

Tiglath–​pileser I (1114–​1076)

Babylon Second Dynasty of Isin (1157–​1026)

Mesopotamia

Ašared-​apil-​Ekur (1075–​1074)

...

Assyria

Dynasty 21

Levant

Third Intermediate Period (1069–​656)

Egypt and Nubia

Time Chart Anatolia

Iran

...

Hutelutuš-​Inšušinak

...

Elam

xi

800 BC

900 BC

Israel

Judah

Kashta (755–​743)

The Kushite kings: Dynasty 25

...

...

Jeroboam II

Joash

Joahaz

Jehu

Azariah

Amaziah

Jehoash

Aššur-​nerari V (754–​745)

Aššur-​dan III (772–​755)

Shalmaneser IV (782–​773)

Adad-​nerari III (810–​783)

Šamši-​Adad V (823–​811)

...

Joram

Shalmaneser III (858–​824)

Jehoram

Ahab

Ahaziah

Tukulti-​Ninurta II (890–​884) Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859)

...

Adad-​nerari II (911–​891)

...

...

Omri

Takelot I (887–​873)

Osorkon I (922–​887)

Nabû-​šuma-​iškun ( . . . –​748)

Eriba-​Marduk

Marduk-​apla-​uṣur

Marduk-​bel-​zeri

Ninurta-​apla-​[ . . . ]

Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi

Marduk-​zakir-​šumi I

Nabû-​apla-​iddina

Nabû-​šuma-​ukin I

Šamaš-​mudammiq

Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur II (943) Aššur-​dan II (934–​912)

Mar-​biti-​ahhe-​iddina (942–​. . . )

Nabû-​mukin-​apli (978–​943)

Mar-​biti-​apla-​uṣur (984–​979)

Sheshonq I (943–​922)

Tiglath-​pileser II (966–​935)

Aššur-​reša-​iši II (971–​967)

Širikti-​Šuqamuna (985)

Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur I (987–​985)

The Libyan kings: Dynasties 22−24

Psusennes II (957–​943)

Siamun (975–​957)

Osorkon the Elder (981–​975)

Sarduri II s. Argišti

Argišti I s. Minua

Minua s. Išpuini

Išpuini s. Sarduri

Sarduri I s. Lutipri

Arame

Urartu

...

...

...

xi

600 BC

700 BC Amon Josiah

Taharqo (690–​664)

Tanutamani (664–​656)

Zedekiah

Jehoiakim

Jehoahaz

Manasseh

Sargon II (721–​705)

Nabopolassar (625–​605)

Aššur-​uballiṭ II (611–​609)

...

Media

...

Te’umman

...

Rusa IV s. Rusa

Rusa III s. Erimena Astyages (585–​549)

Erimena s.? Sarduri Cyaxares (624–​585)

Sarduri III s. Rusa Sarduri IV s. Sarduri

... Neo-​Babylonian Dynasty (625–​539)

Rusa II s. Argišti

Sin-​šarru-​iškun (626–​612)

Nebuchadnezzar II (604–​562)

...

Ummanigaš/​ ”Huban-​nikaš I”

Argišti II s. Rusa “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II”

Rusa I s. Sarduri

Aššur-​etel-​ilani (630–​627)

Kandalanu (647–​627)

...

Marduk-​apla-​iddina II (721–​710, 703)

Ashurbanipal (668–​631)

Esarhaddon (680–​669)

Sennacherib (704–​681)

...

Mukin-​zeri (731–​729)

Hezekiah

Hoshea

Shalmaneser V (726–​722)

Nabû-​nadin-​zeri (733–​732)

Nabonassar (747–​734)

Ahaz

Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727)

Pekah

Jotham

Pekahiah

Menahem

Shabaqo (705–​690)

Shabataqo (713–​705)

Piankhy (743–​713)

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The Contributors

Heather D. Baker (DPhil, Oxford) is Associate Professor of Ancient Near Eastern History at the University of Toronto. Her research focuses on the social and economic history and material culture of first millennium bc Mesopotamia, with a particular interest in Babylonian urbanism. Her books include The Archive of the Nappahu family (Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien, 2004), Neo-​Assyrian specialists: crafts, offices, and other professional designations (The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2017), and as editor, The prosopography of the Neo-​ Assyrian Empire, volumes 2–​3 (The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1999–​2011) and, with Michael Jursa, Approaching the Babylonian economy (Ugarit-​Verlag, 2005) and Documentary sources in Ancient Near Eastern and Greco-​Roman economic history (Oxbow, 2014). Alexa Bartelmus (PhD LMU Munich) studied Assyriology, Semitic Studies, and Ancient History at Munich and Oxford. A specialist in Babylonian culture and history in the Kassite period, she has authored the monograph Fragmente einer großen Sprache: Sumerisch im Kontext der Schreiberausbildung des kassitenzeitlichen Babylonien (De Gruyter, 2016) and co-​edited, with Katja Sternitzke, the conference volume Karduniaš: Babylonia under the Kassites (De Gruyter, 2017). After positions at LMU’s Institute of Assyriology and at the Center of Near and Middle Eastern Studies at Marburg University, she is currently Wissenschaftliche Assistentin at the Department of History at LMU Munich.

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Françoise Briquel Chatonnet is a historian of the West Semitic world in the first millennium bc as well as of the culture of the Syriac (Aramaic) Christians. A member of the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-​Lettres, she is a Senior Researcher in the French National Center of Scientific Research (CNRS) in the research unit “Orient et Méditerranée” (Paris). Geoff Emberling (PhD, University of Michigan) is Associate Research Scientist at the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan. He has directed archaeological projects at Tell Brak (Syria) and more recently in Sudan: first a salvage project at the Fourth Cataract, then the later Kushite royal cemetery at el-​Kurru. His current project is at Gebel Barkal, the temple center and capital city of Kush in the first millennium bc. His recent work includes Graffiti as devotion along the Nile and beyond (Kelsey Museum, 2019), co-​edited with Suzanne Davis, a volume published in conjunction with an exhibit at the Kelsey Museum. Frederick Mario Fales retired from his position as Full Professor of Ancient Near Eastern History at the University of Udine in 2016, which he had held since 1994. Trained at the universities of Rome and Heidelberg, he had previously taught at the universities of Venice, Padova, and Verona. The founding editor of the State Archives of Assyria Bulletin and the monograph series History of the Ancient Near East, he publishes widely, especially on the Assyrian Empire and its society, people, and textual sources, as well as on Aramaic studies and the history of Ancient Near Eastern medicine, in addition to having directed archaeological excavations and surveys in Iraq (including the Kurdish Autonomous Region), Syria, and Turkey from 1984 to 2012. Andreas Fuchs (PhD, University of Göttingen) is Professor of Ancient Near Eastern Studies at the Eberhard-​Karls-​Universität Tübingen. His research focuses on the history, historiography, and historical geography of the ancient Near East in the Neo-​Assyrian period. His numerous publications include the monographs Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad (Cuvillier Verlag, 1994), Die Annalen des Jahres 711 v. Chr. nach Prismenfragmenten aus Ninive und Assur (The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1998) and, with Simo Parpola, The correspondence

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of Sargon II, part III: letters from Babylonia and the Eastern Provinces (Helsinki University Press, 2001). Yervand Grekyan (PhD, Institute of Oriental Studies 2002, Habilitation, Institute of Archaeology and Ethnography 2016, both at the National Academy of Sciences of Armenia) is an Associate Professor of History at the Armenian State Pedagogical University in Yerevan. His publications include close to a hundred articles and book chapters on the history and culture of the Armenian highlands during the Late Bronze and Iron Ages. A deputy editor of the journal Aramazd, he is currently working on a book on the state structure and society of the Urartian kingdom and an atlas of the historical geography and archaeology of Urartu. Jean Li (PhD, University of California, Berkeley) is Associate Professor in the Department of History at Toronto Metropolitan University (previously known as Ryerson University). Her primary research focuses on identity and gender in Egypt during the Third Intermediate Period, as discussed in her monograph Women, gender and identity in Third Intermediate Period Egypt: the Theban case study (Routledge, 2017). She has also explored applications of digital and robotic technologies in archaeological fieldwork at the UC Berkeley Excavations at El Hibeh project in Egypt, for which she is an Associate Director. Nadine Moeller (PhD, University of Cambridge) is Professor of Egyptian Archaeology at Yale University. Her research focuses on ancient Egyptian urbanism, on which she has published the monograph The archaeology of urbanism in Ancient Egypt (Cambridge University Press, 2016). She has participated in numerous fieldwork projects in Egypt, and since 2001, she has been directing excavations at Tell Edfu in southern Egypt. John P. Nielsen (PhD, University of Chicago) is an Associate Professor in the Department of History at Bradley University. His research focuses on the social and political history of Babylonia in the first half of the first millennium bc, with an emphasis on the centuries of Assyrian preeminence. He is the author of Sons and descendants: a social history of kin groups and family names in the early Neo-​Babylonian Period, 747–​626 BC

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The Contributors

(Brill, 2010) and The reign of Nebuchadnezzar I in history and historical memory (Routledge, 2018), in addition to several articles and book chapters. Jamie Novotny (PhD, University of Toronto) is a tenured Senior Researcher (“Akademischer Oberrat”) at LMU Munich and, with Karen Radner, co-​director of the Munich Open-​Access Cuneiform Corpus Initiative. Specializing in the history of the Assyrian Empire and its textual remains, his numerous publications include the monographs The royal inscriptions of Sennacherib, king of Assyria (704–​681 BC) (with A. Kirk Grayson; Eisenbrauns, 2012–​2014) and The royal inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 BC), Aššur-​etel-​ilāni (630–​627 BC), and Sîn-​šarra-​iškun (626–​612 BC), kings of Assyria (with Joshua Jeffers; Eisenbrauns, 2018). Annick Payne is a Lecturer in Ancient Near Eastern languages at the University of Bern, as well as an Associated Researcher of its Center for Global Studies. Her research focuses on Anatolian languages and writing systems, especially Anatolian hieroglyphic and alphabetic writing. She is the epigrapher of the excavations at Sirkeli Höyük and Adana-​ Tepebağ. Her books include Hieroglyphic Luwian texts in translation (SBL Press, 2012), Hieroglyphic Luwian: an introduction with original texts (Harrassowitz, 2014) and Schrift und Schriftlichkeit: die anatolische Hieroglyphenschrift (Harrassowitz, 2015). Daniel T. Potts (PhD, Harvard University) is Professor of Ancient Near Eastern Archaeology and History at the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, New York University. A Corresponding Member of the German Archaeological Institute, he has worked in Iran, the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Armenia, and the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq. His numerous books include The archaeology of Elam: formation and transformation of an ancient Iranian state (Cambridge University Press, 2nd ed., 2015) and Nomadism in Iran: from antiquity to the modern era (Oxford University Press, 2014).

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The Contributors

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Karen Radner (PhD, University of Vienna) holds the Alexander von Humboldt Chair of the Ancient History of the Near and Middle East at LMU Munich. A member of the German Archaeological Institute and the Bavarian Academy of Sciences and Humanities, her numerous books include Ancient Assyria: a very short introduction (Oxford University Press, 2015) and A short history of Babylon (Bloomsbury, 2020) as well as editions of cuneiform archives from Iraq, Syria, and Turkey. Omer Sergi (PhD, Tel Aviv University) is a senior lecturer in the Department of Archaeology and Ancient Near Eastern Cultures at Tel Aviv University. An expert in the archaeology of the southern Levant in the Bronze and Iron Ages, he works on biblical history and archaeology. His publications include the monograph The two houses of Israel: state formation in Israel and Judah and the origins of Pan-​Israelite identity (SBL Press, 2023). He co-directed the excavations of Ḥorvat Tevet ( Jezreel Valley), and currently co-​directs the excavations in Tel Shaddud, also in the Jezreel Valley. Daisuke Shibata (PhD, University of Heidelberg) is Associate Professor of Ancient West Asian History at the University of Tsukuba. His research focuses on the social and political history of Assyria during the late second millennium bc as well as the study of Sumero-​ Akkadian bilingual prayers. He also serves as an epigrapher for the excavations at Tell Taban (Syria). His monograph Šuʾila: die sumerischen Handerhebungsgebete aus dem Repertoire des Klagesängers (Harrassowitz, 2021) is a comprehensive edition and discussion of all known exemplars of the Sumerian “hand-​raising prayers” recited by the lamentation priests. Mark Weeden (PhD, SOAS University of London) concentrates his research on the ancient written cultures of northern Syria and Anatolia, particularly cuneiform and Anatolian Hieroglyphic. He is Associate Professor in Ancient Middle Eastern Languages at the Department of Greek and Latin at University College London. The editor-​in-​chief of

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The Contributors

the Ancient Near East section of Brill’s Handbook of Oriental Studies series and co-​editor of the journal Iraq, his books include Hittite logograms and Hittite scholarship (Harrassowitz, 2011) and, edited together with Lee Ullmann, Hittite landscape and geography (Brill, 2017). He is an epigrapher for various archaeological projects, including the Japanese Institute of Anatolian Archaeology excavations at Kaman-​Kalehöyük, Büklükale, and Yassıhöyük and the University of Toronto excavations at Tell Tayınat.

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Abbreviations

AfO AJA ÄL AMIT AnSt AoF ARTA ASAE AWE BA BaM BASOR BiOr BN CAD CRAIBL CRIPEL GM HeBAI IEJ IrAnt IstMit JANEH JANES

Archiv für Orientforschung American Journal of Archaeology Ägypten & Levante Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran and Turan Anatolian Studies Altorientalische Forschungen Achaemenid Research on Texts and Archaeology Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte Ancient West and East Biblical Archaeologist Baghdader Mitteilungen Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bibliotheca Orientalia Biblische Notizen The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago Comptes-​rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-​Lettres Cahiers de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et d’Égyptologie de Lille Göttinger Miszellen Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel Israel Exploration Journal Iranica Antiqua Istanbuler Mitteilungen Journal of Ancient Near Eastern History Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society

xxi

xxii JAOS JARCE JCS JCSMS JEA JNES NABU NEA OA OJA RA RB RlA SAAB SAK UF VDI VT WdO ZA ZAR ZÄS ZDPV

Abbreviations Journal of the American Oriental Schools Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt Journal of Cuneiform Studies Journal of the Canadian Society for Mesopotamian Studies Journal of Egyptian Archaeology Journal of Near Eastern Studies Nouvelles Assyriologiques brèves et utilitaires Near Eastern Archaeology Oriens Antiquus Oxford Journal of Archaeology Revue d’Assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale Revue biblique Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie State Archives of Assyria Bulletin Studien zur altägyptischen Kultur Ugarit-​Forschungen Vestnik drevnej istorii Vetus Testamentum Die Welt des Orients Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-​Vereins

The abbreviations used for classical authors and their works follow The Oxford Classical Dictionary, edited by S. Hornblower, A. Spawforth, and E. Eidinow (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012, 4th ed.). Ach. Tat. Achilles Tatius Arist. Pol. Aristotle, Politica August. Ad Rom. Augustine, Epistolae ad Romanos Inchoata Expositio Curt. Q. Curtius Rufus, Historiae Alexandri Magni Diod. Sic. Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca Historica Diog. Laert. Diogenes Laertius, Vitae Philosophorum

xxi

Abbreviations

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Euseb. Hist. eccl. Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica FGrH Numbers according to Jacoby, F., Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. Berlin: Weidmann, 1923− and Worthington, I. (ed.), Brill’s New Jacoby. Leiden: Brill, 2006−. Retrieved from https://​ref​eren​cewo​rks.bril​lonl​ ine.com/​bro​wse/​brill-​s-​new-​jac​oby (last accessed January 16, 2021). Hdt. Herodotus, Histories Hom. Il. Homer, Iliad Hyg. Fab. Hyginus, Fabulae Joseph. AJ Josephus, Antiquitates Judaicae Joseph. Ap. Josephus, Contra Apionem Just. Epit. Justinus, Epitome (of Trogus) Luc. Syr. D. Lucian, De Syria Dea Ov. Met. Ovid, Metamorphoses Paus. Pausanias, Hellados Periegesis Pl. Phdr. Plato, Phaedrus Plin. HN Pliny (the Elder), Naturalis Historia Plut. Vit. Alex. Plutarch, Vitae Parallelae: Alexander Plut. Vit. Caes. Plutarch, Vitae Parallelae: Caesar Procop. Vand. Procopius, De Bello Vandalico Str. Strabo, Geographika Vell. Pat. Velleius Paterculus, Historia Romana Xen. An. Xenophon, Anabasis

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Egypt before the Saites Jean Li

35.1. Introduction With the collapse of the Late Bronze Age international system at the end of the second millennium bc came many changes. Egypt’s Twentieth Dynasty gradually weakened to the point that the last king, Rameses XI (1099–​1069 bc), was forced to share power with the High Priest of Amun based at the ancient city of Thebes (­chapter 27 in volume 3). The last years of the reign of Rameses XI were known as the wehem mesut, literally, repeating of births, a name intended to evoke a renaissance of power and might that was never achieved. The wehem mesut set the foundations for the social, cultural, and political character of the subsequent stage of Egypt’s history, the Third Intermediate Period (figure 35.1). Commonly acknowledged to span from the end of the wehem mesut to the ascension of the Saite Dynasty 26 in 664 bc (­chapter 49 in volume 5), the Third Intermediate Period is subject to ambiguities and lacunae, as well as debates and controversies both in terms of historical development and scholarship. A discussion of the Third Intermediate Period needs to take into account the chronology (section 35.2), the political history (section 35.3), and the sociocultural developments (section 35.4), as well as the sources that inform our assessment. Jean Li, Egypt before the Saites In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0035

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Figure 35.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 35. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

In the framework of Egyptological scholarship, “intermediate periods” are so called because they appear as breaks from the seemingly stable and unified traditions of the Egyptian kingdoms (Old, Middle, and New). While kingdoms are described as times of strength and sociopolitical unity, intermediate periods are often characterized by periods of political fragmentation marked by weakness and the deterioration of traditional Egyptian culture. However, this simple characterization of

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Egyptian culture and history as cycles of strength and weakness, unity and fragmentation should be reframed. The examination of the cultural developments of the Third Intermediate Period demonstrates that it was a period that continued the processes and trajectories of what came before, shaped by and changed in response to the conditions of the previous generations. A time of tradition and innovation, marked by a tension between a desire to honor the past and to meet the needs of the present, the Third Intermediate Period was a period of complexity, nuance, and a case study with which the underlying mechanism of culture may be examined. Egypt before the Saites was a dynamic period of diffusion of power, participation of historically marginal groups (foreigners and women), and innovative interpretations of cultural concepts and practices, such as kingship, afterlife, religion, and written and material culture. Virtually all aspects of the history, archaeology, and social and cultural developments of this era are complex, imperfectly understood, and subject to continued revision.

35.2.  Chronological issues The chronology of Egypt in the first half of the first millennium bc is debated. There is a lack of certainty in virtually all dates that can be associated with the Third Intermediate Period. While there appears to be a variety of plentiful sources for our reconstruction, these sources are piecemeal, and secure dating and attribution are difficult. For this period, we rely on prosopography pieced together from scattered inscriptions on coffins, steles, papyri, and other funerary goods, often found in disturbed contexts, and mostly from Upper Egyptian sites, specifically the Theban area. At Thebes, the Karnak Nile level records constitute an important source for the reconstruction of the kings of the different dynasties. Other sources include land donation steles that provide demographic and political information about Lower Egypt. Further Lower Egyptian sources also include steles commemorating the deaths and installations of Apis bulls. The personages, rulers, and dates associated with these Egyptian sources are corroborated by

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external sources from the Assyrian Empire and the Levant, but those, too, have their own inherent chronological issues. Given the lacunae in the documentary records, the chronology of the Third Intermediate Period has received a tremendous amount of attention from scholars. The seminal history of the period remains Kenneth Kitchen’s monograph The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt, first published in 1973. Kitchen’s reconstruction and chronology form the basis for the conventional chronology of the Third Intermediate Period, a subject of much contemporary scholarly debate and revision.1 In the conventional chronology, the Third Intermediate Period spans the time from 1069 to 664 bc, and constitutes the Twenty-​first to the Twenty-​fifth Dynasties. While chronology is indisputably the backbone of history, given the dating issues associated with this chronology, it is perhaps more useful to also discuss the period as constituting four political phases that impacted social development and cultural trends. Phase one is characterized by the bifurcation of power between north and south, when kings of the Twenty-​first Dynasty possessed nominal rule over the state, but in reality shared power with the priesthood of Amun in Thebes, headed by the High Priests of Amun, who were also commanders of the army. This bifurcated rule resulted from developing New Kingdom ideas of the theocratic rule of Amun as king of Egypt, assisted by the king and high priest.2 By the end of the first phase, there was a move toward a reunification/​coalescence of powers under the traditional model of kingship, as the members of the same family came to occupy the offices of king and High Priest of Amun. The second phase witnessed the ascent of individuals of Libyan background to the throne of Egypt at the end of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, which inaugurated the Twenty-​ second, or Libyan, Dynasty. Although in this phase there was one king who ruled over all of Egypt, and there was no official policy of sharing power with Thebes, there was perhaps more political fragmentation than in the previous phase. The Libyan kings of the early Twenty-​second 1. Note that when regnal dates are given for the rulers of the Third Intermediate Period in the present chapter, they are those of Payraudeau 2020: 555–​557. 2. Payraudeau 2020: 63. See also Helck 1977: 822–​823; Jansen-​Winkeln 2001: 153–​182.

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Dynasty held power through the distribution of important roles and functions to members of their extended family. As a result, by the second half of the Dynasty, collateral branches of this family began to vie for control of the throne, marking the third phase of the period. During this third phase of developments, there was not only competition between collateral Libyan dynasties, but also the rise of Egyptian powers in the delta. The competition between the Twenty-​second, Twenty-​third, and Twenty-​fourth Dynasties fragmented Egypt further, creating the conditions that allowed the annexation of Egypt by Kushite Nubians. The Nubian kings who resided in Egypt marked the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty and the fourth and final phase of the Third Intermediate Period. Kushite kings ruled Egypt until their defeat by the Assyrians and the ascension of the Saite Twenty-​sixth Dynasty, when rule over Egypt was returned to the hands of Egyptians.

35.3.  Political developments

35.3.1.  The Twenty-​first Dynasty: Of kings and high priests The first king of the Twenty-​first Dynasty was Smendes (1069–​1043 bc), whose name Nesubanebdjed (“He Belongs to the Ram, the Lord of Mendes”) probably indicated his northern origins, since Mendes was located in the central Nile delta. In the literary composition known today as the “Account of Wenamun,”3 the Theban government official Wenamun, when sent by the High Priest of Amun, Herihor, to the Levant in order to acquire cedar wood, had to pay homage to the ruler Smendes and his queen, Tanetamun, in Lower Egypt before he could exit the Nile region.4 Smendes likely bridged the transition between the wehem mesut era and the beginning of the Third Intermediate Period. With the end of the wehem mesut, Smendes marked his legitimacy and

3. Papyrus Pushkin 120. For the edition, see Caminos 1977; for discussion, see Schipper 2005; and for an accessible translation, see Lichtheim 1976: 224–​230. 4. Kitchen 1986: 250; Jansen-​Winkeln 2006; 2017; Ritner 2009: 92.

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ties to the previous era with a Ramesside style titulary and epithets such as Meryamun.5 Although Smendes likely had a twenty-​six-​year long reign, there are relatively few secure attestations of this king. His activities at Thebes were restricted to work done at the Khonsu temple at Karnak. The Dibabieh Quarry Stele details an expedition of 3,000 men to quarry stone for the repair of the Luxor temple.6 Also from information included in the Dibabieh Stele, Smendes appears to have been a traditional king, whose authority, at least at the beginning of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, was recognized throughout Egypt. However, his hold on power appears to have deteriorated by Year 16, when the High Priest of Amun Pinudjem I’s name began to be written in a cartouche in the Theban records (such as the dockets of tomb renewals), thus laying claim to royal status. For the remaining years of Smendes’s reign, the High Priest of Amun steadily gained power and authority in the south.7 Smendes may have been buried in the royal necropolis at Tanis (abbreviated as NRT, from the French Nécropole Royale de Tanis), although his tomb may have been usurped by Osorkon II.8 As with the case of the kings at Tanis, the transition in the office of the High Priest of Amun at Thebes from the wehem mesut era into the Twenty-​first Dynasty is problematic. The conventional understanding is that the wehem mesut concluded with Piankhy’s succession of the office that was held by Herihor, who is mentioned as a contemporary of Smendes in the “Account of Wenamun.” Piankhy’s direct descendants then became the first High Priests of Amun of the Third Intermediate Period. However, Karl Jansen-​Winkeln suggested that Piankhy was Herihor’s predecessor,9 and Aidan Dodson suggests that Herihor was both the predecessor and successor to Piankhy,10 due to the tumultuous 5. Leprohon 2013: 138. 6. Ritner 2009: 103. 7. Kitchen 1986: 258–​259. 8. Dodson 2012: 41–​42. 9. Jansen-​Winkeln 2006: 226. 10. Dodson 2012: 19.

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years of Piankhy’s office in which he fought against the Nubian viceroy Panehsy. This debate in turn has implications concerning the usurpation of royal prerogatives as the first step in the change in conception of kingship evident in the Twenty-​first Dynasty. Whatever the chronological issues are with the two main characters of the wehem mesut era, the succession of the High Priests of Amun at the beginning of the Third Intermediate Period proper is not disputed: Pinudjem I (son of Piankhy), Masaharta, Djedkhonsuefankh, Menkheperra (sons of Pinudjem I), Smendes II, Pinudjem II, and lastly, Psusennes III (who was also King Psusennes II). Although generally assumed to be a literary narrative, the “Account of Wenamun” provides a snapshot of the power-​sharing political structure already in place in the Twenty-​first Dynasty, whereby the High Priests of Amun increasingly took on royal prerogatives on par with their increasingly powerful status. Early on, Herihor adopted the so-​called fivefold royal titulary, previously only reserved for kings. By Year 16 of Smendes’s reign, the High Priest of Amun, Pinudjem I, like his predecessor before him, also laid claim to kingship through the adoption of royal titulary, and his authority was widely acknowledged in the south.11 As discussed, at the very beginning of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, King Smendes was recognized as having authority over the entirety of the country, including Thebes. However, the situation quickly deteriorated, and throughout the remainder of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, the High Priests of Amun were undoubtedly the real rulers of the south. In addition to their religious functions, High Priests of Amun were also the generals in charge of the army, and with the twin powers of temple and military behind them, they conducted themselves like kings, taking on traditional royal prerogatives such as adopting the fivefold titulary, writing their names in cartouches, initiating construction projects, and monitoring and “renewing” the royal tombs in the Theban necropolis. In the first fifteen years of Smendes’s reign, the High Priest of Amun, Pinudjem I, undertook the conservation, restoration, and reburial of the royal mummies in the western necropolis. Graffiti left by the necropolis 11. Dodson 2004: 196.

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scribe Butehamun attests to the extensive activities in the necropolis, where the burials of Thutmose II (1492–​1479 bc) and Amenhotep II (1425–​1397 bc) were restored in Year 6, and in those of Amenhotep III (1388–​1350 bc), Rameses III (1181–​1150 bc), and Rameses II (1279–​1213 bc) in Years 12, 13 and 15, respectively.12 From Year 16 of Smendes’s reign onward, Pinudjem I behaved like the king in Thebes by undertaking temple restoration and building projects on the temple of Khonsu; on the sanctuary’s west wall, he had his cartouches inscribed, which include the additional Horus name “Strong Bull, Beloved of Amun” and the titles of “King of Upper and Lower Egypt.”13 Moreover, there remains in the First Court of Karnak the colossal statue of Rameses II, which was usurped by Pinudjem I, who inscribed it with his name, and added inscriptions and a scene of offering to Amun.14 The confirmation of royal power of the High Priest of Amun appeared to be accepted with little protest; indeed, it appears that the acquiescence (if not the blessing) by Smendes in the north was bolstered with the marriage of Henuttawy A, the daughter of Smendes and Tanetamun, to Pinudjem I. By this point, the reach of the High Priest of Amun extended as far north as el-​Hiba in Middle Egypt.15 The defining characteristic of Twenty-​first Dynasty governance was the north-​south divide, which seems to have been maintained at the site of el-​Hiba, which marked the northernmost territory of Theban control. Founded at the very beginning of the Third Intermediate Period, the town of el-​Hiba was an official residence of the High Priests of Amun. As such, the town was enclosed by high walls, matching the testimony of its ancient name of Teudjoi (Tayu-​djayt), meaning “Their Walls.” Moreover, el-​Hiba was almost certainly “the Camp” that was referenced in a number of letters between family members of the Theban Pontificate.16 Small-​ scale excavations by a team from the University of California, Berkeley,

12. Kitchen 1986: 257. 13. Kitchen 1986: 258. 14. Ritner 2009: 113–​114. 15. Kitchen 1986: 259. 16. Caminos 1958: 174–​176.

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at el-​Hiba have also confirmed that Third Intermediate Period material extends down to the bedrock in the northern sector of the site, which suggests that the early Twenty-​first Dynasty was el-​Hiba’s earliest period of occupation. Many bricks of the city walls were stamped with the cartouches of Pinudjem I and Menkheperra, attesting to the importance of el-​Hiba to the High Priests of Amun.17 Older studies often suggest actively hostile relations between the kings in the north and the High Priests of Amun in the south, with el-​Hiba marked as the “frontier” between the two regions. However, while there was bipartite control over Egypt, it is clear that the relationship between king and high priest was one of mutual dependency and cooperation. The blows dealt to the prestige of the office of king during the wehem mesut had repercussions that neither institution was strong enough to survive independently. Kingship required the legitimacy of the support of the god Amun, and at the same time, because of the weakness of royal power, the High Priests of Amun became increasingly convinced of their right to rule as intermediaries of the god. In most chronological reconstructions, Smendes is thought to have been succeeded by Amenemnisu (1043–​1039 bc). At this point, the royal authority of Pinudjem I, High Priest of Amun at Thebes, was firmly established. The reign of Amenemnisu is not well attested in the records, which may have been due to his short reign. Amenemnisu’s counterpart at Thebes was the High Priest Menkheperra, whose career is much better documented than that of the king. The so-​called Banishment Stele details the recall from exile of enemies who had opposed the installation of Menkheperra as High Priest of Amun in the last years of Smendes’s reign.18 This particular stele, while intended as a statement of Menkheperra’s secure hold over power, hints at the factionalism and

17. Redmount 2007: 309; 2013: 2373. The archaeological evidence from el-​Hiba suggests that it was an important provincial town. In addition to the large city walls, there is evidence of a large-​scale industrial complex in the area designated “North Hollow” by the UC Berkeley team. El-​Hiba is also the purported provenance of large amounts of papyri, including the “Account of Wenamun.” 18. For a recent translation, see Ritner 2009: 124–​129.

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fragility of power in Thebes, a situation that will become more evident in the subsequent dynasty. From the beginning of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, the power of the High Priests of Amun at Thebes was secured through marriage and kinship, a practice that produced a venue for the reunification and dissolution of the decades-​old practice of bipartite power between north and south. The marriage of Henuttawy A and Pinudjem I resulted in a son, Psusennes I (1039–​991 bc), who succeeded Amenemnisu as the third king of the Twenty-​first Dynasty. Pinudjem I’s other sons became the subsequent High Priests of Amun: Masaharta, Djedkhonsuefankh, and Menkheperra (in Year 25 of Smendes). Psusennes I’s ascension to the Tanite throne meant that, in reality, a single family ruled the entirety of Egypt. However, the bureaucratic bifurcation between north and south seems to have been maintained. The kings of the Twenty-​first Dynasty established Tanis in the northeastern delta as the new royal city, and it continued to serve in this role also during the Twenty-​second Dynasty. In his long forty-​eight-​year reign, Psusennes I was responsible for building the heart of the city, the temple to Amun, King of the Gods, in the northern part of the settlement. He also had a royal necropolis constructed, which was located inside the precinct of the Amun Temple (section 35.4.3). Constructed initially by Psusennes I, and enlarged by Siamun (975–​ 957 bc), Osorkon II (865–​830 bc), and Sheshonq III (late ninth/​early eighth century bc), the sacred precinct of Tanis was modeled after that of Karnak, deliberately making Tanis the “Thebes of the North.”19 Due to Tanis’s proximity to Piramesses, the city was in part built from monuments relocated from the former Ramesside capital. The main temple of Amun at Tanis was protected by polygonal enclosure walls that were already built by Psusennes I. Associated foundational deposits and blocks from the Amun temple show that much of the temple was built from material appropriated from nearby Piramesses. The temple was later enlarged by Siamun (Second Pylon) and Osorkon

19. Montet 1933: 171–​172; 1952: 28–​51; Loth 2014: 35–​36; Bard 2015: 294.

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II (First Pylon).20 A monumental gateway was built on the west wall by Sheshonq III. Subsequent kings of the Third Intermediate Period and later rulers, through the Thirtieth Dynasty (­chapter 61 in volume 5), refurbished or added to the main temple. Beyond his building projects at Tanis, Psusennes I initiated at Giza the construction of a small temple to Isis, Mistress of the Pyramids, near the third Queen’s pyramid in the shadow of Khufu’s pyramid from the Old Kingdom period.21 At Memphis, the inscriptions of the High Priests of Ptah are our main source of information for the works of the Tanite kings. The family of the High Priests of Ptah in Memphis is known from two monuments: a relief block that lists the sixty generations of the family Ankhefsekhmet (the so-​called Berlin Genealogy), dated to the reign of Sheshonq V (mid-​eighth century bc) of the late Twenty-​second Dynasty,22 and the so-​called Pasenhor Stele from the Serapeum in Saqqara, on which the genealogy of the Twenty-​first Dynasty family is preserved.23 It is likely that the situation at Memphis paralleled the hold of the High Priests of Amun over Thebes, given the dynastic succession of several generations of the same family to the office of High Priest of Ptah, into the Twenty-​ Second Dynasty.24 As with so many of our sources, the transition from the Ramesside Period to the Twenty-​first Dynasty remains unclear for the High Priests of Ptah at Memphis. The Berlin Genealogy names only one High Priest of Ptah, Ptahemakhet B, between the time of Rameses II (1279–​1213 bc) and Amenemnisu (1043–​1039 bc), which constituted a period of over 150 years. Ashakhet A, who was active during the reign of Amenemnisu,

20. Loth 2014: 36. 21. Kitchen 1986: 269. 22. Ägyptisches Museum Berlin, inventory no. ÄM 23673: Borchardt 1935: 96–​112, pls. 2–​2a. For a recent translation, see Ritner 2009: 21–​25. 23. Serapeum Stele 96 =​Stele Louvre IM 2846; see Malinine et al. 1968: 30–​31, pl. 10 (no. 31). 24. Aston 2007: 61.

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was the first High Priest of Ptah to be attested in the Third Intermediate Period.25 From the reign of Psusennes I through the end of the Twenty-​ first dynasty under Psusennes II (959–​943 bc), the office was held by the family through direct father-​to-​son succession. Unlike the High Priests of Amun at Thebes, the High Priests of Ptah in Memphis appear to have acknowledged and performed duties on behalf of, and for the credit of, the kings at Tanis. In line with the building policies of the early Third Intermediate Period, the public works carried out at Memphis were minor and of small scale. The Tanite kings’ strategy of using marriages to secure their power base was also employed by the High Priests of Memphis, as Shedsunefertem A was married to Tanetsepeh B, who was likely a daughter of Psusennes II. Shedsunefertem A’s career also marked the transition to the Twenty-​second Dynasty as he prepared a new embalming table for the Apis bull under Sheshonq I (943–​922 bc). The family continued to hold the office, until the reign of Osorkon II, when the position was given to Sheshonq D, a son of Osorkon II. This was unsurprising, as Osorkon II’s reign took place at a pivotal point in the Third Intermediate Period, when the work of previous generations in reunifying the government began to unravel, as documented in the Chronicle of Prince Osorkon.26 While it appears that the Tanite kings were acknowledged as kings of Egypt, textual and archaeological evidence suggests that a more complicated and evolving system, or systems, of power operated in Egypt. Hence, Psusennes I (1039–​991 bc) appears to have shared power harmoniously with his brother, the High Priest of Amun Menkheperra, whose activities spread widely across Egypt. At el-​Hiba, he continued to strengthen the city walls, stamping the bricks with the cartouches of his name and the name of his wife Istemkheb. In the south, at Higazeh near Qus, a brick stamped with the name of Istemkheb was found. Evidence of Menkheperra’s building activities was found at Medamud and

25. Kitchen 1986: 189. 26. Caminos 1958. For an accessible translation, see Ritner 2009: 348–​376.

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Gebelein.27 It appears that during Menkheperra’s high priesthood, his building activities focused on the construction of a series of fortresses.28 At Thebes, evidence of Menkheperra’s building activities also come from stamped bricks. Such bricks were found at the temples of Karnak and Luxor. In addition to an inspection of Theban sanctuaries conducted in Year 40 of Psusennes I, Menkheperra also constructed a wall in the north area of the Karnak temple in Year 48.29 He was succeeded by two sons, Smendes II and Pinudjem II, as High Priests of Amun. Throughout the first half of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, monuments in Upper Egypt were rarely associated with kings despite the nominal acknowledgment of their authority. Our major sources of information for this period are the dockets, mummy braces, and bandages found among the funerary equipment of kings and High Priests of Amun buried in so-​called cache tombs in western Thebes (TT 320 and Bab el-​Gasus). However, while the names of High Priests of Amun were frequently connected to specific year dates, the names of the kings were rarely ever mentioned in such contexts, and this suggests that the kings at this time had little involvement in the running of important day-​to-​day affairs in Thebes. The short reign of Amenemope (991–​981 bc), Psusennes I’s successor, marked the turning point when it became general practice for the names of kings to be connected to specific year dates on funerary material. On bandages, braces, and pendants, the status of Amenemope as king and Pinudjem II as High Priest of Amun was clearly defined. Amenemope appeared to be the first Tanite king whose authority was explicitly acknowledged in the operations of the Theban administration.30 This suggests that by the middle of the dynasty, there was a strong movement toward the re-​establishment of royal authority beyond lip service at Thebes. The reign of Amenemope may have marked an attempt to reassert the traditional status of the king as the Lord of

27. Dodson 2012: 64. 28. Kitchen 1986: 269–​270. 29. Dodson 2012: 64. 30. Dodson 2012: 40; Jansen-​Winkeln 2016: 82–​84.

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the Two Lands, King of Upper and Lower Egypt,31 and hence, political reunification in a concrete way. However, momentum failed to be maintained, as Amenenope passed away after a decade of rule. He was succeeded by a man of explicit Libyan background, Osorkon the Elder (981–​975 bc), who was the founding ancestor of the “Libyan” Twenty-​ second Dynasty. He reigned only briefly and left behind little evidence of his activities as king. Osorkon the Elder was succeeded by Siamun. Next to Psusennes I, Siamun (975–​957 bc) was the king of the Twenty-​first Dynasty who undertook the most building projects. At Tanis, he expanded the temple of Amun with the building of a pillared forecourt, built at the south temple of Khonsu, and added to a small shrine east of the tomb of Psusennes I.32 Under the reign of Siamun, the High Priest of Ptah, Pipi B may have overseen the construction of a small temple to Amun, Lord of Lapis Lazuli, at Memphis.33 Siamun seems to have paid special attention to Memphis, as traces of two buildings, a stele concerning land sales, and documentation of an estate of Siamun in the southern quarter are preserved from his reign.34 In the south, there is little trace of Siamun beyond a graffito at Abydos, an entry in the Karnak priestly annals, and some appearances of his name in dates at Thebes.35 In terms of foreign affairs, there is some indication of a renewal of Egyptian interest abroad. From Tanis, there is a single relief scene that depicts Siamun smiting prisoners armed with double axes who may be of Aegean and Anatolian origin. Together with the biblical reference to a pharaoh of Egypt who destroyed Gezer and formed an alliance with King Solomon,36 this finding resulted in Kitchen’s suggestion that Siamun conducted campaigns in southwestern Palestine.37 31. Jansen-​Winkeln 2016: 84. 32. Kitchen 1986: 278. 33. Kitchen 1986: 279. 34. Jeffreys 1985: 24–​25. 35. Kitchen 1986: 279. 36. 1 Kgs 9:16. 37. Kitchen 1986: 280.

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Siamun’s reign of about two decades witnessed the death of Pinudjem II and the installation of Psusennes III in the office of the High Priest of Amun in Year 10. After Siamun passed away, the end of the dynasty saw the return of the throne of Egypt to the family of Pinudjem I when the High Priest of Amun, Psusennes III, the grandson of Pinudjem I, succeeded to the Tanite throne as King Psusennes II (957–​943 bc),38 constituting the last fourteen years of the Twenty-​first Dynasty. Little remains of this king’s activities beyond some faience shabtis found in the tomb of Psusennes I at Tanis that were the source of some confusion in early scholarship. When Psusennes II passed away, kingship was transferred into the hands of Sheshonq I, marking the beginning of the Twenty-​ second Dynasty. The Twenty-​first Dynasty marked a transitional period between the wehem mesut era and subsequent developments of the Third Intermediate Period. The main characteristic of this first phase of Third Intermediate Period history is the continuation of the structure of fractured power between the king and the High Priest of Amun already seen in the reign of Rameses XI (1099–​1069 bc; c­ hapter 27 in volume 3). At the same time, while the administration of a bifurcated Egypt appears to have been a well-​established norm, there was consistent movement toward a return to traditional kingship under the mantle of a single king. Throughout the dynasty, the families of the High Priest of Amun in Thebes and the Tanite kings intermarried, and this likely began as a way of cementing alliances and formalizing the sharing of power, which then progressed until both rulers in the north and south were kin. The last king of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, Psusennes II, was also the High Priest of Amun, Psusennes III. Already, in the course of the Twenty-​first Dynasty—​ with the reign of Amenemope the probable turning point—​there was a

38. As with many personages of the same name, there is doubt regarding whether Psusennes (III), the High Priest of Amun, became King Psusennes (II). Note, e.g., the proposal of Dodson 2009: 107, who assumes the existence of three men named Psusennes: a king, Psusennes II; the High Priest of Amun Psusennes III, son of Pinudjem II, and Psusennes IV, the High Priest of Amun under King Psusennes II.

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movement toward reunification, a process that continued in the subsequent Twenty-​second Dynasty.

35.3.2.  The Twenty-​second, Twenty-​third, and Twenty-​fourth Dynasties: Libyan unity and anarchy Around 945 bc, kingship in Tanis transferred to a new family of Libyan background, initiating the second phase of the Third Intermediate Period. The transfer appears to have been smooth and facilitated by family ties. Sheshonq I (943–​922 bc), the first king of the Twenty-​second Dynasty, was a nephew of Osorkon the Elder (984–​978 bc), who was a king of the Twenty-​first Dynasty. Sheshonq I’s son and successor, Osorkon I (922–​887 bc; see also ­figure 47.11 in ­chapter 47), was married to Maatkara B, the daughter of Psusennes II. Takelot I (887–​873 bc), Osorkon and Maatkara’s son, became the third king of the dynasty.39 The most notable aspect of the Twenty-​second Dynasty was their unabashed emphasis on their Libyan ancestry. Rather than downplaying their non-​Egyptian background, the kings of the Twenty-​second Dynasty proudly bore the tribal title of “chief ” of various tribal groups, among them the Ma, Meshwesh, and Libu, and emphasized their lineages in long genealogical inscriptions. The prominence of people of Libyan background in the highest realms of government, too, was rooted in the New Kingdom, when an increase in Libyan incursions into Egypt resulted in frequent conflicts. In addition to military engagements, the New Kingdom Egyptian state settled a number of Libyan groups in the delta. In fact, when we use the term “Libyan,” we are actually using it as an umbrella term for groups of people who originated from the west of Egypt. Settled on the western margins of Egypt, these groups had extensive and sustained contact with Egypt since the beginning of Egyptian history.40 Throughout Egyptian history, Egyptians themselves used a number of different terms to reference these Westerners. The

39. Dodson 2004: 212–​213. 40. Leahy 1985: 53.

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oldest term was Tjehenu, followed in the Old Kingdom by the use of Tjemehu/​Tjehemu. By the Middle Kingdom, these two terms were used interchangeably.41 In the reign of Rameses II (1279–​1213 bc), the new term Libu (Rebu) appeared, but the older appellations continued to be used. Alongside the Libu, the Meshwesh appear to have been viewed as Egypt’s most significant enemies in the west, while other groups such as the Imukehek, Esbe, Shai, Hes, and Beken appear only once in the New Kingdom records.42 Perhaps as a way to alleviate the toll taken by the continued conflicts, New Kingdom kings allowed the settlement of Libyan groups in the western delta and the oases, with continued influx of western populations into Egypt throughout the remainder of the New Kingdom.43 As the governmental fragmentation accelerated throughout the late New Kingdom and coalesced into the north-​south divide in the Twenty-​first Dynasty, the Libyans in the delta became increasingly influential. Of course, the situation was not unidirectional, but rather more of a feedback loop: the fragmentation was influenced by the incursions and presence of the Libyans, who in turn made the western delta their home, and as they settled became increasingly participatory as the area transformed into Libyan-​dominated territory.44 Libyan participation in the governing of Egypt was also not a sudden phenomenon; already in the Twenty-​ first Dynasty, men of non-​Egyptian ancestry held positions of power. Herihor was likely of Libyan background, as some of his sons bore typical Libyan names, such as Masharta and Masaqaharta.45 The dominance of Libyans in the sociopolitical fabric of the delta resulted in the necessary intermarriages between the Twenty-​first Dynasty rulers (kings and 41. Huilin 2020: 493–​494. 42. Hubschmann 2010: 174; Huilin 2020: 494–​499. 43. Leahy 1985: 52–​53. 44. Jansen-​Winkeln 2017: 212–​213. Note that Payraudeau 2020: 49 suggests that the Egyptian state may have lost control of the western delta as early as the reign of Rameses III since from that period localities from the region ceased to be mentioned in the Egyptian records. 45. Dodson 2004: 200–​201; Huilin 2020: 501.

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high priests) and influential Libyan families, creating the conditions that facilitated the ascension of kings of Libyan background. While the presence of foreign rulers on the Egyptian throne is reminiscent of the Hyksos period in the Second Intermediate Period (­chapter 23 in volume 3), it is by no means a parallel scenario. By the tenth century bc, Libyans in Egypt were undoubtedly acculturated and proficient in Egyptian cultural practices. This is analogous to any present-​day immigrant contexts after several generations. Acculturation, however, did not mean assimilation; it appears that the rulers (kings and local leaders) were very cognizant of their ancestral culture and made efforts to preserve and emphasize their Libyan background in the limited inscriptional evidence left to us. Despite this, or perhaps because of this, the conundrum of in-​depth discussions of Libyans as an ethnic group with identifiable ethnic practices in Egypt lies in the dearth of evidence. The identification of Libyans is based almost exclusively on textual evidence in the forms of ethnonyms, individual non-​Egyptian names, and genealogies. Aside from the limited inscriptional evidence, which in the Third Intermediate Period typically derives from tomb contexts, Libyans are effectively “archaeologically invisible”46—​as tends to be the case for most of Egyptian history. This is likely a result of the perhaps nomadic nature of these western peoples and the always difficult task of identifying acculturated people based on the criterion of “difference.”47 Superficially, the kingship style of the Twenty-​second Dynasty appears to have continued the push toward a traditional unified government headed by a single, absolute monarch. Perhaps in an effort to maintain continuity and reinforce his legitimacy, Sheshonq I’s royal titles closely emulated those of Smendes, the first king of the Twenty-​ first Dynasty. His reign lasted more than two decades and invigorated Egyptian power and prestige abroad. The king renewed economic ties with Byblos and conducted at least two campaigns in the Levant. There is little doubt that Sheshonq I was the biblical Shishak, the pharaoh

46. Hubschmann 2010: 174–​187. 47. Cf. Bader 2021.

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said to be responsible for the sack of Jerusalem in Year 5 of King Rehoboam,48 and this event is also recorded on the Bubastite Portal at Karnak (figure 35.2).49 Sheshonq I’s building activities included the construction of a new forecourt at Karnak, a temple at el-​Hiba, the expansion of the temple of Amun at Tanis, and the reburial of the royal mummies in the TT 320 cache tomb in the second half of his reign. His internal activities were part of the ongoing movement toward the reunification of Egypt under one ruler that had already begun in the Twenty-​first Dynasty. However, Sheshonq I’s domestic policy that witnessed the installation of family members and people of Libyan background in important positions in the Theban bureaucracy, a practice followed by subsequent Twenty-​ second Dynasty rulers, demonstrates that the disjointed power structure continued. At Thebes, Sheshonq I appointed his second son, Iuput, as the High Priest of Amun. The positions of Second, Third, and Fourth Prophets of Amun were also filled with his appointees, who were either of Libyan background or relatives through marriage. The Fourth Prophet of Amun, Nesy, was the chief of Mahasun, and therefore of Libyan ancestry. Sheshonq’s daughter Tashepenbast was married to Djedthotefankh A, the Third Prophet of Amun. In the north, Herakleopolis was placed under the supervision of Sheshonq’s third son, Nimlot, one of whose titles included “Leader of the Entire Army.” At Memphis, the High Priest of Ptah, Shednefertem, was married to a princess Tanetsepeh B,50 and prepared an embalming table for the Apis bull for Sheshonq I.51 Sheshonq’s successors, Osorkon I and Takelot I, continued the policies of consolidating the power of the monarchy and expanding Egyptian influence abroad. Osorkon I began his long reign by demonstrating his

48. 1 Kgs 14:25–​26 and 2 Chr 12:3–​4; see also ­chapter 48 in this volume. 49. Epigraphic Survey 1954: vii–​viii. 50. Tanetsepeh has been identified as Sheshonq I’s sister or as the daughter of Psusennes II by Kitchen 1986: 291, and Aston 2007: 62, respectively. 51. Kitchen 1986: 288–​290.

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Figure 35.2.  Inscription of Sheshonq I, listing conquered cities in the Levant, engraved around a depiction of the god Amun-​Ra on the left section of the south façade of the so-​called Bubastite Portal at the Karnak temple of Amun. Photo by Olaf Tausch, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​ w/​index.php?curid=​9870​676); Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license (CC BY 3.0).

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Figure 35.3.  The silver sarcophagus of Sheshonq II from the royal necropolis at Tanis, as displayed in the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo. Photos by Aidan McRae Thomson, via Wikimedia Commons (A =​https://​ comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​89917​772 and B =​ https://​ comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​89918​497); Creative Commons Attribution-​Share Alike 2.0 Generic license (CC BY-​SA 2.0).

piety to the major gods of Egypt by providing lavish gifts of gold, silver, vessels, and furnishings to their temples.52 Bubastis, the hometown of the kings of the Twenty-​second Dynasty, was the focus of major construction activities with the erection of a small temple to Atum.53 Osorkon I also expanded the main temple of Bastet, the goddess of the city.54 El-​Hiba remained an important site, and Osorkon I continued the decoration of the temple. After the death of his brother, Iuput, Osorkon I installed his eldest son, Sheshonq, as the high priest, and toward the end of Osorkon I’s reign, made him his co-​regent (known as “Sheshonq II”). Unfortunately, he predeceased his father, and was interred in a spectacular, solid silver, falcon-​headed coffin (figure 35.3) in the antechamber of Psusennes I’s tomb (NRT I) in the royal necropolis at Tanis. The

52. Preserved on a pillar in the temple to Atum at Bubastis was a list of the donations made by Osorkon in the first four years of his reign; see Ritner 2009: 251–​256. 53. For the suggestion that Bubastis replaced Tanis as the royal residence and capital during the early Twenty-​second Dynasty, see Payraudeau 2009: 397–​406; 2020: 95–​96. 54. Habachi 1957: 59–​70.

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throne eventually passed to Osorkon’s second son Takelot I, of whom very little is known. The early kings of the dynasty appear to have behaved very much like traditional Egyptian pharaohs and seem to have ruled Egypt as a unified country. However, the Libyan style of kingship only superficially resembles traditional Egyptian kingship, and the power structure that was used to govern the country may have been underpinned by a culturally Libyan understanding of diffused governance. The Libyan kings placed immediate and extended family members in prominent positions of power in the key strategic centers of Thebes, Hermopolis, and Herakleopolis, the most important being the High Priest of Amun, the High Priest of Ptah, and the First Prophet of Herishef, respectively. It is important to note also that the positions of High Priest of Amun and First Prophet of Herishef included military governance, with control of the fortress of el-​Hiba in the case of the First Prophet of Herishef.55 Other sons with titles of “Great Chief ” were rulers of Lower Egyptian cities and towns. While this particular method of governance by the new dynasty was a sound strategy in the early stages of consolidation, the astute reader will undoubtedly have spotted the inevitable flaw inherent in such a policy. Over time, this practice of diffused rule likely contributed to the undermining of the authority of the kings, whose maintenance and preservation of their Libyan designation (and thus the social status and identity) of “Great Chief ” may have proved detrimental for them in the eyes of both Libyans and Egyptians. By maintaining and exhibiting their Libyan identities, their foreignness may have been highlighted for the Egyptians. But, in preserving their titles of “Great Chief,” the Libyan kings may also have been perceived as equals, or the “first among equals,” by other Libyan leaders on whom the kings relied heavily. Moreover, because royal authority was maintained through family loyalty and relied on the negotiated cooperation of a “confederation of politically equal descent groups,”56 this strategy of power was only effective in the short term and

55. Jansen-​Winkeln 2017: 222. 56. Broekman 2010: 86–​87.

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ultimately proved incompatible with traditional Egyptian kingship. Indeed, as the ninth century bc progressed, and subsequent generations were placed in positions of power per established tradition, the number of claimants to that power increased. In fact, in the third phase of the Third Intermediate Period history, collateral dynasties related to the Twenty-​second Dynasty became increasingly autonomous, expanding their own power and claiming territory throughout the entire country. Problems began in the mid-​ninth century bc, early in the reign of Osorkon II, an eventual successor of Takelot I. The years between Osorkon I and Osorkon II constitute one of the worst-​documented periods in the history of the Third Intermediate Period. Manetho lists three kings as the successors of Osorkon I, and while Takelot I was certainly one of these, modern scholars debate whether he was Osorkon I’s direct successor or instead the predecessor of Osorkon II.57 At Thebes, the High Priest of Amun, Harsiese, possibly a cousin of Osorkon II, reverted back to the practices of the High Priests of Amun of the early Twenty-​first Dynasty by claiming full pharaonic titles, styling himself as “king,” and passing the office onto his own son. This diverged from the practices of the first half of the Twenty-​second Dynasty, when the High Priest of Amun was a son of the reigning king, rather than a son of the previous priest who inherited his office through “dynastic” succession.58 Perhaps in an effort to secure power, and having been thwarted in Thebes, Osorkon II installed his son and heir, Sheshonq D, as the High Priest of Ptah at Memphis, displacing the family (of Ashakhet A) that had held the office for generations. In Year 23 of Osorkon II, Sheshonq D, along with the mayor of Memphis, witnessed the embalming of an Apis bull and the installation of the commemorative steles. Sheshonq D was succeeded by his son, Takelot B, who in turn was succeeded by his sons Harsiese and Padiese A. Padiese’s sons, Peftjauawybast and Harsiese H, held the office of High Priest of Ptah. Osorkon II also established another son, Nimlot, as the First Priest of Herishef at Herakleopolis, and

57. Payraudeau 2020: 112. 58. Kitchen 1986: 314.

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later as High Priest of Amun at Thebes. Osorkon’s practice of using his sons to secure local power allowed him to achieve a rule of some twenty-​ three years. However, the damage had been done. At Thebes, Harsiese’s declaration of royal status and dynastic behavior may have revitalized the sentiment for the old power structures practiced at the beginning of the Twenty-​first Dynasty. With the passing of Osorkon II, the political history of this period becomes muddled in both historical reality and scholarship. The second half of the Twenty-​second Dynasty and descent into political chaos mark the third phase of the Third Intermediate Period. The conventional chronology advanced by Kenneth Kitchen assumes the sequence Osorkon II—​Takelot II—​Sheshonq III. However, this order has been rejected by some scholars on the grounds that Takelot II is only attested in Upper Egypt and that on one of the major monuments of the era, the so-​called Chronicle of Prince Osorkon, Years 22–​29 of Sheshonq III followed Years 11–​24 of Takelot II.59 David Aston thus suggested that Takelot II was king in Thebes, ruling alongside Sheshonq III as king in Tanis.60 At Thebes, the most important record of this period is the so-​called Chronicle of Prince Osorkon, the son of Takelot II. The monumental inscription, carved on the Bubastite Portal at the temple of Amun at Karnak, preserves the trials and tribulations of Prince Osorkon’s ascent to power. The earliest date in the Chronicle is Year 11 of his father, Takelot II, and details Osorkon’s return to Thebes as High Priest of Amun from el-​Hiba after the first of many expulsions from Thebes. In Year 15, an unnamed usurper led a revolt in Thebes that resulted in Osorkon’s expulsion and a civil war that continued until Year 24 of Takelot II. With the death of Takelot II, the throne may have passed to Sheshonq III, who

59. Jansen-​Winkeln 2006: 242. 60. Aston 1989: 139–​153. Scholarly opinion is divided over whether Osorkon II was succeeded directly by Takelot II, or if Takelot II was in fact the founder of the Twenty-​third Dynasty, whose power base was centered at Thebes. One should stress, however, that Takelot II was buried at Tanis, which would seem to be difficult to reconcile with his identification as founder of the Twenty-​third Dynasty.

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was perhaps Osorkon’s younger brother.61 Subsequently, Osorkon was driven from Thebes by his cousin Harsiese (B), who claimed the title of high priest and king in Thebes (Harsiese B was evidently buried in a falcon-​headed sarcophagus at Medinet Habu). Between Years 22 and 28 of Sheshonq III, it appears that control over Thebes and the claim to the position of High Priest of Amun vacillated between Harsiese and Osorkon. That Sheshonq III failed to intervene speaks to the fact that he himself was probably contending with rivals. By Year 8 of Sheshonq III’s reign, a king Pedubast was recognized at Thebes. Thus, from the end of the reign of Osorkon II, we see the fracturing of the country into multiple lines with claims to power, with the possible scenario that in Upper Egypt, Takelot II’s line ruled in parallel with Sheshonq III’s successors. Reconstructing the beginning of this third phase of political development in the Third Intermediate Period is challenging and complex, and fraught with scholarly disagreement and little consensus. Currently, there are a number of very different suggestions.62 Kenneth Kitchen’s scenario is that Takelot II succeeded Osorkon II as the last king of the first half of Twenty-​second Dynasty, with the accession of Sheshonq III marking the beginning of the second half of the Twenty-​ second Dynasty. From the reign of Sheshonq III onward, rivalries with contemporary dynasties began to increase, including the Twenty-​third Dynasty in the north, who possibly ruled from Leontopolis (modern Tell Muqdam). The kings of the northern Twenty-​third Dynasty would then be Pedubast I, Iuput I, Sheshonq VI, Osorkon III, Takelot III, Rudamun, possibly followed by Sheshonq VII, and the dynasty ended with Iuput II, who is mentioned in the inscription of Piankhy’s Victory Stele. The Twenty-​second Dynasty continued in parallel, with the kings Sheshonq IV, Pimay, Sheshonq V, and finally Osorkon IV.63 However, according to David Aston’s influential proposal, Takelot II was a Theban king who founded the Twenty-​third Dynasty, which

61. Although this has not been proven, only hypothesized; see Kitchen 1986: 333. 62. For details, see Aston 2020: 684–​719, especially Table 32.2. 63. Kitchen 2009: 202.

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was therefore located in Upper Egypt rather than in Lower Egypt, and who ruled in parallel with Sheshonq III of the Twenty-​second Dynasty. Aston’s proposal has gained support from Aidan Dodson and Karl Jansen-​Winkeln, although there are some minor disagreements over details between these scholars.64 In his most recent work, Aston has re-​categorized Takelot II as a king of the Herakleopolitan line of the Twenty-​second Dynasty (therefore Dynasty 22A); his son Osorkon recorded conflicts with other claimants to the Egyptian throne, whom Aston designated as Dynasty 22B, consisting of Pedubast I, Iuput I, Sheshonq VI, and Iny.65 Most recently, Frédéric Payraudeau suggested the following scenario:66 The Twenty-​second Dynasty continued with Sheshonq III as the king in the north, and he was succeeded in turn by his sons Sheshonq IV and Pimay I, and his grandson Sheshonq V. Ruling concurrently with Sheshonq III, Takelot II was in power in the south, and was succeeded in turn by Iuput I, Osorkon III (i.e., Prince Osorkon), Takelot III, Rudamun and finally Iny. This was the Theban branch of the Twenty-​second Dynasty. At the end of the ninth century bc and the beginning of the eighth, during the time of Takelot II and Iuput I, there was a rival Theban line consisting of Pedubast I and his successor Sheshonq VI. Unlike Aston and Kitchen, Payraudeau localized the Twenty-​ third Dynasty at Tanis,67 in direct succession of the Twenty-​second Dynasty, and assigned three kings to it: Pedubast II, Osorkon IV, and Pimay II. At the end of the eighth century bc, there were also local rulers at Hermopolis, Herakleopolis and Leontopolis, and the fragmentation of Egypt under many regional rulers led Payraudeau to

64. Aston 1989; 2009b; Jansen-​Winkeln 2006; Dodson 2012; and note the rebuttal of Kitchen 2009: 161–​201. 65. Aston 2020: 702. 66. Payraudeau 2020: 129–​165. His chronological reconstruction and regnal dates are used in this chapter and volume. 67. Payraudeau 2020: 36, Table 5.

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characterize the late ninth century and the eighth century bc as a time of “polyarchy.”68 The political fragmentation and competition for power continued throughout the eighth century bc. The prominence of the High Priests of Ptah in the latter half of the Twenty-​second Dynasty, as documented in the Serapeum steles, coincides with the decline of the office of the High Priest of Amun in Thebes and the eventual ascendancy of the God’s Wives of Amun. Under Sheshonq III, the High Priest of Ptah, Peftjauawybast, oversaw the embalming of an Apis bull and the inauguration of the new one in Year 28. By the time the new Apis bull died in Year 2 of Pimay, his brother Harsiese H was the High Priest of Ptah. Harsiese H was succeeded by his son Ankhefensekhmet B. However, by the reign of Sheshonq V (mid-​eighth century bc), when the next Apis bull was embalmed at Saqqara, the High Priests of Ptah were no longer mentioned in the Serapeum steles.69 In Thebes, Prince Osorkon ascended to the throne as King Osorkon III at some point in the early eighth century bc. Likely in an effort to secure Thebes, Osorkon III installed his daughter, Shepenwepet I, as the God’s Wife of Amun,70 and from this point on, the institution of the God’s Wife of Amun became an important tool of legitimation for new kings until the end of the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty in the Late Period. The other Libyan-​dominated cities of Leontopolis and Hermopolis also emerged with claimants to power. Conventionally, these different families have been grouped uniformly under “the Twenty-​third Dynasty” also, with scholarly opinions differing on the origin city (or cities) of the Twenty-​third Dynasty.71 By the mid-​eighth century bc, numerous other kinglets, local rulers, and “Great Chiefs” of Libyan descent engaged in

68. Payraudeau 2020: 129. 69. Kitchen 1986: 192–​194. 70. Ayad 2009a: 16 suggests that Shepenwepet was installed by her brother, and son of Osorkon III, Takelot III. 71. Whereas Kitchen 2009: 188 suggested Leontopolis as the dynastic center, and Aston 1989 suggested Thebes, Payraudeau 2020: 151 follows Manetho’s original premise in assuming a Tanite-​Bubastite Twenty-​third Dynasty.

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territorial rivalry. In the Nile delta, at the ancient town of Sais, a native Egyptian family, headed by Tefnakht, began territorial expansion into the “Kingdom of the West.” The Saite Twenty-​fourth Dynasty was the direct ancestor to the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty, which eventually returned Egyptian rule to the hands of Egyptians (­chapter 49 in volume 5). Such was the political fragmentation and weakness of Egypt that by the mid-​ eighth century bc, Kushite Nubians began their conquest of Egypt (­chapter 36 in this volume).

35.3.3. The Twenty-​fifth Dynasty: Kushites in Egypt Nubia had always been Egypt’s closest neighbor and rival in Africa. From the beginning of Egyptian statehood, relations between Egypt and Nubia centered on trade, territorial control, and conquest. Autobiographies of Old Kingdom officials such as Harkhuf boasted of leading extensive trade missions to southern lands. The Twelfth Dynasty kings constructed a network of forts between the First and Second Cataracts to monitor and control movements of people in and out of Nubia. In the Second Intermediate Period, the Kingdom of Kerma allied with the Hyksos to hold Theban Egyptians within a powerful political and military vice (­chapters 23–​25 in volume 3). The aggressive military campaigns and colonial policies conducted by the Thutmosids in the Eighteenth Dynasty (­chapter 26 in volume 3) were a response to the evident Nubian threat. In the aftermath of the Sea Peoples and waning Egyptian power (­chapter 28 in volume 3), there is scant information in the Egyptological records about developments in the south until a new powerful Nubian state emerged at the Fourth Cataract that began a military campaign to annex Egypt in the eighth century bc (­chapter 36 in this volume). After millennia of close contact, the Kushite state of the first millennium bc had assimilated and appropriated much Egyptian culture. The Egyptianizing policy of the New Kingdom produced generations of Nubian elites who adopted Egyptian names and were buried in Egyptian-​ style tombs.72 With the retreat of Egyptians north at the end of the New 72. Török 1997: 96–​97.

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Kingdom, it is apparent that many Egyptianizing elements remained in Nubian society, which were selectively incorporated and shaped the hybridized political ideology of the emerging Kushite state. Religion was an especially powerful force. According to the Nubian myth of the state, Amun-​Ra, that most important national deity of the Egyptians, was in fact of Nubian origin. Amun of Napata bestowed kingship upon the founding ancestor of the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty, Alara. The primacy of Amun of Napata then also provided the mythological and intellectual justifications for Kushite claims to the rule of Egypt.73 In fact, it became the duty of the Kushite rulers to deliver Egyptians from the chaos that was Egypt in the eighth century bc. In virtually all aspects of kingship and activity, the Kushite kings of the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty paid homage to Egyptian traditions, resulting in the oft-​repeated modern characterization that the Kushites were more Egyptian than the Egyptians. The Kushite kings reverted back to the traditional idea of an Egyptian king, with somewhat more success than the previous rulers, albeit with innovations based on their own cultural traditions. Adhering to established Egyptian practice, the Kushite kings assumed the mantle of traditional kingship in its patrilineal form of succession of the king as the son of Amun,74 although possibly augmented by collateral succession in which nephews and brothers succeeded the king.75 Beginning in the mid-​eighth century bc with Kashta, king of Kush (755–​743 bc), Egypt was slowly brought under the control of the Nubian rulers. Although Kashta established authority in Upper Egypt, he did not appear to have had much interest in the north and he resided in Nubia. However, as part of the perhaps pro forma legitimation of Kushite power, Kashta’s daughter, Amenirdis I, was installed as the heir to the God’s Wife of Amun, Shepenwepet I, the daughter of Osorkon III. This action marked the formal transition of power from the Libyan

73. Török 1997: 263–​264. 74. Kahn 2005: 143–​163. 75. Török 1997: 259.

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Twenty-​second Dynasty to the Kushite Twenty-​fifth Dynasty, and the beginning of the fourth and last phase of the Third Intermediate Period. The Twenty-​fifth Dynasty’s hold over Egypt was implemented gradually. The early Kushite kings appear to have been content with nominal control over the north, but already at the beginning of the reign of Kashta’s successor Piankhy (743–​713 bc), his power in Egypt appears to have been considerable; in a stele from Gebel Barkal (no. 26), Piankhy proclaims that he had the ability to install or remove Libyan chiefs.76 However, the political situation in the north remained fractious. By Year 20, Piankhy had to depart Nubia to halt the expansion of Tefnakht of Sais, who had gained control over Lower Egypt, and had advanced south to Hermopolis, having laid siege to Herakleopolis. The Victory Stele of Piankhy commemorated his eventual victory over the Saite forces and the pacification of the whole of Egypt.77 The lunate of the stele depicts prostrating princes and chiefs of the Nile delta surrendering to Piankhy. It may also have been during this campaign that Piankhy installed his daughter, Shepenwepet II, as the successor to Amenirdis I. While Piankhy’s victory was an acknowledgment of Nubian authority over Egypt, it also indicated that the control of the earliest Kushite kings over Egypt was only tenuously maintained with the cooperation of the Egyptian and Egyptian-​Libyan elites, and that a king could not reside in Nubia and be considered the king of Egypt. Tefnakht of Sais remained powerful, and his descendants would eventually become the “Saite” Twenty-​sixth Dynasty (­chapter 49 in volume 5). Piankhy’s successors became true kings of Egypt as the rulers of the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty, residing in Egypt and returning Memphis to its ancient status as capital and royal residence. The order of Piankhy’s immediate successors is a topic of debate. Conventionally, Piankhy was thought to have been succeeded by Shabaqo (a brother of the God’s Wife of Amun Amenirdis I, so presumably a son of Kashta), who was succeeded by Shabataqo (or Shabitqo,

76. Ritner 2009: 143. 77. Grimal 1981; Ritner 2009: 465–​492.

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about whom very little is known, including his much-​debated parentage), followed by Taharqo (whose sister was the God’s Wife of Amun Shepenwepet II, and thus almost certainly a son of Piankhy). The last Twenty-​fifth Dynasty ruler was Tanutamani, who came to power in 664 bc. However, a number of scholars have recently called into question the sequence of Shabaqo and Shabataqo, arguing instead that the order of kings should be reversed, with Shabataqo (713–​705 bc) ruling before Shabaqo (705–​690 bc). Michael Bányai first proposed the reversal of the order of the kings and since then a number of scholars have supported this thesis with some amendments to the argument.78 These scholars point to Assyrian sources and the monumental evidence in Egypt and at el-​Kurru, in addition to the Nile-​level records at Karnak, as convincing evidence for the new proposal. What is quite clear is that with the residency of Kushite kings in Egypt, the political fragmentation began to dissipate and there was a revival of a number of ancient Egyptian customs and return to traditional practices. Shabaqo engaged in diplomatic relations with the Levant and Assyria, as well as directed major building projects in Egypt. Special importance seems to have been ascribed to the Memphite region, where the Shabaqo Stone, which preserved the creation myth of Ptah the creator, was found. Taharqo (690–​664 bc), too, was an active king who undertook a number of building projects throughout Nubia and Egypt, notably at Karnak with the addition of a monumental kiosk in the first court of the temple of Amun,79 and the Edifice of Taharqo.80 He continued the Egyptian expansion abroad, which had already resulted in a clash at Eltekeh in the southern Levant in 701 bc with the Assyrian Empire during the reign of Sennacherib (704–​681 bc). In 674 bc, the first attempted invasion of Egypt by his son and successor Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc)

78. Bányai 2013; 2015, followed by Broekman 2015; 2017; Jansen-​Winkeln 2017; Jurman 2017; Aston 2020. See also ­chapter 36 in this volume. 79. Lauffray 1970; 1975. 80. Parker et al. 1979; Cooney 2000.

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was repelled, but only three years later, in 671 bc, this Assyrian king was able to lead his troops into Egypt via the desert route—​the first invasion of Egypt from the east to succeed.81 Taharqo fled south after losing Memphis to the Assyrian forces, and Esarhaddon widely publicized his capture of members of the Kushite royal family, for example in the inscription and depiction engraved on the so-​called Zincirlı Stele (figure 35.4),82 erected at the provincial capital city of Sam’al (modern Zincirlı). When the Assyrian forces withdrew, Esarhaddon had acquired the loyalty of Nekau of Sais, the father of the first Twenty-​sixth Dynasty ruler, Psamtek I. However, Taharqo quickly regained control of Egypt after Esarhaddon’s departure, prompting the return of the Assyrian army in 669 bc when Esarhaddon died en route to Egypt. Subsequently, his son and successor Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc) advanced into Egypt in 667 bc with little difficulty. Taharqo was likely killed during the renewed conflict, and was buried in a pyramid-​style tomb at Nuri in Upper Nubia. His heir on the Kushite throne, Tanutamani (664–​656 bc), briefly reasserted authority in Egypt, but was driven out again by the Assyrian forces, who also sacked Thebes, although archaeology has revealed little evidence of this event. Tanutamani retreated to Nubia, never to return to Egypt; his burial site was a pyramid-​style tomb at el-​Kurru. The Assyrian heartland and a huge range of disciplines, from the culinary arts and veterinary practice to divination and imperial art, all benefited enormously from the influx of numerous deportees from Egypt, some of whom are attested at the royal court as part of Esarhaddon’s circle of scholarly advisors immediately after the conquest of 671 bc.83 But despite having invested so much in gaining supremacy over Egypt, the Assyrian Empire controlled the lands on the Nile for little more than a decade.84 Problems elsewhere (cf. c­ hapter 38 in this

81. Radner 2008. 82. For an edition, see Leichty 2011: 185–​186. 83. Radner 2018: 103–​104 (with full references). On Egyptians in Assyria, see also ­chapter 40 in this volume. 84. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 17.

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Figure 35.4.  The so-​called Zincirlı Stele of Esarhaddon of Assyria, whose front depicts the Assyrian king with two prominent captives: the king of Sidon (standing) and Taharqo’s designated successor, the Kushite crown prince Ušanahuru (kneeling). Vorderasiatisches Museum Berlin, museum number VA 2708. Photo by Richard Mortel, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​ comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​91409​613); Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license (CC BY 2.0).

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volume) meant that Ashurbanipal was unable to deal with these remote territories when Nekau’s son Psamtek seized the opportunity provided by Assyria’s lack of attention and liberated Egypt from Assyrian rule. In 664 bc, Psamtek I (664–​610 bc) was installed as king of Egypt, and client ruler to the Assyrian Empire. Thus ended a century of Twenty-​fifth Dynasty Kushite rule of Egypt. Psamtek I’s ascension to the throne of Egypt and the acknowledgment of his legitimacy by the people open the next chapter of Egyptian history: the Saite Period (­chapter 49 in volume 5). This complicated summary of the Third Intermediate Period highlights the difficulties of reconstructing the political history of Egypt in the first half of the first millennium bc. While Egyptology still falls back on the conventions of discussing the political history of this period in terms of “Dynasties,” the complexities of the situation suggest that the traditional model of dynastic organization needs to be used alongside the framework of cultural developments in order to understand the political developments in Third Intermediate Period history.

35.4.  Sociocultural developments The ongoing debates surrounding the political history and the dates and sequence of kings constitute only part of our understanding of Egyptian cultural developments in the first half of the first millennium bc. The complexities and richness of Egyptian cultural production during the Third Intermediate Period far surpass a discussion of kings and their monuments. The contribution of previously marginal groups (both in the historical record and in modern scholarship) created a society characterized by a spirit of innovation, tempered by a desire to adhere to tradition. This spirit of innovation within tradition changed language and art and can be observed in concepts of kingship and rule (section 35.3), in particular in the increased prominence of women in politics and religion, as well as in settlement patterns, domestic architecture, and burial practices.

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35.4.1.  Language and script Language and script underwent important changes during the Third Intermediate Period. Upper Egypt saw the appearance of Abnormal Hieratic, which developed as a more cursive form of the Ramesside administrative Hieratic script.85 The earliest datable examples of Abnormal Hieratic are found in administrative documents from the Twenty-​first and Twenty-​second Dynasties, and its use in Upper Egypt continued into the Twenty-​fifth and Twenty-​sixth Dynasties, at which time it was used in private legal deeds.86 By the mid-​seventh century bc, the Demotic script made its first appearance in Lower Egypt, and became the official script of administration and vernacular throughout the whole of Egypt by the end of the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty.87 The divergent writing systems may have been the result of the long-​enduring administrative divide between the Egyptian south and the Libyan-​dominated north.88 Abnormal Hieratic developed organically from New Kingdom Hieratic, but the Demotic script may have been a product of a deliberate standardization.89 Language use and literary production became more eclectic and innovative during the latter part of the Third Intermediate Period.90 There was also a desire to honor the past, seen for example in monumental inscriptions that were composed in Middle Egyptian, but using Late Egyptian phraseology.91 The biographical texts of this period also recalled the phraseology of earlier periods, such as the biographies of the provincial governors of the First Intermediate Period (­chapter 12 in volume 2). While the narratives were lengthier and included elements from 85. Donker van Heel 2020: 594. 86. Vleeming 1981: 35. 87. Depauw 1997: 22–​23. 88. Leahy 1985: 59–​60; Jansen-​Winkeln 2017: 211–​213. 89. Donker van Heel 2020, 595. 90. Der Manuelian 1994. 91. Lichtheim 1980: 4.

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other cultures,92 they also included strong references to the past, as seen in the tales of Prince Setne.93 Instructional literature from earlier periods usually presented moral maxims through vignettes of daily life, built up through sequences of interconnecting sentences, but the Demotic instructions differed from earlier models in their use of concise sentences written in plain prose.94

35.4.2. Settlement patterns The economic weakness and contraction of international trade relations, alongside the continued encroachment of outside populations, resulted in some distinct changes in settlement patterns in the Third Intermediate Period. According to James Bennett, Upper Egyptian urban developments continued along New Kingdom patterns, albeit with a contraction of sites occupied.95 Of course, this is keeping in mind that the majority of the settlement data stem from the Theban region. In settlements, the notable development, in parallel with mortuary practices, was the repurposing of the New Kingdom royal mortuary temples to meet the quotidian needs of the population. At Thebes, Medinet Habu was converted from a sacred precinct to a fortress settlement, likely as a response to the encroachment of foreigners and security concerns already in the late New Kingdom. By the end of the wehem mesut era, Medinet Habu, housing the mortuary temple of Rameses III (1181–​1150 bc), known as the Great Temple, and the Small Temple to the Ogdoad built by Hatshepsut (1479–​1458 bc) of the Eighteenth Dynasty, was repurposed as a fortress to house the local population. The area between the mortuary temple of Rameses III and the enclosure wall was filled with Twenty-​first Dynasty structures.96

92. Tait 1992: 304. 93. Lichtheim 1980: 125–​151. 94. Lichtheim 1980: 9; Agut-​Labordère 2011. 95. Bennett 2019. 96. Hölscher 1954: 2.

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In the west, the area between the outer wall and the Great Temple witnessed the growth of a significant settlement complete with housing and “farms with spacious courts, stables, and storehouses.”97 In the east, smaller houses were crowded together. The best-​preserved dwelling at Medinet Habu was the abode of the Necropolis Scribe Butehamun,98 who, as known from graffiti in the Valley of the Kings, was responsible for the restoration and reburial of royal mummies and the closing of the necropolis workers’ settlement at Deir el-​Medina. The main room of his house preserved four columns that bore inscriptions and scenes in which Amun as well as King Amenhotep I (1525–​1504 bc) and Queen Ahmose Nefertari of the Eighteenth Dynasty were worshipped. The settlement at Medinet Habu underwent several phases of development. Sometime in the Twenty-​first Dynasty, there was considerable destruction, resulting in the construction of a new settlement inside the enclosure wall. The Twenty-​second to Twenty-​fourth Dynasty buildings consisted of thin-​walled, modestly sized houses built with little planning, resulting in narrow streets that were at most 1.5 m wide. While modest, some houses continued the earlier tradition of including door frames made of inscribed architectural stone elements from earlier buildings. Throughout the Third Intermediate Period, new houses were constructed and reconstructed upon the remains of earlier buildings as they fell into disrepair.99 The general plans of the houses resemble the tripartite houses of the same period at Memphis, with a columned main room that provided access to two back rooms. Some houses also had stairways to a second story or rooftop. Houses in the settlement ranged from “wretched” houses of two rooms to a family compound of houses accessed by “impressive” gateways leading to courtyards that gave access to large antechambers and columned main rooms.100 Domestic

97. Hölscher 1954: 3–​4. 98. Hölscher 1954: 5. Inscriptions in the house name Butehamun as “the royal scribe and overseer of the royal treasury.” 99. Hölscher 1954: 6–​8. 100. Hölscher 1954: 8.

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objects found in dwellings included clay ovens (rounded and angular in shape), limestone stools and headrests, faience vases, and, of course, pottery. Votive figurines and votive beds may indicate private religious practices.101 During the eighth century bc, the settlement at Medinet Habu underwent further change and development with the construction of the mortuary complexes of the God’s Wives of Amun and the subsequent establishment of a cemetery apparently reserved for the female support personnel of the office (section 35.4.6) in the eastern area, accessed via the Eastern High Gate. The cemetery area was separated from the settlement by an east-​west wall, and a new entrance constructed in the Eastern enclosure wall to the south of the High Gate. Uvo Hölscher remarked that the houses of this period were more “citified,” in the form of townhouses (connected houses) of more than one story, and may have been markers of a new economic revival of Thebes.102 In the outer temple area, situated to the south and southwest of the Great Temple, were larger detached houses, complete with courts that give access to two main rooms that were surrounded by side rooms.103 In House 1, the preservation of two flights of stairs attest to the house having at least three stories. The forecourt of House 1 had three cellars that Hölscher suggested originally served as grain storage and then became the household dump.104 Other houses in this area had much the same plan, although sizes varied. By the time of the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty, these houses had apparently fallen into ruin, and pottery kilns were built upon the debris. The repurposing and occupation of temples was also seen at other sites in Egypt. At Matmar, domestic architecture of mudbrick houses and abundant granaries were found within the precinct of the Seth temple of Rameses II.105 Similar examples of domestic architecture

101. Hölscher 1954: 10–​13. 102. Hölscher 1954: 14. 103. Hölscher 1954: 15, fig. 20. 104. Hölscher 1954: 16. 105. Brunton 1948: 67, pl. XLV.

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built within temples are found at Kom Firin and Tell el-​Balamun in the delta.106 In Memphis, the southwest corner of the Ptah temple includes poorly preserved Third Intermediate Period occupational levels.107 In the north, for most of the Third Intermediate Period, the ancient capital of Memphis was overshadowed by the establishment of the new royal city, Tanis. Beyond the names of the High Priests of Ptah and associated burials of the Apis bulls in the Serapeum at nearby Saqqara, it is not clear if Memphis was governed by Libyan chiefs under the purview of the kings at Tanis.108 Limited excavations of the city, focused on the southwestern corner of the Ptah temple, show sparse building activities. Like in other regions of the country, religious building activity consisted of the construction of small outdoor chapels in major temple precincts. A small number of blocks inscribed with the name of Amenemope demonstrates that the Tanite kings had some activities at Memphis. In the Twenty-​second Dynasty, Sheshonq III likely built a small temple, and during the reign of Osorkon II, sacred activity involved the installation of a number of statues and steles in the main Ptah temple.109 The southwest corner of the Ptah temple enclosure was also the site of a number of houses for the priests of the temple. Stone doorways were found inscribed with the names of the priests of Ptah. In other areas of Memphis, such as Kom Qala, the remains of Twenty-​first Dynasty (or later) houses were found overlying the palace of Merenptah.110 The priests’ houses were constructed along a tripartite plan, comprising a small front room that gave access to two smaller back rooms. Some houses were also fronted by small courtyards. Larger houses were found in the RAB area, sector D, overlaying the temple courtyard. These houses had up to eight rooms on the ground floor and staircases indicating the

106. Bennett 2019: 86–​100. 107. Aston 2007: 69–​71. 108. Aston 2007: 61. 109. Aston 2007: 67. 110. Aston 2007: 68, who also thinks that Petrie’s dating of the houses to the Twenty-​first Dynasty is too early.

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presence of a second story or rooftop use. Similarly planned structures have been found at Elephantine and Hermopolis.111 The limited domestic evidence from excavations suggests that in the Third Intermediate Period, temples remained the main economic force at Memphis and elsewhere. Donation steles of the Twenty-​first and Twenty-​second Dynasties detail the receipt of land by private individuals linked to temples who would receive a portion of the temple’s harvest in exchange for farming the plot.112 At Memphis, next to the temples, would have been the dockyards that supported trade and shipbuilding. Piankhy’s Victory Stele indicates the operation of a port during the eighth century bc. Remains of kilns indicate some industrial-​level pottery and/​ or faience production as demonstrated by common finds of faience amulets, scarabs and scaraboids, rings, pendants, and beads. In addition to pottery and faience, normal household items of flint tools, such as knives and sickle blades, and bone needles and awls were found. As with other locations in the Third Intermediate Period, metal objects were rare, and often showed up as potential heirlooms in burial contexts.113 The site of Tanis was the focus of the building activities of kings of the Twenty-​first and Twenty-​second Dynasties. In the vicinity of the old capital of Piramesses, much of Tanis was built by reusing monuments from Piramesses. As mentioned earlier, Tanis appears to have been deliberately planned to be the “Thebes of the North,” complete with the main Temple of Amun. Much of the archaeology of the site has focused on the royal necropolis (section 35.4.3). From the limited evidence, a few things may be concluded about the general development of Third Intermediate Period settlements. In his study, James Bennett found forty-​two sites that demonstrated military function or character, although 93% are exclusively from textual records and are concentrated in the 10th Upper Egyptian nome and

111. Aston 2007: 70–​71. 112. Meeks 1979: 605–​687. 113. Aston 2007: 75–​77.

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the Herakleopolitan/​Fayum region.114 In the Twenty-​first Dynasty, the High Priest of Amun Menkheperra was responsible for the construction of a series of forts spanning from Gebelein in the south to el-​Hiba in the north. The northern fortresses were added to and expanded by Osorkon I in the Twenty-​second Dynasty, and appeared to continue in importance throughout the remainder of the period; as part of Tefnakht’s expansion, he entrusted two fortresses in Middle Egypt (one of them being el-​Hiba) to two of his sons, and el-​Hiba is also mentioned in the Victory Stele of Piankhy.115 The large number of fortifications in the Herakleopolitan region reflected “the military lineage of the Libyan Pharaohs and their desire to both secure themselves within the Herakleopolitan region and to ensure their influence over the delta capitals.”116 As the Third Intermediate Period progressed, the focus seemed to shift to the Nile delta as areas of increased urban population. In terms of actual archaeological data, only eighty-​three sites are known, 30% of which are attested solely from textual records. Where there is sufficient settlement archaeology, the sites tend to be concentrated in the eastern delta.117 From the examination of the land donation steles, it is clear that different regions of the delta were occupied by different Libyan groups. The distribution of names and tribal affiliation from donation steles suggest that the central delta and eastern delta were settled by the Meshwesh, the southern delta by the Mashasun, and the western delta by the Libu.118 As population increased, it also appeared that there was a resettlement of earlier sites and expansion into previously abandoned habitation and mortuary zones. In terms of quotidian material culture, there was general homogeneity across Egypt. Pottery, as the defining domestic material of ancient times, provides us with a picture of the social economy of life in the

114. Bennett 2019: 57–​58. 115. Bennett 2019: 221. 116. Bennett 2019: 74–​75. 117. Bennett 2019: 34. 118. Bennett 2019: 190–​191.

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Third Intermediate Period. In comparison to the New Kingdom, Third Intermediate Period pottery was limited in forms and styles. Domestic pottery included: globular jars with rounded or pointed bases, probably used for cooking; a class of commonly found domestic pottery called “fire dogs” that were used to support cooking pots in the fire;119 large storage jars; jars with tall necks and two handles; wide globular jars with wide open flaring rims with a vertical handle, known as “chamber pots”; and pilgrim flasks. Pilgrim flasks are globular or lentoid in shape, possess a narrow neck and two small vertical handles, and a round body that was often decorated with concentric circular designs on a cream or red slipped and burnished background.120 Originating outside Egypt, the pilgrim flasks found in Egypt consisted generally of imitations made from local clays and can therefore be considered “locally” produced. Lastly, traditional pointed or round-based Nile silt cups and bowls were ubiquitous, and were found at sites along the margins (e.g., Tell el-​Retaba) as well in the north (e.g., Tanis), Middle Egypt (e.g., el-​Hiba), and the south (e.g., North Karnak, Elephantine). Small open dishes made of silt, with rim diameters of under 15 cm, are commonly found throughout Egypt and served numerous functions, including as lids, containers, and lamps.121 At el-​Hiba, the notable absence of bread molds and beer jars,122 alongside an increase in handmade bread trays, a phenomenon also seen elsewhere, may suggest a change in traditional methods of bread making.123 The presence of many small ovens in domestic contexts suggests that small-​scale household production of pottery may be tied to both the limited repertoire of pottery forms,124 and the increased use of baking trays rather than molds for bread making. Coarse fabric baking trays

119. Wodzińska 2010: 220. 120. Wodzińska 2010: 193. 121. Rexine Hummel, personal communication (May 11, 2021). 122. Rexine Hummel, personal communication (May 11, 2021). 123. Marchand 2017: 227–​228. 124. Bennett 2019: 159.

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were easily made by hand (with many examples still bearing finger marks) and allowed bread to be baked more efficiently than did the use of molds. Luxury items were rare, and in many cases appear to be New Kingdom heirlooms. For example, the 1992 metal hoard found at Bubastis consisted of alabaster jugs, amulets, jewelry, scarabs, and glass.125 The earliest inscribed item was a blue glass plaque bearing the name of Ahmose, the founder of the Eighteenth Dynasty (­chapter 26 in volume 3), but the hoard was probably deposited during the Third Intermediate Period due to the presence of silver and gold pendants in Third Intermediate Period style.126 At Tell el-​Retaba, excavations brought to light a fine pot in the shape of a tilapia fish, which had likely been produced in the New Kingdom and remained an heirloom piece in the Third Intermediate Period.127 The settlement archaeology of Egypt during the Third Intermediate Period reflects both continuities with the New Kingdom and developments in response to changes in population numbers, ethnicities, economics, and the pressures of political fluctuations. For the most part, Egyptians in settlements across Egypt continued to live in much the same way as their New Kingdom ancestors, although they may have had more limited access to the wide range of luxury items enjoyed in the previous age. This is perhaps indicated by the fact that the luxuries they had often were New Kingdom heirlooms. The reuse and adaptation of earlier items is also seen in the burial practices of the period (section 35.4.3).

35.4.3.  Burial practices Among the most visible changes in the archaeological record are those related to burial practices. The material remains attest to changes not only in funerary practices, but also in concepts of the afterlife, undoubtedly affected by the socioeconomic and political atmosphere of Egypt

125. Bakr 2008: 79–​96; Bakr and Brandl 2010: 45–​47. 126. Bakr and Brandl 2010: 43–​54. 127. Wodzińska 2019: 96–​99.

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at this time. Egypt of the eleventh and tenth centuries bc was a country of isolation, internal division, and economic recession. These conditions resulted in adaptive mechanisms that altered the traditional practices of tomb building and bodily protection that had been in place for millennia. The kings of the Twenty-​first Dynasty established Tanis in the northeastern delta as the new royal city, and the city kept this function under the kings of the Twenty-​second Dynasty. At the center of the northern part of the tell was the temple of Amun, King of the Gods. Built by Psusennes I, and enlarged by Siamun, Osorkon II, and Sheshonq III, the sacred precinct of Tanis was modeled after Karnak, deliberately making Tanis the “Thebes of the North.”128 Undoubtedly the most important find at Tanis was the royal necropolis situated in the southwest corner of the main temple enclosure (figure 35.5). In use from the Twenty-​first and Twenty-​second Dynasties, the royal tombs at Tanis appear to be poor royal resting places in comparison with the expansive and magnificently decorated New Kingdom tombs of the Valley of the Kings. While most of the superstructures of the Tanite tombs have been lost, the substructure provides us with a fairly clear idea of this new royal burial practice. The royal tombs of Tanis were generally small, consisting of single-​ room or multi-​roomed granite-​lined chambers. With the exception of three tombs (NRT I, III, and V, corresponding to the buildings marked as A, B, and C in figure 35.5), the walls of the Tanite royal tombs were bare of inscriptions or decoration.129 Interred in the nine tombs were the remains of kings of the Twenty-​first and Twenty-​second Dynasties, and of important officials of the Tanite court. The earliest tombs belonged to the era of Psusennes I. Remains of Amenemope, Ankhefmut (a son of Psusennes I), and Wendjebauendjed (a high official under Psusennes I) were also found. The Twenty-​second Dynasty rulers Sheshonq II, Osorkon II and Takelot II, as well as Osorkon II’s son Hornakht, were also buried in the necropolis. Although the bodies of Sheshonq I and Sheshonq III have not been found, it seems that the necropolis had been

128. Montet 1933: 171–​172; 1952: 28–​51; Loth 2014: 35–​36; Bard 2015: 294. 129. Montet 1952: 106–​122; Loth 2014: 37.

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Figure 35.5.  Plan of the royal necropolis at Tanis. A: Tomb of Osorkon II; B: tomb of an unidentified person; C: tomb of Psusennes I; D: chamber prepared for Amenemope; E: tomb of Shoshenq III; F and G: chambers dismantled in antiquity. Reproduced from Shaw 2003: 228, with permission.

intended as their final resting place, as indicated by the surviving funerary equipment inscribed for them.130 The finds from the necropolis proved spectacular. In addition to coffins and sarcophagi, funerary masks, gold and silver vessels, and jewelry of semi-​precious stones amounted to a treasure numbering some 600 items. Tomb NRT III (=​C in figure 35.5) was found with its contents intact. It consisted of three limestone-​lined rooms and two granite burial chambers. In the northern chamber was found the burial of Psusennes I. His mummy was adorned with a glass-​and lapis-​lazuli-​inlaid solid gold funerary mask, and was enclosed in a solid silver coffin that was placed inside the usurped sarcophagus of the Nineteenth Dynasty ruler

130. Montet 1945: 504–​517; 1952: 113–​114.

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Merenptah.131 The southern burial chamber was likely intended for Psusennes’s wife, Mutnedjmet, but was usurped by Amenemope, whose body was deposited in Mutnedjmet’s coffin, which was reinscribed with Amenemope’s name.132 Tomb NRT III was also the final resting place for the last two kings of the Twenty-​first Dynasty, Siamun and Psusennes II. Sheshonq II of the Twenty-​second Dynasty was also deposited in the tomb, interred in a solid silver falcon-​headed coffin, as described earlier (­figure 35.3). The assemblage of the Tanite royal tombs demonstrates both the desire to anchor the present to the past and the use of new approaches to meet the challenges of the present. That royal burials were now situated inside the sacred temple precinct may speak as much to an atmosphere of intense piety as to the desire for physical and spiritual security in this time of upheaval and uncertainty. Economic considerations no doubt played a major role in the scale of tomb building as well as the funerary equipment that was used. The burials of the kings and elites in the royal necropolis show numerous examples of reuse and usurpation of New Kingdom tomb equipment. In addition to Psusennes I’s appropriation of Merenptah’s sarcophagus, a Middle Kingdom sarcophagus reinscribed for Amenemope was found in Tomb NRT IV (=​D in figure 35.5).133 Moreover, luxury items originally from Theban tombs of New Kingdom royals and elites were also found at Tanis. While the reuse of funerary equipment certainly tells a tale of impoverishment and a desire to connect with the glory days of Egyptian history, the reuse of coffins and goods by the Tanite kings and elites also demonstrates cooperation between the north and the south during the Twenty-​first Dynasty. In comparison to the New Kingdom royal tombs of the Valley of the Kings, the Tanite tombs were small, cramped, and of inferior construction. These sparsely decorated tombs of the Tanite kings, equipped with

131. Montet 1945: 505; 1952: 116–​117. 132. Aston 2009a: 54; Dodson 2016: 108. Mutnedjmet was likely buried in NRT IV, Amenemope’s original tomb, in which a number of shabti figures bearing his name were found. 133. See also Dodson 2016: 107–​108.

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valuables acquired from the Theban necropolis, may be evidence of the general impoverishment of the period. However, Anthony Leahy viewed this austerity also as the remnants of a culturally Libyan, nomadic outlook, expressing “an indifference to elaborate long-​term preparations for death, or to permanent memorials.”134 This perspective is echoed by Karl Jansen-​Winkeln, who suggested that the disproportionately small and poorly decorated tombs indicate that they were not planned or prepared during the lifetime of the Tanite kings and have little basis in Egyptian traditions.135 Throughout the Twenty-​first Dynasty, the priesthood of Amun in Thebes was engaged in the systematic “renewal” of the burials of the New Kingdom kings, that is, tomb robbery, a practice already in place during the late New Kingdom.136 In the process of these state-​implemented tomb robberies, the funerary goods were recirculated into the mortuary economy, and the bodies of kings were reconsecrated and moved to more secure locations. A number of mummy caches have been located, the most famous of which is TT 320 (also known as DB 320), the family tomb of the Twenty-​first Dynasty High Priest of Amun, Pinudjem II, which in the Twenty-​second Dynasty was used as the repository for a number of New Kingdom royal mummies.137 In TT 320, over fifty mummies of members of the royal family and of Theban elites were cached, alongside almost six thousand objects. Although the royal mummies cached in the tomb belonged to the New Kingdom, they are the result of Twenty-​first Dynasty initiatives. Dockets found on mummies attest to the numerous “reburials” (wehem qeres, literally “repetition of burial”) of royal mummies after they had been stripped of their associated burial goods. The denuded royal mummies were placed in poor-​quality coffins and were subsequently cached in the family tomb of the High Priest of Amun, Pinudjem I, after Year

134. Leahy 1985: 62. 135. Jansen-​Winkeln 2017: 210–​211. 136. Reeves and Wilkinson 1996: 205. 137. Reeves 2000: 64–​65.

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11 of Sheshonq I in the Twenty-​second Dynasty.138 Another tomb in the Valley of the Kings, that of Amenhotep II (KV 35), was also used to cache royal mummies probably from the early part of the Twenty-​first Dynasty under Smendes.139 Unlike in Tanis, tomb building ceased almost entirely in Thebes during the first phase of the Third Intermediate Period, especially in the private sphere. Instead, the inhabitants of Thebes reused older tombs in the Theban Necropolis. Tombs from the New Kingdom were used for interments of families, and the practice of burying many individuals together continued for the remainder of the Third Intermediate Period. This practice seems to have penetrated all levels of society; thus the case of two tombs of New Kingdom princes in the Valley of the Queens (QV 43 and QV 44), which were used to hold the bodies of thirty individuals from three distinct low-​status families spanning several generations.140 It appears that the use of temple precincts as burial grounds, already instituted by the kings at Tanis, extended in reach to Thebes. In the course of the ninth–​eighth centuries bc, families from various Theban priesthoods appropriated the storerooms of the Ramesseum, cutting shafts into the floors that led to small burial chambers.141 At Deir el-​ Bahri, a number of underground burials of Theban elites were found within the temple grounds, and the burial equipment of members of the Twenty-​third Dynasty royal family was discovered in burial shafts in the chapels of the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut.142 At Medinet Habu, women with the title of “Singers in the Residence of the Temple of Amun,” who were personnel in the institutional hierarchy of the God’s Wives of Amun, also reused the temple precinct and even

138. Reeves and Wilkinson 1996: 197. 139. Reeves and Wilkinson 1996: 198–​199. 140. Schiaparelli 1923–​1927; Elias 1993: 146–​168. 141. Quibell 1896; Aston 2003: 193. 142. Li 2017: 65–​70.

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constructed burial chambers beneath the floors of the mortuary temple of Rameses III.143 From the late ninth into the eighth century bc onward, there was a return to the more traditional practice of tomb building. At Medinet Habu, the God’s Wives of Amun constructed funerary complexes consisting of chapels and burial chambers. During the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty, members of the Theban elite, such as the Fourth Prophet of Amun and Mayor of Thebes, Montuemhat, began the tradition of building monumental tombs that married elements of temple architecture to traditional mortuary architecture.144 Variously called “temple-​ tombs” or “palace-​tombs,” these tombs, located in the Asasif region of the Theban necropolis, are the largest private tombs ever built in Egypt.145 Kings of the Twenty-​first and Twenty-​second Dynasties were buried at Tanis. Kenneth Kitchen argued for Leontopolis as the capital of the Twenty-​third Dynasty, while German excavations uncovered the likely burial of Iuput II at Buto (modern Tell Fara’in).146 The Kushite kings, although they were rulers of Egypt who generally resided in Egypt, all chose sites in Nubia as their places of rest (­chapter 36 this volume). The cemetery of el-​Kurru appears to have been the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty ancestral cemetery, consisting of monumental tumuli, as well as the pyramid-​style tombs of the eighth–​sixth-​century bc Nubian rulers of Egypt. Excavated by George Reisner, the el-​Kurru cemetery consisted of the pyramids of Kashta, Piankhy, Shabataqo, Shabaqo, and Tanutamani, while Tarhaqo’s pyramid was constructed at the Nuri cemetery. Unsurprisingly, the chronology of the el-​Kurru cemetery is the subject of much contention. Reisner’s interpretation of the cemetery placed the pyramids of the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty kings as the “last generation” in the tomb sequence, and dated the earliest tumulus tombs to the mid-​ ninth century bc. However, others have proposed a long chronology of

143. Li 2017: 70–​83. 144. Russman 1994; 1997. 145. Eigner 1999: 433–​438. 146. Kitchen 1986: 351; Hartung et al. 2009: 98–​110.

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tomb building beginning at the end of the New Kingdom in the mid-​ eleventh century bc.147 Similar changes and developments are seen in the private burial practices of the period. With the greatly reduced space and access to resources, many of the necessary magical protections and accouterments that ensured a successful afterlife moved to the coffins, steles, and the body of the deceased itself, a situation seen already in the First Intermediate Period. Most of the best-​studied corpora of burial equipment are of Theban provenance, and therefore the following discussion likely reflects distinctly southern developments (although studies of material from Akhmim and the recent finds of large caches of Third Intermediate and Late Period coffins from Saqqara will undoubtedly enrich future discussions on burial practices in the Third Intermediate Period). The typical identifying inscriptions found on coffins and steles often preserved extensive genealogical information, a practice that may have been influenced by Libyan culture, as seen on the so-​called donation steles from Lower Egypt. A typical burial assemblage of the Third Intermediate Period included nested coffins, painted wooden steles, funerary papyri (the production of which flourished in the Twenty-​ first Dynasty), shabtis in shabti boxes, Ptah-​Sokar-​Osiris statuettes, and canopic jars. As already discussed (section 35.3.1), during the early Third Intermediate Period, the High Priests of Amun regularly monitored the thefts in the Theban necropolis and reconsecrated disturbed interments. In the process of “renewing” the burials, tomb equipment was repurposed for use by all levels of society. In fact, most of the preserved coffins of the Twenty-​first and early Twenty-​second Dynasties were repurposed Ramesside Period coffins, with the result that only fewer than a hundred unchanged Ramesside coffins have survived.148 Reuse of coffins took many forms, from minor alterations in the decorative program to the addition of substantial new elements. On some coffins, only the name of

147. For example, Török 1999. 148. Cooney 2017: 101.

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the old owner was replaced with that of the new owner, whereas other coffins were replastered and redecorated across their entire surface. The most complete reuse would have been a thorough reconstruction of a coffin, leaving only the raw wood material of the original, but this level of comprehensive appropriation leaves little trace.149 Kara Cooney’s ongoing study of Twenty-​first Dynasty coffin reuse suggests a systematic and state-​monitored, but not state-​controlled, consignment of coffins, at least in Thebes.150 In a study drawing on about 250 coffins, 65% of her corpus showed signs of possible reuse, and even when stringent criteria are applied, Cooney’s results still suggest that about 45% of these coffins were retooled.151 Her study of the eighteen coffins of the Bab el-​Gasus cache in the collection of the Egyptian Museum in Florence indicated that all of these coffins had been reused. While governmental oversight is evident, at least at the royal level, Cooney concludes that on the private level, it appears that the systematic acquisition and recirculation of the base material coffins operated within, and was restricted to, family contexts, rather than through acquisition on the open (or black) market.152 For example, the coffin in the Vatican Museum of a woman with the Libyan name of Ikhy preserved the older name Medydyt, which is also a Libyan name.153 Cooney suggests that since both names were Libyan, the owners may have been related, and the preservation of Medydyt’s name provided Ikhy with an ancestral link.154 Moreover, the frequent gender modification on coffins provides circumstantial evidence that the resources that fueled Twenty-​first Dynasty reuse were acquired from the burials of relatives. Gender modification to coffins would have been costly, requiring the addition or alterations of wigs, earrings, and hands, as well as repainting. 149. Cooney 2017: 103. 150. Cooney 2007; 2014; 2017; 2019. 151. Cooney 2019: 495. 152. Cooney 2018: 310; 2019: 499. 153. Vatican Museum, inventory no. 25035.3.1; see Cooney 2017: 104. 154. Cooney 2017: 104.

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If coffins of the desired gender could be acquired on the market, there would be little need for such extensive alterations.155 Furthermore, such a regulated, “keep it in the family” form of reuse ensured supply, as well as reinforced ties with the past. Such a scenario of private family circulation of symbolically laden objects, such as funerary equipment, potentially highlights important theological and cultural changes to the Egyptian understanding of death, rituals, and the role played by material objects in funerary rituals. For the Egyptians, it was the ritual materiality of the coffin that was important, that is, the forms and decorations of the coffins as part of the process of the successful transfiguration of the spirit in the afterlife. This understanding of the essential function of the physical object in ritual actions likely motivated the widespread reuse of coffins during the economic scarcity of the early Third Intermediate Period.156 The lack of a coffin (and associated funerary objects) was of more concern than the questionable disrespect to one’s ancestors. In fact, the reuse of the coffins of one’s relatives may have been seen as a way of preserving the memory and link to one’s family and ancestors, the focus on the ever-​ present past being a cultural phenomenon of this period. In addition to widespread reuse of coffins, the symbolic and religious repertoire on the coffins also reveals changes to cultural and religious imperatives throughout the entire period. In the Twenty-​first and early Twenty-​second Dynasties, elite coffin sets consisted of two wooden anthropoid coffins and a mummy-​board. The coffin surfaces were fully decorated and varnished, and with age, the coffins tended to develop a yellow patina. These “yellow coffins” featured resurrection imagery of scarab beetles and winged sun-​discs. The sides of the coffins were also decorated with vignettes from the Book of the Dead. In the late Twenty-​ first Dynasty, the stola type of coffin was introduced, characterized by large floral collars and painted red leather straps that crossed the chest, and evoked the protective imagery associated with mummiform gods

155. Cooney 2017: 104. 156. This is what Cooney 2007 termed “functional materialism.” See also Cooney 2017: 112; 2019: 508.

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such as Ptah, Min, and Osiris.157 Twenty-​first Dynasty coffins also often had three-​dimensional modeled hands crossed over the chest. By the ninth century bc, coffins had lost their modeled elements, and a trend toward minimalism appeared, with decorations often restricted to the face and collar, and the surface of the coffin decorated simply with a single line of identifying inscription. These coffins were produced at a time when free-​standing tombs began to reappear in Thebes. Other coffin lids were more densely decorated, but the decorations became standardized; a common motif was the two-​falcons, which usually consisted of a winged ram-​headed falcon with upcurved wings and bird-​headed falcon with wings curved down.158 This motif is similarly found on the newly introduced innermost mummy casing made of cartonnage, which was basically an envelope of gessoed or stucco fabric that was then painted.159 Practically speaking, cartonnage cases were probably introduced to curb the rampant usurpation of coffins, as the removal of the bodies would likely result in substantial damage to the casing.160 The focus on falcon imagery became popular in the Twenty-​second Dynasty; they were also seen on wooden steles that depicted the deceased adoring Ra-​Horakhty, and also in a number of falcon-​headed coffins and sarcophagi of Libyan royals.161 By the eighth century bc, single-​piece cartonnage cases were increasingly superseded by a new type of wooden bivalve anthropoid coffin. It was used as the inner coffin and represented the mummy placed on a pedestal.162 The exterior imagery of these pedestal coffins focused on the judgment and presentation of the deceased before the gods, and the protection and transfiguration of the deceased.163 The interiors of the coffins 157. Taylor 2001: 230. 158. Taylor 2001: 106. 159. Aston 2009a: 279. 160. Aston 2020: 687. 161. Broekman 2009: 67–​81. 162. Taylor 2003: 112–​114; Aston 2009a: 284–​285. 163. Taylor 2001: 238; Aston 2009a: 287.

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featured four general designs: the goddess Nut or goddess of the West drawn in profile or frontally on the inside of the lid and the djed pillar on the interior of the case; the interior surface divided into compartments and filled with texts and figures; excerpts from the Book of the Dead or the hetep-​di-​nesut offering formula, written in horizontal lines in the main area and vertically on the sides. Lastly, figures of the goddess in color or outlined in black drawn on both the lid and on the case were added, sometimes surrounded by inscriptions.164 The anthropoid outer coffin was replaced by the qersu coffin of four corner posts and vaulted lids, likely an archaizing type evoking Old Kingdom coffins and sarcophagi.165 The greatest expenditure of resources was on coffins and their decorations. However, the Third Intermediate Period Egyptian did not stint on the other elements in the funerary assemblage. For example, papyrus rolls of funerary literature further aided and reinforced the chances of a successful afterlife for the deceased. Funerary papyri were most commonly found associated with burials datable to the Twenty-​first and early Twenty-​second Dynasties, that is, the early Third Intermediate Period. As with all the other types of funerary goods, quality varied, ranging from custom-​made papyri to “off the shelf ” rolls, in which blank spaces were left for the insertion of a name.166 In the Twenty-​first Dynasty, as part of the assumption of royal prerogatives, the family of the High Priests of Amun appropriated royal iconography from the New Kingdom in their papyri. High-​status individuals were often equipped with two funerary papyri, one inscribed with texts from the Book of the Dead and the other comprising images.167 In the early part of the Dynasty, funerary papyri shared by couples were common, with the female partner often shown in a subordinate position or smaller in scale. By the mid-​Twenty-​first Dynasty, papyri became individual property, and only the owner of the

164. Taylor 2003: 116; Aston 2009a: 288. 165. Taylor 2001: 238. 166. Niwiński 1989: 18. 167. Taylor 2001: 200.

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papyrus was depicted, with standardized content regardless of gender.168 The contents of the papyri expressed the concept of a successful afterlife through a solar-​Osirian unity in which the deceased achieved a number of solar and Osirian aspects.169 The solar-​Osirian unity was further reinforced through the placement of papyri in the base of Ptah-​Sokar-​Osiris statuettes as an alternative to placement inside the coffins.170 Papyri production slowed in the Twenty-​ second Dynasty, with the last datable papyrus found within the burial of the High Priest Sheshonq, the grandson of Osorkon I.171 This was also when coffin decoration became more standardized and simplified. The inclusion of funerary papyri was revived in the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty, a time when a standardized, fixed sequence of chapters dealing with the burial of the dead (equipping the dead with divine power and knowledge, judgment, and transfiguration) was used.172 The abrupt cessation of funerary papyri is associated with the increased popularity of wooden funerary steles in the burial assemblage. The round-​topped steles of the early Third Intermediate Period depicted the deceased standing before a laden offering table in adoration of a god, usually Ra-​Horakhty. The lunate was usually sparsely inscribed with a short prayer and the names, titles, and filiation of the deceased. However, it will come as no surprise that the steles themselves underwent considerable iconographic and stylistic changes. Lisa Swart suggests that Twenty-​ first Dynasty steles exhibited greater freedom in repertoire and a higher quality in execution than those from the early Twenty-​second Dynasty, when stele motifs became increasingly standardized. This may have been the result of the early Libyan kings’ attempts to centralize and curb the independence of the Theban region.173 As the Libyan period descended 168. Swart 2008: 210. 169. Swart 2008: 211. 170. Raven 1978–​1979: 286. 171. Niwiński 1989: 42. 172. Niwinski 1989: 43; Mosher 1992: 143–​172. 173. Swart 2007: 518–​538.

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into rivalries between contemporary dynasties, the decorative program on the steles became more densely decorated with registers of vignettes or long complex texts. With regard to religious practices, the steles also reflected an increased concern for security and the assurance of identity preservation. In parallel with the changes seen in the decorative repertoire on coffins, the motifs on steles focused on protection and a single scene of the deceased adoring a god, which also assumed a predetermined, successful outcome of the afterlife. This was in contrast to the attitude that fueled the inclusion of the funerary papyri, which served as a guide/​road map through the underworld to reinforce the potential of a positive outcome. Peter Munro suggested that it became increasingly necessary to include funerary steles in response to the increasingly austere tomb architecture of the period.174 Tombs generally no longer possessed a superstructure with a separate cult area, but consisted merely of a single chamber with a vaulted roof, or rock-​cut family vaults in which many members were interred. The lack of a separate cult area, then, necessitated the funerary steles that depicted the act of worship by the deceased, and moreover, indicated a change in the target audience of the steles. Rather than an object for public viewing to reinforce the deceased’s status to the living, the steles were now meant to be viewed by the gods, who were essential for the safety and security of people. On the mortal side of things, each individual, especially those placed in cache burials, usually possessed a stele, which served to distinguish and emphasize individual identity, especially within group interments.175 Another vital component of the funerary assemblage was the collection of shabti figurines. If the steles served to commemorate the individual person of the tomb owner, shabti figures became increasingly depersonalized. Originally conceived as representing the tomb owner, by the Third Intermediate Period, shabtis had come to take on the meaning of servants for the deceased. In earlier periods, shabtis were limited in

174. Munro 1973: 5–​6. 175. Saleh 2007: 96.

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quantity, but during the Third Intermediate Period the number of shabti figures included in a burial assemblage increased exponentially, reaching 401 in some cases, representing the full complement of 365 workers and 36 overseers.176 With this quantitative demand, shabtis started to be mass-​manufactured out of faience and pottery in molds, and their quality tended to be mediocre, although northern funerary figurines were often of better quality than southern ones.177 Faience shabtis of the Twenty-​ first and Twenty-​second Dynasties tended to have blue and green glazes, respectively, with the names and titles of the owner or the “shabti spell” inscribed on figurines of higher quality.178 In the eighth and seventh centuries bc, however, the Kushite royal family and members of the Theban elite also had larger, high-​quality shabti figures carved from dark stone. The developments in burial practices resulted from the inextricable ties between the social, political, and religious spheres in the Egyptian worldview. In the early Third Intermediate Period, group burials and reuse of funerary equipment may have begun as a response to reduced economic circumstances and a desire for security in numbers. Due to spatial constraints, the types of essential funerary goods decreased in number, and the religious symbolism and motifs previously found on tomb walls were concentrated in the immediate vicinity of the body, resulting in lavishly and densely decorated coffins. At the same time, the reuse, reworking, and reassignment of identity on the coffins also demonstrate a conceptual change that tied the importance of a successful afterlife to the performance of the rituals of death rather than the permanent possession of the objects themselves, as ownership of any given object may have been only temporary.179 While the performative ritual actions associated with the objects may have assumed primacy, the cultural investment in materially preserved and sustained identity never dissipated. Moreover, the decorative program seen on coffins, steles, and

176. Taylor 2001: 127. 177. Aston 2021: 685. 178. Taylor 2001: 128. 179. Cooney 2019: 507.

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papyri often focused on the deceased performing acts of adoration and veneration, suggesting a deeply seated cultural atmosphere of personal piety (section 35.4.5). The appearance of individualized wooden steles in cache tombs in the Twenty-​second Dynasty was probably a response to the ephemeral nature of identity preservation associated with coffins. The age-​old desire for abundance and security of identity in the afterlife also persisted, and was now secured through the production of lengthy and complex funerary papyri, and the increase in the quantity of shabti figurines and other funerary goods. In the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty there was a revival of individualized burial goods, seen with the introduction of the qersu coffin, and a return to private tombs, such as the monumental tombs of the Theban elite in the Asasif region of western Thebes.

35.4.4.  Artistic developments The ever-​present past in Third Intermediate Period culture is very evident in its art, which displays a strong tendency toward archaism, meaning the deliberate use of styles and motifs from previous periods. In royal art, kings of the Twenty-​first Dynasty emulated the Ramesside style (­chapter 27 in volume 3). The Libyan kings drew inspiration from the youthful imagery of Thutmosid art of the Eighteenth Dynasty (­chapter 26 in volume 3).180 Kushite royal images were modeled on the Old Kingdom (­chapter 7 in volume 1), a style already revived in the late Twenty-​second and Twenty-​third Dynasties. Kushite royal iconography subverted traditional Egyptian representations of Nubians, highlighting the vitality and athleticism of the Nubian kings through the use of Old Kingdom–​style proportions and exaggerated musculature in relief and sculpture.181 In private art, male figures continued to follow New Kingdom traditions, with slender, elegant bodies clothed in elaborately pleated garments. Female figures, however, changed noticeably from the slender

180. Myśliwiec 1988: 19. 181. Russmann 1974: 22–​24.

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proportions found in the late New Kingdom to a much more voluptuous figure featuring a high slender waist atop heavy hips and thighs and below large breasts in Libyan art,182 while in Kushite period art, women were shown with athletic, straight bodies reminiscent of Old Kingdom prototypes. The exaggeration of the female body in Libyan period art may have focused on the female and reproductive potential of the feminine creative principle in funerary ideology.183 The Third Intermediate Period was also a period of intensive and high-​quality metallurgical production. Statues and figurines were produced on a larger scale than in previous periods, often of exceptional quality. Divine, royal, and private bronze statues and statuettes were frequently elaborately gilded and inlaid with precious metals and gem-​ stones.184 The popularity of kneeling statues, royal and priestly, was probably a reflection of the personal piety of the period and, in the course of the eighth century bc, possibly was connected to Kushite piety.185

35.4.5.  Religion and personal piety Cultural production in the Third Intermediate Period seems to reflect a growing sentiment focused on personal, intimate relationships between gods and individuals. Personal piety was by no means a new phenomenon created in the Third Intermediate Period. In fact, the Ramesside period has been characterized as the age of personal piety.186 Kara Cooney, in c­ hapter 27 in volume 3, suggests that what appears to be evidence of personal piety in the Ramesside Period was a reaction to the waning power of kingship and the competition for status, and a sign of increased reliance on temple institutions for economic and social security. If we follow this particular line of thought, all the factors that caused

182. Robins 1997: 208. 183. Leahy 1989: 47; Robins 1997: 208. 184. Mendoza 2006: 7. 185. Hill 2004: 44–​45. 186. Breasted 1912: 349.

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an uptick in visible elite displays of religiosity and piety remained and were strengthened in the Third Intermediate Period. We must remember that even though scholars partition history into discrete eras, sociocultural developments are part of a continuous flow. Factors such as economic insecurity, destabilized power, the shift in allegiance from king to temple, and increased regional fragmentation may have impacted the common populace even more profoundly than the elites who had differing degrees of agency in affecting political developments. Unlike the Ramesside period, when displays of piety were played out against the conspicuous consumption surrounding tomb construction, in the Third Intermediate Period the focus on personal, individual relationships with selected gods can be seen in all aspects of religious and social life, from the most fundamental identity marker, the name, to graffiti, biographical inscriptions, and literary texts, as well as in daily objects of adornment and domestic use. While theophoric names (names that are compounded with names of the gods) were common in all eras of Egyptian history, the Third Intermediate Period witnessed a great expansion in their variety and use. Theophoric names of the period expressed the attachment, support by, or devotion of an individual to a particular god, and also reflected the increasing popularity of child gods.187 Common names include “Y belongs to the deity X” (e.g., Neskhonsu, “She who belongs to the god Khonsu”) or “Y is the servant of the deity X” (e.g., Tabakenmut, “She is the servant of the goddess Mut”). Names could also express an individual’s intimate relationship with a deity, by naming them as a gift given by the god (e.g., Amenirdis, “It is the god Amun who has given her”). Expressions of filial relationships, describing the individual as the son or daughter of a god (e.g., Siamun, “Son of the god Amun”), were also commonly used.188 Regional attachment to local deities and cults is also reflected in names.189 The particular understanding of the gods as patrons

187. Adderley 2015: 226. 188. Vittmann 2013. 189. Adderley 2015: 218–​225.

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who protect their devotees and who took particular interest in the individual from birth is expressed in names such as “The one whom the deity X has given” (e.g., Padiamun, “The one whom the god Amun has given”), or “The deity X says he/​she will live” (e.g., Djedamuniuefankh, “The god Amun says he will live”). The latter name type appears to reference the popular practice of oracular consultation, particularly at Thebes. Another category of names indicates the cultural trend of ancestor veneration (e.g., Tanetmerypara, “She who belongs to Merypara”).190 Scholars have noted the more widespread and heightened atmosphere of personal religiosity during the Libyan period, as well as the prominent political ideology of the involvement of gods, such as Amun, in the government of the country.191 As a result of the increased focus on personal relationships with deities, people began to involve the gods more and more in their daily lives. They were consulted about issues related to professions or property, and mediated in disputes, marriages, sales, and appointments to government offices, and were exhorted to prevent or cure illnesses via oracles. Oracular consultations are especially well attested for Thebes in the Twenty-​first Dynasty. Inhabitants of Thebes regularly consulted oracles to receive instructions and predictions of queried outcomes. For non-​ royals and the general population, petitions took place during festivals and processions, when individuals were allowed to approach and query the divine image of the deity in a shrine or installed on a sacred barque. The petitions were usually written on ostraca and papyri in the form of “yes/​no” questions or a list of possible responses from which the oracle would choose. Often the answer to the question was indicated by a motion, perhaps a forward or backward movement, which indicated approval/​disapproval or agreement/​disagreement.192 The records of the results of these oracular consultations came in a variety of forms that met the needs of the different echelons of society.

190. Adderley 2015: 227. 191. Adderley 2015: 239. 192. Adderley 2015: 240.

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Elites and temple institutions used oracular property decrees as legal proof of ownership and guarantees of title over private property.193 Especially important oracular decisions concerning disputes and property ownership of the highest elites were included in steles, or carved on temple walls.194 For the general population, evidence of oracular consultation is embodied in a particular class of objects called oracular amuletic decrees. Thin strips of vertically oriented papyri bearing brief horizontally written oracular assurances for the safety and well-​being of the bearer were encased in cylindrical containers and worn as apotropaic protection. While most examples of the amuletic containers were made of wood or leather, a few were made of gold. For the most part, oracular amuletic decrees were worn by the priestly class (although not the highest ranks), and the concerns recorded on these strips of papyri focused on the prevention of illnesses and injuries, the fending off of evil forces and intent, and the protection of children, that is, the needs of quotidian life.195 These oracular amuletic decrees are also reflective of the general atmosphere of more intimate personal relationships with gods in the early Libyan Period, as most have been dated to the Twenty-​first and Twenty-​second Dynasties based on paleography.196 In Theban oracular amuletic decrees, often more than one god appears. These gods included Montu or Montu-​Horakhty, Mut, and Khonsu, and occasionally also Amun. The amuletic decrees bear lengthy enumerations of dangers from which the bearer pleads for aversion. Of the twenty-​two published decrees,197 eight belonged to owners with male names and fourteen to owners with female names. Only the names of the owners and their parents, without titles or additional information, are included. The amulets

193. Muhs 2009: 265–​275. 194. For examples, see Adderley 2015: 245–​248. 195. Lucarelli 2009: 231–​232. 196. Although Ritner 2009: 74 suggests the Twenty-​second and Twenty-​third Dynas­ ties. 197. Edwards 1960; Bohleke 1997: 155–​167.

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may have been primarily produced for children, as the content of the decrees exhorts that the gods ensure happy childhoods, and optimal growth and development for the bearer. Declarations from the gods also exhibit a focus on health and well-​being, with a primary concern for protection from malevolent forces.198 Interestingly, the physical dimensions of the papyri may reinforce the identification of owners of amulets as children. Terry Wilfong suggested that the varying length of papyrus strips, disparate from the length of the oracular decrees themselves, indicated that each were likely cut to the height of the owners of the amulets at the time of the decree. That the lengths ranged from 32–​147 cm, with the majority of examples (12 pieces) averaging 92 cm or longer, suggests that if these papyri were cut to the height of their owners, then none of them was an adult.199 The amuletic decrees are also evidence of the increased popularity of mammisiac religion during this period, as a number of amuletic decrees only name the mother of the owner. Mammisiac religion, focused on child-​and mother-​divinities, increased in momentum throughout the course of the Third Intermediate Period and became well established with the practice of building so-​called mammisis (“birth houses”) in Late Period and Ptolemaic temples.200 Osorkon II, for example, built a small temple of Mihos, the child of Bastet and Atum, at Bubastis, that may have included an early version of a birth house. The focus on mother-​ child relationships is also seen in increased representations of kings as divine children. For example, the Bubastite Portal at the Karnak temple depicts Sheshonq I suckled by the goddess Hathor. Throughout the Third Intermediate Period, people continued to define and redefine their relationship with the gods. In general, the religious practices of the Third Intermediate Period followed the traditional religious template, and continued the trend of personal piety already seen in the Ramesside Period. Because we lack monumental inscribed objects,

198. Adderley 2015: 193–​200. 199. Wilfong 2013: 295–​300. 200. Arnold 1999: 39, 54.

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in many ways the evidence from the Third Intermediate Period offers a more concrete definition of personal relationships with gods. Votive objects, amulets, figurines, and domestic evidence all demonstrate that the Egyptians of the Third Intermediate Period viewed gods as ever present, ever watchful, and ready to intervene on behalf of their devotees. The relationship between people and gods was by nature subservient and unequal, yet nonetheless intimate and personal. One’s personal god acted on the concerns of everyday practicalities—​offering protection from harm, providing success in personal and economic situations, and of course, repulsing malevolent forces. And acts of piety made in return left behind the traces of votive objects and oracle decrees and amulets.201

35.4.6. Women The evidence from all areas of life and death reveals some profound changes in religion and society in Egypt in the first half of the first millennium bc. In addition to the elevation of the priesthood of Amun, and a correlated reduction in the status of kingship, there was a very evident increase in the participation of women in temple bureaucracy and politics. The greatest evidence for the prominence of women comes from the expanded visibility and power of the office of the God’s Wife of Amun. Of all the positions and titles held by women throughout Egyptian history, the God’s Wife of Amun is perhaps one of the most extensively studied. The office was not new: the first God’s Wife of Amun was Ahmose Nefertari, the wife of the first king of the Eighteenth Dynasty (­chapter 26 in volume 3). The elevation of a previously obscure office was likely intended to bolster the reunification efforts of the Theban kings after the expulsion of the Hyksos. In the New Kingdom, the title came within the purview of chief wives or royal daughters: Hatshepsut of the Eighteenth Dynasty held the title, as did the Great Royal Wives of the first three rulers of the Nineteenth Dynasty, and Queen Tausret, the last

201. Adderley 2015: 299–​300.

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Nineteenth Dynasty ruler (­chapter 27 in volume 3).202 An important change to the nature of the office of God’s Wife of Amun occurred in the late New Kingdom, when Isis, the daughter of Rameses VI, held the office for twenty-​five years, well into the reign of Rameses XI (1099–​ 1069 bc). Isis was the first God’s Wife of Amun to remain unmarried. This came to be an essential feature of the office’s character in the Third Intermediate Period, and Isis’s case perhaps indicated the initialization of a newly politicized concept of the office.203 In the Twenty-​first Dynasty, with the degradation of the prestige of kingship, the importance of the title of God’s Wife of Amun seemed overshadowed by that of “The Great One of the khener” (i.e., the head of the musical troupe of Amun), which became the most prominent title of the wives of the High Priests of Amun. In the eighth century bc, as various kings laid claim to power, the office of the God’s Wife of Amun was revived, and eventually overshadowed the office of the High Priest of Amun, which in the previous centuries had proved demonstrably problematic for kings. The God’s Wives of Amun of the later Third Intermediate Period played an important role in bridging, legitimizing, and, most importantly, stabilizing the political transitions between the rapidly changing hands of power. In the early eighth century bc, Osorkon III had appointed his daughter, Shepenwepet I, as the God’s Wife of Amun in an effort to secure his hold over Thebes. After his conquest of Egypt, Kashta’s daughter, Amenirdis I, became Shepenwepet I’s heir. Amenirdis I was the longest holder of the office of God’s Wife of Amun and adopted Shepenwepet II, her niece and daughter of Piankhy, as her successor. Shepenwepet II, in turn, adopted Amenirdis II, the daughter of Taharqo, as her heir. Psamtek I, the first king of the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty, celebrated his daughter Nitocris’s adoption as heir to the office with a donation of land and riches (­chapter 49 in volume 5).

202. Ayad 2009a: 4–​6; the general title “God’s Wife” without association to Amun is attested already in the Middle Kingdom. 203. Ayad 2009a: 9, 15.

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By virtue of their births, these women were placed in trusted roles in the religious and political government of Egypt. It is likely that they were not viewed as threats, since Egyptian tradition dictated that the ruler should ideally be a male king. Nonetheless, the God’s Wives of Amun did not simply fulfill ceremonial roles; they were also recognized as royal authorities. Their importance is seen by their titulary, modeled after the traditional fivefold royal titulary, with names written in cartouches,204 the presentation of Maat,205 and the building of monuments in which they appear alongside the reigning kings. In addition to constructing their mortuary complexes at Medinet Habu, the God’s Wives of Amun oversaw and are featured in construction projects around Karnak. On the walls of the small chapel at Karnak dedicated to Osiris, Ruler of Eternity, Shepenwepet I appears as the main officiant, accompanied by Osorkon III and Takelot III. Subsequently, Shepenwepet II was responsible for the building of additional chapels for Osiris-​Wennefer-​in-​the-​Persea-​Tree, Osiris-​Lord-​of-​Life, and Osiris-​ Who-​Gives-​Life.206 In the relief scenes on these chapels, the God’s Wives of Amun further reinforced their royal status and importance. On the walls of the chapel of Osiris-​Ruler-​of-​Eternity, Shepenwepet I is depicted suckling from a goddess, while crowned and holding a flagellum in her hand (figure 35.6). Suckling scenes are usually associated with kings (e.g., Sheshonq I on the Bubastite Portal), and are connected with rites of coronation. In funerary contexts, the king is resurrected through the life-​giving divine milk.207 Subsequently, Amenirdis I also incorporated the same themes into her visual repertoire, both borrowing legitimacy and canonizing the iconography of power for the God’s Wives of Amun. Moreover, Amenirdis

204. Ayad 2009a: 29–​30. For example, Shepenwepet’s prenomen “United in the Heart of Amun” seems to deliberately evoke the epithet “United with Amun” of the Eighteenth Dynasty regent Hatshepsut (­chapter 26 in volume 3), which was used regularly in scenes in which she appeared as king. 205. Teeter 1997: 13–​17, 113–​115. 206. Leclant 1965: 47–​54, 357–​361. 207. Ayad 2009b: 34–​36.

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Figure 35.6.  The Godws Wife of Amun Shepenwepet I, suckled by the goddess. Detail of the relief decoration of the chapel of Osiris, Ruler-​of-​Eternity, at Karnak. Photo by Karen Radner (April 2009).

is depicted in the chapel of Osiris-​Ruler-​of-​Eternity as receiving life from Amun and symbols of the sed-​festival from Mut. The visual program of the chapel of Osiris-​Ruler-​of-​Eternity served as a material statement of the power and authority of the office of the God’s Wife of Amun.208

208. Ayad 2009b: 48–​49.

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The conditions that nurtured the elevation of women in the religious hierarchy were already present during the late Ramesside Period (­chapter 27 in volume 3).209 During the early years of the wehem mesut era, the Chantress of Amun, Henuttawy, appears to have played a significant administrative role. In a series of correspondence from the period, Henuttawy assumed responsibility over the receiving and distribution of grain on behalf of a number of Theban organizations.210 In one letter, it appears that Henuttawy and the Necropolis Scribe Nesamenemope (presumably her husband) worked as partners and that Henuttawy oversaw Nesamenemope’s responsibilities when he was absent from Thebes.211 Similarly, the Chantress of Amun, Mutemope, appeared to also be an administrator alongside Nesamenemope. Furthermore, Nesamenemope instructed Mutemope to oversee the distribution of land.212 Women became increasingly important in the political structure in the Twenty-​first Dynasty. At the beginning of the journey related in the “Account of Wenamun,” Tanis is specified as “[the place where Smendes] and Tanetamun were,” and Wenamun’s dispatch was given to both, and both declared their support for his mission.213 It thus appears that Smendes and Tanetamun were considered co-​rulers. In Thebes, the wives of the High Priests of Amun similarly shared their husbands’ power. The two wives of Pinudjem I had numerous priestly titles, including “Prophetess of Mut,” “Prophetess of Khonsu,” “Prophetess of Khonsu in Karnak,” and “Prophetess of Osiris, Horus and Isis in Abydos.”214 Within the cult of Amun, the wives of the High Priests of Amun also held the title of “The Great One of the khener,” i.e., head of the musical troupe of Amun, as noted earlier: this meant that they had authority over the entire female personnel of the temple 209. Sweeney 1994: 209. 210. Wente 1967: 42 (no. 37); Gardiner 1941: 22–​37. 211. Gardiner 1941: 26. 212. Wente 1967: 70–​71 (no. 36). 213. Account of Wenamun: 1.4−6; see Ritner 2009: 92. 214. Swart 2008: 208.

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of Amun. Moreover, their administrative duties may have extended also to temple duties such as the transcription of sacred texts. Leonard Lesko suggested that the female members of the family of Pinudjem II, High Priest of Amun, were involved in the composition and transcription of their funerary papyri.215 From the beginning of the Third Intermediate Period into the tenth century bc, there was an exponential increase in the number of women holding the title of “Chantress of Amun” (semayt en Imen). During this period, over 250 women are attested as holders of the title, and they came from all levels of elite society.216 Outside of Thebes, a group of steles dated to the Third Intermediate Period at Abydos shows similar patterns of identity display and professional independence. These steles are exceptional, as they were united by the common professional title of “chantress” (or “singer”) that appears in the steles. The majority of the devotees held the title of a “chantress” of a specific deity. Of the corpus, only five have the title of “Lady of the House,” conventionally understood as indicating married status, while the others included only their religious/​professional titles.217 By the Libyan period, the appearance of women as sole worshippers on steles became ubiquitous, prompting scholars to suggest that this practice reflected the increased power of women under Libyan rule.218 In the latter half of the Third Intermediate Period, the number of women holding the title of “chantress” decreased, and it appears that a new rank of female religious personnel, the “Singers in the Residence of the Temple of Amun” (hesyt en khenu en per-​Imen), came to assume more importance in the cult of Amun. These women appear to have been vital personnel who assisted in the vast bureaucracy of the office of the God’s Wives of Amun that was overseen by the Great Stewards of the God’s Wife of Amun.219

215. Lesko 1994: 182–​184. 216. Onstine 2005: 25–​31. 217. Li 2021: 59. 218. Aston 1987: 650, Leahy 1989: 47; Jansen-​Winkeln 1994: 92–​94. 219. Graefe 1981.

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The “Singers in the Residence of the Temple of Amun” were members of the most prominent families in Thebes. For example, the singer Diesehebsed was the sister of Montuemhat, the Fourth Prophet of Amun and, more importantly, the mayor of Thebes in the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty. Diesehebsed also appears in a relief block found at Medinet Habu,220 assisting the God’s Wife of Amun, Amenirdis II, and on the walls of the chapel of Osiris-​Wennefer-​in-​the-​Persea-​Tree, she is depicted behind Shepenwepet II, who is offering wine to the God.221 This sort of imagery is part of the common repertoire of male officials depicting their official status and performing their professional duties. Other indications of the special status of the singers are evident in their burials. In contrast to the widespread practice of family caches, a large percentage of these women were buried in individual tombs within the sacred precinct of Medinet Habu, in the vicinity of the funerary complexes of the God’s Wives of Amun.222 In the cemetery, the singers had their own tombs, and were equipped with higher-​quality funerary objects, such as sixteen stone shabti figurines in the burial of Diesehebsed, which were found in the burials of kings of the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty and other high Kushite officials of Thebes.223 Other singers were buried with alabaster canopic jars, lapis lazuli heart scarabs, and faience shabtis inscribed with spells from the Book of the Dead, rather than the more pedestrian forms with only the inclusion of the name and title of the deceased.224 In addition to the tombs of the singers in the vicinity of the mortuary complexes of God’s Wives of Amun, some singers were also interred beneath the floors of chapels and rooms within the mortuary temples proper of Rameses III (1181–​1150 bc). While the use of temple precincts as cemeteries was common practice in the Third Intermediate Period, the appropriation of sacred temple spaces was rare, and at

220. Oriental Institute Museum, Chicago, inventory no. OIM 14681. 221. Teeter 1995: 195–​203; Teeter and Johnson 2009: 26, figs. 15 and 16. 222. Li 2011: passim. 223. Aston 1987: 505; Li 2017: 156. 224. Li 2017: 156.

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Medinet Habu, limited to the “Singers in the Residence of the Temple of Amun.” In these instances, the identifiable singers also appeared to have been “King’s Daughters.”225 In the Third Intermediate Period, there was an increase in women holding professional titles and roles, especially in the religious sphere. The reduction in the prestige of kingship and the rising prominence of female cult personnel are also correlated with an expansion and increase of temples and cults of child-​and mother-​divinities, such as Horus-​the-​ Child, Khonsu, and the goddess Mut. Although women may appear to have played little role in Egyptian history, they were important threads in the sociopolitical fabric of Egyptian cultural and political ideology.

35.5. Conclusions The changes and developments in politics, religion, funerary beliefs, and other cultural products in the Third Intermediate Period were the results of interconnected, mutually impactful social, cultural, economic, and political factors. The deep political instabilities that characterized the period, first the bifurcation of ruling power in the Twenty-​first Dynasty and then the increased diffusion of centralized power during the Libyan period and the subsequent hegemony of Kushite Kings, undoubtedly created deep-​seated anxieties in the people of Egypt. The political instability was both a result of, and cause of, continued economic fragility, resulting in the looting of the Valley of the Kings, and the cessation of tomb building, state projects, and international trade for most of the Third Intermediate Period. The continued fragmentation and instabilities then resulted in increased regionalism with reliance on local deities and leaders, and provided opportunities for previously marginalized groups, such as Libyans and Kushites, to take power. Furthermore, alternative modes of power allowed women to participate more fully in the shaping of their own society. During the course of the Third Intermediate Period, there was an increased focus on child and

225. Li 2017: 34, 67–​69.

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mother divinities, including the Apis bull and the mother of the Apis. Perhaps, socio-​psychologically speaking, the rise in mammisiac tendencies in religion may have also been a social response to instability and insecurity—​a desire to return to the security offered by the mother. This kind of desire for security and stability may also have been the underlying factor in an increased focus on the past, exhibited in extensive inscriptions detailing genealogies and lineages—​for some to retrieve an Egyptian identity, others to maintain a Libyan identity, and others, such as women, to lend legitimacy to their newly emphasized social roles. The history of the Third Intermediate Period is complex, imperfectly understood, and subject to continued revision. Ongoing chronological debates highlight the dynamic sociopolitical complexities of the period, and at this point it seems as if a definitive chronology may never be achieved. Instead, the discussion of cultural production of this period paints a picture of a rapidly changing society in which previously rarely visible groups—​namely foreigners and women—​contributed to the shaping of culture and identity. The character of the distinctive cultural practices of the period is one of dynamic innovation and concrete tradition held together in tension. Such tension can be seen as evocative of the Egyptian worldview itself, that is, the drive toward an equilibrium of opposing forces. While Egyptian cultural practices—​of kingship, of preparation for the afterlife, and of identity preservation through inscriptions—​and the associated material culture preserved their base forms, they transformed, and were themselves transformed by, various societal spheres. Just as the New Kingdom had laid the foundations for the Third Intermediate Period, the political, social, and cultural changes of the Third Intermediate Period shaped the subsequent history of Egypt. R ef er en c es Adderley, N. 2015. Personal religion in the Libyan period in Egypt. Saarbrücken: Scholars’ Press. Agut-​Labordère, D. 2011. Le sage et l’insense: la composition et transmission des sagesses démoniques. Paris: Champion. Arnold, D. 1999. Temples of the last pharaohs. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Aston, D. 1989. Takelot II: king of the Theban “Twenty-​third Dynasty”? JEA 75: 139–​153. Aston, D. 2003. The Theban West Bank from the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty to the Ptolemaic period. In Strudwick, N., and Taylor, J. (eds.), The Theban necropolis: past, present and future. London: British Museum Press, 138–​166. Aston, D. 2007. Memphis in the Third Intermediate Period. In Aston, D., and Jeffreys, D., The survey of Memphis, III: excavations at Kom Rabia (site RAT): post-​R amesside levels and pottery. London: Egypt Exploration Society, 61–​90. Aston, D. 2009a. Burial assemblages of Dynasties 21–​ 25: chronology—​ typology—​developments. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Aston, D. 2009b. Takelot II: a king of the i.e., Herakleopolitan/​Theban Twenty-​third Dynasty revisited: the chronology of Dynasties 22 and 23. In Broekman, G.P.F., Demarée, R.J., and Kapers, O.E. (eds.), The Libyan period in Egypt: historical and cultural studies into the 21st–​24th Dynasties. Leuven: Peeters, 1–​28. Aston, D. 2020. The Third Intermediate Period. In Shaw, I., and Bloxam, E. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of Egyptology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 684–​719. Ayad, M.F. 2009a. God’s wife, god’s servant: the God’s Wife of Amun (c. 740–​525 BC). London and New York: Routledge. Ayad, M.F. 2009b. The role of the God’s Wife of Amun. In Broekman, G.P.F., Demarée, R.J., and Kapers, O.E. (eds.), The Libyan period in Egypt: historical and cultural studies into the 21st–​24th Dynasties. Leuven: Peeters, 29–​49. Bader, B. 2021. Material culture and identities in Egyptology: towards a better understanding of cultural encounters and their influence on material culture. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Bakr, M.I. 2008. A new treasure from Zagazig: preliminary report on an important discovery at Bubastis. In Hawass, Z.A., Daoud, K.A., and Abd El-​Fattah, S. (eds.), The realm of the pharaohs: essays in honor of Tohfa Handoussa, vol. 1. Cairo: Conseil Suprême des Antiquités de l’Ég ypte, 79–​96. Bakr, M.I., and Brandl, H. 2010. Precious metal hoards from Bubastis. In Bakr, M.I., Brandl, H., and Kalloniatis, F. (eds.), Egyptian antiquities from Kufur Nigm and Bubastis. Berlin: Opaion, 43–​54.

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Lichtheim, M. 1976. Ancient Egyptian literature, vol. II: the New Kingdom. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Lichtheim, M. 1980. Ancient Egyptian literature, vol. III: the Late Period. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Loth, M. 2014. Tanis: “Thebes of the north.” In Bakr, M.I., Brandl, H., and Kalloniatis, F. (eds.), Egyptian antiquities from the eastern delta. Berlin: Opaion, 35–​47. Lucarelli, R. 2009. Popular beliefs in demons in the Libyan period: the evidence of the oracular amuletic decrees. In Broekman, G.P.F., Demarée, R.J., and Kapers, O.E. (eds.), The Libyan period in Egypt: historical and cultural studies into the 21st–​24th Dynasties. Leuven: Peeters, 231–​239. Malinine, M., Posener, G., and Vercoutter, J. 1968. Catalogue des stèles du Sérapéum de Memphis, vol. 1: textes et planches. Paris: Editions des Musées Nationaux. Marchand, S. 2017. Remarques sur les moules à pains et les plaques de cuisson dans l’Égypte ancienne. Bulletin de Liaison de la Céramique Égyptienne 27: 223–​250. Meeks, D. 1979. Les donations aux temples dans l’Égypte du premier millénaire avant J.-​C. In Lipiński, E. (ed.), State and temple economy in the ancient Near East. Leuven: Peeters, 605–​687. Mendoza, B. 2006. Everlasting servants of the gods: bronze priests of ancient Egypt from the Middle Kingdom to the Graeco-​Roman period. PhD thesis, University of California, Berkeley. Montet, P. 1933. Les nouvelles fouilles de Tanis (1929–​1932). Paris: Les belles lettres. Montet, P. 1945. La nécropole royale de Tanis d’après les découvertes récentes. CRAIBL 89: 504–​517. Montet, P. 1952. Les énigmes de Tanis. Paris: Payot. Mosher, M.J. 1992. Theban and Memphite Book of the Dead traditions in the Late Period. JARCE 29: 143–​172. Muhs, B. 2009. Oracular property decrees in their historical and chronological context. In Broekman, G.P.F., Demarée, R.J., and Kapers, O.E. (eds.), The Libyan period in Egypt: historical and cultural studies into the 21st–​ 24th Dynasties. Leuven: Peeters, 265–​275. Munro, P. 1973. Die spätägyptischen Totenstelen. Glückstadt: Augustin. Myśliwiec, K. 1988. Royal portraiture of the Dynasties XXI–​XXX. Mainz: Zabern.

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Niwiński, A. 1989. Studies on the illustrated Theban funerary papyri of the 11th and 10th centuries BCE. Fribourg: Academic Press /​Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Novotny, J., and Jeffers, J. 2018. The royal inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668−631 BC), Aššur-​etel-​ilāni (630−627 BC), and Sîn-​šarra-​iškun (626−612 BC), kings of Assyria, part 1. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Onstine, S.L. 2005. The role of the chantress (šm‘yt) in ancient Egypt. Oxford: Archaeopress. Parker, R.A., Leclant, J., and Goyon, J.-​C. 1979. The edifice of Taharqa by the sacred lake of Karnak. Providence, RI: Brown University. Payraudeau, F. 2009. Un linteau de Sheshonq III à Bubastis et les origines de la XXIIe dynastie. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 109: 397–​406. Payraudeau, F. 2020. L’Égypte et la vallée du Nil, vol. 3: les époques tardives (1069–​332 av. J.-​C.). Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Quibell, J.E. 1896. The Ramesseum and the tomb of Ptah-​ Hetep. London: Quaritch. Radner, K. 2008. Esarhaddon’s expedition from Palestine to Egypt in 671 BCE: a trek through Negev and Sinai. In Bonatz, D., Czichon, R., and Kreppner, F.J. (eds.), Fundstellen: gesammelte Schriften zur Archäologie und Geschichte Altvorderasiens ad honorem Hartmut Kühne. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 305–​314. Radner, K. 2018. The “Lost Tribes of Israel” in the context of the resettlement programme of the Assyrian Empire. In Hasegawa, S., Levin, C., and Radner, K. (eds.), The last days of the kingdom of Israel. Berlin: De Gruyter, 101–​123. Raven, M.J. 1978–​ 1979. Papyrus sheaths and Ptah-​ Sokar-​ Osiris statues. Oudheidkundige Mededelingen uit het Rijksmuseum van Oudheden te Leiden 59–​60: 251–​296. Redmount, C.A. 2007. El-​Hibeh: an overview. In Hawass, Z., and Richards, J. (eds.), The art and archaeology of ancient Egypt: studies in honor of David O’Connor, vol. II. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 303–​311. Redmount, C.A. 2013. El-​Hiba. In Bagnall, R.S., Brodersen, K., Champion, C.B., Erskine, A., and Huebner, S.R. (eds.), The encyclopedia of ancient history. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 2373–​2374. Reeves, N. 2000. Ancient Egypt—​the great discoveries: a year-​by-​year chronicle. London: Thames & Hudson.

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Reeves, N., and Wilkinson, R. 1996. The complete Valley of the Kings. London: Thames & Hudson. Ritner, R. 2009. The Libyan Anarchy: inscriptions from Egypt’s Third Intermediate Period. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Robins, G. 1997. The art of ancient Egypt. London: British Museum Press. Russmann, E.R. 1974. The representation of the king in the XXVth Dynasty. Brussels: Fondation Égyptologique Reine Élisabeth. Russmann, E.R. 1994. Relief decoration in the tomb of Mentuemhat (TT 34). JARCE 31: 1–​19. Russmann, E.R. 1997. Mentuemhat’s Kushite wife: further remarks on the decoration of the tomb of Mentuemhat, 2. JARCE 34: 21–​39. Saleh, H. 2007. Investigating ethnic and gender identities as expressed on wooden funerary stelae from the Libyan period (c. 1069–​715 BCE) in Egypt. Oxford: Archaeopress. Schiaparelli, E. 1923–​1927. Relazione sui lavori della missione archeologica italiana in Egitto (anni 1903–​1920), vol. 1: esplorazione della valle delle regine. Turin: Chiantore. Schipper, B.U. 2005. Die Erzählung des Wenamun: ein Literaturwerk im Spannungsfeld von Politik, Geschichte und Religion. Fribourg: Academic Press /​Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Shaw, I. 2003. Exploring ancient Egypt. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Swart, L. 2007. The transition from the 21st to 22nd Dynasty in Thebes, Egypt, as manifested in changes in wooden funerary stelae of the 22nd Dynasty. Journal of Semitic Studies 16: 518–​538. Swart, L. 2008. Observations on the status of women in the 21st and 22nd Dynasty, Thebes, Egypt. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 35: 207–​216. Sweeney, D. 1994. Henuttawy’s guilty conscience: gods and grain in Late Ramesside Letter no. 37. JEA 80: 208–​212. Tait, J. 1992. Demotic literature and Egyptian society. In Johnson, J. (ed.), Life in a multi-​cultural society: Egypt from Cambyses to Constantine and beyond. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 303–​310. Taylor, J.H. 2001. Death and the afterlife in ancient Egypt. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Taylor, J.H. 2003. Theban coffins from the Twenty-​ second to Twenty-​ sixth Dynasty: dating and synthesis of development. In Strudwick,

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N., and Taylor, J. (eds.), The Theban necropolis: past, present and future. London: British Museum Press, 95–​121. Teeter, E. 1997. The presentation of Maat: ritual and legitimacy in ancient Egypt. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Teeter, E., and Johnson, J. (eds.) 2009. The life of Meresamun, a temple singer in ancient Egypt. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Török, L. 1997. The kingdom of Kush: handbook of the Napatan-​Meroitic civilization. Leiden: Brill. Török, L. 1999. The origin of the Napatan state: the long chronology of the el-​Kurru cemetery. Meroitica 15: 149–​159. Vittmann, G. 2013. Personal names: structures and patterns. In Wendrich, W., et al. (eds.), UCLA encyclopedia of Egyptology. Los Angeles: UCLA, 1–​13. Retrieved from http://​digit​al2.libr​ary.ucla.edu/​viewI​tem.do?ark=​21198/​ zz0​02dw​qsr (last accessed October 10, 2021). Vleeming, S.P. 1981. La phase initiale du démotique ancien. Chronique d’Égypte 56: 31–​48. Wente, E. 1967. Late Ramesside letters. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Wilfong, T. 2013. The oracular amuletic decrees: a question of length. JEA 99: 295–​300. Wodzińska, A. 2010. A manual of Egyptian pottery, vol. 3: Second Intermediate Period—​Late Period. Boston, MA: Ancient Egypt Research Associates. Wodzińska, A. 2019. Tell el-​Retaba 2017: pottery in context. ÄL 29: 89–​104.

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Kush under the Dynasty of Napata Geoff Emberling

36.1. Introduction Kush had one of the earliest, longest-​lived, and most extensive empires in Africa.1 First appearing in the historical record just after 2000 bc along the Middle Nile river south of Egypt in what is now northern Sudan (­chapter 25 in volume 3), Kushites persisted through conquest by the Egyptian New Kingdom (in Nubia, ca. 1500–​1069 bc), and regained political authority from about 850 bc until the final collapse of their empire after ad 350. During this long history, Kush had contacts to the south, west, and east within Africa2 that remain poorly defined, and was a neighbor, trade partner, and adversary of Egypt. Kush had occasional contact with the broader eastern Mediterranean and Middle East, particularly after its conquest of Egypt (and ruled there as Egypt’s Twenty-​fifth Dynasty) beginning in about 750 bc and ending with its defeat by the Assyrian army in 664 bc. Because of their supremacy over Egypt, and the resultant

1. Thanks are due to Charles Bonnet, Nadine Moeller, Claude Rilly, Bruce Williams, and also Ruby Emberling for reading, commenting, and/​or discussing issues raised in this chapter, and to Angelika Lohwasser for providing access to some literature. 2. Lohwasser 2014. Geoff Emberling, Kush under the Dynasty of Napata In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0036

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contact with cultures of the Mediterranean and Middle East, Kushite rulers are named in classical sources as well as in the Bible. Kush is also important as an early African empire whose importance has been overshadowed by ancient Egypt, and also by the long history of racism in scholarship (some of it overt, more of it structural) that has complicated research.3 Much of the work of archaeologists and historians in recent years has been to re-​center narratives to understand and recount the history of Kush from the perspective of Kush, rather than the perspective of Egypt. This has turned out to be a challenging project, but progress continues to be made. Apart from its impact on the broader region, Kush is interesting in comparative archaeology as a society that differed significantly in its organization from the agrarian and largely urban states and empires of ancient Egypt, the Middle East, and the classical world. Mobility played a significant role in ancient Kush, both because the royal court moved among the major centers with some regularity and because herding cattle was important symbolically and economically. According to the “Sudanic state” model proposed by David Edwards, political authority and wealth appear to have derived less from ownership of agricultural land and more from alliances with and control over people—​a feature of many states and empires in inner Africa.4 This unusual organization has led many scholars to use the term “kingdom” to refer to Kush, rather than more clearly defined terms like “state” or “empire.” I argue, however, that Kush was an empire, in the sense of being territorially extensive and in control of (at times at least) a variety of other cultures.5 The later history of Kush is conventionally divided into phases based on the location of royal burials—​the Napatan period (ca. 850–​270 bc), when they were in the region of Napata (modern Gebel Barkal), and the Meroitic period (ca. 270 bc–​ad 350), when they were relocated southeast to Meroe. These phases are conventional, and as discussed below, the

3. Näser 2021. 4. Edwards 1998; S. McIntosh 1999; cf. Fuller 2003; Török 2008. 5. Sinopoli 2001: 444.

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historical situation is not as clear as proposed by this simple dichotomy. Nevertheless, the phases raise different interpretive issues, and in keeping with the chronological focus of this volume, this chapter focuses on the Napatan period. The culture discussed here has often been termed “Nubia,” but this is anachronistic.6 The ancient indigenous name for the dominant polity in the Middle Nile was Kush, and that name is used here. “Nubia” remains a useful term for the broader geographical area that encompassed a number of cultural groups. The language of Kush was not Nubian, but Meroitic, a poorly known East Sudanic language.7 The language is named for the Meroitic script, invented in the Meroitic period (270 bc–​ad 350), but recent work has traced evidence in names that it was spoken in the early second millennium bc, and typological considerations suggest it has a longer history in the region. This distinction between Kush and Nubia has become politically charged in recent years with modern Nubian speakers living in northern Sudan and southern Egypt asserting that they are the descendants of the ancient rulers of the Middle Nile and that to use the term “Kush” is to deny them their own heritage. However, close reading of historical texts, as well as linguistic classification, suggests that the ancient Noba (from whose name “Nubia”—​land of the Noba—​was created) were in fact late arrivals in the Nile valley and existed on the margins of Kush.8 This chapter aims to summarize the current state of our archaeological and historical knowledge of Napatan Kush (­figure 36.1 a–​c) through the lens of comparative research on ancient states and empires that looks more broadly at political structure and process than at individuals and events. Across centuries of research, a great deal of data about Kush has been accumulated, interpreted, and reinterpreted. Yet this comparative review suggests how much research perspectives have skewed

6. The term “Nubia” was not widely used before the medieval period, see Seignobos 2014. 7. Rilly 2019. 8. Rilly 2008; cf. Valbelle 2018.

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what we know (and what we do not know) about this major ancient African power.

36.2. Environment Between the confluence of the Blue Nile and the White Nile in modern Khartoum and the traditional boundary of ancient Egypt at Aswan, the middle portion of the Nile river is divided by cataracts—​stretches of river

Figure 36.1a.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 36, with the names of archaeological sites in regular type and of modern places in italics. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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Figure 36.1b.  Detail map A.

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Figure 36.1c.  Detail map B.

in which volcanic outcrops of granite and basalt have created islands and rapids that can make navigation difficult. Conventionally numbered in the nineteenth century from north to south, there are six canonical cataracts, although some of these extend for up to 150 km along the river, and there are also other minor cataracts in between. The heartland of Kush during the Napatan period was located along the longest fertile stretch of the Middle Nile river, known as the Dongola Reach, extending from the Fourth Cataract to the Third Cataract, a distance of about 350 km. The term “Napata” referred both to the city at the foot of the “pure mountain” Gebel Barkal (figure 36.2) and to the wider region that was the heartland of ancient Kush, also encompassing royal burial sites at el-​Kurru and Nuri, the economic center at Sanam, and smaller sites. The deserts were not as much of a barrier to movement as might be assumed—​there were routes across the desert on either side of the Nile. To the west of the Nile, one route followed a Nile tributary sometimes known as the “Yellow Nile” that led from the Dongola Reach into what is now Darfur. The tributary dried up, seemingly by the end of the second millennium bc,9 but the route persisted along the bed of the river—​now known as the Wadi Howar—​as water would have remained 9. M. Williams 2019: 213–​217.

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Figure 36.2.  Gebel Barkal from the south, with the pinnacle at the right. The temple complex is located at the base of the mountain to the right. Napatan pyramids are visible at the left, with steeper Meroitic pyramids in the background at the left. Panoramic photo by Gregory Tucker, 2018.

relatively close to the surface and wells could sustain travelers. In addition, a string of oases to the west of the Nile would have facilitated movement through the desert from Darfur into Egypt. To the southeast of Napata, a long-​standing route through the Bayuda Desert followed the bed of the Wadi Abu Dom and its abundant wells, ultimately leading to the region of Meroe.10 To the northwest, a route known as the Meheila Road is said to have connected Napata with Kawa, although it has been little explored by archaeologists. And a long route, the Korosko Road, traversed the Nubian desert to the north, connecting the upstream end of the Fourth Cataract at modern Abu Hamed with Korosko in northern Nubia.11 The changing climate of Kush during the Napatan period is only beginning to be understood.12 Climate in Nubia depends partly on the path of the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) across northern Africa and partly on the Indian Ocean summer monsoon (ISM) that generates rain on the east African highlands and produces the annual flood of the Nile. The desert margin clearly moved southward during the course of the second millennium bc. Savanna species like giraffe and 10. Karberg and Lohwasser 2019. 11. Davies and Welsby 2020. 12. Macklin et al. 2015; M. Williams 2021. Most other work on climate in Nubia has focused on earlier periods.

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ostrich were represented in fauna and iconography of the city of Kerma during the Kerma period (1750–​1500 bc).13 Today, the areas on either side of the Dongola Reach are deserts that are part of the Sahara belt: the Nubian Desert to the north (part of a region known more broadly as the Eastern Desert), the Bayuda Desert to the south, and the Libyan Desert to the west. The timing and geographical extent of aridification may have impacted the development of Napatan Kush, but it has not yet been documented in detail.

36.3.  History of research The earliest European knowledge of Napatan Kush came from the Bible and from classical sources.14 The physical remains of Napatan Kush were first documented by Europeans traveling in Sudan during and after the 1820–​1821 campaign of Mohammed Ali, Khedive of Egypt, to annex Sudan.15 The earliest systematic scholarly documentation was the Prussian expedition of Richard Lepsius in 1842–​1845, and the first publication of Napatan royal inscriptions was by Auguste Mariette in 1865.16 After the British conquest of Sudan in 1897, small-​scale excavations were carried out at Gebel Barkal in 1897 and 1906.17 These early studies were largely descriptive, but were also motivated by an interest in connections to Egypt, the Bible, and to classical Antiquity, including discussions of the locations of Napata and especially Meroe, the capital cities of Kush mentioned in

13. For recent summaries, see Bonnet 2019 and ­chapter 25 in volume 3. 14. For Kush in the Bible, see Burrell 2020. Classical authors mentioning Kush (called “Aithiopia”) include Homer, Herodotus, Pliny the Elder, Strabo, Diodorus, and Cassius Dio. 15. Monumental architecture of the Napatan period, primarily at Gebel Barkal and Nuri, was documented in 1821–​1822 by Linant de Bellefonds (1958: 43–​53; n.d.), by Waddington and Hanbury (1822), by Cailliaud (1823–​1827: text vol. 3: 197–​ 227 and atlas vol. 2), and Hoskins (1835). 16. Lepsius 1849–​1856; 1853; 1913; Mariette 1865. 17. Excavations were carried out by Wallis Budge in 1897 (Budge 1907: I 129–​176), and James Henry Breasted in 1906 (Oriental Institute 1975; Larson 2006: 64–​81).

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classical sources.18 The early accounts remain extremely valuable today, however, as many of the monuments suffered damage from various sources during the course of the nineteenth century. Two early excavations touched on Napatan Kush, but in ways that required significant later research and revision. John Garstang’s large-​ scale excavation at Meroe in 1909–​1914 recovered some evidence of Napatan occupation, but the poor quality of the excavation and recording have made it difficult to understand architecture, stratigraphy, or settlement history in the areas he cleared.19 The roughly contemporary (and also large-​scale) excavation at Gebel Moya, in between the Blue and White Niles, was directed by Henry Wellcome in 1910–​14. It remains the only major excavation of this period in Sudan south of Khartoum, and it demonstrates connections to Kush.20 In a higher-​quality excavation, also before the First World War, a team from Oxford University, led by the Egyptologist and scholar of Meroitic language Francis Llewellyn Griffith, worked at Sanam. They excavated what is still the largest cemetery of Napatan Kush, a temple to the god Amun, and a sizeable settlement area, of which they primarily investigated a single large structure known as the “Treasury.”21 The defining early contributions to our knowledge of Napatan Kush, however, were the excavations of George Reisner at Gebel Barkal, el-​ Kurru, and Nuri in 1916–​1920 and at Meroe in 1921–​1924 on behalf of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, and Harvard University. These

18. The figure of the Kushite king Taharqo, who appears in the Bible as Tirhaka was also of particular interest (Hoskins 1835: 138). Meroe had been correctly located by James Bruce during his search for the source of the Nile in 1772, although it took some time before his identification was accepted. 19. Garstang et al. 1911 is based on the first season of excavations, but he also published interim reports in the Liverpool Annals of Archaeology and Anthropology volumes from 1910 to 1916; see Török 1997b; Hinkel and Sievertsen 2002. 20. Addison 1949; reinterpreted by Brass 2016, with new excavations reported in Brass et al. 2018. 21. Griffith 1922; 1923; reanalysis of the cemetery by Lohwasser 2010; 2012. On the continuing excavation of the Treasury and the settlement more broadly, see Vincentelli 2011; 2018a; 2018b; see also Tucker et al. 2019.

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excavations aimed primarily to establish the sequence of kings of Kush by excavating all the accessible royal burials, and were published in preliminary form by Reisner himself, along with a historical summary and a synthesis of monumental inscriptions from Gebel Barkal written by Reisner with his daughter Mary.22 The scope and quality of Reisner’s excavations were unmatched in the early archaeology of Nubia, and the sequence of kings he proposed is largely unchanged, with a significant recent alteration in regnal order (Shabataqo and Shabaqo) discussed below (section 36.7). He was not uniformly successful, however—​his excavation of the royal palace at Gebel Barkal, which was a mudbrick structure with complex stratigraphy, did not clarify the sequence of constructions or the plan of the palace itself.23 Reisner’s understanding of ancient Kush was, as is generally acknowledged, distorted by racist assumptions, only some of which can be excused as being widely held at the time. In particular for the Kushite dynasty, Reisner excluded the possibility that they could have been of local origin, preferring to see them as descended from Libyan chiefs;24 this is a view not followed by his contemporaries or scholars since. The next major contribution to archaeology of Napatan Kush was the British excavation at Kawa (ancient Gempaaten), site of one of the major Amun temples of Kush, as well as an earlier Egyptian settlement.25 Excavations from 1929 into the 1930s recovered highly important monumental texts of Napatan kings, complementing those found by Reisner, and together allowed reconstruction of the royal families of Napatan Kush.

22. G.A. Reisner 1917; 1918a; 1918b; 1919; 1920a; 1920b; 1923a; 1923b; 1931; M.B. Reisner 1934. The excavations were published in more detail by Dows Dunham, one of Reisner’s field assistants who was later curator at the Museum of Fine Arts; the volumes concerned with Napatan period remains are Dunham 1950; 1955; 1963; 1970. 23. Kendall 1997; Kendall and Wolf 2007. 24. Reisner 1919: 50, 56, 67. For a more recent discussion, see Morkot 2003b: 156–​159. 25. Macadam 1949; 1955.

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It is worth pausing here to highlight the fact that early excavations of the Napatan period, like most early excavations in the Nile valley, had focused on royal burials, temples, and monumental texts. By the end of the early Kawa excavations in 1936, the majority of the historical texts that define Napatan Kush even today had been excavated, and the major structures had been defined, if not fully documented. Mid-​twentieth-​ century syntheses were based on these data.26 There were at this time a number of significant gaps in knowledge, even by comparison with what was known about other early cultures in the region, and these gaps are still evident today, over eighty years later. First, there were no settlement excavations that could provide information on local subsistence practices. We did not (and still do not) know what crops were grown in the heartland of Napata: the Middle Eastern complex of wheat, barley, and lentils, or the African complex of sorghum and millet, or both?27 The level of reliance on herded animals, particularly cattle, in comparison with wild fauna, including fish, as part of the diet was not known. There was no developed chronology of local Kushite ceramics,28 or of other artifacts, and dating was done exclusively through reliance on imported Egyptian goods. There was almost no knowledge of life outside the palace and temple. There were also regional gaps—​ nothing was known about potential Napatan settlement outside the Nile valley, and apart from Gebel Moya, nothing was known about Napatan contacts south of Khartoum. Finally, it should also be noted that we generally assume that Kush was ethnically homogeneous, even though the textual sources mention a number of other ethnic groups, regions, and polities, suggesting the existence of significant cultural diversity in the Middle Nile region during the Napatan period. The first archaeological survey of Nubia was conducted prior to the construction of the first Aswan Dam in 1907–​1912, with a second surveying campaign following in 1929–​1933. When the construction of the

26. Arkell 1961; Dixon 1964; Shinnie 1967. 27. Fuller and Lucas 2021. 28. Rose 2019.

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Aswan High Dam was planned during the 1960s, an area about 500 km in length, extending to the Second Cataract in northernmost Sudan, was expected to be flooded. The area was divided into archaeological concessions, resulting in surveys and salvage excavations in both Egypt and Sudan, as summarized in the magisterial work of William Y. Adams and by a landmark 1978 exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum.29 However, as the Napatan empire did not control northern Nubia for most of its history, the direct contributions of these salvage campaigns made less of a contribution to the understanding of Napatan Kush than for other periods. This work, however, launched two initiatives that have been significant for developing knowledge of Napatan Kush. First, a series of surveys of the Sudanese Nile valley was undertaken.30 While these surveys have worked with differing methods and varying levels of precision, they have succeeded in discovering some highly significant Napatan sites,31 which provide regional archaeological contexts for Napatan Kush.32 Second, the importance of museum exhibits for consolidating research and presenting it more widely was established.33

29. Adams 1977; Wenig et al. 1978; Hintze 1979. 30. From north to south: Vila 1975–​1985 extending to Sai Island (in 15 volumes); Grzymski 1987; Osman and Edwards 2012; Welsby 2001; Żurawski 2003; a survey of the northern Dongola Reach directed by Jacques Reinold has not yet been published. Surveys of the Fourth Cataract region immediately upstream of the Napatan heartland have been published by individual projects; see especially Welsby 2003; Paner and Borcowski 2005. A survey by the Sudanese National Corporation for Antiquities and Museums along the south (left) bank of the Southern Dongola Reach, funded by the Qatar-​Sudan Archaeological Project, was completed in 2018 and has not yet been published in detail. 31. In particular, the large Napatan cemetery at Missiminia (Vila 1980) and the Napatan temples of the Dongola Reach at Soniyat, Usli, and Hujair Gubli, identified by Żurawski 2003. 32. Particularly useful is Welsby 2001. 33. Subsequent exhibitions that generated, synthesized, and publicized new research on Napatan Kush included Kendall 1982; O’Connor 1993; Wildung 1997; Welsby and Anderson 2004.

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A new generation of field research projects began in Sudan in the late 1960s, gathering momentum in the following decades. A Swiss project led by Charles Maystre excavated a large Amun temple at Tabo near the Third Cataract.34 A project at Meroe directed by the Canadian archaeologist Peter Shinnie touched on the Napatan occupation at the site.35 Another Swiss project directed by Charles Bonnet began work at Kerma in the 1970s, and in the course of investigating the early capital of Kush, would uncover a number of Napatan burials.36 Salah el-​din Mohamed Ahmed also excavated a Napatan occupation at the nearby site of Dokki Gel, and Bonnet has continued to recover evidence of Napatan constructions and occupation at this site.37 In the 1980s and 1990s, new contributions to the knowledge of the Napatan period came from excavations at Gebel Barkal and Kawa in particular. Work at Barkal was begun by an Italian team, focusing on Meroitic structures at the site, but one of the members of that team, Irene Vincentelli, would continue to work at other sites in the area and has made important contributions through excavation of a cemetery at Hillat el-​Arab and more recently at the settlement of Sanam.38 Another team at Barkal, directed by Timothy Kendall, continued the focus on the monumental areas of the site, making significant improvements to understanding the Napatan temple and palace complex.39 In 1993, Derek Welsby began work at Kawa to excavate additional structures outside the temple area that formed parts of the Napatan

34. Maystre 1986; Bonnet et al. 2021: 44–​53. 35. Shinnie and Bradley 1980; later excavations by Shinnie into the 1980s recovered only Meroitic period remains. 36. See now Bonnet et al. 2021:124–​127. 37. Mohamed Ahmed 1992; Bonnet 2019: 167–​176; Bonnet et al. 2021. 38. Vincentelli 2006; 2011; 2018a; 2018b. 39. See particularly Kendall 1997; 2004; Kendall and El-​Hassan 2021; Kendall and Wolf 2007. Summary of insights into the temple area in Kendall and El-​ Hassan 2016.

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town.40 Key syntheses were written during these years by Welsby and Edwards.41 Construction of another dam, the Merowe Dam at the Fourth Cataract, resulted in international explorations of an area of the Nile valley that had previously been ignored by archaeologists; this work began in the late 1980s and intensified in the first decade of the twenty-​first century. Despite the fact that this region was close to the Napatan heartland, the salvage project produced modest but intriguing Napatan period results. These included a small stone pyramid (in addition to some other burials that possibly also date to the Napatan period), a seal impression of a Napatan queen found at a gold-​mining site, two occupation sites, and some so-​called Dome Graves, a regional burial tradition that may relate to a cultural group other than Kush.42 Funding from the Qatar-​Sudan Archaeological Project (QSAP) in 2014–​2019 supported archaeological research and tourism development at a number of sites in Sudan. Results of this work have not been published in detail, but investigations at Kawa, el-​Kurru, and Dangeil all produced results dating to the Napatan period.43 The survey and excavation in the Southern Dongola Reach44 and the work at Tombos45 have had the greatest impact of all the other recent fieldwork in Sudan relevant to the Napatan period. In addition to new excavations, a crucial series of detailed studies by the art historian László Török are a baseline for recent scholarly

40. For summaries of earlier work, see Welsby 2014; 2018. 41. Welsby 1996; Edwards 2004. 42. Pyramid: Sjöström 2010; seal impression of Queen Khensa: Emberling and Williams 2010; occupation sites: Wolf and Nowotnick 2005; Kołosowska and El-​Tayeb 2012; Dome Graves: Paner et al. 2010; now also found in the Bayuda region: Paner 2018: 298–​301. 43. Kawa: more recently, see Welsby 2018; el-​Kurru: Emberling et al. 2015; Dann and Emberling 2016; Dangeil: Anderson et al. 2017. 44. Żurawski 2003, 2018. 45. Buzon et al. 2016.

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perspectives on Napatan Kush,46 as is the corpus of royal inscriptions to which he contributed.47 New insights into the region of the Napatan heartland from analytical and synthetic studies continue to be published at a rapid rate.48

36.4.  Early Kush (ca. 2000–​1069 bc) As noted above, the term “Kush” was first used in Egyptian texts dating to just after 2000 bc to refer to a polity centered on the city known by its modern name of Kerma (­chapter 25 in volume 3). Kush was then a rising power in the Middle Nile region and a threat to Egypt. The Egyptian state built a line of fortresses to protect its northern Nubian holdings during the Middle Kingdom (ca. 2050–​1650 bc). Subsequently, during the establishment of the New Kingdom, Egyptian armies conquered Kush and burned its capital city at Kerma. They would occupy Kush for over 400 years (1500–​1069 bc).49 The Egyptian colonial occupation of Kush during the New Kingdom was imposed and maintained by a chain of fortified temple-​towns,50 which housed Egyptian garrisons and a small Egyptian administrative elite led by a governor (viceroy) whose Egyptian title was King’s Son of Kush. A significant aspect of the occupation was the introduction of the cult of the Egyptian god Amun throughout the occupied area.51 Egyptian officials built small, steep-​sided pyramids for their burials that became the model for later Napatan royal and elite pyramid burials.52 The occupation also relied on the collaboration of Nubian elites: local

46. To cite just the book-​length studies, Török 1997a; 1997b; 2002; 2009; 2015. 47. For the Napatan period: Eide et al. 1994; 1996. 48. Recently, see Pope 2014; Rilly 2017. 49. Valbelle 2021; Smith 2021. 50. Smith 2003; Morris 2005; 2018; and contributions to Spencer et al. 2017. 51. Gabolde 2021; Rocheleau 2008. 52. E.g., Steindorff 1935-​37; Säve-​Söderbergh and Troy 1991: 182–​211; Smith 2007.

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princes, some of whom are depicted in the tombs of Egyptian officials in Egypt as offering tribute,53 as well as Nubians who served more directly in the Egyptian administration. Rock-​cut tombs of some of these princes and officials have also been discovered in northern Nubia.54 While some scholars have suggested ways in which Nubian elites may have benefited from the Egyptian empire,55 and recent bioarchaeological studies have shown that at least some colonized communities were not malnourished,56 the Nubian response to Egyptian colonization was also characterized by regular rebellions. The King’s Son of Kush was responsible for maintaining control in Kush and sending tribute back to Egypt. As Egyptian control over Nubia began to collapse after 1100 bc, the King’s Son of Kush Panehsy (whose name means “the Nubian”) played a significant role.57 By this time, Egypt may already have lost control of the Dongola Reach, as the last evidence of significant construction in that area took place during the reign of Rameses II (1279–​1213 bc). In about 1087 bc, during the reign of Rameses XI, the High Priest of Amun in Thebes was removed from office. During the resulting period of revolt around Thebes, royal tombs were robbed, temples were stripped of precious metals, and Panehsy arrived with his own military force of Nubian soldiers. Rameses XI eventually appointed a different man to the position of King’s Son of Kush, but Panehsy did not relinquish the office. The death of Rameses XI in 1077 bc marks the end of the Twentieth Dynasty and of the New Kingdom in Egypt. It also marks the end of Egyptian imperial control in southern Nubia, although at least part of northern Nubia seems to

53. See particularly the tomb of the Egyptian Viceroy (King’s Son of Kush) Huy, which depicts Heqanefer, prince of Miam (modern Aniba): Smith 2021. 54. Simpson 1963; Säve-​Söderbergh and Troy 1991. 55. O’Connor 1993: 61–​65. 56. Whitmore et al. 2019. 57. This is a confusing episode with a number of sources that raise conflicting interpretations of the sequence of events, see Thijs 2003.

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have been administered by a series of viceroys into the mid-​eighth century bc.58 This episode is one of many that suggests that Nubians (and Kushites; the Egyptian texts do not usually distinguish them) retained powerful positions in the colonial system, and this is important for understanding the re-​emergence of political power in Kush in subsequent centuries. The continuities of Kushite culture through this period have been more difficult to trace, but appear in burial and ceramic traditions, at least.59

36.5.  Napatan Kush (1077–​270 bc) The Napatan period in Nubia can be defined as beginning with the end of Egyptian imperial control over Nubia in 1069 bc. It is named for the region of Napata, centered on the archaeological site at Gebel Barkal just downstream of the Fourth Cataract, which came to form the administrative and ritual center of Kush until the period when royal burials started to be located in Meroe, around 270 bc. The final period of Kushite hegemony is normally today termed the Meroitic period (ca. 270 bc –​ ad 350). There are no commonly used subdivisions for the Napatan period. I propose here a simple but historically useful division into Early, Middle, and Late Napatan that takes the Kushite conquest of and rule over Egypt as its dividing point. Thus, Early Napatan (ca. 1069–​800 bc) encompasses the coalescence of political authority in Napata, Middle Napatan (ca. 800–​664 bc) reflects the period of developing Kushite rule over Egypt, and Late Napatan (ca. 664–​270 bc) refers to the period after the loss of control over Egypt (during which Napata remained the focal point for royal burials). Like many designations of historical periods, these phases match historical records more precisely than they do changes in material culture. But since control over Egypt also led to the

58. Török 1997b: 108. 59. Welsby and Welsby Sjöstrom 2006–​2007.

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Kushite adoption of a wide range of Egyptian practices, the relationship between these phases and changes in material culture is closer than it might otherwise be. In this scheme, Early and Middle Napatan correspond to the Third Intermediate Period in Egypt.

36.6.  Early Napatan (1069–​800 bc) The centuries after the collapse of the Egyptian empire have widely been considered a “dark age” in Nubia.60 It is true that temple construction virtually ceased and that almost no written records were produced in Nubia from 1069 to 800 bc. However, new excavations and reconsideration of the available evidence over the past twenty-​five years have produced a much fuller archaeological record than previously known. Furthermore, they have begun to suggest many elements of continuities—​of settlement, political authority, cultural practices, and ceramic styles—​from the New Kingdom and even from the earlier Kerma period into the Early Napatan period. It has been difficult to conclusively document continuous occupation at settlement sites through this period, but sequences of burials in a number of sites show that at least some of the previously colonial communities continued to thrive. In what follows, I review the more recent excavations along with the long-​known (and much debated) evidence from the sequence of royal burials at el-​Kurru,61 and from the inscription of Queen Karimala.62 While significant differences of opinion about chronology and historical interpretations remain, the current state of evidence makes it impossible to conclude that Kush was abandoned during this time.

60. E.g., Adams 1977: 246–​247. 61. Excavated by G.A. Reisner in 1919; published in summary form by Dunham 1950; detailed reanalysis by Kendall 1999; critique by Török 1999; 2009: 298–​ 309; Morkot 2000: 139–​144; 2003b. 62. Her name is transcribed in a wide variety of ways including Katimala and Kadimalo; I follow Rilly 2017: 132. For recent studies, see Collombert 2003–​ 2008; Darnell 2006; Török 2009: 294–​298.

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36.6.1.  Burial sites Egyptian and Nubian burial traditions differed significantly. Nubian burials were traditionally flexed interments in simple pits under tumuli, and in the Kerma tradition often placed on burial beds. Egyptian burials were extended, in larger built or rock-​cut burial chambers, with higher-​ status burials placed under small mudbrick pyramids. As Stuart Tyson Smith and Michele Buzon have pointed out, these identities became entangled in the colonial environment of the New Kingdom, and individual burials often show both Nubian and Egyptian features, but the cultural references remain clearly distinct.63 El-​Kurru is a cemetery that has long defined the Early Napatan period (figure 36.3). Located 15 km downstream of Gebel Barkal, the site was excavated in 1919 by George Reisner,64 who found a sequence of burials leading up to the burial of Piankhy and other kings who ruled Egypt during the Middle Napatan period. Reisner organized the royal pyramid burials he was excavating at el-​Kurru, Gebel Barkal, Nuri, and Meroe into generations that included burials of a ruling king, queens, and sometimes non-​ruling royal children. Given the general lack of firm chronological markers, Reisner assigned an arbitrary twenty years to each generation, unless more specific information was available. Dows Dunham extended this system to the Early Napatan burials and proposed five generations (A–​E), dating from 860 to 760 bc.65 The Early Napatan sequence at el-​ Kurru is extremely revealing: it shows a development from traditional Nubian tumulus burials to burials that are increasingly Egyptian in form. The three earliest burials were in pits with side chambers, a form that had been used during the New Kingdom in Nubia.66 Bodies were oriented in parallel to the Nile. They were covered by burial mounds, referred to as tumuli although they were steep-​sided, stone-​lined mounds similar 63. E.g., Buzon et al. 2016. 64. Dunham 1950. 65. Dunham 1950: 2–​3. As Morkot 2000: 143 notes, the continuity of this widely repeated sequence is conjectural. 66. Spence 2019: 547–​551.

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Figure 36.3.  The royal cemetery at el-​Kurru from the northeast, with the Nile to the left. Early “tumulus” burials are to the right, and the pyramids of kings who ruled over Egypt as its Twenty-​fifth Dynasty are in front of and behind the long row of smaller pyramids. Pyramids of major queens are in the left background, with pyramids of minor queens and burials of horses not shown. The two largest pyramids are later than the rest (fourth century bc). Rendering by Nadejda Reshetnikova in consultation with Timothy Kendall, 2021.

to those of the C-​Group in northern Nubia, as at Aniba.67 Broken pots and faunal remains outside the tumuli are likely the remains of funerary meals. These early tumuli were all looted, but excavations nevertheless recovered material that suggested high status: gold and carnelian beads and rings, as well as ceremonial ivory and flaked stone arrowheads. An unusual small handmade jar from el-​Kurru Tumulus 1, as well as some imported Egyptian ceramics, have parallels at Debeira East, which was located just downstream of Semna at the Second Cataract, within the region known as Teh-​khet, governed by Nubian princes during the Egyptian occupation.68 67. Kendall 1999: 14. For Aniba, see Steindorff 1935–​1937. 68. Heidorn 1994: 120.

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Two burials from the next generation (el-​Kurru Tumulus 6 and el-​ Kurru XIX) had horseshoe-​shaped enclosure walls around a stone-​lined mound, one of which (el-​Kurru Tumulus 6) preserved two walls of a mudbrick chapel. The burial chamber of el-​Kurru XIX had preserved trenches that would have allowed the installation of a burial bed. Broken pots were also found outside these burials (as well as el-​Kurru Tumulus 2, perhaps contemporary), and a number of them were painted with funerary scenes in an Egyptian style, although without specific Egyptian parallels.69 We do not know the names of most of the rulers buried in the early tombs at el-​Kurru, but Tumulus 6 contained a faience plaque with the name Qomoloye, written in Egyptian hieroglyphs (but not in a cartouche); it may be the name of the ruler buried there.70 Generations C to E formed a row of burials with square superstructures (ca. 6.5–​8.5 m on a side), chapels, and enclosure walls all made of sandstone blocks. Reisner considered the superstructures to be simple platforms (mastabas), but they were almost certainly small pyramids, perhaps with a platform base,71 and Timothy Kendall identified a fragment of a possible ba-​bird statue that would have represented the spirit of the deceased.72 The importance of these early tombs at el-​Kurru is twofold. First, they are large and unusually wealthy burials in a location that would become the burial place of powerful kings of Kush during the Middle Napatan period. They thus appear to represent the establishment of the dynasty of Napata. Second, they show an increase in the use of Egyptian forms as a way of indicating status. Yet they have also been the focus of extensive debate (as discussed in section 36.7). An increasing number of other sites have produced evidence from this period. Debeira East Site 176 contained ninety-​seven burials with

69. Kendall 1999: 20–​22 proposes a parallel to the Egyptian ritual “Breaking of the Red Pots”; for a discussion, see Budka 2014. 70. Dunham 1950: 22, fig. 5d; reading in Rilly 2017: 117. 71. Kendall 1999: 4; Lacovara 2018. 72. Kendall 1999: 33.

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stone-​lined tumuli covering oval burial chambers. Many of the tumuli have offering niches, and the ceramics and amulets from the site suggest a date ranging from the Ramesside to the Middle Napatan period (ca. 1200–​664 bc).73 Further south, Amara West was a fortified town that served as an administrative center during the New Kingdom, being the residence of the deputy of Kush. Cemetery D outside the town was an elite cemetery, only partially excavated, that contained tombs in a variety of forms, including pyramid burials with underground burial chambers and tumulus burials with underground burial chambers lined with bricks, all used for multiple interments.74 Many of these tombs were reused in the Early Napatan period and some new tombs were constructed—​ceramics found in Cemetery D range in date from the Ramesside to Napatan period (1300–​700 bc). One hundred forty Napatan tombs were excavated at the nearby cemetery at Missiminia, on the east bank of the Nile across from the northern end of Sai Island, by André Vila in the 1970s.75 Analysis of the finds from the burials at Amara led Michaela Binder, Neal Spencer, and Anna Stevens to propose that the earliest tombs at Missiminia also date to the Early Napatan period.76 Tombos, located at the Third Cataract, was also a fortified settlement during the New Kingdom, with burials spanning from the New Kingdom into the Napatan period.77 Both traditional Egyptian and Nubian burial practices were preserved, including pyramids and tumuli, extended burials, and flexed burials on beds. One of the burials likely dating to the Early Napatan period included a horse.78

73. Säve-​Söderbergh 1989: 200–​205; note the comments by Kendall 1999: 17–​18, and more recently by Smith 2021: 374–​375. 74. Binder et al. 2011. 75. Vila 1980. 76. Binder et al. 2011. 77. Buzon et al. 2016; Smith and Buzon 2018; Smith 2021. 78. Schrader et al. 2018.

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The furthest outpost of Egyptian occupation during the New Kingdom had been a fortified settlement and Amun temple at Gebel Barkal, of which only the temple has been located. Two cemeteries at nearby sites (Hillat el-​Arab and Sanam) also span the period from the New Kingdom to Napatan. At Hillat el-​Arab, located 3 km south of Gebel Barkal, a series of large rock-​cut tombs with shafts and multiple side-​chambers were constructed during the New Kingdom, and later rock-​cut tombs were built with staircases leading to one or two underground chambers.79 All the tombs contained multiple burials, some spanning generations, and some spanning centuries. Wall paintings in Tomb 1 include a boat carrying humans either seated under an enclosure or standing. Several tombs include horse burials. Across the river from Gebel Barkal and 6 km downstream is the settlement and cemetery at Sanam, which contains some 1,500 burials. Known primarily for its Middle Napatan occupation, recent reanalysis of the cemetery suggested that the earliest burials are late New Kingdom and Early Napatan in date.80 The dating of these cemeteries is based on tomb form and Egyptian imports (mainly ceramics), with a few radiometric dates. We do not yet have a clear sequence of Nubian pottery that spans this period, although progress is being made.81 Recent work has also identified ceramic assemblages and burial practices in the Middle Nile region that date to the Early Napatan period but may belong to cultural traditions other than that of Kush. In the Fourth Cataract and in the Bayuda Desert to the south, a characteristic burial tradition of so-​called Dome Graves has been radiocarbon-​dated to 1500 to 800 bc.82 These burials have mostly been found in the Fourth Cataract region and now in the Bayuda Desert to the south.83 A survey

79. Vincentelli 2006. 80. Lohwasser 2010: 91–​92. 81. Heidorn 1994; Rose 2019. 82. Paner et al. 2010. 83. Paner 2018.

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of the Southern Dongola Reach has identified a “Proto-​Kushite” ceramic assemblage that dates to the late New Kingdom and Early Napatan period.84 This is in an area (the “Debba Bend”) that was never controlled by Egypt, and Bogdan Żurawski suggests that these sites may represent a local polity, perhaps Irem, which was noted in New Kingdom Egyptian texts as resisting Egyptian conquest.85

36.6.2.  Settlements and fortresses In addition to burial sites that show continuity from the New Kingdom into the Early Napatan, some fortresses appear to have been constructed and occupied during the Early Napatan period.86 Of these, the best documented are Dorginarti, just downstream of the Second Cataract, and Gala Abu Ahmed, located in the Wadi Howar some 110 km southwest of the Debba Bend of the Nile. Dorginarti is a settlement with massive fortification walls and a size of about a hectare, situated on an island in the Nile.87 The settlement includes some small houses and one much larger building which is spatially separated from the other houses, with granaries contained within its enclosure. The fortress at Gala Abu Ahmed enclosed an area closer to two hectares in size that included some smaller structures but mostly consisted of open space.88 Two other fortresses, at Gebel Sahaba89 and Qasr Ibrim in northern Nubia, also appear to date to this period.90 Given the wide and irregular spacing of these fortresses, they are likely to have been locally constructed, rather than the products

84. Żurawski 2003: 525. 85. Żurawski 2003: 524. For Irem, see O’Connor 1987; Cooper 2020: 383. 86. Summarized in Jesse 2019. 87. Heidorn 2013; new dating proposed by B.B. Williams 2021. 88. Jesse 2019. 89. Jesse 2019. 90. Rose 2008.

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of a centralized administrative structure for which there is otherwise little evidence. Of the ten Egyptian New Kingdom sites where Amun temples were located,91 none shows clear evidence of continuing occupation, construction, or renovation during the Early Napatan period. One partial exception may be the Amun temple at Gebel Barkal: Kendall has suggested that a small chapel may have been built inside that sanctuary by the Egyptian High Priest of Amun in Thebes during the Twenty-​first Dynasty (ca. 1000 bc).92 At other sites, such as Kawa, arguments have been made for the presence of settlements during this period, but few Early Napatan materials have been clearly defined so far.93 Throughout this period, as for most periods of Kushite history, we can expect that there was abundant movement of people between Egypt and Kush; the border was conceptual and ideological more than it was a barrier to movement. There are relatively few specific references to Kushites in Egypt during the Third Intermediate Period. Egyptian rulers based in the Delta during the Twenty-​second Dynasty campaigned against Jerusalem during the tenth–​ninth centuries bc. Sheshonq I (943–​922 bc; called Shishak in the Bible, see c­ hapter 48 in this volume) employed Kushite mercenaries in his army,94 and a Kushite general named Zerah, perhaps serving Sheshonq’s successor Osorkon I (922–​887 bc), led an army of Kushites against Jerusalem and was defeated by Asa of Judah (­chapter 35 in this volume).95 We can also expect that trade in some form continued between Egypt and Nubia during the Early Napatan period, although specific evidence is primarily in the form of Egyptian ceramics found in Kushite burials.

91. Rocheleau 2008. The sites are Amada, Qasr Ibrim, Aksha, Amara West, Sai Island, Soleb, Sesebi, Dokki Gel, Kawa, and Gebel Barkal. 92. Kendall and El-​Hassan 2017: 186–​188. 93. Welsby 2017. 94. 2 Chr 12:3. 95. 2 Chr 14:9–​15; see Kitchen 1973: 295–​296; Burrell 2020.

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As noted above, there is little evidence of formal monumental inscriptions or temple construction in Nubia during this period, for over three centuries (1069–​750 bc). However, a lengthy text added as a graffito on a temple at Semna in northern Nubia and dating to this period records the rule of Queen Karimala, protected by the goddess Isis, and her attentiveness to the god Amun and to Amun’s herds of cattle.96 Karimala was also the daughter of a king and the great wife of another king, both unnamed, but she appears to have been part of a succession of local rulers. She summoned thirty chiefs to a council, suggesting she held some level of regional authority around the Second Cataract. An inscription of a king Ary from Kawa may also date to this period.97

36.6.3. Discussion The assessment of the Early Napatan period has been contentious, in large part because the available remains are fragmentary and difficult to interpret. The discussions have focused on three major questions: first, the chronology of the period, particularly the burials at el-​Kurru; second, the reasons that Egyptian cultural symbols were adopted in Kush; and finally, the interpretation of the political structure of Kush during the Early Napatan period. The chronological question is the simplest, but is still unresolved. In a careful restudy of the material from el-​Kurru, Kendall essentially supported Reisner’s chronology, which dates the earliest burials at el-​Kurru to about 850 bc.98 Kendall, following Reisner, interpreted the burials as representing generations of ruling kings with their queens buried beside them. Some ceramic and faience vessels in the tombs clearly date to the New Kingdom, but Kendall interpreted these objects as heirlooms in the

96. The inscription and accompanying scene were carved on a façade of a temple to the god Dedwen at Semna that was originally built by the Egyptian queen Hatshepsut; Darnell 2006. For a thorough discussion of the dating and interpretive issues, see Török 2009: 294–​298. 97. B.B. Williams 2021; cf. Török 2009: 293. 98. Kendall 1999: 45.

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tombs at el-​Kurru,99 leaving a gap of over two centuries after the end of the New Kingdom Egyptian occupation of Kush. More recently, Török, in what he terms a “long chronology,” suggested that a simpler explanation would be that the majority of the “heirlooms” were actually buried close to their date of manufacture and that the burials are all those of kings.100 He thus dated the earliest burials much closer to the end of the New Kingdom, to 995 bc.101 Nevertheless, it has not been possible to resolve this discrepancy of nearly 150 years in the chronology with the data at hand. The tomb sequence at el-​Kurru shows increasing use of Egyptian objects, construction techniques, symbols, and rituals in the Early Napatan period, as Kendall has documented. He follows James Henry Breasted in suggesting that Egyptian priests fleeing conflict in Thebes during the ninth century bc may have cultivated relationships with local Kushite rulers, and suggests that these priests introduced these Egyptian practices to Kush.102 More recently, this interpretation has been criticized as part of the long tradition of interpreting Kush in an essentially diffusionist manner that does not allow for any Kushite agency in deciding which practices to adopt.103 One could criticize the notion of “Egyptianization” in the same sense, as a process imposed on Kushites over which they had no control, in the same manner that classicists have criticized the idea of “Romanization” to describe cultural change in the Roman Empire.104 There are many other ways that elements of Egyptian culture could have been adopted in Kush. Kushites who had served as priests or administrators either in Egypt itself or in colonial Nubia could have maintained such knowledge. Perhaps the local elite at el-​Kurru, who were clearly in 99. Heidorn 1994. 100. Török 1999; 2009: 298–​309. 101. Török 2009: 304. 102. Breasted 1905: 538. 103. Morkot 2003b. 104. See, among many others, Mattingly 2011.

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trade contact with Egypt, may have captured or hired Egyptian priests to serve them in Kush. Regardless of which model we propose, we cannot continue to perpetuate the notion that Kushites did not exercise control over this process, particularly at a time when Egyptian political authority was fragmented. The adoption of Egyptian practices became significantly more pronounced with the Kushite conquest and rule over Egypt in the Middle Napatan period (see ­chapter 35 in this volume); this was a time when Kushites would certainly have exercised even greater control over their use of Egyptian symbols. Finally, it remains to consider, however tentatively, the political structure of Nubia during the Early Napatan period. It is now clear that this was not a “dark age.” Rather, we have evidence of the construction and occupation of fortresses and of the use of burial places, many of them in Nubian cemeteries first used under New Kingdom domination. Török has interpreted the evidence as reflecting continuity with earlier, pre–​New Kingdom local political units, with relatively little to suggest some form of regional political control or significantly elevated wealth or social rank.105 Williams has more recently considered the possibility that some of these smaller units may have been integrated under the authority of figures like Karimala.106 We are not yet in a position to fully evaluate either of these models, but we can hope that the continuing analysis of material from older excavations, along with new discoveries, will provide additional evidence for understanding the postcolonial history of Kush from the eleventh–​eighth centuries bc.107

36.7.  Middle Napatan (800–​650 bc) Middle Napatan is by far the best-​known phase of the Napatan period, as it encompasses the Kushite conquest of Egypt and subsequent rule

105. Török 2009: 291–​292. 106. B.B. Williams 2021: 417–​418. 107. As an example, see Emberling and Elamin 2021.

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as its Twenty-​fifth Dynasty.108 The first written texts of Kushite rulers, written in Egyptian language and Egyptian script, date to this period, and Kushite rulers deployed wealth and expertise from Egypt to build impressive pyramid tombs, to expand, renovate, and build temples, and to build a new royal palace. As defined here, the Middle Napatan phase began with the first named ancestor of the dynasty of Napata, Alara, who would have ruled around 800 bc. No contemporary inscriptions of this king are known, but his name is enclosed in a royal cartouche on the funerary stele of his daughter, Queen Tabiry, wife of Piankhy, and he is named as an ancestor by his successors (namely, Taharqo, Amannote-​erike, and Harsiyotef ) in the Middle and Late Napatan periods. One of those inscriptions recounts that he installed one of his sisters (not identified by name) as priestess in the temple of Amun at Kawa, suggesting that he may have held broader regional authority. He may have initiated work on a temple at Gebel Barkal (B 800), located next to the large Amun temple at the site.109 Alara may have been buried at el-​Kurru, although there is no inscription to identify his tomb. Alara was succeeded by his brother Kashta (755–​743 bc),110 a king whose name means “the Kushite,” who was the first ruler of Kush to extend control into Egypt. By about 760 bc, Kashta had enough authority in Upper Egypt to adopt an Egyptian throne name and erect a donation stele at Elephantine.111 Kashta likely exerted even greater control over Upper Egypt than his stele in Elephantine suggests. He arranged for his sister Amenirdis I to be appointed as the successor to the God’s Wife of Amun in Thebes

108. The most detailed historical narrative is Morkot 2000; see also Török 2009. A more recent treatment is Rilly 2017. 109. Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016: 110. 110. For the transliteration of Kushite royal names used in this chapter, see Rilly 2017: 120–​121. For the regnal dates of the Kushite rulers in Egypt, see Payraudeau 2020: 557. 111. Eide et al. 1994: 42–​47.

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(see ­chapter 35 in this volume).112 One of Kashta’s wives, Queen Pabatma (who was the mother of Amenirdis I), was buried at Abydos in Egypt, although the precise date of her burial is uncertain. Abydos was a center of the cult of Osiris, a focus of pilgrimage, and a prestigious burial place. A number of other elite Kushites were buried there during the Kushite occupation of Egypt.113 A recent reanalysis by Angelika Lohwasser of the Sandstone Stele previously attributed to Piankhy suggests that it was in fact written by one of Piankhy’s predecessors: perhaps Alara, perhaps Kashta, or perhaps an unknown ruler.114 This analysis suggests that Kush in the early Middle Napatan phase was a segmentary state—​a weak central authority coordinating (rather than controlling) a number of local groups. The term “segmentary state,” originally derived from ethnographic work by Aidan Southall in Uganda,115 has been both applied and critiqued as an adequate description of Kushite political organization, and indeed has been criticized more broadly in comparative archaeology.116 Kashta initiated construction of a new royal palace at Gebel Barkal.117 His authority in Egypt apparently did not extend to bringing scribes back to Kush, and there is no tomb at el-​Kurru that bears his name. Reisner and Dunham, however, followed by Kendall,118 have suggested that a somewhat larger and more substantial pyramid (el-​Kurru Tumulus 8) may have been his, in part because the burial was rotated 90 degrees to

112. On God’s Wives of Amun, see Ayad 2009; Becker et al. 2016; Lohwasser 2016. 113. Wenig 1990; Leahy 1994; 2014. 114. Lohwasser and Sörgel 2020: 107. 115. Southall 1956; 1999. 116. Applied to the Meroitic period: Edwards 1998; Fuller 2003; applied to the Napatan period: Howley 2015b. For a critique of the concept, see Marcus and Feinman 1998: 7–​8; for a critique on its application for Nubia, see Török 2008; and see the discussion in Pope 2014: 285–​291. 117. Kendall 1997. 118. Kendall 1999: 34–​37.

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conform to Egyptian burial orientation and because the burial chamber was made of carved stone blocks, as the later tombs at el-​Kurru were. Kashta’s son and successor Piankhy (743–​ 713 bc)119 conquered Egypt as far as Memphis, defeating a series of local Egyptian rulers. His Victory Stele is a remarkable text.120 Carved in Egyptian hieroglyphs and installed in the Amun Temple (B 500) at Gebel Barkal (and now in the Egyptian Museum, Cairo), it presents Piankhy as “beloved of Amun” in justification for the Kushite conquest and control of Egypt.121 The text describes the campaign in detail, and mentions, among many other things, Piankhy’s dismay at the way the local Egyptian ruler Nimlot treated his horses, and the fact that fish-​eaters were considered unclean and unfit to enter the royal residence. Piankhy did not reside in Egypt but returned to Napata. Having access to Egyptian artisans, architects, and scribes, he transformed the Napatan heartland through construction in his capital city and prepared more elaborate royal burials for himself and for his queens at el-​Kurru. At Gebel Barkal, Piankhy significantly renovated and expanded the temple of Amun, completing a large hypostyle hall that had been left unfinished during the Egyptian occupation and adding a large forecourt, which would have contained the stele with the text describing his victory, and which was also decorated with reliefs depicting his conquest of Egypt.122 He also refaced the outer wall of the temple, built a new throne room and throne base, and transported at least six ram statues made for a New Kingdom temple at Soleb, over 400 km downstream, to line the entrance to the temple at Gebel Barkal. He may also have transported two lions as guardian figures for his palace at Barkal. The lions, now in the British Museum and known as the Prudhoe Lions, have only an inscription of the Meroitic period king Amanislo, but were originally made for the temple at Soleb for Amenhotep III. Piankhy’s construction

119. His name is the Meroitic word for “chief ”, see Rilly 2017: 133. 120. Eide et al. 1994: 62–​118. 121. Török 2002: 368–​395. 122. Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016.

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activities expanded the temple from just over 50 m to 156 m in length. He also built another smaller temple at the site (B 900). Despite all this construction, we have no surviving representations of Piankhy himself. Across the river and 5 km downstream of Gebel Barkal, Piankhy established, or at least expanded, the settlement at Sanam. This site, first excavated in 1912–​1913 by Griffith,123 and in more recent times by Irene Vincentelli,124 comprises a settlement area of about 45 hectares and a nearby cemetery to the south, containing some 1,500 burials.125 A more recently discovered cemetery about 1 km to the north of the site at el-​ Tameer contained higher-​status Napatan-​period burials.126 As noted above, the earliest of the burials in the Sanam cemetery date to the late New Kingdom, but continued into the Middle Napatan period. The settlement at Sanam seems to have been devoted to royally sponsored economic activity, including production, trade, and perhaps taxation. The early excavations discovered a remarkable, 267-​m-​long structure that was termed the “Treasury.” It consisted of a central pillared passageway with rooms measuring about 14 × 21 m. The rooms had mudbrick walls lined with sandstone slabs, floors made of sandstone slabs, and also had columns to create porticos. The “Treasury” had been burned at some point but was found largely empty. The exceptions included one room containing elephant tusks, a scattering of pottery (mainly Egyptian amphorae but also some Phoenician vessels), beads, and amulets, and clay jar sealings with impressions of royal seals, the earliest of which was of Piankhy.127 Later excavation of a nearby building (dubbed SA.K 300) suggested that it was a workshop and storeroom for the palace. It contained abundant evidence for the working of carnelian, elephant tusks, beads and amulets of gold and silver, numerous ceramic vessels (mainly Egyptian amphorae), and clay sealings, mostly for doors, with

123. Griffith 1922; 1923. 124. Vincentelli 2011; 2018a; 2018b. 125. Griffith 1923; Lohwasser 2010; 2012. 126. Mohamed 2018. 127. Griffith 1922; Vincentelli 2011.

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kings’ names that extended into the Late Napatan period. Craft production in this area may have supported royal trade, as suggested by David Edwards,128 or may have provided goods for royal burials, as suggested by Lohwasser.129 A more recent magnetic gradiometry survey at Sanam showed a number of other structures surrounded by large walled courtyards, but did not identify any clearly residential areas, although they must have existed in some form in the area, given the size of the cemetery.130 At el-​Kurru, Piankhy constructed a burial significantly more elaborate than any of his predecessors.131 The superstructure itself was a sandstone pyramid only slightly larger than earlier burial superstructures at the site, measuring 8 m on each side. The burial chamber was not a pit, but was accessed by stairs, roofed with a corbelled vault of sandstone blocks, and contained a sandstone bench for a coffin, with corners cut out to accommodate the legs of a burial bed. The burial chamber had been extensively looted in antiquity, but contained a wealth of objects that were part of traditional Egyptian burial practice: canopic jars and lids, protective amulets, and funerary servant figures (so-​called shabtis) made of faience. A large gilded bronze stand found outside the burial chamber may have been used as part of a funerary ritual meal. Canopic jars were used in Egypt to hold organs removed during the mummification process, but the jars in Piankhy’s tomb were solid—​symbolic rather than functional. There was no other evidence that Piankhy had been mummified, and indeed there is no conclusive evidence for full mummification in Kush.132 In addition to the burial of Piankhy himself, new burial areas were established at el-​Kurru. Downstream, across a small wadi, was an area for royal queens which included the burial of at least one of Piankhy’s

128. Edwards 2020: 368. 129. Lohwasser 2020: 113–​115. 130. Tucker et al. 2019. 131. el-​Kurru 17: Dunham 1950: 64–​66. 132. Lohwasser and Kendall 2019: 634.

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known “sister-​wives,” Queen Khensa.133 Her burial was more elaborate: deeper, cut entirely into the rock without the need for a built (vaulted) roof, and comprising two burial chambers. Khensa’s tomb had also been looted, but contained a bronze offering tray with lion handles and a group of silver vessels that were likely used in a ritual involving drinking milk, likely symbolically the milk of the goddess Mut.134 The burial also contained a range of Egyptian objects: offering tables in granite and alabaster with Egyptian hieroglyphic inscriptions, a number of fine alabaster jars, over 200 faience shabti figures, two mummy eyes, and a canopic jar that had been filled solid with hard plaster (and was therefore again symbolic rather than functional). A seal impression of Queen Khensa herself was found at Hosh el-​ Geruf, a gold-​mining site in the Fourth Cataract region, perhaps suggesting that queens had economic roles in their own right.135 A stone pyramid in the Fourth Cataract region also contained material dating to the Napatan period.136 Across another small wadi at el-​Kurru was a group of five burials of queens, three of whom were identified as wives of Piankhy. These burials were mostly simple pits cut into the rock, one with two steps down to a second chamber. The burial chambers all had burial benches with cut-​outs for bed legs. Almost nothing survived of the superstructures of these tombs. Despite the simplicity of the burial chambers, the tombs for Piankhy’s queens contained some of the most finely made objects from el-​Kurru. They included elaborate faience plaques, figurines, and amulets,137 as well as two faience bowls depicting processions of bulls, miniature bronze and faience canopic jars, mummy eyes, and hundreds of faience shabti figures. Where the faience plaques were originally

133. el-​Kurru 4: Dunham 1950: 30–​37. 134. Kendall 1982: 26–​27. 135. Emberling and Williams 2010. 136. Sjöström 2010. 137. Markowitz and Doxey 2014.

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Figure 36.4.  Faience pectoral depicting a nude, full-​figured winged goddess from el-​Kurru tomb 52 (a minor queen of Piankhy), ca. 715 bc. Photograph © 2022 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (MFA 24.639).

manufactured has not been identified or extensively discussed, although local faience production has been documented at Sanam.138 While these artifacts are generally made in Egyptian style with Egyptian deities and other iconography, some of the female figures in particular are

138. Griffith 1922: 85, 90; Howley 2020: 125.

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represented in Kushite proportions, with large breasts, hips, and thighs (figure 36.4).139 One burial (el-​Kurru 53) contained a heart scarab and a granite stele naming Queen Tabiry, daughter of Alara and wife of Piankhy. Another tomb (el-​Kurru 55) contained several exquisite pendants or amulets, including a small gold head of the goddess Hathor mounted on a small rock crystal bead, and a silver ram’s head mounted on a rock crystal. These objects are particularly interesting as they appear to be Egyptian, but the use of roughly shaped rock crystal as an element in pendants was unusual in Egypt itself. Once again, this suggests that artisans responded to local preferences. Continuing the Kushite connection to the Egyptian site of Abydos, Pekereslo, the “Great Royal Wife” of Piankhy, had her tomb there.140 Finally, some 200 m upstream of the burial of Piankhy was a separate burial area that was created for the king’s horses. A row of four burials were carefully carved out of sandstone bedrock with four holes for legs and higher areas to support the belly and neck of each horse. Other rows contained objects with names of later kings, and the first row was interpreted as having been made for the burial of Piankhy’s horses. Fragmentary remains of faience and gold jewelry suggest that the horses were elaborately decorated (figure 36.5). The horses themselves were quite large, suggesting that they were either cavalry horses or horses for heavy chariots.141 This burial practice is otherwise unknown in the Nile valley, and its significance in relation to general burial practices is unclear. Horses were clearly important in early Napatan Kush. Piankhy was not the only king who was interested in horses (as reported in his Victory Stele and on the walls of his expanded Amun Temple at Gebel Barkal); texts from Kalhu (modern Nimrud), the then-​capital of the Assyrian Empire, mention both Kushite horses and Kushites employed

139. Markowitz and Doxey 2014: 117. 140. The queen’s name was formerly read Peksater, see Wenig 1990. 141. Bökönyi 1993; Näser and Mazzetti 2020.

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Figure 36.5.  Reconstruction of a Kushite royal horse, based in part on reliefs of Piankhy in the Amun Temple (B 500) at Gebel Barkal and the decorations found in horse burials at el-​Kurru. Drawing by Eric Campbell (Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, University of Michigan) in consultation with Shannon Ness.

by the palace, likely as horse-​trainers, in the later eighth century bc. Such attestations are also known from Assyrian texts of the seventh century bc.142 142. Dalley 1985; Heidorn 1997. See also ­chapter 40 in this volume.

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It is not entirely clear why the sequence of burials leading to Piankhy and his successors was located at el-​Kurru. During Reisner’s excavation of the site in 1919, he identified and partially documented five structures apart from the tombs themselves, but did not publish them. Kendall quite reasonably suggested,143 based on Reisner’s notes, that a town wall, gate and large rock-​cut well reached by a staircase cut into the rock were evidence of a royal city near the site, but more recent work at the site itself has shown that these remains date to the medieval period, and failed to find any evidence of Napatan occupation.144 If there was no major settlement at el-​Kurru, neither is the location particularly favored by proximity to routes crossing the deserts on either side of the Nile, nor by extensive agricultural land or mineral resources relative to neighboring areas. These considerations suggest that it is unlikely that the dynasty was founded in this location by outsiders, whether from Libya, as Reisner had suggested,145 or from Meroe.146 Rather, it is likely to represent the increasing political authority of a local family, perhaps (but not necessarily) one that had been important during the period of Egyptian rule over the area. The relationship between the growing wealth and authority of the family buried at el-​Kurru and the region of Meroe is important for understanding the regional extent of Middle Napatan contacts and political control, although the evidence remains fragmentary for this period. It is clear that a number of the early burials at Meroe, in the West and South Cemeteries, were contemporary with Kashta, Piankhy, and the Middle Napatan period.147 No superstructures were preserved, and the burials themselves were in rectangular pits (later with niches on one end). Török’s analysis of these early burials distinguishes a Nubian type

143. Kendall 1999: 48–​49. 144. Dann and Emberling 2016: 40–​46. 145. G.A. Reisner 1919. 146. Welsby 1996: 15. 147. There is even more fragmentary evidence of earlier settlement and burial, see Török 1997b: 15–​16.

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(flexed burials on beds) and a more Egyptianized style (extended burials in coffins).148 Both burial types contained abundant amulets of Egyptian gods, and their inscriptions included cartouches of Kashta and Piankhy. Unlike at el-​Kurru, however, there are no burials that are clearly marked as belonging to higher-​status individuals. Török makes the interesting suggestion that the burials of Piankhy’s minor queens at el-​Kurru, which are burials in rectangular pits, may indicate that these queens were from the Meroe region.149 Certainly dynastic intermarriage would likely have been part of the mechanism by which Napata and Meroe came to be part of the Kushite empire. From the earliest excavation at Meroe, it was recognized that iron-​ working was an important industry at the site, as large mounds of iron slag cover significant portions of the site. Recent excavation and analysis of these slag heaps suggests that iron production began in the eighth century bc and significantly expanded during the Middle and Late Napatan periods.150 Relatively few iron implements or weapons have been found in Kush from Napatan contexts, but an iron spearhead and points were found in a vaulted chamber tomb at Tombos, dated to the early seventh century bc or later.151 Shabaqo, Shabataqo, and Taharqo,152 the three kings who succeeded Piankhy, were recognized by the Egyptian priest Manetho, who codified the dynasties of Egyptian history in the third century bc, as the kings who ruled over Egypt as its Twenty-​fifth Dynasty, perhaps because they were the kings of Kush who resided in the Egyptian capital at Memphis. However, all three were buried in their homeland in the region of Napata.

148. Török 1997b: 16–​18. 149. Török 1997b: 20. 150. Carey et al. 2019: 444. 151. Smith 2007: 11. 152. These names are transliterated in a variety of forms: e.g., Shabataqo is also known as Shabitqo, Shebitqo, or Shebitqu, while Shabaqo is also known as Shabaka or Shabako.

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The order of succession of Shabaqo and Shabataqo given by Manetho, and largely supported by scholars since then, has recently been questioned, and it now appears that Shabataqo may have succeeded Piankhy as king of Kush and Egypt.153 Their family relationships are being reassessed, but it has been proposed that Shabataqo was Piankhy’s son and that Shabaqo was Shabataqo’s son.154 In either case, their reigns together extended for around twenty-​five years, from about 715 to 690 bc. This change in the order of royal succession also requires a revision to our ideas about succession in Napatan Kush. It is clear that the succession was not simply patrilineal, as it appears that kingship could pass to a brother in some cases. In other cases, it seems that royal women exerted significant authority over succession (as stated in some of the Napatan royal inscriptions). Debates about the principles involved have not settled the matter, and the newly established sequence of rulers will also necessitate revisiting the discussion.155 During this time, Shabataqo and Shabaqo began to reign as rulers of an empire, residing in a royal palace in Memphis, about which we know almost nothing, and installing a thin layer of ruling officials, mostly members of the royal family, in the religious center of Thebes.156 One remnant of the rule of these kings in Memphis is the so-​called Shabaqo Stone, acquired in Egypt in 1805 and now in the British Museum.157 The hieroglyphic inscription on this square stone block, later reused as a millstone, is known as the Memphite Theology of Creation. The text

153. After the discovery of a new Assyrian inscription of Sargon II that mentioned interaction with Kush, this argument has been advanced by a number of scholars including Michael Bányai, Frédéric Payraudeau, Gerard Broekman, and Claus Jurman. Most recently, see Broekman 2017 and Jurman 2017 (with references). 154. Broekman 2017. 155. Broekman 2017. 156. Vittmann 2007; Naunton 2011; Budka 2021. 157. British Museum EA 498; see El-​Hawary 2010 and note the entry in the collection database: https://​www.britis​hmus​eum.org/​col​lect​ion/​obj​ect/​Y_​EA​498 (last accessed August 23, 2021).

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is a “pious forgery” that claims to record the text from a “worm-​eaten papyrus,” but it also invokes the name of Shabaqo as it presents the god of Memphis, Ptah, as being the god who created the world. It represents an attempt by the Kushite rulers to ally themselves with the priests of the temple of Ptah in Memphis. In Thebes, Horemakhet, one of Shabaqo’s sons, was appointed High Priest of Amun. His sister was appointed as God’s Wife of Amun, assuming that role as Shepenwepet II. As the God’s Wife became increasingly influential over the ritual practices and administration in Thebes, the new position of Steward of the God’s Wives was created and several Kushites were also appointed to that office.158 The primary conquest during the reigns of these kings appears to have been Shabaqo’s establishment of control over the Nile delta, in the process of which (according to Manetho) the Delta ruler Bakenrenef was burned alive.159 None of them sponsored additional construction at Gebel Barkal, and they constructed only modest shrines in Thebes.160 There are relatively few sculptural representations of Shabataqo or Shabaqo and none from Kush.161 While under their rule, Kush established diplomatic contact with the Assyrian Empire, which had been expanding its control in a series of campaigns along the eastern Mediterranean coast under kings Tiglath-​ pileser III (744–​727 bc), Sargon II (721–​705 bc), and Sennacherib (704–​681 bc).162 As noted above in this section, during the earlier years of this contact, there was trade in Kushite horses with Assyria, but also conflicts with Kushites took place during the reign of Sargon II.163 The Kushites returned the rebellious local king Yamani, king of Ashdod in

158. Naunton 2014. 159. Morkot 2000: 206. 160. Leclant 1965; Coulon et al. 2018. 161. Russmann 1974. 162. Morkot 2000: 208–​217. 163. Zamazalóva 2011; Franklin 2018: 681; note that her assumption of co-​regencies among the Napatan rulers is not widely accepted, see Kahn 2006.

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Philistia, to Sargon as a gesture of goodwill.164 However, in 701 bc, during the reign of Shabaqo (according to the revised order of succession), the Assyrian army under Sennacherib campaigned in the area around Jerusalem. After an initial battle at Eltekeh (south of Jaffa) in which the Kushite and Egyptian army, led by Taharqo,165 was forced to retreat, the Assyrian army besieged Jerusalem. The Kushite army again approached Jerusalem, and for reasons that vary according to the different sources, the Assyrians withdrew.166 Shabataqo and Shabaqo were buried in the ancestral burial ground at el-​Kurru along with some of their queens, but some family members were also buried at Thebes and at Abydos in Egypt. Shabataqo’s burial at el-​Kurru is somewhat similar to that of Piankhy, with a single burial chamber roofed by a vault of sandstone blocks, although the entrance staircase to the burial chamber uniquely makes a right-​angle turn, unlike any other Kushite royal burial. Shabaqo’s burial chamber is significantly deeper and entirely rock-​cut, and retains traces of plaster with faint painted scenes on the walls of the burial chamber. Both burials comprised two rooms—​an outer vestibule and an inner burial chamber with coffin benches whose corners were cut out to make space for bed legs. Ten holes around the coffin bench in Shabataqo’s tomb may have supported a funerary canopy. The burial chambers, both looted like the other Napatan royal burials, contained similar ranges of material: offering tables of faience and granite, canopic jars (solid in the case of Shabataqo), shabti figures, and abundant beads and amulets of gold, silver, lapis lazuli, other stones, and faience. Fragmentary ivory panels found in each tomb, likely originally from furniture, were carved in local Kushite style,167 with a variety of traditionally Egyptian images: ritual scenes, scenes of conquest

164. Frame 1999; Zamazalóva 2011: 318–​321. 165. Called Tirhaka in the biblical accounts (2 Kgs 19:9; Isa 37:9). Interpretation of these events has varied, with some scholars seeing campaigns in two separate years; see Morkot 2000: 210–​211. 166. See contributions in Kalimi and Richardson (eds.) 2014 and also c­ hapter 48 in this volume. 167. Lacovara 2015: 449.

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(including captive Libyans and Nubians), and agricultural scenes including dom palm trees, cattle, and ostriches. Shabaqo’s tomb also contained two bronze objects: a figure of the Egyptian funerary god Osiris and a mirror. Burials of some (presumably) minor queens of Shabaqo were found further upstream in two rock-​cut, single chamber tombs (el-​Kurru 62 and el-​Kurru 71). Both kings had teams of eight horses buried at el-​ Kurru, next to the horses of Piankhy. One ruling queen for each of these kings was likely buried at el-​ Kurru. The pyramid burial attributed to Shabataqo’s sister-​wife Arty (el-​Kurru 6) and the tomb of Shabaqo’s sister-​wife Qalhata (el-​Kurru 5) are formally similar to the burials of their spouses—​rock-​cut tombs with two burial chambers—​although the finds were less well preserved. However, while el-​Kurru 6 contained only traces of plaster on the walls, the tomb of Qalhata preserved fully painted tomb chambers (figure 36.6), apart from the lower parts of the walls where flooding had destroyed the decoration. These decorations included Egyptian funerary spells and a ritual sequence. Qalhata was led into the tomb chamber by the sons of Horus, attended by Isis and Nephthys. Her mummy was laid out and ritually protected by funerary gods, her spirit was awakened, and she was then led back out of the tomb to accompany the sun on its daily journey across the sky and through the underworld. While the painting in Qalhata’s tomb has left an unusual greyish background and the Egyptian hieroglyphic text is blurred, the rituals, spells, representations, and conception of burial are essentially Egyptian. The funerary spells were selected from every phase of Egyptian funerary tradition (ranging from Pyramid Texts of the Old Kingdom, Middle Kingdom Coffin Texts, and New Kingdom Book of the Dead), emphasizing the ideological claim of Kushite royalty that they were the inheritors and protectors of Egyptian tradition.168 Upon the death of Shabaqo, Taharqo (690–​664 bc; figure 36.7) became king of Kush and Egypt. Taharqo was a son of Piankhy and his wife Abar, but had been brought to Egypt by Shabataqo to serve as a general. In the revised order of succession, one proposal suggests that 168. See the recent analysis by Balanda 2020.

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Figure 36.6.  Queen Qalhata, depicted in Egyptian style of dress and body, in her tomb in el-​Kurru (el-​Kurru 5). Photo by Martin Thygesen, 2016.

Shabataqo and Shabaqo were son and grandson of Piankhy and his sister-​wife Peksater, while Taharqo was son of Piankhy and his wife Arty.169 Taharqo would thus represent a different matriline within the

169. Broekman 2017: 20.

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Figure 36.7.  Monumental statue of King Taharqo found broken in the cache at Dokki Gel (Bonnet and Valbelle 2006). Photo courtesy of Charles Bonnet.

royal family from his two predecessors. Taharqo invokes his predecessors only by saying that he was Shabataqo’s favorite.170 Taharqo reigned for about twenty-​five years. These were prosperous and largely peaceful years. Taharqo organized significant construction

170. In an inscription in the Temple of Amun at Kawa, see Eide et al. 1994: 139.

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and renovation projects in both Egypt and Kush, while residing in Memphis. At the Kushite capital of Napata, he significantly expanded temples of Hathor and Mut and adorned the pinnacle of Gebel Barkal with an inscription covered in gold foil.171 Across the Nile at Sanam, he built a temple to Amun.172 Taharqo also built a large temple to Amun at Kawa and left an inscription there describing its construction out of cedar from Lebanon and its adornment in gold and silver by artisans from Egypt.173 The entrance to the temple was lined with granite rams, symbolizing Amun of Napata, each protecting an image of Taharqo between their forelegs. A later inscription in the temple describes the vineyards and gardens maintained nearby.174 Another large Amun temple at Tabo was likely built during Taharqo’s reign and may have been the cult center for Amun of Pnubs, a place name whose exact location remains debated.175 Each of these temples were home to a local manifestation of Amun with slightly different characteristics. Taharqo also built or renovated smaller temples further downstream at Sedeinga,176 Semna, Qasr Ibrim,177 and Buhen.178 In Egypt, Taharqo built additions to the temple complex of Amun at Karnak, and also to temples in Philae, Edfu, Memphis, and Tanis.179 Taharqo also initiated a program of royal sculptures of Kushite kings that, like his temple constructions, were an important part of the Napatan kings’ legitimation as kings of Kush and Egypt. Such sculptures

171. Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016: 25–​35. 172. For the inscription and an analysis of its historical implications, see Pope 2014. 173. Eide et al. 1994: 142, 171. 174. Eide et al. 1994: 172–​173. 175. For a discussion of Pnubs, see Pope 2014: 40–​41, and of the temple and site of Tabo, see Bonnet et al. 2021: 44–​53; also Riedel 2019: 649–​651. 176. Rilly and Francigny 2018. 177. Rose 2008: 195. 178. For general discussion, see Török 2009: 342–​343 (with references). 179. For Philae, see Török 2009: 43; for the other sites, see Arnold 1999: 43–​61.

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have been found at three sites in Kush: at Dokki Gel, at Gebel Barkal, and most recently at Dangeil above the Fifth Cataract.180 The statues exhibit a complex iconography that serves to identify them as the depictions of Middle Napatan kings: they wear a tight-​fitting cap crown mounted by a double uraeus-​serpent that indicates their rule over Kush and Egypt, as well as ram’s head amulets symbolizing the ram-​headed Amun of Napata. The statues were made in a distinctly archaizing style, relating most closely to Egyptian Old Kingdom royal sculpture. While archaism was increasingly common in later Egypt,181 the archaic features of these statues specifically served to connect Kush to Egyptian tradition.182 The best preserved of these statues were found in Kush, but fragmentary sculptures found in Karnak, Memphis, and Tanis show that these were part of a larger program of display. The early years of Taharqo’s reign were relatively peaceful. A remarkable Nile flood in his sixth regnal year that was very high but also not destructive was commemorated in multiple steles. His daughter was adopted as God’s Wife of Amun under the name Amenirdis II. Yet there were also conflicts that were increasingly threatening. A recently published but fragmentary annalistic text from the Temple of Amun at Sanam recorded his capture of nomadic peoples, likely from the deserts to the south and west in Kush.183 Such conflicts were regular occurrences in later periods. The major conflicts during Taharqo’s reign were the Assyrian invasions of Egypt from 674 bc onward (­chapter 38 in this volume).184 Already previously, Taharqo had fought the Assyrian forces of Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) in the southern Levant in 701 bc, allied among other local rulers with Hezekiah of Judah (­chapter 39 in this volume), and he seems

180. Bonnet and Valbelle 2006; Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016: 69–​74; Anderson et al. 2019. 181. Kahl 2010 (with references). 182. See discussions in Russmann 1974; Morkot 2003a; Bonnet and Valbelle 2006. 183. Pope 2014. 184. For a summary, see Morkot 2000: 259–​280.

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to also have supported Sidon and Tyre, Phoenician clients of Assyria on the Mediterranean coast, when they came into conflict with the empire (­chapter 47 in this volume). When the Assyrian army invaded Egypt for the first time in 674 bc under Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc), it was repulsed. However, the Assyrian king returned to Egypt in 671 bc and then managed to defeat Taharqo’s forces. The Kushite king was wounded in battle outside Memphis and fled. The Assyrian army captured the city and also the palace, seizing Taharqo’s wives and children along with abundant riches that they brought back to the Assyrian heartland. Fragments of statues of Taharqo that have been excavated in Nineveh were undoubtedly part of these spoils.185 Large numbers of Egyptians were deported to the Assyrian central region at the time; Egyptian specialists are immediately afterwards attested at the royal court as part of Esarhaddon’s circle of scholarly advisors, and Egyptian families (easily identifiable by their Egyptian names) are attested in Nineveh and Assur.186 The Assyrian Empire never implemented direct rule over Lower Egypt, preferring instead to appoint local dynasts as client rulers. When the army returned to Assyria, Taharqo was able to recapture Memphis and regain the allegiance of the delta. The Assyrian army was on its way back to Egypt in 669 bc when Esarhaddon died en route. His son and successor Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc) returned to Egypt in 667 bc (figure 36.8) and recaptured Memphis. Taharqo fled to Thebes, where he died in 664 bc. The Assyrian Empire controlled Egypt for just over ten years before the former client king Psamtek I of Sais (664–​610 bc) asserted his independence as the ruler of Egypt (­chapter 35 in this volume).187 During his reign, Taharqo initiated a new royal pyramid cemetery in Kush at Nuri (figure 36.9), 9 km upstream of Gebel Barkal. Timothy Kendall has proposed that his pyramid was aligned with the pinnacle of Gebel Barkal with the sunrise at the beginning of the Nile flood,

185. Thomason 2004: 158. 186. Radner 2018: 103–​104 (with references). 187. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 17.

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Figure 36.8.  Detail of a relief from the North Palace of Ashurbanipal of Assyria at Nineveh (ca. 650 bc), showing Kushite captives being led from an Egyptian city captured by the Assyrian army. The Kushite soldiers are represented as wearing a single feather, a tradition that dates back well over a millennium in Kush. British Museum, BM 124928. © The Trustees of the British Museum Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

associating the king with the creation and renewal of the land.188 The form of Taharqo’s burial chamber, made in the form of a temple of Osiris in Egypt at Abydos (the Osireion), and perhaps positioned so that the burial chamber itself flooded each year, was unique. These ritual connections may very well have accounted for the location of the tomb, but moving away from the existing royal cemetery at el-​Kurru must also have reflected a political split within the royal family of Kush. Taharqo’s burial was extensively looted, but a remarkable collection of over 1,000 stone shabti figures, some over 60 cm high, was found in the tomb. Reflecting the wide territory he controlled, Taharqo’s wives were buried in Kush and in Egypt, at el-​Kurru (Naparaye), Nuri (Atakhebasken), and likely at Abydos.189

188. Kendall 2008. 189. Dunham 1950; 1955; Leahy 1994: 187.

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Figure 36.9.  The royal cemetery at Nuri from the northeast, with Gebel Barkal visible in the background, center-​left. The large pyramids are those of kings, with the pyramid of Taharqo visible in center-​right behind the longer row of pyramids. The latest pyramids are at the right; much smaller queens’ pyramids are visible mostly as small mounds. Drone photo by Kate Rose, 2018.

Taharqo’s successor was Tanutamani, son of Shabaqo and Qalhata and a cousin of Taharqo.190 In his first year as king, Tanutamani dreamed of two snakes, which was interpreted for him as meaning that he was destined to rule over both Kush and Egypt. As recorded in his Dream Stele, he traveled (in 664 bc) with his army to Napata, then Elephantine, and Thebes.191 This journey, with affirmations by the gods at each stop, represents an early example of what would become a “coronation journey” to major temple centers in Late Napatan Kush (section 36.8). The Kushite army under Tanutamani then recaptured Memphis and the delta. The next year, the Assyrian army returned, defeating Tanutamani and plundering Thebes, although they did not maintain control over Thebes; Tanutamani’s authority over Upper Egypt was recognized until 656 bc. During his reign, he commissioned royal statues that were displayed in 190. Eide et al. 1994: 191–​192; Broekman 2017: 20. 191. Eide et al. 1994: 193–​209.

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Napata and Pnubs and constructed a kiosk in the Amun temple at Gebel Barkal. He was buried at el-​Kurru—​the cemetery of his branch of the royal family—​in a tomb that preserves much of its painted decoration, which is conceptually similar to that of his mother Qalhata. These two tombs at el-​Kurru are so similar that they must have been constructed at about the same time in the first half of the seventh century bc. Apart from the sequence of kings and political and religious activities documented by texts, the empire of Kush continued to flourish after the loss of Egypt. Within the heartland of Napata, settlement and burial continued at Gebel Barkal and Sanam.192 To the southeast, traces of Middle Napatan occupation and burials at Meroe,193 and the nearby site of Enapis,194 show the growing importance of this region. The route between Napata and Meroe, which passed through the Bayuda Desert, has recently been intensively surveyed, and relatively few traces of Napatan occupation have been found.195 However, a Napatan settlement in the Wadi Muqaddam at el-​ Meragh, also in the Bayuda Desert, dates to the Middle and Late Napatan period.196 To the northwest, excavation at Kawa has revealed extensive Napatan remains of houses, storerooms with associated seal impressions, and a cemetery with high status burials.197 Two Napatan structures include a ceramic kiln and a granary.198 Burials at Missiminia199 and

192. Middle Napatan occupation at Gebel Barkal has so far only been documented in the temple area; see the summary in Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016. For Sanam, see Lohwasser 2010; 2012; Vincentelli 2011; 2018a; 2018b. 193. Dunham 1963. 194. Mohamed et al. 2017. 195. Karberg and Lohwasser 2019. 196. Kendall 2018. 197. Summary in Welsby 2014. 198. Salah el-​Din Mohamed Ahmed 1992. Note that the site at that time was called Kerma, although it was nearly 1 km to the north; the site is now known as Dokki Gel. 199. Vila 1980.

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Tombos,200 at cemeteries that had been in use already in the Early Napatan period, suggest that the local communities continued using them.

36.8.  Late Napatan (664–​270 bc) The Late Napatan phase, as defined here, begins after the final loss of Kushite control over Egypt under Tanutamani in 664 bc and continues until the location of royal burials was moved to Meroe in about 270 bc. In Egypt, rulers based at Sais in the Delta who had allied themselves with the Assyrian invasion established the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty (­chapter 49 in volume 5). The Late Napatan phase encompasses several distinct events and sub-​ phases. The first four kings (Atlanersa, Senkamanisken, Anlamani, and Aspelta), who reigned for the first eighty years (ca. 656–​580 bc), maintained many aspects of Kushite royal practice. We have little information about Kush during the reigns of the following ten kings (ca. 580–​425 bc), apart from their royal burials at Nuri. A third phase encompasses the reign of Amannote-​erike and his successors, who had political ambitions to retake control of Egypt. Kings from Atlanersa to Aspelta continued to construct and renovate temples and the royal palace at Gebel Barkal. Atlanersa and Senkamanisken built a new temple at Gebel Barkal dedicated to Osiris and to the Kushite god Dedwen (B 700).201 A granite barque stand of Atlanersa was found in the temple, and a pylon depicting Senkamanisken smiting enemies was documented by Cailliaud in 1822 but was dismantled for local construction soon after. In addition, Anlamani rebuilt a temple that was likely dedicated to the god Amun of Karnak (B 800).202 Anlamani and Aspelta also rebuilt the royal

200. E.g., Smith 2007. 201. Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016: 94–​99. 202. Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016: 110–​112.

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palace at Gebel Barkal, including a throne room with brightly painted columns and ceiling.203 In addition to construction activities at Gebel Barkal, monumental royal statues like those of Taharqo and Tanutamani continued to be made and displayed. Royal craft production and trade continued at Sanam, where royal seals with the names of these kings were found in the “Treasury” and in the workshop building (SA.K 300), and seals with the names of Anlamani and Aspelta were in use at Kawa.204 The burial of kings and queens resumed at Nuri, and the court clearly had access to scribes and artists with Egyptian training to create public inscriptions and to manufacture massive coffins inscribed with funerary spells, as well as a full range of burial equipment. In addition, some unusually informative royal inscriptions were commissioned by Anlamani and especially by Aspelta. Anlamani’s Enthronement Stele from the Amun temple at Kawa describes the king’s journey to Kawa as part of his coronation.205 This is the beginning of the recorded tradition of Kushite coronation journeys in which Napatan kings were crowned in Meroe, Napata, Kawa, and sometimes also other places, including Pnubs.206 As his predecessors had done, Anlamani dedicated his sisters as sistrum players in temples of Amun: one each in Napata, Gempaaten, Pnubs, and “Bull of Bow-​Land” (perhaps Sanam). He greeted the Queen Mother Nasalsa (his mother) in Kawa, to receive her blessing in what appears to have been an essential part of legitimate kingship, emphasizing the importance of the matrilineal line in Kush. While at Kawa, he also sent an expedition against the Bulahau, nomads of the Eastern Desert or Red Sea Hills who were likely the ancestors of the Blemmyes in later texts.

203. Kendall 1997; Kendall and Wolf 2007; for color reconstruction, see Kendall and El-​Hassan 2016: 126. 204. Vincentelli 2018a. 205. Eide et al. 1994: 216–​228. 206. Török 1992; 2009: 312, 342; note the comments in Pope 2014: 35–​41.

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Anlamani was succeeded on the throne by Aspelta, his brother (both sons of Queen Nasalsa). Aspelta commissioned an unusual number of inscriptions that provide considerable information about kingship and the structure of the empire of Kush around 600 bc. The first of these was the Election Stele,207 from the Amun Temple (B 500) at Gebel Barkal and dated to Year 1 of his reign. This inscription describes in detail the process by which Aspelta was chosen to be king. At the top of the stele, the king’s mother Nasalsa asks Amun to appoint Aspelta to be king, and Amun of Napata, supported by Mut, agrees. The text describes the army and officials of Kush gathered at Napata, without a king—​as the text says, “like a herd of cattle without their herder”—​and the petition of the priests to ask Amun (through an oracle) to appoint a king. Amun chooses Aspelta from among the “king’s brothers” and in justification for this choice, the text then lists seven generations of Aspelta’s female ancestors, all king’s sisters whose mothers were king’s sisters. Aspelta’s father was Amun—​no human father is mentioned. Aspelta was brought out of the temple and presented to the army as the new king and a festival was celebrated. The names of Anlamani, Aspelta, and the other female ancestors were all systematically erased, a pattern continued by the breaking of a stele of Aspelta which was excavated at Dokki Gel.208 This pattern clearly suggests that the accession of these two brothers was not fully approved, although the reasons are not clear. The listing of officials is also interesting as a sketch of the governmental structure of Kush. The text lists six military commanders, six overseers of fortresses, six overseers of documents, and seven overseers of seals of the estate of the king. The importance of the army and fortresses is clear, and archaeological evidence of royal seals, particularly at Sanam, gives us a sense of at least one set of activities (production and trade) conducted on an estate of the king. The overseers of documents are tantalizing, however. No papyri have yet been recovered from Kush, nor is there any

207. Eide et al. 1994: 232–​252. 208. Valbelle 2012.

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indication of literacy or writing in any medium other than formal public inscriptions. But, based on this list and other references in the royal inscriptions, it is certain that there were scribes writing on papyrus in the Kushite administration. In Aspelta’s Year 2, he expelled a family of priests from the Amun temple and had them executed and burned for the crime of plotting to kill an innocent man, seemingly by interfering with an oracle of Amun. This action to restore order (maat) was recorded on a monument in the Amun temple at Gebel Barkal now known as the Banishment Stele.209 In Aspelta’s Year 3, he installed a royal daughter, named Kheb, as sistrum-​player in the temple of Amun at Sanam, as recorded on the Adoption Stele.210 This document lists eleven important officials in Kush, not only by title but also by name, but the list is somewhat different from that given in the Election Stele.211 It enumerates seven “overseers of the seal of the king’s house” but lists separate places where they served, toponyms that have not been localized. The text also names a “chief scribe of Kush,” “king’s scribe” and “overseer of the granary,” “king’s scribe of the granary,” a mayor, and finally, the “sealer of the king.” Commanders of the army or of fortresses are not mentioned. The fact that “overseers of the seal of the king’s houses” resided in different locations offers clues to the geographic distribution of royal estates, perhaps associated with temples, in the core region of Napata.212 Archaeological traces of what are likely to be some of these royal estates have been found downstream of Gebel Barkal,213 perhaps as paired sites on either side of the Nile, although only one has been even partially excavated and their dating to the Napatan period is not yet clear. Across

209. Eide et al. 1994: 252–​258. 210. Eide et al. 1994: 259–​268. 211. See also the discussion in Pope 2014: 145–​150 (there called the “Donation Stela”). 212. As noted by Török in Eide et al. 1994: 265–​ 266; Valbelle 2012; Pope 2014: 149–​150. 213. Several were first reported by Żurawski 2003: 383–​384.

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the river from Sanam was a temple at Merowe Sheriq, recognizable only from some sandstone blocks decorated with reliefs that were reused in a medieval fortified settlement.214 About 33 km downstream of Merowe Sheriq was another pair of sites: a temple and associated settlement remains at Usli on the left (south) bank,215 and a temple at Hujair Gubli on the right bank.216 Another 80 km downstream at the site of Soniyat on the right bank are remains of a palace, measuring at least 80 m on one side, and a smaller temple. Both were constructed of sandstone.217 In between Hujair Gubli and Soniyat is the modern town of Korti, which seems likely to correspond to a place named Kerten that was a stopping point for the later king Amannote-​erike on a journey between Barkal and Kawa,218 although no Napatan remains have yet been located there.219 A cluster of Napatan sites in the Argi Basin in this same stretch of river (just north of Debba, on the right bank), located by survey but not yet extensively excavated, are likely also associated with these proposed royal settlements.220 The last of Aspelta’s major royal inscriptions established a funerary cult of prince Khaliut, son of Piankhy.221 The stele was found along the entrance to the Amun temple at Gebel Barkal. According to the text, Khaliut was the mayor of the town of Kanad (not located), indicating another element of the Kushite administration of the region. Discoveries of statues inscribed with the name of Aspelta in the area of Khartoum (east of the Blue Nile) suggest that Kushite control extended at least that

214. Godlewski 2008. 215. Bárta et al. 2013. 216. The site is also transliterated as Hugeir: Rocheleau 2008; Mohamed et al. 2014; Żurawski 2018. 217. Drzewiecki 2017. 218. Eide et al. 1996: 421. 219. Żurawski 2018: 467n32. 220. In particular the settlement of over 10 hectares designated as Argi 2 and the associated cemetery, see Żurawski 2003: 177–​178; 2018: 472. 221. Eide et al. 1994: 268–​279.

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far south.222 The statues were not recovered in a controlled excavation, however, and are not informative about the nature of Napatan occupation there. After the burial of Tanutamani at el-​Kurru, kings and queens of Kush returned to the burial site begun by Taharqo at Nuri and built their pyramid tombs there for over 300 years (ca. 570–​270 bc), with two interruptions noted below. Nineteen kings were accompanied in burial by over fifty queens. As in other royal Napatan cemeteries, all of these burials were looted, but the surviving objects show a continuity with Kushite burial traditions from earlier periods. A recent analysis of shabti figures, amulets, and texts from Nuri suggests that most of the objects were manufactured in Egypt, even if their uses may not have been identical to Egyptian practices.223 An essentially Egyptian perspective on death and the afterlife is maintained in inscribed objects, including the monumental sarcophagi of Anlamani and Aspelta.224 The inscribed steles preserved in the above-​ground burial chapels, however, show the development of a distinctively Kushite ritual connected to the royal ancestors.225 In 593 bc, during the reign of Aspelta, the Egyptian king Psamtek II raided Kush (­chapter 49 in volume 5).226 The Twenty-​sixth Dynasty in Egypt that had succeeded the Kushites as rulers of Egypt had developed a strongly anti-​Kushite ideology.227 The raids certainly reached Pnubs and may also have reached Napata, as a stele of Psamtek II at Tanis mentions destroying the Kushite army at Ta-​dehenet, which is likely but not certainly Gebel Barkal itself.228

222. Vercoutter 1961; Elsadig 2002. 223. Howley 2015a. 224. Doll 1978; 1981. 225. Doll 2014. 226. Török 2009: 361 227. Török 2009: 362. 228. For a contrary opinion, see Żurawski 2018.

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Caches of broken statues of the kings of Kush, along with one queen, were found at Dokki Gel and Gebel Barkal, perhaps associated with burning in the palace at the latter site and the “Treasury” at Sanam. A cache of four additional statues found at Dangeil,229 above the Fifth Cataract and well beyond the reach of Psamtek’s campaign, suggests other possible explanations for the destruction of the statues, including possible internal political conflicts that are also suggested by the erasure of Aspelta’s name from inscriptions. In any case, the raid coincided with the last production of monumental royal statues of kings of Kush, which had extended from Taharqo through the reign of Aspelta. After the raid, connections with Egypt seem to have been significantly reduced, and there is a long series of kings about which we know little more than their name and the location of their burial at Nuri. The chronology of these kings is also very approximate. The rule of the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty in Egypt ended when the Persian Empire conquered Egypt, which was under Persian rule from 525 to 404 bc (­chapters 54 and 61 in volume 5). During the later fifth century, Herodotus visited Egypt as far south as Aswan, and his account includes references to Aithiopia, the Greek term that encompassed Kush.230 He reports that the Persian king Cambyses II attempted to invade Kush around 525 bc, but he failed amidst starvation and cannibalism. The historicity of this recounting is generally doubted; other representations show that Kush sent tribute of ivory, ebony, and gold to the Persian capital Persepolis and that captive (?) Kushite soldiers served in the Persian army under Xerxes I in the early fifth century bc.231 An Egyptian rebellion brought Persian control to its end in 404 bc; it was re-​established in 343 bc, only shortly before Alexander the Great’s conquest of Egypt in 332 bc (­chapter 61 in volume 5). A Hellenistic dynasty, called the Ptolemaic Dynasty after its founder Ptolemy, one of

229. Anderson and Ahmed 2014; Anderson et al. 2017. 230. The classical sources on Kush are discussed in Burstein 2021. 231. Burstein 2021: 700.

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Alexander’s generals, was established in 305 bc and the Ptolemies would control Egypt until the Roman conquest in 31 bc. Contemporary with these developments in Egypt, beginning around 425 bc, a new series of Kushite kings revived some earlier practices, including the installation of royal steles and the fashioning of royal statues. This began with Amannote-​erike,232 and continued until the reign of Nastasen, ending around 300 bc. Török has argued ingeniously that the titulary of these kings suggests they had developed ideas of re-​establishing control over Egypt.233 This policy seems to have been based on the earlier Kushite ideology centered on the restoration of proper religious practice at a time when Egypt was either under foreign control or was in a state of rebellion and anarchy. It is likely that this was the period when several pyramids at Nuri were enlarged: the pyramid of Taharqo (the revered ancestor) was expanded to become the largest pyramid in Kush by far (with a base measuring 52 m on each side), as well as that of Amannote-​ erike. These expansions covered over the original chapels at these pyramids, and it is likely for that reason that a new rock-​cut funerary temple with an unusual plan (Nuri 400) was built immediately behind Taharqo’s pyramid.234 This funerary temple is dated to the fourth century bc on the basis of comparison with a very similar structure built at el-​Kurru (section 36.9). Several later rulers in this series left long annalistic inscriptions that provide a level of detail about the fourth century bc in Kush that is not available for the preceding 200 years. Both kings continued the tradition of the coronation journey through Kush, extending from Meroe to Napata, Kawa, and Pnubs.235 The Stele of Harsiyotef (ca. 400–​360

232. This king’s name is transliterated in various ways, with Aman-​Nete-​Yerike (Dunham 1955) and Irike-​Amanote (Eide et al. 1996) being the main variants. The reading used here is that of Rilly 2017. 233. Eide et al. 1996: 396–​398. 234. Only partially excavated by Reisner, see Dunham 1955: 271, 273. 235. Harsiyotef also stopped at the temple of Bastet in Tara, perhaps to be identified with Usli.

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bc)236 details thirty-​five years of this king’s reign, and encompasses his conflicts with the Meded near Kawa, the Rehreh near Meroe, and the Makha/​Mekhu, whom Rilly identifies as the Nuba, later known as Nubians.237 His campaigns suggest an expansion of control to Lower Nubia. The stele also details his renovation of the Temple of Amun and the royal palace at Napata, and donations to temples throughout Kush. The Stele of Nastasen (ca. 325 bc) recounts similar campaigns against nomadic groups and in Lower Nubia.238 During his reign the gold-​ covered inscription on the pinnacle of Gebel Barkal was renovated. In a related use of Egyptian forms of royal symbolism, King Akh-​Aritene (ca. 340 bc) commissioned a statue of himself; in some ways it was similar to the royal statues of the Middle Napatan kings, but was crafted at approximately half life-​size.239 Sometime during the later fourth century bc, members of the royal family were buried in pyramids at two sites other than Nuri for the first time in over 300 years. None of these burials contained inscriptions that identified the occupants, but the construction and size (sides of the bases measure 26 m in length) of the pyramids and the form of the chapels and burial chambers provide a dating solidly contemporary with the last burials at Nuri. At Gebel Barkal, a group of six pyramids appears to date to this time. Reisner and Dunham interpreted them, based on the size and number of burial chambers, as a larger king’s pyramid (Gebel Barkal 11) associated with two smaller queens’ pyramids (Gebel Barkal 12 and 13), with three smaller kings’ pyramids (Gebel Barkal 14, 18, and 19) nearby.240 There are some Kushite kings, probably from the fourth century bc, whose burials are not known, and it is possible that these pyramids were built for them.241 236. Eide et al. 1996: 438–​464. 237. For different transliterations of the name: Eide et al. 1996: 451; Rilly 2017: 177. 238. Eide et al. 1996: 471–​501. 239. Reading from Rilly 2017; formerly known as Akhratan. 240. Dunham 1957. 241. Names in Rilly 2017: 121.

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At el-​Kurru, two large pyramids were built in the later fourth century bc, one in the traditional king’s area of the cemetery (el-​Kurru 1), and one across the wadi to the south in the traditional area for queens (el-​Kurru 2). Reisner did not recover any material that identified the rulers for whom the pyramids were intended, and in fact he was prevented from excavating most of the burial chambers of el-​Kurru 1 by his concern about a potential collapse. More recent excavation has shown that el-​Kurru 1, at least, was never used for a burial.242 The three underground chambers were only roughly shaped but not finished, including the coffin bench in the innermost chamber. A 3-​m-​long granite slab, intended to be a burial stele, was brought from a quarry approximately 20 km upstream and left in place uninscribed on the coffin bench, and a niche at the back of the burial chamber that would have accommodated the stele was also abandoned. Figures had been carved in the above-​ground chapel, but the inscriptions had not been added. A rock-​cut funerary temple with an unusual form was also built at el-​Kurru at the same time.243 Located 90 m from el-​Kurru 1, it was likely built in the quarry that provided the sandstone blocks used to build the pyramids at the site. Two rooms were formed in the quarry by adding a dividing wall of cut sandstone blocks; the inner room contained twenty-​ six columns that would have supported a portico around the room. More remarkably, two doorways leading to a network of six entirely underground rooms were cut into the rock from the room with the portico. Immediately inside each doorway were decorative sandstone columns supporting decorative stone beams, and the two innermost rooms contained door sockets and bolt holes for closing and presumably securing the contents of the rooms. This temple was also not fully finished and was never used for its intended purpose. The underground column capitals provided a formal parallel to Ptolemaic Alexandria, further suggesting a date for pyramid el-​Kurru 1 and this temple at about the same time. As noted above, a nearly identical temple had been partially excavated by

242. Emberling et al. 2015. 243. Emberling et al. 2015.

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Reisner at Nuri, although that temple had been completed, with reliefs carved into the masonry walls.244 The changed location of these last royal burials of the Late Napatan period and the unfinished pyramid and temple at el-​Kurru together may be taken to suggest a period of unrest, or at least some sort of conflict within the elite in Kush. While the position of the pyramid el-​Kurru 1 immediately next to the burial of Piankhy suggests that ancestral legitimation was sought from a branch of the royal family different from the lineage of Taharqo, the fact that this pyramid was in the end never used might suggest that the successor of the ruler who had it built chose not to give him the honor of a royal burial. In any case, within a few decades, royal burials were moved to Meroe, where they would mostly remain for the next six centuries. It is only in the Late Napatan period that we have clear evidence that the site of Meroe was an important settlement in Kush. No structures from this period survive as a whole at Meroe, but objects inscribed with royal cartouches as well as carved relief blocks that were reused in later structures provide some hints about the structures that existed there. The settlement at Meroe appears to have been built on islands in the Nile surrounded by channels that have since filled in.245 A cache of offerings, many containing dedications to Amun in his various forms, suggests the existence of an Amun temple in the area of the later “royal enclosure” at the site. Textual references to a royal residence at Meroe suggest that there was a palace nearby. Over a kilometer to the east was an independent temple (M 250); it was likely dedicated to a solar cult, and was named the “Sun Temple” by its excavators in the early twentieth century,246 after a reference in Herodotus to the “Table of the Sun.”247 Abundant burials of Late Napatan date, including many high-​status burials, were also found in two cemeteries at Meroe—​the West Cemetery,

244. Dunham 1955: 271. 245. Török 1997b: I 25–​32. 246. Garstang et al. 1911; also Török 1997b: I 102–​114. 247. Hdt. 3.17−18.

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located 500 m east of Temple M 250, and the South Cemetery, nearly 3 km east of the temple.248

36.9.  Postscript: Meroitic Kush (270 bc–​AD 350) The move of the royal burial ground from Nuri to Meroe in about 270 bc, with the burial of Arkamani I, appears to be the last step in a transition that shifted the center of Kushite political authority and wealth from Napata to Meroe. During the final phase of the Kushite empire, known as the Meroitic period, a number of significant cultural innovations were developed, some related to the savannah environment of Meroe, suggesting the increasing importance of culture in that region. A partial list includes the cult of the lion-​headed Kushite god Apedemak; the development of a Meroitic script based on Egyptian signs but rendering a language that remains challenging to understand; the cultivation of new crops, including sorghum and millet as well as tree cotton; the rise of a series of powerful ruling queens known as kandake; contact with the classical world through engagement with Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt; and the eventual introduction of the waterwheel as an irrigation tool that allowed for significant expansion of population.249 R ef er en c es Adams, W. Y. 1977. Nubia: corridor to Africa. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Addison, F. 1949. Jebel Moya. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Anderson, J., Ahmed, S.M., Bashir, M.S., and el Rasheed, R.K. 2019. Taharqo and his descendants: a statue cache upstream of the Fifth Nile Cataract. In Masson-Berghoff, A. (ed.), Statues in context: production, meaning and (re)uses. Leuven: Peeters, 229−246.

248. Dunham 1963. 249. Edwards 2004.

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Reisner, G.A. 1918b. Preliminary report on the Harvard-​Boston excavations at Nûri: the kings of Ethiopia after Tirhaqa. In Bates, O. (ed.), Varia Africana, 2. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Harvard University, 1–​64. Reisner, G.A. 1919. Outline of the ancient history of the Sudan, part IV: the first kingdom of Ethiopia, its conquest of Egypt, and its development into a kingdom of the Sudan (1100–​250 BC). Sudan Notes and Records 2: 35–​67. Reisner, G.A. 1920a. The Barkal temples in 1916. JEA 6: 247–​64. Reisner, G.A. 1920b. Note on the Harvard-​Boston excavations at El-​Kurruw and Barkal in 1918–​1919. JEA 6: 61–​64. Reisner, G.A. 1923a. The Meroitic kingdom of Ethiopia: a chronological outline. JEA 9: 34–​77. Reisner, G.A. 1923b. The Meroitic kingdom of Ethiopia: additional note. JEA 9: 157–​160. Reisner, G.A. 1931. Inscribed monuments from Gebel Barkal. ZÄS 66: 76–​100. Reisner, M.B. 1934. Inscribed monuments from Gebel Barkal, part 4: the stela of Prince Khaliut. ZÄS 70: 35–​46. Riedel, A. 2019. The sacred architecture of the Napatan period. In Raue, D. (ed.), Handbook of ancient Nubia. Berlin: De Gruyter, 643–​666. Rilly, C. 2008. Enemy brothers: kinship and relationship between Meroites and Nubians (Noba). In Godlewski, W., and Łajtar, A. (eds.), Between the cataracts, part 1: main papers. Warsaw: Warsaw University, 211–​225. Rilly, C. 2017. Histoire du Soudan des origines à la chute du sultanat Fung. In Cabon, O. (ed.), Histoire et civilisations du Soudan de la préhistoire à nos jours. Paris: Soleb, 26–​445. Rilly, C. 2019. Languages of ancient Nubia. In Raue, D. (ed.), Handbook of ancient Nubia. Berlin: De Gruyter, 129–​151. Rilly, C., and Francigny, V. 2018. Closer to the ancestors: excavations of the French mission in Sedeinga 2013–​2017. Sudan & Nubia 22: 65–​74. Rocheleau, C.M. 2008. Amun temples in Nubia: a typological study of New Kingdom, Napatan and Meroitic temples. Oxford: Archaeopress. Rose, P. 2008. Early settlement at Qasr Ibrim. In Godlewski, W., and Łajtar, A. (eds.), Between the cataracts: Proceedings of the 11th Conference for Nubian Studies, part 1: main papers. Warsaw: Warsaw University Press, 195–​209. Rose, P. 2019. Early Kushite ceramics of the earlier 1st millennium BC in Lower and Upper Nubia. In Raue, D. (ed.), Handbook of ancient Nubia. Berlin: De Gruyter, 675–​696.

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Russmann, E. 1974. The representation of the king in the XXVth dynasty. Brussels: Fondation Égyptologique Reine Élisabeth /​Brooklyn, NY: The Brooklyn Museum. Säve-​Söderbergh, T. 1989. Middle Nubian sites. Partille: Paul Åström. Säve-​Söderbergh, T., and Troy, L. 1991. New Kingdom pharaonic sites: the finds and the sites. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Schrader, S.A., Smith, S.T., Olsen, S., and Buzon, M. 2018. Symbolic equids and Kushite state formation: a horse burial at Tombos. Antiquity 92: 383–​397. Seignobos, R. 2014. Nubia and Nubians in medieval Latin culture: the evidence of maps (12th–​14th century). In Anderson, J.R., and Welsby, D.A. (eds.), The Fourth Cataract and beyond. Leuven: Peeters, 989–​1004. Shinnie, P.L. 1967. Meroe: a civilization of the Sudan. London: Thames & Hudson. Shinnie, P.L., and Bradley, R. 1980. The capital of Kush, 1: Meroe excavations 1965–​1972. Berlin: Akademie-​Verlag. Simpson, W.K. 1963. Heka-​Nefer and the dynastic material from Toshka and Arminna. New Haven, CT: Peabody Museum of Natural History of Yale University. Sinopoli, C.M. 2001. Empires. In Feinman, G.M., and Price, T.D. (eds.), Archaeology at the millennium: a sourcebook. New York: Kluwer Academic/​ Plenum, 439–​471. Sjöström, I.W. 2010. Golden accessories: a link to the outside world from the pyramid at Site 4-​F-​71 (Fourth Cataract, SARS Concession). Sudan & Nubia 14: 45–​47. Smith, S.T. 2003. Wretched Kush: ethnic identities and boundaries in Egypt’s Nubian empire. London and New York: Routledge. Smith, S.T. 2007. Death at Tombos: pyramids, iron, and the rise of the Napatan kingdom. Sudan & Nubia 11: 2–​14. Smith, S.T. 2021. The Nubian experience of Egyptian domination during the New Kingdom. In Emberling, G., and Williams, B.B. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Nubia. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 369–​394. Smith, S.T., and Buzon, M.R. 2018. The fortified settlement at Tombos and Egyptian colonial strategy in New Kingdom Nubia. In Budka, J., and Auenmüller, J. (eds.), From microcosm to macrocosm: individual households and cities in ancient Egypt and Nubia. Leiden: Sidestone, 205–​225. Southall, A. 1956. Alur society: a study in processes and types of domination. Cambridge: Heffer.

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Southall, A. 1999. The segmentary state and the ritual phase in political economy. In McIntosh, S.K. (ed.), Beyond chiefdoms: pathways to complexity in Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 31–​38. Spence, K. 2019. New Kingdom tombs in Lower and Upper Nubia. In Raue, D. (ed.), Handbook of ancient Nubia. Berlin: De Gruyter, 541–​565. Spencer, N., Stevens, A., and Binder, M. (eds.) 2017. Nubia in the New Kingdom: lived experience, pharaonic control and indigenous traditions. Leuven: Peeters. Steindorff, G. 1935–​1937. Aniba: Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte Mission Archéologique de Nubie 1929–​1934. Glückstadt: Augustin. Thijs, A. 2003. The troubled careers of Amenhotep and Panehsy: the High Priest of Amun and the Viceroy of Kush under the last Ramessides. SAK 31: 289–​306. Thomason, A.K. 2004. From Sennacherib’s bronzes to Taharqa’s feet: conceptions of the material world at Nineveh. Iraq 66: 151–​162. Török, L. 1992. Ambulatory kingship and settlement history: a study on the contribution of archaeology to Meroitic history. In Bonnet, C. (ed.), Études nubiennes: conférence de Genève, 1. Geneva: J.G. Cecconi, 111–​126. Török, L. 1997a. The kingdom of Kush: handbook of the Napatan-​Meroitic civilization. Leiden: Brill. Török, L. 1997b. Meroe city, an ancient African capital: John Garstang’s excavations in the Sudan. London: Egypt Exploration Society. Török, L. 1999. The origin of the Napatan state: the long chronology of the El Kurru cemetery. In Wenig, S. (ed.), Studien zum antiken Sudan. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 149–​159. Török, L. 2002. The image of the ordered world in ancient Nubian art: the construction of the Kushite mind, 800 BC−300 AD. Leiden: Brill. Török, L. 2008. From chiefdom to “segmentary state”: Meroitic studies—​a personal view. In Godlewski, W., and Łajtar, A. (eds.), Between the cataracts, part 1: main papers. Warsaw: Warsaw University Press, 149–​178. Török, L. 2009. Between two worlds: the frontier region between ancient Nubia and Egypt, 3700 BC−AD 500. Leiden: Brill. Török, L. 2015. The periods of Kushite history from the tenth century BC to the AD fourth century. Budapest: Izisz Foundation. Tucker, G., Vincentelli, I., and Emberling, G. 2019. Defining a city in Napatan Kush: geophysical prospection at Sanam. Sudan & Nubia 23: 85–​94.

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Valbelle, D. 2012. Les stèles de l’an 3 d’Aspelta. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Valbelle, D. 2018. Egyptian usage of Nubian toponyms: Iam, Kush and Pnubs. In Bács, T.A., Bollók, Á., and Tivadar, V. (eds.), Across the Mediterranean—​ along the Nile: studies in Egyptology, Nubiology and Late Antiquity dedicated to László Török. Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences and Museum of Fine Arts, 445–​453. Valbelle, D. 2021. Egyptian conquest and administration of Nubia. In Emberling, G., and Williams, B.B. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Nubia. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 327–​341. Vercoutter, J. 1961. Le sphinx d’Aspelta de Defeia (Khartoum Museum no. 11777). In Sainte Fare Garnot, J. (ed.), Melanges Mariette. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 97–​104. Vila, A. 1975−1985. La prospection archéologique de la vallée du Nil, au sud de la cataracte de Dal (Nubie Soudanaise). Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Vila, A. 1980. La nécropole de Missiminia, 1: les sépultures napatéennes. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Vincentelli, I. 2006. Hillat El-​Arab: the joint Sudanese-​Italian Expedition in the Napatan region, Sudan. Oxford: Archaeopress. Vincentelli, I. 2011. The Treasury and other buildings at Sanam. In Rondot, V., Alpi, F., and Villeneuve, F. (eds.), La pioche et la plume autour du Soudan, du Liban et de la Jordanie: hommages archéologiques à Patrice Lenoble. Paris: Presses de l’Université Paris-​Sorbonne, 269–​282. Vincentelli, I. 2018a. Household and state economy in Napatan times. In Bács, T.A., Bollók, Á., and Tivadar, V. (eds.), Across the Mediterranean—​along the Nile: studies in Egyptology, Nubiology and Late Antiquity dedicated to László Török. Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences and Museum of Fine Arts, 437–​444. Vincentelli, I. 2018b. Long distance trade: the evidence from Sanam. In Honegger, M. (ed.), Nubian archaeology in the XXIst century. Leuven: Peeters, 127–​134. Vittmann, G. 2007. A question of names, titles, and iconography: Kushites in priestly, administrative and other positions from Dynasties 25 to 26. Der antike Sudan: Mitteilungen der sudanarchäologischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin 18: 139–​161.

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Waddington, G., and Hanbury, B. 1822. Journal of a visit to some parts of Ethiopia. London: John Murray. Welsby, D.A. 1996. The Kingdom of Kush: the Napatan and Meroitic empires. London: British Museum Press. Welsby, D.A. 2001. Life on the desert edge: seven thousand years of settlement in the northern Dongola Reach, Sudan. Oxford: Archaeopress. Welsby, D.A. 2003. Survey above the Fourth Nile Cataract. Oxford: Archaeopress. Welsby, D.A. 2014. Kawa, the pharaonic and Kushite town of Gematon: history and archaeology of the site. Khartoum: Nubian Archaeological Development Organization. Retrieved from http://​www.sudarc​hrs.org.uk/​wp-​cont​ ent/​uplo​ads/​2018/​07/​Kawa_​Q​SAP_​Engl​ish_​book​let.pdf (last accessed March 9, 2021). Welsby, D.A. 2017. Gematon between the reigns of Rameses VI and Taharqa. In Spencer, N., Stevens, A., and Binder, M. (eds.), Nubia in the New Kingdom: lived experience, pharaonic control and indigenous traditions. Leuven: Peeters, 475–​487. Welsby, D.A. 2018. Qatar-​Sudan Archaeological Project: excavations and other activities at Kawa—​the 2017–​18 season. Sudan & Nubia 22: 89–​95. Welsby, D.A., and Anderson, J. (eds.) 2004. Sudan: ancient treasures. London: British Museum Press. Welsby, D.A., and Welsby Sjöström, I. 2006–​2007. The Dongola Reach and the Fourth Cataract: continuity and change during the 2nd and 1st millennia BC. CRIPEL 26: 379–​398. Wenig, S. 1990. Pabatma—​ Pekereslo—​ Pekar-​ tror: ein Beitrag zur Frühgeschichte der Kuschiten. In Apelt, D., Endesfelder, E., and Wenig, S. (eds.), Studia in honorem Fritz Hintze. Berlin: Akademie-​Verlag, 333–​352. Wenig, S. 1992. Kommentar zu Török: ambulatory kingship and settlement history: a study on the contribution of archaeology to Meroitic history. In Bonnet, C. (ed.), Études nubiennes: conférence de Genève, 1. Geneva: J. G. Cecconi, 137–​140. Wenig, S. 2013a. Die Heraufkunft der 25. Dynastie. In Wenig, S., and Zibelius-​ Chen, K. (eds.), Die Kulturen Nubiens: ein afrikanisches Vermächtnis. Dettelbach: Röll, 157–​171. Wenig, S. 2013b. Kusch wird Weltmacht: die 25. ägyptische Dynastie. In Wenig, S., and Zibelius-​Chen, K. (eds.), Die Kulturen Nubiens: ein afrikanisches Vermächtnis. Dettelbach: Röll, 173–​194.

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Wenig, S., Hochfield, S., and Riefstahl, E. (eds.) 1978. Africa in antiquity—​ the arts of ancient Nubia and the Sudan, 1: the essays. Brooklyn, NY: The Brooklyn Museum. Whitmore, K.M., Buzon, M.R., and Smith, S.T. 2019. Living on the border: health and identity during Egypt’s colonization of Nubia in the New Kingdom period. In Tica, C.I., and Martin, D.L. (eds.), Bioarchaeology of frontiers and borderlands. Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 135–​159. Wildung, D. (ed.) 1997. Sudan: ancient kingdoms of the Nile. Paris: Flammarion. Williams, B.B. 2021. The Napatan Neo-​Kushite state, 1: the intermediate period and second empire. In Emberling, G., and Williams, B.B. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Nubia. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 411–​432. Williams, M. 2019. The Nile basin: quaternary geology, geomorphology and prehistoric environments. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Williams, M. 2021. Holocene environments in northeast Africa. In Emberling, G., and Williams, B.B. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Nubia. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 67–​78. Wolf, P., and Nowotnick, U. 2005. The second season of the SARS Anglo-​ German expedition to the Fourth Cataract. Sudan & Nubia 9: 23–​31. Zamazalová, S. 2011. Before the Assyrian conquest in 671 BCE: relations between Egypt, Kush and Assyria. In Mynářová, J. (ed.), Egypt and the Near East: the crossroads. Prague: Charles University, 297–​328. Zibelius-​Chen, K. 1996. Das nachkoloniale Nubien: politische Fragen der Entstehung des kuschitischen Reiches. In Gundlach, R., Kropp, M., and Leibundgut, A. (eds.), Der Sudan in Vergangenheit und Gegenwart. Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 195–​217. Żurawski, B. 2003. Survey and excavations between Old Dongola and Ez-​ Zuma. Warsaw: Neriton. Żurawski, B. 2018. Where was the “Land of Shas”? Some comments on Psamtik II’s expedition to the south caused by the recent archaeological discoveries in the Southern Dongola reach. In Bács, T.A., Bollók, Á., and Tivadar, V. (eds.), Across the Mediterranean—​along the Nile: studies in Egyptology, Nubiology and Late Antiquity dedicated to László Török. Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences and Museum of Fine Arts, 455–​475.

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Assyria from Tiglath-​pileser I to Ashurnasirpal II Daisuke Shibata

37.1. Introduction Assur was just a small city-​state until the first half of the second millennium bc, but it succeeded in subduing the surrounding territories in the fifteenth and fourteenth centuries bc, thereby transformed itself into a territorial state, the “Land of Aššur” (māt Aššur), which we today call the kingdom of Assyria.1 This state reached a first peak in the thirteenth century bc when it succeeded in establishing a strong system of governance that brought most of Upper Mesopotamia under its control, from the region of the Tigris and both Zab rivers to the Euphrates, turning many of the territories into the Assyrian provinces. However, from the first half of the twelfth century bc, large-​scale migrations centered in the Eastern Mediterranean contributed to the collapse of some of the major regional powers, including the Hittite Empire (­chapter 31 in volume 3). While the kingdom of Assyria was less affected by these events, the twelfth century bc saw three coups d’état over the succession to the Assyrian throne, and internal conflicts involving neighboring Babylonia

1. This chapter was language-​edited by Karen Radner. Daisuke Shibata, Assyria from Tiglath-pileser I to Ashurnasirpal II In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0037

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were frequent, causing Assyria’s power to stagnate. As a result of all these events, the realm lost control over some of the provinces in its periphery and also saw its influence over adjoining kingdoms reduced (­chapter 32 in volume 3). However, Assyria was still able to retain much of its central provinces, which stretched from the Tigris to the Khabur river. The present chapter deals with the political history of the Assyrian kingdom that followed this development, covering the period from the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc) to the reign of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc). The most striking feature of this period is the temporary decline of the Assyrian kingdom (figure 37.1), which reached a nadir in the first half of the tenth century bc, and its subsequent revival during the late tenth and early ninth centuries bc.

37.1.1.  The sources Historical studies of this period can make use of various types of textual sources, and the most informative among these are the Assyrian royal inscriptions.2 It was during this period that the content and structure of these inscriptions underwent a major innovation. Most importantly, the so-​called annals came into use that structured information according to a king’s regnal years. From the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I onward, the accounts of the military activities, which had been appended to inscriptions commemorating buildings since the reign of Adad-​nerari I (1305–​ 1274 bc), were expanded in two ways: the lengthy annals that document military activities in chronological order, and the relatively short “summary inscriptions” (also dubbed “display inscriptions,” as they typically were used for visible texts inscribed on a monument) that provide only summaries of military activities, typically arranged by geographic principles.3 Furthermore, also from the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I onward,

2. Most of the royal inscriptions were systematically assembled and edited by Grayson 1991. New materials have been published since, most importantly from Assur by Frahm 2009. 3. On the typology of the Assyrian royal inscriptions, see Grayson 1980; De Odorico 1994; Jeffers 2013: 256–​321.

Figure 37.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 37. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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narratives focused on royal hunting could be inserted between the reports on military expeditions and building activities. Subsequent kings continued to commission such commemorative inscriptions, which were gradually standardized in their structure and wording. The reign of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc) saw a dramatic increase in the number of inscriptions, and ever-​longer commemorative inscriptions were commissioned, mainly because this king had them inscribed all over the buildings of his new capital city Kalhu (section 37.6.2). The commissioning of such inscriptions was never the exclusive monopoly of the Assyrian kings, as local rulers, too, had their own inscriptions composed, clearly imitating the conventions favored by the Assyrian kings and thus demonstrating their familiarity with these materials.4 Other textual sources contribute important information, too. The chronographic texts relating to this period, which were passed down to later generations by copying the manuscripts, include the Assyrian King List,5 the Synchronistic King List (juxtaposing Assyrian and Babylonian rulers),6 various eponym lists,7 a composition dubbed today the Synchronistic History (documenting events that brought Assyria and Babylonia together, either peacefully or in conflict), and other fragmentary Assyrian and Babylonian chronicle texts.8 In addition to establishing the chronology of the period, these texts make an important contribution to the study of Assyrian and Babylonian warfare and diplomacy. Furthermore, archival documents provide a wealth of information for the study of Assyrian society in the fourteenth to twelfth centuries bc and continue to be available in more limited numbers up to the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I (section 37.2). Lastly, manuscripts of various Sumerian

4. For the rulers of Ṭabete (modern Tell Taban), see Maul 1992; 2005; Shibata and Yamada 2009; for the rulers of Idu (modern Satu Qala), see van Soldt et al. 2013. 5. Grayson 1983: 112–​114: §§55–​69; Glassner 2004: 142–​145: iii 39–​iv 19. 6. Chen 2020. 7. Millard 1994. 8. Grayson 1975; Glassner 2004; Frahm 2009: nos. 59–61.

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and Akkadian compositions copied during this period have been found in Assur and elsewhere (section 37.7), and some of these contain compositions relating to specific kings of this period, such as prayers of blessing.

37.1.2.  Chronology: reigns, eponyms, and calendars The most important elements for counting time in the Assyrian kingdom were the reigns of the kings, the year eponyms (limmu), and the calendar. The order of the kings and the length of their regnal years during this period have been securely established, as these are recorded in the Assyrian King List, with no contradiction between the different manuscripts.9 The years were designated after the names of the specific men who held the position of limmu for a one-​year term. The exact order of the eponyms during this period has not yet been securely reconstructed. Only the eponyms serving after 910 bc, which corresponds to the second year of the reign of Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc), are fully covered by the extant manuscripts available for the canonical list of eponyms.10 As for the earlier eponyms, a large but fragmented list from Assur preserves some of their names from the end of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​ 1076 bc) to the beginning of the reign of Aššur-​dan II (934–​912 bc).11 For the earlier part of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I, researchers reconstruct the sequence by attempting to put the eponym years mentioned in administrative documents and royal inscriptions in order, but there are conflicting proposals, and full consensus has yet to be reached.12 The kings held the limmu office at some point early in their reign, as suggested by eponym lists such as the one from Assur that is divided into sections that begin with a royal eponym, and close with the grand

9. Grayson 1983: 112–​114: §§55–​69; Glassner 2004: 142–​145: iii 39–​iv 19. 10. Millard 1994: 23–​26. 11. Schroeder 1920: nos. 21+​22+​23+​24: iii–​v. 12. See especially Freydank 2016: 102–​129; Jeffers 2013: 80–​158, 357–​385.

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total of eponyms at the end of that king’s reign.13 The exact position of the royal limmu year in a particular reign is, however, debatable. For the late second millennium bc, it is generally assumed that the kings served as eponym in the first year of their reign.14 However, after the reign of Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) at the latest, kings held office in the second year of their reign; therefore, the sections of the eponym lists beginning with royal eponyms no longer correspond to the reigns of individual kings.15 As a recently published text suggests that Ashurnasirpal I (1049–​ 1031 bc) already held the position of eponym in the second year of his reign, this observation may well apply to the time before Adad-​nerari II (section 37.3.3). The calendar that had been in use in the city of Assur since the early second millennium bc was also employed by the administration of the Assyrian kingdom during the late second millennium bc. The tenure of an eponym corresponded to this Assyrian calendar, beginning in the first month of the year (Ṣippu). However, the months of the Assyrian calendar are only attested until around the thirtieth year of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I, and the Assyrian calendar appears to have been replaced by the Babylonian calendar by the end of his reign.16 Thereafter, the eponym years were counted using the Babylonian calendar until the fall of the Assyrian Empire. This calendar shift did not occur suddenly. The so-​called double datings (German Doppeldatierung), dating by both Assyrian months and the equivalent Babylonian months, are attested in archival documents and even one royal inscription from the very beginning of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign until the third decade of his reign, although the eponym years were still counted by the Assyrian calendar during this period.17 It is reasonable to assume that by the beginning of

13. Schroeder 1920: no. 21+​; for the editions, see Millard 1994: 7–​8. 14. See, e.g., Freydank 1991: 41; 2005: 50. 15. Poebel 1943: 76–​77; Millard 1994: 13. 16. Shibata and Yamada 2021: 182–​183 with note 72; Shibata 2022: 119–120. 17. The attestations were most recently assembled in Jeffers 2017: 154–​157; see also Freydank 1991: 82–​83.

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Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign, the Babylonian calendar was routinely consulted alongside the Assyrian calendar. This served as the groundwork for the eventual calendar reform.18 The critical point, which has long baffled researchers, is that the Assyrian and Babylonian months attested in the double datings do not correspond to each other; instead, the relationship between the two calendars appears to have gradually shifted over time. Researchers therefore assume that, unlike the calendar of Assur during the early second millennium bc, the Assyrian calendar as used during the reign of Tiglath-​ pileser I was a non-​intercalated lunar calendar that wandered through the solar year and was set “back” by one month in relation to the Babylonian calendar each time a leap month was added to the Babylonian calendar.19 Furthermore, it was suggested that the Assyrian calendar during the late second millennium bc may have been non-​intercalated even before the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I.20 In that case, the reign of the Assyrian kings up to Tiglath-​pileser I should be calculated based on a lunar year of around 354.36 days, which would be shorter than the conventional reign calculated based on the solar year.

37.2.  Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc) According to the Assyrian King List, Tiglath-​pileser I, son of Aššur-​ reša-​iši I, ascended the throne in succession of his father and reigned for thirty-​nine years.21 From the reign of Aššur-​reša-​iši I until the first half of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I, the Assyrian kingdom conducted a series of military campaigns in order to reconquer territories lost during the twelfth century bc in the course of the great migrations. These developments had destroyed or crippled the neighboring great powers, leaving

18. Shibata and Yamada 2021: 183–​184; Shibata 2022: 119–120. 19. Most recently Jeffers 2017: 153–​ 160. For an alternative interpretation, see Mahieu 2018. 20. Jeffers 2017: 160–​191. 21. Grayson 1983: 112: §55; Glassner 2004: 142–​143: iii 39.

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no region except for Babylonia in a position to counter the Assyrian incursions. Thus, the early part of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser saw the Assyrian kingdom in a position of great power. However, the gradual decline of Assyria began already later in his reign. The great turmoil of the migrations affected all of Western Asia and gradually came to erode Assyrian territorial control as well. Most importantly, raids by armed nomadic tribes, the Arameans, spread from the west into Assyrian territory. Tiglath-​pileser I left a number of inscriptions, including commemorative inscriptions, mostly in the capital city of Assur, but also in Nineveh and other places. In the sixth year of his reign (ca. 1109 bc), he commissioned a lengthy inscription of 809 lines.22 While commemorating his building of the joint temple for the sky god Anu and the weather god Adad in Assur, this text appears to record the king’s activities from the year of his accession to his fifth regnal year in chronological order, although they are not explicitly dated except for the year of his accession.23 This inscription represents the first example of the annalistic type of Assyrian royal inscriptions. Tiglath-​pileser commissioned another version of the annals in the eleventh year of his reign (ca. 1104 bc).24 According to a passage in its latter part, this version of his annals recorded events from the first ten years of his reign,25 although we can only reconstruct a summary of the activities until the fifth year of his reign, as described in the previous version. In the latter half of his reign, the king commissioned several versions of summary inscriptions.26 The first version was composed in the eponym year of Ninuayu (ca. 1094 or 1092 bc),27 and another version was

22. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1; Frahm 2009: nos. 3–5. 23. De Odorico 1994: 74–​84. 24. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.2; Frahm 2009: no. 12. 25. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.2: ll. 5′–​6′; see De Odorico 1994: 76. 26. De Odorico 1994: 85–​102. 27. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3. For this eponym year, which is estimated to be around the twentieth year of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I, there are two proposals for identification: the twenty-​first year, ca. 1094 bc: Freydank 1991: 87; 2016: 122; Llop 2008: 181; and the twenty-​third year, ca. 1092 bc: Jeffers 2013: 120–​128.

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drawn up in the eponym year of Taklak-​ana-​Aššur (sometime between 1093 and 1088 bc).28 Furthermore, he commissioned several variations of these summary texts for use in Assur,29 Nineveh,30 and finally in Pakute (likely Tell Basmusiyan in the Raniya Plain) in the thirty-​sixth year of his reign (ca. 1079 bc).31 In addition to the characteristic clay prisms that were used for the first time in his reign (necessary in order to accommodate the lengthy annals), his inscriptions were engraved on bricks as well as stone monuments (including wall reliefs and a type of free-​standing ashlar dubbed “obelisk” in modern research).32 Furthermore, he also had inscriptions carved on natural rock faces during his expeditions, such as on a rock wall inside the so-​called Tigris Tunnel at Bırkleyn,33 and on a rock wall near the modern village of Yoncalı, northeast of Lake Van.34 Some inscriptions found at Assur and Nineveh are generally attributed to Aššur-​bel-​kala but were in fact probably also commissioned by Tiglath-​pileser I, most notably the so-​called Broken Obelisk, whose inscription does not retain the name of the commissioning king

28. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4 (for ex. 8, 13, and 14, see Frahm 2009: nos. 6 and 7); for a new edition of ll. 24–​30, see Frahm 2009: 30–​31. For the eponym year of Taklak-​ ana-​Aššur, see Freydank 2016: 78 with note 181, 128; Jeffers 2013: 120–​128. 29. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ex. 22 and ex. 23–​24 (now Frahm 2009: nos. 8–​11) and also the fragments Grayson 1991: A.0.87.5–​9. Some further fragments might also be attributed to this king: Greyson 1991: A.0.87.1001–​1006 and 1008–​1025; Frahm 2009: nos. 51 and 55. 30. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.10 and 11; see also another fragmentary inscription: Grayson 1991: A.0.87.12–​14. 31. Frame 2011: nos. 68, 69. For their provenance, see Eidem 2018. 32. Bricks: Grayson 1991: A.0.87.22–​28; orthostats: Lundström and Orlamünde 2011: 44–​87, and cf. 14–​19 (=​Grayson 1991: A.0.87.17–​20 and A.0.87.29); obelisk: Orlamünde 2011: 17–​25, pls. 1–​10 (“Typ I”); Frahm apud Orlamünde 2011: 59–​62, 71; Shibata 2022: 124–126. 33. Radner 2009: 173–​179. For a previous edition, which however had to rely on the problematic early work on this rock inscription, without the possibility to collate the text, see Grayson 1991: A.0.87.15. 34. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.16.

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Figure 37.2.  The so-​called Broken Obelisk from Nineveh, likely a monument from the late reign of Tiglath-​pileser I. British Museum, ANE 118898. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​ N C-​ SA 4.0) license.

(figure 37.2).35 The inscription on the Broken Obelisk preserves part of the accounts of the author-​king’s military activities, which are documented in chronological order, dated by Babylonian months and Assyrian eponyms. The Broken Obelisk is generally attributed to Aššur-​bel-​kala, mainly because the eponym Aššur-​ra’im-​nišešu is mentioned in its annalistic accounts and also in the date formula of a fragment of an inscription of Aššur-​bel-​kala.36 However, recent studies have demonstrated the existence of an eponym with that name who served as limmu in the

35. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7. 36. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: iii 3; A.0.89.4: rev. 1′; cf. Borger 1961: 140; Brinkman 1968: 383.

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third decade of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign.37 In addition, Ili-​iddina, who is mentioned as eponym after Aššur-​ra’im-​nišešu in the Broken Obelisk, is also mentioned in the administrative documents kept in the archive of the stewards, and this archive has now been recognized as ending with the end of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign at the latest.38 When considering the relationship between the Babylonian and Assyrian calendars, the dates of the eponym years of Aššur-​ra’im-​nišešu and Ili-​iddina, which began in the ninth month of the Babylonian calendar (i.e., the month Kislimu), can be assigned to around the twenty-fourth to twenty-​eighth year of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I (ca. 1091–​1087 bc).39 Furthermore, the gift of exotic animals by an Egyptian king mentioned in the Broken Obelisk is also documented in the summary inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I composed in the eponym year of Taklak-​ana-​Aššur.40 All these observations indicate that the Broken Obelisk and its inscription were created near the end of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign. In addition, some other very fragmentary inscriptions should probably also be attributed to this king.41 Beyond his royal inscriptions, various events that occurred during Tiglath-​pileser’s reign were documented in literary or chronographic forms. Hence, an account of his expeditions to the mountainous regions of the northeast was written in the style of an epic poem.42 Fragments of Assyrian chronicles have been found that record events occurring during his reign,43 while the so-​called Synchronistic

37. Freydank 2016: 128 dated the eponym to the cluster of the twenty-​second to twenty-​seventh regnal years (ca. 1093–​1088 bc); see also Prechel and Freydank 2014: 9–​10; Mahieu 2018: 80–​81; Shibata 2022: 111–112. 38. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: iii 20; Prechel and Freydank 2014: nos. 68 and 90, cf. p. 10; Mahieu 2018: 82; Shibata 2022: 112. 39. Cf. Brinkman 1968: 385–​386; Jeffers 2017: 154–​160; Shibata 2022: 112–117. 40. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: iv 29–​30; Frahm 2009: 30: ll. 27–​28 (cf. A.0.87.4: ll. 27–​28); Shibata 2022: 121–122. 41. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.6 and 9; Frahm 2009: no. 13; see Shibata 2022: 123. 42. Ebeling 1953: no. 63; for an edition, see Hurowitz and Goodnick Westenholz 1990. 43. Grayson 1975: 189; Glassner 2004: 188–​189; Freydank and Feller 2004: no. 80; Frahm 2009: nos. 59–​60, cf. pp. 114–115.

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History records the wars between Assyria and Babylonia during his reign.44 Until around the thirtieth year of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I, archival documents continue to be found at the capital city of Assur. In particular, the archive of the stewards (Assyrian masennu) and the archive of the offerings house in the temple of the god Aššur, found in groups of ceramic containers, contain a series of documents dating from the twelfth century bc to the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I.45 In addition, during the excavations at the site of Giricano in the upper valley of the Tigris, another such clay vessel was found containing a dozen archival texts recording local activities in a fortified farmstead named Dunnu-​ ša-​Uzibi, which must have been located at Giricano.46 Most of the texts from Giricano date to the above-​mentioned eponym year of Ili-​iddina.47 Finally, a collection of edicts issued by various kings in order to regulate life at the royal court was compiled during the reign of Tiglath-​pileser. The collection ends with his own edicts, and one of the manuscripts is dated to an eponym of the third decade of his reign, Sin-​apla-​iddina.48

37.2.1.  Tiglath-​pileser I’s military activities The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I and the chronicle texts provide details of his military activities. These can be divided into military campaigns in the hilly and mountainous regions to the north and east of

44. Grayson 1975: 164–​165: ii 14′–​24′; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: ii 14′′–​24′′. 45. For the first archive, see Pedersén 1985: 68–​81; Postgate 2013: 147–​176; Prechel and Freydank 2014. On the latter archives, see Pedersén 1985: 42–​53; Postgate 2013: 89–​146. 46. Radner 2004. 47. Only one document is dated to a different eponym: Radner 2004: no. 14: l. 21: PNBU-​x[ . . . ], and this name can be restored as Bunanu (PNbu-​n[a-​nu]), likely dated to the thirteenth year of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I (ca. 1085 bc); see Shibata 2022: 117–119. 48. Weidner 1954–​1956. On the date of the eponym Sin-​apla-​iddina, see Freydank 2016: 128.

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the Assyrian heartland, an expedition to the Mediterranean, wars against Babylonia, and armed conflicts with the Arameans. In the following, we will briefly summarize these activities, except for the conflicts with the Arameans, which are discussed separately in section 37.2.2. From his accession to the fifth year of his reign, Tiglath-​pileser’s military concerns were directed exclusively to the northern and eastern regions, except for a battle with the Arameans in the fourth year of his reign, according to the two early versions of his annals.49 The destinations of the expeditions included Katmuhu in the hilly plains southeast of the Tur Abdin range (in Assyrian, Mount Kašiyari); the plains of the upper Tigris valley and its surrounding mountainous regions; the regions of Muṣru (modern Jebel Maqlub) and Qumanu (north and east of the plains of modern Alqosh)50 that lie to the northeast of Nineveh; the hilly upper reaches of the Upper and the Lower Zab rivers; and the lands of Nairi, which at that time referred to the northern mountain regions and included the area around Lake Van (unlike during the tenth and ninth centuries bc). Most of these areas were either former Assyrian provinces, such as Katmuhu,51 or the territories of former tributary states, such as Purulumzi in the northern reaches of the Tigris and Alzi in the modern region of Elazıǧ.52 These regions had all broken free of Assyrian domination during the twelfth century bc. Expeditions to the northern regions were carried out in the year of Tiglath-​pileser’s accession and the first year of his reign. The Assyrian ruler led the army to Katmuhu, where he defeated the Mušku, who are said in his inscriptions to have ruled Alzi and Purulumzi for fifty years after having invaded the area.53 Moreover, he crushed the local resistance of Katmuhu, fending off its reinforcements from mountainous Paphu, a

49. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: i 62–​vi 48; A.0.87.2: ll. 18–​36. 50. Radner 2008b. 51. Llop 2012a: 102; 2015: 258–​261. 52. Llop 2015: 250–​253. On the location of Alzi, see Radner 2006: 145–​147. 53. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: i 62–​88; A.0.87.2: ll. 18–​20; see Fuchs 2000: 89–​90; Radner 2006.

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region presumably located southwest of Lake Van.54 After another attack on Katmuhu, the region was reannexed by Assyria.55 The Assyrian army also invaded the land of Šubru (also known as Šubria), which took up the area north of the Upper Tigris valley, subjugating also Alzi, Purulumzi, and other adjoining lands that had stopped paying tribute to Assyria.56 In the second year of his reign, Tiglath-​pileser campaigned in the mountainous regions of the upper reaches of the Upper and the Lower Zab rivers, including the land of Haria.57 In the course of this expedition, the Assyrian army also crossed over to the southern bank of the Lower Zab, conquering the mountain lands of Murattaš and Saradauš,58 and then went on to invade the mountainous region of Sugu, whose name was given as Lullumu in a later version of Tiglath-​pileser’s annals, an archaic designation going back to the toponym Lullubum of the third millennium bc that was used for the Shahrizor Plain and the surrounding mountain ranges (later corresponding to Zamua/​Mazamua).59 Since the inhabitants of Sugu had stubbornly resisted, the Assyrians punished them by taking the statues of twenty-​five local deities to the city of Assur, where they were used as the “gatekeepers” of the temples of the major gods.60 After having successfully subdued the areas bordering the Assyrian heartland, Tiglath-​pileser I launched in the third year of his reign a bold 54. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: i 89–​ii 84. On Paphu, which is identified with Papanha as mentioned in the Hittite sources and Babanahe-​of the later Urartian texts, see Fuchs 2000: 89 with note 71; Wilhelm 2005; Cancik-​Kirschbaum and Hess 2016: 107–​108. 55. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iii 7–​31. A fragmentary chronicle records the king’s visit to Katmuhu at the end of his reign (Glassner 2004: 190–​191: l. 13′). This may not have been a new expedition to Katmuhu but rather the king’s evacuation from a critical situation in the heartland; see Brinkman 1968: 388. 56. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: ii 89–​iii 6; A.0.87.2: ll. 21–​22. 57. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iii 35–​91; see Fuchs 2000: 90. 58. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iii 92–​iv 4. 59. On Lullum/​bu, see Nashef 1982: 188–​189; Klengel 1990; Radner 2018a: 211; Bagg 2020: 376–​377. 60. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iv 23–​24, 32–​39; A.0.87.2: ll. 23–​24.

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expedition to the Nairi lands to the northeast of Assyria, in and beyond the area of Lake Van.61 Crossing sixteen mountains in order to reach Lake Van, his army penetrated deep into the Nairi lands, and then moved west from the northern shore of Lake Van, eventually reaching and crossing the upper reaches of the Euphrates.62 Although the kings of twenty-​ three (and in the later version of the annals, thirty) lands from Tumme to Dayeni intercepted the Assyrian army on its way, the Assyrians succeeded in subduing them, forcing the captured kings to swear allegiance to Tiglath-​pileser.63 Among the Nairi lands conquered by the Assyrian forces, Dayeni, which is located in the northwest of Lake Van and which also appears in later inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) and elsewhere, appears to have been the most powerful.64 Its king Seni was taken in shackles to Assur, where he was later released in order “to proclaim the glory of the great gods.”65 In the course of this expedition, Melid (or Milidia; modern Arslantepe), the center of a powerful regional state situated on the western bank of the upper Euphrates, surrendered to Tiglath-​pileser out of fear of the Assyrian army.66 According to later summaries of his campaigns, the king carried out two further expeditions to Nairi.67 That these large-​scale campaigns into the Anatolian highlands took place is demonstrated by inscriptions that Tiglath-​pileser had engraved on a rock wall near the modern village of Yoncalı north of Lake Van and on a wall inside the so-​called Tigris Tunnel at Bırkleyn, where he also left a depiction of himself.68

61. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iv 43–​v 41; A.0.87.2: ll. 25–​27. 62. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iv 58–​71. 63. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iv 71–​v 21; A.0.87.2: ll. 25–​27. 64. On Dayeni, see Cancik-​Kirschbaum and Hess 2016: 38; Bagg 2020: 167–​168. 65. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1 v 22–​32. 66. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1 v 33–​41. 67. E.g. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 6–​15; A.0.87.4: ll. 15–​17. 68. Bırkleyn: Radner 2009: 173–​179; for a previous edition, but without the possibility to collate the text, see Grayson 1991: A.0.87.15. Yoncalı: Grayson 1991: A.0.87.16.

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In his fifth year, Tiglath-​pileser turned his gaze to the northeast, and the Assyrian army attacked Muṣru as well as Qumanu, which had aided Muṣru.69 After conquering the fortress Hunusa, the Assyrian army also seized Kipšuna, the royal city of Qumanu. This battle, which took place much closer to the Assyrian homeland than the Nairi expedition, was made the subject of a heroic epic composed in honor of the king.70 Tiglath-​pileser I was the first Assyrian king to mount an expedition to the Mediterranean Sea and to Mount Lebanon. The summary inscription that was edited in the eponym year of Ninuayu proudly describes this glorious achievement, and the account is repeated in greater detail in a later summary inscription edited in the eponym year of Taklak-​ana-​Aššur.71 Since this campaign does not seem to be mentioned in the only fragmentarily preserved summary of the king’s military achievements during the first ten years of his reign,72 we can assume that it took place sometime between his eleventh regnal year and the eponym year of Ninuayu, i.e., during the second decade of his reign (ca. 1104–​1095 bc). His inscriptions boast that the Assyrian king sailed from the island of Arwad into the open sea, where he hunted a marine animal called nāḫiru (either a hippopotamus or possibly a dolphin, as the Assyrian term implies that the creature “snorts”).73 After returning to Assur, Tiglath-​pileser had stone replicas of the beast made and placed them at the entrance of his palace.74 The Assyrian expedition to the Mediterranean coast appears to have had an impact as far away as Egypt. An Egyptian ruler, probably Rameses XI (1099–​1069 bc),

69. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: v 67–​vi 38; A.0.87.2: ll. 30–​36. 70. Hurowitz and Goodnick Westenholz 1990. 71. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 16–​25; A.0.87.4: ll. 24–​30, 59–​76. For A.0.87.4: ll. 24–​30, see Frahm 2009: 30–​31. 72. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.2: ll. 5′–​8′. 73. For the identification as a hippopotamus, see Bordreuil and Briquel Chatonnet 2000. 74. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 21–​25; A.0.87.4: ll. 67–​71; A.0.89.7: iv 1–​3; see section 37.2.3.

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presented Tiglath-​pileser I with several exotic animals, including a crocodile and a large female monkey,75 which were illustrated on the fragment of an obelisk commissioned by the Assyrian king.76 One of the most important achievements of this campaign was that precious woods were brought back for the construction of the Anu-​Adad temple and other buildings in Assur.77 Since Tukulti-​Ninurta I of Assyria (1243–​1207 bc) had invaded Babylonia, a series of wars took place between Assyria and Babylonia throughout the twelfth century bc, with the region east of the Tigris and south of the Lower Zab serving as the principal battleground (­chapter 32 in volume 3). Continuing this long-​standing struggle, a series of battles took place between the forces of Tiglath-​pileser I and Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe of Babylonia (1099–​1082 bc), as revealed by various sources.78 According to the summary inscriptions of Tiglath-​ pileser I, the Assyrian and Babylonian armies clashed in the subsequent eponym years of Aššur-​šuma-​eriš and Ninuayu (dated to 1095–​1094 bc, or 1093–​1092 bc).79 Perhaps the Babylonian army struck first against Assyria, as suggested by later narratives regarding the looting of the cult images of the storm god Adad and his consort Šala from the city of Ekallatum by Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe, to which a much later 75. Frahm 2009: 30–​31; Grayson 1991: A0.89.7: iv 29–​30; Shibata 2022: 121–122. 76. Orlamünde 2011: 24, pls. 8–9 (I. 18), 53, pl. 49 (BM. 1); cf. Russell 2017b: 476; Shibata 2022: 124–126. 77. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 16–​18; A.0.87.4: ll. 24–​26, 59–​66, and 72–​76. 78. These sources are: the summary inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I (Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ll. 37–​51 and its parallels, especially Grayson 1991: A.0.87.10: ll. 36–​53 and Frame 2011: no. 68: ll. 24–​48); the Bavian inscription of Sennacherib of Assyria (704–​681 bc; Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 223: ll. 48–​50); the Synchronistic History (col. ii 14′′–​24′′; editions: Grayson 1975: 164–​ 165; Glassner 2004: 180–​ 181); a Babylonian chronicle (Glassner 2004: 282–​ 283: Chronicle 25: ll. 19–​26); as well as an archival document from Assur (Llop 2003: A. 1123). For a review of these sources, see Brinkman 1968: 124–​130; Fuchs 2011: 258–​260; Jeffers 2013: 212–​255. 79. Grayson 1991: A.0.97.4: ll. 49–​51 with parallels. The Synchronistic History (ii 14′′–​17′′) also records the two battles between Assyria and Babylonia: Grayson 1975: 164; Glassner: 2004: 180–​181.

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inscription of Sennacherib of Assyria (704–​681 bc) makes reference.80 The sudden outbreak of war in the eponym year of Aššur-​šuma-​eriš may have been the result of the Assyrian counterattack. According to the Synchronistic History, the Assyrian army, including a chariot unit, fought the Babylonian army on the Lower Zab opposite the city of Arzuhina (perhaps to be identified with Gök Tepe), i.e., on the river’s northern bank.81 The Assyrian army appears to have won this battle, as the summary inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser praised him for successfully conquering the region south of the Lower Zab and even crossing the Adhaim River (ancient Radanu) to march beyond the foothills of two mountains called Kamulla and Kaštilla.82 According to the summary inscription from Pakute, the Assyrian army took a detour on the way back from Babylonia to march up the Euphrates in order to raid the land of Suhu.83 Two Assyrian princes appear to have lost their lives in the course of the war against Babylonia in the eponym year of Aššur-​šuma-​ eriš, as documented in an archival text.84 This incident may have led Tiglath-​pileser to take thorough revenge on Babylonia. In the following eponym year of Ninuayu, the Assyrian army raided northern Babylonia, sacking its cities, including Dur-​Kurigalzu, Sippar, and Babylon, and even burned down the palace of Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe in Babylon.85 As documented by the summary inscription from Pakute,

80. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 223: ll. 48–​50; cf. Beaulieu 2018: 164–​165. 81. Grayson 1975: 164: ii 14′′–​16′′; Glassner: 2004: 180–​181: ii 14′′–​16′′. On Arzuhina and its likely identification with Gök Tepe, see Mühl 2013: 205, 210–​ 211, 225; Bagg 2017: 72–​74; Radner 2018b. 82. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ll. 37–​40; A.0.87.10: ll. 36–​40; Frame 2011: no. 68: ll. 24–​27. 83. Frame 2011: no. 68: ll. 28–​33; see also Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ll. 41–​43; A.0.87.10: ll. 41–​44; and the Synchronistic History: ii 24′′ (Grayson 1975: 164; Glassner 2004: 180–​181). 84. Llop 2003; cf. Jeffers 2013: 233–​238. 85. Grayson 1991: A.0.97.4: ll. 44–​49; Synchronistic History: ii 17′′–​21′′ (Grayson 1975: 164; Glassner 2004: 180–​181).

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Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe attempted a counterattack to avenge this defeat and fought the Assyrian army in a city called Šitula (possibly modern Tikrit), situated on the Tigris upstream of the city of Akkad. However, this attack was unsuccessful, as the Babylonian army was forced to retreat.86 This battle can probably be identified with the battle at Gurmarritu (also Sur-​marrati; modern Samarra), as documented in the Synchronistic History.87 The military confrontations between the two kingdoms were apparently inconclusive, as the annalistic account inscribed on the Broken Obelisk records yet more fighting in northern Babylonia for the eponym year of Aššur-​ra’im-​nišešu,88 which can be dated to the twenty-fourth or twenty-​seventh year of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign (ca. 1091–1088 bc; see section 37.2). In the course of this conflict, the Assyrian army conquered cities in the Babylonian province of Dur-​Kurigalzu, and even succeeded in capturing its governor Kadašman-​Buriaš. A Babylonian kudurru document records that in the tenth year of the reign of Marduk-​nadin-​ ahhe,89 he granted land to his servant who had distinguished himself in the “victory over Assyria.”90 This likely refers to one of the confrontations with Tiglath-​pileser’s forces, although it is unclear to which specific battle. Soon after, Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe passed away, in the fourth decade of his antagonist Tiglath-​pileser’s reign.91

86. Frame 2011: no. 68: ll. 42–​48. On Šitula =​Old Babylonian Šitullum, see Ziegler and Langlois 2016: 340–​341. 87. Grayson 1975: 164; Glassner: 2004: 180–​181: ii 17′′. Cf. Frame 2011: 133; Beaulieu 2018: 167. On the location, see Bagg 2017: 545. 88. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: iii 4–​8. 89. For the chronology of his reign, see Brinkman 1967: 68–​77 with pl. II; Jeffers 2013: 247–​255; Beaulieu 2018: 154–​155. 90. Paulus 2014: 544: especially col. i 5, 27–​28. Note also that an Assyrian prince appears in the witness list of this document: Paulus 2014: 545: ii 26–​27. He was likely a son of Tiglath-​pileser I, although it is unclear why he was part of Babylonian court society. See also ­chapter 41 in this volume. 91. Grayson 1975: 189: ll. 8′–9′; Glassner 2004: 188–189: ll. 8′–9′.

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37.2.2.  The Aramean threat and the beginnings of Assyria’s decline The aggressive military activities conducted in the first half of Tiglath-​ pileser I’s reign did not result in stable territorial expansion. On the contrary, toward the latter part of his reign, the structures of Assyrian territorial governance gradually began to crumble. A major factor was the drawn-​out conflicts with the armed nomadic tribes that the Assyrian sources designate as Ahlamû-Aramāyu, or Arumû, i.e., the Arameans.92 The tension between the Arameans and the cities under Assyrian rule had gradually intensified from the reign of Aššur-​reša-​iši I (1132–​1115 bc) to the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I. According to the two earliest versions of Tiglath-​pileser’s annals, the Assyrian army fought the Arameans in his fourth year (1111 bc) on the bank of the Euphrates and even crossed over to its western bank while chasing the fleeing Aramean forces.93 Thereafter, according to the summary inscriptions composed in the latter half of his reign, Tiglath-​pileser crossed the Euphrates in pursuit of the Arameans twice a year in the course of fighting them in a large area that stretched from the oasis of Tadmur (Palmyra) in the center of the Syrian Desert to the cities of Anat and Rapiqu, which are situated on the Euphrates in the region of the modern border of Syria and Iraq.94 The threat emanating from these mobile warrior bands is also apparent in sources beyond the Assyrian documentation. An Assyrian client kingdom known as the land of Mari had flourished in the Khabur valley under the rule of a local dynasty since the thirteenth century bc at the latest.95 One of this dynasty’s rulers, Aššur-​ketta-​lešir II, commissioned a number of building inscriptions in the second decade of Tiglath-​pileser

92. Ahlamû-Aramāyu: e.g., Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: v 46–​47; A.0.87.3: ll. 29–​30; A.0.87.4: ll. 34; Arumû: e.g., A.0.89.7 (passim); Zadok 2017: 316: l. 7. On the Arameans, see Younger 2016: 167–​184 (especially on the conflicts between the Assyrians and Arameans during the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I); Fales 2017: 145–​150. 93. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: ll. 44–​63; A.0.87.2: ll. 28–​29. 94. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 29–​35; A.0.87.4: ll. 34–​36. 95. Shibata 2012.

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I’s reign, in the period of about 1104–​1095 bc,96 and these indicate that the land of Mari was being threatened at the time by nomadic tribes. To prepare for this threat, Aššur-​ketta-​lešir II reinforced the defenses of his capital city of Ṭabete (modern Tell Taban), while also building additional fortresses at strategic points of traffic in his territory.97 Importantly, one of Aššur-​ketta-​lešir’s inscriptions shows that the nomadic tribes who rampaged through the territory of the Assyrian kingdom included not only the Arameans but also the Chaldeans, who became a major political force in Babylonia during the early first millennium bc.98 Although the Chaldeans do not appear at all in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I, an expedition against them is mentioned in an administrative document issued early in his reign in the eponym year of Hayašayu.99 The Aramean pressure on Assyria grew with each passing year. The annalistic accounts preserved in the Broken Obelisk record battles against the Arameans throughout the Assyrian territory in the eponym years of Aššur-​ ra’im-​ nišešu and Ili-​ iddina, corresponding to the twenty-fourth to twenty-​eighth year of Tiglath-​pileser’s reign (i.e., 1091–​1087 bc).100 The battlefields were situated not only on the Assyrian border along the Euphrates, but also much deeper inside the Assyrian-​controlled territory, such as in the Khabur region, and concerned the Assyrian provinces as well as small client kingdoms, such as the above-​mentioned land of Mari. The Assyrian army tried to suppress the Aramean aggression by playing a game of cat and mouse but became gradually stuck in the mire of warfare. The situation became ever more critical in the last years of Tiglath-​pileser’s reign, as documented in a fragment of an Assyrian chronicle. In the year when the Babylonian king Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe passed away (1082 bc), the Aramean tribes,

96. Maul 1992; 2005; Shibata and Yamada 2009; Zadok 2017. 97. Shibata and Yamada 2009: 93–​94; Shibata 2011: 99–​101. 98. Zadok 2017: 316: ll. 6–​7. See also ­chapter 41 in this volume. 99. Freydank 1976: no. 10; for an edition, see Prechel and Freydank 2014: 110–​112. 100. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: iii 1–​32.

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designated as the “Houses of the Arameans,” plundered Assyrian settlements and even destroyed parts of Assyrian cities, forcing the Assyrian population to flee into the hilly region of Habriuru (likely corresponding to the modern Harir plain).101 Furthermore, in a later year in his reign, numerous Arameans are documented as striking and plundering regions along the Tigris, including that of Nineveh, as well as Kilizu (modern Qasr Shamamok) and Idu (modern Satu Qala) in the land east of the Tigris.102 The crisis in the second half of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign is also evident in his building activities, as there would seem to be a link with his reinforcing the walls of Assur and Nineveh, as commemorated in his summary inscriptions from the latter half of his reign:103 the Aramean threat appears to have been closing in even on the cities in the Assyrian heartland. The archive of the offerings house in the temple of Aššur provides some clues regarding the administration of Assyrian territories during this critical situation, as the archive kept records concerning the management of foodstuffs that had to be regularly supplied by the Assyrian provinces as offerings at the temple of Aššur (­chapter 32 in volume 3). Recent studies on the eponyms during the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I demonstrate that these archival documents continued to be issued until the middle of his reign, proving that the Assyrian provincial system was functioning until this time, at least to some extent.104 The archive’s last document is dated to the third decade of Tiglath-​pileser’s reign,105 and the archive does not include any documents written in any

101. Grayson 1975: 189: ll. 2′–​9′; Glassner 2004: 188–​189: ll. 2′–​9′. 102. Grayson 1975: 189: ll. 10′–​13′; Glassner 2004: 188–​191: ll. 10′–​13′. 103. Assur: Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 36–​44; Nineveh: Grayson 1991: A.0.87.10: ll. 54–​62. 104. Freydank 2016: 102–​129. The records from the later years of the archive include those directly related to the supply of goods from the provinces: Freydank 1976: no. 25 (Idu); 1994: no. 29 (Šudu). 105. The latest document is probably Freydank and Feller 2007: no. 46, dated to the eponym year of Sakipšunu; cf. Freydank 2016: 120–​122.

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of the eponym years corresponding to the last eleven years of his rule.106 While it is difficult to determine with certainty why these records stopped, it is plausible to assume that the provinces were no longer able to provide the necessary supplies at that time,107 especially considering what we otherwise know about the political situation in the latter half of Tiglath-​pileser’s reign. However, Assyrian settlements still continued over a large area, even after the records in the archive from Assur stopped. Thus, the legal documents found in Giricano (ancient Dunnu-​ša-​Uzibi) in the upper Tigris valley prove that this fortified farmstead on the northern frontier of Assyria was still functioning at the end of the third decade of Tiglath-​ pileser’s reign, although there was clearly economic uncertainty (especially concerning the labor force needed to bring in the harvest) as some people left the settlement to go “into the mountains.”108 Nevertheless, the Assyrian territorial governance established in the fourteenth and thirteenth centuries bc, which was based on provinces and spread out like an “oil stain,” to use an image coined by Mario Liverani,109 seems to have been gradually lost in the eleventh century bc. Perhaps the third decade of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign marks a turning point in this process.

37.2.3.  Tiglath-​pileser I’s building works Tiglath-​pileser I carried out extensive building work on palaces, temples, and defensive structures in Assur and also in Nineveh, which had already become Assyria’s second political center alongside Assur in the reign of his predecessor Aššur-​reša-​iši I (1132–​1115 bc).110 Tiglath-​pileser

106. The names of these eponyms are partially preserved in a fragmentary eponym list from Assur: Schroeder 1920: no. 21+​: iii 1′–​11′. 107. Freydank 2016: 123–​124. 108. Radner 2004. On the date of the archive, see section 37.2. 109. Liverani 1988: 84–​86; cf. also Postgate 1992: 255–​256. 110. For an overview of his architectural activities and the main relevant literature, see Russell 2017a: 433–​434.

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(re)built several palaces in Nineveh and surrounded them with magnificent orchards, which were watered by the Khosr river that flows west of the settlement mound of Kuyunjik, the heart of the ancient city.111 In Assur, the king planted similar orchards,112 and he also rebuilt the so-​ called Old Palace on a large scale:113 his inscriptions mention the placing of statues of mountain and sea animals and human-​faced bulls at the entrances of this palace,114 set up as gatekeepers just like the eleven mythical monsters of the demons Tiamat and Anzu that had defied the gods and were made the gatekeepers of sanctuaries after they had been defeated.115 According to his inscriptions, the king also had the palace’s interior walls lined with orthostats of various stones,116 and indeed, a number of such orthostat fragments, inscribed with his inscriptions, have been found during excavations.117 With the construction of his palaces, he created a template for the Northwest Palace later built by Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc) in his new capital Kalhu.118 Tiglath-​pileser was also engaged in the construction of temples, including the double temple for Anu and Adad at Assur, whose construction appears to have been initiated already by Aššur-​reša-​iši I.119

111. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.10: ll. 63–​88, 71–​75; A.0.87.27. 112. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: v 20–​23; A.0.87.1: vii 17–​27. 113. Pedde and Lundström 2008: 32–​37, 166–​177. 114. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ll. 67–​71; A.0.89.7: ll. 16–​19. Tiglath-​pileser also placed statues at his palace in Nineveh: Grayson 1991: A.0.87.11: rev. 9′–​18′. 115. Maul 2000a. 116. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ll. 63–​65. His other palaces also are said to have been decorated with such slabs: Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ll. 74–​75 (Assur). 117. Lundström and Orlamünde 2011. 118. Kertai 2015: 14–​15. 119. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1 vii 60–​114; see also Werner 2016: 12–​26.

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37.2.4.  A failed attempt to restore the country Tiglath-pileser I claimed to have restored the country that had been devastated during the “hard years” of the twelfth century bc, as documented in the first version of his annals: I rebuilt and completed the palaces, the royal residences of the large settlements in the various districts of my whole land, which since the reign of my forefathers during the hard years had been abandoned, dilapidated, and destroyed. I restored the weakened fortification of my land. I caused plows to be hitched up all over Assyria and thereby piled up more grain than my forefathers.120 Indeed, the last version of Tiglath-​pileser’s annals, as recorded on the Broken Obelisk, referred to the construction of provincial palaces in various places such as Apku (modern Tell Abu Maryam), which was located about 40 km west of Nineveh and functioned as an important stop on the road from Nineveh west toward the Khabur valley along the southern foothills of the Jebel Sinjar.121 Toward the end of his reign, he fortified the city of Pakute (probably Tell Basmusiyan on the Raniya plain), situated on the Lower Zab in the frontier region to the east, as commemorated in a summary inscription that was composed in the eponym year of Aššur-​ša’issunu (1079 bc).122 Furthermore, according to a later inscription of Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc),123 Tiglath-​pileser

120. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1 vi 94–​104. 121. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7 v 32–​35; cf. Bagg 2017: 49; Cancik-​Kirschbaum and Hess 2016: 15–​16. For provincial palaces functioning as centers of the local administration, see Postgate 2005: 218–​219. 122. Frame 2011: nos. 68 and 69. On the possible provenance of these inscriptions, which were bought on the antiquities market, from Tell Basmusiyan, see Eidem 2018. 123. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 35–​40.

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had also built two western frontier fortresses in the great bend of the Euphrates: Pitru (likely Tell Aushariye) and Mutkinu (perhaps Tell Abir).124 When Tiglath-​pileser claims to have sought to restore the land of Assyria, the great military expeditions undertaken in the first half of his reign should be regarded as part of this effort. Ultimately, however, these efforts faltered in the face of increasing turmoil. Nevertheless, at least the western fortresses Pitru and Mutkinu survived until the reign of Aššur-​rabi II (1012–​972 bc), according to the later testimony of Shalmaneser III. It appears that even once the control over the territories outside the Assyrian heartland was no longer effective, such fortified outposts in strategic locations were able to survive for a considerable time as enclaves within the former Assyrian sphere of influence.

37.3.  The successors of Tiglath-​pileser I: from Ašared-​apil-​Ekur to Ashurnasirpal I The aggressions against Assyria that started during the reign of Tiglath-​ pileser I worsened during the reigns of succeeding kings. It has therefore been argued that after Tiglath-​pileser, the Assyrian kingdom fell into a period of serious decline for about 150 years until the reign of Aššur-​ dan II (934–​912 bc), when the Assyrian army began to reconquer the lost territory. However, according to the available textual sources, the Assyrian forces continued to counter, and were able to withstand, the attacks until the reign of Ashurnasirpal I (883–​859 bc), and therefore, the time from Ašared-​apil-​Ekur (1075–​1074 bc) to Ashurnasirpal I (883–​859 bc) must be considered separately from the succeeding period of decline, which begins only with the reign of Shalmaneser II (1030–​ 1019 bc).

124. On Mutkinu and Pitru, see Bagg 2007: 180 and 191, respectively. Tiglathpileser’s conquest of Pitru may be recorded in two fragmentary inscriptions: Grayson 1991: A.0.89.6: 12′–13′; A.0.89.9: 6′–8′.

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37.3.1.  Ašared-​apil-​Ekur (1075–​1074 bc) and Aššur-​bel-​kala (1073–​1056 bc) Tiglath-​pileser I was succeeded by his son Ašared-​apil-​Ekur (1075–​1074 bc), who reigned for only two years, whereupon another one of Tiglath-​pileser’s sons, Aššur-​bel-​kala (1073–​1056 bc), ascended the throne and reigned for eighteen years.125 There are no inscriptions documenting the activities of Ašared-​apil-​Ekur’s short reign. However, Aššur-​bel-​kala commissioned inscriptions already early in his reign. Although mostly fragmentary, such texts were found at Assur and Nineveh and contain several versions of his annals. One version features annalistic accounts of his activities up to the fourth year of his reign, which means that the text was compiled in the fourth or fifth regnal year. This version is known from several fragmentarily preserved examples found at Assur.126 There is a version that has only slight differences,127 while a third version contains a summary of Aššur-​bel-​kala’s military campaigns.128 Two fragments with only the beginning and end of the annals preserved may be part of any of these versions.129 Lastly, short inscriptions incised on a clay cone, on statues, and on his sarcophagus are known from Aššur-​bel-​kala’s tomb in Assur.130 At least early in his reign, Aššur-​bel-​kala campaigned aggressively in Anatolia.131 In his first year, he carried out an expedition against the cities in the mountainous area of Uruaṭri, i.e., the region around Lake

125. Grayson 1983: 112: §§55–57; Glassner 2004: 142–​143: iii 39–​43. 126. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.2. 127. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.5. 128. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.1. 129. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.4 and 8. On the alleged Aššur-​bel-​kala inscriptions (Grayson 1991: A.0.89.6, 7, and 9), see section 37.2. 130. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.3, 10–​11, and 12; republished in Lundström 2009: 168–​178. 131. However, note that the Mediterranean expedition allegedly undertaken during his reign took place most likely in the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I, since all sources of this expedition can be assigned to that king (sections 37.2.1 and 37.2.2).

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Van,132 and by the third year of his reign, he launched another campaign against Himme, a part of Uruaṭri that perhaps was located somewhere south of Lake Van.133 In addition, Aššur-​bel-​kala conducted at least two military expeditions against the land of Mari, formerly a loyal client kingdom that was centered on the city of Ṭabete in the Khabur valley; this happened early in his reign before his second expedition to Himme, and therefore perhaps already in his first and second regnal years.134 At the time, the land of Mari was under the control of a local ruler named Tukulti-​Mer, whom Aššur-​bel-​kala faced in battle.135 Tukulti-​Mer does not seem to have been a scion of the former dynasty of Mari, but was instead likely the ruler of another local dynasty based nearby, perhaps at the city of Qaṭṭuna that is mentioned in the Assyrian account.136 There, a local ruler by that same name had been active in the reign of Tukulti-​ Ninurta I (1243–​1207 bc) and therefore was likely his ancestor,137 while another inscription refers to a ruler with the same name and the title “king of the land of Hana.”138 We may therefore assume that the land of Mari had been conquered and annexed by Tukulti-​Mer of Qaṭṭuna and that Aššur-​bel-​kala attacked him in retaliation.139 During the reign of Aššur-​bel-​kala, the Assyrian policy toward Babylonia changed; instead of warfare, diplomacy was the preferred tool of interaction. Some chronicles refer to a peace treaty concluded

132. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.2: i 8′–​36′; A.0.89.5: ll. 2′–​16′; see Gaspa 2016. 133. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.2: iii 1′–​14′, 15′–​21′; A.0.89.3: ll. 3′–​4′. For a summary of the expeditions, see Grayson 1991: A.0.89.1: ll. 1′–​11′; cf. Nashef 1982: 126. 134. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.1: obv. 14′–​18′; A.0.89.2: ii 5′–​11′ =​Frahm 2009: no. 14: rev. 6′–​12′. 135. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.1: ll. 14′. 136. Frahm 2009: no. 14: l. 7′ =​Grayson 1991: A.0.89.2: ii 6′; see also Frahm 2009: 42. 137. Cancik-​Kirschbaum 2009: 140–​141: l. 14. 138. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.2001. 139. Frahm 2009: 42; Shibata 2011: 100–​101.

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by Aššur-​bel-​kala and Marduk-​šapik-​zeri of Babylon (1081–​1069 bc),140 who had ascended to the Babylonian throne as the successor of Marduk-​ nadin-​ahhe late in the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I. The Assyrian and Babylonian kingdoms both suffered from nomadic invasions at the time and clearly preferred peace with each other over war. After the death of Marduk-​šapik-​zeri, Adad-​apla-​iddina ascended the Babylonian throne, but apparently without being a son of his predecessor;141 according to the Synchronistic History, Aššur-​bel-​kala had intervened in the Babylonian succession and not only placed Adad-​apla-​iddina on the throne, but also married the new king’s daughter, thereby consolidating the alliance between Assyria and Babylonia.142

37.3.2.  Eriba-​Adad II (1055–​1054 bc) and Šamši-​Adad IV (1053–​1050 bc) Aššur-​bel-​kala was succeeded by his son Eriba-​Adad II, who reigned for only two years before his uncle Šamši-​Adad IV, a son of Tiglath-​pileser I, ascended to the throne. According to the Assyrian King List, Šamši-​ Adad IV, who had been staying in Babylonia (presumably as an exile), waged war against his nephew and succeeded in usurping the throne.143 Related to these events may be the fragment of a literary composition from Nineveh, which has a certain Eriba-​Adad receive the priesthood, or vice-​regency, of the god Aššur (and thus the Assyrian crown) and then mishandle his duties.144 Šamši-​Adad IV reigned only for four years, most likely because he was already of an advanced age when he ascended to the throne. Such succession conflicts within the royal family, combined

140. Grayson 1975: 165: ii 25′–28′; 180: ll. 4–7; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: ii 25′′–​28′′; 284–​285: ll. 2′–​5′. See ­chapter 41 in this volume. 141. Adad-​apla-​iddina’s family background remains unclear from the available sources; see Brinkman 1968: 135–​144 and ­chapter 41 in this volume. 142. Grayson 1975: 165: ii 29′–37′; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: ii 29′′–​37′′. 143. Grayson 1983: 112–​113: §59; Glassner 2004: 142–​143: iii 45–​iv 4. 144. King 1914: pls. 15–​16: especially l. 26. Cf. Borger 1961: 145.

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with a series of short-​reigning kings, must have exacerbated the decline of Assyria at a time when the kingdom’s strength was already weakened by the continuing pressure of the Aramean attacks. Only a few inscriptions commissioned by these two kings are known.145 However, as all these texts are fragmentary, information about their activities is scarce. The only detailed inscriptions available describe the reconstruction of the temple of Ištar in Nineveh, as carried out by Šamši-​Adad IV.146 It is worthy of note that at this time, the name-​giving practices of the Assyrian kings entered a new era.147 Until then, especially from Eriba-​ Adad I in the fourteenth century to Aššur-​bel-​kala in the mid-​eleventh century bc, all kings had names that were different from those of their ancestors, with the sole exception of Aššur-​nerari III (1202–​1197 bc). However, beginning with Eriba-​Adad II and up to Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc), all kings except for Ashurnasirpal I (1049–​1031 bc) had a name that had been used by one of their predecessors. It appears that the prestige of the royal ancestors became more important in royal name-​giving during this time. This new practice was arguably oriented toward the former “golden age” of Assyria and may have been linked to the contemporary decline of Assyrian power. Beginning with the reign of Sargon II (721–​705 bc),148 when Assyria was very clearly the foremost political power of its time, royal name-​giving practice was no longer restricted to the repertoire of names carried by the great kings of the past.

145. Grayson 1991: A.0.90.1–​2 and A.0.91.1–​4. 146. Grayson 1991: A.0.91.1–​3. 147. Frahm 2005. 148. Although this ruler is conventionally called “Sargon II” in modern scholarship, using the biblical version of his name Šarru-​ukīn (or perhaps Šarru-​kēnu), he does not share the name of “Sargon I,” a ruler of Assur in the early second millennium bc whose actual name was Šarru-​kīn. As Fuchs 2020 demonstrated, it is therefore a misnomer when the ruler of the eighth century bc is called Sargon II of Assyria.

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37.3.3.  Ashurnasirpal I (1049–​1031 bc) Šamši-​Adad IV was succeeded by his son Ashurnasirpal I. According to the wording of a prayer he offered to the goddess Ištar of Nineveh, he was born “in the midst of a mountain where no one knows” before Ištar took him out of the mountain in order to bestow upon him the throne.149 This may indicate that Ashurnasirpal I was born in exile before his father briefly came to the Assyrian throne, inheriting the crown only because of his father’s unexpectedly successful coup. Ashurnasirpal I was the last Assyrian king in the second millennium bc whose military activities are known to us from textual sources. A chronicle fragment from Assur likely dates to his reign,150 recording a campaign into the mountainous land of Habhu in the king’s own eponym year, most likely his second regnal year (1050 bc). The so-​called White Obelisk, found in Nineveh, was likely commissioned by Ashurnasirpal I, rather than Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc).151 Although the inscription on the White Obelisk is fragmentary, it apparently documents how the supply of horses arriving from Gilzanu, a famous horse-​producing region in the southwest of Lake Urmia (probably centered on the site of Hasanlu), was interrupted along the way in the king’s first regnal year, prompting the Assyrian army to march to the cities of Harira and Halhalauš, located somewhere in the region east of Tigris.152 These cities were conquered in the king’s eponym year. This military operation may be identified with the expedition documented in the above-​mentioned chronicle. According to the White Obelisk, the Assyrian army also campaigned within the Tur Abdin mountain range and conquered towns

149. von Soden 1974–​77: 22, 27–​28, 39. 150. Frahm 2009: no. 61; see also the discussion by Frahm 2009: 118–​121. 151. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.18; see Frahm 2009: 121–​122 and also Reade 1975; Bagg 2017: 197–​198. 152. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.18: ll. 3′–​8′. On Halhalauš, where later also Aššur-​dan II engaged in battle (Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: l. 29 and A.0.98.2: l. 13′), see Bagg 2017: 197–​198.

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in the land of Dannuna.153 All this clearly indicates that the Assyrian army was still able to undertake military operations during the reign of Ashurnasirpal I.154

37.4.  Assyria in recession: from Shalmaneser II to Tiglath-​pileser II Ashurnasirpal I was succeeded by Shalmaneser II (1030–​1019 bc), followed by Aššur-​nerari IV (1018–​1013 bc), Aššur-​rabi II (1012–​972 bc), Aššur-​reša-​iši II (971–​967 bc), and Tiglath-​pileser II (966–​935 bc). The throne always passed from father to son during this period, with one significant exception. According to the Assyrian King List, Aššur-​nerari IV was succeeded by Aššur-​rabi II, who was a son of Ashurnasirpal I, and therefore his predecessor’s uncle.155 This unusual succession may have been the result of a coup d’état similar to the case of Šamši-​Adad IV (section 37.3.2.), although details are unknown.

37.4.1.  The decline of the kingdom of Assyria The most important peculiarity of the century during which these kings ruled is that they apparently left not a single inscription documenting their military activities. The only available inscriptions are limited to steles from Assur, bearing the names and titles of Shalmaneser II, Aššur-​ reša-​iši II, and Tiglath-​pileser II (figure 37.3).156 In light of the wealth of royal inscriptions found otherwise during the excavations in Assur, this is unlikely to be due to the chances of discovery and seems to indicate that those kings failed to achieve any military success worth recording during this 100-​year period. Indeed, the inscriptions commissioned by subsequent generations of kings refer to the loss of formerly Assyrian 153. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.18: ll. 18′–​33′. On Dannuna, see Bagg 2017: 135. 154. Frahm 2017: 166. 155. Grayson 1983: 113: §§62–63; Glassner 2004: 142–​143: iv 9. 156. Grayson 1991: A.0.93.1, A.0.96.1 and A.0.97.1.

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Figure 37.3. The steles of (A) Tiglath-​pileser II (Ass. 15550), (B) Aššur-​ reša-​iši II (Ass. 15549; Vorderasiatisches Museum, Berlin, VA Ass 1202) and (C) Shalmaneser II (Ass. 15271; Vorderasiatisches Museum, Berlin, VA Ass 1201), as they were found during the excavations in Assur. Adapted from Andrae 1913: pl. xiv.

territories during the reigns of these kings.157 It is therefore plausible to assume that during that time, the Assyrian kingdom was deprived of some of its territories and failed to win them back. Throughout this period of decline, the crown appears to have been able to retain control over the Assyrian heartland, the region encompassed by the great cities of Assur, Nineveh, and Arbela.158 However, as indicated by the later expeditions conducted under Aššur-​dan II (934–​912 bc) and Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) in order to reconquer the lost Assyrian territories, the ability to exercise stable territorial rule outside the heartland appears to have been lost by the end of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser II. Even regions directly adjoining the heartland, such

157. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 16–​ 18, 23–​ 25; A.0.99.2: ll. 52–​ 53; Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 35–​40. See also Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: ll. 92–​94. 158. Radner 2011.

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as the area of the confluence of the Lower Zab and the Tigris, had to be reconquered. However, this does not mean that there was no longer any Assyrian territorial control outside the heartland during this period.159 The annals of Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) document that Assyrian outposts named Pitru and Mutkinu, which Tiglath-​pileser I had constructed on the Euphrates on the then westernmost edge of the Assyrian territory (section 37.2.3), only fell to the enemy during the reign of Aššur-​rabi II.160 These frontier strongholds therefore had remained enclaves under Assyrian control until then. Moreover, during the reigns of Aššur-​rabi II and Aššur-​reša-​iši II, the local rulers of Šadikanni (modern Tell Ajaja) in the Khabur valley pledged allegiance to the kings of Assyria. According to the annals of Ashurnasirpal II, the descendants of the “Assyrians” whom Shalmaneser (I or II, although more likely the first ruler of this name) had formerly settled in the city of Halziluha (likely originally Halzi-​Eluhat, and therefore corresponding to Eluhat in the sources of the second millennium bc), in the upper Tigris region, continued to reside there until the second year of his reign (882 bc).161 Therefore, it seems clear that certain Assyrian enclaves continued to subsist outside the heartland even in this century of decline.

37.4.2.  New polities in former Assyrian territories The Aramean nomadic tribes, who overran Assyrian territories from the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I onward, subsequently occupied some of these regions permanently and became a significant political presence. When the forces of Aššur-​dan II (934–​912 bc) and Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) eventually set out to reconquer the formerly Assyrian territories, they had to confront various Aramean tribes, including the Yausu who 159. Edmonds 2019: 108–​109. 160. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 35–​40. 161. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 102–​103. For the identification of this king with Shalmaneser I, see Radner and Schachner 2001: 757–​758. On Halziluha, see Bagg 2017: 202.

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occupied the regions around the confluence of the Lower Zab and the Tigris, and the Temanites who had settled in the southern foothills of the Tur Abdin. Although some tribes established organized territorial governance and formed petty kingdoms, such as Bit-​Adini (“House of Adini,” after its founding father) in the area encircled by the great bend of the Euphrates, many of these Aramean tribes were subdivided into further branches that never unified, let alone formed states.162 But the Aramean tribes were not the only people that flourished in the former Assyrian territories during that time. Various population groups gained independence from Assyrian rule and established kingdoms under newly emerging local dynasties, whose members sometimes commissioned their own inscriptions, such as the rulers of Šadikanni. Located on the western bank of the Khabur valley, the city of Šadikanni (Tell Ajaja) had become the center of an Assyrian province in the late second millennium bc.163 However, after the collapse of the Assyrian provincial governance in the Khabur basin in the eleventh century bc, Šadikanni became independent and established its own petty state. A clay cylinder with an inscription of a “vice-​regent of [Šadikanni]” named Bel-​ ereš has been excavated in Assur,164 and according to this text, Šadikanni had managed to expand its territory along the Khabur during the reign of Aššur-​rabi II (1012–​972 bc). Furthermore, Bel-​ereš rebuilt the temple of Samnuha, the patron god of Šadikanni, during the reign of Aššur-​reša-​ iši II (971–​967 bc). Although Šadikanni likely enjoyed independence at that time, the local rulers apparently still pledged allegiance to the Assyrian kings, as the references to Aššur-​rabi and Aššur-​reša-​iši in Bel-​ ereš’s inscription imply. Bel-​ereš has an Akkadian name (written PNdEN–​ APIN, meaning “The god Bel has desired”), which may suggest that his dynasty did not originate from the Aramean tribes that had invaded the region in the eleventh century bc. On the other hand, the respect paid to the cultic tradition of the god Samnuha seems to indicate the dynasty’s

162. Lipiński 2000: 163–​193; Younger 2016: 307–​318. 163. Cancik-​Kirschbaum 2008; Llop 2012a: 94–​102. 164. Grayson 1991: A.0.96.2001.

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local origin. During the ninth century bc, the Assyrian kings received tribute from local rulers of Šadikanni,165 who were likely descendants of Bel-​ereš, and the last generations of this local dynasty appear to have become governors in the Assyrian provincial system.166 Šadikanni was likely not the only local kingdom in the Khabur valley at that time, as when Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) later campaigned in that region, he received heavy tribute from another local ruler named Amil-​Adad in the city of Qaṭnu (likely linked to earlier Qaṭṭuna; see section 37.3.1.) and consequently allowed him to stay in power there.167 The city of Idu (modern Satu Qala) on the Lower Zab provides more information on the period of Assyrian decline.168 Like Šadikanni, Idu had become an Assyrian province in the period of expansion during the twelfth century and the early eleventh century bc.169 As documented in a fragmental chronicle text,170 the region of Idu experienced warfare toward the end of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign, and at some point after that, Assyria lost control over Idu. The recent excavations carried out at Satu Qala unearthed inscriptions commissioned by local rulers who called themselves “king of the land of Idu,” revealing that Idu was governed by a local dynasty after gaining independence from Assyria.171 Although these inscriptions are written in the Assyrian dialect of Akkadian, the names of the local rulers include some that are clearly not Akkadian.172 Unlike the rulers of Šadikannni, it is unclear whether the rulers of Idu still paid allegiance to the Assyrian kings, as none of their known inscriptions refers

165. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 107; A.0.100.5: ll. 112–​114; A.0.101.1: l. 78; cf. Kühne 1980, and see also Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2005–​2007. 166. Liverani 1988: 89. 167. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 109–​110. 168. van Soldt et al. 2013; Pappi 2018. 169. Llop 2012a: 104; van Soldt et al. 2013: 216–​219; Pappi 2018: 100–​107. 170. Glassner 2004: 188–​191: ll. 10′′–​13′′. 171. van Soldt et al. 2013; Pappi 2018. 172. van Soldt et al. 2013: 214–​215.

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to any Assyrian king. After Assyria regained its power, Adad-​nerari II reclaimed the territory of Idu for his kingdom.173

37.5.  The beginnings of the reconquista: from Aššur-​dan II to Tukulti-​Ninurta II After a century of decline, the Assyrian kingdom reached a major turning point during the reign of Aššur-​dan II (934–​912 bc), son and successor of Tiglath-​pileser II. For his reign, reports of military operations are available again as annals began to be commissioned again for royal inscriptions, which had previously stopped after the reign of Ashurnasirpal I (1049–​1031 bc). From these sources, it is clear that the Assyrian army finally launched a counterattack. The aggressive military operations as initiated by Aššur-​dan II were continued under his successors, his son Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) and his grandson Tukulti-​ Ninurta II (890–​884 bc). Most of the new polities established in the former Assyrian lands during the century of decline were small, making it easier for the Assyrian forces to fight them and claim back the territory. The Assyrian inscriptions clearly identify the goal of these military activities as the restoration of the lost lands, and as these texts frequently specify that the conquered lands were former territories lost during the period of decline,174 this period is often dubbed a reconquista by modern researchers (adopting a term from medieval historiography that denotes the gradual reclamation of Al-​Andalus, the Muslim-​ruled area of the Iberian Peninsula, by Christian forces). The Assyrian kings appear to have been keenly aware of the former boundaries during their kingdom’s zenith of power: the upper reaches of the Tigris in the north, the foothills of the Zagros Mountains in the east, the border with Babylonia to the

173. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 34; see Pappi 2018: 112–​115. 174. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 16–​18, 23–​25 (Aššur-​dan II); A.0.99.2: ll. 52–​53 (Adad-​ nerari II); A.0.101.19: ll. 92–​94 (Ashurnasirpal II); Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 35–​40 (Shalmaneser III).

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south, and the great bend of the Euphrates to the west.175 In the following, when we use the term “traditional” for Assyrian borders and territories we refer to these demarcations.

37.5.1.  Aššur-​dan II (934–​912 bc) Aššur-​dan II left a number of inscriptions, including two versions of his annals.176 The better-preserved first version was edited in the eponym year of the palace manager [ . . . ]-​dannani, whose exact chronological place remains unfortunately unclear, and includes the accounts of seven military operations, each divided by a ruling line.177 In light of the contents and the sequence of the campaigns, one can safely assume that the text was arranged in chronological order. However, the accounts of the individual expeditions are not dated, except for the first account, which is dated to the accession year and the first regnal year. However, although we cannot be certain that these seven expeditions took place in seven subsequent years, they very likely happened in succession early in the reign of Aššur-​dan II. Although the second version of his annals is only partially preserved, it contains accounts of three military operations that correspond to the second to fourth campaigns documented in the first version of the annals.178 In the course of the first three expeditions, the Assyrian army gradually advanced southward along the eastern bank of the Tigris, battling the Aramean tribes active in that region. The first encounter in battle

175. Tenu 2009: 149–​223. Note, however, that this territory includes not only the regions of the Assyrian provincial system of the second half of the second millennium bc, but also the frontier regions around these provinces, such as the area between the Balikh and the Euphrates rivers in the west, and the Shahrizor Plain in the east; see Fuchs 2011: 244–​260; Llop 2012b; Tenu 2020. 176. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1–​6 and A.0.98.1001. In addition, some of the small fragments of clay tablets from Assur with royal inscriptions of the early Neo-​ Assyrian period could possibly be attributed to this king: Frahm 2009: nos. 44–​48, 52–​54, and 56. 177. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1. 178. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.2.

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was with the Aramean tribe of Yausu, who “had come up” a river, most probably the Tigris, soon after Aššur-​dan II’s accession.179 Aššur-​dan II repelled them and plundered their settlement Ekal-​pi-​nari, presumably located on the southern bank of the Lower Zab near its confluence with the Tigris.180 The subsequent military operation was likely undertaken against another Aramean tribe whose designation is unfortunately lost in the extant text.181 That tribe may well have been the Ruqahu, who had strongholds near the confluence of the Lower Zab and the Tigris, and the land of Ruqahu is mentioned as lying near the Lower Zab at the end of the account.182 The third military operation continued southward on the eastern bank of the Tigris with the aim of conquering the lands of Uluzu and Yahanu.183 Yahanu was located somewhere in the triangle formed by the rivers Tigris and Adhaim (ancient Radanu) and the mountain range of the Jebel Hamrin,184 and Uluzu was situated in the same region.185 In all likelihood, Yahanu was not a place name but the name of an Aramean tribe that occupied the area at the time.186 It is noteworthy that all these tribes are described in Aššur-​dan’s inscriptions as having taken Assyrian territories during the reign of his royal predecessors. The Ruqahu are said to have assaulted the Assyrian population since the reign of Shalmaneser

179. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1 and A.0.98.6–​15; see Lipiński 2000: 412; Younger 2016: 224; Bagg 2017: 274. 180. Bagg 2017: 167–​168. 181. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 16–​22; A.0.98.2: ll. 1′–​5′. 182. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: l. 22. For Ruqahu, see Bagg 2017: 512 and also Lipiński 2000: 414; Younger 2016: 225–​228. 183. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: l. 23. The toponym Uluzu is restored based on the second version of the annals; see Grayson 1991: A.0.98.2: l. 6′. 184. Lipiński 2000: 195, 414; Bagg 2017: 268. 185. Bagg 2017: 627. 186. There is disagreement regarding whether the tribe was the namesake tribe that founded a kingdom in northern Syria with the city of Arpad as its capital in the ninth century bc. See Lipiński 2000: 195–​196 with note 5; Bagg 2007: 122–​123; 2017: 268; Younger 2016: 228–​230.

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II (1030–​1019 bc),187 while a tribe fought in the third expedition (probably the Yahanu) is said to have occupied the region since the reign of Aššur-​rabi II (1012–​972 bc).188 Aššur-​dan II succeeded in subjugating these Aramean population groups that had settled just south of his capital Assur on the eastern bank of the Tigris. Changing direction to the north, Aššur-​dan’s next four expeditions targeted the mountainous regions stretching from the northwest to the northeast of the Assyrian heartland: Katmuhu in the fourth campaign,189 Muṣru in the fifth campaign,190 and Habriuru in the seventh campaign,191 while the destination of the sixth expedition is unfortunately lost in the extant sources.192 Despite their relative proximity to the Assyrian heartland, these mountain lands were difficult to govern. Since the thirteenth century bc, these areas had been conquered several times, rebelling repeatedly. In the expedition against Katmuhu, the Assyrian army succeeded in capturing its king Kundi/​abhalê and took him to the city of Arbela, where he was tortured and executed. In his stead, Aššur-​ dan II installed a man named [. . . s]illa on the throne of Katmuhu, who pledged allegiance to him, thus transforming Katmuhu into a client kingdom that hitherto paid tribute to Assyria.193 Aššur-​dan II was the first Assyrian king to launch a counterattack against those who had occupied former Assyrian territories, although the extent of his campaigning was limited to regions immediately adjoining the heartland. It is likely that further military operations were carried out during his reign, which lasted twenty-​three years, but no textual sources are currently known that would attest to these. Aššur-​dan’s

187. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 16–​18. 188. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: l. 25; A.0.98.2: l. 8′. Cf. Lipiński 2000: 197. 189. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 33–​41; A.0.98.2: ll. 17′–​21′. 190. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 42–​45. 191. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 54–​59. 192. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 46–​53. 193. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 33–​41; A.0.98.2: ll. 17′–​21′.

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victories must have provided the foundation for the activities of his son and successor Adad-​nerari II, who conducted military expeditions from the beginning of his reign and expanded the theater of war considerably. In addition to his military campaigns and very likely as a result of the funds filling the Assyrian state coffers due to his victories, Aššur-​dan II engaged in various building activities. In Assur, he rebuilt the New Palace,194 as well as the Tabira Gate of the city’s fortification wall.195 At Kilizu (modern Qasr Shemamok), a clay cone with his inscription testifies that he also built in this city.196

37.5.2.  Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) Adad-​nerari II, the son and successor of Aššur-​dan II, commissioned many royal inscriptions, and his texts have been found at Assur, Nineveh, Šibanibe (modern Tell Billa), and Babylon.197 These include at least three different versions of his annals, compiled in his third regnal year (909 bc),198 in his nineteenth year (893 bc),199 and at some point toward the end of his reign.200 These annals were found in Assur and Nineveh, and especially the well-​preserved second version provides information on his

194. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 73–​81. 195. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.3: ll. 5–​14. 196. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.6. For the various Assyrian inscriptions found during the recent French excavations at the site, see Rouault and Masetti-​Rouault 2016. 197. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.1–​8 and A.0.99.1001–​1003. Further exemplars were published by Frahm 2009. 198. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.1. See Frahm 2009: no. 15 (=​Grayson 1991: A.0.99.1: ex. 2). 199. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2. 200. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.4 and 5 have been re-​edited together with a new fragment: Frahm 2009: nos. 16, 16a, and 17. An annalistic extract preserved on a fragment of multi-​column tablet (Frahm 2009: no. 48) can be ascribed to Adad-​nerari II; see Frahm 2009: 100; Edmonds 2019: 193. In addition, some of the small fragments of clay tablets with early Neo-​Assyrian royal inscriptions could perhaps be attributed to Adad-​nerari II: Frahm 2009: nos. 44–​47, 52–​54, and 56.

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aggressive military activities. Furthermore, the Synchronistic History includes an entry on campaigns against Babylonia carried out by this king.201 Adad-​nerari II continued his father’s program of reconquista and extended the geographical scope of the Assyrian military expeditions. He succeeded in campaigning to most of the regions where the Assyrian kings of the late second millennium bc had ruled, although the exact dates and sequence of these expeditions are known only for Years 1–​3 and 11–​18 of his reign. If we summarize the military activities by geography, in the north, he conducted a campaign to Katmuhu and claimed to have finally incorporated it into the Assyrian territory, turning it into an Assyrian province;202 and at least four expeditions were undertaken against the Nairi lands in the upper reaches of the Tigris, including Alzi.203 During the first year of his reign, Adad-​nerari’s forces turned to the northeast and raided Qumanu, killing its king Iluia; this completed the conquest of this client kingdom, ending its unstable relationship with Assyria.204 In the second or third year of his reign (909 or 910 bc), Adad-​nerari II extended his military activities northward to Mehru, located northeast of modern Şırnak.205 In 895–​894 bc, the Assyrian army undertook expeditions to this area in order to aid Kumme, a loyal client kingdom located somewhere in the basin of the Iraqi Khabur, probably its upper reaches.206 In the east, Adad-​nerari II claimed to have reconquered the independent

201. Grayson 1975: 166: iii 1–​21; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: iii 1–​21. See also Grayson 1975: 181: rev. 2. 202. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 26; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​17: l. 21′. 203. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 30–​32 and 35. 204. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.1: ll. 10–​19; A.0.99.2: ll. 24–​25; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​ 17: ll. 15′–​17′. For the campaign against Qumanu, see Radner 2008b. 205. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.1 rev. 6′–​9′; A.0.99.2: ll. 24–​25; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​ 17: ll. 15′–​17′. For Mehru, see Bagg 2017: 422. 206. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 91–​96. For Kumme, see Radner 2012: 254–​257; Bagg 2017: 351–​352.

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kingdom of Idu on the Lower Zab (section 37.4.2), together with nearby Zaqqu.207 In the south, Adad-​nerari II waged war against Babylonia (see also ­chapter 41 in this volume). The Synchronistic History contains a detailed account of these wars, in addition to a brief mention in the introduction to his annals, even if no annalistic account is available in the extant sources.208 The two kingdoms had ceased fighting after the conflicts during the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I, as they both were occupied with domestic challenges. Now, however, the Assyrian ambitions to regain power led to another war. As before in the late second millennium bc, the battleground was the region on the eastern bank of the Tigris.209 The conquest of the land around the confluence of the Lower Zab and the Tigris had already been completed by the end of the reign of Aššur-​dan II. Continuing his father’s territorial reclamation of that region, Adad-​nerari conducted an expedition to Arraphe (modern Kirkuk) and presumably also Lubdu (perhaps Tell Buldag) in his first or second year (911 or 910 bc),210 reportedly succeeding in retaking these cities, which were described as “fortresses of Karduniaš (i.e., Babylonia)” at that time.211 Having gained these important bridgeheads that provided a foothold for further activities in the east and south, Adad-​nerari II continued to campaign in these directions. Sometime between the fourth and tenth years of his reign (908–​902

207. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 34. 208. Grayson 1975: 166–​167: iii 1–​21; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: iii 1–​21; Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 26–​29; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​17: ll. 27′–​34′. 209. Fuchs 2011: 262–​264; Llop 2011. 210. For the annalistic account of a campaign against Arraphe in the first or second year of Adad-​nerari II, see Grayson 1991: A.0.99.1: l. 1′; Frahm 2009: no. 15: obv. 30. For discussions, see Frahm 2009: 43; Fuchs 2011: 263. On Lubdu, see Mühl 2013: 210, 223; Bagg 2017: 372–​373. 211. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 29; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​17: ll. 28′–​29′ (=​Grayson 1991: A.0.99.4).

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bc), after invading Zamua/​Mazamua on the western flank of the Zagros Mountains (centered on the Shahrizor Plain),212 the Assyrian army then marched southward through the hilly regions east of the Tigris and thus cut deep into Babylonian territory.213 Eventually, the Assyrian forces clashed with troops led by Šamaš-​mudammiq of Babylon. According to the Synchronistic History, the Assyrians won the battle, which took place at the foot of Mount Yalman on the southern bank of the Diyala—​presumably corresponding to a location in the southeastern foothills of the Jebel Hamrin.214 Šamaš-​mudammiq was not only defeated but reportedly died. According to the introduction of Adad-​ nerari’s annals,215 this expedition resulted in the Assyrian conquest of the area from Mount Yalman to the Diyala, thus occupying the region from Lahiru to Ugar-​sallu whose control had been a matter of conflict between Assyria and Babylonia since the late second millennium bc.216 In addition, the introduction of the annals mentions the conquest of Der, located far south of the Diyala,217 although that city is thought to have been brought back under Babylonian rule after the retreat of Assyrian forces.

212. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 23–​25; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​17: ll. 13′–​20′ (=​ Grayson 1991: A.0.99.4); see Radner 2018a. 213. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 26–​29; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​17: ll. 27′–​30′ (=​ Grayson 1991: A.0.99.4); Grayson 1975: 166: iii 1–​8; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: iii 1–​8. For the chronology, see Fuchs 2011: 263. 214. Grayson 1975: 166: iii 1–​8; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: iii 1–​8. For the location of Mount Yalman, see Bagg 2017: 269. 215. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 26–​27; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​17: ll. 27′–​28′ (=​ Grayson 1991: A.0.99.4). 216. For the location of Lahiru, located somewhere in the Diyala region close to northern Babylonia, see Bagg 2017: 360–​362. Some doubt has been cast regarding this “conquest” by Adad-​nerari II, as Lahiru was conquered by the Assyrian army during the reign of Šamši-​Adad V at the end of the ninth century bc; see Fuchs 2011: 264 with note 120, 269–​277. 217. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 28; Frahm 2009: nos. 16–​17: l. 28′.

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According to the Synchronistic History, Nabû-​šuma-​ukin ascended to the Babylonian throne after this defeat.218 Sometime after the compilation of the second version of Adad-​nerari II’s annals (893–​891 bc), which does not mention these events, the Assyrian army clashed again with the Babylonian army, led by Nabû-​šuma-​ukin.219 This battle ended with the two kings entering into a peace treaty, with each offering a daughter to the other in marriage. This treaty established the border between Babylonia and Assyria in the region stretching from Til-​bari upstream of Zabban to Til-​ša-​Abtani (perhaps Tell as-​Sulaima) and Til-​ ša-​Zabdani.220 As such, a new border was drawn near the Diyala, close to Me-​Turnat (modern Tell Haddad), extending the Assyrian territory from just south of the Lower Zab to the Diyala region,221 which re-​established Assyrian control in that area along lines that roughly matched those of the time of Tukulti-​Ninurta I (1243–​1207 bc).222 The second version of the annals of Adad-​nerari II was composed in 893 bc and contains detailed annalistic accounts that document military activities conducted from 901 bc to 894 bc.223 With the exception of expeditions conducted in aid of Kumme in 895–​894 bc, the Assyrian army devoted all its energies to seven campaigns to Hanigalbat, an archaic name for the area of the former Mittani heartland that corresponds to the Tur Abdin mountain range and its southern foothills in

218. Grayson 1975: 166: iii 9–​ 21; Glassner 2004: 180–​ 181: iii 9–​ 21. In the Synchronistic History, the name of this king is misspelled as Nabû-​šuma-​iškun; see c­ hapter 41 in this volume. 219. Fuchs 2011: 263–​264 with note 118. 220. For Til-​bari, see Bagg 2017: 597–​598; for Til-​ša-​Abtani, see Bagg 2017: 606–​ 607; and for Til-​ša-​Zabdani, see Bagg 2017: 607–​608. 221. Grayson 1975: 166–​167: iii 19–​32; Glassner 2004: 180–​181: iii 19–​32; see also Fuchs 2011: 263. 222. For the region east of the Tigris during the reign of Tukulti-​Ninurta I, see Fuchs 2011: 249–​255, 264; Llop 2011. 223. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 39–​119.

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the northern parts of the Khabur triangle.224 This area therefore controlled part of the important overland route along the southern flanks of the Taurus that connected the Tigris with the Mediterranean, and for the Assyrian kingdom, which had already integrated a first stretch of this route by annexing nearby Katmuhu into its territory, it was of great geopolitical importance as that route enabled easy campaigning into regions further west. At the time of Adad-​nerari’s expeditions, the area was ruled by the Temanites, a powerful Aramean tribe, which was divided into at least three branches, led by the chiefs Nur-​Adad, Mamli, and Muquru, with no unified government.225 The Temanites resisted the Assyrian aggression so desperately that it took Adad-​nerari’s forces seven years to conquer the region. In particular, the Assyrians struggled to take the city of Naṣibina (modern Nusaybin), which Nur-​Adad had fortified and which proved able to withstand two Assyrian attacks in 901 bc and 900 bc.226 Temporarily giving up on the conquest of this city, the Assyrian army captured some towns at the foot of the Tur Abdin range that were ruled by Mamli, and the city of Gidara, ruled by Muquru, in 899 bc and 898 bc, respectively.227 According to Adad-​nerari’s inscriptions, the formerly Assyrian city of Gidara, which was also known as Raqammatu,228 had been seized by the Arameans during the reign of Tiglath-​pileser (I or II, although the second ruler of this name is the more likely option).229 After conquering all surrounding cities, the Assyrians finally succeeded in capturing Naṣibina during Adad-​nerar’s sixth campaign in 896 bc.230 After the fall of Naṣibina, a local man whose name is lost in the extant

224. For the expeditions, see Younger 2017; Edmonds 2019: 124–​ 126. For Hanigalbat, see Fales 2012. 225. Lipiński 2000: 109–​117; Younger 2016: 230–​242; 2017: 367–​368. 226. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 39–​44. 227. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 45–​48, 49–​60. 228. Bagg 2017: 181, 505–​506. 229. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 52–​53; see Edmonds 2019: 109 with note 556 and also Younger 2017: 381. 230. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 62–​79.

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texts was put in charge instead of Nur-​Adad, who was seized and taken to Nineveh.231 During the third campaign of 899 bc, Adad-​nerari advanced further west from the Khabur triangle and succeeded in taking over the stronghold of Huzirina (modern Sultantepe), located on the upper reaches of the Balikh.232 He had Huzirina surrounded with a new fortification wall and turned the city into an important outpost for further expansion attempts in the west. Clearly feeling threatened by the activities of the Assyrian army, the nearby Aramean state of Bit-​Adini, situated just south of Huzirina in the great bend of the Euphrates, sent Adad-​nerari a valuable gift of exotic female monkeys.233 The campaign carried out in the third month of 894 bc was different in character from the previous six expeditions of Adad-​nerari II. According to his inscriptions, the king “ruled the extensive land of Hanigalbat to its entire extent” and “brought it within the boundaries of my land.”234 Therefore, the Assyrian reannexation of Hanigalbat had apparently been completed, although the direct control and governance of this region was likely still entrusted to local rulers, as Adad-​nerari received tribute payments here.235 After accepting these, Adad-​nerari continued into the territories of the neighboring kingdoms and chiefdoms, without meeting any resistance. This expedition was apparently not conceived as a military campaign but a grand tour and show of force, designed to impress the local rulers with the power of the Assyrian king, while collecting their tribute.236 The king and his army went to Guzana (modern Tell Halaf ) and the neighboring city of Sikani (modern Tell

231. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 73–​ 81; see Edmonds 2019: 125–​ 126; Sano 2020: 101–​102. 232. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 45–​46. For interpretations of the account on this third expedition, see Fales 2012: 108; Younger 2017: 373–​379. 233. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 48. 234. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 98–​100. 235. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 98–​99. 236. For a reconstruction of the route of this campaign, see Kühne 1980.

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Fekheriye; previously Waššukanni), both located at the northwestern corner of the Khabur triangle, where tribute was received from Abi-​ salamu, the ruler of Bit-​Bahiani, an Aramean state centered on Guzana and established by the Aramean chief Bahianu (in Aramaic, Baġyan) in the tenth century bc.237 The Assyrian forces proceeded south, first along the Khabur river and then on to the Euphrates valley, until they reached Hindanu, the region around the modern city of Abu Kamal on the border between Syria and Iraq.238 Along the way, Adad-​nerari received tribute from the local rulers—​mostly chiefs of the various branches of the Aramean tribe of Laqê,239 but also others such as Amil-​Adad of Qaṭnu, who appears to already have been an Assyrian client ruler.240 On the other hand, Adad-​nerari placed some areas under his direct control, such as the city of Dur-​Katlimmu (modern Tell Sheikh Hamad), once an Assyrian center of great importance in the Khabur valley (­chapter 32 in volume 3), whose name was spelled in Adad-​nerari’s inscriptions in such a way that it meant “Fortress of ‘I killed a thousand’ ” (Dur-​Aduk-​ limmu).241 It is possible, although not certain, that Dur-​Katlimmu had remained under Assyrian rule as an enclave continually since the late second millennium bc.242 Adad-​nerari’s intention of re-​establishing territorial control over the western territories is also indicated by the rebuilding of the city of Apku, which functioned as a station on the route leading from Nineveh to the Khabur.243 Adad-​nerari rebuilt the city, which had fallen into disrepair and had become a ruin, likely with the goal of renewing the direct communication routes that had formerly linked Assyria’s eastern and western

237. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 100–​104. For Bit-​Bahiani, see Lipiński 2000: 119–​ 133; Younger 2016: 242–​269. 238. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 105–​119. 239. For Laqê, see Lipiński 2000: 77–​108; Younger 2016: 274–​292. 240. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 109. 241. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 112–​113. 242. Liverani 2014: 480. 243. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 36–​38.

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parts by bridging the arid steppe region of the Jezirah.244 In addition, the king organized building works in Assur, specifically on the quay wall of the city’s fortifications directly below the temple of Aššur,245 and on the temple of Gula.246

37.5.3.  Tukulti-​Ninurta II (890–​884 bc) As the successor of his father Adad-​nerari II, Tukulti-​Ninurta II (890–​ 884 bc) ascended to the Assyrian throne but only ruled for seven years. His inscriptions have been found not only in Assur and Nineveh, but also in cities that had only recently been placed under direct Assyrian control or accepted Assyrian supremacy, such as Kahat (modern Tell Barri) and Terqa (modern Tell Ashara).247 Tukulti-​Ninurta commissioned several versions of his annals, although most of the extant manuscripts are fragmentarily preserved. The one exception is a text found in Assur that represents the last tablet of a version of the annals that was recorded on two (or perhaps even more) clay tablets and that was compiled in 885 bc, one year before the king’s death.248 This tablet documents his campaigns from 887 bc to 885 bc in chronological order.249 Other versions of Tukulti-​Ninurta’s annals are partially preserved in fragmentary manuscripts, including those composed already in the first year.250

244. Edmonds 2019: 111 with n. 572. 245. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.1: rev. 10′–​16′. 246. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 128–​131. 247. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.1–​17; A.0.100.1001–​1004; Frahm 2009: nos. 19–​22; Tournay 1998; Ahmad 2000. 248. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5 ex. 1; note also its fragmentary duplicates: Frahm 2009: nos. 19 and 20. 249. The manuscript begins with an annalistic account that is obviously a continuation of the previous tablet. Although the annalistic account has no date, it may be dated to 887 bc; see Frahm 2016. 250. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.1–​4. Furthermore, Frahm 2009: nos. 45 //​46 and 56, which refer to military operations conducted in the upper Khabur region and the Tur Abdin mountain range, seem to be attributed to him (Frahm

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During his short reign, Tukulti-​Ninurta II conducted aggressive military campaigns designed to further the territorial gains achieved under his grandfather and father. Although no detailed annalistic account documenting his activities during 890–​888 bc, that is, the year of his accession to his third regnal year, has been found to date, the summary statements in the introduction of the known annals indicate that he conducted several expeditions to the east and southeast of Assyria early in his reign.251 Tukulti-​Ninurta claimed to have marched to Gilzanu, located on the eastern flank of the Zagros range, and this campaign also resulted in the capture of Apa, the ruler of Hubuškia (identified with the Sardasht region in northwestern Iran).252 The Assyrian king also conquered the mountainous Babitu Pass (corresponding to the modern Bazian Pass close to Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq), which served as the gateway to Zamua/​Mazamua, as well as further south the cities of Hirimu and Harutu, described as “fortresses of Karduniaš” (cf. section 37.5.2). Tukulti-​Ninurta’s military activities continued also in the fourth to sixth years of his reign (887–​885 bc), as documented in the 885 bc version of his annals.253 In 887 bc and 886 bc, he conducted a series of northern expeditions to the upper reaches of the Tigris, described in his inscriptions as the lands of Nairi.254 Although Adad-​nerari II had already conducted campaigns in this region, Assyrian control was evidently not yet securely established there, and local forces clashed with

2009: 94–​95, 110; 2016: 179; Edmonds 2019: 196–​197), although attribution to one of the other early Neo-​Assyrian kings is not excluded. In addition, some of the small fragments of clay tablets bearing early Neo-​Assyrian royal inscriptions (Frahm 2009: nos. 44, 47–​48, 52–​54) may be attributed to this king. 251. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.6: ll. 2–​9, especially 4–​8; A.0.100.5: ll. 128–​131. Cf. Frahm 2016: 179. 252. For Hubuškia, see Bagg 2020: 280–​284. 253. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 1–​127. 254. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 1–​29. For these campaigns, see also Lipiński 2000: 153–​157; Younger 2016: 296–​300; Edmonds 2019: 135–​136.

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each other over the question of accepting Assyrian domination or not.255 Amme-Ba‘al and his son Bi[ . . . ] were apparently in favor of Assyria and fought with Bialasi, who may have been Urartian.256 In response to this situation, Tukulti-​Ninurta II conducted another expedition to the region in the late spring of 886 bc.257 After leaving Nineveh, the Assyrian army reached the headwaters of the Subnat river (modern Sufan Çay/​ Sufandere);258 here, probably near the modern village of Babil southwest of Cizre, Tukulti-​Ninurta erected his royal stele next to that of Tiglath-​ pileser I (1114–​1076 bc), according to the annals of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc), who later also erected a stele at this spot.259 Likely taking the same route as Ashurnasirpal II would, the Assyrian army marched through the Tur Abdin range in order to reach the upper valley of the Tigris, where they conquered cities.260 Tukulti-​Ninurta showed mercy to the local leaders, including Amme-​Ba‘al of Bit-​Zamani, who pledged his allegiance to the Assyrian king,261 and who remained a key player in the local exercise of Assyrian rule long into the reign of Ashurnasirpal II. After an expedition to the eastern plateau of Habriuru in 886 bc,262 Tukulti-​Ninurta II conducted a grand tour of the western client states in order to collect tribute in 885 bc, in the same way that his father Adad-​nerari II had previously done, but now traveling in the opposite direction.263 The king and his army left Assur, heading westward through the steppe to Wadi Tharthar, which flowed out from Jebel

255. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 4–​8. 256. Lipiński 2000: 154 and note 129. On Urartu, see ­chapter 44 in this volume. 257. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 11–​29. 258. Kessler 1980: 31; Radner 2006: 290. 259. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: l. 14; A.0.101.1: i 104–​105. The stele erected by Ashurnasirpal II was found in Babil: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.20. 260. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 14–​18. For the route, see Radner 2006: 286. 261. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 18–​25. 262. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 30–​40. 263. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 41–​127. For the route, see Kühne 1980.

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Sinjar to the south. They continued south along the Wadi Tharthar until they reached Dur-​Kurigalzu in the northern part of Babylonia, and then continued to Sippar—​as a consequence of the wars under Adad-​ nerari II, Assyria appears to have held sufficient power over Babylonia to do so unopposed. Thereupon, the Assyrian troops turned northwest and followed the route along the Euphrates and then the Khabur until they reached Kahat and Naṣibina in the Khabur triangle. From there, they headed west to the upper reaches of the Balikh, where they visited Huzirina and another city (whose name is lost) that had previously been held by Tukulti-​Ninurta I.264 Moving beyond Assyria’s former boundary, the army of Tukulti-​Ninurta II now marched northward into the mountain lands in order to reach the Mušku. As with the previous tour under Adad-​nerari II, there was little fighting, with armed conflict limited to the encounters with the Aramean tribe of the Utu’u on the Tigris and with the Mušku at the end of the tour.265 Tukulti-​Ninurta set up monuments with his inscriptions in the cities that he visited, and two such objects have indeed been recovered at Terqa and Kahat.266 The Assyrian king received heavy tribute in the cities on the Euphrates and Khabur from local rulers and chiefs who pledged allegiance to him. However, no tribute was received in the cities of the Khabur triangle, and this northern region appears to have already become part of the Assyrian provincial system by the time of this tour. As the inscription of Tukulti-​Ninurta found at Kahat testifies, he had a provincial palace built there.267 Tukulti-​Ninurta II conducted various building enterprises, particularly in Assur and Nineveh. The most notable was a new royal palace that he commissioned in or around the modern village of Qadhiah, located just three km northwest of Kuyunjik. He named that place after himself: Nemed-​Tukulti-​Ninurta (“Base of Tukulti-​Ninurta”), as shown by

264. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 119–​120. 265. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 49–​50, 120–​127. 266. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.9 (Kahat); Tournay 1998 (Terqa). 267. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.9.

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the inscriptions engraved on the fragments of three colossal guardian statues placed at the palace gates.268 The available sources do not detail the specific function of this royal palace, but since Tukulti-​Ninurta resided in Nineveh, as suggested by his annals,269 the palace of Nemed-​Tukulti-​ Ninurta, which stood in the outskirts of Nineveh, was likely not just a provincial palace but the king’s own residence.270 In addition, Tukulti-​ Ninurta conducted building works in Assur, namely on the city walls,271 one of the palaces (either to Old Palace or the New Palace),272 and the temple of the god Aššur.273 A few large glazed tiles with beautiful, multicolored images and his inscription, identified as having been prepared for the palace,274 were found during the excavations of the temple for Anu and Adad in Assur, where they had been later reused (figure 37.4).

37.5.4.  Rebuilding the kingdom of Assyria The three kings aggressively carried out expeditions to the regions that were once ruled by the Assyrian kingdom, lost during the period of decline. Descriptions of postwar processes cited in their inscriptions suggest that many of the conquered lands did not immediately become Assyrian provinces, but rather were initially made client kingdoms. After deposing rebellious rulers, governance of the client kingdoms was entrusted to obedient members of the local elite, such as after the campaign against Katmuhu by Aššur-​dan II.275 Local rulers who submitted

268. Ahmad 2000. The same inscription was also found on a stone that was reused in the construction of Nineveh: Grayson 1991: A.0.100.6. 269. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 8, 9, and 13. 270. Russell 2017a: 435. 271. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.2: rev. 1′–​6′. 272. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.3: rev. 7′–​13′; A.0.100.5: ll. 136–​142. 273. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.14; cf. A.0.100.5: ll. 26–​27. 274. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.15. 275. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 33–​41; A.0.98.2: ll. 17′–​21′.

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Figure 37.4. A fragmentary glazed tile with the inscription of Tukulti-​ Ninurta II from Assur, depicting a light-​weight chariot drawn by a pair of horses. British Museum, ANE 115705. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

to the Assyrian king, such as those in the Khabur and Euphrates valleys, were allowed to continue to govern their lands. In both cases, the local rulers were required to swear allegiance, offer hostages, and pay tribute to the Assyrian king, as documented in the case of Amme-​Ba‘al of

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Bit-​Zamani.276 The Assyrian kings subjugated the regions also by displaying their power for all to see, such as when Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​ Ninurta II visited the rulers of the western regions, undoubtedly in the company of numerous well-​armed troops. In the regions they invaded, the Assyrian kings established fortified outposts in between the various tributary states that were under their direct control, situated in strategic positions on the most important overland routes.277 According to his annals, Adad-​nerari II placed under his direct control Saraku at the foot of the Tur Abdin mountain range and Huzirina on the upper reaches of the Balikh, both along the Piedmont Road; Apku on the southern flank of the Jebel Sinjar on the steppe route through the Jezirah; and Dur-​Katlimmu on the road along the Khabur river.278 These outposts provided facilities for collecting tribute from the neighboring local rulers and crucially also for storing grain in order to support the campaigning Assyrian troops. This strategy was maintained subsequently in the reign of Ashurnasirpal II. During the reigns of Aššur-​dan II, his son Adad-​nerari II, and his grandson Tukulti-​Ninurta II, new provinces were created in addition to the ones in the Assyrian heartland, which survived unchanged during the period of decline.279 Katmuhu, which had been turned into an Assyrian client kingdom by Aššur-​dan II, was conquered again in the reign of Adad-​nerari II and converted into an Assyrian province, according to his annals.280 This is also supported by the fact that Katmuhu’s governor Na’id-​ilu was appointed to the office of year eponym in the sixth year of the reign of Tukulti-​Ninurta II.281 The regions between the eastern bank of the Tigris and the southern bank of the Lower Zab,

276. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 23–​25. 277. Liverani 1988. 278. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 36–​38 (Apku), 44 (Saraku), 45–​46 (Huzirina), and 112–​113 (Dur-​Katlimmu). 279. Radner 2008a: 45–​48. 280. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 26. 281. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: l. 147; see Millard 1994: 24; Radner 2008a: 53.

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most importantly Arraphe, apparently became Assyrian provinces after the campaign of Adad-​nerari II, as no military activity took place in this area after that period, including the reign of Ashurnasirpal II.282 While governance over some, or even most, cities in the Khabur triangle, where fierce battles had been fought during the reign of Adad-​ nerari II, was entrusted to members of the local elite immediately after the fighting ended, these same cities, including Naṣibina, appear to have been integrated into the Assyrian provincial system during the reign of Tukulti-​Ninurta II, ruled by governors appointed by the crown and dispatched from the center, as this king did not receive any tribute during his stay in these cities.283 Reconquering the territories was only one component in the toolkit used to rebuild the Assyrian kingdom to its former extent. What the military operations conducted by Aššur-​dan II were meant to achieve is summarized in the following passage, which follows after the annalistic accounts of the campaigns: I brought back the exhausted [people] of Assyria [who] had abandoned [their cities and houses in the face of ] want, hunger, and famine and [had gone up] to other lands. [I settled] them in cities and houses [which were suitable] and they dwelt in peace. I constructed [palaces in] the (various) districts of my land. [I hitched up] plows in the (various) districts of my land (and thereby) [piled up] more grain than ever before. I hitched up [numerous] teams of horses [. . . for the forces of ] Assyria.284

282. Radner 2008a: 51. 283. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 115–​118. There is a possibility that expeditions to the upper Khabur region, documented in the fragments of annals (Frahm 2009: nos. 45–​46: ll. 26–​31; no. 56: ll. 11–​22), took place in the reign of Tukulti-​ Ninurta II. If correct, the expeditions may have resulted in the reannexation of Naṣibina and other cities in the region to Assyria; see Frahm 2009: 94–​95, 110; 2016: 179; Edmonds 2019: 126–​127, 196–​197. 284. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 60–​67; see Frahm 2017: 167–​168.

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Similar passages also appear in the annals of Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​ Ninurta II.285 The tangible results of their campaigning are said to include the resettlement of the dispersed Assyrian population, the building of provincial palaces throughout the territory, the increase of farmland, and the strengthening of the Assyrian army, chiefly through the drafting of additional horse units. In essence, the Assyrian “revival” was not only a reconquest of lost territories and the forceful command directed at all client rulers that were allowed to stay in power to regularly pay tribute to their sovereign, the king of Assyria, but also a re-​establishment of the structures of internal Assyrian governance.286 Just like the kings of the late second millennium bc, these three rulers routinely resettled people of the lands they conquered,287 and these deportees must have constituted an important labor force when rebuilding the Assyrian kingdom.

37.6.  The birth of the Assyrian Empire: Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc) The reign of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc), son and successor of Tukulti-​Ninurta II, marks an important turning point in Assyrian history, as this king succeeded in bringing all former territories of the kingdom back under his rule, thus completing the restitution of Assyria. During the reign of his son and successor Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc), the Assyrian kingdom started to extend the territories under its direct control beyond its traditional borders, thus launching the processes that would result in the formation of a huge empire in the second half of the eighth century bc. Crucially, Ashurnasirpal built the new capital Kalhu (modern Nimrud), resulting in the centralization of political power in

285. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: ll. 120–​121; A.0.100.5: ll. 132–​133. 286. Frahm 2017: 168. 287. Sano 2020: 97–​105.

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the hands of the king and the conceptual foundation of the Assyrian Empire.288 Under Ashurnasirpal II, many more royal inscriptions were written than under his predecessors, as the king had inscriptions engraved on all the stone cladding decorating the interior of his new Northwest Palace and the various temples at Kalhu, which he established there. His texts were written on stone slabs lining the walls and pavement slabs on the floor, on the colossal human-​headed and winged bull guardian figures and lion statues set at the entrances of palaces and temples, and the royal steles erected in these buildings and elsewhere. Such inscriptions have also been found in other Assyrian cities.289 The novel choice of monumental objects to bear these inscriptions, especially huge slabs of stone, made it possible to compose much longer inscriptions, although their structure, content matter, and wording closely followed those of Ashurnasirpal’s predecessors. Among his inscriptions, there are several very lengthy texts. Most notably, a 389-​line inscription was written at the bottom part of a huge piece of flat alabaster that serves as a dais, set on the floor of the niche built into the cella (“Room B”) of the temple of the god Ninurta.290 This text was composed in or after 866 bc and contains details of the king’s military activities as conducted from his first regnal year (883 bc) to the eighteenth year (866 bc) of his reign, documented in chronological order, providing the most important information about Ashurnasirpal’s military expedition. Every campaign report is dated, thus providing a chronology of the reign,

288. Radner 2011: 323–​325. 289. Ashurnasirpal II’s inscriptions were edited in Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1–​138 and A.0.101.1001–​1006; for an overview, see Grayson 1991: 189–​191. The inscriptions from the bronze band of Imgur-​Enlil were recently re-​edited in Curtis and Tallis 2008. The inscriptions engraved on the king’s sarcophagus from Assur were edited in Lundström 2009: 185–​204, and further fragments from Assur were published by Frahm 2009: nos. 23–​24. A short inscription written on a glazed tile found in Idu (modern Satu Qala) was published by van Soldt et al. 2013: 213–​214, 234 fig. 14 (SQ 11-​T14). 290. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1. For the archaeological context of the inscription, see Reade 2002: 171, 187 fig. 47, 207–​208 (M 27.2).

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except for the campaigns conducted between 877 bc and 867 bc. This inscription is conventionally designated as the annals of Ashurnasirpal II. Other inscriptions partly duplicated these annals and were engraved on stone slabs and colossal statues in the Northwest Palace and various other temples in Kalhu and also Nineveh.291 Other inscriptions left by this king are engraved in freestanding monuments, such as the Nimrud Monolith, a huge stele depicting Ashurnasirpal, which was found in the Ninurta temple at the entrance to “Room C,” one of the inner shrines (figure 37.5).292 The inscription engraved on the stele, likely composed in or just after 879 bc, contains annalistic accounts of the expeditions conducted from 883 bc to 879 bc, closely matching the text of his annals, and includes the earliest known reference to building the new capital city of Kalhu.293 One of the latest inscriptions is inscribed on the so-​called Banquet Stele, which was placed in a niche east of one of the entrances to the throne room of the Northwest Palace.294 This inscription contains the most detailed account of the construction of the temples in Kalhu and also describes the great banquet held on the occasion of the inauguration of the Northwest Palace, and by extension of Kalhu as the new capital of Assyria. Other of Ashurnasirpal’s inscriptions were found outside of Kalhu, including in the cities of Assur, Nineveh, and Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat), the modern village of Babil in the southeastern-​most corner of Turkey, and most recently at Idu on the Lower Zab. The Kurkh Monolith is a huge stele that was found at the site of Kurkh/​Üçtepe (likely ancient Tidu), 11 km west of the modern Turkish town of Bismil in the upper 291. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2–​16. For a classification of the lengthy inscriptions of Ashurnasirpal II’s “annals series,” see Grayson 1991: 192. 292. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.17. For the archaeological context, see Reade 2002: 142 fig. 6, 168–​169, 187 fig. 47, 209 (M 31). However, considering the inscription’s contents, the stele was likely originally erected in the Northwest Palace and only later moved into the Ninurta temple; see Reade 2002: 142–​143; Kertai 2015: 26. 293. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.17: i 61–​v 24. 294. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30. For the archaeological context, see Kertai 2015: 26, 31 fig. 2.4.

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Figure 37.5. The so-​ called Nimrud Monolith, a limestone stele of Ashurnasirpal II from Kalhu. British Museum, ANE 118805. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

valley of the Tigris,295 inscribed with a text that was composed slightly earlier than that of the Nimrud Monolith. This inscription is unique in that it contains an account of only one expedition, namely that conducted against the upper Tigris area in 879 bc. 295. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19. For Tidu, see Bagg 2017: 595–​596.

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In sharp contrast to this great wealth of inscriptions, only a few archival documents from the reign of Ashurnasirpal II have been found. Most important are the two fragmentary copies of an edict appointing the eunuch Nergal-​apil-​kumu’a to a position that entrusted him with overseeing the construction of Kalhu.296 As the king realized major building projects in cities such as Kalhu, Assur, Nineveh, and Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat), a huge range of sources other than texts survives from his reign, including the narrative scenes decorating some of his buildings.297 Various palaces and temples in Kalhu, Nineveh, and elsewhere contained wall reliefs, colossal statues, and steles that furnished and decorated the buildings. Notably, bronze bands attached to two pairs of large wooden doors were recovered at Imgur-​Enlil at his palace and the nearby temple of the god of dreams, Mamu, alongside the remains of another such set from the reign of his son and successor Shalmaneser III.298 These bronze bands depict scenes of battles and tribute delivery, processions of war captives, and hunting activities. Furthermore, fragments of a freestanding monument known as the Rassam Obelisk were found at the entrance of the Central Building on the citadel mound of Kalhu, which depicts the Assyrian king receiving members of subjugated population groups and their tribute.299 The depictions on the bronze bands and the obelisk were accompanied by cuneiform labels that identify the respective scenes and make it possible to put them in their historical context, especially in the case of the door bands.300

296. Kataja and Whiting 1995: nos. 82, 83 //​84. 297. For an overview, see Russell 2017b: 472–​477. 298. Curtis and Tallis 2008. 299. Reade 1980. Also some of the obelisk fragments found at Assur (Orlamünde 2011) and Nineveh (Reade 1981) may perhaps be attributed to Ashurnasirpal II: Russell 2017b: 476. 300. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.71–​97. For the captions on the bronze bands, see Curtis and Tallis 2008: 30–​45, 54–​69.

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37.6.1.  Ashurnasirpal II’s military activities Numerous inscriptions left by Ashurnasirpal II, particularly his annals, document his military expeditions. According to his annals, the king campaigned every year, and sometimes twice a year, until at least the sixth year of his reign. With the exception of his expeditions to the great bend of the Euphrates and the Mediterranean, all the campaigns targeted the same places that Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​Ninurta II had sought out, and therefore most of his military activities took place inside Assyria’s traditional borders.301 According to his inscriptions, most of Ashurnasirpal’s campaigning was undertaken in response to rebellions or the withholding of tribute by local leaders who had previously submitted to Assyria. Although his expeditions were conducted on an ad hoc basis in some cases, we can clearly observe a “grand plan” in the first half of his reign. Initially, the priority was to establish control over the mountainous regions in the north and east, particularly the Nairi lands along the upper reaches of the Tigris on Assyria’s northern frontier and Zamua/​Mazamua on the eastern frontier. Afterwards, the military expeditions focused on the Khabur valley and the adjoining Euphrates region. After these interventions had stabilized Assyrian control over most of the territories that had previously belonged to the kingdom, the king’s attention was shifted to the western frontier at the great bend of the Euphrates and beyond. According to this grand strategy of consolidating control over the traditional territories, one by one, these expeditions targeted all areas inside the traditional boundaries of Assyria that had not yet been turned into provinces.302 The following is a summary of Ashurnasirpal’s military activities according to geographic principles, clockwise starting from the north.

37.6.1.1. The north The Nairi lands in the upper reaches of the Tigris had previously been the target of military expeditions led by Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​Ninurta 301. Liverani 1992: 96–​99; and cf. Tenu 2009: 149–​223. 302. Liverani 1992: 96–​99.

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II, but Assyrian control in the region remained incomplete. From east to west, the independent local polities were Nirdun, Nirbu, and Bit-​ Zamani in the Tigris valley, and Dirru and Šubru to the north of the Tigris.303 In order to establish control over the region, Ashurnasirpal II conducted two expeditions, in 882 bc and 879 bc. The first campaign was undertaken after the rebellion of Hulaya, the leader of the descendants of “Assyrians” who had been settled in the area during the reign of Shalmaneser (I or II, but more likely the first ruler of this name).304 After Hulaya occupied the city of Damdammusa, an Assyrian outpost established in this area prior to the reign of Ashurnasirpal II,305 the Assyrian troops used a route that crossed the Tur Abdin mountain range from the southeast to the northwest in order to reach the upper valley of the Tigris, as they also did in their second expedition.306 Upon their arrival on the upper Tigris, the Assyrian forces defeated the army assembled by Hulaya and conquered the cities in the influence sphere of Nirbu.307 After the expedition to Zamua/​Mazamua (section 37.6.1.2), the Assyrian army returned to the upper Tigris region in 879 bc in order to subdue the other local polities: Nirdun in the east, Dirru on the north bank of the Tigris, and Bit-​Zamani in the west.308 According to the inscription of the Kurkh Monolith, which Ashurnasirpal had erected at Üçtepe (previously known by the Syriac name Kurkh; likely ancient Tidu) at some point during this campaign,309 the war with Bit-​Zamani was triggered by internal conflicts between the region’s pro-​Assyrian and anti-​Assyrian factions, as there was a conspiracy to kill Amme-​Ba‘al, the ruler of Bit-​Zamani, who had submitted to Assyria during the reign of

303. Liverani 1992: 107–​108. 304. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 101–​103. 305. For Damdammusa, see Bagg 2017: 133–​134. 306. On the reconstruction of this route, see Radner 2006: 286–​292. 307. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 106–​ii 2; see Liverani 1992: 34–​44, 89. 308. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 97–​125; A.0.101.19: ll. 63–​103; see Liverani 1992: 57–​ 62, 92–​93. 309. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: ll. 85–​97; also A.0.101.1: ii 118–​125.

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Tukulti-​Ninurta II and had remained loyal ever since.310 This plan succeeded and Bur-​Ramanu, the leader of the anti-​Assyrian faction, usurped the throne of Bit-​Zamani. This gave Ashurnasirpal cause for war as he had to avenge his client’s murder, and the Assyrian army attacked Bit-​ Zamani, which soon surrendered out of fear. Ashurnasirpal II had the rebel Bur-​Ramanu killed and installed Ilanu, the brother of the murdered Amme-​Ba‘al, as his new client ruler, imposing tribute on him.311 In order to consolidate his control over the region, Ashurnasirpal now fortified certain strongholds as Assyrian outposts in the upper Tigris region, namely Damdammusa, Tušhan (modern Ziyaret Tepe), which had been an Assyrian city in the second millennium bc,312 Sinabu (perhaps modern Pornak), and Tidu.313 At that time, the king also placed Šura (modern Savur) in the Tur Abdin under his direct control.314 In 866 bc, after the expedition to the Mediterranean coast (section 37.6.1.4), Ashurnasirpal returned to the upper Tigris region by a different route.315 The Assyrian army marched north from Qipanu on the upper reaches of the Balikh and reached the Amadanu and Arqania mountains, which correspond in etymology and geographical position to modern Maden (in the Elazığ Province of Turkey) and Ergani (in the Diyarbakır Province). The Assyrian forces conquered the region and placed the land of Mallanu under direct Assyrian control as an enclave. The army then moved south to recapture Damdammusa, which had been seized by Ashurnasirpal’s former protégé Ilanu of Bit-​Zamani, who had proved an unworthy client ruler and unreliable ally. Although this did not 310. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 23–​25. 311. Sano 2015b. 312. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 2–​9, 100–​101. Note that Ištar-​emuqaya, who served as Assyrian year eponym in 867 bc, was the governor of Tušhan according to his stele at Assur: Andrae 1913: 75–​76 no. 99; Millard 1994: 26, 56, 97. 313. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: ll. 92–​95. On Sinabu, see Cancik-​Kirschbaum and Hess 2016: 133–​134; Ziegler and Langlois 2016: 337–​338; Bagg 2017: 531–​532. 314. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: ll. 102–​ 103. On Šura, see Radner 2006: 292; Kessler 2013. 315. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 92–​113; see Liverani 1992: 81–​86, 96.

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lead to the capture of Amedi (modern Diyarbakır), the capital of Bit-​ Zamani, that kingdom must have been subjugated to Assyria by the end of Ashurnasirpal’s reign, as his successor Shalmaneser III began his reign in full control of this region.316

37.6.1.2. The east The mountain region to the east of Arbela was the target area of the first campaign of Ashurnasirpal II after he acceded to the throne, in the first regnal year of 883 bc.317 After plundering the high plain of Nimme (perhaps in or near modern Rowanduz), the Assyrian army descended on the Habriuru plateau and then advanced to the mountainous region to the northeast.318 In the Zagros range, Ashurnasirpal II found his greatest challenge in Zamua/​Mazamua. Both Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​Ninurta II had campaigned against this region, and this had resulted in local leaders submitting to the Assyrian king, without, however, firmly establishing Assyrian rule. Three military expeditions were launched against Zamua between 881 bc and 880 bc, either because local leaders had rebelled or had suspended the delivery of tribute.319 Early in 881 bc, Ashurnasirpal marched against Nur-​Adad, the sheikh of the land of Dagara, who controlled the Babitu Pass, which corresponds to the modern Bazian Pass that leads across the Qara Dagh and Baranand Dagh ranges into the Shahrizor Plain.320 After having returned to the homeland over the summer, the Assyrian forces returned already in the fall of 881 bc and advanced further into the interior of Zamua, raiding in particular the settlements at the foot of Mount Nimuš (modern Pir-​a Magrun).321 In the spring of 880 bc, they launched a full-​scale attack on the Shahrizor Plain and its 316. Liverani 1992: 113; Yamada 2000: 72. 317. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 69–​99; see Liverani 1992: 19–​28, 87. 318. Bagg 2020: 435. 319. On these campaigns, see Liverani 1992: 45–​56, 89–​92; Yamada 2020: 169–​173. 320. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 23–​33. 321. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 33–​49.

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surroundings, defeating Araštua, ruler of Ammali, and Ameka, ruler of Zamru, who was the area’s most powerful leader.322 During the second and third of these campaigns, the Assyrian army used an outpost called Tukulti-​Aššur-​aṣbat as its base, which had been established after the capture of the city of Arrakdu (likely located in or around the modern city of Sulaymaniyah),323 either by Adad-​nerari II or Tukulti-​Ninurta II. In addition, Ashurnasirpal II seized the city of Atlila (perhaps located in Yasin Tepe) and turned it into another Assyrian outpost, called Dur-​Aššur.324

37.6.1.3. The west The local polities along the Khabur valley and the adjacent Euphrates region, namely Laqê, Hindanu, and Suhu, had submitted to Assyrian domination as a result of the invasions under Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​ Ninurta II. However, the region was bordered by the Aramean kingdom of Bit-​Adini to the west and Babylonia to the south, and these major powers were perceived by some of the smaller polities as a credible alternative to the Assyrian claim to sovereignty. Triggered by the local interventions of these two powers, Ashurnasirpal II led three campaigns to the Khabur-​Euphrates region, waging a series of “proxy wars” against Bit-​Adini and Babylonia. In the fall of 883 bc, the first year of Ashurnasirpal’s reign, a coup d’état affected Bit-​Halupe, a powerful tribe residing on the lower reaches of the Khabur in the region known as Laqê, and this was clearly triggered by an intervention from Bit-​Adini. The tribal leader Hamataya, a loyal ally to Assyria who had promptly paid tribute to Tukulti-​Ninurta II upon his arrival in the Khabur valley,325 was killed and replaced by 322. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 49–​84. 323. For the localization of Arrakdu, see Radner 2017: 427–​428 (also on the basis of the fragmentary toponym mentioned in a Neo-​Assyrian legal tablet from Tell Sitak). 324. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 84–​86. For the possible identification of Yasin Tepe with Dur-​Aššur, see Radner 2017: 428; 2018a: 212; Nishiyama 2020: 48–​49. 325. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 101–​102.

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Ahiyaba, a man from Bit-​Adini.326 The Assyrian forces were quickly dispatched to suppress the coup and captured Ahiyaba, bringing him to Nineveh to be executed. Ashurnasirpal appointed a certain Azi-​ili as the new leader, but this proved a bad choice as he later rebelled.327 Situated on the Euphrates at the border with Babylonia, Suhu was governed by a hereditary dynasty of local rulers who used the title “governor (šaknu) of Suhu,” and the realm had been able to maintain its independence despite frequent Assyrian and Babylonian interventions. Ashurnasirpal’s annals proudly recorded how in 882 bc, immediately after the war with Bit-​Halupe, a governor of Suhu by the name of Ili-​ ibni finally came to Nineveh to pay tribute.328 However, this ruler was later replaced by a man named Kudurru, who appeared to be supported by Babylonia, and in 878 bc, the Assyrian army therefore marched on Suhu and attacked its capital city of Suru (modern as-​Sur).329 Nabû-​apla-​ iddina, king of Babylon, supported Suhu against the Assyrian assault by sending reinforcements led by the diviner Bel-​apla-​iddina, but the Assyrian forces managed to defeat the Babylonian army and to seize not only Bel-​apla-​iddina but also Zabdanu, the king’s brother. The capture of Suru ended the battle, and although Kudurru escaped, he eventually surrendered to Ashurnasirpal, as indicated by the depiction of Kudurru offering tribute to the Assyrian king on one of the bronze bands surviving from a monumental gate from Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat; figure 37.6).330 However, the struggle for control over the Khabur-​ Euphrates region did not end, and the Assyrian army was soon forced to return when the leaders of Laqê, Hindanu, and Suhu, including Azi-​ili of 326. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 74–​99; see Liverani 1992: 29–​33, 87–​88. 327. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 76–​96. 328. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 99–​101. 329. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 1–​26; see Liverani 1992: 63–​68, 93. On Suru, see Kessler 2013. 330. Curtis and Tallis 2008: 168–​169 figs. 67–​68: Band MM Ash II L6; and cf. also 136–​137 figs. 35–​36: Band BM Ash II R7; 178–​179 figs. 77–​78: Band MM Ash II R3.

Figure 37.6.  One of the embossed strips of bronze that once served to bind together the cedar planks of a monumental door commissioned by Ashurnasirpal II at Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat), depicting Kudurru, the governor of Suhu (identified by the cuneiform label), delivering tribute to the Assyrian ruler, who is shown seated atop a rickshaw-​style movable throne. Drawing by Marjorie Howard, adapted and combined into one image from Curtis and Tallis 2008: 169, Fig. 68.

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Bit-​Halupe, formed an alliance and mounted a joint rebellion against Assyrian domination;331 the exact date is unknown, but presumably this happened already in 877 bc, in the year immediately following the previous Assyrian campaign to the region. Although there is no direct mention of this in the extant sources, it would appear that Bit-​Adini assisted this alliance.332 The Assyrian army rushed to the Khabur valley, taking the shortest route across the steppe of the Jezirah that stretches between the Tigris and that river, most likely the road along the southern foothills of Jebel Sinjar.333 Although the fighting extended as far as the west bank of the Euphrates and the border with Bit-​Adini, the Assyrian forces managed to suppress the rebellion, and with that, established secure control over the region at last. Two new Assyrian outposts called Kar-​Ashurnasirpal and Nebarti-​Aššur were built as bridgeheads on both banks of the Euphrates. The discovery of a votive inscription from the reign of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc) at Tell Masaikh that mentions Kar-​Ashurnasirpal makes it extremely likely that this place is to be identified with Tell Masaikh, situated on the eastern bank of the Euphrates.334 While the region of Laqê probably became an Assyrian province at this time, Hindanu and Suhu appear to have remained under local leadership, as envoys from Suhu and Hindanu were listed among the delegates from other client states as attending Ashurnasirpal’s festivities on the occasion of the inauguration of the Northwest Palace in Kalhu (section 37.6.2).335

331. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 26–​50; see Liverani 1992: 69–​72, 94. 332. Liverani 1992: 94. 333. Liverani 1992: 94. 334. For the (still unpublished) votive inscription of a certain Adad-​bel to the god Nabû, which refers to Adad-​nerari III of Assyria (810–​783 bc) and Nergal-​ereš, governor of the Assyrian province of Raṣappa, and mentions Kar-​Ashurnasirpal as being located on the bank of the Euphrates, see Masetti-​Rouault 2014: 63–​64. 335. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30: ll. 143–​144. For the localization of Laqê, Hindanu, and Suhu and their administrative position within the Assyrian Empire, see Radner 2002: 4–​7.

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37.6.1.4. Further west: new horizons After successfully conquering the area from the Khabur valley to the adjoining Euphrates region and thus regaining control over most of the lands inside the traditional borders of Assyria, Ashurnasirpal II marched against Bit-​Adini at some point between 876 bc and 868 bc. After the Assyrian forces captured the fortress Kaprabu,336 Bit-​Adini apparently abandoned resistance, and Ahuni of Bit-​Adini and also Habinu of Til-​ abni paid tribute. In the next year, and therefore at some point between 875 bc and 867 bc, Ashurnasirpal embarked on another expedition to the west,337 which was unlike any of his other campaigns. Not only did he cross the Euphrates, the traditional Assyrian boundary, and march westward, for the first time since Tiglath-​pileser I (section 37.2.1), the expedition involved very little fighting on the way, as the troops collected tribute, horses, chariots, infantry, and other war materials from the kings and leaders of each region. The Assyrian forces first targeted Carchemish, the capital of the most prominent successor state to the Hittite Empire (­chapter 30 in volume 3), formerly an arch rival of the Assyrian kingdom. After having collected tribute and troops in Bit-​Bahiani, Bit-​Adini, and the other polities on the way to the Euphrates, the Assyrian army crossed the river without encountering any resistance and arrived at Carchemish, where Ashurnasirpal received tribute and troops from its ruler Sangara, “king of Hatti.” Although there are currently no texts that discuss this, it is very likely that Bit-​Adini and Carchemish had already submitted to Assyria before that campaign. Crucially, some of the scenes depicted on the bronze bands of Ashurnasirpal’s monumental gates from Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat) document wars against settlements on the great bend of the Euphrates that are not mentioned in the annals, and in particular 336. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 59–​56; see Liverani 1992: 72, 95; Bagg 2011: 192. On Kaprabu, see Bagg 2007: 133–​134. 337. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 56–​92; see Liverani 1992: 73–​80, 95–​96; Bagg 2011: 192–​194, Karte 4.1.

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cities of Bit-​Adini and Carchemish (Hatti), as identified by cuneiform labels.338 Although the exact date of these otherwise unrecorded wars is unclear, they certainly took place before Ashurnasirpal’s great expedition to the Mediterranean coast,339 as this scenario best explains the acquiescence and support of the rulers of Bit-​Adini and Carchemish on his way to the sea. Invigorated and strengthened by the addition of auxiliary forces, the Assyrian army marched further west, following the route along the flanks of the Taurus to the kingdom of Patin (Luwian Falastin) in the Amuq plain of the Orontes, stopping at its capital city of Kunulua (also Kullania; modern Tell Tayinat). King Lubarna of Patin did not resist the Assyrian army when it crossed the Orontes and seized the fortified city of Aribua in Patin, turning it into an Assyrian outpost. Having thus reached the Mediterranean Sea, Ashurnasirpal there received a number of precious goods sent to him from the Phoenician cities further down the coast, including (from north to south) Arwad, Byblos, Tyre, and Sidon.340 Finally, the Assyrian troops ascended into the nearby Amanus mountain range, where they obtained valuable timber before returning triumphantly to the Assyrian heartland.341 This expedition allowed Ashurnasirpal to acquire vast amounts of wealth, although some of these treasures, especially those received from Phoenician cities, may well have been obtained through trade rather than by sheer force.342 Procuring timber was likely one of the king’s most 338. Curtis and Tallis 2008: figs. 25–​26: Band BM Ash II R2 (Bit-​Adini); figs. 35–​ 36: Band BM Ash II R7 (Suhu); figs. 57–​58: Band MM Ash II L1 (Carchemish); figs. 59–​60: Band MM Ash II L2 (Mount Urina); figs. 61–​62: Band MM Ash II L3 (tribute); figs. 67–​68: Band MM Ash II L6 (Suhu); figs. 69–​70: Band MM Ash II L7 (campaign); figs. 71–​72: Band MM Ash II L8 (timber transport); figs. 73–​74: Band MM Ash II R1 (Suhu); figs. 75–​76: Band MM Ash II R2 (Bit-​Adini); figs. 77–​78: Band MM Ash II R3 (tribute); figs. 87–​88: Band MM Ash II R8 (tribute). 339. Yamada 2000: 73–​76. 340. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 84–​88. 341. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 84–​90. 342. Liverani 1992: 95–​96.

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important objectives, and the valuable wood beams are said to have been dedicated to the temples of the gods Aššur, Sin, Šamaš, and Ištar of Nineveh,343 to be used for the construction of the roofs of their temples. However, most of the wealth amassed during the trip to the Mediterranean would have been used for the construction of the new capital city of Kalhu (section 37.6.2), which was still ongoing at the time.344

37.6.2.  Building a new capital fit for an empire: the city of Kalhu Using the vast wealth acquired in the course of his campaigns and the labor of large numbers of deportees,345 Ashurnasirpal II undertook extensive building projects in several cities.346 He rebuilt the temple of Ištar in Nineveh,347 and in Assur the Aššur temple and the shrine dedicated to the celestial pair of the moon-​god Sin and the sun-​god Šamaš.348 Excavations at Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat) showed that he built a palace and the temple of the dream-​god Mamu there.349 The king’s by far most important building project was the new capital city of Kalhu, located on the east bank of the Tigris just north of its confluence with the Upper Zab, approximately 35 km downstream of Nineveh.350 In the late second millennium bc, Kalhu had only been a provincial capital, but in 879 bc, the fifth year of his reign, Ashurnasirpal began transforming and extending it into a huge city with the goal of

343. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 90–​92. 344. Russell 1999: 228. 345. Sano 2020: 125–​127. 346. For an overview of Ashurnasirpal’s building activities, see Russell 2017: 435–​438. 347. Reade 2005: 375–​378. 348. Werner 2009: 24–​25; Frahm 2009: 58 and nos. 23–​24. 349. Curtis and Tallis 2008: 7–​22. 350. On Kalhu, see Postgate and Reade 1980; Oates and Oates 2001.

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relocating the political center of the state from the traditional Assyrian capital of Assur to this new, much grander setting.351 Ashurnasirpal built a huge new city wall, which is almost rectangular in shape and encloses a vast area of approximately 360 hectares. Situated in the southwest corner of these fortifications is the ancient settlement mound that was now turned into a citadel, covering an area of approximately 20 hectares and surrounded by its own wall (figure 37.7). A magnificent new canal was constructed that drew its water from the Upper Zab and served to provide irrigation for Kalhu, in particular a newly created botanical garden that housed a huge variety of trees and rare plants that Ashurnasirpal had assembled on his expeditions.352 On the northwest side of the citadel, Ashurnasirpal built a huge palace, which its excavators called the Northwest Palace, based on its location.353 It measures over 200 m from north to south and at least 120 m from east to west. Its outer and inner entrances were lined with pairs of colossal statues of human-​faced, winged bulls that depicted divine guardians called lamassu in Assyrian. The palace’s interior walls were decorated with wall paintings, friezes of multicolored glazed bricks, and especially stone wall cladding decorated in low relief depictions of diverse subject matter that nevertheless all closely focused on the king, showing him and his forces successful in open battle, siege warfare, and hunting, as the recipient of tribute and gifts from the client states, and as the center of court life, as well as chosen and protected by the divine (figure 37.8).354 The decorative program of the new palace featured elements that previously had been used in Assyrian palace architecture, as demonstrated

351. In the annals and on the Nimrud Monolith, the construction of Kalhu is mentioned after the expedition in the fifth year of his reign: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 131–​135; A.0.101.17: v 1–​24. Furthermore, from the sixth year, the Assyrian army set out from Kalhu for expeditions. 352. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.17: v 5–​8; A.0.101.30: ll. 36–​52; see Oates and Oates 2001: 33–​34. 353. For the palace and its architecture, see Postgate and Reade 1980: 311–​314; Oates and Oates 2001: 36–​70; Kertai 2015: 18–​48 (with previous literature). 354. Meuszyński 1981; Paley and Sobolewski 1987; 1992; Russell 1998.

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Figure 37.7. The citadel of Kalhu (modern Nimrud). Reproduced from Kertai 2015: pl. 3.

Figure 37.8.  The scene of the stone wall decoration placed directly behind the royal throne in the throne room of Ashurnasirpal II’s Northwest Palace in Kalhu, matching a parallel scene placed opposite of the main entrance into this room. British Museum, ANE 124531. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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by the extant remains of and textual references to the buildings of Tiglath-​pileser I.355 However, certain elements of the Northwest Palace’s decorative concept appear to have been modeled on the palace architecture of the western kingdoms, possibly in particular the royal palace of Carchemish, which Ashurnasirpal is known to have visited.356 That the reliefs and other palace decorations were not installed in the Northwest Palace until after the Mediterranean expedition is evident from the fact that the majority of the inscriptions engraved on the wall panels and the colossal statues refer to this event.357 However, the western templates were not simply imitated, but rather adapted and “Assyrianized.” Perhaps most significantly, while stone reliefs were placed on the outside facades of western palaces, their counterparts at Kalhu were placed inside the rooms and the courtyards in the Northwest Palace, and also Ashurnasirpal’s inscriptions were engraved all over the interior of the palace.358 By developing and adapting existing models from Assyria and elsewhere, the Northwest Palace was a significant departure from traditional Assyrian palatial architecture and created an entirely new, “imperial” archetype that all future Assyrian palace buildings would follow. The magnificently decorated, huge palace was deliberately conceived as the ideological and operative center of a powerful state. The southern part of the palace consisted of small, simple rooms that were likely used for all sorts of domestic services needed for running the palace.359 Underneath these same rooms, and therefore far removed from the richly decorated parts of the palace accessible to Assyrian dignitaries and foreign envoys, lie the vaulted underground chambers where members of the royal family were put to their final rest, thus following the general Assyrian tradition of burying the dead inside and underneath the family home. Among others, Mullissu-​mukannišat-​Ninua, the queen of

355. Kertai 2015: 14–​15; see section 37.2.3. 356. Russell 1999: 229–​231. 357. Russell 1999: 227–​229. 358. Kertai 2015: 18–​19. 359. Oates and Oates 2001: 61–​68; Kertai 2015: 44–​47.

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Ashurnasirpal, was buried here with a wealth of luxurious goods befitting her elevated social status, including supremely rich and exquisitely crafted personal jewelry.360 However, Ashurnasirpal and also the succeeding kings continued to be buried in underground tombs constructed underneath the Old Palace in Assur,361 as their predecessors had been, and thus very publicly demonstrated their continued close affinity with the ancient center of the realm. Sometime after his expedition to the Mediterranean coast, Ashurnasirpal held a grand banquet to celebrate the inauguration of this new royal palace, attended by 69,574 male and female guests, including dignitaries from the neighboring countries from the Zagros Mountains to the Mediterranean. The festivities lasted for ten days; as part of the sumptuous feasting, 1,000 spring lambs, 500 deer, 10,000 jugs of beer, and a great many other dishes were served, according to the detailed list included in the inscription of the so-​called Banquet Stele, set up in the inner courtyard leading to the throne room.362 Ashurnasirpal also built a range of temples in his new capital Kalhu. The Banquet Stele documents the construction of nine temples dedicated to different deities, including Enlil and Ninurta, who both had close links to Assyrian kingship.363 However, no temple was dedicated to the state-​god Aššur, who was inseparably connected to the city of Assur, where his only temple stood. The new temples of Ninurta, Nabû, and of two hypostases of the goddess Ištar—​ Šarrat-​ niphi, “Shining Queen,” and Belet-​ Kidmuri, “Mistress of the divine Kidmuru”364—​have been excavated.365 As in the 360. Hussein et al. 2016. 361. Lundström 2009. 362. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30: ll. 102–​154; for the banquet, see Finet 1992. 363. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30: ll. 53–​60. 364. The first hypostasis is Ištar as Venus (Meinhold 2009: 149–151), while the meaning of Kidmuru is unclear. 365. Postgate and Reade 1980: 308–​311; Oates and Oates 2001: 105–​123; Reade 2002. The temple of Nabû, as excavated, was mostly built at a later date, in the reign of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc).

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Northwest Palace, the entrances to the shrines were guarded by colossal stone guardian statues, here typically in the shape of the deities’ sacred animals, and the temple interior was partially adorned with stone panels with relief decorations and royal inscriptions.366 Their cellae were paved with enormous alabaster tiles that served as the dais for the statue of the respective deity, and the king had his inscriptions, including his lengthy annals, engraved on these slabs. The most magnificent among the excavated sanctuaries are the temples of Ninurta and of Šarrat-​niphi, which were situated on the north side of the Northwest Palace and possibly formed part of a larger temple complex.367 Ninurta clearly takes precedence among the deities worshipped at Kalhu. In his inscriptions, Ashurnasirpal also specifically mentions the creation of a new statue and dais for Ninurta and his temple and that it was arranged to have two great cult festivals held at the sanctuary in the months of Šabaṭu and Ululu.368 By doing so, Ashurnasirpal invited Ninurta to be the patron deity of his new capital. Ninurta was suitable because he was the son of the god Aššur, i.e., the divine crown prince. Although his reasons for the relocation of the Assyrian capital are not explicitly mentioned in any of Ashurnasirpal’s inscriptions, the key objective certainly was the attempt to concentrate power in the hands of the king,369 who likely desired to keep the prominent families of Assur at bay, who traditionally played an important role in the state administration and continued to have a strong influence.370 After the relocation of the royal court to Kalhu, the most important positions in the state were increasingly filled with eunuchs of uncertain origins who were loyal only to the king.371 One of these eunuchs was Nergal-​apil-​kumu’a,

366. Oates and Oates 2001: 107–​110; Reade 2002: 167–​193. 367. Reade 2002: 137, 191–193. 368. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ll. 132–​135; A.0.101.30: ll. 73–​75; see Pongratz-​Leisten 2015: 407–​409. 369. Radner 2011: 323–​325. 370. Frahm 2017: 170. 371. Radner 2011: 324.

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whom Ashurnasirpal appointed as the palace manager and city overseer of Kalhu,372 thereby entrusting him with the important task of relocating the court and the state administration to the new capital. Kalhu was likely chosen as the site of the new capital because of its geostrategic location, situated right in the middle of the triangle formed by the cities Assur, Nineveh, and Arbela, the Assyrian heartland. The relocation of the Assyrian state administration to Kalhu, where it remained for 150 years until Sargon II built the new capital city of Dur-​Šarrukin (Khorsabad), resulted in major structural changes affecting the entire Assyrian heartland, and the nascent empire. This was certainly deliberate, as the king thereby was able to suppress the political influence of the ancient families of not only Assur but also Nineveh and Arbela.373 Nevertheless, even after the monumental political changes resulting from the move to Kalhu, the city of Assur remained firmly at the center of the state cult. Every spring, the king stayed in the city for several weeks in order to participate in the grand festivities at the temple of the god Aššur.374 Importantly, Ashurnasirpal II and the succeeding Assyrian kings returned upon their death permanently to Assur, where they were buried in the royal tombs under the Old Palace.375

37.6.3.  Assyrian governance at the dawn of empire Ashurnasirpal II conducted his military campaigns almost entirely inside the traditional borders of Assyria, and his objective was clearly to consolidate control rather than acquire new territories.376 This aim was largely achieved, as this king in effect completed the territorial reacquisition that had begun the reign of his great-​grandfather Aššur-​dan II. The

372. Kataja and Whiting 1995: nos. 82 and 83–​84. 373. As discussed by Radner 2011: 323–​325. 374. Maul 2000b; Pongratz-​Leisten 2015: 409–​416. 375. Lundström 2009. 376. Liverani 1992: 115.

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only exception was the conquest of the Aramean kingdom of Bit-​Adini in the great bend of Euphrates, which was only achieved in the early reign of his son and successor Shalmaneser III (859–​824 bc). Like his predecessors, Ashurnasirpal II routinely deported local population groups as part of military engagement in various regions, settling these people in other territories under his control.377 During his reign, the large-​scale construction work at the new capital city of Kalhu profited enormously from this influx of labor (section 37.6.2). Compared to the strategies employed already under his predecessors Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​Ninurta II, the most important innovation in Ashurnasirpal’s concept of governance was the appointment of governors, which is mentioned frequently in his royal inscriptions but rarely referred to in those of his predecessors. The following passage, which is repeated in many of his inscriptions, asserts that Ashurnasirpal appointed a governor for each of the lands under his control: In the lands where I ruled, I appointed my governors for each. They performed a service for me and I imposed upon them corvée.378 Specific episodes in the king’s annals make it clear that this general statement reflects concrete actions, implemented once Assyrian control was achieved over a region, and not just a vague ambition: after his decisive victories against Bit-​Halupe on the Euphrates, in Nairi, and in the region around Mount Amadanu (modern Maden) and Mount Arqania (modern Ergani), Ashurnasirpal appointed governors over each of these places.379 It is likely that upon their appointment, the new governors were issued with documents of appointment, such as the one prepared

377. Sano 2020: 107–​127. 378. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 125–​126 with (partially diverging) parallels; see Yamada 2000: 303; Liverani 2004: 214–​215; Sano 2015a: 324–​325. 379. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 75, 89 (Suru in Bit-​Halupe); A.0.101.19: ll. 99–​100 (Nairi); A.0.101.1: iii 104 (Mount Amadanu).

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for Nergal-​apil-​kumu’a (section 37.6.2), although such texts have not been found to date. During the reigns of Adad-​nerari II and Tukulti-​Ninurta II, the territories entrusted to governors had been limited to the central region of Assyria that had been retained even during the period of decline, as well as those territories that had rebelled against Assyrian domination after first submitting, such as Katmuhu.380 Evidently, Ashurnasirpal aimed to divide the entire territory of Assyria into provinces entrusted to the rule of governors that had been appointed by him personally, and he was able to realize this to some extent.381 However, despite the policy of appointing governors, the local dynasties were not yet completely abolished; unlike in the late second millennium bc when there was a clear difference between governors and hereditary local rulers, the distinction was blurred.382 Ashurnasirpal’s inscriptions indicate that frequently, members of the local elite were entrusted with the governance of territories that had been newly brought under direct Assyrian control, such as the lands on the upper reaches of the Tigris, in the Khabur valley, and the adjoining Euphrates region. In particular, dynasts whose clans had been loyal to the Assyrian king for generations, such as the rulers of Šadikanni and Bit-​Bahiani, were given leave to continue to rule their territories as governors, and this remained the case well into the reign of Shalmaneser III. The inscription makes it clear that as governors, they were required to pay tribute and to offer hostages, as had the local rulers of the past.383 At least some of these governors continued to act as local kings in their regions. Mušezib-​Ninurta, the “vice-​regent” of Šadikanni (so the traditional title of his dynasty), had colossal human-​headed bull statues made for the entrance of his palace, with his name inscribed on 380. Liverani 1992: 103; see section 37.5.4. 381. Liverani 2004: 217. 382. Yamada 2000: 303–​305. For local rulers acknowledging Assyrian sovereignty during the late second millennium bc, see Shibata 2012. 383. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.53: l. 6; A.0.101.56: ll. 12–​14; A.0.101.1: iii 104; see Sano 2015a: 325.

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them.384 Adad-​it’i, a descendant of the former kings of Bit-​Bahiani who was appointed governor of Guzana during the reign of Shalmaneser III, made the ambiguous position he held within the Assyrian state explicit in the Akkadian-​Aramaic bilingual inscription engraved on his statue: in the Akkadian version, he referred to himself as a “governor” (šaknu), while in the Aramaic version, he self-​identified as a “king” (mlk).385 To a certain degree, the governors appointed to rule in the Assyrian king’s stead over newly integrated territories appear to have been controlled by the outposts established in these regions. In addition to the strongholds already in existence,386 Ashurnasirpal established new ones, typically in highly strategic locations.387 Thus, the strongholds of Kar-​Ashurnasirpal and Nebarti-​Aššur were built on opposite banks of the Euphrates and clearly served as bridgeheads that secured an important crossing point of the Euphrates.388 The newly created outposts in the far west (Aribua in Patin), in the east (Dur-​Aššur/​Atlila in Zamua/​Mazamua), and in the north (in the region of Mallanu near Mount Arqania) probably served as Assyrian trading posts on the Mediterranean coast, in the Zagros mountain region, and in inner

384. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2007. On the architecture and the sculptures, see most recently Nadali 2016. 385. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2004: ll. 8, 19 (Akkadian version); Abou-​Assaf et al. 1982: 23: ll. 6, 13 (Aramaic version); see also Yamada 2000: 305. 386. For instance, Damdammusa: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: i 103, iii 105; A.0.101.19: ll. 96–​97; Tukulti-​Aššur-​aṣbat: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 48, 77–​78; and Dur-​ Katlimmu: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 6. Note also a fragment of a wall relief whose style matches that of the time of Ashurnasirpal II that was excavated at Dur-​Katlimmu, as this may indicate that a provincial palace was built in this city: Kühne 1988–​1989: 145, 157 fig. 17; cf. Russell 2017b: 475. 387. Land of Mallanu: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 101; Tušha(n): Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 2–​9, 12–​14, 100–​102, 117–​118; A.0.101.19: ll. 96–​97; Sinabu and Tidu: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: ll. 92–​95 and 96–​97; Udu: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 110–​ 113; Šura: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: ll. 102–​ 103; Tillê/​Tiluli: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 87; Kar-​Ashurnasirpal and Nebarti-​ Aššur: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 49–​50; Aribua: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 81–​82; Dur-​Aššur: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 84–​86. 388. Liverani 1992: 95, 114.

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Anatolia, respectively.389 The outpost in Mallanu may have been specifically set up in order to control local copper mining, as it was established right next to the rich copper deposits of Ergani-​Maden;390 at that time, copper was the currency used by the Assyrian state; it was replaced in this role by silver only much later, in the reign of Sargon II.391 Ashurnasirpal II also reconfigured the existing provinces that were already ruled by governors. For Katmuhu, where he built a new provincial palace in the city of Tillê/​Tiluli, likely located at modern Tell Rumailan (or alternatively at nearby Tell Jilaga),392 later sources indicate that by the reign of Adad-​nerari III, the region had been divided into a province centered on this city and the province of Šahuppa,393 and the administrative division of Katmuhu was likely set in motion by Ashurnasirpal. Early in the reign of Shalmaneser III, the implementation of the new system of governance that relied exclusively on outsiders appointed by the king as governors was completed for the Assyrian territories. Ahuni of Bit-​Adini, Assyria’s last remaining antagonist, was defeated in 855 bc, the fourth year of Shalmaneser’s reign, and by his sixth year (853 bc), the regions along the Balikh and Euphrates that had not yet been occupied were gradually incorporated into the Assyrian territory, with further outposts being established there.394 After this turning point, the king’s attention was no longer focused on consolidating and restructuring the interior of his realm. Instead, Shalmaneser was able to conduct a series of campaigns to the lands west of the Euphrates, north of the Taurus, and east of the Zagros, i.e., the regions that even the greatest Assyrian kings of the past had not been able to dominate. Unlike the Mediterranean

389. Liverani 1992: 99, 131. 390. Liverani 1992: 84–​85, 96, 113–​114. 391. Radner 1999: 128–​129. 392. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 87; see Kessler 1980: 9–​15; Radner 2006: 190; Bagg 2017: 600–​601, 609. 393. Kessler 1980: 16–​21; Radner 2008a: 53. 394. Yamada 2000: 123–​129, 137–​139, 150–​152, 300–​305.

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expedition of Ashurnasirpal II, these were not peaceful operations. With an army nearly three times larger than that of Ashurnasirpal’s time,395 Shalmaneser embarked on a program of conquest that targeted the countries outside of Assyria’s traditional territory, thus forging an empire that was larger than ever before (­chapters 38–​40 in this volume).

37.7.  Assyria’s cultic and scholarly traditions Despite the temporary decline of the Assyrian kingdom from the late eleventh century bc onward, the cultic and scholarly traditions in the cities of the heartland, such as Assur and Nineveh, continued uninterrupted. The continuation of these traditions is prominently highlighted by the hymns and prayers composed for generations of Assyrian kings, from Tiglath-​pileser I to Shalmaneser III and also including rulers of the period of recession, such as Shalmaneser II (1030–​1019 bc).396 This same ruler also dedicated cedar balsam to the sanctuaries in the city of Assur.397 Assyrian manuscripts of literary and scholarly texts written in the late second millennium bc are known from Nineveh and especially Assur, where a great many such texts have been excavated in the southwestern courtyard of the Aššur temple and in the Anu-​Adad temple complex.398 The oldest manuscripts were created between the twelfth and early eleventh centuries bc, according to the eponyms mentioned in their colophons,399 and were found together with Babylonian manuscripts from

395. Liverani 2004: 215–​216. 396. E.g., Tiglath-​pileser I (Schaudig 2020: no. 6); Šamši-​Adad IV ( Jakob 2018: no. 1; Schaudig 2020: no. 45); Ashurnasirpal I (von Soden 1974–​1977: 38–​45; Frahm 2009: nos. 77–​ 78?; Meinhold 2009: nos. 2–​ 3); Shalmaneser II ( Jakob 2018: no. 2; Meinhold 2009: no. 5); Adad-​nerari II ( Jakob 2018: no. 3); Ashurnasirpal II (Ebeling 1919–​23: no. 342; 1953: no. 64; Schaudig 2020: no. 2); Shalmaneser III (Schaudig 2020: no. 7). 397. Schroeder 1920: no. 78; for an edition see Meinhold 2009: 479–​482. 398. Weidner 1952–​53; Pedersén 1985: 31–​42; 1986: 12–​28; Heeßel 2017: 370–​371. 399. Freydank 1991: 94–​97; 2016: 50–​51, 100–​101, 128–​129.

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the late second millennium bc, as well as various documents written between the late tenth and the early eighth centuries bc. Although it is not clear where and for what purpose the Assyrian and Babylonian manuscripts had been assembled originally, it is worth noting that these old texts were still kept in the Aššur temple during the Neo-​Assyrian period, proving that an uninterrupted scholarly tradition existed in Assur that reached back centuries. As shown by the carefully maintained Babylonian manuscripts, the scholars of Assur had great respect for Babylonian scholarship. By the eleventh century bc, they were no longer obsequious to Babylonian traditions, but clearly took great pride in Assur being a center of original scholarship and no longer followed the Babylonian lead. A good example is provided by the new series of physiognomic and diagnostic texts that Esangil-​kin-​apli, an eminent scholar in the service of Adad-​apla-​ iddina of Babylon (1068–​1047 bc), a contemporary of Aššur-​bel-​kala (1073–​1056 bc), compiled with the aim of replacing the existing edition. This new series was indeed embraced by Babylonian scholars, whereas the scholars of Assur adamantly kept using the traditional series.400 Since the late second millennium bc, scholars of different prognostic and therapeutic disciplines served the Assyrian kings as his advisors at court, with the singular position of the “king’s scholar” at the highest distinction available to them.401 In the Synchronistic King List, the name of a king was sometimes accompanied by the name of the “king’s scholar” who served him.402 Gabbu-​ilani-​ereš, who served both Tukulti-​Ninurta II (890–​884 bc) and his son Ashurnasirpal II (883–​ 859 bc) in this capacity, deserves special mention here, as he was the founding father of a family that provided the royal court of Assyria with several generations of “king’s scholars” in the eighth and seventh centuries bc.403

400. Heeßel 2010. 401. Jakob 2003: 522–​535; Heeßel 2010: 164–​167; 2017: 371–​372. 402. Chen 2020: 32–​34. 403. Chen 2020: 32–​33: iii 16–​19; cf. Hunger and Radner 1999.

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37.8.  In conclusion In the second half of the second millennium bc, the system of Assyrian territorial rule was traditionally based on structuring the territories into provinces under the control of governors appointed by the king (­chapter 32 in volume 3). This system collapsed in the course of the eleventh century bc, and the decline of Assyrian power reached its nadir in the first half of the tenth century bc. However, in the late tenth and early ninth centuries bc, the kingdom of Assyria proceeded to reconquer the lost territories and gradually rebuilt its army. The reconquest was largely completed in the reign of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc). While many Assyrian traditions of the second millennium bc, such as the ancient practice to appoint a year eponym and the cultic and scholarly traditions practiced in Assur and elsewhere in the Assyrian heartland, continued without interruption, the kingdom underwent major transformations in the time from the eleventh to the ninth century bc, and this profoundly shaped the future direction of the state. In conclusion, Ashurnasirpal II achieved far more than the final few victories that restored Assyria’s territory to its former extent. The strategies of territorial control and in particular the structure of the central administration that were established in his reign were very different from those of the late second millennium bc, highlighted by the radical decision to leave the city of Assur for a newly created capital city Kalhu. Thereby, this king accomplished the first, decisive steps toward the creation of an entirely newly conceived political entity: the Assyrian Empire. R ef er en c es Abou-​Assaf, A., Bordreuil, P., and Millard, A.R. 1982. La statue de Tell Fekherye et son inscription bilingue assyro-​araméenne. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les civilisations. Ahmad, A.Y. 2000. Excavation at Qadhiah: the texts of Tukulti-​Ninurta II (890–​884 BC). Al-​R āfidān 21: 51–​59. Andrae, W. 1913. Die Stelenreihen in Assur. Leipzig: Hinrichs.

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Bagg, A.M. 2007. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 1: die Levante. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Bagg, A.M. 2011. Die Assyrer und das Westland: Studien zur historischen Geographie und Herrschaftspraxis in der Levante im 1 Jt. v. u. Z. Leuven: Peeters. Bagg, A.M. 2017. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 2: Zentralassyrien und benachbarte Gebiete, Ägypten und die arabische Halbinsel. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Bagg, A.M. 2020. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 3: Babylonien, Urarṭu und die östlichen Gebiete. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Beaulieu, P.-​A. 2018. A history of Babylon: 2200 BC–​AD 75. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-​Blackwell. Bordreuil, P., and Briquel Chatonnet, F. 2000. Tiglath-​Phalasar Ier a-​t-​il pêché ou chassé le nâhiru? In Parayre, D. (ed.), Les animaux et les hommes dans le monde syro-​mésopotamien aux époques historiques. Lyon: Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée, 117–​124. Borger, R. 1961. Einleitung in die assyrischen Königsinschriften, 1: das zweite Jahrtausend v. Chr. Leiden: Brill. Brinkman, J.A. 1968. A political history of post-​Kassite Babylonia, 1158–​722 BC. Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum. Cancik-​Kirschbaum, E. 2008. Šadikanni. RlA 11: 485–​486. Cancik-​Kirschbaum, E. 2009. Ortsnamenreihungen als Quellen zur historischen Geographie: der Westen des mittelassyrischen Reiches unter Tukultī-​Ninurta I. In Cancik-​Kirschbaum, E., and Ziegler, N. (eds.), Entre les Fleuves, I: Untersuchungen zur historischen Geographie Obermesopotamiens im 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Gladbeck: PeWe-​Verlag, 121–​150. Cancik-​Kirschbaum, E., and Hess, C.W. 2016. Toponyme der mittelassyrischen Texte: der Westen des mittelassyrischen Reiches. Paris: Société pour l’étude du Proche-​Orient ancien. Chen, F. 2020. Study on the synchronistic king list from Ashur. Leiden: Brill. Curtis, J.E., and Tallis, N. 2008. The Balawat gates of Ashurnasirpal II. London: British Museum Press. De Odorico, M. 1994. Compositional and editorial processes of annalistic and summary texts of Tiglath-​pileser I. SAAB 8: 67–​112. Ebeling, E. 1919–​23. Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts. Leipzig: Hinrichs.

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Ebeling, E. 1953. Literarische Keilschrifttexte aus Assur. Berlin: Akademie-​Verlag. Edmonds, A.J. 2019. “Warum eroberst Du ohne Ende?”: studies in the birth of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. PhD thesis, Eberhard Karls Universität Tübingen. Eidem, J. 2018. Pakute: an Assyrian “ghost castle” on the Rania plain. Ash-​ Sharq 2: 30–​42. Fales, F.M. 2012. “Ḫanigalbat” in the early Neo-​Assyrian royal inscriptions: a retrospective view. In Galil, G., Gilboa, A., Maeir, A.M., and Kahn, D. (eds.), The ancient Near East in the 12th–​10th centuries BCE: culture and history. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 99–​119. Fales, F.M. 2017. Ethnicity in the Assyrian Empire: a view from the nisbe, III: “Arameans” and related tribalists. In Heffron, Y., Stone, A. und Worthington, M. (eds.), At the dawn of history: ancient Near Eastern studies in honour of J.N. Postgate. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 133–​177. Finet, A. 1992. Le banquet de Kalah offert par le roi d’Assyrie Ašurnasirpal II (883–​859). Res Orientales 4: 31–​44. Frahm, E. 2005. Observations on the name and age of Sargon II and on some patterns of Assyrian royal onomastics. NABU 2005: 46–​50 (no. 44). Frahm, E. 2009. Historische und historisch-​literarische Texte (Keilschrifttexte aus Assur literarischen Inhalts 3). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Frahm, E. 2016. Tukultī-​Ninurta II. RlA 14: 178–​179. Frahm, E. 2017. The Neo-​Assyrian period (ca. 1000–​609 BCE). In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 161–​208. Frame, G. 2011. Assyrian royal inscriptions. In George, A.R. (ed.), Cuneiform royal inscriptions and related texts in the Schøyen Collection. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 127–​152, pls. xlix–​lvii. Freydank, H. 1976. Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte. Berlin: Akademie-​Verlag. Freydank, H. 1991. Beiträge zur mittelassyrischen Chronologie und Geschichte. Berlin: Akademie-​Verlag. Freydank, H. 1994. Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte, vol. III. Berlin: Gebr. Mann. Freydank, H. 2005. Zu den Eponymenfolgen des 13. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. in Dūr-​Katlimmu. AoF 32: 45–​56. Freydank, H. 2016. Assyrische Jahresbeamte des 12. Jh. v. Chr.: Eponymen von Tukultī-​Ninurta I. bis Tukultī-​apil-​ešarra I. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Freydank, H., and Feller, B. 2004. Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte, vol. V. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag.

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Freydank, H., and Feller, B. 2007. Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte, vol. VIII. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Fuchs, A. 2000. Māt Ḫabḫi. In Marzahn, J., and Neumann, H. (eds.), Assyriologica et semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner. Münster: Ugarit-​ Verlag, 73–​94. Fuchs, A. 2011. Das Osttigrisgebiet von Agum II. bis zu Darius I. (ca. 1500 bis 500 v. Chr.). In Miglus, P.A., and Mühl, S. (eds.), Between the cultures: the central Tigris region from the 3rd to the 1st millennium BC. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 229–​320. Fuchs, A. 2020. Aufruf zur Eliminierung von “Sargon I.” und Sargon “II.” von Assyrien, sowie von “Sargon” von Akkad. In Baldwin, J., Matuszak, J., and Ceccarelli, M. (eds.), Mu-​zu an-​za3-​še3 kur-​ur2-​še3 ḫe2-​ĝal2: altorientalistische Studien zu Ehren von Konrad Volk. Münster: Zaphon, 69–​86. Gaspa, S. 2016. Uruatri. RlA 14: 445. Glassner, J.-​J. 2004. Mesopotamian chronicles. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Grayson, A.K. 1975. Assyrian and Babylonian chronicles. Locust Valley, NY: Augustin. Grayson, A.K. 1980. Assyria and Babylonia. Orientalia 49: 140–​194. Grayson, A.K. 1983. Königslisten und Chroniken, B: Akkadisch. RlA 6: 86–​135. Grayson, A.K. 1991. Assyrian rulers of the early first millennium BC, vol. I (1114–​859 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Grayson, A.K. 1996. Assyrian rulers of the early first millennium BC, vol. II (858–​745 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Grayson, A.K., and Novotny, J. 2014. The royal inscriptions of Sennacherib, king of Assyria (704–​681 BC), part 2. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Heeßel, N.P. 2010. Neues von Esagil-​kīn-​apli: die ältere Version der physiognomischen Omenserie alamdimmû. In Maul, S.M., and Heeßel, N.P. (eds.), Assur-​Forschungen. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 139–​187. Heeßel, N.P. 2017. Assyrian scholarship and scribal culture in Ashur. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 368–​377. Hunger, H., and Radner, K. 1999. Gabbu-​ilāni-​ēreš. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, vol. 1/​II: B-​G. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 414–​415. Hurowitz, V., and Goodnick Westenholz, J. 1990. LKA 63: a heroic poem in celebration of Tiglath-​pileser I’s Muṣru-​Qumanu campaign. JCS 42: 1–​49.

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Hussein, M.M., Altaweel, M., and Gibson, M. 2016. Nimrud: the queens’ tombs. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Jakob, S. 2003. Mittelassyrische Verwaltung und Sozialstruktur: Unter­ suchungen. Leiden: Brill. Jakob, S. 2018. Ritualbeschreibungen und Gebete, III (Keilschrifttexte aus Assur literarischen Inhalts 9). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Jeffers, J.A. 2013. Tiglath-​pileser I: a light in a “dark age.”  PhD thesis, University of Pennsylvania. Jeffers, J.A. 2017. The nonintercalated lunar calendar of the Middle Assyrian period. JCS 69: 151–​191. Kataja, L., and Whiting, R. 1995. Grants, decrees and gifts of the Neo-​Assyrian period. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Kertai, D. 2015. The architecture of late Assyrian royal palaces. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kessler, K. 1980. Untersuchungen zur historischen Topographie Nordmesopotamiens: nach keilschriftlichen Quellen des 1. Jahrtausends v. Chr. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Kessler, K. 2013. S/​Šūru. RlA 13: 333–​334. King, L.W. 1914. Cuneiform texts from Babylonian tablets in the British Museum, part 34. London: British Museum Publications. Klengel, H. 1990. Lullu(bum). RlA 7: 164–​168. Kühne, H. 1980. Zur Rekonstruktion der Feldzüge Adad-​nirari II., Tukulti-​ Ninurta II. und Assurnasirpal II. im Habur-​Gebiet. BaM 11: 40–​77. Kühne, H. 1987–​ 1988. Report on the excavation at Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad/​ Dūr-​Katlimmu 1988. Les Annales Archéologiques Arabes Syriennes 37–​ 38: 142–​157. Lipiński, E. 2000. The Aramaeans: their ancient history, culture, religion. Leuven: Peeters. Liverani, M. 1988. The growth of the Assyrian Empire in the Habur/​Middle Euphrates area: a new paradigm. SAAB 2: 81–​98. Liverani, M. 1992. Studies on the annals of Ashurnasirpal II, 2: topographical analysis. Rome: Università degli studi di Roma “La Sapienza.” Liverani, M. 2004. Assyria in the ninth century: continuity or change? In Frame, G. (ed.), From the upper sea to the lower sea: studies on the history of Assyria and Babylonia in honour of A.K. Grayson. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 213–​226.

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Liverani, M. 2014. The ancient Near East: history, society and economy. London and New York: Routledge. Llop, J. 2003. Die persönlichen Gründe Tiglat-​Pilesers I., Babylonien anzu­ greifen. Orientalia 72: 204–​210. Llop, J. 2008. Ṣaḫḫutu, šakin māti. Orientalia 77: 177–​185. Llop, J. 2011. Between Assyria and Babylonia in the East Tigris region during the reign of Tukultī-​Ninurta I (1233–​1197 BC). In Miglus, P.A., and Mühl, S. (eds.), Between the cultures: the central Tigris region from the 3rd to the 1st millennium BC. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 209–​215. Llop, J. 2012a. The development of the Middle Assyrian provinces. AoF 39: 87–​111. Llop, J. 2012b. Did the Assyrians occupy the Euphrates-​elbow in the Middle Assyrian period (Late Bronze Age)? In Borrell, F., Gomez, A., and Tornero, C. (eds.), Broadening horizons, vol. 3: conference of young researchers working in the ancient Near East. Bellaterra: Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, 203–​225. Llop, J. 2015. Foreign kings in the Middle Assyrian archival documentation. In Düring, B.S. (ed.), Understanding hegemonic practices of the early Assyrian Empire: essays dedicated to Frans Wiggermann. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 243–​273. Lundström, S. 2009. Die Königsgrüfte im Alten Palast von Assur. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Lundström, S., and Orlamünde, J. 2011. Die Orthostaten Tiglat-​ Pilesers I. und Assurnasirpals II. aus dem Alten Palast von Assur. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Mahieu, B. 2018. The Old and Middle Assyrian calendars, and the adoption of the Babylonian calendar by Tiglath-​pileser I (attested in the Doppeldatierungen and in the Broken Obelisk). SAAB 24: 63–​95. Masetti-​Rouault, M.G. 2014. Globalization and imperialism: political and ideological reactions to the Assyrian presence in Syria (IXth–​VIIIth century BCE). In Geller, M.J. (ed.), Melammu: the ancient world in an age of globalization. Berlin: Max-​Planck-​Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Wissenschaften, 49–​68. Maul, S.M. 1992. Die Inschriften von Tall Bderi. Berlin: Reimer. Maul, S.M. 2000a. Der Sieg über die Mächte des Bösen: Götterkampf, Triumphrituale und Torarchitektur in Assyrien. In Hölscher, T. (ed.),

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Gegenwelten zu den Kulturen Griechenlands und Roms in der Antike. Berlin: De Gruyter, 19–​46. Maul, S.M. 2000b. Die Frühjahrsfeierlichkeiten in Aššur. In George, A.R., and Finkel, I.L. (eds.), Wisdom, gods and literature: studies in honour of W.G. Lambert. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 389–​420. Maul, S.M. 2005. Die Inschriften von Tall Ṭābān (Grabungskampagnen 1997–​ 1999): die Könige von Ṭābētu und das Land Māri in mittelassyrischer Zeit. Tokyo: Kokushikan. Meinhold, W. 2009. Ištar in Aššur: Untersuchung eines Lokalkultes von ca. 2500 bis 614 v. Chr. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Meuszyński, J. 1981. Die Rekonstruktion der Reliefdarstellungen und ihrer Anordnung im Nordwestpalast von Kalḫu (Nimrūd): Räume B, C, D, E, F, G, H, L, N, P. Mainz: Zabern. Millard, A.R. 1994. The eponyms of the Assyrian Empire, 910–​ 612 BC. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Mühl, S. 2013. Siedlungsgeschichte im mittleren Osttigrisgebiet: vom Neolithikum bis in die neuassyrische Zeit. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Nadali, D. 2016. The building of Tell ‘Ağağa /​Šadikanni in Syria: some reflections. In Matthiae, P. (ed.), Studia Eblaitica: studies on the archaeology, history, and philology of ancient Syria, vol. 2. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 177–​189. Nashef, K. 1982. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der mittelbabylonischen und mittelassyrischen Zeit. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Nishiyama, S. 2020. Provincial control in the eastern reaches of the Assyrian Empire: a view from Yasin Tepe, Iraqi Kurdistan. In Hasegawa, S., and Radner, K. (eds.), The reach of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires: case studies in eastern and western peripheries. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 45–​71. Oates, J., and Oates, D. 2001. Nimrud: an Assyrian imperial city revealed. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Orlamünde, J. 2011. Die Obeliskenfragmente aus Assur. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Pappi, C. 2018. The land of Idu: city, province, or kingdom? SAAB 24: 97–​123. Paley, S.M., and Sobolewski, R.P. 1987. The reconstruction of the relief representations and their positions in the Northwest-​Palace at Kalḫu (Nimrūd), vol. II: rooms: I, S, T, Z, west-​wing. Mainz: Zabern.

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Paley, S.M., and Sobolewski, R.P. 1992. The reconstruction of the relief representations and their positions in the Northwest-​Palace at Kalḫu (Nimrūd), vol. III: the principal entrances and courtyards. Mainz: Zabern. Paulus, S. 2014. Die babylonischen Kudurru-​ Inschriften von der kassitischen bis zur frühneubabylonischen Zeit, untersucht unter besonderer Berücksichtigung gesellschafts-​und rechtshistorischer Fragestellungen. Mün­ ster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Pedde, F., and Lundström, S. 2008. Der alte Palast in Assur: Architektur und Baugeschichte. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Pedersén, O. 1985. Archives and libraries in the city of Assur: a survey of the material from the German excavations, vol. I. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Pedersén, O. 1986. Archives and libraries in the city of Assur: a survey of the material from the German excavations, vol. II. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Poebel, A. 1943. The Assyrian king list from Khorsabad (continued). JNES 2: 56–​90. Pongratz-​Leisten, B. 2015. Religion and ideology in Assyria. Berlin: De Gruyter. Postgate, J.N. 1992. The land of Assur and the yoke of Assur. World Archaeology 23: 247–​263. Postgate, J.N. 2005. Palast, V: mittel-​und neuassyrisch. RlA 10: 212–​226. Postgate, J.N. 2013. Bronze Age bureaucracy: writing and the practice of government in Assyria. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Postgate, J.N., and Reade, J.E. 1980. Kalḫu. RlA 5: 303–​323. Prechel, D., and Freydank, H. 2014. Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte, vol. X. Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz. Radner, K. 1999. Money in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. In Dercksen, J.G. (ed.), Trade and finance in ancient Mesopotamia. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 127–​157. Radner, K. 2002. Die neuassyrischen Texte aus Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad. Berlin: Reimer. Radner, K. 2004. Das mittelassyrische Tontafelarchiv von Giricano /​Dunnu-​ša-​ Uzibi. Turnhout: Brepols. Radner, K. 2006. How to reach the Upper Tigris: the route through the Ṭūr ‘Abdīn. SAAB 15: 273–​305. Radner, K. 2008a. Provinz, C: Assyrien. RlA 11: 42–​68. Radner, K. 2008b. Qumānu. RlA 11: 206. Radner, K. 2009. Die assyrischen Königsinschriften an der Tigrisgrotte. In Schachner, A. (ed.), Assyriens Könige an einer der Quellen des

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Tigris: archäologische Forschungen im Höhlensystem von Bırkleyn und am sogenannten Tigris-​Tunnel. Tübingen: Wasmuth, 172–​202. Radner, K. 2011. The Assur-​Nineveh-​Arbela triangle: central Assyria in the Neo-​Assyrian period. In Miglus, P.A., and Mühl, S. (eds.), Between the cultures: the central Tigris region from the 3rd to the 1st millennium BC. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 321–​329. Radner, K. 2012. Between a rock and a hard place: Muṣaṣir, Kumme, Ukku and Subria, the buffer states between Assyria and Urartu. In Kroll, S., Gruber, C., Hellwag, U., Roaf, M., and Zimansky, P. (eds.), Biainili-​ Urartu. Leuven: Peeters, 243–​264. Radner, K. 2017. A Neo-​ Assyrian legal document from Tell Sitak. In Heffron, Y., Stone, A., and Worthington, M. (eds.), At the dawn of history: ancient Near Eastern studies in honour of J.N. Postgate. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 423–​430. Radner, K. 2018a. Zamua. RlA 15: 210–​213. Radner, K. 2018b. Zuḫina. RlA 15: 341–​343. Radner, K., and Schachner, A. 2001. From Tušhan to Amēdi: topographical questions concerning the Upper Tigris region in the Assyrian period. In Tuna, N., and Velibeyoğlu, J. (eds.), Salvage project of the archaeological heritage of the Ilısu and Carchemish dam reservoirs: activities 1999. Ankara: TAÇDAM, 729–​776. Reade, J.E. 1975. Aššurnaṣirpal I and the White Obelisk. Iraq 37: 129–​150. Reade, J.E. 1980. The Rassam Obelisk. Iraq 42: 1–​22. Reade, J.E. 1981. Fragments of Assyrian monuments. Iraq 43: 145–​156. Reade, J.E. 2002. The ziggurat and temples of Nimrud. Iraq 64: 135–​216. Reade, J.E. 2005. The Ishtar temple at Nineveh. Iraq 67: 347–​390. Rouault, O., and Masetti-​Rouault, M.G. 2016. Les briques inscrites de Qasr Shemamok: migrations, réutilisations et valeur documentaire. In Perello, B., and Tenu, A. (eds.), Parcours d’Orient: recueil de textes offert à Christine Kepinski. Oxford: Archaeopress, 209–​217. Russell, J.M. 1998. The program of the palace of Assurnasirpal II at Nimrud: issues in the research and presentation of Assyrian art. AJA 102: 655–​715. Russell, J.M. 1999. The writing on the wall: studies in the architectural context of late Assyrian palace inscriptions. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Russell, J.M. 2017a. Assyrian cities and architecture. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 423–​452.

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Russell, J.M. 2017b. Assyrian art. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 453–​510. Sano, K. 2015a. Die Expansion des assyrischen Reiches unter Aššurnaṣirpal II. Aula Orientalis 33: 323–​331. Sano, K. 2015b. Ist Ilānu der Bruder des Bur-​Ramānu? NABU 2015: 62 (no. 42). Sano, K. 2020. Die Deportationspraxis in neuassyrischer Zeit. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Schaudig, H. 2020. Staatsrituale, Festbeschreibungen und weitere Texte zum assyrischen Kult (Keilschrifttexte aus Assur literarischen Inhalts 12). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Schroeder, O. 1920. Keilschrifttexte aus Assur verschiedenen Inhalts. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Shibata, D. 2011. The toponyms, “the land of Māri,” in the late second millennium BC. RA 105: 95–​108. Shibata, D. 2012. Local power in the Middle Assyrian period: the “kings of the land of Māri” in the middle Habur region. In Wilhelm, G. (ed.), Organization, representation, and symbols of power in the ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 489–​505. Shibata, D. 2022. The Assyrian king of the Broken Obelisk, the date of the archive from Giricano, and the timing of the Assyrian calendar reform. JCS 74, 109–​129. Shibata, D., and Yamada, S. 2009. The cuneiform texts from the 2007 excavations at Tell Taban: a preliminary report. In Numoto, H. (ed.), Excavations at Tell Taban, Hassake, Syria: preliminary report on the 2007 season of excavations, and the study of cuneiform texts. Tokyo: Kokushikan, 87–​109. Shibata, D., and Yamada, S. 2021. Calendars of the land of Ḫana and the Middle Assyrian land of Māri in the second millennium BC. In Shibata, D., and Yamada, S. (eds.), Calendars and festivals in Mesopotamia in the third and second millennia BC. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 165–​199. Tenu, A. 2009. L’expansion médio-​assyrienne: approche archéologique. Oxford: Archaeopress. Tenu, A. 2020. From Karkemiš to Rapiqu: the Assyrians in the Euphrates valley in the 13th century. Res Antiquitatis 2: 132–​160. Tournay, R.-​J. 1998. La stèle du roi Tukulti-​Ninurta II: nouvelle interprétation. Subartu IV/​2: 273–​278.

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van Soldt, W.H., Pappi, C., Wossink, A., Hess, C.W., and Ahmed, K.M. 2013. Satu Qala: a preliminary report on the seasons 2010–​2011. Anatolica 39: 197–​239. von Soden, W. 1974–​77. Zwei Königsgebete an Ištar aus Assyrien. AfO 25: 37–​49. Weidner, E.F. 1952–​53. Die Bibliothek Tiglatpilesers I. AfO 16: 197–​215. Weidner, E.F. 1954–​1956. Hof-​und Harems-​Erlasse assyrischer Könige aus dem 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr. AfO 17: 257–​293, pls. vii–​xii. Werner, P. 2009. Der Sîn-​Šamaš-​Tempel in Assur. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Werner, P. 2016. Der Anu-​Adad-​Tempel in Assur. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Wilhelm, G. 2005. Papḫû. RlA 10: 324–​325. Yamada, S. 2000. The construction of the Assyrian Empire: a historical study of the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (859–​824 BC) relating to his campaigns to the West. Leiden: Brill. Yamada, S. 2020. The conquest and reorganization of the land of Zamua /​ Mazamua in the Assyrian Empire. In Hasegawa, S., and Radner, K. (eds.), The reach of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires: case studies in eastern and western peripheries. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 167–​193. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2016. A political history of the Arameans: from their origins to the end of their polities. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2017. Adad-​nērārī II and the Aramean Temanites: the beginnings of Neo-​Assyrian recovery. In Baruchi-​Unna, A., Forti, T.L., Ahituv, S., Eph‘al, I., and Tigay, J.H. (eds.), “Now it happened in those days”: studies in biblical, Assyrian, and other ancient Near Eastern historiography presented to Mordechai Cogan. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 367–​385. Zadok, R. 2017. A cylinder inscription of Aššur-​ketta-​lēšir II. In Baruchi-​ Unna, A., Forti, T.L., Ahituv, S., Eph‘al, I., and Tigay, J.H. (eds.), “Now it happened in those days”: studies in biblical, Assyrian, and other ancient Near Eastern historiography presented to Mordechai Cogan. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 309–​340. Ziegler, N., and Langlois, A.-​I. 2016. Les toponymes des textes paléo-​babyloniens. Paris: Société pour l’étude du Proche-​Orient ancien.

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The Assyrian Empire A View from Within Heather D. Baker

38.1. Introduction This chapter examines the political history of the Assyrian Empire (figure 38.1) from its first expansion in the second half of the ninth century until its fall in the late seventh century bc. Assyria had avoided the widespread collapse that affected many Late Bronze Age polities around the eastern Mediterranean in the early twelfth century bc,1 but in the aftermath of that episode its territory was progressively diminished in the west by incursions of Aramean peoples (­chapter 37 in this volume). This era of contraction combined with a relatively weak central government—​a “dark age” spanning much of the eleventh and tenth centuries bc—​came to an end with the reign of Aššur-​dan II (935–​912 bc), who began the long, drawn-​out process of recovering lost territories, which continued down to (and including) the reign of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc). Notwithstanding periods of expansion and contraction, the core of Assyria, that is, the area centered on the so-​called Assur–​Nineveh–​Arbela

1. Cline 2014. Heather D. Baker, The Assyrian Empire In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0038

Figure 38.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 38. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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triangle,2 remained intact over a remarkably long period, from the defeat of the kingdom of Mittani in the fourteenth century bc down to the fall of Nineveh at the end of the seventh century bc. The empire is conventionally considered to span roughly three centuries, typically beginning with the reign of Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) in 911 bc and ending with the fall of Nineveh in 612 bc.3 Three hundred years is quite a long time, even by ancient Mesopotamian standards, and it is helpful to frame Assyria’s imperial history using some kind of meaningful scheme. Different approaches are possible, and they are by no means mutually exclusive. One possibility centers on Assyria’s three successive capital cities, starting with the move from Assur to Kalhu by Ashurnasirpal II, followed by the new city of Dur-​Šarrukin founded by Sargon II (721–​705 bc), and finally the move of the capital to the ancient city of Nineveh by Sargon’s son, Sennacherib (704–​681 bc). As royal residence and center of government, these three cities played a pivotal role in the evolving imperial landscape, and the move of the capital in each instance marked a significant turning point in Assyrian history. Yet this “tale of three cities” alone cannot narrate the whole story of the Assyrian Empire: the intervals between relocations are either too long (Kalhu to Dur-​Šarrukin) or too short (Dur-​Šarrukin to Nineveh) for them to serve the historian well as a backdrop to unfolding events. Ideally, then, we need some complementary means of dividing up the long history of the empire into meaningful chunks. Another approach involves identifying key phases in the developmental trajectory of the empire. Nicholas Postgate, for example, divided the second half of the Neo-​Assyrian period into two: a conquest phase spanning the reigns of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc) and Sargon II, and an imperial phase encompassing the reigns of Sennacherib, Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc), and Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc).4 He omitted the period

2. Radner 2011c. 3. E.g., Radner 1998a: xxi. Some scholars place the starting point earlier, at ca. 1000 bc (e.g., Frahm 2017b: 161). For the dates of the kings’ reigns, I follow the list in Frahm (ed.) 2017a: 615. 4. Postgate 1979: 194.

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prior to 745 bc because he considered the territorial gains made under the ninth-​century kings Ashurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) to be potentially ephemeral, arguing that the empire properly speaking was only placed on a secure footing in the second half of the eighth century bc. While this has some validity, it is necessary to include the early phase if we wish to account for the entire trajectory of Assyria’s rise and fall, including the bumps along the way. Mario Liverani, by contrast, divided the story of Assyrian imperialism into six stages: (1) reconquest, that is, the recovery of territory formerly lost to the Arameans (930–​860 bc); (2) first expansion beyond the traditional borders (860–​830 bc); (3) a “feudal” period (830–​746 bc); (4) a second expansion under Tiglath-​pileser III and Sargon II (745–​ 705 bc); (5) a period of unchallenged hegemony (705–​640 bc); and (6) a civil war culminating in collapse (640–​610 bc).5 In this chapter, I adopt a slightly modified version of Liverani’s scheme, not only because it accounts for the empire’s entire time span, but also because it incorporates more nuance: for example, it takes into consideration the catastrophic civil war of the mid-​seventh century bc and its aftermath. However, I adjust the date ranges slightly so that the transition between stages 5 and 6 is aligned more precisely with the civil war of 652–​648 bc. Since the period down to and including the reign of Ashurnasirpal II has been treated in detail in ­chapter 37 in this volume, I begin my account with stage 2 of Liverani’s scheme, that is, with the first expansion under Shalmaneser III. The remainder of this introductory section is devoted to setting the scene, providing concise background information on the sources, chronology, the organization of the empire, and the main actors, as a prelude to the chronologically ordered outline that makes up the remainder of the chapter. 5. Liverani 2017: 538–​539.

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38.1.1. Sources The main sources comprise the royal inscriptions, chronographic texts, and letters, especially those of the official correspondence.6 Many of the written sources for the political history of the Assyrian Empire are now available in recent editions, including translations.7 The Neo-​Assyrian royal inscriptions are edited in volumes of the series Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia: Assyrian Periods and its successor Royal Inscriptions of the Neo-​Assyrian Period, covering kings Shalmaneser III to Aššur-​nerari V,8 Tiglath-​pileser III and Shalmaneser V,9 Sargon II,10 Sennacherib,11 Esarhaddon,12 and Ashurbanipal and his successors.13 The Neo-​Assyrian royal inscriptions from Babylonia are edited in the second volume of the series Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia: Babylonian Periods,14 covering rulers from Tiglath-​pileser III down to Sin-​šarru-​iškun. The contents of the royal inscriptions from Assyria reflect two main themes, often combined within one and the same text: military campaigns, and royal building projects (­chapter 40 in this volume). The Babylonian inscriptions of Assyrian rulers, by contrast, tend to follow the local tradition of eschewing military matters; rather, they emphasize royal piety and focus on construction projects, especially the building or rebuilding of temples.

6. On Neo-​Assyrian sources and historiography, see the various contributions in Yamada 2018a; Lanfranchi et al. 2019. Further discussion of aspects of the Neo-​ Assyrian documentation can be found in ­chapter 40 in this volume. 7. Many are freely available online via the website Ancient Records of Middle Eastern Polities: http://​oracc.org/​armep/​ (last accessed August 24, 2021). 8. Grayson 1996. 9. Tadmor and Yamada 2011. 10. Frame 2021. 11. Grayson and Novotny 2012; 2014. 12. Leichty 2011. 13. Novotny and Jeffers 2018; Jeffers and Novotny 2023; Novotny et al. 2023. 14. Frame 1995.

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Chronographic texts include the Assyrian Eponym Lists and the Assyrian Eponym Chronicles (section 38.1.2). Some Babylonian Chronicle texts contain information about Assyrian political history, as do a number of king lists, especially the Assyrian King List.15 The administrative letters of the official correspondence consist mainly of letters exchanged between the king and his high officials, especially the provincial governors.16 These come mostly from Nineveh and are edited in the State Archives of Assyria series, predominantly ordered by king’s reign and by dialect (Assyrian or Babylonian).17 The most recent edition of the “Nimrud Letters,” excavated at Kalhu and dating mainly to the reigns of Tiglath-​pileser III and Sargon II, is also published in this series.18 The letters exchanged between the king and his scholars also have a bearing on political history since the court scholars were instrumental in advising on current affairs; the same is true of the queries made to the sun god by the king’s diviners, and the astrological reports.19 The numerous everyday administrative and legal documents provide information on social and economic life and sometimes have a bearing on political events.20

15. For the Babylonian Chronicles, see Grayson 1975, with the recent studies by Waerzeggers 2012; 2021. For the Assyrian King List, see Grayson 1980–​1983: 101–​ 116. The latest dated manuscript of the Assyrian King List was written during the reign of Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc); on the composition and editorial history, see Yamada 1994; Valk 2019. 16. Radner 2014; 2015. 17. Volumes of administrative letters published to date are Parpola 1987 (Sargon II); Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990 (Sargon II); Cole and Machinist 1998 (priestly letters, mainly of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal); Fuchs and Parpola 2001 (Sargon II); Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002 (Esarhaddon); Dietrich 2003 (Babylonian letters of Sargon II and Sennacherib); Reynolds 2003 (Babylonian letters of Esarhaddon); Parpola 2018 (Ashurbanipal). The remaining Babylonian letters from the time of Ashurbanipal are not yet published. 18. Luukko 2012. 19. For the scholarly letters, see Parpola 1993, with detailed studies by Parpola 1970; 1983; for the queries to the sun god, see Starr 1990; and for the astrological reports, see Hunger 1992. For scholarship at court, see Radner 2011b. 20. Radner 2017a. Some relevant issues are discussed in ­chapter 40 in this volume.

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38.1.2. Chronology The system of dating by year eponyms (Assyrian limmu or līmu) that began in the earlier second millennium bc continued in use. Names of eponyms are found especially in the date formulae of legal documents and more sporadically in other kinds of texts, such as administrative documents, the colophons of literary texts, and royal inscriptions. Thanks to the various manuscripts of the Assyrian Eponym List and the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle, which combine to cover the entire period down to 649 bc, the absolute dating of most of the imperial era is well founded.21 However, since no such list (or canon) survives for the years from 648 bc on (the so-​called post-​canonical era), the precise order of the eponyms between 648 and 612 bc is still debated; competing sequences have been published, but with no consensus as to a preferred scheme.22 Circumstantial evidence, such as prosopographical data drawn from the people named in the texts, can assist in placing a post-​canonical eponym, at least to within a decade or so. Further issues arise when confronted with more than one eponym bearing the same name: these may be distinguished by their title, but the title is often omitted in the date formulae of legal documents.23 Finally, a small number of eponyms have been placed after the fall of Nineveh in 612 bc, although this remains

21. For an edition, see Millard 1994. Selected further studies are Finkel and Reade 1995; 1998; Zawadzki 1997; Reade 1998; Yamada 2019; Morello 2020. 22. Falkner 1958; Simo Parpola apud Radner 1998a: xix; Reade 1998; for concordances, see Baker 2017: 265–​266; Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 31–​32. For further discussion of the post-​canonical eponyms, see Robert Whiting’s contribution in Millard 1994: 72–​78. In this chapter, I follow Parpola in indicating post-​ canonical year dates by means of *. 23. One such case involves Nabû-​šarru-​uṣur, the chief eunuch (assigned to 644* bc), and Nabû-​šarru-​uṣur, the palace scribe (assigned to 629* bc). Their proposed dates are sufficiently close that even circumstantial criteria are of limited help in distinguishing between them when they occur without any title, with the result that some attestations are of ambiguous date. See Baker 2001b s.v. Nabû-​ šarru-​uṣur no. 29 (chief eunuch), no. 47 (palace scribe), and no. 48 (ambiguous attestations).

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uncertain.24 Occasionally, eponym dates are found in association with regnal years, for example, in the date formulae of legal contracts.25 Many entries in the Eponym Chronicle contain important historical information, such as the main target of the annual military campaign, or an event such as a revolt. Year eponyms were selected from among the highest officials of the land, and there is some evidence for how this was done. A terracotta cube from the time of Shalmaneser III indicates that the year eponym was chosen by lot (Assyrian pūru). Its inscription refers to a man named Yahalu, the Great Treasurer of Shalmaneser, and states: In his eponym year, his lot, may the crops of Assyria prosper and flourish! In front of the god Aššur and the god Adad may his lot fall!26 However, the casting of lots did not determine the entire sequence of eponyms in a king’s reign: the king himself often served as eponym in his first regnal year, or in his second, sometimes taking a second term later on in his reign.27 Further regularities can be observed in the order in which holders of the highest offices served as eponym; for example, between the reigns of Shalmaneser III and Tiglath-​pileser III, the commander-​in-​chief followed the king, acting as eponym in the third regnal year.28 As Irving Finkel and Julian Reade observed, this suggests

24. Simo Parpola apud Radner 1998a: xix lists proposed eponyms for the years 611*, 610*, and 609*. Radner 2018: 139–​140 argues that the commander-​in-​chief Nabû-​ mar-​šarri-​uṣur (whom Parpola places in 611* bc) served under Aššur-​uballiṭ and changed his name (which means “O Nabû, protect the crown prince!”) to reflect his new master; see section 38.6.4. 25. Millard 1994: 70–​71; Yamada 2019: 179. 26. Finkel and Reade 1995. 27. Finkel and Reade 1995: 167. Yamada 2018b: 84 argues that the outcome of the lottery was normally predetermined, since only the chosen candidate’s lot would be cast. 28. Finkel and Reade 1995.

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Figure 38.2.  The Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III. British Museum, BM 118885. Composite by Karen Radner, using photographs made available by the British Museum under a Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

that there was some basis for deciding in advance who would serve as eponym. Following the decision, an announcement would be needed, and finally the choice would be ratified by the gods. The inscription on Shalmaneser III’s famous “Black Obelisk” (figure 38.2) indicates that this is the point at which the lot was cast: In my thirty-​first regnal year, when I placed the lot for a second time before the god Aššur and the god Adad (as a dedication).29 29. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 174–​175.

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The annalistic accounts contained in many royal inscriptions typically employ either eponym dates or, from the reign of Shalmaneser III on, palû-​dates as a means of dating the annual campaigns.30 The palû dates, which were used especially for numbered annual campaign reports, may have been inspired by the system of regnal years used by the Babylonians. According to Shigeo Yamada, the targets of yearly campaigns began to be included in the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle at the same time as the palû annals began to be compiled, during Shalmaneser III’s reign.31 However, the palû-​dating system was somewhat problematic because it was best suited for an unbroken sequence of yearly campaigns, but in practice annual campaigns were not always possible, or there might be more than one campaign in a given year, with the result that the numbered palûs tended to become out of sync with the king’s regnal years. Sometimes the term came to denote an episode that spanned more than a single regnal year, hence we witness the introduction of a further term, gerru, which applied specifically to numbered campaigns and removed the ambiguity inherent in palû dates since it had no implied connection with regnal years. However, in the inscriptions of Ashurbanipal, the same events were given differently numbered gerrus in different editions of his annals; this reflects an organizational principle that was no longer strictly chronological but incorporated a geographical element.32

38.1.3.  Imperial organization In geographical terms, the Assyrian Empire comprised its heartland in northern Mesopotamia—​the region that was first designated the “Land of (the god) Aššur” (māt Aššur) in the fourteenth century bc—​together with the territories it had acquired by conquest. All of the lands that were

30. For a study of the different systems and their development and application over time, see Yamada 2019. 31. Yamada 2019: 168. 32. Yamada 2019: 177–​178.

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under direct rule were organized into provinces under Assyrian governors appointed by the king.33 Around the fringes could be found friendly kingdoms whose rulers were permitted to retain their thrones so long as they remained submissive and delivered a fixed amount of annual tribute that the Assyrian king imposed on them; failure to do so was considered a justification for invasion, often followed by the replacement of the vassal ruler with a more submissive alternative, or by outright annexation. Since the Middle Assyrian period (­chapter 31 in volume 3), there had been a royal imperative to enlarge the land by extending its borders through conquest, and this ideology is often reflected in the language of the royal inscriptions.34 The practice of forced deportation can also be traced back to the Middle Assyrian period.35 It entailed the resettlement of conquered peoples in a different part of the empire, while the deportees themselves were often replaced by peoples brought from a distant part of the empire to be settled in their former homeland. This policy had two principal benefits from the perspective of the Assyrian administration: first, it served to break down local loyalties through geographical dislocation, and second, it was a means of procuring much-​needed labor for the Assyrian heartland, in city and countryside alike. Deportation, together with the Aramean incursions of the eleventh and tenth centuries bc, were major factors in the formation of what is often described as a “multi-ethnic” empire (­chapter 40 in this volume).

38.1.4. Actors Writing on Neo-​Assyrian history necessarily involves engaging with sources that are overwhelmingly biased toward the upper echelons of society, but this effect is all the more marked when addressing political history: the focus is inevitably on the king and his close associates,

33. For a discussion of the provincial system and its development over time, see Radner 2008c. 34. Liverani 2017: 537. 35. Oded 1979.

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especially his immediate family and the highest officials of the land to whom he delegated power.36 There is not the space here to incorporate the countervailing “view from below,” but it should be borne in mind that empires were not created by kings and magnates alone. We lack the voices of the millions uprooted from their homelands by force and settled in distant Assyria, or of those who worked the land, tied to the estates of the nobility, or who labored to build the imperial cities, but they and countless others played their part in the imperial story. They include women, who are almost invariably invisible,37 with the exception of a very few royal women who feature in the sources on account of (usually atypical) circumstances that permitted them a brief turn in the spotlight. The Assyrian king was considered the earthly representative of the national god Aššur; his every action as ruler was expected to conform to prevailing religious and ideological values.38 Aside from the king, we are dealing especially with his highest officials, the so-​called magnates. These include the holders of the seven highest offices of the land, together with the provincial governors; in total they are estimated to number around 100–​120 individuals.39 These seven highest offices were: the treasurer, the palace herald, the chief cupbearer, the chief eunuch, the chief bailiff, the vizier, and the commander-​in-​chief.40 Some of these offices also had the governorship of a key border province associated with them, on top of the magnate’s own sphere of duties.41 The magnates were the king’s most

36. Radner 2008a. 37. On “invisible” women, see Teppo 2006: 386–​387. For a detailed study of Neo-​ Assyrian women at the royal court, see Svärd 2015. 38. Maul 2017; Liverani 2017. 39. Radner 2011b: 359. 40. For a study of the magnates, see Mattila 2000, discussing only the subgroup comprising the seven highest officials, whose titles are not always easy to translate; even when uncontroversial the translation does not necessarily reflect their actual duties. Some of the offices (e.g., “chief cupbearer”) derive originally from positions in the king’s household. 41. On the provinces of the magnates, see Radner 2008c: 48–​49.

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trusted delegates, and a good many of them were eunuchs because they were considered more likely to be loyal to the king on account of their inability to produce heirs.42 Another important component of government was the palatial establishment, that is, the king’s own palace and household, together with satellite households such as those of the crown prince and queen mother, and the secondary palaces in the major cities of the heartland and in the provincial centers.43 The king’s main palace fulfilled a dual function, serving as his residence and also the seat of government. Palaces in the provincial capitals would have accommodated the royal entourage when the king was visiting, but otherwise they housed the provincial governors. The royal household was substantial, including members of the royal family, palace personnel both civilian and military, entertainers, courtiers, visitors such as foreign dignitaries and even foreign royalty (whether as guests, hostages, or fugitives). Some administrative personnel were engaged in the running of the palace, while others assisted the king in governing the empire. Within the residential quarters of the palace, the queen maintained her own household. The discovery in 1989 of several queens’ tombs beneath the domestic quarters of the Northwest Palace at Kalhu shed new light on a number of royal women, including previously unknown queens.44

38.2.  The first expansion

38.2.1.  Regaining lost territory The first expansion of Assyrian territory under Shalmaneser III (858–​ 824 bc) built on the achievements of his predecessors Aššur-​dan II (934–​912 bc), Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc), Tukulti-​Ninurta II 42. Studies of Neo-​Assyrian eunuchs include Deller 1999; Tadmor 2002. The Assyrian term usually translated as “eunuch” (ša-​rēši) is discussed also by Groß 2020: 239–​259 in her treatment of courtiers. “Eunuch” was not necessarily a marker of high status, since eunuchs are attested in a wide range of occupations and positions. 43. On the organization and personnel of the royal household, see Groß 2020. 44. On the inscribed objects, see Al-​Rawi 2008; on the excavations and for the tombs’ contents, see Hussein 2016.

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(890–​884 bc), and Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc), who had succeeded in restoring the borders of the “Land of Assur” to their state prior to the Aramean incursions of the eleventh and tenth centuries bc. This process of reconquest was completed under Ashurnasirpal, who was also responsible for creating a grand new capital at Kalhu (modern Nimrud). These developments are described in detail in c­ hapter 37 in this volume.

38.2.2.  Expansion under Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) Shalmaneser III was the son of Ashurnasirpal II and probably of Mullissu-​ mukannišat-​Ninua, the daughter of Ashurnasirpal’s chief cupbearer, Aššur-​nirka-​da’’in, who was buried in Tomb III in the Northwest Palace at Kalhu.45 He had at least two sons: his successor Šamši-​Adad V, and Aššur-​da’’in-​aplu. His construction works included “Fort Shalmaneser,” a new palace in the lower town at Kalhu that was used especially for military review.46 Shalmaneser’s greatest military achievement was his success in extending the Assyrian border westward, beyond the river Euphrates.47 In addition to his campaigns in Syria, he was also active to the north and northeast (Anatolia, Urartu, and adjacent regions), and to the east, in the Zagros area, and finally in Babylonia to the south. The later campaigns of Shalmaneser’s reign present a problem in terms of their dating, since there comes a point when the targets of the annual campaigns as recorded in the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle cease to correspond one-​to-​one with the campaigns recorded in the royal inscriptions using numbered palûs. Thus, the campaign of his 21st palû to Danabu and Malahu corresponds to two entries in the Eponym Chronicle (those

45. For brief accounts of Shalmaneser’s life, see S. Yamada in Baker and Yamada 2002: 1072–​ 1076 (no. 3); Baker 2008a. For Mullissu-​ mukkanišat-​ Ninua and Tomb III, see Baker 2001a; Al-​Rawi 2008: 122–​125 (nos. 2–​3); Hussein 2016: 27–​42. 46. Oates and Oates 2001: 144–​194. On his other building works, see Baker 2008a: 584–​585. 47. For a detailed account, see Yamada 2000.

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for 838 and 837 bc, Malahu and Danabu, respectively); similarly, the campaign to Que (Cilicia) of his 25th palû corresponds to two Eponym Chronicle entries, for 832 and 831 bc.48

38.2.2.1.  Shalmaneser’s military campaigns In northern Syria, Shalmaneser campaigned against a coalition of Aramean and post-​Hittite states led by Ahuni, the Aramean leader of Bit-​Adini, with its center at Til Barsip (modern Tell Ahmar) on the Euphrates. In 858 bc, he defeated this alliance;49 in the following year, he destroyed many cities of Bit-​Adini;50 and in 856 bc, he captured Til Barsip and renamed it Kar-​Shalmaneser (“Shalmaneser’s Harbor”),51 although it took another year before he was able to defeat and capture Ahuni in 855 bc and take him back to Assyria.52 Til Barsip played a crucial role both in consolidating control of the traditional border and as a base for further expansion to the west.53 In 853 bc, Shalmaneser campaigned through the Balikh region and, having crossed the Euphrates at Til Barsip, received tribute from kings on the other side, including the ruler of Halman (Aleppo).54 He destroyed Qarqar, a city belonging to Irhulenu of Hamath, and in that vicinity he defeated an alliance of twelve rulers of coastal Syria led by Irhulenu and Adda-​idri of Damascus.55 Shalmaneser had to cross the Euphrates to confront this same alliance

48. See the tables of Fuchs 1998: 90–​91 and Yamada 2019: 169, in the context of their studies of palû-​dating. Prior to 841 bc, the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle does not preserve the targets of Shalmaneser’s annual campaigns. 49. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: i 29–​ii 13. 50. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 13–​18. 51. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 30–​35. 52. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 66–​75. 53. Yamada 1998. 54. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 78–​87. 55. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 87–​102.

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on three further occasions, in 849, 848, and 845 bc, but each time the leaders managed to escape.56 By 841 bc, Adda-​idri had been deposed and replaced by Hazael who, after a battle with Shalmaneser before Mount Lebanon, fled to his city Damascus and was besieged there; at that time the people of Tyre and Sidon gave tribute to Shalmaneser, as did Jehu of the House of Omri, the king of Israel.57 Finally, in 838 bc, Shalmaneser crossed the Euphrates and received the tribute of the kings of Hatti; he went on to conquer and destroy four cities of Hazael of Damascus, and received tribute from the coastal cities of Tyre, Sidon, and Byblos.58 Shalmaneser conducted six campaigns into Anatolia, between 839 and 832 bc. These operations began with his campaign against Que (Cilicia) in 839 bc when, assisted by Hatti, he captured cities belonging to its ruler Katê.59 In 836 bc, he conquered the cities of Tuatti in Tabal and then received tribute from his son Kikki and twenty (or twenty-​four) Tabalian rulers.60 His campaign of 835 bc saw him capture Uetaš, a fortress belonging to King Lalla of Melid, and receive tribute again from the kings of Tabal.61 Shalmaneser campaigned in Que again in 833, 832, and 831 bc, and again took cities belonging to Katê. During the campaign of 832 bc, the people of Tarsus submitted and Shalmaneser installed Kirrî, a brother of Katê, as their ruler.62 In the following year, he besieged Katê in his city and captured his daughter and carried her off to Kalhu, whereupon Katê submitted.63

56. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 55–​iii 15, iii 24–​33. 57. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ll. 1´´–​27´´. 58. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.16: ll. 152´–​162´. For these events in the Levant, see also ­chapters 46, 47, and 48 in this volume. 59. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.16: ll. 143´–​151´. 60. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.16: ll. 162´–​172´. 61. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 107–​110. 62. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 126–​130, 132–​141; A.0.102.16: ll. 216´–​227´. 63. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.40: iii 5–​8. For Shalmaneser’s actions in Cilicia, see also ­chapter 46 in this volume.

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Campaigns against Urartu took place in 859, 856, and 830 bc. In his accession year, 859 bc, Shalmaneser campaigned in Hubuškia, Urartu, and the Nairi lands (an archaic term for the mountain regions of Inner Anatolia and Iran), destroying many settlements, including some belonging to the Urartian ruler Arramu (Aramu).64 In 856 bc, he set out from Til Barsip and marched through the upper Euphrates region to reach a royal city of Arramu, who fled but could not be captured.65 Shalmaneser subsequently devoted three campaigns to subduing the upper reaches of the Tigris, an important border region between Assyria and Urartu. In 854 bc, he captured cities and compelled Anhitti, the ruler of Šubria, to submit and render tribute;66 in 852 bc, he marched to the source of the Tigris and received tribute from the Nairi lands,67 and in 846 bc, he passed through the Tur Abdin Mountains to conquer Matiyati (modern Midyat).68 He mounted a major campaign to the upper Tigris again in 844 bc and laid waste to some cities belonging to the Urartian ruler Arramu.69 The final major campaign to Urartu was led by Shalmaneser’s commander-​in-​chief Dayyan-​Aššur in 830 bc, when he defeated King Sarduri in battle and destroyed many cities.70 In 826 bc, Dayyan-​Aššur campaigned on the southeast border of Urartu where, after conquering many cities of the land Muṣaṣir, he crossed over into Urartian territory and destroyed further settlements.71

64. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.1: ll. 19–​40; A.0.102.2: i 18–​29. On the relations between Assyria and Urartu, see also ­chapter 44 in this volume. 65. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 47–​56. 66. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.5: ii 16–​18. 67. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: ii 34–​40. 68. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: iii 21–​23. 69. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: iii 34–​45. 70. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 141–​146. 71. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 174–​190.

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In 855 bc, Shalmaneser campaigned in the Zagros region as well as in the west (Bit-​Adini); he reached Inner Mazamua (or Zamua), where he captured cities belonging to Nikdera.72 Over a decade later, in 843 bc, he again reached Inner Mazamua; after establishing a fortress there, he conquered extensive territories in Mazamua and Allabria, including the cities of Parsua, Abdadanu, and Hamban (or Bit-​Hamban), and then inflicted a defeat on Marduk-​mudammiq, the ruler of Namri, who fled, leaving his palaces to be plundered. Shalmaneser replaced Marduk-​mudammiq with Ianzu as ruler of Namri.73 Ianzu apparently did not remain loyal, because in 834 bc, Shalmaneser again campaigned to Namri, and Ianzu fled in fear; Shalmaneser destroyed his cities and pursued and killed the survivors who had taken refuge in the mountains. He then received tribute from twenty-​seven kings of the land Parsua, and marched through various lands, including the Median lands and Harhar, capturing and destroying cities and plundering them.74 In his campaign of 826 bc, Dayyan-​Aššur marched through Parsua and Namri and sacked many settlements there following his operations in Muṣaṣir and Urartu.75 In Babylonia, Shalmaneser intervened to assist King Marduk-​zakir-​ šumi in quashing a rebellion instigated by the latter’s brother, Marduk-​ bel-​usati. Shalmaneser had previously concluded a treaty with their deceased father, Nabû-​apla-​iddina.76 In 851 bc, he besieged Marduk-​bel-​ usati in the town of Gannanati and devastated its surroundings, and in the following year he succeeded in killing the rebel. Shalmaneser then performed sacrifices in the great temples of Cutha, Babylon, and Borsippa, before marching down to Chaldea, where he compelled Adinu, leader of the Bit-​Dakkuri tribe, to submit and render tribute. He also received

72. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: ii 10–​15. 73. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: iii 58–​iv 25; A.0.102.14: ll. 93–​95. 74. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 110–​126. For Shalmaneser’s activities in northwestern Iran, see also ­chapter 43 in this volume. 75. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 174–​190. 76. Grayson 1975: 167 Chronicle 21: iii 22–​24 (Synchronistic History). For the relationship with Babylonia, see also ­chapter 41 in this volume.

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tribute at that time from the Chaldean tribal leaders of Bit-​Yakin and Bit-​Amukani.77 A carved throne base found in the excavations at “Fort Shalmaneser” in Kalhu depicts Shalmaneser and Marduk-​zakir-​šumi (­figure 41.4 in ­chapter 41); its inscription commemorates Shalmaneser’s successful restoration of Marduk-​zakir-​šumi to his father’s throne.78 The mechanisms by which Shalmaneser incorporated the newly conquered territories into the empire are less clearly documented than in later times, thanks to the lack of explicit mention of the creation of provinces in the royal inscriptions; rather, the process was described as one of turning conquered cities into Assyrian cities, at least on the western front.79 The administration of the new territories varied, with some having Assyrian governors and others, especially in the Khabur and Balikh regions, remaining under the control of local dynasts.80 Beyond the directly ruled heartland, Shalmaneser’s control encompassed vassal territories whose rulers had either submitted following conflict, or to ensure their own survival.81 These vassal states extended into the regions of southern Syria, northern Syria, and southeastern Turkey as far as Tabal. The agreements made with these vassals were most likely cemented through treaties comparable to those of earlier and later periods, although none survives from Shalmaneser’s reign.82

38.2.2.2.  The end of Shalmaneser’s reign Over his long reign, Shalmaneser recorded no fewer than thirty-​five campaigns, although between 830 and 826 bc, military expeditions

77. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.5: iv 1–​vi 7. 78. For the throne base, see Oates and Oates 2001: 174–​175. For its inscription, see Grayson 1996: A.0.102.59. 79. Yamada 2000: 301–​302. 80. Yamada 2000: 304–​305, citing the example of Šadikanni, which was under the control of Mušezib-​Ninurta, a grandson of a former vassal of Ashurnasirpal II. 81. Yamada 2000: 305. 82. Yamada 2000: 307.

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were led by his commander-​in-​chief Dayyan-​Aššur rather than by the king himself, presumably on account of his age.83 Dayyan-​Aššur was active throughout much of Shalmaneser’s reign, serving as eponym of the years 853 and 826 bc. The Assyrian Eponym Chronicle records a rebellion for each year from 826 to 820 bc,84 and it has sometimes been assumed that it was Dayyan-​Aššur’s exceptional influence that gave rise to this revolt, but this is uncertain and his role, if any, remains unclear.85 He must have died around the time of the rebellion’s onset, since Yahalu was most likely commander-​in-​chief by 824 bc.86 In any case, it seems more accurate to characterize the rebellion as a succession struggle between two princes, Aššur-​da’’in-​aplu and Šamši-​Adad. Karen Radner argues that Šamši-​Adad V emerged the victor with the support of the commander-​in-​chief (i.e., Yahalu) who, as a eunuch, could not claim the throne for himself.87

38.3.  The “feudal” era (ca. 830–​745 bc) 38.3.1.  Šamši-​Adad V (823–​811 bc)

Šamši-​Adad V succeeded his father Shalmaneser III after a struggle for the throne that likely originated with the revolts that broke out during the final years of Shalmaneser’s reign (section 38.2.2.2); he ruled for

83. Brinkman 1999b. Note that the campaign dates should be adjusted to account for discrepancies between the palû numbers and regnal years; according to the revised scheme (Yamada 2019: 169), Dayyan-​Aššur led campaigns in 830, 829, 827, and 826 bc. 84. Millard 1994: 57. 85. E.g., Grayson 1999: 267 (citing an idea of Albert T. Olmstead). 86. Fuchs 2008: 66, 136–​138 argues that Dayyan-​Aššur died in 826 bc since Yahalu would have been appointed in that year, based on the timing of the commander-​ in-​chiefs’ terms as eponym. Yahalu was appointed by Shalmaneser III and was retained in office by Šamši-​Adad V. He was eponym of the years 833, 824, and 821 bc, and is attested first as treasurer in 833 bc and then as commander-​in-​ chief in 820 bc (his title as eponym in 824 and 821 bc is broken); see Mattila 2000: 107–​109. 87. Radner 2016: 48.

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thirteen years.88 His own account of his accession, inscribed on a stele from Kalhu, attributes the uprisings to his brother Aššur-​da’’in-​aplu, listing twenty-​seven towns that he had induced to defect.89 An inscribed statue that has recently come to light at Tell Ajaja (ancient Šadikanni), dated late in the reign of Shalmaneser III, may also reference Aššur-​ da’’in-​aplu’s instigation of the revolt.90 Aššur-​da’’in-​aplu is otherwise unknown, although it is worth noting that his name implies he was the first-​born son, and he may therefore have expected to succeed his father. The cities that rebelled included all the major cities of the Assyrian heartland aside from the capital, Kalhu.91 Šamši-​Adad simply states that he subdued them, with no further details. The Assyrian Eponym Chronicle fleshes out the chronology of these events, indicating that the revolts had not been fully suppressed when Šamši-​Adad took the throne, but continued into the early years of his reign, down to 820 bc.92 Šamši-​Adad did not engage in military campaigning until 820 bc, his fourth regnal year, since he first had to stabilize his rule by quelling the revolts. His annals preserve records of six campaigns numbered using the gerru system and dated in the years 820, 819, 818, 815, 814, and 813 bc, respectively.93 The first, in 820 bc, was directed to the mountainous Nairi lands, where all of the kings of the wider region presented him with horses and were submissive.94 The campaign of 819 bc was led by Šamši-​Adad’s chief

88. For a summary, see Baker 2008d. 89. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: i 39–​53. On Dayyan-​Aššur, see Brinkman 1998a. 90. Frahm 2015. His tentative reconstruction indicates a date for the text in 826 bc or shortly afterwards, since it includes the final campaign led by Dayyan-​Aššur, who was no longer commander-​in-​chief by 824 bc. 91. Radner 2016: 47–​48. Radner suggests that Aššur-​da’’in-​aplu’s failure to gain support in the imperial center may be the main reason for the failure of his rebellion. 92. Millard 1994: 57. 93. See Yamada 2019: 170 on the chronology of the campaigns of years 4 (820) through to 11 (813) as represented by the gerru numbers used in the royal inscriptions. 94. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: i 53–​ii 16.

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eunuch Mutarriṣ-​Aššur, who marched to Nairi, where he defeated many cities and received horses as tribute from the kings of the Nairi lands.95 In 818 bc, Šamši-​Adad himself traveled to Nairi again, where he received horses as tribute from various rulers, including those of Mannea and Parsua. He conquered peoples and cities in the lands of Mesu, of Gizilbunda, and of the Medes, and imposed tribute on numerous local rulers of Nairi.96 Šamši-​Adad had made an alliance with the Babylonian king Marduk-​ zakir-​šumi, who had received military assistance from Shalmaneser III;97 however, after Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi took the Babylonian throne, relationships deteriorated. The campaign of 815 bc took Šamši-​Adad to eastern Babylonia, where he defeated Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi at Dur-​ Papsukkal.98 In 814 bc, he campaigned to Babylonia again, where Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi abandoned his city Gannanati and fled in fear to Nemetti-​šarri. Šamši-​Adad massacred many of that city’s inhabitants but failed to capture Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi; the Assyrian king marched on to Der and carried off all of its deities. The circumstances in which Marduk-​ balassu-​iqbi was finally captured remain uncertain since the inscription is broken at this point; he was taken to Nineveh and flayed.99 The last recorded campaign (813 bc) comprised another expedition to Babylonia in which Šamši-​Adad captured alive Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi’s successor, Baba-​aha-​iddina, and took all of his people and treasures.100

38.3.2.  Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc) Adad-​nerari succeeded his father Šamši-​Adad V and reigned for twenty-​ eight years, according to the Assyrian King List and the Eponym

95. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: ii 16–​34. 96. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: ii 34–​iii 70. On Šamši-​Adad’s activities in northwestern Iran, see also ­chapter 43 in this volume. 97. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 1. See also ­chapter 41 in this volume. 98. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: iv 11–​45. 99. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.2: iii 17´–​iv 10´. 100. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.2: iv 11´–​29´.

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Chronicle.101 His mother was Sammu-​ramat, the Semiramis of later legend (section 38.3.2.1). The name of his queen is unknown, but he had at least three sons who succeeded him in turn: Shalmaneser IV, Aššur-​dan III, and Aššur-​nerari V.102 The chronology of Adad-​nerari’s reign is difficult to establish in the absence of regular annalistic accounts. The royal inscriptions which report on campaigns are few and mainly take the form of so-​called summary inscriptions. The conventional view has been that they are of limited value for historical reconstruction since they combine multiple campaigns, but not necessarily in chronological order.103 Although the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle, which preserves the main target of each yearly campaign, is of some help in establishing a framework, it too is not without problems.104 Recently, Luis Siddall reanalyzed the sources and proposed a relative chronology comprising three phases: the period of Sammu-​ramat’s coregency (810–​ca. 804 bc), the period between ca. 804 bc and the defeat of Aram-​Damascus in 796 bc, and the later years from 796 bc to the end of Adad-​nerari’s reign in 783.105 He also proposed a scheme for the compositional sequence of the royal inscriptions.106

38.3.2.1.  Queen Sammu-​ramat It has long been recognized that Sammu-​ramat, wife of Šamši-​Adad, played an extraordinary role in the early years of her son’s reign. Much debate had centered on the exact nature of that role, which in turn has relied on consideration of Adad-​nerari’s age when he took the throne.

101. Grayson 1980–​1983: 114, §72; Millard 1994: 32–​35. For accounts of his life, see Oded 1998; Siddall 2013. 102. For the possibility that Tiglath-​pileser III was a fourth son of his, see section 38.4.1. 103. Grayson 1996: 200–​201; Oded 1998. For the royal inscriptions, see Grayson 1996: 201–​238; also Frahm 2009: nos. 29, 64, and 79; Radner 2012a. 104. Millard 1994: 57–​58. 105. Siddall 2013: 11–​59. 106. Siddall 2013: 45, Table 7.

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The prevailing interpretation considers her to have acted as some kind of (co-​)regent on the grounds that her son was a minor or a youth when he assumed his father’s throne.107 The sources for her are few, but they are remarkable in depicting a royal woman who played an active part in political events. The most important source in this respect is the Kızkapanlı Stele (also known as Pazarcık Stele).108 This relates a campaign undertaken by Adad-​nerari and Sammu-​ramat across the Euphrates in 805 bc, where they defeated a coalition led by Attar-​šumki of Arpad. They then erected the stele in both of their names for Ušpilulume (i.e., the Hittite name Suppiluliuma), king of Kummuh, to mark his boundary with Qalparuda (i.e., the Hittite name Halparuntiya), king of Gurgum (a polity centered on Marqasu, modern Kahramanmaraş/​Maraş).109 Sammu-​ramat’s participation in a military campaign is unique for a Neo-​Assyrian royal woman. Siddall considers her presence to be a likely indicator of Adad-​nerari’s inexperience, but he also raises the possibility of continuing problems originating with the rebellion that spanned the last years of his grandfather’s reign and the early years of his father’s.110 However, it is difficult to see why both Adad-​nerari and his mother would have left the capital and crossed the Euphrates if there were still an ongoing threat to the throne, since that would have left the imperial center exposed; their campaign rather implies stability in the heartland. Another source for Sammu-​ramat comprises a stele, which she herself installed in Assur.111 Its inscription is brief, but it is worth noting that 107. For the most recent discussion, see Siddall 2014 (with previous literature). For a concise biography, see also Novotny 2002a. 108. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.3. 109. For the later inscription on the other side of this stele, see section 38.3.3 and also ­chapter 46 in this volume. 110. Siddall 2014: 498. 111. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2001. Sammu-​ramat was the first—​but not the last—​ Assyrian queen to have a stele erected in her name in the “Stelenreihe” at Assur; the others included Libbali-​šarrat, wife of Ashurbanipal (section 38.5.3), and Ra’ima, who was perhaps the mother of Sennacherib (section 38.5.1). Reade 2004: 464 identifies three further steles (nos. 2, 3, and 19) that may have belonged to royal women.

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Sammu-​ramat identifies herself as the daughter-​in-​law of Shalmaneser (III) as well as the Palace Woman of Šamši-​Adad (V) and mother of Adad-​nerari. Finally, a text inscribed on two statues set up in the Nabû temple at Kalhu by the governor of Kalhu, Bel-​tarṣi-​ilumma, dedicates them to the god Nabû: for the life of Adad-​nerari, king of Assyria, his lord, and for the life of Sammu-​ramat, the Palace Woman, his lady.112 As Siddall notes, this dedicatory inscription made by a third party confirms the evidence of the Kızkapanlı Stele, namely, that Adad-​ nerari and his mother were on equal terms and were both viewed as actively involved in imperial government; the problem is how to characterize her role in the absence of a formal title that conveyed it.

38.3.2.2.  Adad-​nerari’s magnates In addition to Sammu-​ramat, three powerful magnates (Assyrian rabbûte, literally “the great ones”) are attested during Adad-​nerari’s reign. The earliest of these was Nergal-​ereš (or Palil-​ereš), a eunuch and governor of the province of Raṣappa (location still unidentified), who was the principal magnate for much of Adad-​nerari’s reign.113 Nergal-​ereš served as eponym of the year 803 bc; he was still active in the reign of Adad-​nerari’s successor Shalmaneser IV, serving as eponym again in 775 bc.114 The text on a stone tablet from Nineveh records Adad-​nerari’s grant of the province of Hindanu to Nergal-​ereš in 797 bc, or shortly afterwards.115 A stele from Saba’a ascribes to him a long title indicating

112. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2002. For further information on Bel-​tarṣi-​ilumma, see Brinkman 1999a. 113. Siddall 2013: 34–​37. 114. Åkerman and Baker 2002. The reading of his name is uncertain. 115. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.9.

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governorship of many cities in the middle Euphrates region, including Raṣappa and Hindanu.116 A second stele, from Tell al-​Rimah, gives him a similarly long title and records Adad-​nerari’s gift to him of 331 small towns, which he was to rebuild.117 A stele fragment from Dur-​Katlimmu, recently reunited on paper with a considerably larger piece from the same object (figure 38.3), bears an inscription of Adad-​nerari mentioning his campaign of 805 bc against the coalition led by Attar-​šumki of Arpad, as well as his renovation of the temple of the god Salmanu in Dur-​Katlimmu; the left side of the stele carries an inscription of Nergal-​ ereš recording his dedication of a golden sword and an image of Adad-​ nerari to Salmanu.118 Adad-​nerari and the second powerful magnate, his commander-​ in-​chief Šamši-​ilu, are both named in the inscription on a stele which they erected in ca. 796 bc to demarcate the Orontes river as the boundary between the territories of Zakkur of Hamath and Attar-​šumki of Arpad.119 At Kar-​Shalmaneser (formerly Til Barsip, modern Tell Ahmar), Šamši-​ilu erected two colossal lion statues bearing an extraordinary text written in his own name, with no mention of the king; it tells of his victory over Argišti, the king of Urartu.120 The same battle is the subject of a poorly preserved stele inscription in which Šamši-​ilu’s name occurs.121 Šamši-​ilu went on to feature prominently in the reigns of Adad-​nerari’s three sons, serving as eponym in the years 780, 770, and 752 bc.122 The third notable magnate of Adad-​nerari’s reign was Bel-​tarṣi-​ilumma, who was a eunuch and governor of Kalhu from at least 807 until 793 bc, and

116. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.6. 117. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.7. 118. Radner 2012a, with a proposed date in 805 bc or shortly afterwards. 119. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2. On the date, see Siddall 2013: 35–​37. 120. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2010. 121. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2011. 122. Baker 2008e; Fuchs 2008; Mattila 2011.

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Figure 38.3.  The Dur-​Katlimmu Stele of Adad-​nerari III, with an additional inscription of his magnate Nergal-​ereš engraved on the stele’s side. Composite by Karen Radner.

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eponym of the year 797 bc; as noted above, he erected two statues at Kalhu for the lives of the king and his mother.123

38.3.2.3.  Adad-​nerari’s military campaigns The Assyrian Eponym Chronicle preserves the target of the military campaigns for almost all of Adad-​nerari’s twenty-​eight years.124 However, even when its entries overlap chronologically with the few extant royal inscriptions bearing campaign details, the sources are not easy to reconcile with one another, apart from the campaign against the north Syrian coalition, which is generally agreed to correspond to the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle entry for 805 bc (“to Arpad”). The Eponym Chronicle indicates that Adad-​nerari campaigned to the west and northwest (Guzana–​808 bc; Arpad–​805 bc; Hazazi–​804 bc; Ba’li–​803 bc; “to the sea”–​802 bc; Manṣuate–​796 bc; Kiski–​786 bc), to the north and northeast (the lands of the Medes–​809, 800, 799, 793, 792, 789, 788, 787 bc; Mannea–​807, 806 bc; Hubuškia–​ 801, 791, 785, 784 bc; Lušia–​798 bc; Namri–​797 bc), and to the south, to Babylonia (Der–​795, 794 bc; Itu–​790, 783, 782 bc).125 The intensity of campaigning attested in the Eponym Chronicle lends weight to the likelihood that we lack annalistic accounts from Adad-​nerari’s reign because they have not been recovered, not because they were not written. Based on his re-​evaluation of the sources, Siddall proposes a chronology comprising four major military episodes mentioned in the royal inscriptions: ( 1) pre-​Damascus: the North Syrian alliance of 805 bc; (2) the ceremonial expedition to the Mediterranean in 802; (3) Damascus, corresponding to the Eponym Chronicle entry for 796 bc (“to Manṣuate”); and (4) post-​Damascus: Palestine and Nairi.126

123. Brinkman 1999a. 124. Siddall 2013: 17–​26. 125. Millard 1994: 57–​58; Siddall 2013: 19, Table 1. See also ­chapters 43, 46, and 47 in this volume. 126. Siddall 2013: 11–​46.

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38.3.3.  Shalmaneser IV (782–​773 bc) Shalmaneser IV was the son of his predecessor, Adad-​nerari III.127 His queen was Hama, whose inscribed seal was found in Tomb III in the Northwest Palace at Kalhu.128 No sons of his are attested; he was succeeded by two (possibly three) of his brothers (sections 38.3.4–​38.3.5 and 38.4.1). Shalmaneser’s unremarkable ten-​year reign has left behind between one and four royal inscriptions.129 One of these, inscribed on a stele from Kızkapanlı,130 recounts a journey to Damascus made by the commander-​in-​chief Šamši-​ilu (section 38.3.2.2); it also records the receipt of tribute from its ruler Hadianu, including his daughter and her dowry. The text goes on to describe how the king, on his return from Damascus, gave the stele as a boundary stone to Ušpilulume of Kummuh.131 Although the inscription is not dated, the Eponym Chronicle places the Damascus expedition in the year 773 bc. Further campaigns took place against Itu (782 and 777 bc), Urartu (781, 780, 779, 778, 776, and 774 bc), and Mount Ereni (775 bc), according to the Eponym Chronicle.132

127. For brief accounts, see Baker 2002a; 2008b. 128. Al-​Rawi 2008: 136. For an attempt to identify her physical remains, see Spurrier 2017. 129. Grayson 1996: A.0.105.1–​3; A.0.105.1001. Of these inscriptions, A.0.105.1 is the only one that is securely attributed to Shalmaneser IV. The uncertainty surrounding the date of A.0.105.2 is discussed below. As Grayson 1996: 243 notes, A.0.105.3 may be dated to early in the reign of either Shalmaneser IV or Aššur-​ dan III, referring either to the Urartian campaign of 780 bc or the campaign against Marad in Babylonia in 770 bc. Finally, it is not certain whether the fragmentary text A.0.105.1001 should be attributed to Shalmaneser IV or his successor Aššur-​dan III. 130. Grayson 1996: A.0.105.1. 131. In fact, the text was written on the other side of the very same stele which Shalmaneser’s father Adad-​nerari and grandmother Sammu-​rammat had set up to mark the boundary between Ušpilulume of Kummuh and Qalparuda of Gurgum (section 38.3.2.1). 132. Millard 1994: 58.

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The second inscription conventionally attributed to Shalmaneser IV is written on a stele from Tell Abta (figure 38.4) in the Wadi Tharthar, some 26 km east of Tell al-​Rimah (Assyrian Zamahu). This text commemorates the foundation of a new city by the palace herald,

Figure 38.4.  The stele of Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur from Tell Abta. Istanbul Archaeology Museum, IAM 1326. Photo by Marie-​Lan Nguyen, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​97872​367). Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC-​ BY 4.0) license. Adapted by Karen Radner.

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Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur, an act that was normally reserved for a king; he also made it tax exempt, another royal prerogative. Not only that, but Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur was named first, before the king, and the new city was called after him: Dur-​Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur, meaning “Fortress of Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur.” On the stele, the name of Shalmaneser was later erased and replaced by that of Tiglath-​pileser (III), in whose reign Bel-​ Harran-​belu-​uṣur, palace herald, is known to have served as eponym (in 741 bc). This stele presents difficulties of interpretation, since a period of high office spanning the reigns of Shalmaneser IV through to Tiglath-​pileser III is remarkably long, and other men are attested in the role of palace herald between 778 and 741 bc.133 Julian Reade proposed an alternative date for the inscription: he suggested that the stele text was originally composed for Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc) but that after Sargon II ousted him, his name was replaced by that of Tiglath-​ pileser as a more acceptable alternative.134 Keiko Yamada and Shigeo Yamada objected to this on the grounds that it would be unexpected to replace the royal name with an earlier name (that of Tiglath-​pileser III) rather than with “a later and contemporary one.”135 However, if Sargon were responsible for the change, as Reade suggested, then it seems to me plausible that he preferred to insert his own father’s name, knowing that Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur had served under Tiglath-​pileser, thus retaining a degree of historicity.136

133. Radner 1999b: 301. Other men are attested as palace herald in 778 and 751 bc, so if Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur were appointed during the reign of Shalmaneser IV, it would have to have been between 778 and 773 bc, and then he must have lost the office by 751 bc, and been reappointed to it by 741 bc. 134. Reade 1981: 160. 135. Yamada and Yamada 2017: 426–​428. 136. Yamada and Yamada 2017: 428 n. 124 raise the question (already noted by Reade 1981: 160) of whether this Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur, palace herald, is identical with the man of the same name who was governor of Guzana and eponym of the year 727 bc. I see no reason to assume that they are one and the same, but it cannot be ruled out; Radner 1999b preferred to keep them separate.

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38.3.4.  Aššur-​dan III (772–​755 bc) Aššur-​dan III succeeded his brother Shalmaneser and reigned for eighteen years, according to the Assyrian King List.137 Sources for his reign are scarce: only one, short inscription of his survives, in the form of a fragment of a clay cone from Assur.138 There are two further inscriptions that may be attributed either to him or to his predecessor (section 38.3.3). The king held office as eponym in his second regnal year (771 bc), and in the absence of royal annals, the Eponym Chronicle is the only source of information on his yearly campaigns.139 These were directed to Hatarikka (772, 765, and 755 bc), Gannanati (771 and 767 bc), Marad (770 bc), Itu (769 bc), the Median territories (766 bc), and Guzana (758 bc). No campaign is recorded for the years 768, 764, 757, and 756 bc, and a plague is said to have occurred in 765 bc. In 763 bc, the same year as a solar eclipse which portended evil for the king, rebellion broke out in Assur; this continued in 762 bc, then spread to Arraphe in 761 and 760 bc, and finally it is recorded in Guzana in 759 bc. The campaign to Guzana in 758 bc was presumably intended to quash the rebellion; its successful outcome is implicit in the Eponym Chronicle entry for that year, which states “peace in the land.” We do not have enough information to determine whether the revolts in Assur, Arraphe, and Guzana were coordinated in any way or broke out independently in response to a common cause (or causes). As Karen Radner has noted, the occurrence of an epidemic and a solar eclipse in short succession is likely to have unsettled the population.140

38.3.5.  Aššur-​nerari V (754–​745 bc) Aššur-​dan III was succeeded by his brother Aššur-​nerari V, who reigned for ten years; he was the third son of Adad-​nerari III to

137. Grayson 1980–​1983: 114, §74. 138. Åkerman 1998: 179 (no. 4). 139. Millard 1994: 58. 140. Radner 2016: 52.

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take the throne.141 Around the beginning of his reign, Aššur-​nerari suffered a defeat at the hands of the Urartian ruler Sarduri, who recorded in an inscription that he overwhelmed several kings, including “Aššur-​nerari son of Adad-​nerari, king of the Assyrian land.”142 It has been assumed that this episode took place in northern Syria during Aššur-​nerari’s campaign to the Aramean kingdom of Arpad that is recorded in the Eponym Chronicle entry for 754 bc.143 However, Andreas Fuchs considers a date in Aššur-​nerari’s accession year of 755 bc to be possible, or even 753 bc, when the Assyrian army remained at home, depending on the nature of the victory alluded to in the Urartian inscription.144 The defeat is not mentioned in the surviving Assyrian sources, which are typically silent concerning military setbacks (but in any case we have only a single royal inscription of Aššur-​nerari, a small fragment of basalt stele recording his gift of land to a certain Marduk-​šarru-​uṣur).145 Whether or not the encounter with Urartu is to be dated in 754 bc, it was the campaign to Arpad in that year that likely led to the conclusion of a treaty with its ruler, Mati‘-​’el.146 After that, the Assyrian army remained at home for most of the years during the remainder of Aššur-​nerari’s reign; the Eponym Chronicle lists only two further campaigns, to Namri in 749 bc and 748 bc.147 In 746 bc, a revolt broke out in Kalhu, and in the following year Aššur-​nerari’s reign came to an end, perhaps in a coup (section 38.4.1).

141. For a brief account, see Fuchs et al. 1998: no. 5. 142. Salvini 2008: 414. See also ­chapter 44 in this volume. 143. Millard 1994: 59. For a date in 754 bc, see J.A. Brinkman in Fuchs et al. 1998; Radner 2008b: 137; 2011a: 739. 144. Fuchs 2012: 153–​154. 145. Grayson 1996: A.0.107.1. 146. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: xxvii–​xxviii and no. 2. 147. Millard 1994: 59.

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38.3.6.  The “feudal” era in retrospect The concept of a “feudal” era spanning the late reign of Shalmaneser III down to the accession of Tiglath-​pileser III in 744 bc has developed as a means of characterizing this phase of Neo-​Assyrian history during which the monarchy is perceived to have been weak, while at the same time the power exercised by a small number of the highest officials of the land is deemed to have been disproportionately great. Thus A. Kirk Grayson wrote of the “challenge to absolute monarchy,” noting the emergence of officials with extraordinary powers, some of them being active during more than one king’s reign; he singled out “four strong men,” namely, Dayyan-​Aššur, Nergal-​ereš (or Palil-​ereš), Šamši-​ilu, and Bel-​Harran-​ belu-​uṣur.148 Similarly, Mario Liverani described this period as one “with provincial governors challenging the central power and Assyrian expansion coming to a temporary halt.”149 A striking feature is the way in which some of these magnates drew up inscriptions in their own name—​ something that was normally a royal prerogative—​or alongside that of the king. While it is certainly true that these magnates were unusually powerful, there is no clear evidence that they posed any direct threat to the crown; in fact, Grayson stressed that by “challenge to power” he meant a challenge to the king’s authority, not to his person.150 In spite of the qualification, this implies some degree of antagonism between the parties, yet I see no evidence to suggest that the interests of these magnates were not perfectly well aligned with those of the king; their long terms of office speak to their loyalty and the trust placed in them. Grayson’s interpretation relies heavily on character judgment: Adad-​nerari was such a weak ruler that he

148. Grayson 1993: 26–​29; 1996: 200–​201; 1999: 261–​262 (where “Aššur-​daiian” is clearly an error for Dayyan-​Aššur). Whether or not Bel-​Harran-​belu-​uṣur belongs with the “four strong men” clearly depends upon whether his term of office is placed in the reign of Shalmaneser IV or Shalmaneser V (section 38.3.3). 149. Grayson 1999: 261–​262; Liverani 2017: 539. 150. Grayson 1999: 255.

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allowed both his field marshal, Šamši-​ ilu, and his mother, Semiramis, to rise beyond their traditional stations and spheres of influence as he openly admitted in having their names inscribed beside his own in his royal inscriptions.151 Siddall, by contrast, argued: The picture of Adad-​nerari that has emerged from this study is of a king who adhered to the traditions of the ninth century, yet was politically astute and innovative enough to utilise the magnates in a new way that created stability for the duration of his reign and after, during an era rife with imperial problems.152 In his view, the expanded territories controlled by the magnates should be seen as a way of strengthening Assyria’s borders and consolidating its hold over its neighbors: Adad-​nerari was shrewd, rather than weak and manipulated. However, even if we accept this reassessment of Adad-​ nerari (and it seems plausible to me), the reigns of his three sons and successors undoubtedly represent a low point in the Assyrian Empire’s history.

38.4.  The formation of the empire (744–​705 bc) 38.4.1.  Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc)

Tiglath-​pileser was likely involved in the insurrection that broke out in Kalhu in 745 bc, or at least took advantage of it to usurp the throne from Aššur-​nerari V.153 The Assyrian Eponym Chronicle gives the date of Tiglath-​pileser’s accession as the 13th of the month Ayyaru (i.e., the

151. Grayson 1999: 268. 152. Siddall 2013: 189. 153. Zawadzki 1994; Radner 2011c: 325; 2016: 47. As Radner 2008b: 137–​138 points out, the governors of Assur and Kalhu must have supported the coup, because they kept their positions.

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second month) of 745 bc,154 and the Assyrian King List states that he ruled for eighteen years.155 His parentage is uncertain since there are conflicting accounts and he omits his ancestry in all but one of his inscriptions. The Assyrian King List refers to Tiglath-​pileser as the son of his predecessor Aššur-​ nerari, but according to a brick inscription from Assur, he was the son of Adad-​nerari (III), in which case he would have been the fourth son of Adad-​nerari to take the throne.156 Hayim Tadmor understood this brick inscription to mean that he was the grandson of Adad-​nerari III, rather than his son, although this has not been universally accepted.157 Two of his inscriptions refer to him as a “precious scion of Baltil,” a term for the city of Assur that goes back to the eleventh century bc.158 Tiglath-​ pileser’s queen was Iaba, according to inscribed items found in Tomb II in the Northwest Palace at Kalhu.159 He was the father of his successor Shalmaneser V, and also of Sargon II and his brother Sin-​ahu-​uṣur, although it is uncertain whether they shared the same mother. Sources for Tiglath-​pileser’s reign include sixty-​four inscriptions attributed with confidence to him, and a further seven that may belong to him, plus two inscriptions belonging to officials of his.160 Tadmor and Yamada follow Tadmor’s original study in dividing the royal inscriptions into annalistic texts with a chronological arrangement, summary inscriptions of primarily geographical arrangement, and miscellaneous

154. Millard 1994: 59. For summary accounts of Tiglath-​pileser’s reign, see Radner 2008b; Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 12–​14; Baker 2016. 155. Grayson 1983: 115: §76. 156. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 58. 157. Tadmor 1994: 212–​213. For an alternative view, see Frame 2021: 21; Yamada and Yamada 2017: 389–​390. 158. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 1:1 and no. 35 i 23, respectively. See Fales 2014 on the dynasty of Baltil, especially pp. 219–​221 on its application to Tiglath-​pileser III and his son Shalmaneser V in Babylonian King List A. 159. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: nos. 2003–​2005. Hussein 2016: 11–​25 (on Tomb II). 160. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 2–​11 for an overview.

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texts.161 Unfortunately, the Kalhu Annals are poorly preserved, with only around one-​third of the original text surviving. The main representative comprises a single text spread across thirty-​four inscriptions;162 four further inscriptions represent different texts.163 Tadmor and Yamada have divided the main Kalhu Annals into three series, based on the number of lines and other formal characteristics: Series A (with seven lines), Series B (with twelve lines), and Series C (with more than twelve lines, inscribed on “colossal” slabs).164 Based on these sources, they reconstruct a single, running account.165 Further important accounts are a stele inscription from Iran which is an earlier version of the Kalhu Annals dealing with events up to 737 bc,166 a statue inscription which is poorly preserved but includes events of 738–​735 bc,167 and the rock inscription at Mila Mergi that bears the earliest annalistic-​ style account, reporting on the campaign of 737 bc to Ulluba.168

38.4.1.1.  Tiglath-​pileser’s military activities Tiglath-​pileser’s reign marks a turning point in Assyria’s imperial history and an era of more aggressive foreign policy. Rather than being ruled by vassals bound by treaties, conquered territories were annexed and turned into provinces under direct rule.169

161. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 4. 162. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: nos. 1–​34, with nos. 1–​25 representing the “master text,” nos. 26–​32 being duplicates, while the contents of nos. 33–​34 remain unknown. 163. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: nos. 35–​38. 164. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 5–​8. 165. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 7. 166. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35. 167. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 36. 168. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 37. 169. For the development of the provincial system under Tiglath-​pileser III and Sargon II, see Radner 2008c: 56–​63. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 12–​13 provide a timeline of campaigns and other major events.

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In his accession year (745 bc), Tiglath-​pileser campaigned against the Aramean tribes in northern and eastern Babylonia and deported many of them to the northeastern provinces of Barhalzi and Mazamua (Zamua).170 In his first full regnal year (744 bc), he conducted his first Median campaign, which resulted in the formation of the new provinces of Parsua and Bit-​Hamban and the submission of the Manneans.171 Since Aššur-​nerari’s encounter with Sarduri of Urartu at the beginning of his reign, Urartu had remained a threat to Assyria’s northern borders, but in 743 bc, Tiglath-​pileser campaigned in the northwest against Mati‘-​’el of Arpad, who had revolted and made an alliance with local kings, as well as with Sarduri and various Anatolian rulers.172 He defeated the coalition; its leaders, including Sarduri, fled, leaving northern Syria clear for Assyrian expansion toward the Mediterranean. Three further campaigns were mounted against Arpad until it was finally defeated in 740 bc and the provinces of Arpad and Tu’ammu were formed.173 The following year, 739 bc, saw a campaign to Ulluba on the Urartian border, its conquest, and the formation of the province of Birtu.174 In 738 bc, Tiglath-​pileser returned to Syria, where he defeated Hamath and annexed part of it as well as the post-​Hittite kingdom of Unqu (or Patin), creating the provinces of Hatarikka, Ṣimirra, and Kullania (or Kunulua), centered on the former capital of Unqu; he received tribute from the western vassals, including the rulers of Damascus and Samaria.175 He mounted his second Median campaign

170. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 4: l. 1–​6: l. 7; no. 35: i 36–​4´. 171. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 6: l, 7–​9: l. 2´; no. 35: i 5´–​20´. For Tiglath-​ pileser’s activities in Babylonia and northwestern Iran, see also c­ hapters 41 and 43 in this volume. 172. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 9: ll. 2´–​16´; no. 35: i 21´–​43´. 173. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: i 21–​ii 15. 174. Radner 2008c: 56–​57 (no. 40). For Tiglath-​pileser’s activity against Urartu, Arpad, and their allies in northern Syria, southeastern Anatolia and the Levant, see also ­chapters 44 and 46−48 in this volume. 175. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 12: l. 1´–​ no. 15: l. 5; no. 35: ii 5´–​ 17´; no. 36: ll. 1´–​3´.

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in 737 bc, adding further conquered territory to the provinces of Bit-​ Hamban and Parsua.176 The campaign of 736 bc was directed against Mount Nal on the Urartian frontier,177 while in 735 bc, Tiglath-​pileser struck deep inside Urartu itself, reaching Sarduri’s capital, Tušpa (also Turušpa).178 The campaign of 734 bc was directed to Philistia and the border of Egypt.179 In 733 bc, the first campaign against the kingdom of Damascus took place,180 and in the following year, 732 bc, Damascus was conquered and annexed, along with Galilee and Transjordan. In addition to the province of Damascus, several others were most likely formed at this time: Haurina, Megiddo, Qarnina, and Ṣubutu. In 731 bc, Tiglath-​ pileser turned his attention to Babylonia, defeating the Chaldean tribes of the central and southern regions.181 No campaign took place in 730 bc, but in the following year the king returned to Babylonia, where he defeated (Nabû-​)mukin-​zeri, took the throne of Babylon for himself, and celebrated the New Year festival in the first month of 728 bc.182 In the month of Tebetu (i.e., the tenth month) of 727 bc, his eighteenth regnal year, Tiglath-​pileser died.183

38.4.1.2.  State administration and reforms Tiglath-​pileser reformed the provincial system in such a way that older towns, which had served as local district centers but had not become the capitals of provinces, declined in significance since they could not compete for resources with the provincial capitals that were now the 176. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 15: l. 5–​no. 17: l. 12; no. 35: ii 25´–​44´; no. 36: ll. 4´–​7´; no. 38: ll. 1´–​5´. 177. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: l. 28; no. 41: l. 27´; no. 49 obv. 11´. 178. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: ll. 23–​25; no. 41: ll. 21´–​26´. 179. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 42: ll. 8´–​15´; no. 48: ll. 14´–​19´. 180. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 20: l. 1´–​no. 21: l. 16´ //​no. 22: l. 13´. 181. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 23: l. 1–​no. 24: l. 7; no. 47: ll. 15–​25. 182. Grayson 1975: 72: Chronicle 1: i 19–​23. 183. Grayson 1975: 72–​73: Chronicle 1: i 24–​25.

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focal points for economic activity and wealth.184 It was he who began the transformation of the Assyrian military into a professional army in order to defend the empire’s newly enlarged borders and to conquer new territories.185 Numerous soldiers from the newly defeated lands were incorporated into the army on a standing basis rather than as seasonal conscripts, a policy that was continued by his son, Sargon.186 As depicted on the palace reliefs, these foreign contingents of auxiliaries often retained their own distinctive armor and weaponry that differentiated them from the Assyrian infantry.187 Over time, their ethnic designations came to denote their military function rather than their place of origin.

38.4.2.  Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc) Shalmaneser V, son and successor of Tiglath-​pileser, ruled for only five years.188 Unusually, we have information about his time as crown prince, in the form of several letters to his father, the king; in these letters, Shalmaneser used his birth name Ululayu.189 Following his father’s death in 727 bc, he ascended the throne on the 25th day of the month of Tebetu (i.e., the tenth month), and he died in the same month of his fifth year, according to a Babylonian chronicle.190 His mother was possibly Iaba, buried in Tomb II at Kalhu, according to inscribed grave

184. Postgate 1979: 216–​217. 185. Dezső 2012: 23–​24. 186. Postgate 2000: 101–​102 notes that there is some evidence for the incorporation of Aramean soldiers into the army already in the ninth century bc, but it seems that this practice was adopted on a much greater scale during the second half of the eighth century bc. 187. Postgate 2000; Dezső 2012. 188. For a detailed study, see Yamada and Yamada 2017, and for brief accounts, see Baker 2002b; 2008c. 189. These letters are discussed in Radner 2003–​2004; see also Radner 2011d: 1375 (s.v. Ulūlāiu 3.); Yamada and Yamada 2017: 396–​403. 190. Grayson 1975: 73: Chronicle 1: i 27–​30.

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goods.191 There is some question as to whether he was the full or half-​ brother of Sargon II and Sin-​ahu-​uṣur, and whether they shared the same mother, Iaba.192 His own queen, Banitu, was buried in the queens’ tombs at Kalhu, according to two inscribed items of hers.193 There are no campaign accounts surviving from Shalmaneser’s short reign, although he is generally held to have added three new provinces to Assyria: Que (Cilicia); Sam’al, and Samaria.194 The conquest of Samaria is particularly contentious because Sargon II claims to have accomplished this himself, while the biblical sources and the Babylonian chronicle attribute it to Shalmaneser; it seems likely that Sargon was referring to his suppression of an anti-​Assyrian revolt early in his reign, followed by his re-​establishment of the province.195 The only royal inscriptions of his comprise inscribed objects, especially lion weights.196 Shalmaneser’s reign was terminated in a coup instigated by Sargon, who vilified him for having oppressed the people of the city of Assur with forced labor, although we lack any independent verification of this charge.197

38.4.3.  Sargon II (721–​705 bc) Sargon was the son of Tiglath-​pileser III and perhaps of Iaba (section 38.4.1).198 He took the throne on the 12th day of the month Tebetu in 191. The issue revolves around the identity of the royal women buried in Tomb II at Kalhu, where two skeletons were found but three women were named in the inscriptions on the grave goods buried with them; see Yamada and Yamada 2017: 390–​395. 192. Yamada and Yamada 2017: 395. 193. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: nos. 2001–​2002. 194. Radner 2008c: 62, nos. 57–​59; Yamada and Yamada 2017: 406–​416. See also ­chapters 46 and 48 in this volume. 195. Yamada and Yamada 2017: 406–​409. 196. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: Shalmaneser V, nos. 1–​9. 197. Vera Chamaza 1992. Sargon’s post facto justification should be treated with caution in the absence of corroborating evidence. 198. For an overview, see Fuchs 2011a; Frame 2021: 1–​ 41. On Sargon’s and Shalmaneser’s parentage, see Yamada and Yamada 2017: 389–​396.

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Shalmaneser’s fifth year (722 bc).199 Although the circumstances in which Sargon ascended the throne remain obscure (section 38.4.2), the 6,300 “guilty Assyrians” whom he claimed to have pardoned and deported to Hamath were presumably his political opponents, supporters of Shalmaneser.200 Sargon may have been born around 765 bc, given that a grandson of his was installed as king of Babylon in 700 bc.201 He had at least two brothers: his predecessor, Shalmaneser V, and Sin-​ahu-​uṣur, who served as Sargon’s Grand Vizier.202 He had at least one queen, Ataliya, whose inscribed objects were excavated in Tomb II in the Northwest Palace at Kalhu; it remains uncertain whether she was of Judean royal descent, as has been suggested.203 The name of another queen, tentatively read Ra’ima, has been identified on a defaced stele from Assur; it bears an inscription referring to a woman who may be the mother of Sennacherib.204 Sargon had at least two sons who were older than Sennacherib (whose full Assyrian name Sin-​ahhe-​eriba means “(The god) Sin has replaced the brothers”), as well as younger sons whose names are unknown;205 he also had a daughter whom he gave in marriage to Ambaris, king of Tabal.206

199. Grayson 1975: 73: Chronicle 1: i 31. 200. Frame 2021: no. 105: ii´ 5–​8; see Yamada and Yamada 2017: 423. 201. Frahm 2005. 202. According to inscribed door slabs excavated in Residence L on the citadel at Khorsabad, and an inscribed mace head; see Frame 2021: nos. 2002–​2003. Sin-​ ahu-​uṣur represents a rare instance of a member of an Assyrian ruler’s family being explicitly attested as an office holder. 203. Radner 1999a; Frame 2021: no. 2001. 204. For the proposed reading by Elnathan Weissert and Eckart Frahm, see Frahm 2014: 179; the most recent edition is Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 2001. 205. Frahm 2002: 1114. 206. It is often assumed that this daughter is to be identified with the woman Ahat-​abiša who was active in Tabal, according to a letter from Sennacherib to his father which mentions a missive sent by her major-​domo; see Parpola 1987: no. 31, rev. 26–​29. See also ­chapter 46 in this volume.

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His Akkadian name has traditionally been considered to be a throne name harking back to his supposedly homonymous forebear, Sargon of Akkad; the modern designation “II” stands in relation to the Old Assyrian king Sargon I. Understood to mean “The king is legitimate,” it has been considered a usurper’s name, intended to convince people of an alternative reality. However, according to a reanalysis by Andreas Fuchs, Sargon II’s name was actually Šarru-​ukin (“He (the god) established /​ made firm the king”).207 In that case, Sargon II’s name was his birth name, not a throne name, and we should dispense with the designations “Sargon I” and “Sargon II” because these Assyrian rulers bore different names. As Eckart Frahm has pointed out, Sargon’s reign marks a turning point in the onomastic tradition of the Neo-​Assyrian kings: rulers before him selected names that had belonged to earlier Assyrian kings, while he and his successors did not.208 Sargon II is best known for his resounding defeat of the powerful mountain kingdom of Urartu to the north of Assyria (section 38.4.3.2), and for his construction of the new city of Dur-​Šarrukin (section 38.4.3.1).209

38.4.3.1.  A new capital: Dur-​Šarrukin One of Sargon’s most notable achievements was his founding of the city of Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad; figure 38.5), some 15 km northeast of Nineveh.210 This new capital was founded on arable land in Maganuba that Sargon acquired by purchase, compensating the owners in cash or with equivalent land elsewhere.211 It is unclear why Sargon chose to

207. Fuchs 2020. On the name see also Frahm 2005 and Frame 2021: 19–​21. 208. Frahm 2005. On the exception, Aššur-​uballiṭ II, see section 38.6.4. 209. For accounts of his life, see Fuchs 2011a; 2011b; Elayi 2017. 210. Radner 2011c: 325–​327; Frame 2021: 30–​34. For Sargon’s other building work, see Fuchs 2011a: 59. 211. Frame 2021: no. 43:44–​52. The contract edited by Kwasman and Parpola 1991: no. 31 and Radner 1997: 19–​23, 27–​28 (new hand copy), recording a substantial purchase of land made by the palace scribe, may concern the acquisition of land for the new city; see Postgate 1976: 81.

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Figure 38.5.  The three Assyrian capital cities: Kalhu (modern Nimrud), Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad) and Nineveh. Drawing by Julian Reade, reproduced from Reade 2011: 113, Fig. 13, with kind permission.

move the capital from Kalhu, although discontent with his reign has been proposed as a motive.212 In that case, the relocation would have broken the link between the capital and the urban elite of Kalhu, offering Sargon a new start. The construction of the new capital was an imperial project, uniting many subjects in a common endeavor, albeit under the duress of imposed labor. A group of administrative letters document the

212. Radner 2011c: 325–​327.

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involvement of provincial governors in the city’s construction, assuming responsibility for specific work quotas and supplying labor, including supervisory personnel, and materials.213 The foundation of Dur-​ Šarrukin is recorded in the Eponym Chronicle entry for 717 bc; a decade later, in 707 bc, the gods are said to have entered their temples, and in 706 bc, the city was completed.214 The extent to which Dur-​Šarrukin was up and running as a new royal capital by the time of Sargon’s untimely death in the following year (705 bc) is unclear, but whether or not it was fully functioning, its status as capital was short-​lived since Sargon’s successor Sennacherib wasted no time in relocating the capital yet again, to Nineveh.

38.4.3.2.  Sargon’s military campaigns The sequence of major events of Sargon’s reign can be reconstructed based on the royal inscriptions, the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle, and the Babylonian chronicles.215 In his accession year (722 bc) Sargon claims to have defeated Samaria and deported many of its people (but see section 38.4.2), and opened up a harbor in Egypt.216 No campaign is recorded for his first regnal year, probably because of Sargon’s need to secure his throne; it was at the very beginning of 721 bc that the Chaldean leader Marduk-​apla-​iddina seized the throne of Babylon, which he held until 710 bc.217 In 720 bc, Sargon campaigned in northeastern Babylonia, where he defeated the Elamites at Der and fought against the Tu’umuna

213. Parpola 1995. 214. Millard 1994: 60. 215. Frame 2021: 25–​26. As Frame explains, some of the royal inscriptions have discrepancies in the regnal years to which specific episodes are attributed. For Sargon’s activities in Babylonia, see also, in this volume, c­ hapter 41; in northwestern Iran, see ­chapter 43; in southeastern Anatolia and the Levant, see ­chapters 46−48; against Elam, see ­chapter 42; against Urartu, see ­chapter 44; against Midas of Phrygia, see ­chapter 45. 216. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 12–​17. 217. Grayson 1975: 73–​75: Chronicle 1: i 32–​ii 5 (covering Marduk-​apla-​iddina’s twelve-​year reign).

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tribe, allies of Marduk-​apla-​iddina.218 In that same year he defeated Iau-​ bi’di of Hamath, who had formed an anti-​Assyrian coalition with the rebel leaders in Arpad, Ṣimirra, Damascus, and Samaria, and he defeated Hanunu, ruler of the vassal state Gaza, who had allied himself with Egypt and rebelled.219 Sargon’s campaign of 719 bc was directed to the east to assist Iranzu, ruler of Mannea, against Mitatti, ruler of Zikirtu, who had induced two of Iranzu’s cities to defect; he deported people, including some allies of the Urartian ruler Rusa.220 In 718 bc, he marched to Tabal in Anatolia, where he conquered and plundered Šinuhtu, a fortified city of Kiakki, and placed it in the hands of Kurtî, ruler of Atuna; other Tabalian rulers gave tribute at this time.221 In 717 bc, Sargon captured Pisiri (i.e., the Hittite name Piyassili), king of Carchemish, who had rebelled and made overtures to Mita, ruler of the land Muški (i.e., Midas of Phrygia; see c­ hapter 45 in this volume), and brought him to Assyria. He incorporated the defeated king’s foot soldiers and cavalry into the Assyrian army, and settled Assyrians in Carchemish, which was made into a province at this time.222 During that same year, Sargon was active in Mannea again, deporting rebels to Damascus.223 For the next few years, the powerful kingdom of Urartu under its king Rusa destabilized Assyria’s eastern borders. In 716 bc, Sargon defeated two Mannean governors who, on the instigation of Rusa, had deposed and murdered their ruler Aza and replaced him with his brother Ullusunu.224 Further to the south, Sargon defeated the rulers of Karalla and Allabria, whom Ullusunu had previously incited to go over

218. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 18–​23; no. 89: ll. 16–​17. 219. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 23–​26. 220. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 58–​68; no. 117: ii 13–​16. 221. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 68–​71. 222. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 72–​76; on the province of Carchemish, see Radner 2008c: 58 (no. 49). 223. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 76–​78. 224. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 78–​83.

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to Rusa’s side; Ullusunu himself then submitted. Conquered territories in the region were added to the Assyrian province of Parsua, while the cities Kišesim and Harhar were renamed Kar-​Nergal and Kar-​Šarrukin and were made the capitals of new provinces;225 Sargon received tribute from twenty-​eight local rulers of the Medes. The next year, 715 bc, saw a further campaign to the east, where Rusa of Urartu continued to foment trouble among Assyrian vassals, appropriating twenty-​two Mannean fortresses belonging to Ullusunu. Sargon recaptured them and restored peace to Mannea; he also subdued the land Andia, as well as the peoples of the new province of Harhar /​Kar-​Šarrukin who had revolted, and he received the tribute of twenty-​two Median rulers.226 In that same year, he campaigned in the northwest, fighting a sea battle against the marauding Ionians and recovering cities in Que (Cilicia) that had been captured by Mita of Muški; he also claims to have fought several distant Arab tribes and deported some of them to Samaria.227 Sargon’s famous eighth campaign took place in the following year, 714 bc, as recounted in his “Letter to the god Aššur.”228 He received tribute from local rulers in Mannea and Media, and in the land of Gizilbunda, the city rulers of Appatar and Kitpat submitted and brought tribute, and their domains were incorporated into the province of Parsua. While going to the assistance of his vassal Ullusunu, Sargon inflicted a decisive defeat on Rusa and his allies at Mount Uauš, causing Rusa to flee. Sargon then decided to march deep into Urartian territory, causing considerable destruction. On the return journey, he broke off with a small force to attack the city of Muṣaṣir, located on the border between Assyria and

225. Frame 2021: no. 1: 83–​100. On the provinces of Harhar and Kišesim see Radner 2008c: 57 (nos. 42–​43). 226. Frame 2021: no. 1: 101–​117. 227. Frame 2021: no. 1: 117–​123. 228. Frame 2021: no. 65; see Frame 2021: 273–​275 especially for the extensive literature on the route taken by Sargon and the question of whether or not he traveled all the way around Lake Urmia, and also on the identity of the Urartian ruler Rusa. Marriott and Radner 2015 discuss the logistics of the campaign, including the route.

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Urartu, which was of great religious significance to the Urartians as the home of their revered god Haldi. Muṣaṣir was sacked, its countless treasures plundered and carted off to Assyria. In 713 bc, Sargon campaigned again in the east, in the lands of Karalla, Ellipi, and Habhu, and in the Median territories, putting down local rebellions and receiving tribute;229 the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle records a campaign to Muṣaṣir. In this same year, Ambaris, ruler of Bit-​ Purutaš in Tabal, who had received a daughter of Sargon in marriage, made an alliance with Rusa of Urartu, Mita of Muški, and the other kings of Tabal. Sargon responded by capturing Ambaris, securing his own hold over Bit-​Purutaš by turning it into a province, and settling it with conquered peoples from elsewhere.230 The campaign of 712 bc was directed against Tarhunazi of Melid, whom Sargon had previously installed over the land Kammanu but who had now made overtures to Mita of Muški. The Assyrians sacked Kammanu and captured Tarhunazi and his family after he had fled to Til-​Garimmu for refuge; they went on to procure metal ores in the mountain regions of Hatti (i.e., northern Syria) and brought them to Dur-​Šarrukin.231 The following year, 711 bc, saw another campaign to Anatolia, this time to punish Mutallu (i.e., the Hittite name Muwatalli), king of Gurgum, for assassinating his father Tarhulara; he and his dynasty were deported to Assyria, and Gurgum was reorganized as the province of Marqasu.232 In that same year, the ruler of Ashdod, Azuri, withheld his tribute and conspired with local rulers, so Sargon replaced him with his brother Ahi-​Miti. However, the people deposed Ahi-​Miti and replaced him with Yamani, who fled

229. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 184–​191. 230. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 194–​198. See Radner 2008c: 63 (no. 62) on the province of Tabal/​Bit-​Purutaš. 231. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 204–​234. The Eponym Chronicle reports that the king stayed at home during this year, so the army was presumably led by his commander-​in-​chief or another high official. 232. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 267–​273. See Radner 2008c: 61 (no. 55) on the province Marqasu; the province of Tabal (no. 62) was lost at this time.

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to Egypt in the face of the Assyrian advance, whereupon Ashdod was annexed to Assyria.233 In 710 bc, Sargon defeated Marduk-​apla-​iddina, who had occupied the Babylonian throne since 721 bc; Sargon now ascended the throne himself and celebrated the New Year’s festival at the beginning of his thirteenth regnal year.234 In 709 bc, Sargon captured the former king’s city of Dur-​Yakin, although Marduk-​apla-​iddina himself had already fled to Elam; he re-​established the privileges of the traditional Babylonian cities, settled people from Kummuh in Bit-​Yakin, and received tribute from the ruler of Dilmun (modern Bahrain).235 In 708 bc, while the king remained in Babylonia, a royal eunuch campaigned in Que (Cilicia) against Mita of Muški, who submitted.236 In Babylon, Sargon received tribute from the rulers of Tyre and Cyprus, and meanwhile Mutallu, ruler of Kummuh, withheld his tribute but then fled ahead of Sargon’s eunuchs and their forces, who plundered his city Melid and installed there deportees from Bit-​Yakin.237 In the following year, 707 bc, Dalta, ruler of Ellipi, died and two of his nephews fought for the throne; Sargon sent troops to assist Ašpabara, and the other nephew, Nibe, who had sought Elamite assistance, was captured.238 The entry in the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle for this year records the return of the king from Babylon, the plundering and destruction of Dur-​Yakin by the magnates, and the entry of the gods into their temples in Dur-​Šarrukin (section 38.4.3.1), while the Babylonian chronicles note that the gods

233. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 273–​280. See Radner 2008c: 58 (no. 47) on the province of Ashdod. 234. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 287–​371; Grayson 1975: 75 Chronicle 1: ii 1–​5. 235. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 372–​427. The Eponym Chronicle and Babylonian Chronicle record that Sargon “took the hand of Bel,” i.e., he celebrated the New Year’s festival in Babylon; see Millard 1994: 60; Grayson 1975: 75 Chronicle 1: ii 1´–​2´ (adding that he captured Dur-​Yakin). 236. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 428–​436. 237. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 436–​454. 238. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 455–​467.

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of the Sealand returned to their shrines, and that there was a plague in Assyria.239 The following year, 706 bc, saw Sargon remain in Assyria for the inauguration of his new city, although the Eponym Chronicle entry states that the magnates went to Karalla.240 In its entry for 705 bc, the Eponym Chronicle records Sargon’s death in battle against Gurdî the Kulummean,241 far away in Anatolia.

38.5.  Unchallenged hegemony (704–​652 bc) 38.5.1.  Sennacherib (704–​681 bc)

The Assyrian Eponym Chronicle entry for 705 bc records that Sennacherib took the throne on the 12th day of Abu (i.e., the fifth month), following his father Sargon’s death in battle.242 His mother is often assumed to have been Sargon’s queen Ataliya, although the inscription on a stele from Assur may refer to a certain Ra’ima as Sennacherib’s mother (section 38.4.3). A “mother of the king” is attested in 693 bc, and she perhaps lived until around 683–​681 bc.243 Sennacherib had at least two wives, Tašmetu-​šarrat and Naqi’a (also known as Zakutu, the Assyrian equivalent of her West Semitic name).244 His sons included Aššur-​nadin-​šumi, Aššur-​ili-​muballissu, Aššur-​šumu-​ušabši, Urdu-​ Mullissu, Esarhaddon, and Nergal-​šumu?-​[ . . . ], and he had at least one daughter, Šadditu.245

239. Millard 1994: 60; Grayson 1975: 75 Chronicle 1: ii 3´. 240. Millard 1994: 60. 241. Millard 1994: 60. 242. Millard 1994: 60. For detailed studies of Sennacherib, see Frahm 1997; Elayi 2018. For concise accounts, see Frahm 2002; 2011. 243. Frahm 2002: 1113. On Sennacherib’s siblings, see section 38.4.3. 244. On Tašmetu-​šarrat, see Llop 2011; Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 40; no. 2002. On Naqi’a/​Zakutu, see Melville 1999; M.P. Streck 2001; Baker 2011c; Leichty 2011: nos. 2003–​2010. 245. Frahm 2002: 1114–​1115.

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Sennacherib had already played an active role in administration when he was crown prince, as evidenced by letters addressed by him to the king, his father, when Sargon was away on campaign and Sennacherib remained in Kalhu.246 In particular, he monitored the situation on the Urartian border and reported on it to Sargon.247

38.5.1.1.  A new capital: Nineveh After his accession, Sennacherib quickly moved the royal capital. His father Sargon’s unfortunate death in battle and the failure to recover his body for proper burial may well have been a factor in this decision, but in any case, Nineveh (figure 38.5), with its location on the river Tigris, was much better suited as an imperial center than Dur-​Šarrukin.248 Nineveh was already a very ancient site when Sennacherib undertook its renewal and expansion, a project that involved constructing a massive new city wall that was over 12 km long, with eighteen gates, and that enclosed an area of 750 hectares.249 On the walled citadel mound known as Kuyunjik, new buildings included the Southwest Palace, with its carved stone reliefs illustrating scenes from Sennacherib’s first five campaigns (between 704 and 697 bc).250 Royal gardens were another important feature of the city. Other structures included a Review Palace (used especially for military purposes) on the secondary citadel of Nebi Yunus, to the south of Kuyunjik on the eastern stretch of the city wall. The lower town, which remains largely unexplored, was equipped with an exceptionally wide royal road that connected the Aššur Gate in the south with the Sin Gate in the north. Extensive infrastructure projects to

246. Parpola 1987: nos. 29–​40. These letters, like those of Ululayu/​Shalmaneser V (section 38.4.2), have a greeting formula that is characteristic of letters sent by the crown prince at this time. 247. Frahm 2002: 1116. 248. Frahm 2008: 13; Radner 2011c: 327. 249. For a useful account of Sennacherib’s Nineveh, see Frahm 2008; for the archaeological evidence, see Reade 2001. 250. Frahm 2008: 15–​16.

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the east of Nineveh aimed at supplying the city and its hinterland with water; these included canals and the aqueduct at Jerwan.251

38.5.1.2.  Sennacherib’s military campaigns In Sennacherib’s first regnal year, 704 bc, the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle records a campaign by the magnates to Anatolia against the Kulummeans, probably with the aim of avenging Sargon’s death at their hands in the previous year; this was likely unsuccessful, since the venture finds no mention in the royal inscriptions.252 As far as foreign affairs are concerned, Sennacherib’s “Babylonian problem” was a persistent concern.253 For the Assyrians, Babylonia was a special case: it was maintained as a separate kingdom, either under the direct rule of the Assyrian king or under a puppet of his.254 Sennacherib had inherited his father’s long-​running struggle with the Chaldean ruler of Bit-​Yakin, Marduk-​apla-​iddina II (the biblical Merodach-​baladan), whom Sargon had failed to eliminate. He ruled over Babylonia directly at first, but following revolts the throne was taken in 704 or 703 bc, first by Marduk-​zakir-​šumi II and then shortly afterwards by Marduk-​apla-​ iddina, whom Sennacherib drove out after a few months, having defeated him in battle near Kiš and plundered his palace at Babylon.255 He then installed a puppet ruler who had grown up at the Assyrian court as a Babylonian hostage, Bel-​ibni,256 during whose three-​year reign Marduk-​ apla-​iddina regrouped and formed an alliance with Hezekiah of Judah. Sennacherib mounted a Zagros campaign in 702 bc against the Kassites and Yasubigalleans, who were placed under the governor of Arraphe; at

251. Ur 2005. 252. Frahm 1998. For Sennacherib’s activities in Anatolia, see c­ hapter 46 in this volume. 253. Brinkman 1973. 254. Brinkman 1973: 90. 255. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 1: ll. 4–​61; no. 17: i 22–​69. 256. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 1: l. 54.

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this time, parts of Ellipi were annexed to the province of Harhar after its ruler rebelled and then fled.257 In 701 bc, Sennacherib campaigned against Judah and the west to quell a major revolt, as recorded also in biblical accounts. Hezekiah was forced to release his captive Padî, ruler of Ekron and an Assyrian ally; after Sennacherib besieged Jerusalem and confined Hezekiah “like a bird in a cage,” he submitted and paid tribute.258 In 700 bc, Sennacherib mounted another Babylonian campaign in which he drove out Marduk-​apla-​iddina and replaced Bel-​ibni with Sennacherib’s eldest son, Aššur-​nadin-​šumi, who went on to rule over Babylonia for six years.259 In the campaign of 697 bc, Sennacherib campaigned to Mount Nipur and conquered the city of Ukku on the Urartian border,260 and in 696 bc, he led a campaign to Hilakku (Rough Cilicia) to deal with a rebellious Assyrian client ruler in Illubru.261 In 695 bc, Sennacherib himself campaigned against Gurdî, ruler of the city Urdutu, and inflicted a defeat at the city Til-​Garimmu; this Gurdî is possibly the man of that name who was Sargon’s opponent in the battle that ended his life.262 In 694 bc, Sennacherib attacked the coast of Elam after transporting his troops using specially made ships that he had conveyed to the mouth of the Euphrates. In response to this, the Elamite king Hallušu invaded Babylonia, and Aššur-​nadin-​šumi was handed over to him and presumably taken to Elam. He was replaced on the throne of Babylon by an Elamite puppet, Šuzubu (Nergal-​ušezib) of the Gahal family, who

257. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: i 78–​ii 57. 258. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: ii 58–​iii 81. See also ­chapter 48 in this volume. 259. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: iii 82–​iv 17. 260. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: iv 18–​60. 261. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: iv 61–​91. 262. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: v 1–​22.

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was captured in 693 bc and taken to Assyria.263 In that year, Sennacherib invaded Elam, whose king Hallušu had died.264 Another Chaldean called Šuzubu (Mušezib-​Marduk) took the Babylonian throne and gained various allies, including the Elamites.265 At the battle of Halulê, which ensued in 691 bc, Sennacherib claimed a victory over the Elamites, but the Babylonian chronicles record an Assyrian defeat.266 This was a short-​ lived setback, since in 690 bc the Assyrians began to besiege Babylon. In the same year, Sennacherib campaigned against the Arabs under Queen Te’elhunu and Haza’il and conquered the city Adummatu.267 In 689 bc, Babylon finally fell to the Assyrians. Sennacherib claims to have wrought utter devastation on the city (although corroborating evidence for such wholesale destruction is scarce), and to have carried off to Assyria Mušezib-​Marduk, his family and entourage, and all the riches of his palace, as well as the statue of the national god Marduk.268 From the remainder of his reign, few inscriptions survive.

38.5.1.3.  Sennacherib’s murder and the accession of Esarhaddon On the 20th day of the month Tebetu in his twenty-​fourth regnal year, Sennacherib was assassinated by one of his own sons. The name of the assassin lived on in later tradition, being identified as Adrammelech in the Bible and as Adramelos and Ardumuzan in fragments of Berossus, a Babylonian historian writing in Greek in the early third century bc.269 Early attempts to connect these versions of the murderer’s name with a plausible Assyrian counterpart were not so far off target. The proposed

263. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 22 iv 32–​53; no. 34: 19–​36. On Sennacherib’s conflicts with Elam, see also ­chapter 42 in this volume. 264. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 22 iv 54–​v 16; no. 34: 36–​44. 265. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 22 v 17–​vi 35; no. 34: 44–​55. 266. Grayson 1975: 80 Chronicle 1 iii 16–​18. 267. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 35:53´–​59´. On Sennacherib’s relationship with the Arab tribes, see also ­chapter 52 in volume 5. 268. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 168:36–​47; no. 223: 43–​54. 269. Parpola 1980: 176, n. 6.

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name was Ardi-​Ninlil or Arad-​Ninlil, borne by a prince who is attested as the superior of a “Third Man” (of a chariot team) in a legal document from Nineveh dated in 694 bc.270 However, as Simo Parpola showed, the name should be read Arda-​Mullissu (Urdu-​Mullissu), which is much closer to the later versions.271 He went on to identify traces of the name of this prince in a Babylonian letter, which he edited.272 According to Parpola’s interpretation, the fragmentary letter tells of an informant who had learned of a conspiracy. The man has his face covered so that he cannot see, and is led into what he assumes to be the presence of the king, before whom he declares: “Your son will kill you!” However, the figure he addresses is not the king but Arda-​Mullissu, who then interrogates the man before having him killed. Parpola considers the letter to have been written to Esarhaddon after Sennacherib’s murder had taken place, probably to denounce the officials who had been involved in the conspiracy. In one of his royal inscriptions, Esarhaddon gives his own account of his struggle for the throne, but many details remain unexplained.273 Recently, Andrew Knapp has provided an alternative reading of the sources for this episode, reviving an old idea that Esarhaddon himself was the murderer of Sennacherib, and not his elder, disgruntled brother.274 In spite of this reanalysis, a number of problems remain. If Esarhaddon, who was in exile at the time, were the instigator of the assassination plot, it is difficult to imagine why he would risk orchestrating it from afar, leaving the assassins unprotected at the scene and with no guarantee that he himself would succeed in fighting his way back to Nineveh. Furthermore, it seems extraordinary that the Babylonian chronicle would not name Esarhaddon as the assassin, but simply states

270. Kwasman and Parpola 1991: no. 103: l. 5. For a short biography of this prince, see Radner 2011e (Urdu-​Mullissu 1.). 271. Parpola 1980: 174–​175. 272. The letter (ABL 1091) has since been re-​edited by Reynolds 2003: no. 100 as part of Esarhaddon’s Babylonian correspondence. 273. Leichty 2011: no. 1: i 8–​ii 11. 274. Knapp 2020.

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“his son killed him,” although Esarhaddon is mentioned by name only four lines later on;275 this suggests that a different son is referred to here as the murderer.

38.5.2.  Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc) Esarhaddon took the throne on the 18th or 28th day of Addaru (i.e., the twelfth month) in 681 bc.276 He reigned for twelve years until he died in northern Syria in 669 on the 10th day of Arahsamna (i.e., the eighth month), after setting out on his third campaign to Egypt. He was the son of Sennacherib and Naqi’a (also known as Zakutu), likely a second wife of Sennacherib after Tašmetu-​šarrat; Naqi’a outlived her son, going on to play a prominent role in securing the accession of her grandson Ashurbanipal (section 38.5.3). Sennacherib had bestowed on his son the name Aššur-​etel-​ilani-​ mukin-​apli, meaning “(The god) Aššur, the prince of the gods, is the one who established the heir!”—​a name which referenced his status as successor, in contrast to his original name Aššur-​ahu-​iddina (Esarhaddon), which gave away his position as a younger brother.277 Not only did Esarhaddon have to struggle with his older brothers to secure his accession to the throne (section 38.5.1.3), but over the course of his reign he had to contend with rebellions, as well as with an intermittent but debilitating illness.278 Despite these setbacks, there were also successes: Esarhaddon set his mind on undoing the destruction his father Sennacherib had wrought on Babylon in 689 bc, in particular by restoring Esagil, the great temple of Marduk in that city, and he also succeeded in conquering the

275. Grayson 1975: 81–​82: Chronicle 1: iii 34–​38. 276. Grayson 1975: 82: Chronicle 1: iii 38. 277. Kataja and Whiting 1995: no. 88: rev. 2; see Radner 1998b. The name was once abbreviated to Aššur-​etel-​ilani-​mukinni in a letter of Esarhaddon’s daughter Šerua-​eṭirat; see Brinkman 1998c. 278. Radner 2003 provides the most compelling account of his reign.

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Phoenician port of Sidon, the Anatolian kingdom of Šubria, and Egypt. From his time we have the best evidence for the circle of court scholars and their role in advising the king, in the form of numerous letters, specialist reports, and queries that were retained in the state archives.279 Esarhaddon is often characterized as a rather paranoid king, anxious (with good reason!) for his health and personal security, as reflected in the queries he addressed to his court scholars.280 However, this impression may be partly owed to the accident of survival and recovery of these kinds of texts: we lack comparable letters and documents from earlier kings’ reigns, although they too certainly relied on their court scholars for advice.281 Esarhaddon’s principal wife was Ešarra-​hammat, only attested by name in sources written after her death in 672 bc.282 The king had a number of sons. The eldest, Sin-​nadin-​apli, was likely Esarhaddon’s first choice as crown prince. He appears to have been nominated as such by late 677 bc but presumably died (or fell from favor) not long afterwards, certainly before 672 bc when Ashurbanipal was nominated to that role.283 The next eldest son of Esarhaddon was Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin, and then perhaps Šamaš-​metu-​uballiṭ, who may be assumed to be older than Ashurbanipal because of a passage in Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty

279. There is considerable literature on scholarship and scholars at the court of Esarhaddon: see, e.g., Parpola 1970; 1983; Radner 2011b. These kinds of letters and documents are also available from the reign of Ashurbanipal, albeit in smaller numbers. 280. See, e.g., Radner 2003: 167–​168; Frahm 2008: 18. 281. Radner 2011b: 362–​363. 282. Radner 1999c; Leichty 2011: nos. 2001–​2002. The actual date of her death in Esarhaddon’s eighth year is—​unusually—​recorded in two Babylonian chronicles (Grayson 1975: 85: Chronicle 1: iv 22; 127: Chronicle 14: l. 23), although the day differs between the two texts: the fifth day of Addaru (i.e., the twelfth month) in Chronicle 1, and the sixth day in Chronicle 14. She is not mentioned by name in these texts, but her identity seems secure considering the mention of Ešarra-​hammat’s tomb in a fragmentary inscription from Assur (Leichty 2011: no. 2002). 283. Weissert 2002.

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which refers to Ashurbanipal’s elder brothers (plural);284 also, the Zakutu Treaty mentions him after Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin.285 Ashurbanipal also had younger brothers, including Aššur-​taqiša-​liblut, who had died by early 669 bc, Aššur-​mukin-​pale’a, and Aššur-​etel-​šame-​erṣeti-​muballissu.286 Esarhaddon also had at least one daughter, Šerua-​eṭirat, likely the eldest.287 No other daughters are mentioned by name in the extant sources, but this does not preclude there having been others. It is unclear whether these children all shared the same mother, but there is a reference in Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty to “his brothers, sons by the same mother as Ashurbanipal” which has been understood to include Šamaš-​ šumu-​ukin (and presumably one or more of the others).288

38.5.2.1.  Esarhaddon’s succession arrangement Esarhaddon made an unusual succession arrangement, designating Ashurbanipal as crown prince of Assyria and nominating Šamaš-​ šumu-​ukin as crown prince of Babylon. This decision was enacted on the 18th day of Ayyaru (i.e., the second month) of the year 672 bc, according to the colophon of a royal inscription which bears this date and then states “when the treaty concerning Ashurbanipal, the senior son of the king who (resides in) the House of Succession, was made.”289 The treaty in question, known as Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty, survives in eight exemplars excavated at Kalhu (figure 38.6) and another version recently excavated at Tell Tayinat, ancient Kullania (also 284. Following Weissert 1998: 162. For the relevant passages in the Succession Treaty, see Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 6: ll. 55–​56, 69. 285. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 8: l. 4. 286. Weissert 1998: 162–​163. 287. Baker 2011b. 288. Weissert 1998: 161, with reference to Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 6: l. 94. 289. Leichty 2011: no. 77: ll. 63–​64. Another royal inscription references the dual succession by means of a prayer: “For Ashurbanipal, crown prince of Assyria, and Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin, crown prince of Babylon, both brothers, my offspring”; see Leichty 2011: no. 113: ll. 30–​31.

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Figure 38.6.  The tablet of the Succession Treaty of Esarhaddon with the Median ruler Ramataya, city-​lord of Urakazabarna (ND 4327, obverse), sealed with impressions of the three sacred seals of the god Aššur. Reproduced from Wiseman 1958: pl. I.

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Kunulua).290 The versions of the Treaty from Kalhu and Kullania differ in one fundamental respect: the identity of the parties who were bound over by its oath. The Kalhu exemplars name in each case an individual who may be identified as a chief of an eastern vassal kingdom in the Zagros region, while in the Kullania exemplar the other party is the unnamed provincial governor and his subordinates. This confirms what was already suggested by the evidence of administrative letters and other sources, namely, that loyalty oaths of the kind represented by the Succession Treaty were intended to bind over the entire population, not just the vassal states.291

38.5.2.2.  Esarhaddon’s military campaigns Sources for Esarhaddon’s campaigns include the Babylonian Chronicles as well as royal inscriptions.292 The chronicles present the following timeline: the capture and sack of Sidon (677 bc); the capture of Bazu and the capture and decapitation of the king of Sidon and also of the king of Kundu and Sissû (676 bc); campaign to Melid (675 bc); defeat of the Assyrian army in Egypt (674 bc); conquest of Šubria (673 bc); conquest of Egypt (671 bc); the king became ill and died on the way to Egypt (669 bc). Esarhaddon’s royal inscriptions combine the campaigns of 677 and 676 bc. He claims to have destroyed Sidon completely, and to have pursued and caught its defiant ruler, Abdi-​milkuti, who had fled via the sea. He cut off his head and captured his family and entourage and carried

290. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 6 (sometimes referred to by an older name, the “Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon”); for the Tell Tayinat exemplar, see Lauinger 2012. 291. For further studies of the Succession Treaty (and of the so-​called loyalty oaths in general), see Radner 2006; Fales 2012; Lauinger 2013; 2015; Watanabe 2014. Lauinger 2013 argues that the common translations of “treaty” and “loyalty oath” for Assyrian adê do not capture its true nature, preferring the translation “duty, destiny.” 292. Leichty 2011: 6–​7 summarizes the chronicle entries concerning Esarhaddon’s reign; for editions, see Grayson 1975: 82–​86: Chronicle 1: iii 39–​iv 33, 125–​ 128: Chronicle 14 (“Esarhaddon Chronicle”).

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them off to Assyria, along with a large amount of booty.293 He then compelled all of the kings of Hatti (i.e., northern Syria) and the coast to construct a new city to replace Sidon, which he named Kar-​Esarhaddon (“Port of Esarhaddon”) and made the center of a new province.294 Sandawarri, king of Kundu and Sissû in Cilicia, who had been an ally of Abdi-​milkuti, fled to the mountains but was caught and beheaded.295 The campaign to Melid (modern Malatya, with the settlement mound of Arslantepe) in 675 bc is not reported in Esarhaddon’s royal inscriptions, but some details can be pieced together from other sources, especially divinatory queries concerning Mugallu, ruler of Melid.296 Mugallu was a ruler from Tabal who gained control of Melid and made it his base; from the silence of his royal inscriptions we may assume that Esarhaddon’s attempts to recapture Melid failed. According to the queries, Mugallu later attempted to make peace with Esarhaddon, but he was still regarded as an enemy late in Esarhaddon’s reign (he subsequently became a long-​term vassal of Ashurbanipal as ruler of Tabal). Esarhaddon’s campaign to Šubria in 673 bc is documented in a letter to the god Aššur, which is fragmentarily preserved on two tablets.297 The small kingdom of Šubria was situated on the upper reaches of the Tigris, forming a buffer state between Assyria and the kingdom of Urartu to the north. As the Šubrian ruler refused to extradite

293. Leichty 2011: no. 1: ii 65–​80. 294. Leichty 2011: no. 1: ii 80–​82. On Kar-​Esarhaddon, located near Sidon, see Bagg 2007: 135–​136 (s.v. Kar-​Aššur-​ahu-​iddina); on the province, see Radner 2008c: 63. Part of the former Sidonian territory was added to Tyre and the annual tribute imposed on its king, Ba‘alu, was increased; see Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 15–​19. See also ­chapter 47 in this volume. 295. Leichty 2011 no. 1: iii 20–​31. In a summary passage, Esarhaddon claims to have cut off the head of Abdi-​milkuti in Tashritu (i.e., the seventh month) and that of Sandawarri in Addaru (i.e., the twelfth month), and then to have hung them around the necks of their nobles and paraded them in Nineveh; see Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 32–​38. On the places, see Bagg 2007: 146–​147 (Kundu), 222 (Sissû). 296. Fuchs 2001. See also ­chapter 46 in this volume. 297. Leichty 2011: no. 33. For Šubria and its conquest, see Radner 2012b: 260–​264.

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Assyrian fugitives, as Esarhaddon had demanded, he besieged the city of Uppumu until the Šubrian ruler relented and pleaded to be spared, but too late: Esarhaddon conquered his cities and took many captives. The land of Šubria was annexed and formed into the Assyrian provinces of Kullimeri and Uppumu.298 Esarhaddon’s first expedition to Egypt in 674 bc came after his attempts to secure control over his southwest borders and the Levant.299 His intention was to eliminate the threat posed by the Kushites (­chapter 36 in this volume) by driving them further to the south; however, this first attempt ended in failure.300 In 671 bc, Esarhaddon set out again for Egypt and fought three battles there during the summer; he conquered and sacked Memphis, the Egyptian capital of the king Taharqo of Kush (690–​664 bc), expelled the Kushites from Lower Egypt (cf. ­figure 35.4 in ­chapter 35), and appointed rulers, governors, and officials over all of Egypt.301 In 669 bc, his twelfth regnal year, Esarhaddon is said to have marched to Egypt, but he became ill and died on the tenth day of Arahsamnu, having reigned for twelve years; his sons Ashurbanipal and Šamaš-​šumu-​ ukin took the thrones of Assyria and Babylon, respectively.302

38.5.3.  Ashurbanipal’s early years (668–​652 bc) Upon his nomination as crown prince, Ashurbanipal had been installed in the Succession House in preparation for the day when he would be called to exercise kingship.303 The identification of this establishment is uncertain. There was a palace in Tarbiṣu which Esarhaddon claimed in his inscriptions to have renovated and extended for 298. Radner 2008c: 63–​64 (no. 64: Kullimeri, and no. 66: Uppumu). 299. Kahn 2006: 251–​252. 300. Kahn 2006: 252, citing also Egyptian sources. 301. Leichty 2011 no. 34: l. 13´–​rev. 19; no. 98: rev. 37–​50; Grayson 1975: 85: Chronicle 1: iv 23–​27; see Kahn 2004: 112. For Esarhaddon’s activities in Egypt and against Kush, see also ­chapters 35 and 36 in this volume. 302. Grayson 1975: 86: Chronicle 1: iv 30–​33. 303. Leichty 2011: no. 64: ll. 7–​8.

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Ashurbanipal;304 however, he never refers to this building as the Succession House, whereas Ashurbanipal’s own inscriptions refer to his work on a Succession House in Nineveh, but it is not certain which building is intended.305 As prince, Ashurbanipal had benefited from his own tutor, and when king he went on to boast of his literacy and his scholarly accomplishments, which he put to good use in the creation of his great library.306 Once his father died, Ashurbanipal’s claim to the throne was affirmed not only by Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty, but also by his grandmother Naqi’a/​Zakutu, who drew up a further treaty (section 38.5.2).307 Ashurbanipal’s queen was Libbali-​šarrat; she was the recipient of a letter from her sister-​in-​law Šerua-​eṭirat while Ashurbanipal was still crown prince, and she is depicted on an inscribed stele from Assur.308 He had at least two children, his successors Aššur-​etel-​ilani (section 38.6.3.1) and Sin-​šarru-​iškun (section 38.6.3.3).

38.5.3.1.  Ashurbanipal’s military campaigns from 668 to 652 bc The chronology of Ashurbanipal’s campaigns is difficult to establish: events described in the royal inscriptions are not associated with eponym dates, but rather the campaigns are given numbers, which vary between the different editions of his annals.309 Here, I summarize the various episodes in chronological order, following the dating scheme proposed by Jamie Novotny and Joshua Jeffers.310

304. Leichty 2011: nos. 93–​96. On the site of Tarbiṣu, located less than 5 km northwest of Nineveh, see Miglus 2013. 305. For a discussion, see Kertai 2015: 168–​169. 306. Livingstone 2007; Zamazalová 2011. 307. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: nos. 6 and 8. 308. For the letter, see Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 28; Livingstone 2007. For her stele from Assur, see Andrae 1913: 6–​8. 309. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 14–​16 (for a summary of the dating situation). 310. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 16, Table 2. In the following summary, I give only selected references to the inscriptions, with a preference for well-​preserved passages; additional references can be found in Table 2 of Novotny and Jeffers 2018.

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In 668 bc, Ashurbanipal campaigned against the city Qirbit in the eastern Tigris region, whose people had been plundering the land of Yamutbal (i.e., the region around Der in northeastern Babylonia); he captured their leader Tandaya and deported the people of Qirbit to Egypt.311 In 667 bc, Yakinlû, ruler of Arwad, submitted to Ashurbanipal.312 In that same year, Ashurbanipal led a campaign to Egypt, where the Kushite king Taharqo (690–​664 bc) had taken advantage of Esarhaddon’s death to invade Memphis. When Taharqo heard that Ashurbanipal had defeated his forces, he fled Memphis, and Ashurbanipal was able to recapture the city and reorganize the administration of Egypt and Kush.313 In around 666–​665 bc, Gyges, the ruler of distant Lydia, supposedly dreamt of Ashurbanipal and immediately sent a messenger to inquire after the king’s well-​being.314 Gyges is also said to have captured Cimmerian leaders and sent them to Ashurbanipal in chains along with audience gifts. Between ca. 666 and 664 bc, Ashurbanipal undertook another campaign to Egypt against the Kushite king Tanutamani (664–​ 656 bc), nephew of Taharqo, who had gained control over Memphis, where an Assyrian garrison had been stationed.315 Tanutamani fled from Memphis to Thebes, which he also abandoned as the Assyrian forces advanced; Ashurbanipal conquered and plundered Thebes before returning to Nineveh with its rich booty. Two Elamite incidents took place in quick succession in 664 bc or thereabouts. The first was a campaign directed against Urtaku, whom Ashurbanipal had previously assisted during a time of famine but who had now turned against him, incited by some rebellious Babylonian 311. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 5–​15. 312. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 63–​72. 313. On Ashurbanipal’s interaction with the Phoenician principalities Arwad and Tyre (see below), Egypt and the Kushites, see ­chapters 35, 36, and 47 in this volume. 314. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 86b–​iii 4. For further discussion of Gyges, see Aro-​Valjus 1999; ­chapter 51 in volume 5. 315. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: i 91–​ii 37.

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leaders, and attacked Babylonia.316 When Ashurbanipal’s forces drew near, Urtaku fled and Ashurbanipal drove him back to his own land. Urtaku then died an untimely death and was replaced by Te’umman, who sought to kill the descendants of his royal predecessors; they fled to Ashurbanipal and were given refuge at his court.317 Several incidents are placed in ca. 662 bc, including a campaign against Ba‘alu, king of the island kingdom of Tyre, whom Ashurbanipal subdued by cutting off access to the mainland.318 Once Ba‘alu had handed over his children as a token of submission, Ashurbanipal opened up the routes to Tyre and returned to Nineveh. At around the same time, kings Šandašarme of Hilakku (Rough Cilicia) and Mugallu of Tabal in Anatolia also submitted to Ashurbanipal.319 Also in ca. 662 bc, Yakinlû, ruler of Arwad, died; after his three sons had come to Ashurbanipal with substantial gifts, he chose Azi-​Ba‘al from among them and installed him as ruler of Arwad, and took his two brothers into his own entourage.320 In ca. 660 bc, Ashurbanipal directed a campaign against Ahšeri, ruler of Mannea, and defeated his troops in battle; he then destroyed numerous Mannean settlements, causing Ahšeri to flee his city Izirtu. The Assyrians reconquered cities in the vicinity of Paddira, which the Manneans had annexed during the time of Ashurbanipal’s predecessors. After destroying yet more settlements, Ashurbanipal returned home with a great deal of booty. Ahšeri’s people rebelled and killed him, replacing him with his son Uallî, who made peace with Ashurbanipal and was obliged to pay tribute.321 In ca. 658 bc, some Median city rulers, Birishatri, Sarrati, and

316. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iv 15–​48. 317. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iv 49–​79. On Ashurbanipal’s interaction with Elam, see also ­chapter 42 in this volume. 318. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 38–​62. 319. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 63–​74. On Ashurbanipal’s activities in Anatolia, see also ­chapter 46 in this volume. 320. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 75–​86a. On these events in the Phoenician and Anatolian polities, see also ­chapters 46 and 47 in this volume. 321. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 16–​92a.

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Parihi, rebelled; after conquering and plundering numerous fortified settlements of theirs, Ashurbanipal captured them and brought them to Nineveh.322 Around the following year (ca. 657 bc), Andaria, a Urartian governor, invaded the territories of the cities Uppumu and Kullimeri, but the people of Kullimeri resisted; they defeated Andaria, decapitated him, and brought his head to Ashurbanipal in Nineveh.323 The year 653 bc saw a major campaign against the Elamite king Te’umman, who had repeatedly asked Ashurbanipal for the extradition of his predecessors’ families, but had been refused.324 Ashurbanipal set out for Elam, and when Te’umman heard of the Assyrian king’s presence in Der, he fled from Bit-​Imbi to Susa. Ashurbanipal defeated the Elamite forces at Til-​Tuba on the Ulaya River and decapitated Te’umman, replacing him with Ummanigaš (“Huban-​nikaš II”; see ­chapter 42 in this volume) and placing Tammaritu, his third brother, on the throne of Hidali. In that same year, Ashurbanipal decided to deal with the Babylonians who had sided with the king of Elam, and directed a campaign against Dunanu, leader of the Chaldean tribe of Gambulu.325 Dunanu and his family, personnel, and possessions were brought out of the city Ša-​pi-​Bel as booty. The chief bowman of Te’umman, who had provided support to Dunanu, was captured in the city and decapitated, and his head used to taunt Dunanu. After Ashurbanipal had returned to Nineveh in triumph, Dunanu and his brothers and officers were tortured and executed. Finally, shortly before the outbreak of the war with Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin in 652 bc, Iauta’, king of the Qedarites, withheld his gifts and incited the Arabs to rebel with him against Assyria.326 Ashurbanipal’s troops defeated

322. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 92b–​iv 5. 323. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iv 6–​14. On these events in Iran and Anatolia, see also ­chapters 43 and 44 in this volume. 324. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iv 80–​vi 9. 325. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: vi 10–​85. 326. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: vii 77–​viii 55. Iauta’ is also known in the royal inscriptions as Iata’ and Uaite’; he had been installed on the throne of his father Hazaʿil by Esarhaddon. For Assyria’s relations with the Arab tribes, see also ­chapter 52 in volume 5.

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and plundered the Arabs; those who escaped were struck by famine, and Iauta’ fled alone. Ashurbanipal installed Abiyate, son of Te’ri, as king of the Arabs in place of Iauta’. Kamas-​halta, the king of Moab, captured the hostile Qedarite ruler Ammu-​ladin and delivered him and his people to Ashurbanipal in chains, while Natnu, king of the land of the Nabayateans, submitted to Ashurbanipal, who imposed annual tribute on him.

38.5.4.  The “imperial phase” in retrospect The reigns of Sennacherib, Esarhaddon, and Ashurbanipal make up what Postgate termed the “Imperial phase” of Assyria’s history, a time by which much of the previously incorporated territory had now been under Assyrian control for long enough to have acquired a certain degree of stability.327 By this time, the era of major imperial expansion had passed. However, as far as the monarchy was concerned, stability at the imperial center was elusive: Sennacherib died by the hand of his son(s), and after a struggle for the throne, Esarhaddon was compelled to initiate the substitute king ritual on several occasions, and then to quell a major revolt toward the end of his reign by putting to death many of his highest officials.328 These events gave rise to an increased concern with palace security,329 and the overall size and significance of the palatial establishment increased in the seventh century bc,330 perhaps as a means of concentrating power around the persona of the king to check the power of the magnates. During the reign of Ashurbanipal, we see eponyms appointed who held offices that had not previously been associated with that honor. While several such cases are attested late in the reign of Ashurbanipal or even after it (section 38.6.2), the phenomenon had begun already early

327. Postgate 1979: 194. 328. Radner 2003. 329. Radner 2010. 330. Radner 2008a: 510; Groß 2015.

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in his reign, with a chief of trade and a chief tailor being nominated as eponym for the first time, presumably to reward their loyalty to the king.331

38.6.  Civil war and collapse (652–​610 bc) 38.6.1.  The brothers’ war (652–​648 bc)

In 652 bc, the innovative dual kingship initiated by Esarhaddon came to an end when his older son Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin went to war against his brother and overlord Ashurbanipal in an attempt to secure Babylonian independence from Assyria.332 The sequence and chronology of events are difficult to reconstruct. The accounts contained in Ashurbanipal’s royal inscriptions are few, and they are mostly concerned with the plight of the citizens of Babylon and with the end of the war.333 One inscription does describe the beginnings of the rebellion in some detail, claiming that Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin induced the Elamite king Ummanigaš (“Huban-​nikaš II”; see ­chapter 42 in this volume), as well as the kings of the lands of Gutium, Amurru, and Meluhha (i.e., Kush), to side with him.334 Other allies included the Arab ruler Iauta’, who sent military forces with Abiyate and Aya-​ammu, sons of Te’ri, to assist Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin.335 However, specific details about the conduct of the war are lacking, and with the royal inscriptions we only witness events through the victor’s eyes, as usual. Chronicle texts contribute some fixed points for establishing the broad chronological framework; for example, the so-​called Akitu Chronicle places the outbreak of 331. Mattila 2014. 332. The most comprehensive account of the revolt remains that of Frame 1992: ­chapter 8. For a brief biography of Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin, see Baker 2011a; for in-​depth studies of his role as king of Babylon and his relationship with Ashurbanipal, see Zaia 2019a; 2019b. 333. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 6: viii 9´´´b–​ix 10´´; no. 7: viii 1´–​79´; no. 8: viii 1´´´–​36´´´; no. 11: iv 41b–​109. 334. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: iii 70–​135. 335. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: vii 82–​106.

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hostilities on the 19th day of Tebetu in 652 bc.336 Letters, such as those of Bel-​ibni, appointed military commander of the Sealand by Ashurbanipal in 650 bc, provide some insight into the conduct of the war, although they are often difficult to date.337 Babylon fell in 648 bc after a siege that had lasted ca. two years, and Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin is said to have perished in a fire.338

38.6.2.  The later reign of Ashurbanipal from 648 to 631 bc The civil war with Babylon effectively divides the reign of Ashurbanipal into a “before” and an “after.” The “before” is well documented (section 38.5.3), with abundant royal inscriptions and everyday documents, while the “after” is characterized by a relative dearth of documentation, with few royal inscriptions from the final decade of the king’s reign.339 Campaign reports are available for the period down to 639 bc,340 and the latest account of Ashurbanipal’s deeds is thought to have been composed ca. 638 bc.341 It is unclear why the royal inscriptions break off at this time. There are some dossiers of archival texts from this period;342 these are generally of limited use for reconstructing political history, but they do reveal that new offices (chief singer, palace scribe, chief cook, palace supervisor, and chamberlain) were now incorporated into the sequence

336. Grayson 1975: 131: Chronicle 16: l. 11. For a useful summary of the dating evidence for this period, see Frame 1992: 188–​190 Table 2. 337. See Baker 1999. These are among the final letters intended for publication in the State Archives of Assyria series. 338. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: iv 46–​52. 339. The inscriptions edited as Novotny and Jeffers 2018: nos. 7–​13 describe events dated after 648 bc; see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 16. 340. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 16. 341. On the inscription from the Ištar temple, see Novotny 2003: 215. 342. E.g., the dossier of Kiṣir-​Aššur (Mattila 2002: nos. 28–​33), cohort commander of the crown prince, from Nineveh.

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of eponym holders,343 likely reflecting an attempt to concentrate power around the king’s person. The most important Assyrian military operation after the end of the civil war with Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin was the campaign against the Elamites under Huban-​haltaš III in 647 bc, which resulted in the annihilation of the major city of Susa (cf. ­chapter 42 in this volume).344 In that same year, Ashurbanipal installed Kandalanu, about whom little is known, as ruler of Babylon. The date of Ashurbanipal’s death remains the subject of debate, as does the chronology of his successors’ reigns. It has been placed variously between 631 and 627 bc, although recent consensus tends toward the earlier date.345 Difficulties have arisen from attempts to reconcile the reign lengths given in the Harran stele of Adda-​guppi’, mother of the Babylonian king Nabonidus (556–​539 bc), with other sources. Her pseudo-​autobiography relates how she lived through successive reigns from the twentieth year of Ashurbanipal through the reign of Aššur-​etel-​ilani and then the reigns of the Babylonian kings Nabopolassar (625–​605 bc), Nebuchadnezzar II (604–​562 bc), and Amel-​Marduk (562–​560 bc), dying in the ninth year of the reign of her son Nabonidus, that is, in 547 bc.346 However, although the reign lengths attributed to Ashurbanipal and his successor Aššur-​etel-​ilani in the stele inscription are forty-​two and three years, respectively, other sources indicate thirty-​eight and four years for those rulers.347

38.6.3.  Ashurbanipal’s successors 38.6.3.1.  Aššur-​etel-​ilani (630–​627 bc) The chronology of Aššur-​ etel-​ ilani’s reign is somewhat uncertain, although recently most scholars have tentatively placed his accession

343. Mattila 2009. 344. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: v 63–​vii 81. 345. 631 bc: Fuchs 2014, followed by Frahm (ed.) 2017a: 615; Novotny and Jeffers 2018. 630 bc: Beaulieu 2018: 223. 346. Schaudig 2001: 500–​513: no. 3.2; Weiershäuser and Novotny 2020: no. 2001. 347. Fuchs 2014: 25.

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year in 631 bc, the proposed year of Ashurbanipal’s death, and his four regnal years in 630–​627 bc.348 Little is known about the king, who was still a minor when he took his father’s throne with the assistance of the chief eunuch Sin-​šumu-​lešir.349 This information is supplied in the text of two royal grants made by Aššur-​etel-​ilani: Sin-​šumu-​lišir, the chief eunuch, [one who had deserved well] of my father and be[getter, who had led me constantly like a father, installed me] safely on the throne of my father and begetter [and made the people of Assyria, great and small, keep] watch over my kingship during my minority, and respected my royalty.350 The passages that follow, albeit poorly preserved in both texts, detail a revolt that had broken out at the instigation of a certain Nabû-​rehtu-​ uṣur, otherwise unknown.351 The successful suppression of this revolt occasioned the grants recorded in these two texts, which were intended to reward the loyal service of the military personnel who had assisted the chief eunuch. One of these grants has been dated to the year 627* bc, based on its partly preserved date formula;352 if this is correct, it indicates that civil strife was taking place toward the end of Aššur-​etel-​ ilani’s short reign, but the precise circumstances in which it ended are unknown.

348. E.g., Na’aman 1991; Brinkman 1998b; Fuchs 2014: 27; Frahm (ed.) 2017a: 615. The four regnal years are indicated by the date formulae of dated Neo-​Babylonian economic texts from Nippur; see Brinkman 1998b. 349. For a brief account of his life and a list of sources, see Brinkman 1998b. 350. Kataja and Whiting 1995: no. 36: ll. 7–​10; cf. no. 35: ll. 7–​12. The remaining grants ascribed to Aššur-​etel-​ilani (nos. 37–​44) are too fragmentary to determine whether or not they also mentioned Sin-​šumu-​lešir. 351. Kataja and Whiting 1995: no. 35: l. 13–​rev. 1 and no. 36: ll. 10–​16. 352. Kataja and Whiting 1995: no. 35. The date formula mentions an eponym with the title “Governor of Que” whom Kataja and Whiting 1995: xxviii propose to identify as Marduk-​šarru-​uṣur, bearer of that title in other sources, who is assigned to the year 627* bc by Parpola apud Radner 1998a: xix.

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Only six royal inscriptions of Aššur-​etel-​ilani are preserved, and only one of these—​an inscribed brick from Kalhu—​comes from Assyria.353 The remaining five come from Babylonia, with four of them concerning temple-​related activities in Babylon, Sippar-​Aruru,354 Dilbat, and Nippur.355 The fifth is the most interesting, comprising an extraordinary inscription recounting how Aššur-​etel-​ilani had the corpse of a certain Šamaš-​ibni, a member of the Chaldean clan of Bit-​Dakkuri, taken from Assyria to his homeland for reburial in the town of Duru-​ša-​Ladini.356 Šamaš-​ibni may be identified with the Chaldean leader of that name whom Esarhaddon had executed in Assyria in 678 bc because he had been forcibly expropriating some fields belonging to the inhabitants of Babylon and Borsippa.357 The return of Šamaš-​ibni’s body for burial was presumably intended to help win over the Chaldeans of Bit-​Dakkuri, an important tribal region in northern Babylonia not far from the major urban centers.358

38.6.3.2.  Sin-​šumu-​lešir (627? bc) After Aššur-​etel-​ilani’s death, the chief eunuch Sin-​šumu-​lešir seized the throne;359 it is unclear whether he had a direct hand in Aššur-​etel-​ ilani’s untimely demise or simply took advantage of it to seize power for himself. In any case, his reign was short-​lived: it is attested in the date formulae of eight Neo-​Babylonian documents from Babylon and 353. M. Streck 1916: 380. 354. Also known as Dur-​Šarrukku; see Jursa in Baker and Jursa 2011: 536–​537. 355. Frame 1995: nos. B.6.35.1–​B.6.35.4, with introduction on p. 261. 356. Frame 1995: no. B.6.35.5. The text is preserved on two cylinders and a tablet. 357. Baker and Gentili 2011: 1198–​1199. On Šamaš-​ibni’s capture and his replacement by Nabû-​šallim see, e.g., Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 62–​70. His execution is recorded in the Esarhaddon Chronicle (see Grayson 1975: 126: Chronicle 14: ll. 10–​11), with a parallel—​albeit poorly preserved—​passage in Grayson 1975: 83: Chronicle 1: iv 1–​2. 358. Frame 1995: 266. 359. For brief accounts of his life and the sources, see Mattila 2002 and Schaudig 2011b.

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Nippur, although only two of these preserve a legible month, indicating that his reign covered the period between the 12th day of the third month and the 15th day of the fifth month at a minimum.360 There are no royal inscriptions from his reign, but a single chronographic text from Babylonia, the Uruk King List, mentions Sin-​šumu-​lešir.361 His reign is otherwise remarkable only in that it broke the age-​old line of succession by which Assyrian kingship had been passed down through the male line of the same family for over one thousand years. There has been some debate as to whether Sin-​šumu-​lešir features in an important Babylonian literary-​historical text. According to the so-​called Nabopolassar Epic, Nabopolassar fought a battle with an unnamed Assyrian “almighty chief eunuch” who was defeated, escaped, and pleaded unsuccessfully for his life. Hayim Tadmor proposed to identify this man with Sin-​šumu-​lešir and placed his defeat shortly prior to Nabopolassar’s accession as king of Babylon.362 However, it is difficult to reconstruct the sequence of events in the Nabopolassar Epic on account of its state of preservation. Andreas Fuchs preferred to place the defeat of the “almighty chief eunuch” after Nabopolassar’s accession to the throne of Babylon, noting that the chief eunuch—​whose identity he leaves open—​addresses Nabopolassar as “mighty king.”363

38.6.3.3.  Sin-​šarru-​iškun (626–​612 bc) Sin-​šarru-​iškun was the younger brother of Aššur-​etel-​ilani.364 Given that his elder brother was still a minor when he succeeded his father, and considering he reigned for only four years, Sin-​šarru-​iškun himself must have also been quite young when he took the throne. He was the last ruler 360. For seven Babylonian texts dated by Sin-​šumu-​lešir, see Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 53–​54, with updates in Brinkman and Kennedy 1986: 104. The tablet BM 67313, which Brinkman and Kennedy 1983 placed under Sin-​šarru-​iškun, is actually dated in the reign of Sin-​šumu-​lešir; see Na’aman 1991: 244, n. 3. 361. Grayson 1983: 97: §3.5. 362. Tadmor 1998: 353–​354. 363. Fuchs 2014: 66–​67. 364. For brief accounts, see Novotny 2002b; Schaudig 2011a.

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of Assyria, remaining in power until he perished at the fall of Nineveh in 612 bc. Sin-​šarru-​iškun has left behind twenty-​one royal inscriptions from Assyria, from Nineveh, Assur, and Kalhu.365 From Babylonia there are around sixty dated economic documents but no royal inscriptions.366 The early years of his reign were occupied by a protracted struggle for control over Babylonia with Nabopolassar, who had seized the throne of Babylon in 626 bc. The Uruk King List counts a single year between the end of Kandalanu’s reign in Babylonia and the beginning of Nabopolassar’s, and in that year it places the one-​year reigns of both Sin-​šumu-​lešir and of Sin-​šarru-​iškun.367 Thus, from the Babylonian perspective, Assyrian hegemony over Babylonia only outlived Kandalanu by a single year, although it actually took a further six years before Nabopolassar was finally able, in 620 bc, to cast off the Assyrian yoke for good by driving out Sin-​šarru-​iškun; not long after that, the tables were completely turned (­chapter 50 in volume 5).

38.6.4.  The fall of Assyria (616–​609/​8 bc) The events leading up to the fall of Nineveh in 612 bc, followed by the final defeat in Harran shortly afterwards, are documented in the Babylonian chronicles, specifically, the so-​ called Fall of Nineveh Chronicle, which covers the years from 616 to 608 bc.368 It begins with an account of Nabopolassar’s expedition up the middle Euphrates in his tenth regnal year (616/​615 bc); along the way the people of the lands Suhu and Hindanu paid tribute to him, and on the 12th day of the fifth month, he defeated the Assyrian army in a battle at Gablini in the middle

365. Edited in Novotny et al. 2023. 366. Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 54–​59 list 57 tablets dated to his reign; of these, 45 are dated in Years 0–​7, while the remainder have damaged date formulae; see also Brinkman and Kennedy 1986: 104 for additional information. 367. Grayson 1983: 97: §3.5. I follow Fuchs 2014: 27, who places this year—​the accession years of Sin-​šumu-​lešir and Sin-​šarru-​iškun—​in 627 bc, with the latter’s first regnal year being 626 bc. 368. Grayson 1975: 90–​96: Chronicle 3.

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Euphrates region, taking captives from among the Assyrians and their allies. Nabopolassar then pressed on upstream as far as the Balikh river, a tributary of the Euphrates, and plundered three settlements in that area. In the sixth month he returned with his army to Babylonia, taking with him captives and gods from Hindanu; although the Egyptian and Assyrian armies pursued him as far as Gablini, they did not manage to catch up with Nabopolassar and so they withdrew. The next recorded action took place further east, in Arraphe (modern Kirkuk), where in month twelve the Assyrian and Babylonian armies did battle, but the Babylonians inflicted a defeat and the Assyrians were driven back to the Lower Zab river and deprived of their horses and chariots and other belongings. In 615/​614 bc, Nabopolassar marched up the Tigris with his army and encamped outside Assur in the second month. In the third month the Babylonians attacked Assur, but failed to capture it and were forced by the Assyrians to retreat to Takritain (modern Tikrit) on the bank of the Tigris. Nabopolassar’s troops installed themselves in the fortress there, and the Assyrians attacked them for ten days, but the Babylonians held out and inflicted a major defeat, whereupon the Assyrians retreated. The chronicle mentions that the Medes went to Arraphe in the eighth month, but the passage is broken and we do not know what they did there. It also reports the Medes’ capture of Tarbiṣu, a city very close to Nineveh, and their attack on Assur in the fifth month of 614/​613 bc; the Babylonian king had marched to their assistance but did not arrive in time. Nabopolassar met with the Median ruler Cyaxares and formed an alliance with him before the two kings returned to their respective homelands with their armies. In 613/​612 bc, Nabopolassar suppressed a rebellion in Suhu on the middle reaches of the Euphrates which had broken out in the second month, and on the fourth day of the following month he attacked and captured Rahilu, an island city in the Euphrates. The remainder of the account of this year is quite broken, though it mentions an attack with siege engines on the city Anat in the middle Euphrates region. The king’s fourteenth year (612/​611 bc) saw him join forces with the Medes to march up the Tigris as far as Nineveh, which they besieged from the third month to the fifth, culminating in a defeat and the death

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of the Assyrian king Sin-​šarru-​iškun. The city itself was plundered and destroyed. Excavations in the Halzi Gate and the Šamaš Gate of Nineveh have uncovered skeletal remains strewn with arrowheads, interpreted as vivid testimony to the city’s “last defenders.”369 On the twentieth day of the sixth month, Cyaxares returned home with his army, while Nabopolassar dispatched his army north to Naṣibina (modern Nusaybin); they returned via Rusapu to join the Babylonian king at Nineveh, bringing with them plunder and captives. A broken passage relates that Aššur-​uballiṭ ascended the throne in Harran; the remainder of this section probably records Nabopolassar’s return to Babylon. Although the Babylonian sources considered Aššur-​uballiṭ to be the Assyrian king, archival texts from Dur-​Katlimmu (modern Tell Sheikh Hamad) and Guzana (modern Tell Halaf ) written after the fall of Nineveh imply that as far as the Assyrians were concerned, he was only crown prince.370 The chronicle entry for Nabopolassar’s fifteenth year (611/​610 bc) is quite brief, telling of the king’s march to Assyria and his plundering of a city whose name is broken. In the eighth month he marched to Ruggulitu and attacked it, capturing it on the 28th day of that month, before returning home. In the next year, his sixteenth (610/​609 bc), Nabopolassar marched to Assyria again with his army in the second month. For several months he marched about victoriously until the eighth month, when the Medes joined him and together they went to Harran to confront Aššur-​ uballiṭ and his Egyptian allies, who fled. When Nabopolassar reached Harran, he captured the city and plundered it. In the twelfth month, Nabopolassar went home, and the Medes also withdrew. In 609/​608 bc,

369. Stronach 1997; Pickworth 2005. 370. Radner 2018. The legal documents in question refer to the “covenant of the crown prince,” rather than the expected “covenant of the king.” Radner argues that Aššur-​uballiṭ was not considered to be king because he had not been crowned in the Aššur temple, as was customary. As Frahm 2005 noted, Aššur-​ uballiṭ stands out as an exception among the Neo-​Assyrian kings from Sargon II onward, in that he chose the name of an earlier Assyrian king (section 38.4.3). This may well reflect his desperate need to establish himself as the legitimate king amidst the crisis.

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Aššur-​uballiṭ and the Egyptians crossed the Euphrates and defeated the Babylonian garrison stationed at Harran; the remainder of the Chronicle is fragmentary, but it seems that Nabopolassar succeeded in rescuing his troops, and nothing more is heard of Aššur-​uballiṭ.

38.6.4.1.  Explaining the collapse of the Assyrian Empire There is no consensus as to why the Assyrian Empire collapsed. One thing is certain: there was no single cause; it is likely that multiple factors converged, with catastrophic consequences. Mario Liverani contrasts “inner” reasons (caused by systemic problems) with the idea of an “outer” shock, noting that an outer shock is just the death blow to a polity already enfeebled by internal, deep-​running causes.371 This perspective resonates, not least because the formidable Assyrian military machine, which had conquered vast territories in the not-​so-​ distant past, had by the late seventh century bc become so weakened as to allow incursions into the very heartland for the first time in hundreds of years. In 616 bc, Nabopolassar was able to reach the middle Euphrates unhindered, and it was over two months into his incursion before his first direct encounter with the Assyrian army. Going back a little further in time, the loss of Babylonia in ca. 620 bc during the reign of the last Assyrian king Sin-​šarru-​iškun had been a major blow. However, both of these episodes reflect systemic problems—​they played a role in the collapse, but they did not cause it. Clearly we must examine the preceding decades for clues as to the circumstances that had decimated Assyria’s capacity to respond to such grave threats to its territorial integrity. The war between Ashurbanipal and his brother Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin in the middle of the seventh century bc was surely a major factor leading up to the collapse.372 It involved 371. Liverani 2001: 382. 372. Cf. Frame 1992: 130, who notes that “the Šamaš-​šuma-​ukin revolt may well mark the beginning of the decline of Assyria’s fortunes.”

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a massive expenditure of manpower and resources, with relatively little payoff: the recovery of Babylonia entailed no territorial expansion, simply restoring the status quo ante with no great increase in revenue in the form of taxation or tribute. Perhaps also the psychological shock of this traumatic episode and its effects on morale played a part in Assyria’s decline. Recently, climate change has been put forward as a factor that contributed to Assyria’s collapse. In a series of studies, Adam Schneider and Selim Adalı have argued that a major population increase in the Assyrian heartland around 700 bc, combined with an episode of severe drought affecting a wider area of the Near East a few decades later, resulted in serious economic and political instability.373 Their argument relies on proxy data for climatic conditions from Anatolia and the Zagros Mountains of western Iran, since none were available from northern Iraq itself at the time. They combine this with admittedly scanty textual information which implies favorable climatic conditions in the late eighth and early seventh centuries bc, followed by very dry conditions around the middle of the seventh century bc. Their arguments have met with criticism from Arkadiusz Sołtysiak on various grounds, including the argument that the Assyrians were accustomed to dry years and were able to cope with them, for example, by means of storage, and by floating grain down the Tigris from the upstream provinces to supply Nineveh.374 In spite of his objections, it is not at all clear whether the measures Sołtysiak describes would be sufficient to cope with a multiple-​year drought that was longer than the accustomed duration. Moreover, his proposal that grain might be procured from upstream provinces assumes that those regions remained sufficiently unaffected by the dry conditions to retain their grain-​producing capacity. Further research is needed, but climate change seems a plausible factor to take into consideration, especially as the recently published speleothem data from Kuna Ba and Gejkar caves near Sulaymaniyah suggest that the seventh century BC saw multi-​year

373. Schneider and Adalı 2014; 2016a; 2016b. 374. Sołtysiak 2016.

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droughts which, superimposed over a century-​long drying trend, were among the most severe episodes of aridity experienced in the region’s hydroclimatic variability over the last four thousand years.375

38.7.  The Assyrian Empire and its legacy The history of the Assyrian Empire presented here has centered around a crucial relationship: that between the king and the magnates to whom he entrusted the essential tasks of governing a vast territory. Especially in the early phases, we see magnates serving long terms of office, sometimes under more than one ruler—​a sign of the great trust vested in them. Some of them also oversaw huge regions, or exercised significant military power, acting with relative independence. But rather than necessarily signifying a “feudal” era, the relationship between the king and his “great men” can be seen as one that was mutually beneficial and served the interests of the empire. With the accession of Tiglath-​pileser III, provincial administration was placed on a more professional footing, and it becomes more difficult to identify individual magnates who stood out among their peers in the manner of the “great men” of old, such as Nergal-​ereš or Šamši-​ilu. During the seventh century bc, there is again a marked change in the relationship between the king and his magnates, as seen in the roster of men who served as eponym under Ashurbanipal: often they were holders of offices who would have been unthinkable as candidates for the eponymy in earlier times. This may indicate a desire to check the power of the traditional magnate class (implicated in recent conspiracies against the crown) by rewarding the king’s loyal favorites and seeking to change the social composition of the elite. These changing power dynamics are but one possible lens through which to view the trajectory of Assyrian imperial history. As for its legacy, little is known about Assyria immediately after the fall. The urban system collapsed completely, that is to say, the limited

375. Sinha et al. 2019.

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continuing occupation of some sites after 612 bc does not amount to evidence for the continuity of urbanism per se.376 Within a very few years, written documentation in cuneiform had ceased entirely, although some continuity in the immediate aftermath is attested. Four legal contracts from Dur-​Katlimmu were found to be dated by the early regnal years of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II, between 603 and 600 bc, and some Neo-​Babylonian letters, likely dated after 612 bc, were found at Guzana.377 The “land of Assur” was now part of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire, but it remained essentially de-​urbanized—​surely a deliberate policy on the part of the Babylonian rulers, unwilling to countenance any possibility of revival. In the city of Assur, the great Aššur temple was eventually rebuilt, but on a smaller scale and perhaps not until the time of Cyrus II of Persia (559–​530 bc).378 The longer-​term legacy of Assyria can be seen not least in its successor states, the Neo-​Babylonian and Persian Empires. For example, the Neo-​Babylonian court and imperial administration were modeled on that of Assyria,379 and the Persian palaces show clear Assyrian influence in their decoration. Tales of Assyrian kings written in the Aramaic language circulated long after the fall, and of course the Bible kept alive the memory of Assyria right down until the rediscovery of its great cities in the nineteenth century of our era. R ef er en c es Åkerman, K. 1998. Aššūr-​dān. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1/​I: A. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 178–​179.

376. On the Assyrian heartland after 612 bc, see Curtis 2003; Hauser 2017. 377. Radner 2002: 61–​69 (nos. 37–​40); Arthur Ungnad in Friedrich et al. 1940: 66–​ 68 (nos. 117–​120). 378. Radner 2017b. 379. Jursa 2014.

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Åkerman, K., and Baker, H.D. 2002. Pālil-​ēreš. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 981–​982. al-​Rawi, F.N.H. 2008. Inscriptions from the tombs of the queens of Assyria. In Curtis, J.E., McCall, H., Collon, D., and al-​Gailani Werr, L. (eds.), New light on Nimrud. London: British Institute for the Study of Iraq, 119–​138. Andrae, W. 1913. Die Stelenreihen in Assur. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Aro-​Valjus, S. 1999. Gūgu or Guggu. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1/​II: B–​G. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 427–​428. Bagg, A.M. 2007. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 1: die Levante. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Baker, H.D. 1999. Bēl-​ibni 18. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1/​II: B–​G. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 306–​310. Baker, H.D. 2001a. Mullissu-​mukannišat-​Nīnua. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 2/​II: L–​N. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 767. Baker, H.D. 2001b. Nabû-​šarru-​uṣur. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 2/​II: L–​N. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 876–​879. Baker, H.D. 2002a. Salmānu-​ašarēd 4. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1076–​1077. Baker, H.D. 2002b. Salmānu-​ašarēd 5. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1077. Baker, H.D. 2008a. Salmanassar III. RlA 11: 581–​585. Baker, H.D. 2008b. Salmanassar IV. RlA 11: 585. Baker, H.D. 2008c. Salmanassar V. RlA 11: 585–​587. Baker, H.D. 2008d. Šamšī-​Adad V. RlA 11: 636–​638. Baker, H.D. 2008e. Šamši-​ilu. RlA 11: 639–​640. Baker, H.D. 2011a. Šamaš-​šumu-​ukīn. In Baker, H.D. (ed.,) The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​II: Š–​Z. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1214–​1219.

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The Assyrian Empire in Contact with the World Jamie Novotny

39.1. Introduction Building on the successes of his immediate predecessors, Ashurnasirpal II of Assyria (883–​859 bc) succeeded in bringing all of the former Assyrian territories back under his direct rule, thereby completing the restitution of Assyria. In addition, he also laid the foundations for expanding direct political control to territories beyond Assyria’s traditional borders (see ­chapter 37 in this volume). Thus, he launched the processes that resulted in the formation of a powerful, far-​flung empire that reached its apex two centuries later, in the mid-​seventh century bc. Ashurnasirpal’s reign marks an important turning point in Assyrian history. From that time onward and until its collapse in the late seventh century bc, the Assyrian Empire (figure 39.1) was in direct, regular contact with the world around it, in a range of interactions from outright hostile acts of war to festive occasions that brought delegates from all neighboring polities together peacefully. The present chapter examines nine key episodes in order to highlight the empire’s complex relationship with its contemporaries (sections 39.2−39.10). We also investigate external influences on Assyria, focusing on the incorporation of outside architectural models (section 39.11), Jamie Novotny, The Assyrian Empire in Contact with the World In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0039

Figure 39.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 39. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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before closing with a quick glance at the Assyrian Empire’s legacy (section 39.12). Relevant Assyrian sources are available in considerable numbers and record much detail about the empire’s contacts with the rest of the world: royal inscriptions, letters from the state correspondence, and also scenes in the wall decoration of royal palaces (cf. c­ hapters 38 and 40 in this volume). These textual and visual sources provide us with a solid framework not only for the internal and external history of the Assyrian Empire, but also for the chronology of contemporary polities (cf. c­ hapters 41−48 in this volume).

39.2. 864 bc: Ashurnasirpal II celebrates the inauguration of the new capital Our first key episode brought together citizens and allies of the nascent Assyrian Empire for a grand celebration in order to mark the move of the royal court, and therefore political authority, from the traditional capital city of Assur to the new center Kalhu. Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc) capitalized on the successes of his immediate predecessors and finalized bringing all of the former Assyrian territories back under his direct rule.1 Moreover, his reign laid the foundations for Assyria to expand its control of territories outside of its traditional borders and marked the birth of the Assyrian Empire. Key to this was the fact that many of the neighboring states, while retaining formal independence and their own political institutions, now had to accept the Assyrian king as their overlord. The self-​described relentless warrior had led his armies on numerous military expeditions, often within Assyria’s traditional borders, against places already targeted by his father Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc) and his grandfather Tukultī-​Ninurta II (890–​884 bc).2 Ashurnasirpal

1. For his inscriptions, see Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1–​2007; for other sources, see Fischer 1998: 205–​207, no. 3. 2. Liverani 1992: 96–​99.

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conducted campaigns in the east (against Zamua/​Mazamua in the Zagros Mountains), in the north (against the Nairi lands), and in the west (against Aramean and post-​Hittite kingdoms; see ­chapter 46 in this volume). During his ninth campaign, sometime between 875 bc and 867 bc, he marched westward as far as the Mediterranean Sea—​something the Assyrian army had not done since the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc; see ­chapter 37 in this volume). Along the way he collected tribute (including horses, chariots, and infantry) from many polities, including Carchemish, Patin (centered on Kullania), and the Phoenician cities of Arwad, Byblos, Sidon, and Tyre.3 The vast wealth amassed by Ashurnasirpal and his immediate predecessors enabled him to sponsor large-​ scale building activities in the Assyrian heartland triangle (including at Assur, Imgur-​Enlil, and Nineveh) and to construct for himself an entirely new administrative center, a city that he built from the ground up to be the centerpiece of the Assyrian Empire.4 This was Kalhu. This ancient but dilapidated city was located on the eastern bank of the Tigris, just north of its confluence with the Upper Zab. In 879 bc, during his fifth year as king, Ashurnasirpal decided that Kalhu should serve as the chief administrative center of his empire and the principal royal residence, rather than Assur, Assyria’s traditional capital.5 With a workforce comprising large numbers of deportees,6 Ashurnasirpal began transforming Kalhu into a true imperial center, with an impressive, 20-​hectare citadel mound in the southwest corner of the gigantic city, which was surrounded by a huge city wall. Pride of place among his many building activities was Ashurnasirpal’s new royal residence, which was built on the northwest side of the citadel, directly

3. For this western expedition, see Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 56–​92; Liverani 1992: 73–​80, 95–​96; Bagg 2011: 192–​194, Karte 4.1. 4. On Ashurnasirpal’s building activities, see Russell 2017: 435–​438. 5. Postgate and Reade 1980; Oates and Oates 2001. For thoughts on why Ashurnasirpal relocated the capital away from Assur and why he chose Kalhu, see Radner 2011a: 323–​325; Frahm 2017a: 170. 6. Sano 2020: 125–​127.

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south of the city’s principal temple (which was dedicated to the god Ninurta) and its stepped tower (ziqqurat). This grand palace, which is today called the “Northwest Palace,” took years to construct.7 When the building was finally completed, perhaps in 864 bc,8 Ashurnasirpal held grand festivities, including a spectacular banquet, to celebrate its inauguration. Details about this extraordinary, ten-​day event have come down to us from the inscription of a stele that Ashurnasirpal II inscribed on a stone monument, which was placed in a niche east of one of the entrances to Ashurnasirpal’s throne room in his new palace at Kalhu.9 The text of the so-​called Banquet Stele gives an account of the festivities, including some information about who attended, as well as providing a detailed list of the enormous quantities of food and drink that were served.10 The relevant passage of that inscription reads: When Ashurnasirpal (II), the king of Assyria, inaugurated the palace of happiness, the palace of all wisdom, which (is inside) the city Kalhu, and invited (the god) Aššur, the great lord, and the gods of the entire land inside, . . . when I inaugurated (my newly built) palace in the city Kalhu, for ten days, I fed 47,074 men and women invited from every part of my land, 5,000 dignitaries and envoys from the lands Suhu, Hindanu, Patin, Hatti, Tyre, Sidon, Gurgum, Melid, Hubuškia, Gilzanu, Kumme, and Muṣaṣir, 16,000 people of the city Kalhu, and 1,500 zāriqu-​workers of my palace, all of them—​in total, 69,574 (people) summoned from all of the (aforementioned) lands, including the people of the city Kalhu—​provided them with drinks, and bathed and anointed

7. On the Northwest Palace, see Postgate and Reade 1980: 311–​314; Oates and Oates 2001: 36–​70; Kertai 2015: 18–​48 (with references). For the western influences on the building’s architecture, see section 39.11.1. 8. This was sometime after the expedition to the Mediterranean Sea between 875 bc and 867 bc; see Frahm 2017a: 170. 9. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30; on the stele’s findspot, see Kertai 2015: 26, 31, fig. 2.4. 10. For the menu served, see Finet 1992.

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them. I honored them and sent them back to their lands in peace and joy.11 This remarkable text records that the 69,574 invited guests, including dignitaries from foreign lands, wined and dined on 1,000 spring lambs, 500 deer, 10,000 pigeons, 10,000 jugs of beer, and 10,000 skins of wine, as well as many other delicacies, over the course of ten days. Ashurnasirpal also mentions inviting numerous delegates from the neighboring states to participate in the festivities, namely 5,000 foreign dignitaries and envoys from twelve political entities,12 from the Zagros Mountains in the northeast to the cities on the Mediterranean coast in the west—​all located in regions where Ashurnasirpal had previously led his troops. According to the inscription, men and women from Suhu and Hindanu on the middle Euphrates, the southern Anatolian kingdoms Patin (centered on Kullania), Hatti (i.e., Carchemish), Gurgum (centered on Marqasu) and Melid, the Phoenician harbors Tyre and Sidon, as well as the Zagros polities Hubuškia, Gilzanu, Kumme, and Muṣaṣir, all came to Kalhu at the king’s invitation. It is noteworthy that no representatives from Babylonia or Elam are listed. The Assyrian army had not set foot into these areas while Ashurnasirpal was king. It therefore seems that the foreign delegates invited to attend were all from states that had previously accepted Assyrian suzerainty. The guest list therefore included representatives of the people who were under the direct and indirect rule of the Assyrian crown. Ashurnasirpal not only used the banquet to showcase the grandeur of his new capital and palace, and the fact that he had been able to construct them at all, which had been made possible by the vast numbers of (foreign) workmen at his command and the immense wealth that he and his direct predecessors had amassed, chiefly from

11. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30: ll. 102–​105, 140–​154. The list of food and drink consumed is not included in the translation given here. 12. The number of 5,000 is probably just an estimated, round number, rather than an exact figure.

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military campaigns and tribute payments.13 The ceremonies also conveyed a clear, unambiguous message to all contemporaries, whether Assyrian or from the client states, that the Assyrian crown ruled them all. The inscription’s final line, “I honored them (and then) sent them back to their lands in peace and joy,”14 indicates that Ashurnasirpal was satisfied with what he was able to achieve. The guests returning from this once-​in-​a-​lifetime event were certainly impressed and, depending on their relationship with Assyria and Ashurnasirpal, either enthused or cowed. In any case, news of the splendor of the Assyrian capital and of the largesse of its king would have done much to cement Assyrian power in the wider region. The great expenses incurred in hosting, wining and dining the foreign delegates was certainly money well spent.

39.3. 853 bc: Shalmaneser III faces his enemies at the battle of Qarqar Our second key episode is a veritable “battle of the nations” that saw the forces of the Assyrian Empire face the joint armies of twelve allied western states. At the death of his father Ashurnasirpal, Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) ascended the throne of Assyria,15 and he actively pursued aggressive military activities as soon as he came to power. Despite the threat of Urartu, a new and powerful rival in Anatolia (­chapter 44 in this volume), Shalmaneser was able to considerably widen the Assyrian Empire’s borders, especially to the west beyond the Euphrates. The regions between the Khabur and the middle reaches of the Euphrates

13. Some of this wealth was surely also obtained through trade; see Liverani 1992: 95–​96; Radner 2004. 14. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30: l.154. 15. For his inscriptions, see Grayson 1996: A.0.102.1–​2003; for other sources, see Baker and Yamada 2002: 1072–​1077, no. 3; Baker 2008a.

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came under direct Assyrian control and were transformed into Assyrian provinces that were administered by governors appointed by the king.16 Ashurnasirpal’s successes had made it abundantly clear that Assyria was the dominant political power of the Middle East, and by the time Shalmaneser became king, the rulers of the polities west of the Euphrates had realized that they were not powerful enough on their own to stop the Assyrian forces from invading their countries. Thus, they began forming coalitions with their neighbors in the hopes of preventing the empire’s advances. Shalmaneser III was therefore the first Assyrian ruler to face large multistate coalitions on the battlefield. Until the collapse of the empire in the late seventh century bc (due to a Babylonian-​Median alliance), this proved to be the most effective way of offering resistance to the Assyrian military force. When Shalmaneser crossed the Euphrates and marched toward northwestern Syria and the Levantine Coast, he found that unlike his predecessors, who typically dealt with enemy states individually (preferably by putting their capitals under siege), he now encountered heavy opposition from large allied armies that attempted to waylay the Assyrian troops and force them into an open battle. In his first year as king, in 858 bc, Shalmaneser III led his armies west on an expedition to the Mediterranean Sea. He followed more or less the same route as his father,17 but unlike him, Shalmaneser faced a coalition force of Aramean and post-​Hittite states from the region, supported by allies from further away. The inscription of the so-​called Kurkh Monolith, a stone stele discovered on the upper reaches of the Tigris in 1861 (figure 39.2), records that at the cities of Lutibu and Alimuš (or Aliṣir), the Assyrian forces had to battle the troops sent by an alliance of various local polities.18 At Lutibu, the coalition forces comprised troops

16. For the western conquests, see Yamada 2000; for the new provinces, see Radner 2008: 48–​50, nos. 12 and 15. 17. For the route, see Bagg 2011: Karte 4.2. 18. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: i 29–​ii 13.

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Figure 39.2.  The so-​called Kurkh Monolith of Shalmaneser III, a rounded-​ topped stele that is inscribed with the earliest account of the Battle of Qarqar. British Museum, BM 118884. © The Trustees of the British Museum Creative Commons. Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

provided by Hayyanu of Sam’al, Sapalulme (i.e., Hittitie Suppiluliuma) of Patin (centered on Kullania), Sangara of Carchemish, and Ahuni of Bit-​Adini, while at Alimuš, the alliance had doubled in size and also consisted of contingents dispatched by Katê of Que (Plain Cilicia), Pihirim

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of Hilakku (Rough Cilicia), Bur-​Anate of Yasbuq,19 and Adanu of Yahanu (i.e., Bit-​Agusi with the capital Arpad). Although Shalmaneser’s army eventually won the day in both cases, the Assyrian army was forced to return several times before the king felt that he had made any political gains in the region. When Shalmaneser returned to northern Syria and the Levant in 853 bc, the Assyrian army once again faced a multistate opposition. This time, the anti-​Assyrian coalition had grown to an impressive twelve polities and was jointly led by the kings of the two largest states east of the Euphrates: Hadad-​ezer (Assyrian Adda-​idri) of Damascus, and Urhilina (Assyrian Irhulenu) of Hamath. Their forces included infantry troops and chariot troops from Damascus, Hamath, Israel, Ammon, and several polities on the Phoenician coast (Byblos, probably Ṣimirra, Arqa, Arwad, Usnu, and Siyanu), as well as an Arab contingent. These coalition troops managed to force an open battle near the city of Qarqar (modern Tell Qarqur) near the Orontes River, which is today known as the Battle of Qarqar.20 Its earliest and most detailed description is recorded on Shalmaneser’s Kurkh Monolith.21 This version of the king’s annals was written not long after the battle itself (perhaps in late 853 bc or in 852 bc) and describes the battle as follows: I approached the city of Qarqar. I razed, destroyed, and burned the city Qarqar, his royal city. An alliance had been formed of these twelve kings: 1,200 chariots, 1,200 cavalry, and 20,000 troops of Hadad-​ezer of Damascus; 700 chariots, 700 cavalry, and 10,000 troops of Urhilina of Hamath; 2,000 chariots and 10,000 troops of Ahab of Israel; 500 troops of Byblos; 1,000 troops of

19. For the suggestion that Yasbuq is situated in the northern parts of the Beqaa Valley, see Na’aman 1999: 424. 20. Recent assessments of the Battle of Qarqar include Yamada 2000: 143–​162; Younger 2007; Bagg 2011: 197; Frahm 2017a: 171. 21. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2.

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Ṣimirra;22 10 chariots and 10,000 troops of the land of Irqanatu (i.e., Arqa); 200 troops of Mattan-​Ba‘al of the city of Arwad; 200 troops of the land of Usanatu (i.e., Usnu); 30 chariots and [N]‌,000 troops of Adoni-​Ba‘al of the land Siyanu; 1,000 camels of Gindibu of the Arabs; [N] hundred troops of Ba’asa, the man of Bit-​Ruhubi, of Ammon. They attacked in order to (wage) war and battle against me. With the supreme forces which the god Aššur, my lord, had given to me and with the mighty weapons which the divine standard that goes before me had granted me, I fought with them. I defeated them from the city of Qarqar as far as the city of Gilzau. I felled with the sword 14,000 troops, their fighting men, and rained down upon them destruction as the god Adad (i.e., the storm-​god) would. I filled the plain with their spread-​out corpses and felled their extensive troops with the sword. I made their blood flow in the wadis. The plain was too small to lay the (large number of ) their bodies flat; the extensive area was not sufficient to accommodate burying (all of ) them. I dammed up the Orontes River with their bodies like a bridge. In the midst of this battle, I took away from them chariots, cavalry, and teams of horses.23 Circumstantial evidence suggests that no fewer than 70,000 Assyrian troops fought the allied forces at Qarqar.24 In his own inscription, Shalmaneser claimed complete victory over his foes, but since these are the only available descriptions of the fight between Assyria and the coalition forces, the outcome of the Battle of Qarqar is not reported in

22. To assign these troops to the Mediterranean coastal city of Ṣimirra (as suggested by Lemaire 1993) instead of “Egypt” (KUR.mu-​uṣ-​ra-​a-​a, as the text has it) is more likely in view of the relatively small number of troops and their mention between the neighboring polities of Byblos and Arqa; see c­ hapter 47 in this volume. 23. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 89–​ 102; note also the shorter account A.0.102.6: ii 26–​33. 24. De Odorico 1995: 108–​109.

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other sources. It was more likely a draw, as Shalmaneser did not make any significant political or territorial gains in its immediate aftermath. The Assyrian king returned to western Syria in 849, 848, and 845 bc, and fought each time against large coalition forces led by Hadad-​ezer of Damascus; the gains of these expeditions were fairly modest.25 Given the fact that Shalmaneser went on to face allied forces led by Damascus a further three times after the Battle of Qarqar, the great victory at Qarqar, of which Shalmaneser boasts, seems implausible, but a resounding defeat is equally unlikely. The combined efforts of Hadad-​ ezer of Damascus, Urhilina of Hamath, and their Israelite, Ammonite, Arab, and Phoenician allies prevented the Assyrian Empire from annexing territories west of the Euphrates. At least while Hadad-​ezer of Damascus was alive, Shalmaneser ultimately failed to fulfill his political ambitions to cement Assyrian imperial power in the west. The alliances formed against the empire by local polities and also allies further afield who felt wary of the prospect of further Assyrian expansion were the crucial element that enabled that resistance at all.

39.4. 805 bc: Adad-​nerari III and his mother tour the west Shalmaneser’s succession proved problematic, and his son Šamši-​Adad V (823–​811 bc) only came to the throne after a bloody civil war that engulfed the Assyrian heartland (­chapter 38 in this volume). In 811 bc, Šamši-​Adad V died and was succeeded by his son Adad-​nerari III (810–​ 783 bc), who was probably still a minor when he ascended the throne.26 Despite being king, Adad-​nerari was not the most powerful and influential person, neither at the royal court in Kalhu nor in the regions of the Assyrian Empire, and especially not in the western provinces. Real power was initially held by his mother Sammu-​ramat (the legendary

25. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: ii 55–​ iii 15, 24–​ 33. For the routes, see Bagg 2011: Karte 4.6–​8. 26. For his inscriptions, see Grayson 1996: A.0.104.1–​2017.

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Semiramis),27 the commander-​in-​chief (a high office of state first held by Nergal-​ila’i,28 and then by Šamši-​ilu29), and Nergal-​ereš (or perhaps Palil-​ereš),30 the governor of the Raṣappa province. From contemporary, as well as later, textual sources, it is abundantly clear that the queen mother Sammu-​ramat wielded considerable power and commanded a great deal of respect during the early years of her son’s reign. She appears to have acted as (co-​)regent for the first years of her son’s reign (810–​ca. 804 bc). With her support and that of several of his magnates, it was ensured that Assyria remained a major player on the international scene, although its standing was certainly diminished. This was achieved in part by military expeditions that were either jointly led by the king with Sammu-​ramat or Šamši-​ilu, or were under the sole command of Šamši-​ilu or another magnate. The third key episode highlighted in this survey of the Assyrian Empire’s interaction with the wider world is commemorated by a stele that was set up in 805 bc (Adad-​nerari’s sixth regnal year) as a boundary stone between the two post-​Hittite polities Gurgum and Kummuh (­chapter 46 in this volume). The inscription on the so-​called Kızkapanlı Stele (or Pazarcık Stele) provides information about an expedition undertaken by Adad-​nerari and Sammu-​ramat to regions west of the Euphrates, including a battle fought at Paqarahubuni against a coalition force led by Attar-​šumki of Arpad.31 The relevant passage of that text reads: Boundary stone of Adad-​nerari (III), king of Assyria, son of Šamši-​Adad (V)‌, king of Assyria, and of Sammu-​ramat, the Palace Woman of Šamši-​Adad, king of Assyria, mother of Adad-​nerari,

27. Recent studies on the king’s mother include Novotny 2002a; Siddall 2013: 86–​ 100; 2014; Frahm 2016. 28. Luppert-​Barnard 2001: 948–​949, no. 4. 29. Dalley 2000; Baker 2008b; Fuchs 2008; Mattila 2011. 30. Åkerman and Baker 2002; Radner 2012; Siddall 2013: 34–​37. 31. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.3; Siddall 2013: 52–​54.

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strong king, king of Assyria, daughter-​in-​law of Shalmaneser (III), king of the four quarters. When Ušpilulume, king of Kummuh, caused Adad-​nerari, king of Assyria, and the Palace Woman Sammu-​ramat to cross the Euphrates, I (i.e., Adad-​nerari) fought a pitched battle with them—​with Attar-​šumki, son of Adramu, of the city of Arpad, together with eight kings who were with him at the city Paqarahubuni. I took away their camp from them. To save their lives, they dispersed. In this (same) year, they erected this boundary stone between Ušpilulume, king of Kummuh, and Qalparuda, son of Palalam, king of Gurgum.32 The participation of Sammu-​ramat in this expedition is unique for an Assyrian royal woman, as they normally did not venture outside of Assyria’s borders. The text specifies that Suppiluliuma (Assyrian Ušpilulume) of Kummuh had invited both the young Adad-​nerari and his mother to cross the Euphrates to settle a boundary dispute between him and his neighbor Halparuntiya II (Assyrian Qalparuda) of Gurgum.33 Because of her West Semitic name, it is possible that she was a princess from one of the Aramean or post-​Hittite states who had been taken to Assyria during Shalmaneser III’s reign.34 Perhaps it was thought that her presence would help resolve the local conflict and further the empire’s interests on the Euphrates? In any case, the boundary agreement established between Kummuh and Gurgum in 805 bc lasted while Adad-​nerari was alive, and was renegotiated in 776 bc during the reign of his successor Shalmaneser IV (782–​773 bc).35 Given that Adad-​nerari and Sammu-​ramat were met by yet another anti-​Assyrian multistate coalition—​this time led by Attar-​šumki of Arpad (or Bit-​Agusi), the new leading power in northwestern Syria 32. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.3: ll. 1–​18. 33. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.3: ll. 7–​10. 34. Novotny 2002a: 1084 suggests that the queen could have originated from Bit-​ Adini, Bit-​Gabbari (centered on Sam’al), Carchemish, Gurgum (centered on Marqasu), Patin (centered on Kullania), or Que. 35. Grayson 1996: A.0.105.1.

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(­chapter 46 in this volume)—it is clear that the royal train crossed the Euphrates with the Assyrian army. Nevertheless, Suppiluliuma’s invitation to mediate in the border conflict between Kummuh and Gurgum makes it clear that the Assyrian Empire was no longer seen as a menace by every polity beyond the Euphrates. Our third key episode therefore illustrates the Assyrian crown’s ability and willingness to act as overlord in ways that were perceived as beneficial by the client states.

39.5.  743–​735 bc: Tiglath-​pileser III faces Sarduri of Urartu Adad-​nerari was succeeded in turn by three of his sons: Shalmaneser IV (782–​773 bc), Aššur-​dan III (772–​755 bc), and Aššur-​nerari V (754–​745 bc). While these kings sat on the Assyrian throne, internal power struggles, succession conflicts, and widespread famine and plague considerably weakened Assyria’s fortunes, both at home and abroad (­chapter 38 in this volume). During Aššur-​nerari V’s reign, Urartu superseded the Assyrian Empire as the dominant international superpower and the former client states flocked to its king Sarduri, who even managed to defeat the Assyrian forces in battle (­chapter 44 in this volume). Our fifth key episode took place over a period of several years and concerns the efforts by Aššur-​nerari’s successor to reclaim the Assyrian Empire’s position as the unrivaled overlord of its errant client states. In 746 bc, a revolt broke out at Kalhu.36 At the beginning of the following year, 745 bc, Aššur-​nerari was deposed and probably killed; his fate is not recorded in the extant textual sources. His replacement ascended the throne as Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc).37 He not only quickly reversed the Assyrian Empire’s rapidly dwindling fortunes, but he also ushered Assyria once again into an era of internal stability with a strong, central authority, unrivaled military might, and shrewd

36. Millard 1994: 43, 57 (years 746–​745 BC). 37. For his inscriptions, see Tadmor and Yamada 2011; for other sources, see Baker 2011: 1329–​1331, no. 3; 2016.

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international diplomacy. During Tiglath-​pileser’s reign, the Assyrian Empire again became the dominant political player and military force of its day. He pursued an aggressive annexation policy toward the neighboring states and converted newly conquered lands immediately into provinces that were directly managed by officials (typically eunuchs) who were appointed by and loyal to the king.38 By conducting large-​scale military campaigns almost every year, Tiglath-​pileser more than doubled Assyria’s territorial holdings, particularly to the west, east, and south.39 When Tiglath-​pileser came to power, Urartu was ruled by Sarduri, son of Argišti, who was a force to be reckoned with. In this fourth key episode, we witness how the smaller regional states that previously had been forced to accept Assyrian suzerainty had now cultivated an alternative overlord and protector in the shape of Urartu. The newly resurgent Assyrian Empire and Urartu were therefore in direct competition for the favor of the smaller polities. The first clash between the successful veteran ruler and the aggressive new Assyrian king came soon after Tiglath-​pileser’s accession, in 743 bc. The intense rivalry that the Assyrian monarch felt toward his Urartian contemporary is recorded in some detail in the annalistic texts and summary inscriptions written on stone slabs incorporated into the fabric of the Central Palace at Kalhu, the new residence that Tiglath-​pileser had built for himself, as well as on monuments erected around the empire (especially in newly established provincial centers).40 The best preserved account of Tiglath-​pileser’s first confrontation with Sarduri comes from the so-​called Iran Stele, which was set up in 737 bc in one of the two provincial capitals created in western Iran.41 The relevant passage of the account of the events in the year 743 bc reads as follows:

38. On the relationship between the king and his governors, see Radner 2011b. See also ­chapter 38 in this volume. 39. For the new provinces, see Radner 2008: 56–​63. 40. For a survey of these texts, see Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 4–​10. 41. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35.

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Mati‘-​’el, son of Attar-​šumki, fomented a rebellious insurrection against Assyria and violated (his loyalty oath). [He sent] hostile messages about Assyria to the kings . . . of the land of Hatti and . . . the land of Urartu and caused enmity in all lands. Sarduri of the land of Urartu, Sulumal of the land of Melid, and Tarhularu of the land of Gurgum came to his aid. Between the lands of Kištan and Halpi, districts of the land Kummuh, they trusted in [one another’s strength and] drew up a battle array. They fled to save their lives, and Sarduri of the land Urartu rode off alone on a mare and escaped during the night.42 Urartu was not at all the target of this campaign, but rather its longtime ally, the kingdom of Arpad (or Bit-​Agusi)—​the dominant regional power in northwestern Syria since the days of Adad-​nerari III (section 39.4). Mati‘-​’el, the new ruler of Arpad, is portrayed as an agent of anti-​Assyrian agitation who not only failed his duties as an Assyrian client but also actively rallied others against the empire, calling upon the Urartian king and his western Anatolian allies Sulumal of Melid, Tarhularu of Gurgum, and Kuštašpi of Kummuh (who is not mentioned in the passage in the Iran Stele, but in another, later text recording the confrontation43). Tiglath-​pileser’s troops crossed the Euphrates at Til-​Barsip and, upon learning that the coalition forces led by Sarduri of Urartu were marching to Arpad, the Assyrians headed north to meet the foe head-​on. The two armies fought a pitched battle in the area “between Kištan and Halpi,” two hitherto-​unidentified districts of the kingdom of Kummuh, situated near the Sinzi River (modern Göksu). Tiglath-​pileser’s troops won the day, forcing the Urartian king and his supporters into retreat. If the

42. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: i 21´–​34´a; note the longer account no. 9: ll. 2´–​16´. 43. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: ll. 45–​50. For Gurgum, Kummuh, and Melid, see c­ hapter 46 in this volume.

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Figure 39.3.  Detail of the wall decoration of Tiglath-​pileser III’s Central Palace at Kalhu depicting an enemy rider being attacked by Assyrian horsemen. British Museum, BM 118905. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

Assyrian accounts are to be believed, Sarduri abandoned his camp during the night and fled on horseback back to Urartu (figure 39.3), via Mount Sizir (a still-​to-​be identified mountain). Subsequently, Tiglath-​pileser split his army into three parts: some troops pursued the Urartian king, who, however, managed to elude capture; another company of Assyrian forces continued the march northwest into the kingdoms of Kummuh and Gurgum, where they conquered cities and extracted heavy tribute from Kuštašpi of Kummuh, Tarhularu of Gurgum, and Sulumal of Melid; and the remainder of the troops marched southward to Arpad, Mati‘-​’el’s royal city, and laid siege

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to it. After a three-​year siege, Arpad was taken in 740 bc and was transformed into an Assyrian provincial capital.44 But despite suffering a heavy defeat on the battlefield and the ignominy of a widely publicized nocturnal escape, Sarduri of Urartu was not deterred and continued to support anti-​Assyrian efforts. Tiglath-​pileser therefore took measures to isolate Urartu from its allies. A small polity called Ulluba, situated in the formidable mountains directly to the north of the Assyrian heartland at the border with Urartu, was chosen as a suitable victim to demonstrate to the world that Sarduri could not protect his clients against the wrath of Assyria. In 739 bc, the Assyrian army attacked and conquered Ulluba and turned it into a new Assyrian province called Birtu.45 A rock relief and inscription was carved into nearby Mount Illimmeru (modern Mila Mergi) to commemorate the victory.46 Several Urartian border fortresses in the vicinity of Mount Nal were conquered in 736 bc, and were added to the territory of the new province.47 By then, Tiglath-​pileser had successfully managed to isolate Sarduri of Urartu from his former clients. In the west, the kingdoms of Gurgum, Kummuh, and Melid had all returned to the fold of the Assyrian Empire and resumed their duties as tribute-​paying client states, and in the east, the kingdom of Mannea (­chapter 43 in this volume) aligned its political interests with those of Tiglath-​pileser, who was then finally in a position to launch a campaign directly against Sarduri. In 735 bc, Tiglath-​pileser and his forces marched across the Taurus Mountains and attacked Sarduri’s capital Tušpa (modern Van Kalesi). A summary inscription of the Assyrian king records the siege as follows:

44. Millard 1994: 43–​44, 59 (years 743–​740 BC); on the province of Arpad, see Radner 2008: 58, no. 46. 45. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 37: ll. 16–​45; no. 47: ll. 43–​44; on the province of Birtu, see Radner 2008: 56–​57, no. 40. 46. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 37. 47. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: ll. 25–​28.

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I confined him to the city Tušpa, his city, and inflicted a great defeat upon him before his city gates. I erected my royal image in front of the city of Tušpa.48 Although Tiglath-​ pileser caused a defeat to his foe, the Urartian capital—​perched on an inaccessible rock rising above the eastern shore of Lake Van—​could not be captured, and Sarduri remained in power. Despite failing to take Tušpa and end the life of his bitter rival, Tiglath-​ pileser was able to annex Urartian cities and fortresses into the existing provinces of the Assyrian Empire.49 This campaign effectively broke Sarduri’s regional power and deprived the smaller states in its sphere of influence of an alternative sovereign, making falling in line with Tiglath-​ pileser their only option. Whoever did not wish to submit to the fate of becoming an Assyrian client had to face the empire’s armies over the next decade. With Urartu out of the way, the Assyrian Empire was able to pursue an aggressive expansionist strategy and Tiglath-​pileser was able to push its borders far beyond where they had previously stood. When he died in late 727 bc,50 his son Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc) inherited a kingdom that was more than double the size of the one taken over by his father in 745 bc and that also included Babylonia, which had come under direct Assyrian control in 729 bc (­chapter 41 in this volume).

39.6. 717−716 bc: Sargon II meddles in the line of succession in Mannea For the brief time that Shalmaneser V held the crowns of Assyria and Babylonia, Urartu did not impede Assyrian interests. This changed when a violent transition of power took place in late 722 bc and Sargon II (721–​705 bc) seized the Assyrian throne amid widespread rebellions in the regions of the empire (­chapter 38 in this volume). Under Sarduri’s

48. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: ll. 23–​24. 49. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: ll. 30–​36; no. 49: ll. 14´–​23´. 50. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: 18: i 24–​28.

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successor Rusa, Urartu was able to reassert its influence in northwestern Iran, focusing its attention on destabilizing the Assyrian ally Mannea, then ruled by King Iranzu. The old rivalry between the Assyrian Empire and Urartu once again heated up. Our sixth key episode focuses on Sargon’s attempts to ensure that Mannea, after the death of its king Iranzu, would continue to remain in the hands of a loyal and reliable ally, rather than power passing on to a pro-​Urartian ruler. This is one of very many possible examples for the empire’s sustained efforts in manipulating the client states’ line of succession, and it has been chosen because this case is also well documented in letters from the Assyrian royal correspondence. Like his father Tiglath-​pileser III, Sargon II came to power by removing his royal brother from the throne in Kalhu.51 During this period of instability, various regions took the opportunity to cast off the yoke of the Assyrian Empire, or at least attempted to do so. Most importantly, Marduk-​apla-​iddina (biblical Merodach-​baladan), a Chaldean tribal leader, was declared king of Babylon, ridding Babylonia of Assyrian domination; in Hamath, one Ilu-​bi’di declared himself king and incited the provinces of Arpad, Ṣimirra, Damascus, and Samaria to rebellion; Hanno (Assyrian Hanunu), the ruler of Gaza, allied himself with Egypt (then under Kushite influence; see ­chapter 36 in this volume); and in northwestern Iran, Mitatti of Zikirtu betrayed his Mannean overlord Iranzu, a staunch Assyrian ally since the days of Tiglath-​pileser, and sought to claim power for himself.52 While Sargon was preoccupied elsewhere, Urartu was quick to reassert its political influence in northwestern Iran, mostly by winning over the loyalties of rulers who had previously been vassals of Mannea—​like Mitatti of Zikirtu. With his new allies, the rulers of Andia, Missi, Uišdiš, and Zikirtu, Rusa of Urartu was in a position to directly challenge Iranzu of Mannea, and indirectly challenge the Assyrian Empire. These events

51. For his inscriptions, see Frame 2021; for other sources, see Fuchs 2011a; 2011b: 1239–​1247 (no. 2). Recent monographs on his reign focusing on the military campaigns are Melville 2016; Elayi 2017. 52. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 18–​65; no. 7: ll. 23–​39.

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unfolded in the years between 719 and 714 bc, and escalated from the Urartian king stirring up trouble in Mannea to an all-​out war between Rusa and Sargon II (­chapters 43–​44 in this volume). We will focus on the year 717 bc, when the Assyrian king attempted to make sure that Mannea remained in the hands of a ruler that supported him. When Iranzu died that year, the Sargon and Rusa of Urartu made it a priority to ensure that whoever sat on the Mannean throne was loyal to their interests. The so-​called Great Display Inscription, which was engraved on stone slabs lining the walls of several rooms of Sargon’s palace in his newly founded capital city of Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad), records the transitions of power in Mannea thus: When fate carried off Iranzu of Mannea, a submissive subject who pulled my yoke, and I had seated his son Aza on his throne, Rusa of Urartu spoke treacherous and mendacious words to (the rulers of ) the lands of Uišdiš, Zikirtu, Missi, and Andia, and to the governors of the land Mannea, the important men, and they threw down the corpse of Aza, the son of their lord, on Mount Uauš, a rugged mountain. Ullusunu of Mannea, whom they had seated on the throne of his father (i.e., Iranzu), put his trust in Rusa of Urartu and gave him twenty-​two of his fortresses as a gift.53 Sargon and Rusa clearly had different candidates in mind as Iranzu’s replacement: the Assyrian king backed Aza, while the Urartian ruler endorsed Ullusunu. Why Sargon chose Aza is not recorded in his inscriptions, but presumably it was because he felt that this son of his former ally would loyally serve the Assyrian Empire’s interests, just like his father. Although this is not made explicit in the extant sources, Aza had likely been Iranzu’s choice as successor and would therefore have spent some formative years at the Assyrian royal court, as was the usual arrangement with the client rulers.54 Why Rusa backed Ullusunu is not 53. Frame 2021: no. 7: ll. 36–​39. 54. Zawadzki 1995.

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recorded either. We can speculate that this son of Iranzu had ambitions to become king of Mannea himself and that Rusa exploited Ullusunu’s desires by promising to help him secure the crown if, in turn, Ullusunu would support Urartian interests in Mannea once he held his father’s throne. With Assyrian backing, Aza took power in Mannea shortly after Iranzu died, but his reign was to be short-​lived. Rusa conspired with the regional leaders Bagdatti of Uišdiš, Mitatti of Zikirtu, Dayukku of Missi, and Telusina of Andia to rid Mannea of Assyrian influence, and these men threw their support and armies behind the prince Ullusunu. Aza caught wind of the plot only once Rusa and his supporters attacked. The new Mannean king met his opponents, including his brother and some newly declared supporters from neighboring Zagros polities (Ittî of Allabria and Aššur-​le’i of Karalla; figure 39.4), near Mount Uauš, where

Figure 39.4.  A letter addressed to Sargon II reporting on Ullusunu of Mannea and his ally Aššur-​le’i of Karalla. British Museum, Sm 935. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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he was killed in battle.55 With the support of his father Iranzu’s worst enemy, the kingdom of Urartu, Ullusunu had won the Mannean throne for himself, but at a steep cost. The price that Rusa demanded for his help consisted of twenty-​two Mannean fortresses in the border region between the two countries that were now added to Urartian territory.56 Sargon’s first attempt at controlling the succession in Mannea was a failure since his candidate was killed shortly after coming to power. In the following year, 716 bc, the Assyrian king sought vengeance for Aza’s death.57 The Assyrian troops entered Mannea and marched to the capital Izirtu, apparently without meeting any resistance since none of the men who had backed Ullusunu in his bid for the throne, including Rusa, had sent him troops. Without support, Ullusunu fled before Sargon arrived at Izirtu and observed the Assyrian invasion and the capture of Mannea’s key cities—​Izirtu, (I)zibia (perhaps modern Ziwiye), and Armaet/​ Armetta—​from the safety of a mountain refuge. Having now witnessed firsthand the military might of Sargon’s army, Ullusunu was ready to negotiate the terms of his surrender, an occasion that an inscription of Sargon describes as follows: Ullusunu of Mannea heard of the deeds I had been doing, flew to me like a bird, and grasped hold of my feet. I pardoned his innumerable sins and disregarded his crime. I had pity on him and had him sit on his royal throne.58 In a turn of events that demonstrates the empire’s overarching pragmatism when it came to exercising indirect power (and for which many other examples could be adduced), the Assyrian king not only left the fratricide Ullusunu alive, but also kept him on the throne of Mannea and accepted him as a client. Since someone still needed to be punished for

55. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 78–​85. 56. Frame 2021: no. 1: l. 101. 57. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 85–​90; no. 7: ll. 40–​53. 58. Frame 2021: no. 7: ll. 50–​51.

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Aza’s death, Ullusunu handed over Bagdatti of Uišdiš, one of his former supporters, to Sargon, who had him flayed alive at Mount Uauš, on the spot where Aza had been killed.59 The Assyrian king’s gamble of keeping Ullusunu as the king of Mannea paid off. Hitherto, Ullusunu stayed a loyal client of the Assyrian Empire, and in the years 715–​714 bc proved instrumental in Sargon’s efforts to bring an end to his open conflict with Urartu by assisting the Assyrian forces in resoundingly defeating Rusa and his allies60—​thereby ending the war that had been ignited when he had plotted to steal the Mannean throne from his brother after the death of his father. The relationship between the Assyrian Empire and the kingdom of Mannea remained stable and close for the duration of Sargon’s reign and well into the reign of his son and successor Sennacherib (­chapter 43 in this volume). Sargon attempted to influence or directly control who sat on the throne of several other lenient states. In Anatolia, he married his daughter Ahat-​abiša to Ambaris, the king of Bit-​Purutaš in Tabal, in an attempt to ensure his loyalty and to raise him above the other kings of Tabal. He made Tarhunazi of Melid ruler of Kammanu, instead of Gunzinanu (­chapter 46 in this volume). In the Philistine city Ashdod, he removed Azuri from the throne and replaced him with his brother Ahi-​Miti; and when Sargon’s longtime ally Dalta died in Ellipi in the Zagros Mountains, he aided his son Ašpabara in his bid for the throne.61 None of these appointments was ultimately successful. Ambaris allied himself with Rusa of Urartu and Mita of Muški (Midas of Phrygia; see ­chapter 45 in this volume), and also Tarhunazi joined Mita against Assyria; Ahi-​Miti was deposed by the citizens of Ashdod and replaced by Yamani; and Ellipi was annexed once Ašpabara (Ispabara) rebelled shortly after Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) became king of Assyria.62 Despite such failures, meddling 59. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 82–​83. 60. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 101–​104, 127–​165; no. 65. For discussions of Sargon’s well-​ documented campaign in 714 BC, see Marriott and Radner 2015; Fuchs 2018; Frame 2021: 273–​275. 61. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 194–​217; no. 2: ll. 273–​287, 455–​467. 62. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 2: ll. 27–​32.

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in other countries’ succession was enormously popular at the Assyrian royal court, and Sargon’s successors Sennacherib, Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc), and Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc) also continued the practice, with varying degrees of success.

39.7. 701 bc: Sennacherib goes to war in the Levant In 705 bc, Sargon was killed in battle fighting Gurdî the Kulummean in Anatolia, and his body was never recovered.63 The crown prince Sennacherib ascended the throne just as his father had intended,64 and immediately moved the seat of power to Nineveh and began transforming it into the empire’s capital (­chapter 38 in this volume). Despite the easy transmission of power, Sargon’s unexpected and inauspicious death still shook the very foundations of the empire. Various client rulers took advantage of the situation. The Chaldean leader Marduk-​apla-​iddina seized the crown of Babylon yet again, with support from Chaldean, Aramean, and Elamite allies. Support for the Assyrian Empire waned, especially in the southwest where Egypt had again become an important regional power under the rule of the Kushite kings (­chapter 36 in this volume). While Sennacherib (704−681 bc) was occupied with Babylonia, various local rulers cut off their ties to Assyria and aligned themselves with Egypt. Kings including Hezekiah of Judah (­chapter 48 in this volume) and the Phoenician rulers Lulî of Sidon, Abdi-​L i’ti of Arwad, and Uri-​milk (Assyrian Uru-​milki) of Byblos (­chapter 47 in this volume) withheld their annual tribute payments, and in other polities, rulers were

63. Millard 1994: 60 (year 705 bc). The Assyrians were not able to recover Sargon’s body and this was regarded as inauspicious; see Frahm 1999; Kertai 2021: 220–​ 221, and c­ hapter 38 in this volume. 64. For his inscriptions, see Grayson and Novotny 2012; 2014; for other sources, see Frahm 2002; 2011. For a recent monograph focusing on his military campaigns, see Elayi 2018.

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replaced locally with individuals whose political agenda was not in line with the empire.65 A new anti-​Assyrian alliance came together under the leadership of Lulî of Sidon, Ṣidqa of Ashkelon, and Hezekiah of Judah, with the support of Kushite-​controlled Egypt. When Padî of Ekron (modern Tel Miqne) failed to give in to the pressure exerted by his neighbors and even the people of his own city and remained loyal to the Assyrian Empire,66 his decision cost him his throne—​at least temporarily. The people of Ekron threw him into iron fetters and delivered him to Hezekiah of Judah in his capital Jerusalem.67 The deposition of this loyal client ruler may have been the final straw that made Sennacherib muster his troops and march westward. In 701 bc, the Assyrian king set out with his army to put the Assyrian interests in the Levant back in order. Numerous annalistic texts written between 700 bc and 689 bc describe the events of the king’s “third campaign.”68 According to these accounts, Sennacherib’s forces encountered no resistance as he marched south along the Mediterranean coast from Kullania (Kunulua) on the Orontes estuary to Samaria, the former capital of the kingdom of Israel. The first of the leaders of the alliance, Lulî of Sidon, fled to the sea before the Assyrian troops arrived. When Sennacherib reached Sidon, the leaderless people immediately surrendered and swore their fealty to the Assyrian Empire once again. The Assyrian king then installed Itho-​ Ba‘al (Tu-​Ba‘lu) as king of Sidon and reimposed the annual tribute upon him, along with a hefty back payment for the three years that Sidon had withheld its financial obligations. As Sennacherib’s army marched through the Levant, rulers who had before sided with Lulî and Hezekiah sought the Assyrian king’s forgiveness, reaffirmed their oaths as his clients, and paid four years of tribute without putting up a fight. However,

65. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 1: ll. 5–​62; no. 4: ll. 5–​58. 66. Since Sennacherib states that Padî was “bound by treaty and oaths to Assyria,” he had likely become king of Ekron during Sargon’s reign. 67. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: ll. 42. 68. E.g., Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: ll. 32–​58; no. 22: ii 37–​iii 49.

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this changed once Sennacherib’s forces proceeded south of Samaria and marched toward Ashkelon to deal with Ṣidqa, the second leader of the alliance. With the support of Egyptian archers and chariotry, the anti-​ Assyrian coalition forces met Sennacherib’s troops head on at the Battle of Eltekeh (modern Tell ash-​Shallaf ). The inscription of the so-​called Rassam Cylinder, a text composed in 700 bc, one year after these events, recounts the battle: In the plain of the city of Eltekeh, they sharpened their weapons while drawing up in a battle line before me. With the support of the god Aššur, my lord, I fought with them and defeated them. In the thick of battle, I captured alive the Egyptian charioteers and princes, together with the charioteers of the king of the land of Meluhha (i.e., Kush). I surrounded, conquered, and plundered the cities of Eltekeh and Tamnâ. I approached the city of Ekron and I killed the governors and nobles who had committed crimes and hung their corpses on towers around the city; I counted the citizens who had committed the criminal acts as booty; and I commanded that the rest of them, those who were not guilty of crimes or wrongdoing, to whom no penalty was due, be allowed to go free.69 Although Sennacherib’s victory at Eltekeh may well not have been as decisive as he claimed, the Assyrian king certainly managed to put an end to the strong resistance to the empire in Philistia. This was achieved in part by capturing Ṣidqa and installing Šarru-​lu-​dari in his stead on the throne. Šarru-​lu-​dari was a son of Rukibtu, a former ruler of Ashkelon who had strong ties with Assyria. Sennacherib also removed the most vocal proponents of anti-​Assyrian opposition in neighboring Ekron. Next, the Assyrian king turned his attention to the Levantine coalition’s remaining leader, Hezekiah of Judah. Sennacherib’s army marched east, laid siege to Jerusalem, and attacked numerous Judean settlements, including Lachish (figure 39.5), while Hezekiah was confined to 69. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: ll. 44–​47.

Figure 39.5.  Detail of the wall decoration of Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace at Nineveh, depicting the Assyrian siege of the city of Lachish in Judah. British Museum, BM 11890© The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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his capital “like a bird in a cage.”70 Although Sennacherib did not take Jerusalem, he was able to successfully negotiate terms with the Judean king, who from the safety of his well-​fortified city had heard about the destruction wrought throughout his country; Assyrian inscriptions record that forty-​six settlements were captured. In exchange for Sennacherib lifting the siege and for being permitted to stay in power, Hezekiah agreed to release his captive Padî of Ekron immediately; to cede territory to the Philistine cities of Ashdod, Ekron, and Gaza; and to pay a massive amount of tribute, including what he already owed for the past three years.71 After departing from Jerusalem, Sennacherib reinstated his loyal ally Padî as ruler of Ekron (now with further territories added that had formerly been part of Judah) and reimposed upon him his oaths and obligations as an Assyrian client. Sennacherib’s military efforts in the Levant paid off, not just while he was king, but also while his successors Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal ruled over the Assyrian Empire. By replacing anti-​Assyrian rulers with men who would be loyal to the Assyrian crown, or by cowing others through a show of force and then showing leniency and mercy in renewing their client relationship with the empire through new oaths and treaties (Assyrian adê), and by redrawing the political boundaries in the region, mainly by reducing the holdings of the larger dissident polities and transferring their territories to the smaller states, or by simply breaking them up into separate political units, Sennacherib was able to bring the entire southern Levant from Arwad in the north to Gaza in the south back into the fold of the Assyrian Empire, thus ushering in a long period of relative stability in the region. Very importantly, with our seventh key episode, the spread of Kushite influence was brought to a halt in the southern Levant, and the local polities were again without an alternative to the Assyrian Empire. As far as textual sources are preserved, the imperial army did not need

70. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: ll. 49–​58. The siege of Jerusalem is also reported in the Bible; see the contributions in Kalimi and Richardson (eds.) 2014. 71. Hezekiah sent this payment to Nineveh after the Assyrian king had returned home: Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: l. 58.

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to be dispatched to the region for the remainder of Sennacherib’s reign, clearly a sign that the Assyrian king and the local rulers whom he had (re)confirmed as his clients had come to an accord that broadly suited them. The agreements made with the rulers of Arwad, Byblos, Samsimuruna, Ashdod, Ashkelon, Gaza, Ekron, Judah, Ammon, Moab, and Edom endured long beyond Sennacherib’s lifetime, many at least until the first half of the reign of his grandson Ashurbanipal (668−631 bc).72 Not only did kings of the Levantine polities henceforth pay their annual contributions, they also provided the Assyrian Empire with building materials for the construction of palaces and temples, as well as with troops and equipment for military campaigns. Thus, Esarhaddon’s inscriptions record that “twelve kings from the shore of the sea”—​the rulers of all of the aforementioned countries, as well as Tyre—​had timber and stone transported to the Assyrian heartland for the construction of a wing of the armory at Nineveh that he was having built.73 Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions additionally state that rulers from those same countries provided him with troops and boats to conquer Egypt (­chapter 35 in this volume).74

39.8. 672 bc: Esarhaddon publicizes his succession arrangements In late 681 bc, Sennacherib was murdered and a succession war broke out, with several of his sons vying for control over the empire (­chapter 38 in this volume). Esarhaddon, who was Sennacherib’s chosen successor at

72. Sidon and Tyre were an exception. The agreement with Sidon came to an end in 677 bc when the kingdom was conquered and integrated into the Assyrian Empire; see Leichty 2011: no. 1: ii 65–​iii 19; Radner 2008: 63, no. 65. Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal both had trouble with Ba‘alu of Tyre; see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 38–​62. See ­chapter 47 in this volume. 73. Leichty 2011: no. 1: v 54–​v 1. In addition, ten kings from Cyprus provided resources. 74. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 6: ii 25´–​55´.

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the time of his death, managed to chase off the other pretenders to the monarchy and ascended the Assyrian throne.75 Given the turbulent circumstances surrounding his own rise to the throne, Esarhaddon clearly felt that his father Sennacherib had not done enough to ensure a smooth transition of power. As his own ascent to the throne had been undisputed, Sennacherib may not have publicized his nomination of Esarhaddon as crown prince widely enough, announcing this arrangement only in an assembly consisting of members of the royal family and prominent Assyrians of the heartland.76 Given the tone of the language and the content of the later succession treaty of Esarhaddon, his successor was very much of the opinion that Sennacherib failed to sufficiently bind all members of the royal family and the court, the imperial officials running the state administration in the empire’s center and in the provinces, and all client rulers with sacred oaths to honor and protect this arrangement. Moreover, he seems to have felt that Sennacherib should have made the harsh consequences of not ensuring that Esarhaddon would become king after his death abundantly clear to all these people. Having lived through the resultant bloody transfer of power, Esarhaddon took measures that he deemed necessary for ensuring a smooth succession. This took the shape of organizing an enormous gathering of dignitaries, the likes of which had not been seen since Ashurnasirpal II celebrated his move from Assur to Kalhu (section 39.2). This event is our eighth key episode. Although the matter of the succession might have been weighing on Esarhaddon’s mind as early as his coronation in 680 bc, the immediate circumstances that prompted the king, in early 672 bc, to nominate his eldest living son Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin to be the heir designate of Babylon and his fourth-​eldest son Ashurbanipal to be the heir designate of Assyria in an extremely public manner are not entirely clear, as this information

75. For his inscriptions, see Frame 1995: B.6.31.1–​1001; Leichty 2011; for the other sources, see Porter and Radner 1998: 146–​152, no. 7. 76. Leichty 2011: no. 1: i 10–​16.

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is not recorded in extant sources.77 It is possible that Sin-​nadin-​apli, the king’s eldest son whose nomination as crown prince had been confirmed by extispicy in 677 bc,78 may have died, or at least fallen out of favor, and that therefore a new appointment needed to be made. Esarhaddon appears to have begun the planning process in late 674 bc or in early 673 bc. This is evident from the fact that he now had his own version of his rise to power inserted in his royal inscriptions.79 Moreover, he invaded and conquered Šubria, a small state on the upper reaches of the Tigris in the border region between Assyria and Urartu, when its ruler Ik-​Teššub refused to extradite some Assyrian fugitives.80 Some of these fugitives may have been members of the royal family who would have been in a position to contest Esarhaddon’s choice of successors, especially after his death. The Šubrian ruler was executed for his failure to comply,81 and his kingdom was annexed and carved into two Assyrian provinces.82 By the end of 673 bc, Esarhaddon was in a position to publicly announce his succession plans. Using the vast and efficient communication network at his disposal,83 the king sent invitations to every province of the empire and to every single one of his client rulers. For those who were invited, attendance was mandatory at the ceremonies scheduled in the second month of Esarhaddon’s ninth regnal year, shortly after the god Aššur reconfirmed Esarhaddon as his early representative during the New Year’s festival of 672 bc at Assur.

77. For Esarhaddon’s children, see Radner, Ruby, and Weissert 1998: 160–​163 §I; Novotny and Singletary 2009. 78. Starr 1990: no. 149; see Weissert 2002 for details. 79. The earliest copies of this inscription (Nineveh A; Leichty 2011: no. 1) date to the fourth month of 673 bc. 80. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 1: iv 19–​20; Chronicle 14: 24´–​25´; Leichty 2011: no. 33. 81. Leichty 2011: no. 60: ll. 6´–​7´. 82. Radner 2008: 63–​64 (no. 64: Kullimeri, and no. 66: Uppumu). 83. Radner 2014.

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Although none of the handful of surviving exemplars of Esarhaddon’s succession treaty, which were discovered at Assur, Kalhu, and Kullania,84 records details about the huge gathering that was held on the occasion of the official nomination of his two sons as the heirs of the thrones of Assyria and Babylon, several later inscriptions of Ashurbanipal contain descriptions.85 On the so-​called Rassam Prism, the multi-​day event is mentioned as follows: Esarhaddon, king of Assyria, the father who had engendered me, carefully observed the word of the god Aššur and the goddess Mullissu, the gods who supported him and who instructed him about my exercising the kingship. In the month Ayyaru (II), the month of the god Ea, the lord of humankind, on the twelfth day, an auspicious day, (the day of ) the bread donations to the goddess Gula,86 in order to perform the noble command of the deities Aššur, Mullissu, Sin, Šamaš, Adad, Bel (i.e., Marduk), Nabû, Ištar of Nineveh, Šarrat-​Kidmuri, Ištar of Arbela, Ninurta, Nergal, and Nusku, he assembled the people of Assyria, small and great, and of the Upper and Lower Seas. In order to protect my (position as) heir designate and afterwards (my) exercising the kingship of Assyria, he made them swear to a treaty, an oath bound by the gods; he made the agreements strong.87 Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions do not record the number of guests who attended the ceremony, nor do they identify the client rulers in attendance. Moreover, the texts do not state where the oath-​swearing ceremony was held, nor do they provide information about the duration

84. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 6; Lauinger 2012. Recent studies include Fales 2012; Lauinger 2013; 2015; Watanabe 2014; Radner 2019. 85. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9: i 6–​23, no. 11: i 8–​30; Jeffers and Novotny 2023: no. 220: i 29´–​ii 6´. 86. Copies of the inscription edited as Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9 record the date as “the eighteenth day”; see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 192 (note to i 10). 87. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: i 8–​22; also no. 9: i 6–​16.

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of this extraordinary event. Although one might suspect that the city of Assur and the temple of Aššur played a significant role, as the god’s seals were needed to authorize the treaty documents (see below), we can nevertheless safely assume that Nineveh, the empire’s capital, was the location of the ceremony. This is because Ashurbanipal’s own inscriptions state that he entered the “House of Succession” (bīt ridûti), which was located there, during the joyous ceremonies held on the occasion of his promotion to heir designate of Assyria.88 From the dates inscribed on the preserved exemplars of the treaties, from the dates of a few of Esarhaddon’s inscriptions, and from Ashurbanipal’s own description of his nomination, it is certain that the ceremonies took place over the course of at least seven days, from the 12th to the 18th day of the month Ayyaru.89 The inscription of the Rassam Prism describes the attendees summarily as “the people of Assyria, small and great, and of the Upper and Lower Seas.” Furthermore, from the preamble (§1) of the exemplars of Esarhaddon’s succession treaty found at Kalhu and Kullania it is clear that the members of the royal family and of the imperial administration, including magnates and provincial governors, as well as the rulers of client states, and anyone related or subservient to these people, were bound by oaths sworn to a host of gods and goddesses to ensure that Ashurbanipal and Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin became kings of Assyria and Babylon, respectively, when Esarhaddon died. We can therefore assume that the people congregating in 672 bc were brought together to fully represent “the people of Assyria, small and great, and of the Upper and Lower Seas.” Given the extent of the Assyrian Empire, more than seventy provincial governors and the rulers of at least thirty-​nine client states (and very likely very many more, as the Kalhu exemplars were mostly written for heads of state of small, otherwise unknown principalities in the Zagros, indicating that Esarhaddon strove to include even the most obscure and

88. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: 23–​30; also no. 9: i 16–​23. 89. Cf. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 6: l. 664; Leichty 2011: no. 77: ll. 63–​64; no. 93: l. 40; Lauinger 2012: 112; Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9: i 10, no. 11: i 12.

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remote of his clients90) came before the Assyrian king and his two successors and swore their oaths.91 This mass assembly therefore brought people from every corner of the Assyrian Empire to the very heart of the kingdom at the same time, dwarfing the host of guests brought together by Ashurnasirpal II two centuries earlier in the then-​capital Kalhu. Those attendees who stood in for entire communities, namely the provincial governors and the client rulers who also represented all the people in their care, were each given a large clay tablet inscribed with their individualized oaths of loyalty. The tablets were sealed with the three sacred cylinder seals of the god Aššur (figure 39.6), which further bound the oath-​taker to the treaty.92 This meant that, at the very least, 110 tablets with the text of the succession treaty had to be produced by an army of qualified scribes. Some exemplars may have been written out in advance, while others may have been inscribed during the in-​person events.93 It likely took a month of intensive scribal production to produce all of the copies of the treaties, each of which needed to be sealed with the sacred seals of Aššur. With the exception of the exemplars from Kalhu, which seemingly were never claimed by their intended recipients (who therefore appear to have failed to show up for the ceremony), these tablets were ceremoniously handed over to the oath-​takers to be taken back to their homes and displayed there publicly for the benefit of their people. For the remainder of his life, from 672 to 669 bc, Esarhaddon did much to actively promote his two heirs to the populace throughout the empire, especially in the provincial capitals. He had Ashurbanipal and Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin depicted on royal steles erected in Sam’al and Til Barsip, set up their statues in the temple of the moon-​god Sin at Harran,

90. Therefore, Fales 2012: 148 suggested a total number of 220 Assyrian magnates and client rulers. 91. Lauinger 2015: 289–​290; Radner 2019: 313–​314. 92. Lauinger 2015; Radner 2019: 314–​319. 93. Lauinger 2015: 290–​292. Several Neo-​Assyrian letters (Parpola 1993: nos. 5–​7) suggest that copies of the treaty were already being prepared in the month of Nisannu (i.e., the first month).

Figure 39.6.  Detail of an exemplar of the Esarhaddon Succession Treaty from Kalhu (modern Nimrud) showing the three seals of the Assyrian principal god Aššur impressed into the clay tablet. British Museum, BM 132548. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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and had an image of Ashurbanipal included on the metal casing of the god Aššur’s dais at his temple in Assur.94 When Esarhaddon died unexpectedly on the way to a military campaign to Egypt, his succession unfolded in the way that he had planned it—​thanks also to his mother Naqi’a/​Zakutu, who personally oversaw the transition of power in Assyria on behalf of her grandson Ashurbanipal.95

39.9.  652–​648 bc: Ashurbanipal fights his brother for control over Babylonia Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc) ascended the throne of Assyria in late 669 bc.96 At the beginning of the following year, 668 bc, he went to Babylon with his brother Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin and had him installed there as king of Babylon, in accordance with Esarhaddon’s wishes; at the same time, he returned the statue of the god Marduk from Assur, where it had been taken by force under Sennacherib and later repaired at Esarhaddon’s order, to its rightful place in the newly restored Esagil temple.97 Even though Šamaš-​ šumu-​ ukin was the king of Babylon, Ashurbanipal regularly sponsored building projects in his brother’s capital city and throughout his realm, thus acting very publicly as his overlord. It was Ashurbanipal, and not his brother, who took credit for completing the restoration of Babylon and its principal temples, including Esagil and its ziggurat Etemenanki.98 Ashurbanipal’s interference in

94. Parpola 1993: no. 13; Leichty 2011: nos. 60 (ll. 26´–​29´), 97–​98. 95. As evidenced by a separate treaty that she had drawn up when Ashurbanipal ascended the throne in late 669 bc: Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 8. On Naqi’a, see Melville 1999. 96. For his inscriptions, see Frame 1995: B.6.32.1–​2016; Novotny and Jeffers 2018; Jeffers and Novotny 2023; Novotny et al. 2023; for other sources, see Radner et al. 1998. 97. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 18: ll. 35´–​37´; Jeffers and Novotny 2023: no. 220: ii 26´–​iii 30´. 98. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 15: ll. 4–​5; Frame 1995: B.6.32.1–​23, especially nos. 1–​11; Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 10: i 21–​54.

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the internal political and religious affairs of Babylonia was constant and gradually caused a rift between the two brothers. After fifteen years of tolerating the incessant meddling, Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin finally had enough and began to secretly plot against his brother. As king of Babylon, he not only incited the people from all across Babylonia against the Assyrian Empire, but also forged an alliance with a number of other rulers who had a strong distrust of Ashurbanipal, as the latter’s inscription on the Rassam Prism narrates: Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin, the unfaithful brother who did not honor my treaty, incited the people of Akkad, Chaldea and Aram and the Sealand, from the city of Aqaba to the city of Bab-​salimeti, servants who belonged to me, to rebel against me. Moreover, (as for) Ummanigaš (i.e., Huban-​nikaš II), a fugitive who had grasped the feet of my royal majesty and whom I had installed as king in the land of Elam, as well as the kings of Gutium (i.e., the Zagros Mountains), Amurru (i.e., the southern Levant) and Meluhha (i.e., Kush), whom I had installed (as rulers) by the command of the god Aššur and the goddess Mullissu, he (i.e., Šamaš-​šumu-​ ukin) made all of them become hostile towards me and they sided with him. He locked the gates of Sippar, Babylon, and Borsippa and broke off brotherly relations. On the walls of those cities, he posted his fighting men and they were constantly doing battle with me.99 By the time Ashurbanipal discovered Šamaš-​ šumu-​ ukin’s treachery, it was too late to seek reconciliation. In late 652 bc, he dispatched his Assyrian forces southward and open war broke out in Babylonia.100 Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin’s rebellion lasted nearly four years, from late 652 bc until sometime after mid-​648 bc. During the first two years, battles

99. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: iii 96–​111. 100. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 6: vii 48´–​ix 52´´; no. 7: vii 36–​ix 9; no. 11: iii 70–​ iv 109. On the war, see Frame 1992: 131–​190; Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 22–​23 (with references).

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were fought all over Babylonia, from cities in the north to the Sealand in the south, but the situation was not decided and key cities changed hands repeatedly as some victories went to the Assyrian forces (which enjoyed substantial support in some areas, where Ashurbanipal’s longtime engagement was favorably remembered), while other battles were won by Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin and his allies. It proved difficult for both sides to keep track of their allies and enemies, especially as some of the major players secretly changed sides, craftily relaying carefully guarded state secrets to the enemy. Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin enjoyed significant military support from powerful allies, notably the Elamite kings Ummanigaš (Huban-​nikaš II) and Tammaritu (both of whom Ashurbanipal had installed as kings of Elam; see c­ hapter 42 in this volume), the Arab leader Abi-​Yate’ (­chapter 52 in volume 5), and Nabû-​bel-​šumati, the governor of the Sealand (who turned out to be notoriously unreliable and treacherous101). Nevertheless, the tide turned against the king of Babylon early in 650 bc. In a radical departure from the previous norms of Assyrian kingship, Ashurbanipal did not personally get involved in the fighting, but the successes of his capable military commander Bel-​ibni enabled him to take control of southern Babylonia and to gain significant ground in northern Babylonia by cutting off the major urban centers’ access to food, water, and military aid.102 By mid-​650 bc, the Assyrian forces laid siege to Babylon, as well as to Borsippa, Cutha, and Sippar. For two long years, the people of northern Babylonia endured the Assyrian blockade while suffering horribly from famine and diseases.103 Documents from Babylon dated during the siege104 lend support to the grim descriptions in Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions of the ensuing misery, despair, and death: 101. On Nabû-​bel-​umati and his double crossing, see Ito 2018. 102. The correspondence of Bel-​ibni provides some insight into the events of the war; see de Vaan 1995. 103. Some people are said to have resorted to cannibalism to survive: Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 6: ix 1´–​20´, no. 11: iv 41–​45. 104. For details on the “siege documents,” see Frame 1992: 150 (n. 81), 153; 1999.

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Instead of beer, they drank the blood of their daughters. From lack of food, their limbs stopped working and withered away; they became like corpses. The faces of the people darkened as if by smoke with depression and mourning. . . . Plague, pestilence, illness, and the chills reduced the people of Akkad, all of them. . . . The corpses of people were obstructing the streets and alleys; they were blocking gateways. Silence lay over the city and its ruler; a deathly hush had been poured out.105 The siege of Babylon ended with the death of Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin, whereupon the entire rebellion collapsed. Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions state that the gods threw the king of Babylon into a raging conflagration,106 but it is uncertain whether Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin took his own life or was murdered. Sometime after mid-​648 bc, the cities of Babylon and Borsippa voluntarily opened their gates to the Assyrian forces and handed over Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin’s supporters, who were severely punished either on the spot or in the Assyrian capital Nineveh.107 The insignia of the king of Babylon, namely his crown, scepter, and seal, were taken to Assyria as spoils of war (figure 39.7).108 Once Babylonia was firmly back in Assyrian control, Ashurbanipal had new officials appointed, including a new king of Babylon in the form of the shadowy Kandalanu, about whom next to nothing is known.109 Although Ashurbanipal had been victorious, the strength of the Assyrian Empire was clearly waning, and the defection of the king’s own brother had left its reputation in tatters.

105. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 7: viii 20´–​50´; no. 8: viii 15‴–​12‴′. 106. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 7: ix 55´–​61´; no. 11: iv 46–​52. 107. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 7: viii 75´–​79´; no. 11: iv 70–​76. The rebels taken back to the Assyrian central region may have been executed on the very spot where Sennacherib had been murdered; see Grayson and Novotny 2014: 28–​29. 108. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 38; see Novotny and Watanabe 2008. 109. On Kandalanu, see Frame 1992: 191–​213, 296–​306.

Figure 39.7.  Detail of the wall decoration of Ashurbanipal’s throne room in the North Palace at Nineveh, showing the king of Babylon’s crown, scepter, and seal being taken by the Assyrians as spoils of war after the fall of Babylon and the death of Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin. British Museum, BM 124945. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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In 647–​644 bc, Ashurbanipal went to war against those who had aided his traitorous brother, most importantly against Elam, whose king Ummanaldaš (Huban-​haltaš III) was harboring the notorious Nabû-​bel-​ šumati of the Sealand, and against the Arab leaders Abi-​Yate’ and Uaite’. Ultimately, rather than restoring the reputation of the Assyrian Empire, these punitive campaigns made matters only worse, especially after Ashurbanipal’s army committed the sacrilege of destroying the Elamite religious center of Susa.110 When Ashurbanipal died after almost four decades on the throne in early 631 bc,111 the well-​oiled machine that was the Assyrian Empire had visibly started to rust, and if its collapse was not yet written on the wall, it was at least imaginable—​something that would have been entirely unthinkable in the age of Esarhaddon. Although Ashurbanipal had profited from the closely managed transition of power that his father had put into place, he does not seem to have followed his example, and the political responsibilities at the heart of the empire were muddled in the period after his demise, when his young son Aššur-​etel-​ilani (630–​627 bc)112 was only able to secure the throne with the assistance of the chief eunuch Sin-​šumu-​lešir, plunging the country into chaos (­chapter 38 in this volume).

39.10. 612 bc: The fall of Nineveh Ashurbanipal’s poorly managed succession directly led to the loss of Babylonia. Another of his sons, Sin-​šarru-​iškun (626–​612 bc),113 was eventually able to get rid of Sin-​šumu-​lešir and claim the Assyrian throne

110. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: iv 10–​x 39. 111. Fuchs 2014: 25–​28, 35; Frahm 2017a: 191; Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 1 n. 5 (with references). 112. For his inscriptions, see Frame 1995: B.6.35.1–​5; Novotny et al. 2023; for other sources, see Brinkman 1998. 113. For his inscriptions, see Frame 1995: B.6.37; Novotny et al. 2023; for other sources, see Novotny 2002b; Schaudig 2011.

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for himself, thus restoring order to the Assyrian heartland. However, at the same time, the commoner Nabopolassar (625–​605 bc) secured Babylonia and the kingship of Babylon for himself, thus founding what would become the Neo-​Babylonian Empire (­chapter 50 in volume 5). After a century as an Assyrian client state (and frequently under the direct rule of the Assyrian kings), the southern region was now quick to assert its independence in the strongest possible way, as Nabopolassar launched a direct attack on the former overlord. Sin-​šarru-​iškun was unable to prevent or counter these attacks, likely because the state administration and the army were still severely weakened from the chaotic years after Ashurnbanipal’s death. Our tenth and final key episode is therefore the Babylonian invasions leading to the collapse of the Assyrian Empire. The most important source is the so-​called Fall of Nineveh Chronicle, a Babylonian chronicle text that provides the chronological framework for the empire’s final years (figure 39.8).114 Nabopolassar’s first attack in 616 bc targeted the Assyrian provinces Suhu and Hindanu in the middle Euphrates region, and when this was successful, he steered his troops toward the enormously rich Assyrian heartland, reaching Arraphe (modern Kirkuk) in that same year. The conflict quickly turned into what one might term a world war, as troops from Mannea joined the fray from northwestern Iran and Egyptian forces crossed the Euphrates for the first time since the New Kingdom pharaoh Thutmose III had done so in 1550 bc (­chapter 28 in volume 3), both in order to offer assistance to the clearly crippled Assyrian Empire. The success of the Babylonian invasion also attracted others, and the Medes, led by Cyaxares, arrived on the scene in 615 bc (­chapter 43 in this volume). From then on, both the Babylonian and Median forces concentrated on targeting the Assyrian heartland. Only once the Medes had captured the cult center of Assur, in 614 bc, did Nabopolassar and Cyaxares enter a formal alliance there.115 The unexpected union must have dampened any remaining hopes that the

114. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 3. 115. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 3: l. 29.

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Figure 39.8. Obverse (left) and reverse (right) of the so-​called Fall of Nineveh Chronicle. British Museum, BM 21901. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

invasions would end with the plunder of Assur and its riches. Sin-​šarru-​ iškun took what measures that he could to fortify Nineveh, principally by reinforcing the city’s eighteen gates and narrowing their central corridors with large blocks of stone.116 This proved in vain, and in 612 bc, Nineveh fell to the joint forces of the Babylonians and the Medes, and Sin-​šarru-​iškun died defending his capital city, conforming at least to the traditional expectations that an Assyrian king should be a mighty

116. For the evidence from the excavation of the gates, see Stronach 1997; Pickworth 2005.

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warrior, which his father Ashurbanipal had so abhorred (section 39.9). Even with the recent improvements, Nineveh’s fortifications were not sufficient to prevent the attackers from breaching its defenses, and the city was looted and destroyed. The invasions and the fighting continued, and eventually the Assyrian Empire was gone (­chapter 38 in this volume), but not forgotten (section 39.12). Our final key episode highlighted that the Assyrian Empire could indeed draw on the support of its allies when under duress. In addition to the support received from Mannea (­chapter 43 in this volume), the Egyptian forces led by Psamtek I (664–​610 bc) and later Nekau II (610–​595) of the Twenty-​sixth Dynasty (­chapter 49 in volume 5) fought on the empire’s side from 616 bc onward, and continued to oppose the Babylonian expansion westward long after the empire had fallen. This episode also demonstrates how drastically the world had shrunk, especially in the course of the late eighth and seventh centuries, as polities from Kush, which had its central region in modern Sudan, to the Caspian Sea now routinely interacted with each other.

39.11. The world’s influence on the Assyrian Empire During the ninth to seventh centuries bc, the Assyrian Empire became increasingly more multicultural, and thus it comes as no surprise that its own culture and society were influenced by the cultures, languages, art, and architecture of its contemporaries (also c­ hapter 40 in this volume). Especially from the second half of the eighth century bc onward, the Assyrian Empire was a highly multilingual environment, and various Semitic languages (namely, Akkadian, Aramaic, Phoenician, Hebrew, and Arabic) and non-​Semitic languages (including Egyptian, Luwian, Šubrian, Urartian, Mannean, Median, and Elamite) were spoken in its regions.117

117. Radner 2021: 148 fig. 9.1.

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Nevertheless, Akkadian remained the primary written and spoken language used by the imperial administration.118 Aramaic, a West-​ Semitic language written in an alphabetic script, also played a key role in the daily running of the empire, and it can be regarded as the empire’s third vernacular language besides the two Akkadian dialects Assyrian and Babylonian.119 That language’s increased use over the course of three centuries was the direct result of the regular integration of Aramaic-​ speaking political entities into the empire and is in evidence already in the late ninth century bc during the reign of Shalmaneser III, when Akkadian and Aramaic (figure 39.9) were used in tandem, in both written and spoken communication. Moreover, through Assyria’s long history of contacts with Babylonia in the south, Neo-​Assyrian kings began writing their inscriptions in Standard Babylonian, a literary lect of the Akkadian language that had been used since ca. 1500 bc to write highly specialized scholarly texts, as well as works of poetry and literature.120 A few kings, notably Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal, had inscriptions written in the Babylonian cuneiform script or even composed in Sumerian, the traditional language of religion and learning.121 The empire’s close contacts with the post-​Hittite states in modern-​ day northern Syria and southeastern Turkey led to the incorporation of typical local building features into the architecture of the Assyrian imperial residences. Exercising direct control over Babylon in the eighth and seventh centuries inspired modeling Sargon II’s capital Dur-​Šarrukin, as well as the temple and cult of Assyria’s principal god Aššur at Assur, on the city of Babylon and its sanctuaries. In the following sections, we will discuss these influences on Assyrian royal architecture and city planning, which deeply shaped the empire’s political and religious fabric. On the one hand, these examples highlight the Assyrian Empire’s openness to

118. Fales 2021; Radner 2021. 119. Radner 2021: 150. 120. Radner 2021: 150. 121. Frame 1995: B.6.32.1–​23; Leichty 2011: nos. 104–​139; Frame 2021: nos. 53, 70, 124–​128.

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Figure 39.9.  Detail of the wall decoration of Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace at Nineveh, showing two scribes, one writing in Akkadian cuneiform script and one writing in the Aramaic alphabet. British Museum, BM 24955. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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the outside world, as apparent from many other aspects of its social and cultural history (­chapter 40 in this chapter; especially for the relationship with Egypt). On the other hand, these specific examples illustrate that the Assyrian kings were always quick to embrace architecture that would help them to assert their claim to rule not just Assyria but the world at large.

39.11.1.  Western influences on Assyrian palace architecture When Ashurnasirpal II constructed his new royal residence at Kalhu, the so-​called Northwest Palace, he intended to make it a wonder to behold. He had pairs of monumental, human-​headed winged bulls and lions (lamassu) stationed on either side of its principal entrances; the palace’s inner walls were lined with large limestone orthostats that were carved in low relief and then painted with vivid colors (white, red, blue, and black), while ornate glazed-​brick friezes decorated the upper parts of the walls.122 The Northwest Palace’s decorative program, with the monumental gate guardian statues and the orthostat-​lined rooms, became the prototype for all successive Assyrian royal residences,123 and its design is today considered as a formative moment for Assyrian imperial art. About two centuries earlier, Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc) had rebuilt the so-​called Old Palace at Assur on a grand scale and updated its design by stationing pairs of monumental statues (including human-​ faced bulls) in its gateways, and by lining its interior walls with orthostats of various stones (­chapter 37 in this volume).124 This building certainly provided a template for the new palace at Kalhu, but the inspiration for the details of Ashurnasirpal’s decoration scheme appears to have come also from contemporary models: the palaces that he had visited in the 122. Meuszyński 1981; Paley and Sobolewski 1987; 1992; Russell 1998. 123. These are the Central and Southwest Palaces at Kalhu, the royal residence at Dur-​Šarrukin, and the Southwest and North Palaces at Nineveh; see Russell 1999; Kertai 2015. 124. Lundström and Orlamünde 2011; Kertai 2015: 14–​15.

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post-​Hittite states during his campaign to the Mediterranean Sea, especially the royal palace of Sangara of Carchemish (­chapter 46 in this volume).125 Inspired by what he had seen, Ashurnasirpal had his architects adapt these architectural features for the design of the Northwest Palace. Significantly departing from earlier Assyrian royal residences, the new imperial archetype was the first palace constructed in what later Assyrian kings would describe as “the style of the land Hatti.”126 However, unlike in the western tradition where the decorative stone elements adorned the outer façades of buildings, Ashurnasirpal had the sculptures decorate the lower walls of the inner rooms and of the courtyards of his new palace; he also had inscriptions with Akkadian cuneiform inscriptions prominently engraved on the visible surfaces of the wall slabs and gateway colossi.127 From the mid-​eighth century bc onward, the Assyrian kings starting with Tiglath-​pileser III emulated post-​Hittite palaces even further by incorporating an architectural unit known as a bīt hilāni—​a monumental columned porch—​into the plans of their palaces.128 Sargon II describes this as follows: I had built in front of their gates a portico (bīt appāti), a replica of a Hittite palace, which is called a bīt hilāni in the language of Amurru (i.e., the Levant). Eight twin lion colossi of shining copper, which weigh 4,610 full talents and which were cast by the craft of the god Ninagal and filled with radiance: upon the lion colossi I installed four matching cedar columns, whose diameters are one nindanu each, the product of Mount Amanus, and I positioned cross-​beams (upon them) as a cornice for their gates.129

125. Russell 1999: 228–​229; cf. the contributions in Novák, Prayon, and Wittke (eds.) 2004. 126. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 22: vi 53–​54. 127. Russell 1999: 229–​230; Bonatz 2004: 309; Kertai 2015: 19. 128. Reade 2008; Erarslan 2014; Kertai 2017 (with references). 129. Frame 2021: no. 7: ll. 161–​164.

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Tiglath-​pileser III was the first Assyrian king to include a bīt hilāni in the plan of his palace. Presumably, he had seen this architectural feature firsthand while campaigning in the west and had developed an appreciation for it. Whereas the western models were generally placed on the building’s exterior façade, the Assyrian adaptation of the bīt hilāni turned it into a feature that was constructed inside the palace.130 This is typical for Assyrian architecture, which generally saves its ornamental detail for the interior of the buildings. Having such a columned porch within the palace would have enabled the king to make an appearance without being immediately approachable, making it a very useful tool for the king’s interaction with the court and its visitors. Tiglath-​pileser’s successors integrated such porches in their palaces, and this useful architectural feature remained in use until the end of the empire. Sennacherib incorporated a bīt hilāni into his Southwest Palace at Nineveh, as well as into the arsenal that he constructed on that city’s second citadel mound of Nebi Yunus.131 Esarhaddon’s inscriptions record that he, too, constructed a bīt hilāni for the arsenal of Kalhu (today known as Fort Shalmaneser),132 and those of Ashurbanipal state that he added such a porch to his newly constructed royal residence at Nineveh (the so-​called North Palace).133

39.11.2.  Babylon as the model for Sargon II’s new capital Dur-​Šarrukin When Sargon II forcibly removed his brother Shalmaneser V from the throne in 722 bc and usurped the kingship of Assyria, he faced fierce resistance to his rule, also in the Assyrian heartland.134 Despite being a member of the royal family, Sargon knew very well that the elite of

130. Kertai 2017: 97–​101. 131. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 1: ll. 82–​84; no. 34: ll. 64–​66, 75–​77. 132. Leichty 2011: no. 80: 3´–​11´. 133. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9: vi 55–​56; no. 11: x 101–​102. 134. Radner 2016: 49–​52; Frame 2021: no. 89: ll. 30–​40.

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Assyria’s then-​administrative capital Kalhu could no longer be seen as unquestioningly loyal to whoever sat on the throne.135 This had been amply demonstrated by the fact that the inhabitants of that city aided his father Tiglath-​pileser III during the revolts of 746–​745 bc in taking away the throne from Aššur-​nerari V.136 After crushing his opposition, Sargon took steps to relocate himself and his family, as well the central administration of the empire. The foundations for Sargon’s new power base, called Dur-​Šarrukin (“Sargon’s Fortress”; modern Khorsabad), were laid in his fifth regnal year, in 717 bc,137 about 15 kilometers northeast of Nineveh, at the base of Mount Muṣri (modern Jebel Bashiqa), on a site that had hitherto been occupied only by an unimportant village called Maganuba.138 The creation of Dur-​Šarrukin gave Sargon the opportunity for a fresh start, just like the transformation of Kalhu into an administrative center had done for Ashurnasirpal II some 170 years earlier.139 Because “not one of the 350 previous rulers who had exercised lordship over Assyria before my time and had governed the subjects of the god Enlil had noted its (i.e., the city’s) site or come to know how to make it habitable,”140 Sargon and his architects had a clean slate on which to create their perfect city. Between 717 bc and 706 bc,141 Dur-​Šarrukin was built from the ground up, designed according to Sargon’s conceptions of an ideal capital and conceived as an almost perfect square.142 135. Radner 2011a: 325; Frahm 2017a: 181. 136. Millard 1994: 43, 57 (years 746–​745 bc). 137. Millard 1994: 46–​47, 60 (year 717 bc). 138. Frame 2021: no. 43: ll. 44–​49. On Maganuba, see Parpola 1995: 53; Russell 1999: 239. 139. Radner 2011a: 325–​327; Frame 2021: 30–​34 (with references). 140. Frame 2021: no. 43: ll. 45–​46. 141. Millard 1994: 47–​48, 60 (years 717 and 706 bc). 142. The southeast, northeast, northwest, and southwest stretches measure ca. 1.61 km, 1.85 km, 1.75 km, and 1.82 km, according to the “distance” tool of the Center for Advanced Spatial Technologies (https://​cor​ona.cast.uark.edu; last accessed August 26, 2021).

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This geometry stands in contrast to the organically evolved and thus less rigidly planned royal cities Assur, Kalhu, and later Nineveh. Some of Sargon’s inscriptions describe the city’s city walls and gates (figure 39.10) as follows:143 I made the length of its wall 16,280 cubits and I made its foundation secure upon (blocks of ) massive mountain (stone). In front and in back, on both sides, facing the four directions, I opened eight gates (in the city wall). Then, I named the gates of the gods Šamaš and Adad that face the east “The God Šamaš Is the One Who Makes Me Triumph” and “The God Adad Is the One Who Establishes My Prosperity.” I called the gates of the god Enlil and the goddess Mullissu that face the north “The God Enlil Is the One Who Establishes the Foundation of My City” and “The Goddess Mullissu Is the One Who Restores Abundance.” I made the names of the gates of the god Anu and the goddess Ištar that face the west “The God Anu Is the One Who Makes My Undertakings Successful” and “The Goddess Ištar Is the One Who Makes Its People Flourish.” I pronounced the names of the gates of the god Ea and the goddess Belet-​ili that face the south (to be) “The God Ea Is the One Who Keeps Its Spring in Good Order” and “The Goddess Belet-​ili Is the One Who Increases Its (Animals’) Offspring.” Its wall was (called) “The God Aššur Is the One Who Prolongs the Reign of Its Royal Builder and Protects His Troops.” Its outer wall was (called) “The God Ninurta Is the One Who Establishes the Foundation of His City for (All) Days to Come.”144 Dur-​Šarrukin’s design was carefully thought out, measured, and oriented, and the near-​perfect square shape of its 16,280-​cubit-​long inner

143. For the gates’ identifications, see Fuchs 1994: 295 n. 91, n. 94; Pongratz-​Leisten 1994: 30, 33 fig. 3; Battini 1998; Reade 2019: 85–​86; Sollee 2020: 137–​138; Novotny 2022. 144. Frame 2021: no. 9: ll. 79–​92.

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Figure 39.10.  Plans of Sargon II’s new capital Dur-​Šarrukin (top) and of Babylon (bottom). Adapted by Jamie Novotny from Sollee 2020: Fig. 123 and Pedersén 2021: Fig. 2.1.

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and outer walls was deliberate.145 The city did not follow the template of earlier Assyrian cities, although the city walls of the short-​lived and long-​ abandoned Kar-​ Tukulti-​ Ninurta (modern Tulul al-​ ‘Aqar; see ­chapter 32 in volume 3) were also built more or less as a square. Instead, Dur-​Šarrukin was modeled on the sacred city of Babylon. Like Babylon,146 Dur-​Šarrukin was constructed as an almost perfect square, with access to the city and palace provided by eight city gates.147 Why the Assyrian king chose Babylon as the model for his new capital is not addressed in contemporary sources. At the time when Dur-​ Šarrukin’s plan was conceived and constructed, the city was in the hands of one of Sargon’s fiercest rivals (Marduk-​apla-​iddina II; see ­chapter 41 in this volume). It may have been attractive as the template for the new capital of the Assyrian Empire because Babylon had been created not only as the center of the universe, but also as the eternal link between humans and gods.148 At the center of Babylon’s bond between heaven and earth stood its principal temple, Esagil, the abode of the god Marduk,149 which was the earthly replica of its celestial counterpart, the constellation known to the Babylonians as the “Field” (ikû) and to us as the “Square of Pegasus.” This is the large diamond shape formed by the four near-​equally bright stars

145. Battini 1998 (with references); 2000. On the length of Dur-​Šarrukin’s wall, see Fuchs 1994: 294–​295 n. 88; De Odorico 1995: 140–​141; Pearce 1996: 462; Radner 2005: 130–​131; Frame 2021: 21. 146. The Assyrians viewed Babylon as being constructed as a perfect square, as stated in this inscription of Esarhaddon: Leichty 2011: no. 105: vi 35–​40. 147. Sargon II (Frame 2021: no. 43: l. 66) states that he “opened gates” “in the ribcage,” a metaphor that directly references Marduk’s creation of the universe in Enuma Eliš (Van de Mieroop 1999: 337). 148. So according to the Babylonian Epic of Creation (known to contemporaries after its first words as Enuma Eliš, “When on High”); for editions, see Kämmerer and Metzler 2012; Lambert 2013. For Babylon and Esagil as the bond of heaven and earth, see George 1992: no. 1: Tintir =​Babylon tablet I: l. 6; no. 5: Esagil commentary: ll. 25–​26. 149. Leichty 2011: no. 104: iii 47–​iv 1. Esagil was also seen as the counterpart of the subterranean sweetwater ocean (apsû), Marduk’s birthplace.

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Markab (α Pegasi), Scheat (β Pegasi), Algenib (γ Pegasi), and Alpheratz (α Andromedae).150 Esagil’s main courtyard, the “Sublime Court,” was modeled on the Field in order to cement the earthly and heavenly bond and thus was designed as a diamond rather than as the traditional rectangle of Babylonian temple courtyards.151 Although it is not explicitly mentioned in contemporary textual sources, Dur-​Šarrukin was clearly built to be the new earthly counterpart of the Field and thereby was intended to supplant Esagil and, by extension, Babylon as the center of the universe. It never fully fulfilled this function, as Sargon II was killed in battle in 705 bc, the year following the inauguration of his newly built capital,152 and although it remained in use as a provincial center, it no longer served as the Assyrian Empire’s capital.

39.11.3.  Babylon’s influence on the Aššur cult and temple under Sennacherib The strong cultural influence of Babylon on the Assyrian Empire continued after Sargon’s death. Somewhat ironically, given his sustained efforts to annihilate Babylon (­chapter 38 in this volume), Sennacherib (704−681 bc) made Assyrian religion and culture more Babylonian than it had ever been. From 689–​681 bc, in what proved to be his final years on the Assyrian throne, he instituted numerous religious and cultic reforms, the most important being the remodeling of the temple, cult, and New Year’s festival of the god Aššur in the city of Assur on those of Babylon. This involved having Assyrian scribes rewrite the Babylonian Epic of Creation in such a way that Aššur, rather than Babylon’s principal deity Marduk, was its protagonist, and that instead of Babylon, Assur was the bond that held the universe together.153

150. Radner 2020: 79–​81. 151. Radner 2020: 79. 152. Frame 2021: 40 (year 705 bc). 153. Machinist 1985; Frahm 1997: 20, 282–​288; Vera Chamaza 2002: 111–​167.

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All of this took place after Sennacherib’s armies had sacked and destroyed Babylon in late 689 bc. The destruction of that sacred city and its most venerable temple Esagil, together with the removal of Marduk’s statue and its paraphernalia, had severed the bond between heaven and earth.154 To reattach the broken tether connecting humankind with the gods, Sennacherib acted quickly and recreated the bond by reconfiguring Ešarra, the Aššur temple at Assur (figure 39.11). By adding a new, multi-​room complex (the so-​called eastern annex; German, Ostanbau) to the existing structure of Ešarra, Sennacherib effectively replaced Esagil as the bond holding the universe together.155 The so-​called Aššur Temple Inscription, a text known from two eight-​ sided horizontal stone prisms, describes as follows the new eight-​gated, multi-​room complex that Sennacherib attached to the Aššur temple in order to make it more like Esagil in Babylon: I found out the will of the gods Šamaš and Adad and they answered me with a firm “yes,” and Šamaš and Adad commanded that that gate be opened towards the rising sun, facing east. At that time, I made several breaches in the wall, and I opened a new gate towards the god Aššur, my lord, towards the east, and named it “The Royal Gate.” I built anew the bīt šuhūru and widened its gate. . . . I named that gate “The Gate of the Path of the Enlil-​ Stars.” I built anew its courtyard and named it “The Courtyard of the Row of Pedestals for the Igigu Gods.” I gave the gate that faces the rising sun, towards the river, the name “The Gate of the Firmament.” I gave its entrance gate to the courtyard the name “The Entrance of the Igigu Gods.” I gave the gate that faces south the name “The Kamsu-​Igigu Gate.” I gave its entrance gate to the courtyard the name “The Gate of the Abundance of the Land.”

154. For Sennacherib’s description of Babylon’s destruction, see Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 223: ll. 43–​54. For Esarhaddon’s later account, see Leichty 2011: no. 104: i 34–​ii 2. 155. For the Aššur temple, see Grayson and Novotny 2014: 20–​22; Novotny 2014; Gries 2017 (with references).

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Figure 39.11.  Plan of the Aššur temple at Assur, note the new square courtyard (the so-​called Eastern Annex, German Ostanbau) that made the building resemble the Esagil temple in Babylon. Adapted by Jamie Novotny from Andrae 1938: 53, Fig. 35.

I gave its gate that faces north the name “The Gate of the Wagon Star.” I gave its entrance gate to the courtyard the name “The Gate of the Dais of Destinies.”156 156. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 166: ll. 13–​27.

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This addition to Ešarra was modeled on the “Sublime Court” of Esagil, which was the earthly replica of its heavenly counterpart, the constellation known as the “Field” (ikû; modern “Square of Pegasus”; section 39.11.2). Although Sennacherib does not explicitly state anywhere in his own texts that he had the new annex modeled on Esagil, it is clear from inscriptions of his son Esarhaddon and his grandson Ashurbanipal that this addition was meant to turn Ešarra into a counterpart to that temple. Esarhaddon refers to Esagil as “a replica of Ešarra,” and Ashurbanipal states that Ešarra was “a replica of the temple of the Enlil of the heavens (i.e., Marduk).”157 Thus, by transforming a part of Aššur’s temple into the earthly equivalent of the celestial “Square of Pegasus,” Sennacherib aimed at reconnecting the bond between heaven and earth that had been severed at Babylon, but from a completely different location. To strengthen that link, the Assyrian king implemented further changes, including the adaptation of Babylon’s New Year festival (akītu) for Assur. Sennacherib had a New Year festival house built outside the western wall of the city, just as it was in Babylon. An inscription written on a stone tablet suggests that the original New Year festival house had been outside of Assur, but that it had long been forgotten and that its ceremonies were therefore being performed inside the city.158 The new shrine was built entirely from stone blocks; its foundation deposit deserves special mention, as Sennacherib included items that he had received as a diplomatic gift from Karib’il Watar, the ruler of Saba in far-​away South Arabia (­chapter 53 in volume 5)—​ideally suited to emphasize Sennacherib’s far-​reaching power: While laying the foundation of the New Year festival house, the audience gift of Karib’il, king of the land Saba—​pappardilû-​ stone, choice stones, and fine aromatics—​was presented to me

157. Leichty 2011: no. 104: iii 48–​49; Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 23: l. 29. 158. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 168: ll. 25–​27.

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and from that audience gift I laid stones and aromatics in its foundation.159 In the building’s main entrance, Sennacherib had an ornate, cast bronze door installed that depicted an epic battle from the new Assyrian version of Epic of Creation, which had Aššur as the protagonist and hero.160 Although that door, undoubtedly a work of stunning craftsmanship, has not survived, the Akkadian inscription written on the door is preserved in the form of a draft (or perhaps an archival copy) and thus records what was depicted on the New Year festival house’s entrance, namely the final battle between Aššur and Tiamat, the divine sea, as described in the Assyrian version of Epic of Creation: Aššur was shown with a raised bow, riding in a chariot with the god Amurru (presumably as his chariot driver), and Sennacherib is said to have been depicted alongside his god.161 After assuming power, Sennacherib’s son and successor Esarhaddon made a concerted effort to reverse some of the religious reforms that Sennacherib had implemented. He took it upon himself to rebuild Babylon in order to make that important city, with Marduk’s Esagil temple at its center, once again a bond that connected heaven and earth.162 To achieve these goals, Esarhaddon ruled Babylonia directly, although he could not be appointed king of Babylon in the regular way since Esagil was in ruins, and Marduk’s statue damaged and in Assur.163 Esarhaddon was also unable to undo the alterations that his father had made to the Aššur temple at Assur, since his advisors instructed him that changing the (divinely ordained) plans of temples was strictly forbidden.164

159. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 168: ll. 48–​51. 160. Kämmerer and Metzler 2012: 26–​33, 355–​360; Lambert 2013: 5–​6. 161. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 160. 162. Radner 2020: 75–​87. 163. For Esarhaddon in Babylon, see Frame 1992: 64–​101; Porter 1993; Leichty 2011: nos. 48, 104–​126. 164. Leichty 2011: nos. 57–​59, especially no. 58: iv 4–​8; see Novotny 2014.

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39.12. The legacy of the Assyrian Empire After the destruction of the cities in the Assyrian heartland, writing in cuneiform seems to have disappeared entirely in that region,165 although the cult of the god Aššur survived in Assur until the early centuries of our modern era.166 Features of the Assyrian Empire’s administration and infrastructure were used and adapted by its successor states, notably the Neo-​Babylonian Empire, whose first two rulers Nabopolassar (625–​605 bc) and Nebuchadnezzar II (604–​562 bc) closely modeled elements of the organization of the royal court and the central administration on its Assyrian predecessor.167 As a former cog in the imperial machinery,168 Nabopolassar could of course draw on his personal knowledge and experience. Equally, tales about some of the Assyrian kings and also royal women continued to circulate, especially in Aramaic but also in Demotic: these include the Inaros Cycle (about the conquest of Egypt under Esarhaddon), the Tale of Ahiqar (about an advisor of Esarhaddon), and the Tale of the Brothers’ War (about Ashurbanipal and Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin; section 39.2.8).169 Some information on the Assyrian Empire also found its way into the Bible,170 and into the writings of historians writing in Greek and Latin.171 165. Note, however, that some post-​Assyrian legal contracts in Assyrian script and language but dated after the regnal years of Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon (604−562 bc) have been discovered at Dur-​Katlimmu: Postgate 1993; Radner 2002: 61–​69 nos. 37–​40. 166. Miglus 1992; Dalley 1993; 2013: 179–​202; Frahm 2017a: 193–​194; Radner 2017. 167. Jursa 2010; 2014. 168. Jursa 2007. 169. The Tale of Ahiqar is in Aramaic, the Inaros Cycle is in Demotic, and the Tale of the Brothers’ War is written in Aramaic, but in Demotic script. For the Tale of Ahiqar, see Lindenberger 1982. For the Inaros Cycle, see Ryholt 2004; Jay 2016: 127–​210; Rana Sérida 2018. For the Tale of the Brothers’ War, recorded on Papyrus Amherst 63, see Dalley 2001; Ryholt 2004; van der Toorn 2018; Fales 2020. 170. For Assyria in the Hebrew Bible, see Frahm 2017b. 171. For Assyria in the classical sources, see Rollinger 2017.

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An influential example is an episode in the “History of Persia” of Ctesias of Cnidus,172 a Greek physician living at the Persian imperial court in the late fifth century bc. It deals with end of the Assyrian Empire and the fate of its last king, Sardanapalus, who committed suicide when he thought that Nineveh was about to fall to the Babylonian and Median forces laying siege to his capital. Ctesias narrates the king’s death as follows: Then the king (i.e., Sardanapalus) . . . gave up hope of being saved. To avoid falling into the hands of the foe, he prepared a massive pyre in the palace and piled on it gold and silver, as well as all royal garments; then he shut the concubines and eunuchs into a room which had been got ready in the midst of the pyre, and consigned himself together with them and the palace to the flames.173 Sardanapalus is typically identified with Ashurbanipal, but the narrative appears to have conflated him with his brother Šamaš-​šumu-​ukin who died in the flames of his palace in 648 bc (section 39.9),174 and also with Sin-​šarru-​iškun, who died when the Babylonians and Medes sacked Nineveh in 612 bc (section 39.10).175 The story served as the inspiration for Lord Byron’s tragedy Sardanapalus (1821), which in turn inspired Eugène Delacroix to paint La mort de Sardanapale (1827), and this hugely popular painting again prompted Hector Berlioz to compose the cantata Sardanapale (1830), and Franz Liszt his unfinished opera Sardanapalo (1845–​1852).176

172. For an edition of the surviving fragments, see Lenfant 2004; see also Rollinger 2017: 571–​572. 173. Ctesias FGrH 688 F1b; see Kuhrt 2007: 41: no. 2.16: §27. 174. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 7: viii 55´–​61´; no. 11: iv 56–​52. 175. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 3: l. 44. 176. Cf. Frahm 2003.

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Biblical and classical sources kept the memory of the Assyrian Empire alive until Assyria’s rediscovery in the mid-​nineteenth century ad, when its once-​grand capital cities began to be unearthed and Assyrian cuneiform sources came to light.177 But perhaps most importantly in our present context, the legacy of the Assyrian Empire was preserved in the place name Syria, which derives from the designation Assyria:178 its use is a testimony of how deeply the western parts of the Assyrian Empire had been shaped by the centuries under the rule of the kings from the Tigris. R ef er en c es Åkerman, K., and Baker, H.D. 2002. Pālil-​ēreš. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 981–​982. Andrae, W. 1938 Das wiedererstandene Assur. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Bagg, A. 2011. Die Assyrer und das Westland: Studien zur historischen Geographie und Herrschaftspraxis in der Levante im 1. Jt. v.u. Z. Leuven: Peeters. Baker, H.D. 2008a. Salmanassar III. RlA 11: 581–​585. Baker, H.D. 2008b. Šamši-​ilu. RlA 11: 639–​640. Baker, H.D. 2011. Tukultī-​apil-​Ešarra. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​II: Š–​Z. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1328–​1331. Baker, H.D. 2016. Tiglath-​Pileser III. RlA 14: 21–​24. Baker, H.D., and Yamada, S. 2002. Salmānu-​ašarēd. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1071–​1078. Battini, L. 1998. Les portes urbaines de la capitale de Sargon II: étude sur la propagande royale à travers les données archéologiques et textuelles. In Prosecký, J. (ed.), Intellectual life of the ancient Near East. Prague: Academy of Science of the Czech Republic, 41–​55. Battini, L. 2000. Des rapports géométriques en architecture: le cas de Dūr-​ Šarrukīn. RA 94: 33–​56.

177. For the archaeological exploration of Assyria, see Larsen 1996; 2017. 178. Rollinger 2006.

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Bonatz, D. 2004. Objekte der Kleinkunst als Ideenträger zwischen dem syro-​ anatolischen und dem assyrischen Raum: das Problem der Elfenbeine. In Novák, M., Prayon, F., and Wittke, A.-​M. (eds.), Die Außenwirkung des späthethitischen Kulturraumes: Güteraustausch—​ Kulturkontakt—​ Kulturtransfer. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 387–​404. Brinkman, J.A. 1998. Aššūr-​etel-​ilāni. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1/​I: A. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 183–​184. Dalley, S. 1993. Nineveh after 612 BC. AoF 20: 134–​147. Dalley, S. 2000. Shamshi-​ilu, language and power in the western Assyrian Empire. In Bunnens, G. (ed.), Essays on Syria in the Iron Age. Leuven: Peeters, 79–​88. Dalley, S. 2001. Assyrian court narratives in Aramaic and Egyptian: historical fiction. In Abusch, T., Noyes, C., and Hallo, W. W. (eds.), Historiography of the cuneiform world. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 149–​161. Dalley, S. 2013. The mystery of the Hanging Garden of Babylon: an elusive world wonder traced. Oxford: Oxford University Press. De Odorico, M. 1995. The use of numbers and quantifications in the Assyrian royal inscriptions. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. de Vaan, J.M.T.C. 1995. ‘Ich bin eine Schwertklinge des Königs’: die Sprache des Bel-​ ibni. Kevelaer: Butzon und Bercker /​Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Elayi, J. 2017. Sargon II, king of Assyria. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Elayi, J. 2018. Sennacherib, king of Assyria. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Erarslan, A. 2014. An essay on a local version of the historical hilanis: ‘L-​hilani’ buildings in Kahta-​Adıyaman, Turkey. Akkadica 135: 173–​195. Fales, F.M. 2012. After Tayinat: the new status of Esarhaddon’s adê for Assyrian political history. RA 106: 133–​158. Fales, F.M. 2020. Saritra and the others: a Neo-​Assyrian view of Papyrus Amherst 63. In Rizza, A., Giusfredi, F., D’Alfonso, L., Giorgieri, M., Balza, M.E., and Cotticelli-​Kurras, P. (eds.), Città e parole argilla e pietra: studi offerti a Clelia Mora. Bari: Edipuglia, 221–​251. Fales, F.M. 2021. Aramaic epigraphy from Assyria: new data and old issues. In Maeir, A.M., Berlejung, A., Eshel, E., and Oshima, T. (eds.), New perspectives on Aramaic epigraphy in Mesopotamia, Qumran, Egypt and Idumea. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 5–​16.

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Finet, A. 1992. Le banquet de Kalah offert par le roi d’Assyrie Ašurnasirpal II (883–​859). Res Orientales 4: 31–​44. Fischer, S. 1998. Aššūr-​nāṣir-​apli. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1/​I: A. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 204–​207. Frahm, E. 1997. Einleitung in die Sanherib-​Inschriften. Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien. Frahm, E. 1999. Nabû-​zuqup-​kenu, das Gilgamesch-​Epos und der Tod Sargons II. JCS 51: 73–​90. Frahm, E. 2002. Sīn-​aḫḫē-​erība. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1112–​1127. Frahm, E. 2003. Images of Ashurbanipal in later tradition. Eretz Israel 27: 37*–​48*. Frahm, E. 2011. Sanherib (Sîn-​aḫḫē-​erība), König von Assyrien (705–​681). RlA 12: 12–​22. Frahm, E. 2016. Of doves, fish, and goddesses: reflections on the literary, religious, and historical background of the Book of Jonah. In Baden, J., Najman, H., and Tigchelaar, E. J. C. (eds.), Sibyls, scriptures, and scrolls: John Collins at seventy. Leiden: Brill, 432–​450. Frahm, E. 2017a. The Neo-​Assyrian period (ca. 1000–​609 BCE). In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 161–​208. Frahm, E. 2017b. Assyria in the Hebrew Bible. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 556–​569. Frame, G. 1992. Babylonia, 689–​627 BC. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten. Frame, G. 1995. Rulers of Babylonia from the Second Dynasty of Isin to the end of the Assyrian domination (1157–​612 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Frame, G. 1999. A siege document from Babylon dating to 649 BC 51. JCS 51: 101–​106. Frame, G. 2021. The royal inscriptions of Sargon II, king of Assyria (721–​705 BC). University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Fuchs, A. 1994. Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad. Göttingen: Cuvillier. Fuchs, A. 2008. Der Turtān Šamšī-​ilu und die große Zeit der assyrischen Großen (830–​746). WdO 38: 61–​145. Fuchs, A. 2011a. Sargon II. RlA 12: 51–​61.

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Fuchs, A. 2011b. Šarru-​kēnu, Šarru-​kīn, Šarru-​ukīn. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​II: Š–​Z. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1239–​1247. Fuchs, A. 2014. Die unglaubliche Geburt des neubabylonischen Reiches oder: die Vernichtung einer Weltmacht durch den Sohn eines Niemand. In Krebernik, M., and Neumann, H. (eds.), Babylonien und seine Nachbarn in neu-​und spätbabylonischer Zeit. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 25–​71. Fuchs, A. 2018. How to implement safe and secret lines of communication using Iron Age technology: evidence from a letter to a god and a letter to a king. In Yamada, S. (ed.), Neo-​Assyrian sources in context: thematic studies on texts, history and culture. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 41–​50. George, A.R. 1992. Babylonian topographical texts. Leuven: Peeters. Grayson, A.K. 1975. Assyrian and Babylonian chronicles. Locust Valley, NY: Augustin. Grayson, A.K. 1991. Assyrian rulers of the early first millennium BC, vol. I (1114–​859 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Grayson, A.K. 1996. Assyrian rulers of the early first millennium BC, vol. II (858–​745 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Grayson, A.K., and Novotny, J. 2012. The royal inscriptions of Sennacherib, king of Assyria (704–​681 BC), part 1. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Grayson, A.K., and Novotny, J. 2014. The royal inscriptions of Sennacherib, king of Assyria (704–​681 BC), part 2. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Gries, H. 2017. Der Assur-​Tempel in Assur: das assyrische Hauptheiligtum im Wandel der Zeit. Berlin: Harrassowitz. Ito, S. 2018. The hunt for Nabû-​bēl-​šumāti of the Sealand: searching for the details in epistolary sources. In Yamada, S. (ed.), Neo-​Assyrian sources in context: thematic studies of texts, history, and culture. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 69–​92. Jay, J.E. 2016. Orality and literacy in the Demotic tales. Leiden: Brill. Jeffers, J., and Novotny, J. 2023. The royal inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 BC), Aššur-​etel-​ilāni (630–​627 BC), and Sîn-​šarra-​iškun (626–​612 BC), kings of Assyria, part 2. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Jursa, M. 2007. Die Söhne Kudurrus und die Herkunft der neubabylonischen Dynastie. RA 101: 125–​136. Jursa, M. 2010. Der neubabylonische Hof. In Jacobs, B., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Der Achämenidenhof /​The Achaemenid court. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 67–​106.

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Jursa, M. 2014. The Neo-​Babylonian Empire. In Gehler, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Imperien und Reiche in der Weltgeschichte: epochenübergreifende und globalhistorische Vergleiche. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 121–​148. Kämmerer, T.R., and Metzler, K.A. 2012. Das babylonische Weltschöpfungsepos Enūma elîš. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Kalimi, I., and Richardson, S. (eds.) 2014. Sennacherib at the gates of Jerusalem: story, history and historiography. Leiden: Brill. Kertai, D. 2015. The architecture of late Assyrian royal palaces. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kertai, D. 2017. The interior spaces of Assyria’s royal palaces: the bēt ḫilāni reconsidered. Iraq 79: 85–​104. Kertai, D. 2021. The hubris of founding a new city: Sargon II and the creation of Dur-​Sharruken. Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology and Heritage Studies 9: 210–​224. Kuhrt, A. 2007. The Persian Empire: a corpus of sources from the Achaemenid period. London and New York: Routledge. Lambert, W.G. 2013. Babylonian creation myths. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Larsen, M.T. 1996. The conquest of Assyria: excavations in an antique land. London and New York: Routledge. Larsen, M.T. 2017. The archaeological exploration of Assyria. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 583–​598. Lauinger, J. 2012. Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty at Tell Tayinat. JCS 64: 87–​123. Lauinger, J. 2013. The Neo-​Assyrian adê: treaty, oath, or something else? ZAR 19: 99–​115. Lauinger, J. 2015. Neo-​Assyrian scribes, “Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty,” and the dynamics of textual mass production. In Delnero, P., and Lauinger, J. (eds.), Texts and contexts. Berlin: De Gruyter, 285–​314. Lemaire, A. 1993. Joas de Samarie, Barhadad de Damas, Zakkur de Hamat: la Syrie-​Palestine vers 800 av. J.-​C. In Aḥituv, S., and Levine, B.A. (eds.), Avraham Malamat volume. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 148*–​157*. Leichty, E. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Esarhaddon, king of Assyria (680–​669 BC). Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Lenfant, D. 2004. Ctésias de Cnide: la Perse; l’Inde; autres fragments. Paris: Les belles lettres.

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Lindenberger, J.M. 1982. The Aramaic proverbs of Ahiqar. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Liverani, M. 1992. Studies on the annals of Ashurnasirpal II, 2: topographical analysis. Rome: Università degli studi di Roma “La Sapienza.” Lundström, S., and Orlamünde, J. 2011. Die Orthostaten Tiglat-​Pilesers I. und Assurnasirpals II. aus dem Alten Palast von Assur. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Luppert-​Barnard, S.M. 2001. Nergal-​ilā’ī. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 2/​II: L–​N. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 948–​949. Machinist, P. 1985. The Assyrians and their Babylonian problem: some reflections. Jahrbuch des Wissenschaftskollegs zu Berlin 1984/​85: 353–​364. Marriott, J., and Radner, K. 2015. Sustaining the Assyrian army among friends and enemies in 714 BCE. JCS 67: 127–​143. Mattila, R. 2011. Šamšī-​ilu. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​ Assyrian Empire, 3/​II: Š–​Z. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1226. Melville, S.C. 1999. The role of Naqia/​Zakutu in Sargonid politics. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Melville, S.C. 2016. The campaigns of Sargon II, king of Assyria (721–​705 BC). Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Meuszyński, J. 1981. Die Rekonstruktion der Reliefdarstellungen und ihrer Anordnung im Nordwestpalast von Kalhu (Nimrūd): Räume B, C, D, E, F, G, H, L, N, P. Mainz: Zabern. Miglus, P.A. 1992. Das letzte Staatsarchiv der Assyrer. In Hrouda, B. (ed.), Von Uruk nach Tuttul: eine Festschrift für Eva Strommenger. Munich: Profil-​ Verlag, 135–​142. Millard, A.R. 1994. The eponyms of the Assyrian Empire, 910–​ 612 BC. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Na’aman, N. 1999. Lebo-​Hamath, Subat-​Hamath, and the northern boundary of the land of Canaan. UF 31: 417–​441. Novák, M., Prayon, F., and Wittke, A.-​M. (eds.) 2004. Die Außenwirkung des späthethitischen Kulturraumes: Güteraustausch—​ Kulturkontakt—​ Kulturtransfer. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Novotny, J. 2002a. Sammu-​rāmat or Sammu-​ramāt. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1083–​1084.

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Novotny, J. 2002b. Sīn-​šarru-​iškun. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1143–​1145. Novotny, J. 2014. “I did not alter the site where that temple stood”: thoughts on Esarhaddon’s rebuilding of the Aššur temple. JCS 66: 91–​112. Novotny, J. 2022. “I opened eight gates”: revisiting the identification of Dūr-​ Šarrukīn’s city gates. In Nadali, D., Nigro, L., and Pinnock, F. (eds.), “Moving on from Ebla, I crossed the Euphrates”: an Assyrian day in honour of Paolo Matthiae. Oxford: Archaeopress, 105–​118. Novotny, J., and Jeffers, J. 2018. The royal inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 BC), Aššur-​etel-​ilāni (630–​627 BC), and Sîn-​šarra-​iškun (626–​612 BC), kings of Assyria, part 1. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Novotny, J., Jeffers, J., and Frame, G. 2023. The royal inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 BC), Aššur-​etel-​ilāni (630–​627 BC), and Sîn-​šarra-​iškun (626–​ 612 BC), kings of Assyria, part 3. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Novotny, J., and Singletary, J. 2009. Family ties: Assurbanipal’s family revisited. Studia Orientalia 106: 167–​177. Novotny, J., and Watanabe, C.E. 2008. After the fall of Babylon: a new look at the presentation scene on Assurbanipal relief BM ME 124945–​6. Iraq 70: 105–​125. Oates, J., and Oates, D. 2001. Nimrud: an Assyrian imperial city revealed. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Paley, S.M., and Sobolewski, R.P. 1987. The reconstruction of the relief representations and their positions in the Northwest-​Palace at Kalḫu (Nimrūd), vol. II: rooms: I, S, T, Z, west-​wing. Mainz: Zabern. Paley, S.M., and Sobolewski, R.P. 1992. The reconstruction of the relief representations and their positions in the Northwest-​Palace at Kalhu (Nimrūd), vol. III: the principal entrances and courtyards. Mainz: Zabern. Parpola, S. 1993. Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian scholars. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Parpola, S. 1995. The construction of Dur-​Šarrukin in the Assyrian royal correspondence. In Caubet, A. (ed.), Khorsabad, le palais de Sargon II, roi d’Assyrie. Paris: La documentation française, 47–​68. Parpola, S., and Watanabe, K. 1988. Neo-​Assyrian treaties and loyalty oaths. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Pearce, L.E. 1996. The number-​syllabary texts. JAOS 116: 453–​474. Pedersén, O. 2021. Babylon: the great city. Münster: Zaphon.

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Pickworth, D. 2005. Excavations at Nineveh: the Halzi Gate. Iraq 67: 295–​316. Pongratz-​Leisten, B. 1994. Ina šulmi īrub: die kulttopographische und ideologische Programmatik der akītu-​Prozession in Babylonien und Assyrien im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Mainz: Zabern. Porter, B.N. 1993. Images, power, and politics: figurative aspects of Esarhaddon’s Babylonian policy. Philadelphia, PA: American Philosophical Society. Porter, B.N., and Radner, K. 1998. Aššūr-​ahu-​iddina. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1/​I: A. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 145–​152. Postgate, J.N. 1993. The four “Neo-​Assyrian” texts from Šēḫ Ḥamad. SAAB 7: 109–​124. Postgate, J.N., and Reade, J.E. 1980. Kalhu. RlA 5: 303–​323. Radner, K. 2002. Die neuassyrischen Texte aus Tall Šēh Hamad. Berlin: Reimer. Radner, K. 2004. Assyrische Handelspolitik: die Symbiose mit unabhängigen Handelszentren und ihre Kontrolle durch Assyrien. In Rollinger, R., and Ulf, C. (eds.), Commerce and monetary systems in the ancient world: means of transmission and cultural interaction. Stuttgart: Steiner, 152–​169. Radner, K. 2005. Die Macht des Namens: altorientalische Strategien zur Selbsterhaltung. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Radner, K. 2008. Provinz, C: Assyrien. RlA 11: 42–​68. Radner, K. 2011a. The Assur-​Nineveh-​Arbela triangle: central Assyria in the Neo-​Assyrian period. In Miglus, P.A., and Mühl, S. (eds.), Between the cultures: the central Tigris region from the 3rd to the 1st millennium BC. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 321–​329. Radner, K. 2011b. Royal decision-​making: kings, magnates, and scholars. In Radner, K., and Robson, E. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of cuneiform culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 358–​379. Radner, K. 2012. The stele of Adad-​nerārī III and Nergal-​ēreš from Dūr-​ Katlimmu (Tell Šaih Ḥamad). AoF 39: 265–​277. Radner, K. 2014. An imperial communication network: the state correspondence of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. In Radner, K. (ed.), State correspondence in the ancient world: from New Kingdom Egypt to the Roman Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 64–​93. Radner, K. 2016. Revolts in the Assyrian Empire: succession wars, rebellion against a false king and independence movements. In Collins, J.J., and Manning, J.G. (eds.), Revolt and resistance in the ancient Classical world and the Near East. Leiden: Brill, 41–​54.

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Radner, K. 2017. Assur’s “Second Temple Period”: the restoration of the cult of Aššur, c. 538 BCE. In Levin, C., and Müller, R. (eds.), Herrschaftslegitimation in vorderorientalischen Reichen der Eisenzeit. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 77–​96. Radner, K. 2019. Neo-​Assyrian treaties as a source for the historian: bonds of friendship, the vigilant subject and the vengeful King’s Treaty. In Lanfranchi, G. B., Mattila, R., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Writing Neo-​ Assyrian history: sources, problems, and approaches. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 309–​328. Radner, K. 2020. A short history of Babylon. London: Bloomsbury. Radner, K. 2021. Diglossia and the Neo-​Assyrian Empire’s Akkadian and Aramaic text production. In Jonker, L.C., Berlejung, A., and Cornelius, I. (eds.), Multilingualism in ancient contexts: perspectives from ancient Near Eastern and Early Christian contexts. Stellenbosch: African Sun Media, 146–​181. Radner, K., Ruby, J., and Weissert, E. 1998. Aššur-​bāni-​apli. In Radner, K. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1/​I: A. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 159–​171. Rana Sérida, R. 2018. Myth, memory, and mimesis: the Inaros Cycle as literature of resistance. In Audley-​Miller, L.G., and Dignas, B. (eds.), Wandering myths: transcultural uses of myth in the ancient world. Berlin: De Gruyter, 281–​308. Reade, J.E. 2008. Real and imagined “Hittite palaces” at Khorsabad and elsewhere. Iraq 70: 13–​40. Reade, J.E. 2019. Assyrian palaces reconsidered: practical arrangements at Til-​ Barsib, and the Garden-​Gate and canal at Khorsabad. SAAB 25: 73–​97. Rollinger, R. 2006. Assyria and Syria revisited. JNES 65: 283–​287. Rollinger, R. 2017. Assyria in classical sources. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 570–​582. Russell, J.M. 1998. The program of the palace of Assurnasirpal II at Nimrud: issues in the research and presentation of Assyrian art. AJA 102: 655–​715. Russell, J.M. 1999. The writing on the wall: studies in the architectural context of late Assyrian palace inscriptions. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Russell, J.M. 2017. Assyrian cities and architecture. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 423–​452. Ryholt, K. 2004. The Assyrian invasion of Egypt in Egyptian literary tradition: a survey of the narrative source material. In Dercksen, J.G.

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(ed.), Assyrian and beyond: studies presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 384–​511. Sano, K. 2020. Die Deportationspraxis in neuassyrischer Zeit. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Schaudig, H. 2011. Sîn-​šarra-​iškun. RlA 12: 522–​524. Siddall, L.R. 2013. The reign of Adad-​nīrārī III: an historical and ideological analysis of an Assyrian king and his times. Leiden: Brill. Siddall, L.R. 2014. Sammu-​ramāt: regent or queen mother? In Marti, L. (ed.), La famille dans le Proche-​Orient ancien: réalités, symbolismes et images. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 497–​504. Sollee, A.E. 2020 “Bergesgleich baute ich hoch”: Untersuchungen zur Architektur, Funktion und Bedeutung neuassyrischer Befestigungsanlagen. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Starr, I. 1990. Queries to the sungod: divination and politics in Sargonid Assyria. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Stronach, D. 1997. Notes on the fall of Nineveh. In Parpola, S., and Whiting, R.M. (eds.), Assyria 1995. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 307–​324. Tadmor, H., and Yamada, S. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–​722 BC), kings of Assyria. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Van de Mieroop, M. 1999. Literature and political discourse in ancient Mesopotamia: Sargon II of Assyria and Sargon of Agade. In Böck, B., Cancik-​ Kirschbaum, E., and Richter, T. (eds.), Munuscula Mesopotamica: Festschrift für Johannes Renger. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 327–​339. van der Toorn, K. 2018. Papyrus Amherst 63. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Vera Chamaza, G.W. 2002. Die Omnipotenz Aššurs: Entwicklungen in der Aššur-​Theologie unter den Sargoniden Sargon II., Sanherib und Asarhaddon. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Watanabe, K. 2014. Esarhaddon’s succession oath documents reconsidered in light of the Tayinat version. Orient: Report of the Society for Near Eastern Studies in Japan 49: 145–​170. Weissert, E. 2002. Sīn-​nādin-​apli. In Baker, H.D. (ed.), The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3/​I: P–​Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1138–​1139.

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Yamada, S. 2000. The construction of the Assyrian Empire: a historical study of the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (859–​824 BC) relating to his campaigns to the West. Leiden: Brill. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2007. Neo-​ Assyrian and Israelite history in the 9th century: the role of Shalmaneser III. In Williamson, H.G.M. (ed.), Understanding the history of ancient Israel. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 243–​277. Zawadzki, S. 1995. Hostages in Assyrian royal inscriptions. In Van Lerberghe, K., and Schoors, A. (eds.), Immigration and emigration within the ancient Near East: Festschrift E. Lipiński. Leuven: Peeters: 449–​458.

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The Assyrian Empire Perspectives on Culture and Society Frederick Mario Fales

40.1.  The kingdom of Assyria and the Assyrian Empire The kingdom of Assyria was known as māt Aššur, “Land of Aššur,” from the fourteenth century bc onward. When we speak of the Assyrian Empire from the ninth century bc onward (figure 40.1), this is a modern designation that does not find a counterpart in the Assyrian documentation. How far the Assyrian state of the late second millennium bc,1 during the so-​called Middle Assyrian period (­chapter 32 in volume 3), served as a political model for the Assyrian Empire, and what characteristics were shared between the two, are topics that have been widely discussed, especially in the past decade.2 Contrary to the previous focus

1. Very little is still known of the region that later formed the Assyrian core area during the approximately 300 years of Mittani domination (Lion 2011; c­ hapter 29 in volume 3), and thus the notion that the Assyrian state of the Middle Assyrian period would have derived a number of its administrative and political and territorial structures from a Mittani model must remain a tantalizing suggestion that cannot be fully substantiated; see Postgate 2011: 91. 2. E.g. Brown 2015; Düring 2020. Frederick Mario Fales, The Assyrian Empire In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0040

Figure 40.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 40. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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on their differences, many scholars now prefer to stress the lines of continuity between the earlier phase and the imperial stage. This shift is largely due to the increased documentation available in recent years for the former period, from both the textual and the archaeological point of view. Before we fully turn to a discussion of the cultural and social history of the Assyrian Empire, we will briefly sketch some continuities that firmly anchor the imperial phase of the Land of Aššur in this country’s past developments. From an ideological standpoint, the theological foundation of Assyrian kingship was based on the transformation of the cult of the god Aššur from the genius loci of a city-​state on the Tigris into a divine figure that had assimilated the characteristics of the god Enlil, the most prominent Mesopotamian deity of sovereignty and kingship since the time of the kingdom of Akkad (­chapters 9 and 10 in volume 1). In this new manifestation, Aššur became the patron deity of a territorial state with a program of permanent expansion and conquest and thus the divine world suzerain, using the king of Assyria as his tool and his appointed representative on earth.3 This idea found its full formulation already in a coronation ritual used (by the latest) in the twelfth century bc, and continued until the fall of the Assyrian Empire in the late seventh century bc. Thus, the essence of Assyrian kingship was expressed by the traditional epithets of šangû, “priest/​temple manager,” and rē’û, “shepherd,” both of which indicated that the king acted on behalf of a higher authority, namely the god Aššur.4 From a geographical and political standpoint, textual sources and archaeological finds show that the Assyrian state of the second millennium bc was comprised first of only a core area along the Tigris valley between Assur in the south and Nineveh in the north, and east of that river as far as Arbela (modern Erbil), the “heartland” formed of the triangle between these three ancient cities of pre-​Assyrian origin.5 3. On Assyrian kingship, see, e.g., Maul 1999; Parker 2011; Liverani 2017b. 4. Pongratz-​Leisten 2015: 202–​217. 5. Altaweel 2008; Radner 2011b. Note also a fourth city: Kilizu (modern Qasr Shamamok), situated between the Upper Zab and Arbela, which came to

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The kingdom also held sizable regions along the upper stretches of the Tigris, in the Khabur and the Balikh valleys and along the eastern bank of the Euphrates.6 At times the kingdom extended southward toward Babylonia, and Tiglath-​ pileser I (1114–​ 1076 bc) even reached the Mediterranean coast (see c­ hapter 37 in this volume). Administrative lists of regular offerings of foodstuffs (ginā’ū) to the temple of the god Aššur from the late second millennium bc testify to the state’s organization into provinces (pāhutu),7 as was also the case in the first millennium bc.8 Because of these territorial additions, Assyria became a full-​fledged member of the “Club of the Great Powers” of the Late Bronze Age, as documented by the Amarna Letters and the state correspondence from the Hittite capital Hattusa (­chapters 28 and 30 in volume 3), and the kingdom gradually rose to be the foremost political structure in Syria and Mesopotamia, eclipsing Mittani, the Hittite kingdom, and Babylonia. In contrast to these regional competitors, and even Egypt, Assyria was even able to survive the phase of general economic instability and sociopolitical crisis that began in the late twelfth century bc, as demonstrated by continuities in settlement and material culture.9 Despite experiencing substantial territorial losses, including most of its western and northern territories, the clear memory of the previous era of Assyrian domination

constitute the center of a synonymous province at the same time as the other centers and continued to serve as a provincial capital until the end of the Assyrian Empire; see Postgate 1980; Radner 2008a: 46–​47, no. 6. All four sites were famous in imperial times as centers of scribal learning; see, e.g., Fales and Postgate 1992: nos. 150–​151, 153; Parpola 1993: no. 6. 6. This territorial extension may have been consciously modeled on the short-​lived attempt by the Amorite ruler Samsi-​Addu, king of Ekallatum in the early second millennium bc, to create a vast “Kingdom of Upper Mesopotamia” from the Zagros Mountains to the Euphrates river (cf. ­chapter 15 in volume 2); he was then claimed as a royal ancestor and Assyrianized as Šamši-​Adad I in the Assyrian King List; see Charpin 2004. 7. For the geographical data in these lists, see Rosa 2010. For the creation of the provinces, see Llop 2011; and for their administration, see Faist 2010. 8. For the provinces of the Assyrian Empire, see Radner 2008a. 9. Fales 2011.

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incited and bolstered their determined reconquest under the Assyrian kings of the tenth and ninth centuries bc (­chapter 37 in this volume).10 The Middle Assyrian period saw the earliest encounters—​often, but not always, hostile—​between the Assyrian state and the pastoral and kinship-​based groups of West Semitic language and culture, designated by the social term Ahlamû and the ethnonym Aramāyu (“Arameans”).11 To a certain extent, the growth of the Assyrian polity into an imperial formation was the result of the continuing military competition for the control of potentially rich agricultural areas in the plains with the Arameans and other population groups that were not amenable to state-​based domination. Until the seventh century bc, the armies of the Assyrian Empire were regularly called upon to campaign against such groups, which also included the Medes in Western Iran (­chapter 43 in this volume), and mass deportations were routinely used to bring desirable territories more fully under imperial control.12 Lastly, we turn to cultural continuities. By the Middle Assyrian period, the elite of the religious and political capital Assur were acquainted with a sizable corpus of religious, literary, and lexical texts deriving from Babylonia, following a first foray against Babylon under Aššur-​uballiṭ I (1363–​1328 bc) and its later conquest under Tukulti-​ Ninurta I (1243–​1207 bc). Interest in Babylonian culture was fueled by the desire to link Assyrian traditions back to the time-​honored foundations of the Mesopotamian religious and cultural horizon from the period of the kingdom of Akkad onward. This interest continued in the Assyrian Empire, and resulted in the vast royal libraries assembled at Nineveh by later rulers, especially Ashurbanipal (section 40.2).13 To

10. Fales 2012. 11. On the Arameans, see recently Younger 2016; Fales 2017; and the contributions to Dušek and Mynářová (eds.) 2019. 12. Oded 1979; Radner 2018. 13. Note Lenzi 2015: 166, who states that the widespread modern notion that “the last half of the second millennium was the time of organizing and standardizing texts” may be considered “a plausible hypothesis, though it does not disallow later editorial activity in Nineveh or elsewhere.”

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the Middle Assyrian period date the earliest attestations of scholars in royal service, representing the main branches of Mesopotamian scholarship: astrologers (ṭupšarru Enūma Anu Enlil), exorcists (āšipu), diviners (bāri’u, later bārû) and physicians (asi’u/​asû); specialists in these same disciplines would advise the Assyrian kings until the seventh century bc and are among the most prolific correspondents of Esarhaddon (680–​ 669 bc) and his son and successor Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc).14 All in all, then, it is clear that numerous continuities link the ideological, political, societal, and cultural practices and traditions of the kingdom of Assyria in the second millennium bc and the Assyrian Empire of the first millennium,15 with all these elements persisting during the centuries of the Assyrian imperial experience—​of course on a greatly enhanced scale and certainly with various new developments.16 From an Assyrian imperial point of view, the Middle Assyrian period was perceived as a model that already outlined the Assyrian political project in its essence, and decidedly not as a bygone era that would be cut off from the present and its achievements.17

40.2.  Introducing the textual sources Imperial Assyrian culture and society may be viewed through the lens of a unique set of sources, especially the rich mix of texts associated with this polity, which constitutes the most extensive political-​territorial

14. Jakob 2003: 522–​537; Radner 2009: 222–​223. The lamenter (kalû), who was responsible for the chants and other prayers in conjunction with ritual activities to assuage the gods, mainly in the temple cults, is a later addition of imperial times; see Gabbay 2014. 15. Cultural continuities are indicated also by the rich vocabulary of realia and the terms associated with production techniques, as attested in texts of the earlier and later phases, e.g., the designations for textile types and styles and the processes of their chain of production as recorded in administrative documents; see Gaspa 2018: 6 and passim. 16. E.g., the creation of an innovative imperial communication network using a relay system; see Radner 2014. 17. Düring 2018: 42.

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formation that the Middle East had yet witnessed.18 This treasure trove of sources derives mainly from excavations undertaken from the 1840s ad, at the very beginning of the archaeological investigation of ancient Mesopotamia, to the present. The extant textual documentation of the Assyrian Empire consists primarily of texts inscribed on clay and to a lesser extent on other media (including stone, metal, and ivory) that are today kept in various museums and collections, including some in the Middle East itself. Early excavators had neither the interest nor the technical means to adequately record the archaeological context of these written materials, and while Walter Andrae’s work in the city of Assur during 1903–​1914 may be seen as a notable exception, this situation only changed in the mid-​twentieth century, when closely controlled excavations with precise recording of all finds became the discipline standard. For all earlier finds, and in particular for the huge amounts of texts from Nineveh, much effort was, and often still is, required to reconstruct how an individual source relates to the others in terms of contents, purpose, and dating. While the onset of information technology has greatly sped up such work since the 1980s, much still remains to be done. In terms of their contents and their typology, the textual sources of the Assyrian Empire can be divided into three main corpora, each conveying information on very different aspects of Assyrian culture and society: the texts from scholarly “libraries,” the archival or everyday documents, and historiographic materials. The sometimes extremely voluminous collections of scholarly texts that we today tend to describe as “libraries” contained literary, mathematical, and lexical materials, as well as products of the technical and learned tradition, including documents of medical, divinatory, ritual, or hermeneutic interest.19 By far the largest such collection of texts originated in the seventh-​century bc Assyrian capital city of Nineveh,

18. According to Fuchs 2011: 380, the unprecedented expansion of the Assyrian state brought its territories to surpass “all former empires by a factor of at least four.” 19. In general, see Pedersén 1998; and for details on individual libraries, see Robson 2011; 2020.

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specifically from the Southwest Palace of Sennacherib (704–​681 bc), the North Palace of his grandson and second successor Ashurbanipal, and the temples of Nabû and Ištar on the citadel, in total some 31,000 clay tablets and fragments.20 Many of these texts were certainly written in Nineveh, either as new copies of old manuscripts or as original compositions. However, many others were brought to Nineveh at the behest of the Assyrian kings from various centers of scholarship, especially in Babylonia, with the purpose of “assembling and curating a literary past.”21 When such Babylonian manuscripts were copied, the scribes either kept the original Babylonian cuneiform script or sometimes copied the text using the Assyrian form of the cuneiform script, which is distinct from the contemporary Babylonian version, with so-​called colophons inserted at the end of the tablets that explain their origins and transmission and mark these manuscripts as royal property.22 Since King Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc) had moved his court there in the mid-​ninth century bc (see ­chapter 37 in this volume), the city of Kalhu (modern Nimrud) served as the Assyrian capital until the early eighth century bc. Excavations in the 1950s yielded a limited, but highly significant, corpus of 280 scholarly tablets from the Ezida temple of the god Nabû; further texts were discovered in more recent decades, and some still await publication. The contents of their colophons demonstrate that some of these texts had been moved by royal decree when the crown established newer power centers, either to Dur-​Šarrukin, the short-​lived capital of Sargon II (721–​705 bc), or to Nineveh, the new capital of his son and successor Sennacherib and all subsequent rulers until the end of the Assyrian Empire in the late seventh century bc. The most important Assyrian libraries from private contexts derive from two very different locations and date to the seventh century bc: Assur, the original Assyrian capital and the “holy city” of the Assyrian Empire, and the western provincial town of Huzirina (modern

20. Fincke 2003–​2004. 21. Feldman 2014: 74; cf. also Frame and George 2005. 22. For a detailed discussion see Lenzi 2015: 162.

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Sultantepe), near the important center of Harran. While a number of libraries have been found in Assur, the most voluminous collection of learned texts derives from the private house of a family of exorcists. Numbering some 1,200 tablets, the collection was mainly composed of rituals and incantations, but texts of a literary and lexical character are also included.23 At Huzirina, British-​Turkish excavations undertaken in 1951–​1952 brought to light the library of a family of local priests containing some 400 tablets covering a wide range of content.24 Taken together, the texts known from these Assyrian libraries constitute a vast and diverse set of data that allow us to gain insight into contemporary culture and society. Aside from purely technical information, e.g., on the methods of divination or the occasions necessitating particular rituals, some of these scholarly texts contain abundantly rich lexical materials regarding substances that were used for healing or nourishment: plants, their various parts (roots, fruit, blossoms, seeds, leaves, and branches), and their products including wine and beer; domesticated and wild animals; and a wide range of minerals (from river mud to different stones) and chemical substances (such as bitumen, salts, alum, and nitrate). Although comparison with the growing body of archaeobotanical and archaeozoological data is proving useful, the precise identification of many of these items remains difficult. Nevertheless, through this information we are able to obtain a sense of the material world experienced by the people of this time in their own words. For the cultural and social history of the Assyrian Empire, the most significant information can be drawn from the archival, or everyday, texts of this period.25 This body of texts consists currently of about 6,000 clay tablets written in the Neo-​Assyrian vernacular and cuneiform script. The

23. Discussed by Maul 2010; May 2018. 24. Published by Gurney and Finkelstein 1957; Gurney and Hulin 1964. 25. For the overall historical potential of the entire group of “everyday” documents, see Fales 2001. For recent surveys on legal documents, see Faist 2019; on administrative documents, see Gaspa 2019; on epistolary texts, see Radner 2014; Fales 2009–​2010 (published 2015); Ito 2019; Luukko 2019a; and on the treaty documents, see Radner 2019. For the linguistic aspects of all such texts, see Fales 2021a.

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bulk of the available material comes from Nineveh, Kalhu, and Assur in the Assyrian heartland, but smaller numbers of texts are available from many other sites in northern Iraq, as well as from the more remote provinces in modern Syria and southeastern Turkey, with a few examples from Israel.26 On the one hand, such texts document various state-​issued data sets, typically pertaining to incoming or outgoing personnel and goods, from a range of administrative contexts (palatial, provincial, or municipal), most commonly in the form of lists, inventories, notes, and accounts of various types (see also section 40.3.2).27 On the other hand, there are legal materials either from private contexts or from public and official spheres, including royal grants and decrees, appointment documents, and treaty documents of the crown (both with other polities or internal partners within the Assyrian Empire). Lastly, these materials include reports on celestial and sacrificial divination and the related documentation of queries and results. Many of these texts are dated by year eponym (limmu), month, and day. Archival texts contain a wide range of data of interest to the historian: personal names (section 40.5.3) as well as toponyms and various other geographical designations; information on administrative and scribal activity and military, ceremonial, cultic, and civilian organization; and insights into all sorts of aspects of everyday life, from food practices to taxation. The roughly 3,000 texts that form the remnants of the royal correspondence arguably represent the high point of this corpus, with many diverse threads of epistolary exchange between the kings and their various courtiers and officials, posted at the heart of the empire or across its lands. In contrast to the legal documents, letters employ only a few fixed formulae, and they have therefore been the key to understanding the basics and the finer points of the Neo-​Assyrian language,28 in itself and in relation to other tongues in use in the Assyrian Empire

26. See the distribution maps by Radner 2011a: 395 fig. 4 and Tushingham 2019: 31. 27. Despite their largely fragmentary state of conservation, and the apparent variety and randomness of their scribal characteristics, a set of formal criteria guided the composition of these administrative materials; see Gaspa 2012. 28. See now Fales 2021a.

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(section 40.5.2). The information gained from these letters ranges very widely, from the personal or status-​driven negotiations of the royal court across different ranks of the hierarchy to instances of royal policy-​and decision-​making on political and religious matters, which sometimes left a deep mark on the Assyrian Empire.29 These letters contain a mass of details, which are often absent elsewhere in the extant sources, providing rare social, psychological, technological, and geographical snapshots of imperial society and culture. The majority of these letters are not dated, and the ruler is always referred to as “the king, my lord,” so their historical contexts must be painstakingly reconstructed. In addition to the library texts and the archival texts, research on the Assyrian Empire can also draw on historiographic accounts in the form of the Assyrian royal inscriptions commissioned by the individual kings in order to celebrate and immortalize their achievements (section 40.3.1). Typically, several exemplars of such compositions, written in a high literary version of Akkadian called today “Standard Babylonian,”30 exist, and frequently there are also different editions. This is because the specific texts were most commonly created in order to commemorate the palaces, temples, city walls, and gates built by a specific king’s command, and the compositions make use of fixed compositional parts, standard phraseological formulae, and repetitive narrative sequences.31 But in addition to recording the exploits of the rulers and detailing the building works performed in different parts of the empire, these inscriptions provide a wealth of data about the various polities, peoples, and population groups faced by the Assyrian armies, and about the cities, landmarks, and regions encountered and the routes used during their military campaigns. Many of the chapters in this volume draw on this information, and the year-​by-​year accounts compiled for these inscriptions provide

29. For the various participants in this correspondence, see Radner 2011c; 2016a. 30. For the high literary Standard Babylonian and the everyday dialects used by the Assyrian Empire (Neo-​Assyrian, Neo-​Babylonian, and Aramaic), as well as the texts recorded in all of these, see Radner 2021. 31. For a critical evaluation of this genre of Assyrian texts, see Fales 1999–​2001 and more recently Frahm 2019; Liverani 2019.

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the backbone of the regional chronologies for the entire Middle East in the early first millennium bc.32 As the fruit of several long-​ term and large-​ scale international research programs undertaken since the 1980s, the bulk of the second two groups of textual sources from the Assyrian Empire, and a sizable part of the first group, has been made available in reliable print editions and more recently also in digital format.33 The amount of information on the cultural and social aspects of the Assyrian Empire is plentiful and extremely varied, as it derives from different textual perspectives, of learned, legal, official, and sometimes even impromptu origin and character. What knowledge we can gain on the basis of these sources thus surpasses in range, depth, and detail anything that is available from any other polity of the Middle East before and afterwards, at least down to the Hellenistic age. But beyond the textual data, the study of the Assyrian Empire can also draw on rich archaeological data. While the focus of archaeological research was once firmly laid on the Assyrian heartland and especially on the excavation of the Assyrian capital cities, since the mid-​twentieth century ad archaeological investigations have vastly expanded in their geographical scope, targeting Assyrian sites beyond Iraq to Syria, Israel, Lebanon, Jordan, Turkey, and Iran. Methodologies have also changed, and now routinely include regional surveys34 and the interpretation of satellite imagery,35 and record not only artifacts and human

32. There are also chronicle-​type texts, but these are much less frequent; see Yamada 2019. 33. For the electronic corpus of Neo-​Assyrian archival texts, see http://​oracc.org/​ atae, and for the Assyrian royal inscriptions, see http://​oracc.org/​riao (last accessed May 2, 2020), where the information on the print editions also is readily available. The various large-​scale research projects since the 1980s that gave rise to these (and related) electronic corpora are discussed by Novotny and Radner 2018. 34. E.g., Wilkinson et al. 2005. 35. E.g., Altaweel 2008; Ur and Reade 2015; Ur 2017; Morandi Bonacossi 2018.

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remains, but also environmental data as well as botanical and animal remains.36

40.3.  The testimony of word and image: the Assyrian army In this section, we will explore one particular topic in some detail as a case study that highlights the possibilities and challenges presented by the textual sources. We will begin with the royal inscriptions (section 40.3.1), focusing on these compositions’ characteristics and their suitability as sources for the historian. We will then enhance the picture by drawing on the information that can be gained from the archival texts (section 40.3.2). And lastly, we will supplement this data with the pictorial evidence from imperial art, especially the wall decorations of the royal palaces—​another set of sources that has no match in the remains of any other Middle Eastern polity up to that point (section 40.3.3). As we shall see, by using these complementary bodies of sources, we can gain a nuanced understanding of certain aspects of the period. A number of open questions remain, even though our subject is covered in considerable detail in all three data sets: it is the Assyrian army.

40.3.1.  The testimony of the royal inscriptions The Assyrians cultivated a particular type of narrative presentation of royal achievement that illustrated the king’s mandate as the representative of the gods, particularly of the national god Aššur, to achieve control over and maintain order in the world.37 This literary form can be considered historiographic in function and context, insofar as its products were meant to preserve the memory of events, peoples, and places through chronological ordering and filtering. This was achieved

36. E.g., the interpretation of archaeobotanical remains; see Rosenzweig 2016; Rosenzweig and Marston 2018. 37. Maul 1999.

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by indicating the regnal years (palû) of the kings and the eponym year (limmu), and through other means.38 The Assyrian historiographic corpus is formed by the accumulation of many separate texts commissioned by subsequent Assyrian rulers that today we dub the “Assyrian royal inscriptions.” This body of about 1,000 individual compositions was created with the clear purpose of presenting an official version of the achievements and exploits of the royal “authors,” and as a shorthand definition, the Latin term res gestae for a first-​person record of a ruler’s life and deeds fits the corpus rather comfortably. There is no evidence—​ either deriving from textual analysis or from outside sources—​that the compilation, organization, or even physical storage of the royal inscriptions as a coherent body of texts was ever carried out, or that there ever was an intention to do so.39 On the contrary, each individual specimen of such texts, often available in many copies with only minute variations in spelling, was created for a very specific occasion of ceremonial or commemorative importance to the king. For such purposes, the inscriptions were disseminated throughout the empire, either inscribed on monuments erected in open spaces or far more frequently integrated into the fabric of public buildings such as temples, palaces, and fortifications (either placed visibly or hidden).40 They were written on a range of different objects and media, from clay tablets to more complex clay artifacts that we describe as prisms, cylinders, or barrels, to baked and sometimes also glazed bricks and different other building parts (including wall slabs, paving stones, door thresholds, and the metal sheathing binding door leaves together), to freestanding monuments and statues (most commonly made of stone but sometimes also metal), to rock faces in strategic locations, and in

38. Liverani 1973; 1992; 2017a. 39. Despite the fact that it is clear that specimens from earlier reigns were available for comparison and cross-​reference to the specialized scribes entrusted with the composition of the royal inscriptions; see Radner 2005: 238–​243. 40. For an extensive survey of the location of the Assyrian royal inscriptions within buildings, see Russell 1999.

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their shortest versions also inscribed on various objects like vessels and seals.41 The modern historian has much to learn from these texts, but the first question that arises is: which audiences were they originally intended for? Although they routinely address future rulers and this group therefore certainly formed an intended readership,42 it seems unlikely that the inscriptions were meant to be read out to the contemporary populace.43 Taking into account the carefully chosen locations for some of these inscriptions, which were marked by separateness or indeed inaccessibility (e.g., deposited in the foundations of buildings or inscribed on the back of wall slabs or on rock surfaces high above the ground), it seems likely that their intended audience was never restricted to humans but that they also addressed the gods, whose approval was sought with these compositions. Already the use of the high literary language that we call “Standard Babylonian,” distinct and separate in style and vocabulary as it is from the everyday written and spoken varieties of Akkadian (section 40.2), points to a desire to give these compositions permanence and guarantee their continuing appreciation, rather than to an attempt to maximize their impact in the here and now. The fact that some texts possess a strikingly refined and richly evocative literary quality, such as the composition known either as The Eighth Campaign of Sargon II (referring to the expedition undertaken in 714 bc) or Sargon’s Letter to the God Aššur (as this is the shape the text was given), confirms this view. The negative portrayal of Rusa, king of Urartu, in this composition likely was written not only to stun the assembled crowds, but also to appeal to the judgment of humans and gods beyond the barriers of time and space:

41. Cf., e.g., Fales 1999–​2001. 42. As is the case for Mesopotamian inscriptions more generally; see Radner 2005: 129–​155, 182–​234 (with Assyrian examples). 43. Nevertheless, the idea has been debated since Oppenheim 1960 first suggested it; see the discussion by Liverani 2014.

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Rusa the Urartian [was] one who failed to observe the bidding of the gods Aššur and Marduk, who had no reverential fear of the oath of the Lord of Lords, a mountain-​dweller, offspring of a murderous lineage, who had no discernment, whose lips uttered (only) words of hostility and foolishness, who did not keep the venerable command of the god Šamaš, the great judge of the gods, and who—​year after year—​never failed to violate his prescriptions. After (all) his previous misdeeds, he committed the great crime of destroying his land and causing the downfall of his people.44 On the other hand, it seems unreasonable to think that the basic ideological message borne by the royal inscriptions, which envisaged the position of the king as the earthly representative of the national god Aššur, at whose behest, and aided by whose support, he carried out ever-​victorious campaigns of conquest and annexation of new territories and peoples, would not have been communicated to the people of Assyria. This core message underpinned every royal inscription and surely informed the loyalty and support of state officials, courtiers, and priests within the imperial capital and in the provincial centers, who either directly contributed to its communication or assisted in its wider diffusion. In turn, the message may have been condensed into a set of stock phrases that reached the wider public, especially in the cities, through oral transmission or perhaps also some form of ceremonial enactment, fueling enthusiasm for the imperial mission and countering possible discontent with the perpetual war effort.45 Such quick and ready stock phrases extolling the power of the god Aššur and, through him, of king and state can be readily identified in the personal names of the age (cf. section 40.5.3), and also in the new place names bestowed upon recently annexed cities, which celebrated

44. Frame 2021: no. 65: ll. 92–​95. 45. For the productive suggestion that “the Neo-​Assyrian administration was not bureaucratic, and depended on a sense of institutional loyalty and personal interaction up and down the system,” see Postgate 2007: 358.

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the god’s or the king’s virtues, e.g., Ana-​Aššur-​utir-​aṣbat “I (i.e., the king) have reorganized anew (the city /​land) for the (lordship of ) the god Aššur,” or Libur-​munih-​libbi-​Aššur “May he (i.e., the king), who calms the heart of the god Aššur, be long-​lasting!”46 Especially as toponyms, the imperial message would have also reached population groups outside the Assyrian borders and thus these condensed slogans should be seen as an important element in the imperial mission of achieving and maintaining control over the “Four Quarters of the World.” To return to the Assyrian royal inscriptions, these compositions collectively represent a corpus that was historiographic in scope, written in an inherently self-​aggrandizing and self-​mythologizing but also positive and optimistic manner, in keeping with what the rulers and their scribes considered appropriate for their perpetual commemoration. These writings must therefore not be misunderstood as the felicitous fragments of an Assyrian history book, from which the modern interpreter could easily draw material.47 Instead, the royal inscriptions require intensive critical engagement in order to appreciate and often assuage the effects of their conscious use of script, language, and style, their deliberate selection, sequencing, and presentation of specific events, and their consistent use of mythologizing or literary insertions.48 Generally speaking, the Assyrian royal inscriptions yield their fullest information potential when events that are described in these texts are also documented in external sources (textual, figurative, or archaeological), but given the enormous wealth of data they contain, this is only true in a relatively limited number of cases. The origins of this body of texts lie in the dedicatory and votive inscriptions inscribed on specific artifacts that are first attested in Assur in the early second millennium bc (­chapter 15 in volume 2). The length of such inscriptions grew progressively through the centuries, and their contents increased in complexity. In the Middle Assyrian period, the

46. Pongratz-​Leisten 1997. 47. Van de Mieroop 1999: 40–​59. 48. Fales 1991a; 1999–​2001.

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religious formulae at the core of these texts were routinely supplemented with narrative sections, in which the ruler (writing in the first person) related his victories on the battlefield and his territorial conquests, as well as his achievements in constructing or renovating temples, palaces, and city fortifications throughout his land. Under Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc),49 a structural and literary form was attained that today we call the “Assyrian Annals.” The annal form was used until the end of the Assyrian state in the late seventh century bc (­chapter 37 in this volume). Such annals begin with a long introduction that extols the glory of the god Aššur and any other deities appropriate to the specific occasion for which an inscription was created, and then goes on to introduce the king with laudatory epithets that highlight diverse aspects of his rulership. This is followed by an even lengthier central section that provides a detailed account of the deeds achieved by the king, with a decided focus on military success. The arrangement of this section is, in essence, chronological, starting with the year of the king’s accession to the throne and ending in whatever year the inscription was created, i.e., following an annalistic narrative scheme (and hence the modern designation as annals). The fact that in the late twelfth century bc, military campaigns still took place on an annual schedule, to accommodate the fact that most of the troops spent the greater part of the year working in agriculture, lent itself to structuring the king’s deeds in the form of a year-​by-​year account. As levels of military activity increased, these yearly accounts were further subdivided, most typically into geographical regions, but the fiction that wars only ever lasted for one season was rigorously maintained. Especially from the reign of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc) onward,50 the resulting inscriptions were typically very long and complex in structure, as the yearly accounts could be fleshed out by the insertion of references or outright quotes of literary compositions, of prayers or of reports of omens, as well as visions and dreams (especially in the inscriptions of

49. For the edition of Tiglath-​pileser I’s inscriptions, see Grayson 1991. 50. For the edition of Tiglath-​pileser III’s inscriptions, see Tadmor and Yamada 2011.

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Ashurbanipal, 668–​631 bc51), which further contributed to the length of the central sections. Further into a certain king’s reign, the scribes composing and structuring these annals were often faced with the need to abridge the previously created text in order to accommodate new materials for each passing year. They did so by either shortening or sometimes combining the accounts of the earlier years, or by creating so-​called summary inscriptions that sketched the king’s achievements without using an annalistic structure. It is obvious that these complex compilation processes sometimes resulted in contradictory or conflicting accounts in different inscriptions, especially when a king ruled for an extended period of time, e.g., Ashurbanipal, whose long reign was documented in various differently (and sometimes experimentally) structured annals whose complex chronology is on occasion difficult to interpret for the modern scholar.52 The central section was typically followed by an account of the king’s building activities that had given rise to the need to create the inscription in the first place. These activities normally concerned individual buildings (temples, palaces, or fortification works), but in certain cases, they extended to the rebuilding or even entirely new creation of entire cities (notably Ashurnasirpal II with Kalhu, and Sargon II with Dur-​Šarrukin) or to major regional works such as Sennacherib’s construction of the extended waterworks feeding the city of Nineveh.53 The text normally ended with a concluding section that directly addressed future rulers and instructed them to see not only to the renovation of the building in question, but especially also to the physical care and protection of the inscription itself, to ensure the perpetuity of the “name” of its commissioning king—​threatening otherwise the revenge of the deities under whose protection the inscription had been placed.54

51. For Ashurbanipal’s dreams, see Zgoll 2006: 189–​215. 52. For the edition of Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions, see Novotny and Jeffers 2018. 53. For the building accounts in Assyrian royal inscriptions, see most recently Tudeau 2019. 54. On this aspect, see Radner 2005: 203–​206.

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How are these sources, and other textual and figurative sources, harnessed to represent the Assyrian Empire? What types of information do they provide, and what is absent? In the following, we shall focus on the Assyrian army, as war is arguably one of the royal inscriptions’ most prominent subjects, with the texts providing many evocative and detailed descriptions of the activities of the imperial forces. This passage from the inscriptions of Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) concerning the campaign against Jerusalem and Judah in 701 bc may serve as an example: I surrounded and conquered forty-​six of his (i.e., Hezekiah of Judah’s) fortified walled cities and small(er) settlements in their environs, which were without number, by having ramps trodden down and battering rams brought up, the assault of footsoldiers, sapping, breaching, and siege engines.55 However, any modern reader who was to assume that a textual type so replete with sections describing the war effort must also contain a treasure trove of data about the Assyrian Empire’s military organization and equipment would be disappointed at least in part, as the inscriptions provide only limited data on military functions and ranks or unit types. What can be discerned is the following: • a distinction between corps of permanent affiliation to the imperial forces (often designated as “Assyrian” troops) and others serving as auxiliary troops, designated by their (at least nominal) foreign ethnicity—​at least in some cases mercenaries (section 40.5); • among the permanent imperial forces, a fundamental division between the men serving in the armed forces in the “Royal Cohort” (kiṣir šarri), denoting the standing, professional forces of the Assyrian Empire, and the “King’s Men” (ṣāb šarri), recruited from among the imperial subjects by conscription; and • distinct combat units, by weapon type or means of transport, namely infantry, cavalry, and chariotry—​but no permanent maritime units. 55. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 140: ll. 13–​14.

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The number of troops available to the Assyrian rulers are only occasionally noted. It seems safe to say that Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) would have been able to mobilize armed forces of not less than 70,000 men in order to oppose the equivalent number of enemy troops of the combined armies of the Levantine states at the Battle of Qarqar on the Orontes in 853 bc, and quite possibly far more. However, the contingents sent out on annual campaigns, at times simultaneously on more than one battlefront, would have been considerably fewer in number.56 On the other hand, we must envisage a military presence throughout the lands of the empire, comprising garrison and mobile troops for the routine control and protection of key assets, specifically the main communication and trade routes and border areas (section 40.5).

40.3.2.  The testimony of the archival texts While the royal inscriptions offer only limited factual details about the army’s organization, a much more richly textured picture emerges from the archival texts (section 40.2), especially in administrative lists and military rosters from Nineveh and Kalhu. From these documents, we get snapshots, e.g., of the quantities of various types of bronze and iron weapons, stones and lead pellets for slingshots, wood, horn, and tendons needed for the manufacture of bows, and leather for quivers, bow cases, and shield reinforcements, together with data on the areas within palaces and dedicated armories used to create, repair, and store these armaments. These administrative texts give much attention to the animals of war needed to serve as pack animals, for riding, and to draw chariots or transport carts and wagons. These included horses of different breeds, donkeys, and mules in particular, and less frequently camels. We learn also of garrisons, stables, and parade or review grounds, especially for the exercising of the cavalry and chariotry units. The most prominent of 56. See De Odorico 1995: 108–​109, who also notes that this total far exceeds the estimated 30,000 men mustered by the early-​second-​millennium bc ruler Yasmah-​ Addu of Mari to come to the aid of Qatna, the 25,000–​30,000 men considered as the maximal deployment of the Hittite kings in their war against Egypt, or the 20,000 men reconstructed for the army of Rameses II of Egypt at Qadesh.

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these was the “Review Palace” (ekal mašarte) of Kalhu, a huge military arsenal known today as “Fort Shalmaneser.”57 Various archival texts document the professional designations of the different ranks of military personnel, sometimes in combination with clues about their relative importance within the army.58 However, generally speaking, no clear-​cut distinction seems to have existed within the administrative hierarchy between armed personnel and staff with other, so to speak “civilian” roles. This is exemplified by the succession treaty of Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc), drawn up in 672 bc to guarantee the loyalty of the people of the realm to the royal dynasty and especially the newly appointed crown prince Ashurbanipal. It was excavated at the provincial capital of Kullania/​Kunulua (modern Tell Tayinat). Its introduction lists as treaty partners of the king the governor of that province, with all his subordinate personnel in the following sequence, which does not distinguish between military and other functions: the governor of Kullania, with the deputy, the major-​domo (rab bēti), the scribes, the chariot drivers, the “third men” (of a chariot team) (tašlīšu), the village managers, the information officers (mutīr ṭēmi), the prefects, the cohort commanders, the charioteers, the cavalrymen, the light infantry (zakkû), the outriders (kallāpu), the specialists (ummânu), the shi[eld bearers], the craftsmen (kitkittû), and with [all] the men [of his hands], great and small, as many as there are.59 When a letter from the provincial capital Tušhan (written in the late seventh century bc in the years of war that culminated in the collapse of the empire) discusses challenges in the muster of chariotry, it mentions that this unit included a wide range of support personnel, namely:

57. For Fort Shalmaneser, see Oates and Oates 2001: 144–​193. 58. For the difficulty in reconstructing the military hierarchy, see Postgate 2007: 344. 59. Lauinger 2012: 112. On the term zakkû, see Fales 2009a; Groß 2020: 57.

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Assyrian and Aramean scribes, cohort commanders, officials, craftsmen, copper smiths, blacksmiths, those who scour the tools and equipment, carpenters, bow makers, arrow makers, weavers, tailors and those who make the repairs.60 There were also messengers, scouts, and other intelligence personnel;61 other non-​combatant personnel attached to the army included diviners, ritual experts and interpreters, as well as victualers, cooks, and domestics.62 In court society, however, a major distinction was made between those members of court called “bearded men” (ša ziqni, literally “he of the beard”) and those designated as “eunuchs” (ša rēši, literally “he of the head”). A letter to Sargon II describes eunuchs with different responsibilities from a provincial governor’s household: As to the eunuchs of the household of Aššur-​ila’i about whom the king wrote to me, saying: “Have them brought here!”—​I have just sent to the palace with an outrider a total of four eunuchs: Urdu-​ Issar, a cupbearer; Ṣilli-​Šamaš, a confectioner; Bel-​deni-​amur, a cook; and Patamû, a(nother) eunuch.63 That eunuchs were dispatched by the crown to hold positions beyond the court (figure 40.2) is a particular feature of Assyria’s imperial period, with eunuchs routinely attested as part of the imperial administration, and often holding the highest state offices such as governorships, which included military responsibilities.64 It is clear that the eunuchs represented the group that was meant to be singled out by use of the specific term, whereas the much more rarely attested term ša ziqni served as the

60. Parpola 2007: 75–​77. 61. On the Assyrian intelligence services, see Dubovský 2006. 62. As discussed by Marriott and Radner 2015: 134–​137. 63. Parpola 1987: no. 184: obv. 4−rev. 4. 64. Deller 1999; see also Groß and Pirngruber 2014.

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Figure 40.2.  A eunuch courtier carrying the king’s weapons, namely a mace, a dagger, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. The inscription incised across the center of the stone slab is the so-​called Standard Inscription of Ashurnasirpal II, which is written across all orthostats lining the palace walls. From the Northwest Palace in Kalhu. Metropolitan Museum of Art (accession number 17.190.2079; gift of J. Pierpont Morgan, 1917). Photograph courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art. CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication.

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antonym for ša rēši and primarily denoted that the people so designated were not eunuchs.65 Taken together, the “bearded men” and the “eunuchs” indicated all the “servants of the king,” and could even serve to denote all imperial subjects, as suggested by this passage from a letter addressed to Esarhaddon: The people of all the lands are obedient to the king. Both the eunuchs and the bearded courtiers eat bread under the king’s protection.66

40.3.3.  The testimony of the palace wall decorations and comparable figurative art A further key source of information on the Assyrian Empire is its figurative art, which exhibits a strong preference for narrative sequences, especially on the large-​scale reliefs engraved on alabaster and limestone orthostats that lined the walls.67 While depictions of divine or mythical beings as well as apotropaic and religious subjects are widely used in the royal palaces, especially in entrances and doorways, certain rooms were decorated with narrative scenes that portrayed key events in the king’s reign. Such depictions were carved in low relief and originally painted in a vivid color scheme of white, red, blue, and black, of which only traces have survived.68 They are attested for the palaces commissioned by Ashurnasirpal II, Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc), Sargon II,

65. Thus Groß 2020: 254–​255. 66. Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 200: 5′-​8′. 67. As suggested by Feldman 2006: 39–​40: “The particular choice of narrative as the basis for Assyrian art, which is paralleled in the development of written historical narrative in the form of the royal annals, may be closely linked to the concurrent development of imperialism as the primary element in international relations.” 68. On the use of color on the reliefs, see, e.g., Aker 2007: 230 (with earlier literature), who points out that “it is unclear whether color was used sparingly on Assyrian reliefs to emphasize or add some details or liberally to produce an effect closer to glazed bricks and wall paintings.” Digitally based techniques have confirmed that the color scheme used for the reliefs matches that of the extant wall paintings (especially at Til Barsip); see Verri et al. 2009.

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Sennacherib, and Ashurbanipal.69 Similar decoration schemes are attested also on other materials, such as the bronze bands that bound together the monumental wooden gates of Ashurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) at Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat),70 or the reliefs created out of molded and glazed bricks, attested, e.g., for Esarhaddon.71 That such depictions were designed to constitute a visual complement to the royal inscriptions is clear from a statement in one of Sargon II’s inscriptions, dealing with the construction of his new capital Dur-​ Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad): I depicted the settlements that I had conquered upon large limestone slabs and surrounded (the halls’?) lower courses (with them). I made (them) an object of wonder. I placed inside these palatial halls representations—​(made) by the craft of the sculptor—​of the people of every land that I had conquered, from east to west, by the strength of the god Aššur, my lord.72 This source corpus consists of about a thousand individual stone wall slabs.73 In regard to our present focus on war, these materials document a wealth of details, in particular in scenes of battle, siege, and the collection of tribute or war booty (objects, livestock, and people) as well as its transfer back to the Assyrian central region.74 Among the Assyrians, “bearded men” and eunuchs are clearly distinguished—​the latter being represented as beardless, as they would have been due to the effects of their early castration (figure 40.2). The main semiotic feature of such scenes is their sense of action, as created by the use of profile views, directionality, and the sequential

69. Russell 1999. 70. For the so-​called Balawat Gates, see most recently Schachner 2007; Curtis and Tallis 2008. 71. For the glazed and molded brick reliefs, see Nadali 2006. 72. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 480–​482, and passim in this ruler’s inscriptions. 73. According to the calculation by Desző 2006: 88. 74. Collins 2014.

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Figure 40.3.  The Elamite city of Hamanu, as besieged by the imperial forces of Ashurbanipal and as identified by a cuneiform caption: “The city of Hamanu, a royal city of the land of Elam, I besieged, I conquered, its booty I carried off.” From the North Palace in Nineveh. British Museum, ANE 124931. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

placement of the figures, with the king usually as central and main subject of the scene, its main actor and also putative “author.”75 The specific subject of such scenes is often identified by the interplay between image and text: either by the adjacency of the scene to a royal inscription incised on the same slab, or by means of short cuneiform captions put into the scene itself, naming people and situations (figure 40.3).76 75. See most recently Bonatz and Heinz 2018: 246–​248. For a detailed study of the figurative evidence on the Assyrian army, see Desző 2012. 76. Winter 2010: 74. With Crawford 2014: 253, it may be said that “[t]‌he case of Neo-​Assyrian wall reliefs and texts reveals the willingness of Assyrian patrons and artisans to experiment and react to verbal and visual interchange.”

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The message communicated by these scenes matches the rhetoric of the royal inscriptions. On the one hand, they depict Assyria’s complete and absolute victory in battle, with enemy soldiers trampled beneath the wheels of the imperial chariots and vultures feasting on their corpses while the imperial troops are shown as entirely unharmed.77 On the other hand, they illustrate the total submission of their enemies; the Assyrian king receives high-​ranking prisoners of war in shackles, defeated rulers kiss his feet, and tribute-​bearers bring precious gifts before him.78 The detailed depictions of the siege of enemy cities can be described as almost hyper-​realistic,79 illustrating how their fortifications were attacked by the Assyrian war towers and battering rams, and how the buildings within were set aflame with burning arrows, and superimposed on the same scene also how the invariable success of the siege led to the deportation of the civilian population and the gruesome public punishment of the enemy leaders.80 The enemies of the Assyrian Empire, those “others” who are often colorfully described in the written record,81 are depicted in a shorthand that highlighted characteristic features in hairstyle and costume to make their easy identification possible. The stereotypes of the imperial art of the ninth and eighth centuries bc gave way in the seventh century—​ especially in the time of Ashurbanipal—​to new levels of sophistication in the depictions of the ethnicities of the enemies (section 40.5), even featuring glimpses of the material culture of different peoples.82

77. For analyses of the scenes of pitched battle, see, e.g., Córdoba 1997; Scurlock 1997; Fales 2010; Nadali 2010. 78. For the scenes of tribute delivery, see Bär 1996. For an example of the depiction of deferential dignitaries falling to the feet of the Assyrian king, see Room D in the Northwest Palace of Ashurnasirpal II at Kalhu; see Aster 2016: 181 (with earlier literature). 79. The depictions of sieges have consequently found much attention in modern scholarship; see, e.g., Eph‘al 2009; Fales 2010; Fagan 2010; De Backer 2013; Nadali 2019. 80. On the public spectacle of the enemy leaders’ punishment, see Radner 2015a. 81. Fales 1982. 82. Brown 2014; DeGrado 2019.

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These depictions also provide insight into the imperial army, illustrating foot-​soldiers of various types, horsemen, and chariot teams with distinctive apparel and footwear,83 helmets of various types, and body armor ranging from light protection (round breastplates) to heavy equipment (chain mail), as well as the accompanying weaponry (dagger, spear, bow and arrows, and slings are all depicted). That these images closely mirror reality is clear from the fact that matching objects (especially the metal parts) have been recovered in excavations.84 The scenes in the palace wall decorations and comparable imperial art highlight the strategic deployment of different units. Archers, wielding composite bows constructed of wood, sinew, and horn,85 are shown to play a key role in the siege of fortified cities and in pitched battles, raining arrows from afar on the enemy forces in order to bring them into disarray. Spearmen, equipped with light, wooden, metal-​tipped spears which could be thrusted or held fast, are depicted as shock troops who lead the charge ahead of the core infantry. Infantry soldiers also bear spears and light rounded shields made of woven wicker or wood, covered with leather; wearing heavy body armor, they are depicted advancing in closed ranks against the enemy, thus earning the modern moniker as “Assyrian hoplites.”86 Spearmen of the chariotry are shown with rectangular shields of medium size from the eighth century bc onward, and these shields seem to increase in size under Sennacherib. In the depictions from the reign of Ashurbanipal, they are shown holding large trapezoidal shields with a curved profile and a rounded top edge, which protected almost the entire body of the spearman.87 This type of shield is comparable to the scutum used by the Roman army.88

83. For the relevant terminology, see Gaspa 2018. 84. Moorey 1994: 263–​265. 85. Miller et al. 1986. 86. Desző 2006: 108. 87. Hrouda 1965: 90, pl. 22, 24. 88. Salonen 1965: 198.

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From the time of Sargon II onward, the cavalry formed the elite corps of the Assyrian army, used as a rapid assault force and subdivided into mounted archers and mounted spearmen. For their protection, armed horsemen originally operated in pairs, with one holding the reins of both mounts; but this pairing was abandoned in the mid-​eighth century bc. Then, each mounted fighter was equipped with a martingale, a piece of tack designed to prevent the horse from raising its head too high, which allowed easier control of the animal and better use of one’s weapons. The cavalry spearmen typically led charges, even on difficult terrain, while the cavalry archers mostly attacked from the rear and flanks. In line with the evolution of the cavalry, the tactical role of the horse-​ drawn two-​wheeled war chariot—​crucial in the Late Bronze Age for its role as a mobile shooting platform in pitched battle—​progressively changed. During the ninth century bc, the traditional light chariot was in use, with a Y-​shaped pole, two small six-​spoke wheels and a low shallow box, to which a crossed quiver and bow case was attached; the chariots box’s floor plan was presumably D-​shaped and well suited for a crew of two men (driver and archer) standing abreast, sometimes accompanied by a third man (which was also the technical term for this role: tašlīšu),89 who protected them from behind with a shield, held with a looped hand-​grip.90 This chariot was usually drawn by two horses, and was used not only for military purposes, but also by kings for the ritual lion hunt, as seen in the reliefs of Ashurnasirpal II (figure 40.4). The eighth century bc witnessed the appearance of a more heavily armed and therefore also considerably heavier war chariot, mounted on stronger, eight-​spoked wheels (thereafter the standard) and drawn by three or four horses—​although not all of them were always harnessed to the yoke, some being attached as outriggers.91 The axle was now positioned on the rear of the chariot and the drawbar was attached to a box with higher and more solid flanks, whose floor plan was now rectangular. The crew could now include up to five men: the driver, two “third men,” 89. For the members of a chariot crew and the terminology, see Radner 2002: 10. 90. Littauer and Crouwel 1979: 102–​111; De Backer 2009. 91. Littauer and Crouwel 1979: 116.

Figure 40.4.  Ashurnasirpal II hunting lions aboard a light chariot with six-​spoke wheels. From the Northwest Palace in Kalhu. British Museum, ANE 124534. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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and two fighters, armed with bow and spear and protected by a shield fixed to the body alongside the quiver. Also thanks to its higher-​standing box, this type of chariot had a far greater force and was unquestionably more formidable than its predecessor, while still maintaining a size and weight that allowed two men to carry it on steep mountain paths or load it on boats for transport across rivers, as both texts and depictions testify. A specific term (tahlīpu), that is first attested under Sargon II, appears to refer to the armor that covered this type of chariot.92 Over time, as the territories targeted by Assyrian campaigns comprised more and more rough and impassable terrain, especially in the Taurus and Zagros Mountains and in the Anatolian and western Iranian highlands beyond them, the chariotry lost its key function of breaking through enemy formations, and its role on the battlefield became less important. From the time of Ashurbanipal, the chariotry are only depicted in scenes of pitched battles with Arabs, which took place in the open spaces of the Arabian Desert. However, the chariot retained its symbolic value as a signifier of royal power and therefore remained prominent in the visual program, e.g., in the depictions of triumph and royal hunt in the palace wall decorations of Ashurbanipal. The depictions lining the walls of the imperial palaces surely were intended to “shock and awe” contemporary spectators, as implied in the passage from Sargon II’s inscription quoted earlier in this section. The intended target group certainly included not only the members of the court, who were reminded and reassured of the appropriateness and success of the imperial effort, but also the envoys who were routinely dispatched to the Assyrian center from foreign lands, either from the client states that were required periodically to pay homage to the Assyrian king, and to bear tribute and gifts, or else from other realms whose rulers considered a relationship with the empire advantageous (­chapter 45 in volume 5 for the case of Lydia during the reign of Ashurbanipal).93

92. CAD T: 51. 93. As an example, note the emissaries from Egypt, Gaza, Judah, Moab, and Ammon visiting Kalhu during the reign of Sargon II, according to a letter from his state correspondence: Parpola 1987: no. 110.

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Even if details were not always visible,94 there can be little doubt that these scenes, which adorned the walls of the throne room, other rooms, courtyards, and the corridors that served to receive visitors to the palace, had been consciously designed to leave a deep and lasting impression of Assyrian royal and imperial power. Those who saw these works of art would later describe the scenes in awestruck terms to others, thus spreading and reinforcing the message of Assyrian power. But, like the royal inscriptions, their textual counterparts, the overall message of this pictorial program surely addressed not only contemporary audiences but also future generations, as well as the gods, in order to renew and strengthen their goodwill toward the Assyrian crown.95

40.4.  Foreign imprints on Assyrian court life The Assyrian Empire was open to cultural influences from its lands and even abroad, and the imperial court was deliberately cosmopolitan.96 It has been convincingly suggested that the figurative art that so prominently shaped the palace wall decoration (section 40.3.3) owes inspiration to the narrative sequences in the Egyptian art of the Ramesside period (see ­chapter 27 in volume 3), at least in its latest and most complex form under Ashurbanipal, when the earlier style of structuring two panels with scenes organized in relatively linear arrangements was abandoned for much freer and more complicated designs that integrated several contemporary or consecutive narrative sequences into vast spaces representing detailed and specific topography. To quote Marian Feldman, “Assyrian royal ideology, as expressed in art, developed in part out of an awareness of and reaction to the great imperial power of New Kingdom

94. Collins 2014: 621 stresses that the position of certain stone slabs and poor lighting “must have made the scenes difficult to appreciate without the aid of lamps and braziers,” and therefore “[i]‌t may have been the very scale and complex design of the reliefs rather than their content that created a sense of awe and even confusion for visitors.” 95. For a detailed discussion, see Fales 2009b: 282–​284. 96. E.g., Barjamovic 2011; Groß 2020.

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Egypt, in particular that of the Ramesside period of the thirteenth and early twelfth centuries.”97 A list of scholars at the Assyrian court from the late reign of Esarhaddon enumerates specialists in the divinatory and ritual disciplines of Mesopotamian scholarship (section 40.2), but also foreign practitioners, namely “bird watchers” (dāgil iṣṣūri), “Egyptian scribes” (ṭupšarru Muṣurāyu), and harṭibē,98 which demonstrates the influence of Anatolian and Egyptian learned traditions at the Assyrian court.99 The “bird watchers” were experts in a type of divination based on the observation of activities of wild or domesticated birds, and specifically their flight, i.e., “augury” or “ornithomancy.” The strong textual evidence from the Hittite Empire of the late second millennium bc indicates that this divinatory technique was native to Anatolia.100 In the first millennium bc, augury was still practiced there, e.g., at Kummuh (Commagene), Hamath, and Šubria, and “bird watchers” from these and other regions in northern Syria and Anatolia are attested at the royal courts of Kalhu and later Nineveh.101 The earliest cases date from 785 and 784 bc, when augurs from Kummuh (­chapter 46 in this volume) are mentioned as recipients of wine rations for sacrifices and rituals within the texts documenting the vast disbursement of this drink to the members of the royal court at Kalhu for a festival celebrated around the time of the vernal equinox, probably in honor of the storm god Adad.102

97. Feldman 2004: 141. Note that any in-​depth appraisal of this art on the part of Assyrian sculptors can only have taken place after the Egyptian campaigns begun by Esarhaddon in 671 bc, and followed by Ashurbanipal in 664 bc, which encompassed the sack of Memphis and Thebes, respectively. On the relations of the Assyrian Empire with Egypt in the eighth and seventh centuries bc, see Zamazalová 2011; Karlsson 2018. 98. Fales and Postgate 1992: no. 1. 99. For a detailed discussion of these specialists and their disciplines, as well as the historical context of their attestation at the Assyrian court, see Radner 2009. 100. For the relevant Hittite texts, see Bawanypeck 2005. 101. Radner 2009: 231–​238. 102. Fales 1994.

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Later, Tiglath-​pileser III consulted an augur from Šubria, a kingdom of Hurrian heritage in the mountainous area north of the upper stretches of the Tigris,103 which at that time was allied with the Assyrian Empire against its arch rival Urartu (­chapter 44 in this volume). As a campaign against the enemy capital Tušpa was about to unfold (perhaps around 735 bc), having been blessed by extremely favorable omens, a letter to the king seems to imply that the augur Parnaldê, hitherto considered reliable by all concerned, may have manipulated the results of his observations on the planned campaign: Your servant Parnaldê is plotting. (But) perhaps I am not telling the truth in the king my lord’s presence? Let the king, my lord, write to the Šubrian (king) that he may send Parnaldê, his augur, and let the king, my lord, ask him why he is making the bird (omen)s so favorable.104 This mention of divination as a royal decision-​making tool finds abundant parallels in the rich scholarly correspondence available for the reigns of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal in the seventh century, with the traditional Mesopotamian disciplines of astrology and extispicy (the interpretation of the liver of a sacrificial animal, most commonly a sheep) playing the key roles.105 These kings also relied on scholars from Egypt since Esarhaddon had brought “exorcists, ḫarṭibē, [ . . . ], veterinary surgeons, Egyptian scribes, [ . . . ], snake charmers” to the imperial court in 671 bc after the conquest of Memphis.106 The term harṭibu has long been recognized as a loanword from Egyptian ḥry-​tp, which had become the main word for “magician,” including the interpretation of dreams, and is also attested in the Bible

103. On Šubria, see Radner 2012a: 260–​264. 104. Luukko 2012: no. 76: rev. 11−17; with discussion in Luukko 2012: xxxiv–​xxxv. 105. Radner 2011c. 106. Leichty 2011: no. 9: i′ 9′−11′. On Egyptian snake-​charmers and their possible ritual role, see Noegel 1996.

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(mainly in the Moses story in the Book of Exodus and in the Book of Daniel) as ḥartom, “fortune teller” or even “enchanter.”107 There are no testimonies available for the exact nature of the activities of the harṭibē at the Assyrian court, but it is likely that they centered on dream interpretation, as we know that Ashurbanipal used his dreams for decision-​ making,108 that the dream omen series (Zaqīqu) was kept in his royal library,109 and that he was pleased to learn, in a letter from a court scholar, that his grandfather Sennacherib had had the god Aššur appear to him in a dream.110 Beyond divinatory practices, Egyptian cultural influences are thought to have shaped certain works of Assyrian literature.111 The Assyrian fascination with Egypt extended far beyond the world of scholarship and divination, and its material culture was widely appreciated and proudly displayed, at court and beyond.112 At the imperial court, the artistic products of the Nile valley seem to have become immensely fashionable following Esarhaddon’s campaigns to Egypt, and particularly after the defeat of the Kushite king Taharqo (690–​664 bc), when the Assyrian army took a multitude of Egyptian artifacts back to Nineveh, including “[x]‌hundred and twenty large gold headdresses from the heads of [ . . . ] on which [were set] golden vipers and golden serpents [ . . . ],” and “innumerable choice linen robes, festive garments, utensils of silver, gold, bronze, ebony, leather, . . . [. . . everything] that there is.”113

107. Attested both in Hebrew (Gen 41:8, 24; Ex 7:11, 22; 8:3, 14–​15; 9:11; Dan 1:20; 2:2: only plural) and biblical Aramaic (plural in Dan 2:27, 4:4, 6; 5:11; singular in Dan 2:10). 108. Cf. Zgoll 2006: 189–​215. 109. Oppenheim 1956; 1969; Butler 1998: 99–​101 and passim. 110. Parpola 1993: no. 174: ll. 7–​9. 111. Notably the composition known today as the “Underworld Vision of an Assyrian Prince” (Livingstone 1989: no. 32), thought to refer to events in the time of Ashurbanipal; for the Egyptian influences discernible in this text, see Loktoniov 2016. 112. Feldman 2004; Thomason 2004: 157–​161. 113. Leichty 2011: no. 1020: rev. 27−28, 34−36.

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Three fragmentary statues bearing the name of Taharqo, presumably also seized by Esarhaddon, were discovered at the entrance gates of the military arsenal of Nineveh at Nebi Yunus.114 After Esarhaddon’s death while en route to another campaign against Egypt in 669 bc, the pillage of the Nile region continued under his son and successor Ashurbanipal, who claimed to have taken from the city Thebes, which had been abandoned by the Kushite king Tanutamani (664–​656 bc), “two tall obelisks cast with shiny zaḫalû-​ metal, whose weight was 2,500 talents (and which) stood at a temple gate.”115 The obelisks may have been placed in the newly rebuilt Ehulhul temple, the sanctuary of the moon-​god Sin at Harran, with its cella clad with “70 talents of shiny zahalû-​metal,” according to Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions, possibly in order to thank this god for the support given to the Assyrian kings in their Egyptian campaigns. But whereas these monuments have hitherto not been found,116 many smaller artifacts of Egyptian origin were retrieved, from Nineveh, e.g., a bronze and gold statuette of the goddess Anukhet (on Nebi Yunus) and a bronze lion weight inscribed by Esarhaddon with the phrase “Booty of Egypt and Kush” (on Kuyunjik), as well as numerous Egyptian scarabs and amulets and Egyptian or at least Egyptianizing seals at other sites throughout the Assyrian Empire.117 The fact that, so far, only relatively little of the Egyptian booty that the Assyrian inscriptions described as so immense has been uncovered at Nineveh may well be the result of the extensive looting following the fall of that city in 612 bc, when the prized artifacts were likely seized and anything made from metal was presumably melted down. A long-​standing debate surrounds the cultural influences in evidence in the vast number of ivory pieces recovered from the palaces of

114. Feldman 2004: 148. 115. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 30−31 and passim. 116. Novotny 2020: 79. 117. Thomason 2004: 158. On the seals, see Herbordt 1992: 17, 120–​121.

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the Assyrian capital cities, especially Kalhu.118 These ivory pieces were carved into intricate boxes, vessels, and cosmetic containers, or into individual figures or scenes used to decorate other luxury items. They were used as fixtures or inlays for furniture (e.g., thrones, chairs, tables, and beds), chariots, horse tacks and blinkers, and for the handles of mirrors, fans, fly-​whisks, and daggers. Depictions in the wall decorations of the royal palaces show how these items were mounted on luxurious pieces of furniture, e.g., the queen’s throne in the famous “Garden Scene” from Ashurbanipal’s North Palace in Nineveh (figure 40.5a b).119 Many of these ivory objects display Egyptian or Egyptianized themes and style, prominently featuring traditional Egyptian iconographical motifs, such as figures of the pharaoh and the sphinx, the winged sun-​ disc flanked by cobras, and hair styled into Hathor curls, as well as ornamental elements such as lotus flowers; they are traditionally described as “Phoenician” products (see also ­chapter 47 in this volume). Other pieces are more reminiscent, in their choice of subject and execution, of the palace wall decorations and are therefore interpreted as “Assyrian.” Still others recall northern Syrian or southern Anatolian artifacts and have been consequently identified as “Syro-​Hittite” (figure 40.6). These different styles were distinguished very early on, starting with the first excavator of Kalhu, Austen Henry Layard, who studied these pieces in 1845 with a “connoisseurial” method first used for Italian art, and the attribution of individual artifacts to the different groups thus discerned has continued until the present, albeit with further subdivisions and revised classifications, and with increasing misgivings about the underlying methodology.120

118. Overall, more than 6,000 published pieces are available from the site, with about 1,100 objects still unpublished. For a catalogue of objects, see Herrmann et al. 2004; for an overview, see Herrmann 2017. 119. Feldman 2014: 100–​101. Note that ivory was almost completely absent from the tombs of the Assyrian queens at Kalhu that yielded such treasures of jewelry, clothing, and vessels but apparently contained no furniture. For the publication of the tombs’ finds, see Hussein, Altaweel and Gibson 2016, with the studies assembled in Curtis et al. (eds.) 2008. 120. As discussed by Herrmann 2020.

Figure 40.5a.  The reclining Ashurbanipal and his enthroned queen drinking wine together in the royal gardens, attended by female members of the court. From the North Palace in Nineveh. British Museum, ANE 124920. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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Figure 40.5b.  A detail of the queen’s throne. British Museum, ANE 124920. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

In particular, the notion that ivory pieces with Egyptian motifs originated in “Phoenicia” has found very little support in the material from the historical and geographical horizon of Phoenician sites, and this has weakened the original attribution. However, the existence of

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a local Levantine craft tradition of wood, bone, and ivory inlays has recently been recognized in the form of the ivories from the royal palace at Samaria, the capital of the kingdom of Israel (­chapter 48 in this volume), dating to the ninth/​eighth century bc. These inlays had long been mistakenly labeled as “foreign” imports. While Israel is of course not a Phoenician state, this identification nevertheless rehabilitates

Figure 40.6. Three of the so-​ called Nimrud Ivories (left: “Assyrian” style; center: “Phoenician” style; right: “Syro-​Hittite” style) discovered during the British School of Archaeology in Iraq’s excavations at Kalhu under Max Mallowan, as displayed in the exhibition of the Iraq Museum, Baghdad. Photographs by Karen Radner.

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the basic assumption that there was a separate Levantine ivory-​carving tradition.121 In any case, beyond the Assyrian capitals of Kalhu, Nineveh, and Dur-​ Šarrukin, such intricate ivory carvings are known from elite contexts in many other cities of the empire, including Dur-​Katlimmu (modern Tell Sheikh Hamad), Guzana (Tell Halaf ), Hadatu (Arslan Tash), Hamath (Hama), Kullania (Tell Tayinat), Sam’al (Zincirlı), and Til Barsip (Tell Ahmar),122 suggesting a widespread appreciation for these delicate pieces with their rich warm color and sheen. Yet many questions remain: Were only the examples of the “Assyrian” group manufactured in Assyria, and the other pieces imported as tribute, booty, or gifts from abroad? Or, had at least some of the latter pieces been created by foreign craftsmen who had settled or been deported to the central region from the west, who would have carved them in the styles of their native lands? And while the circumstances of their recovery indicate that ivory pieces in foreign styles reached the Assyrian court in bulk, these same find contexts suggest that many of these objects may have been eventually put into storage rather than used. It has even been provocatively suggested that, perhaps differently from the pieces in Assyrian style, “there is little evidence to prove that the Neo-​Assyrian kings and queens actually liked it (i.e., the foreign-​style ivory production).”123 Despite the routine presence of many foreigners, either permanently or as visitors, members of the Assyrian court may have come to entertain a more restricted aesthetic taste than their ancestors in the late second millennium bc, who—​like their contemporaries elsewhere—​seem to have enjoyed the rich and complex “international style” of the Late Bronze Age, if the elegant artifacts (including ivory pieces) from the tomb of the highly influential state official Babu-​ahu-​iddina at Assur can be taken as representative.124 121. On this point, see Naeh 2015. 122. As well as in areas outside Western Asia, such as Cyprus, Samos, Etruria, Carthage, and Spain (­chapter 47 in this volume). 123. Herrmann and Millard 2003: 398. 124. Feldman 2006.

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40.5.  A multi-ethnic patchwork of peoples Ancient states, particularly imperial formations, have shown many different trajectories in balancing the pros and cons of governing vast territories, annexed through military conquest or political-​diplomatic action and subjected to their hegemony either through direct rule or different forms of indirect rule. The differences in these strategies are partly informed by the need to manage heterogeneous population groups, whether left in place under a newly established social and political order or relocated elsewhere through state-​controlled resettlement practices. Some of these strategies were aimed at the assimilation of foreign groups, whereas others instead were designed to prevent this or to create and deepen differences. When appraising ancient polities, approaches that question the relative importance of ethnicity,125 as a cultural and social construct that shapes group identities from within and outside, have recently found much interest, and the multi-ethnic Assyrian Empire has been no exception.126 Between the ninth and seventh centuries bc, a vast number of peoples came to “draw the yoke of Aššur” (the Assyrian expression for accepting the empire’s sovereignty),127 and this presents us with a unique set of data for the analysis of how the Assyrians perceived the diversity of people(s) within their empire. Almost all Semitic languages, including Akkadian, use a particular suffix attached to names, or sometimes also other types of nouns, in order to indicate origin or affiliation, called in Arabic nisba (“attribution”). The anthropologist Clifford Geertz has described this as creating “a framework within which persons can be identified in terms of supposedly immanent characteristics.”128 Analyzing the use of the nisba in the 125. E.g., Eriksen 2013. 126. For a recent discussion, see Fales 2019. A blurring between analyzing ethnicity as a (self-​)classificatory concept and attempting to pinpoint the ethnic, or ethnic-​linguistic, origins of the diverse population groups of the empire is present in the overviews by Parpola 2004; Bahrani 2006; and to a lesser extent, Emberling 2014. 127. As discussed by Postgate 1992. 128. Geertz 1974: 42.

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textual sources of the Assyrian Empire offers a conceptual framework to study how the imperial elite experienced and evaluated “others”—​ within the Empire and beyond—​vis-​à-​vis themselves. In the following, we will first focus on people who were born as “Assyrians” or acquired this identity later in life (section 40.5.1), before exploring the use of nisba terms for people of foreign origin, especially for men in the service of the Assyrian army (section 40.5.2).

40.5.1. “Assyrians” Nisba terms could be used to designate people from communities that were located not only within the provincial boundaries of the Assyrian Empire,129 such as people from various cities in the Assyrian central region, including Arbela, Assur (or Libbali, “Inner City”), Halahhu, Kalhu, Kilizu, and Nineveh, but also in other provinces, e.g., Arraphe, Arzuhina, Harran, Lahiru, or Naṣibina.130 Most of these cities were provincial capitals, therefore housing a royal palace, and some also enjoyed great prestige as seats of temples of particular relevance within the Assyrian state cult, including Arbela, Harran, and of course Assur. These cities all were situated within the boundaries of the first expansion of the “Land of Aššur” in the thirteenth century bc (­chapter 32 in volume 3), and one may perhaps see their inhabitants’ designation by nisba terms as an expression of esteem for these places that can be seen as the pillars of the Assyrian state. All these people were counted among the “Assyrians.”131

129. Fales 2013: 66–​69. 130. For references, see Bagg 2007; 2017; 2020. The nisba terms are used in parallel with designations as “son of ” a particular city. If there is a distinction in usage, it is not clear to us. E.g., Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 97: ll. 1−5: “[To the king], our lord: your servants, the mayors, the city scribe, the principals of the city Assur and the citizens of the Inner City (URU.ŠÀ.URU-​a-​a), young and old,” and any number of attestations in legal documents, e.g., Arbela: Mattila 2002: no. 425: rev. 24; or Nineveh: Kwasman and Parpola 1991: no. 86: rev. 17; Mattila 2002: no. 215: rev. 10; no. 308: 6. 131. See also Fales 2009−2010 (published 2015).

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In the archival texts and in the royal inscriptions, three different markers of “Assyrian” identity are employed, with the last two designations predominantly attested in the royal inscriptions: • the nisba term “Assyrian,” in Assyrian (KUR.)Aššurāyu and in Babylonian (KUR.)Aššurî, used in most of the references in the archival texts; • mār māt Aššur, written logographically DUMU KUR.Aš-​šur: “son of Assyria,” denoting a person of Assyrian descent; and • nīš māt Aššur, written logographically UN.MEŠ KUR.Aš-​šur: “people of Assyria.” The nisba “Assyrian” was used as an institutional-​hierarchical marker in order to distinguish men serving in the imperial forces. The succession treaty of Esarhaddon of 672 bc (section 40.3.2) was designed to bind all subjects of the Assyrian crown in loyalty to Esarhaddon and his chosen successor, and to this end addresses not only the “Assyrians” (Aššurāyê) but also the “subjects of Assyria” (dāgil pāni ša māt Aššur, “those attending to the Land of Aššur”),132 with this expression referring to the people of the client states of Assyria under the indirect control of the empire. The status of “Assyrian” implied a privileged standing, as is clear from a letter addressed to Esarhaddon that concerns the conditions for appealing directly to the king (abat šarri zakāru, “to call for the word of the king”). One scenario specifies: If one is a servant of an Assyrian (ur-​du ša Aš-​šur-​a-​a), his master should be told in no uncertain terms, “He rests in the king’s protection—​nobody may litigate against him!”133

132. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 6: l. 162. 133. Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 64: ll. 8−11.

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As emphasized by Simonetta Ponchia, To be an Assyrian, even in a subordinate position, meant to be included within the sphere of royal protection, which, at least in theory, was extended to deportees regarded as Assyrians.134 On the other hand, the loyalty oath on behalf of Ashurbanipal by his powerful grandmother Naqi’a/​Zakutu identified as the contracted parties the members of the royal family (“royal seed”), the magnates and governors, the “bearded men” and eunuchs, the royal entourage,135 the members of the standing army,136 and “all those who enter the palace,” summing this up comprehensively with “the sons of Assyria, lowly and great.”137 In contrast to the more inclusive nisba designation, the term “son of Assyria” served to designate specifically people who were born as Assyrians, in opposition to those who became Assyrian later in life. This is stated explicitly in an inscription of Sargon II in the context of assembling the inhabitants for his new capital city of Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad), with the people of Assyrian stock singled out as serving as models to all others who were settled there as deportees: The people of the Four (Quarters of the World), of alien tongue and divergent speech, inhabitants of (both) mountains and lowlands . . . , whom I had carried off as booty by the power of my staff at the command of the god Aššur, my lord, I made act in concert and resettled them in its (i.e., Dur-​Šarrukin’s) midst. I dispatched to them “sons of Assyria” (DUMU.MEŠ KUR.Aš-​šur.

134. Ponchia 2020: 116–​117. 135. The term used here is mazzāz pāni, “those who stand before (the king);” see Groß and Pirngruber 2014: 162–​163. 136. The term used here is zakkû; see section 40.3.2. 137. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 8: ll. 8−9: DUMU.MEŠ KUR.Aš-​šur LÚ.qal-​ lu LÚ.dan-​nu.

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KI), masters of every craft, as overseers and commanders, to teach them correct behavior and to revere god and king (alike).138 While the first part of this passage has often been viewed as a negative mirror image of the biblical narrative of the confusion of tongues as a result of the construction of the Tower of Babel,139 the last part of the passage underscores the difference between the king’s Assyrian-​born subjects—​for whom the duties to the state and an unconditional reverence for the ruler and the main Assyrian deities should be second nature—​and the newly integrated population groups, who need to be guided toward this Assyrian way of life. This distinction between Assyrian-​born and foreign-​born subjects is made even more explicit in a letter from a member of the clergy of the city of Assur who addressed a complaint to Esarhaddon about shepherds who were lax in their duty to deliver sheep to the temple (where sheep were routinely needed for sacrifice): If these people, who are sons of Assyria (DUMU.MEŠ KUR.Aš-​ šur), refuse to fear the king, my lord, how will the sons of (other) countries (DUMU.MEŠ KUR.KUR) behave toward the king, my lord?140 In the royal inscriptions, the nisba and the other terms for “Assyrians” were employed dynamically to emphasize the process whereby foreign peoples were incorporated into the Assyrian Empire.141 Since 138. Frame 2021: no. 8: ll. 49−53. 139. Gen 11:1–​9. For an interpretation as a metaphor for the reordering and imposing of collective obedience, see most recently Boyd 2019, who dates the biblical narrative to the time of the Assyrian Empire; similarly Machinist 1993: 96. But note also Liverani 2017a: 160, who interprets the Assyrian passage as the “untranslatable speech” of barbarians, “alien (and recalcitrant) to the hierarchical structure of kingship.” 140. Cole and Machinist 1998: no. 19: rev. 3−6. 141. As discussed by Oded 1979: 77, 83, 85; Machinist 1993; Fales 2009−2010 (published 2015).

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the time of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc), this incorporation is described as “counting” (manû) the new additions together with the already extant Assyrians in the royal inscriptions as “people of my land,” i.e., Assyria: I took the remaining 6,000 of their troops who had fled from my weapons and submitted to me and counted them as people of my land.142 Under Ashurnasirpal II, who transformed his realm into the political structure that we today call the Assyrian Empire, this topos was expanded to make the power structures and obligations more explicit, as here in a passage concerning the region of Zamua/​Mazamua: I counted (the people) from the Babitu Pass to Mount Hašmar as people of my land. In the lands over which I gained dominion, I always appointed my governors. They (i.e., the people) performed servitude and I imposed upon them corvée.143 In the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III, the obligations of these newly minted Assyrians were explicitly likened to those of the extant Assyrian population, now called explicitly “people of Assyria (nīš māt Aššur): I counted them as people of Assyria (UN.MEŠ KUR.Aš-​šur), and I imposed upon them corvée labor like that of the Assyrians (Áš-​šú-​ri).144 And in the inscriptions of Sargon II, their duties were described as pulling the king’s yoke (section 40.5):

142. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: i 85−88. 143. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 124−125. 144. E.g., Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 14: ll. 9−10.

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I set a eunuch of mine as provincial governor over them, and counted them as people of Assyria (UN.MEŠ KUR.Aš-​šur.KI). They now pull my yoke.145 The inscriptions of the succeeding kings made no use of the topos of the incorporation and assimilation of foreign peoples, although the expression “people of Assyria” continued to be used in other contexts, e.g., when describing the parties swearing loyalty oaths to the ruler, as Esarhaddon says here: the people of Assyria (UN.MEŠ KUR.Aš-​šur.KI), who had sworn by the treaty an oath bound by the great gods concerning me, came before me and kissed my feet.146 This passage recalls the previously mentioned passages in this king’s succession treaty, with their juxtaposition of “Assyrians” (Aššurāyê) and “subjects of Assyria,” and that of his mother Naqi’a/​Zakutu, which sought to guarantee the loyalty of the “sons of Assyria” on behalf of Ashurbanipal. The Assyrian sources yield a rich and nuanced profile of what it means to be “Assyrian” in various contexts. The royal inscriptions record the continuously proactive and ultimately optimistic royal impulse to multiply the Assyrians and to expand “Assyrianness” through the addition of foreign-​born people—​despite the unavoidable changes to their realm. As Paul-​Alain Beaulieu stressed, Assyria was faced with the paradoxical fact that, as the empire expanded and more and more people were made Assyrian, the conquered peoples were making Assyria less and less Assyrian culturally and linguistically.147

145. E.g., Frame 2021: no. 3: l. 12′−13′. 146. Leichty 2011: no. 14: ll. 80−81. 147. Beaulieu 2006: 188.

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The royal inscriptions consistently portray the Assyrian identity as an aspirational privilege and a major boon conferred by the ruler on newly integrated peoples of the empire, tied to the acceptance of all the obligations of the king’s subjects, most importantly taxation and conscription. The passage concerning the inhabitants of Dur-​Šarrukin, as well as some of the archival documents discussed, also emphasize the prestigious status of being born Assyrian, and it is noteworthy that the relatively limited testimonials available “from below” stress the legal and social benefits of being Assyrian, whether by birth or by having been made Assyrian later in life. As far as the sources tell us, there was no formal or ceremonial occasion that would have marked becoming “Assyrian” for the individual beyond the collectively sworn loyalty oaths to the crown that are attested from the reign of Sennacherib onward.

40.5.2.  People of foreign origin In this section, we will focus on people associated with polities located beyond the provincial boundaries of the Assyrian Empire,148 by using two examples. Our first example is the Philistines, who according to the biblical testimony settled in the cities of Gaza, Ashdod, Ashkelon, Ekron, and Gath.149 During the reign of Tiglath-​pileser III, the governor of the newly created Assyrian province of Ṣimirra on the Phoenician coast informed his king that he reminded the people of the Phoenician city-​state of Sidon, who had been cutting timber (crucial for shipbuilding) in the Lebanon mountains, that the trade of timber with the neighboring polities was strictly forbidden: Bring down your timber, and perform work on it, but do not sell it to the Egyptians (KUR.Mu-​ṣur-​a-​a) or the Philistines

148. Radner 2008a. 149. Cf. Machinist 2000; Singer 2013. The earliest Assyrian evidence of the place name “Philistia” appears in a summary list of conquests of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc): Grayson 1996: A.0.104.8: l. 12: KUR.Pa-​la-​as-​tú.

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(KUR.Pa-​la-​áš-​ta-​a), or I shall no more allow you to go up to the mountain!150 Between the 730s and 720s bc, the Philistines came increasingly under Assyrian control, and during the reign of Sargon II, the imperial forces include a unit of “Philistines” (KUR.Pi-​lis-​ta-​a-​a) stationed near Arbela.151 These two Assyrian sources indicate that the Philistines, despite their parallel identities as the inhabitants of five specific cities in the southern Levant, could still be designated by a joint nisba, and other Assyrian sources indicate that they may have benefited socially and politically from this unified identity. A clause in the (only fragmentarily preserved) treaty of 676 bc between Esarhaddon and Ba‘alu, king of Tyre, suggests particularly close economic and commercial ties between the “land of the Philistines” and the Assyrian Empire:152 If there is a ship of Ba‘alu or the people of Tyre that is shipwrecked off the land of the Philistines (KUR.Pi-​lis-​ti) or within Assyrian territory (ta-​hu-​me ša KUR.Aš-​šur.KI), everything that is on the ship belongs to Esarhaddon, king of Assyria; however, one must not do any harm to any person on board the ship but one must return them all to their country.153 A rather different example is provided by the Arabs (Arbāyu, or Arabî; see c­ hapter 52 in volume 5),154 who stand out among other kinship-​based population groups in contact with the Assyrian Empire155 because of the 150. Luukko 2012: no. 22: obv. 24–​rev. 2. 151. Parpola 1987: no. 155. 152. Note also the finds from Tell Jemmeh near Gaza, where the abundance of Assyrian-​style pottery excavated may point to a “local late Philistine elite, who desired material that emulated styles that had an association with Assyria, or, who sought to be identified as ‘Assyrian’ citizens”: Ben-​Shlomo 2014: 84. 153. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 5: rev. iii 15′-​17′. 154. Eph‘al 1982; Frahm 2017. 155. For such tribalist population groups, including the Arameans and Chaldeans, see Fales 2017; 2019.

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profoundly negative relationship that defined their interactions with the Assyrian Empire from the earliest encounters onward. Their use of dromedaries allowed them wide-​ranging mobility and effective use of the long-​distance trade routes leading from the fertile southern parts of the Arabian Peninsula through the Hejaz region along its western coast to the southern Levant and the Euphrates valley, making them a desirable trade partner but also a security risk, particularly in the southwestern and southeastern parts of the Assyrian interest sphere. The Assyrian sources mention the Arabs for the first time in 853 bc, as part of a western alliance against the Assyrian forces led by Shalmaneser III during the Battle of Qarqar (section 40.3.1). After more than a century of silence, the next extant attestation refers to 738 bc when Zabibê, the “queen of the Arabs,” was listed among the western rulers forced to pay a heavy tribute to Tiglath-​pileser III,156 as did, five years later, another queen, Samsî of the Qedarites, who moreover had to accept the presence of a representative of the Assyrian king (Assyrian qēpu) in her entourage.157 During the reign of Sargon II, letters from the state correspondence give us insight into the challenges of trying to keep the Arabs at bay. They were active in the far north, not only deep in the Syrian Desert, but also in the Jezirah region between Euphrates and Tigris.158 Thus, the worried governor of the province of Assur wrote to the king: Regarding the Arabs [about whom the king my lord] wrote to me, saying, “[Why] do they graze [their sheep] and camel[s in the desert where they must resort to plundering] when hungry?”—​ [Rains have been sca]rce this [year . . . ]; they have been settling in [ . . . ]. As to what the king my lord wrote to me, saying, “Now, go to Hinzanu (i.e., Hindanu), and let them go and graze with you! There shall be no restrictions from the banks of the Tharthar river up to the land of Suhu!”—​I will now go to Hinzanu, (but)

156. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: iii 19−23, and parallels. 157. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 49: rev. 17−22, and parallels. 158. Fales 2002.

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they (are sure to) leave the territory I am assigning to them, move further downstream and plunder. They pay absolutely no heed to the chief scout I have appointed.159 With the Arabs proving to be such difficult neighbors, it was with obvious relief that Sargon’s governors could send “no news is good news” reports to the king, like this fragmentary example from central Syria: My [guard] is in excellent condition, the who[le district] of [Hamath] is well. [The king] my [lord] can be glad. We have not heard anything s[pecific] about the [Ara]bs s[ince the king] my lord [went] to [ . . . ]; all is well.160 In the seventh century bc, the relationship between the Assyrian Empire and the Arabs grew ever more hostile, particularly because of the links they entertained with the empire’s enemies in Babylonia and Elam. On the other hand, Esarhaddon found it necessary to rely on the cooperation of Arab guides in order to manage his troops’ difficult passage through the deserts of the Negev and Sinai when invading Egypt in 671 bc.161 The Arab tribe of Qedar in particular provided troops for the imperial army during this king’s reign (see below in this section), and after a conflict around 652 bc, his son and successor Ashurbanipal enforced a treaty on the Qedarites.162 When the Qedarites were accused of breaking the treaty, a new conflict arose, which became the subject of the decorative program in one of the rooms of Ashurbanipal’s North Palace in Nineveh.163 In these battle

159. Parpola 1987: no. 82: obv. 5−rev. 4. 160. Parpola 1987: no. 173: obv. 4−rev. 1. 161. Radner 2008b. 162. This treaty is one of a few such texts to have survived in the original: Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 10. 163. For the reconstruction of the wall decoration in Room L of the North Palace, see Dubovský 2009.

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scenes, the Arabs are deliberately marked as a deeply foreign people and depicted as technologically and culturally less advanced than the Assyrian forces. They are shown bareheaded and scantily clad with short skirts, riding astride their camels in pairs with mere sticks to steer the animals, and firing their arrows haphazardly at the oncoming imperial troops, whose armored archers are protected by shield bearers, while shielded and armored spearmen engage those Arab enemies who had tumbled off their mounts in hand-​to-​hand combat. This derogatory depiction of the Arab forces is accompanied by a scene illustrating the Assyrian attack on an Arab campsite, which depicts the tents set on fire,164 the slaughter of men and women, and in a completely unique and gruesomely violent scene, pregnant women being cut open and their unborn children ripped from their wombs.165 In image and word, the Assyrian sources exhibit a markedly negative bias against those viewed and described as Arabs. Nisba terms are of particular relevance in the Assyrian documentation in their application to members of foreign population groups that fought for the empire as part of the imperial forces. These attestations demonstrate that participation in the Assyrian army did not in itself constitute a privileged avenue to becoming “Assyrian,” and also that from the Assyrian crown’s perspective, ethnicity alone was not a constitutive factor of “citizenship” (section 40.5.2). This point is made clear in a letter from the state correspondence of Sargon II, which lists the personnel of the imperial forces, mustered in the 164. This is also described in Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions: “They (i.e., the Assyrian forces) cut the people of the land of the Arabs, as many as had risen up against me, down with the sword (and) set fire to pavilion(s and) tents, their abodes, (and thus)consigned (them) to the god Gira”; see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: viii i−4. 165. This drastically contrasts with the usual depictions of the deliberately measured and nonviolent behavior of the Assyrian forces in regard to the civilian population; for discussions, see Nadali 2004 (who stresses the prominent role of women in Arab society) and Dubovský 2009 (who links these depictions to the physical effects of the curses stipulated in the Assyrian treaty documents against those who would violate them). For a comparison with 2 Kgs 15, 16, according to which Menahem, the future king of Israel, “attacked Tiphsah and everyone in the city and its vicinity, because they refused to open their gates. He sacked Tiphsah and ripped open all the pregnant women,” see Cogan 1983.

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province of Zamua/​Mazamua on the western slopes of the Zagros range (centered on the Shahrizor Plain near modern Sulaymaniyah in the Kurdish Autonomous Region of Iraq).166 The head count, which represented only one part of the army assembled for a campaign into western Iran, is given as 630 Assyrians (KUR.Aš-​šur-​a-​a) as well as 360 Gurreans and 440 Itu’eans, for a total of 1,430 “King’s Men” (ṣāb šarri; see section 40.3.1). At that time, the Itu’eans and the Gurreans were among the most frequently mentioned non-​Assyrian units of the imperial forces.167 The Itu’eans (Assyrian Itu’āyu) originated from an Aramean tribal population group on the middle reaches of the Euphrates, mentioned as early as 885 bc in the inscriptions of Tukulti-​Ninurta II (890–​884 bc) as “the city of Itu at the bitumen well” on the bank of the Euphrates;168 this suggests identification with Hit, until today famous for its bitumen wells. Subsequent Assyrian expeditions against the “land of Utu’/​Itu’ ” are recorded in the early eighth century bc by Šamši-​ilu, the powerful commander-​in-​chief (turtānu) serving under Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc),169 and the Itu’eans prominently feature in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III, who either singled them and the Rubu’eans out among “all the Arameans” under his control,170 or else lists them as the very first group in his lengthy list of Aramean tribes.171 Afterwards, the Itu’eans appear regularly in archival texts as infantry units serving in the Assyrian army.172

166. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 215. For discussions, see Postgate 2000; Marriott and Radner 2015: 128–​129, 134–​136. On Zamua/​Mazamua, see most recently Yamada 2020. 167. According to Luukko 2019b: 93, there are some 100 mentions for the Itu’eans, and only 35 for the Gurreans. 168. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: ll. 60−61. 169. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2010: l. 10. 170. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: l. 5 and no. 53: l. 3. 171. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 40: l. 4, no. 47: obv. 5, no. 51: l. 5 and no. 52: l. 5. 172. For recent discussions of the Itu’eans, see Desző 2012: 32–​37; Fales 2017: 155–​ 162; Luukko 2019b. Note also an administrative text presumably dated to the reign of Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) that mentions commodities given to the KUR.U-​tu-​’a-​a-​a; see Ismail 1989: 62.

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On the other hand, nothing is known about the geographical origins of the Gurreans (Assyrian Gurrāyu), or their linguistic affiliation or social structure, as they do not occur in the royal inscriptions before we encounter them in the service of the imperial forces. From the available attestations it is clear, however, that they were often employed alongside the Itu’eans. In the depictions on the palace wall decorations, they have been identified with two different types of foot-​soldiers: the Itu’eans with the lightly armed archers equipped with bows, narrow quivers, and the customary dagger used by all imperial troops, bare-​headed and wearing only short kilts, and the Gurreans with the spearmen, also lightly armed with spears and daggers but better armored with a shield, helmets, and round breastplates fixed with crossed straps.173 Thus combined, they formed a highly functional contingent. According to state letters from the late eighth and seventh centuries bc, they were usually dispatched in groups of a few dozen men for tasks that did not require much manpower, and frequently in border areas and/​or for guard or surveillance duties, such as monitoring the cutting of timber or the building of fortifications.174 While this does not necessarily imply that the Itu’eans and Gurreans were mobile troops assigned to frequently changing locations,175 it certainly suggests that their presence was spread far across the imperial lands, allowing them to always be at the beck and call of the authorities in charge. This could lead to conflicts of interest, as reported in the following peeved message from the governor of Tušhan (modern Ziyaret Tepe), who complained to Sargon II that he had been divested of the Itu’ean troops that he would rather have kept in his province: As to the Itu’eans concerning whom the king, my lord, wrote me, did I ask for troops? I [actually] had written to the king, my lord, as follows: “Of the Itu’eans in my country, there is an 173. Reade 1972; Nadali 2005. 174. E.g., in the letters from the correspondence of Sargon II: Parpola 1987: no. 93; Fuchs and Parpola 2001: no. 136. 175. As suggested by Luukko 2019b: 98–​99.

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extra quota of 500 men who should have kept watch with me. Why [did they g]o [to] Guzana? Let them give back the men to me!”176 Some elements of the Itu’eans’ original tribal social structure were retained since they were divided into “houses” led by their own “sheikhs” (nasīku), who were held responsible for their men.177 Possibly as remuneration for their services,178 they could hold land, even entire rural districts (nagû), within the Assyrian provinces.179 The same applied to Gurreans, according to a fragmentary list of estates from Nineveh that names several military men: 40 hectares of land in the town of Ṣelâ, assigned to Kalhayu, the royal guardsman; 40 hectares of land in the town of Apiani, assigned to Barbiri, the Gurrean [ . . . ].180 Individual Itu’eans and Gurreans could hold the title of “prefect” (šaknu),181 and at least one Gurrean held the title of commander-​of-​ fifty (rab hanšê).182 These were both Assyrian army ranks, although it is unclear whether these officers would have held authority over men of lesser rank also from other contingents of the imperial forces, or only

176. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 21: rev. 9–​23. 177. According to a letter to Sargon II edited by Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 3: rev. 10–​16. 178. Postgate 2000: 100–​104. 179. Note in a letter from Sargon II’s correspondence: “The Itu’eans who hold [land] in the province,” and “The Itu’eans hold a whole district in the province of Kurba’il”: Luukko 2012: no. 176: obv. 6–​7, rev. 5–​7. 180. Fales and Postgate 1995: no. 228: ii 4′-​9′. 181. Itu’ean prefects: Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 16: obv. 4; Cole and Machinist 1998: no. 33: obv. 9–​12 (see immediately below); Gurrean prefect: Mattila 2002: no. 425: rev. 18. 182. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 53; see immediately below.

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their own. In the extant state letters, the officers of Itu’ean and Gurrean units were typically singled out personally when they stood accused of crimes and misdemeanors. Hence, in a letter sent by a priest and the mayor of Assur to Esarhaddon, two Itu’ean officers were described as badly abusing the power that came with their guard over one of the city gates of Assur: Bibiya, the prefect of the Itu’eans, and Tarditu-​Aššur, the prefect of the Itu’eans, his deputy, sit outside the Inner City (i.e., Assur), in front of the gate, eating [bread] together, drinking wine, and squandering the exit-​dues of the Inner City. When I opened negotiations with them, they grabbed the first-​fruits (rēšāti, a type of temple offering), mistreated me, and (only) let my garments go back to me. I am not strong enough to overcome them.183 And in a letter from Sargon’s correspondence, a Gurrean officer emerges not only as a murderer, but also a deserter who fled to Assyria’s archenemy, the kingdom of Urartu centered on the eastern Anatolian highlands (­chapter 44 in this volume): A commander-​of-​fifty of mine, of the Gurreans from Me-​Turnat, killed the mayor of Me-​Turnat. From the moment the expedition came, he did not show up to do work with his fellows but, afraid of his deed, took with him 15 Gurreans and went away to Urartu.184 The Itu’eans can be described as members of a tribalist Aramean population group that, after falling under the Assyrian Empire’s control, provided specialized troops to the imperial army as auxiliary forces.185 It

183. Cole and Machinist 1998: no. 33: obv. 9–​rev. 11. 184. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 53: obv. 4–​9. 185. We deliberately avoid the term “mercenaries,” with Reade 2019: 452, who notes that “it may be helpful to disregard the connotations of one or another English-​ language word and to treat ‘full-​time professional soldiers’ as by definition ‘mercenaries.’ ”

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remains entirely unclear whether the Gurreans, too, were of Aramean origin,186 although there is every reason to assume that their participation in the Assyrian armed forces resulted from similar arrangements. Within the wider perspective, Itu’ean and Gurrean troops represented only the tip of the iceberg, as a great many other foreign units operated within the imperial forces during the eighth and seventh centuries bc. Among the earliest documents recording the incorporation of foreign troops is an administrative list from Kalhu that can be dated to Tiglath-​pileser III’s Babylonian campaigns of 731–​729 bc, listing almost 4,000 men recruited from different polities of Babylonia (mainly the Chaldean tribes) and their intended destinations in various provinces of the Assyrian Empire.187 The integration of foreign units into the Assyrian army, especially its cavalry and chariotry, continued under Sargon II, who, e.g., stated in one of his inscriptions that he added a unit of fifty chariots from conquered Samaria to his “Royal Cohort” (kiṣir šarri). This statement is supported by the fact that officers from Samaria are mentioned in administrative texts from Fort Shalmaneser (the armory of Kalhu) that document the mustering of the armed forces for dispatch against Babylonia ca. 710–​708 bc.188 Other officers in the same list are described as Chaldean (i.e., from the tribal population groups from southern Mesopotamia).189 In the following century, Sennacherib reported integrating Judeans, Arameans, Chaldeans, and Elamites into the Royal Cohort (figure 40.7).190 Esarhaddon included

186. Luukko 2019b: 94 (with previous literature). Note that in a legal text from Ma’allanate, seven Gurreans are listed with a mixture of Assyrian and Aramean names: Homès-​Fredericq and Garelli 2018: 99–​100. 187. Parker 1961: 38, pl. XIX: ND 2619; see Desző 2016: 41, fig. 14. Several letters from Tiglath-​pileser’s correspondence concern Larak, one of the places from where these troops were mustered: Luukko 2012: nos. 84, 101, and 151. 188. For the relevant evidence from inscriptions and archival texts and its discussion, see Radner 2018: 113–​117. 189. Dalley and Postgate: no. 99: obv. 15. 190. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 4: ll. 9−10, and parallels.

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Figure 40.7.  An archer and a spearman of the royal guard of Sennacherib, marked as Levantine troops by their headscarves. Note the detailed depiction of their attire, such as the boots and stockings. British Museum, ANE 124901. From the Southwest Palace in Nineveh, one of a group of panels depicting Sennacherib and his entourage found between the palace and the Ištar temple, presumably originally lining a corridor used to visit the temple from the palace. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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Egyptians191 and Ashurbanipal Elamites in their forces.192 That such information from the royal inscriptions is reliable is clear from the frequent mention of such foreign military men in the contemporary archival texts, especially private legal documents.193 Beyond the Royal Cohort, such foreign troops could also be assigned to other contingents, as this inscription of Esarhaddon describes for military personnel as well as agricultural workers from the Anatolian kingdom of Šubria: [I examin]ed and selected [ . . . ], soldiers, skilled in battle and combat, from [ . . . ] and I attached (them) to my royal guard. With regard to [ . . . ], stand-​by charioteers, stand-​by cavalry, commanders of stables, officials, craftsmen, troops, light troops, shield bearers, scouts, (down to) farmers, shepherds, and orchard keepers—​[I add]ed (them) in great numbers to the massive forces of the god Aššur and to the guard of the former kings, my ancestors, and I filled Assyria in its entirety like a quiver. I distributed the re[st of them] like sheep and goats among my palaces, my nobles, the entourage of my palace, and [the citizens of Ninev]eh, Kalhu, Kilizu, and Arbela.194 The most extensive enumerations of the foreign units within the imperial forces and at the royal court can be found in a group of oracle queries that asked the sun god Šamaš, the patron deity of divination, for guidance in important state matters. In these texts from the late reign

191. Leichty 2011: no. 9: ll. 7′−8′. 192. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 7: ll. 57′−59′, and parallels. 193. E.g., Elamite “third men” of the chariotry (Fales and Postgate 1992: no. 152), Samarian charioteers (Kwasman and Parpola 1991: no. 34), and Cimmerian officers (Kwasman and Parpola 1991: no. 204). 194. Leichty 2011: no. 33: iii 14′−22′; see the discussions of Baker 2017b: 23; Ponchia 2017: 161.

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of Esarhaddon, everyone who might conceivably conspire against the king and attempt to overthrow the royal dynasty were routinely listed,195 presumably in order to deter them from any such action. The following nisba terms are included, with an asterisk indicating those groups that are attested only in some of the queries,196 representing all foreign population groups so far discussed in this section (Philistines, Arabs, Itu’eans, and Gurreans), as well as people from the most important territories neighboring the Assyrian Empire and some regions much further afield.197 • “Akkadians” (traditional designation for Babylonians); • Arameans (called Ahlamû, their traditional designation);198 • Cimmerians (­chapter 43 in this volume); • Egyptians; • Elamites (­chapter 42 in this volume); • Gurreans; • “Hittites” (traditional designation for people from northern Syria and southeastern Anatolia; see ­chapter 46 in this volume); • Itu’eans; • Kushites (i.e., Nubians; see ­chapter 36 in this volume); • Manneans* (­chapter 43 in this volume); • Medes* (­chapter 43 in this volume); • Philistines*; • Qedarites (an Arab tribe); • Sidonians*; and • Yasbuqeans (an Arab tribe).

195. Starr 1990: nos. 139−145. For dating these texts to 672–​670 BC see Starr 1990: lxiii. 196. In addition, there is a further group designated in logographic spelling as LÚ. GIŠ.BAN.TAG.GA.MEŠ =​ māḫiṣāni, “archers”; see Baker 2017a: 52. 197. For a more detailed discussion, see Fales 2010: 151–​153. 198. For Ahlamû as an archaic designation for Arameans, see, e.g., Fales 2017.

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40.5.3.  The testimony of personal names The Assyrian Empire exhibited a diffuse tolerance regarding its linguistically and culturally diverse component communities, with no evident restrictions to their activities, neither in cities nor in the countryside, and neither in the private nor in the public or professional spheres. In the following, we shall draw on the over 5,000 personal names contained in the textual sources of the Assyrian Empire in order to attempt to flesh out how these diverse communities of Assyrian and non-​Assyrian groups coexisted within imperial society.199 A feature of ancient Near Eastern onomastics in general is that personal names have a grammatical structure that conveys information in the form of words or entire clauses that was fully intelligible to contemporary society.200 Such names were typically composed in the language of the bearer, or perhaps rather of his or her parents, who bestowed the names on their offspring at birth. Thus, personal names are an immensely useful source of information as to which language(s) were in use in a particular family or in the wider community. In addition, ancient Near Eastern personal names have been described as a “multiple metaphor,” since they were not only used to identify and single out the bearer as a specific individual (like all proper names), but because their content moreover reflected various shared core values within their social and/​or cultural milieu. These meanings might be related to religion and cult, or reference kinship (most prominently, father, son, brother, paternal or maternal uncle) and other social and ideological concepts of relationship (e.g., ubru “guest,” or kalbu “dog”), as well as places of origin and ethnicity (section 40.5), professions, or

199. All personal names from texts of the Neo-​Assyrian period are collected in the six volumes of The Prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire: Radner (ed.) 1998–​1999; Baker (ed.) 2000–​2001; 2002–​2011. The great majority of these names derive from archival texts, especially legal documents, as the royal inscriptions record almost exclusively the names of foreign leaders, mentioning only very few of the Assyrian officials by name. 200. Eidem 2004: 191. For personal names as a source for Median society and culture, see ­chapter 43 in this volume.

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elements of physical appearance and behavioral characteristics (both positive and negative).201 What can we learn from the onomastics of the Assyrian Empire? Names in Akkadian, and specifically in the Assyrian form of that language, were particularly abundant in the core region of the empire, in the cities as well as in the countryside. The primary marker of such names is the presence of Assyrian deities, particularly the national god Aššur, the widely worshipped deities Ištar and Nabû, the warrior god Ninurta, and the sun god Šamaš: these and other gods appeared in the sentences forming these names as the recipients of expressions of gratitude for successful childbirth, or of general supplications and assertions of faith, but also of exhortations to benefit king and country. Some typical examples are: Aššur-​muballiṭ (“Aššur is the one who keeps alive”), Aššur-​remanni (“O Aššur, have mercy on me!”), Aššur-​šaddu’a (“Aššur is my mountain”); Aššur-​matu-​taqqin (“O Aššur, keep the country in order!”); or Ištar-​lâ-​tašiat (“Do not neglect Ištar!”); Ištar-​šumu-​lešir (“O Ištar, may the name prosper!”); or Nabû-​šezibanni (“O Nabû, save me!”); Nabû-​ šarru-​uṣur (“O Nabû, protect the king!”); or Ninurta-​uṣalli (“I prayed to Ninurta”); or Šamaš-​tuklatu’a (”Šamaš is my support”). The frequent use of so-​called substitute names marked events of medical-​historical relevance to the family, most frequently neonatal death,202 when the newborn child was celebrated as a replacement, or substitute, for one or more siblings (typically brothers) who had died prematurely or were stillborn.203 Perhaps the most famous bearer of such a substitute name is King Sennacherib, in Assyrian Sin-​ahhē-​erība, which means “The god Sin has replaced the (dead) brothers.” Assyrian “profane” names typically consisted of only one word and made use of a wealth of terms from the contemporary vocabulary, including designations for animals, plants, precious items, and containers

201. For a survey, see Edzard et al. 2001. 202. On the medical complexities of childbirth in the Assyrian Empire, see Couto-​ Ferreira 2014. 203. Stamm 1939: 4–​5 and passim.

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(perhaps in comparison to body shape), as well as physiognomic or behavioral descriptions (both positive and negative).204 Another group of typically Assyrian names consists of sentences that feature Assyrian social institutions or ideological notions, especially through expressions of praise for the king (šarru) or more generally the master (bēlu) as protector of mankind, or as the protégé of the gods. Examples are Šarru-​duri (“The king is my protective wall”), Šarru-​kettu-​irâm (“The king loves truth”); or Šarru-​šir-​ilani (“The king is the very flesh of the gods”). It is possible that names celebrating the king or master were bestowed upon the boys who had been rendered eunuchs in order to gain access and employment at the royal court, and that such names thus superseded the ones given at birth.205 Altogether, the prospect that individuals could have borne more than one name in the course of their lifetime, through the use of nicknames or secondary names, should not be ruled out, although there is no clear evidence for this. The second major onomastic group in use in the Assyrian Empire were names in various Northwest Semitic languages, and especially in Aramaic. Canaanite names, i.e., in Phoenician, Hebrew, and Moabite, are attested too, albeit in much smaller numbers, as are a handful of names in Arabic, a Southwest Semitic language.206 All these names are marked by a shorter sentence structure than found in Akkadian names, and typically consisted of invocations of grace, salvation, healing, or redemption addressed to various deities (often different from the gods worshipped in the temples in the Assyrian heartland207), or references to the godlike attributes of dead kin (especially father, brother, and

204. For such names that mainly consist of only one word, see Gaspa 2008. 205. Baker 2002: 4–​6 (with previous literature). 206. In general, see Zadok 1977. 207. However, due to cultural entanglement and syncretism, many of the deities in West Semitic names have a clear correspondence in the Assyrian deities, notably the storm god Adad =​Addu/​Dad, the moon god Sin =​Se’/​Sehr, and the light god Nusku =​Našuh/​Našhu, while the moon god’s consort Nikkal is common to both linguistic-​cultural groups.

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uncles), while “profane” names made use of various non-​Akkadian lexical items.208 Names in these languages could be given, or at least used, as diminutives or familiar forms (“pet names”). Such abbreviated names (dubbed “hypocoristics”) are relatively abundant and sometimes bear little resemblance to the underlying original name (cf. “Jack” for “John,” or “Bob” for “Robert”). Assyrian scribes transcribed Northwest Semitic and Arabic names into cuneiform script, often following established conventions but frequently also using impromptu and sometimes quite clumsy spellings; this is linguistically illuminating, especially when compared with parallel attestations from coeval alphabetic texts in Aramaic, Phoenician, or Hebrew. The percentage of West Semitic names is most abundant in the northwestern parts of the empire’s provinces, which were reintegrated in the tenth and ninth centuries bc after having been occupied by Aramean population groups for about two centuries (­chapter 37 in this volume). The existence of an Aramaic-​language community is evident in the onomastics of the region surrounding the city of Harran, where the traditional Mesopotamian cult of the moon god Sîn, with its ancient temple,209 was profoundly shaped by the deity’s identification with various Aramean gods. This community was documented in an extensive administrative register of land and people that is today known as the “Harran Census.” Most probably it was compiled during the reign of Sargon II.210 Data from this document match evidence from the nearby

208. Fales 1991b; Zadok 1995. 209. See most recently Novotny 2020. 210. For the texts of the “Harran Census,” which were excavated as part of the royal archives at Nineveh, see Fales and Postgate 1995: nos. 201–​220. For an overview and a discussion of these texts’ socioeconomic data, see Fales 2014. For their onomastics in a linguistic-​geographic perspective, see Zadok 1995: 272 (with earlier literature). Note that the documents of the “Harran Census” mention many Gambuleans (Fales and Postgate 1995: nos. 219–​220), i.e., people originating in Gambulu in southeastern Babylonia, presumably resettled in the Balikh area during Sargon II’s campaign of 710–​709 BC, and Gambuleans are still attested in thar region in the Ma’allanate documents of the seventh century bc (some of which are written in Babylonian language, cuneiform script, and tablet format; see Homès-​Fredericq and Garelli 2018: 35–​36).

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city of Huzirina (modern Sultantepe) where a memorandum lists numerous “servants of the goddess Ištar of Huzirina, which the king has given to the god Nusku,”211 i.e., the son of the divine couple Sin and Nikkal. The names of these men, who are sometimes also identified with their patronymic, are almost exclusively West Semitic and mainly consist of compounds featuring the local deities of the moon god cult of Harran.212 The entanglement of Assyrian and Aramean traditions is in clear evidence in the private archives from various sites from the Khabur region (Dur-​Katlimmu/​Magdalu; Guzana) to the Euphrates (Burmarina; Til Barsip),213 and occasionally also from much further west (Marqasu; Sam’al).214 These finds demonstrate the widespread use of private legal documents in the form of clay tablets inscribed in cuneiform script and the Assyrian language, but frequently also in the Aramaic language and alphabetic script. Legal texts in the shape of Aramaic clay tablets are also known from the Assyrian heartland, in particular from Assur and Nineveh,215 where the large-​scale, state-​controlled resettlement of West Semitic population groups, e.g., from Babylonia and the Levant,216

211. Kataja and Whiting 1995: no. 91: obv. 1−2. 212. With a few Luwian additions, possibly “due to the prestige of the cults of the ruling urbanite Luwian class among their Aramean subjects and neighbours”: Zadok 2010: 412. 213. For the texts from Burmarina, see Fales et al. 2005; from Dur-​Katlimmu, see Radner 2002; Röllig 2014; from Guzana, see Friedrich et al. 1940; Dornauer 2014 (including an archive from the context of provincial government); from Til Barsip, see Dalley 1997. For the texts from the unidentified city of Ma’allanate (perhaps in the upper reaches of the Balikh), see Homès-​Fredericq and Garelli 2018. The archive excavated at Tušhan, located on the upper reaches of the Tigris, is from the context of provincial government; for the texts, see Parpola 2007. 214. For the archive from Marqasu (modern Kahramanmaraş), see Günbattı et al. 2020. For the two Assyrian legal texts from Sam’al (modern Zincirlı), see the recent edition of Faist 2013–​2014. For the Assyrian texts from modern Israel, see Horowitz et al. 2018. 215. See, e.g., Fales 2007; 2021b. 216. E.g,. from the former kingdom of Israel to the Assyrian heartland; see Radner 2018: 113–​118.

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caused the influx of a substantial number of people, many of whom spoke West Semitic languages. The parallel use of Assyrian and Aramaic in written and spoken communication constituted a uniquely fitting tool for mastering the daily requirements of living in the empire.217 Other linguistic-​cultural communities are also attested in cities, towns, and villages across the Assyrian Empire, but their impact on the personal names attested in the available evidence is much more limited. Egyptians are known from various Assyrian cities, especially in the heartland, and the mention of “Egyptian scribes” (LÚ.A.BA Muṣurāyu) indicates that one of the contemporary script systems used in the Nile region was used at the Assyrian court, presumably for scholarly purposes (section 40.4).218 Already in the administrative lists from Kalhu from the second half of the eighth century bc, Egyptian scribes are mentioned as recipients of wine rations, together with their Assyrian and Aramean counterparts. Other personnel are also identified as Egyptian.219 Entire Egyptian families, with some members identifiable also by their Egyptian names, were settled in the Assyrian capital city of Nineveh, some as prisoners of war or hostages after the Battle of Eltekeh of 701 bc,220 but most as deportees settled after the Assyrian invasions of Egypt from 672 bc onward.221 As a consequence of these invasions, there was also a considerable community of Egyptians residing in Assur,222 some of

217. Cf. Fales 2007; 2021b; Radner 2021. 218. On the Egyptian scholars at the royal court, see Radner 2009: 223–​226. 219. Kinnier Wilson 1972: nos. 4 and 9; see, e.g., Karlsson 2018: 45. 220. Radner 2012b. 221. Note the private archives of Egyptian families (last edited in Mattila 2002: nos. 424−456) and a list of Egyptian deportees of both sexes: Fales and Postgate 1995: no. 169. 222. On the Egyptians in Assur and their various archives, see most recently Faist 2007: 125–​149; Radner 2016b: 80, 121–​126. A whole “family” (qinnu) of Egyptians is mentioned in a legal document from Assur: Donbaz and Parpola 2001: no. 253.

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whose members were in contact with merchants from the mother country.223 Close political and cultural contacts between the Assyrian Empire and regions within and beyond the Zagros Mountains since the second half of the eighth century bc (­chapter 43 in this volume) are also apparent in the archival texts.224 Private legal documents from Assur attest to the presence of a group of people designated as Hundurāyu (and in one instance, Harharāyu “man from the city of Harhar”), a nisba term based on the toponym Hundur, the name of the region around the city of Kišesim on the Iranian plateau from where people were deported by Sargon II in 716/​715 bc; by the last decades of seventh century bc, the term seems to have been used as a professional designation.225 It is noteworthy that the names of the thirty known Hundurāyê are exclusively Assyrian.226 Four clay tablets inscribed in a peculiar variant of cuneiform and in a language of unclear linguistic affiliation may perhaps represent a further link with the Zagros region or western Iran.227 Also at Assur, a small group of letters in the form of lead strips inscribed in the Anatolian hieroglyphic script (­chapter 46 in this volume) indicates contacts with northern Syria or eastern Anatolia, where this was long the preferred way of writing.228 Peoples from these regions are less well documented,229 although in the northwestern provinces of 223. As documented in a legal text recording a court decision, with numerous witnesses bearing Egyptian names, that involved some Egyptian merchants who had entered the house of one Hakkubaya “as foreign guests” but were later attacked: Donbaz and Parpola 2001: no. 173. 224. For a Mannean cowherd in a legal text from Assur, see Donbaz-​Parpola 2001, no. 10: l. 6. For deportations from Mannea, see Marf 2019. 225. For the term, see Fales and Jakob-​Rost 1991: 21–​26 (with previous literature); Groß 2020: 383. For their origins and their resettlement in Assur, see Zadok 2002: 123–​124; Parpola 2004: 10–​11; Radner 2013: 447–​449. 226. Baker 2017a: 39–​40. 227. Published by Radner 1999: 197–​205. 228. Pedersén 1986: 98–​99. 229. Note Fales and Postgate 1995: no. 167, a list of 977 men, women, and children identified as originating from Que (Cilicia) with the nisba Quwāyu, but without recording their personal names.

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the Assyrian Empire, names are attested that mix West Semitic lexical elements with Anatolian deities, including the god Aramis/​Arwas and the goddess Kubaba.230 Our most informative textual source originated in the provincial capital of Tušhan in the Upper Tigris region and dates to the final decades of the empire. It is a tablet inscribed in four columns of text that list a total of 144 women assigned to various officials, villages, or tasks. Only a small number of these names can be classified as a known language or language group (Akkadian, Luwian, Hurrian, or Iranian), while the vast majority cannot be attributed linguistically; it remains entirely unclear whether these women represented descendants of the original population of this area, or whether they were deportees.231 On the basis of different textual records, we are able to place the testimony of the personal names in the context of different communities and/​ or social settings. The army lists from Fort Shalmaneser in Kalhu, dating to the reign of Sargon II, provide a good example. In one such text, “team commanders” (rab urāte) are listed together with their commanding officers in thirteen sections representing distinct units, identifying 184 individuals by name.232 With 41 names, West Semitic onomastic material is well represented and amounts to, without considering uncertain instances, 22 percent of the total.233 This is not surprising, as this king claimed in his inscriptions to have routinely integrated military personnel from the conquered western regions into the imperial forces (section 40.5.2). A similar text from Nineveh dates to the reign of Esarhaddon and lists 114 individually named military officers, presumably members of the royal court.234 In this particular case, the West Semitic names are

230. See, e.g., Arwas-​ ma’adi; and Kubabu-​ hinni, Kubabu-​ idri, Kubabu-​ sapi, Kubabu-​satar, and Kubabu-​surî; for references, see Radner (ed.) 1998–​1999; Baker (ed.) 2000–​2001. On personal names formed with Anatolian divine elements, see Zadok 2010. 231. For the publication and discussion of this text, see MacGinnis 2012a; 2012b. 232. Dalley and Postgate 1984: no. 99. 233. Fales 1991b: 103. 234. Fales and Postgate 1992: no. 5.

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considerably rarer (fewer than twenty individuals, corresponding to only 17 percent of the total); the vast majority of names are Assyrian, with the divine elements Aššur and Nabû the most common constituent parts. This profile mirrors other texts documenting the palace staff under Esarhaddon.235 This may partly reflect the decline of deportations from the Levant, but it also seems to suggest a more general preference for choosing Assyrian names. Generally speaking, the highest governing elite of the Assyrian Empire from the ninth to the seventh century bc clearly held Assyrian names, as best demonstrated by the fact that only twenty men with non-​Assyrian names ever served as year eponyms (limmu). The names of these individuals were West Semitic, and most served as provincial governors, although there were also a few among the highest state officials,236 namely the viziers (sukkallu) Abi-​râmu and Banbâ, the palace herald (nāgir ekalli) Pada, and the commanders-​in-​chief (turtānu) Aia-​ halu and Mar-​larim.237 Also when looking at the various other offices and professional designations, it becomes clear that while bearers of West Semitic names are routinely attested alongside individuals with Assyrian names in all walks of life within Neo-​Assyrian society,238 there was a pronounced tendency for men to favor Assyrian names.

235. Note also the shorter palace personnel lists from the same administrative context, which exhibit the same onomastic profile: Fales and Postgate 1992: nos. 6 and 7. 236. For the highest state offices, whose holders were often designated as “magnates” (rābūti), see Mattila 2000. 237. Vizier: Abi-​râmu (677 bc) and Banbâ (676 bc); palace herald: Pada (ca. 700 bc); commander-​in-​chief: Aia-​halu (833, 824, and 821 bc) and Mar-​larim (668 bc). For the attestations as year eponyms, see Millard 1994. 238. See the general overview by Nissinen 2014: 282–​295, which can now be checked against the more complete lists in Baker 2017a. The names given in the following footnotes refer only to cases with clear etymology, as listed in the volumes of The Prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire: Radner (ed.) 1998–​1999; Baker (ed.) 2000–​2001; 2002–​2011, where the references can be found.

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If we start our survey with the personnel of the royal court, there is no evidence for West Semitic names among the holders of the highest positions of palace manager (rab ekalli) and palace supervisor (ša pān ekalli; possibly responsible for palace protocol), and also not among their subordinate staff.239 The third-​highest position to wield administrative power in the palace was the palace scribe (ṭupšar ekalli), and the holders of this role often had traditional Akkadian names featuring the divine elements Marduk and Nabû, presumably because they functioned as divine patrons of writing. The situation that we can observe in the “Inner Quarters” (bētānu) of the palace is rather different, however. This more secluded part of the palace was guarded by its own gatekeepers and served primarily as a residential area. Part of it was known as the “House of the Women” (bēt isāte; often translated as “harem”240) and was nominally under the control of the queen, but in practice was the responsibility of a female official with the title šakintu (literally “female appointee”), which one might translate as “(female) harem manager.”241 All the women attested with this title had names of West Semitic origin (either Aramaic or Phoenician),242 and so did at least some of their assistants and female slaves.243 In general, this matches the testimony of a fragmentary list of 140 women and their female servants, likely the occupants of the “House of the Women” at one of Esarhaddon’s palaces. Only seven of the women on this list are described as “Assyrian,” whereas most are identified as originating from various western lands (Arpad, Tyre, Ashdod), as well as Babylonia (”Kassite”), Anatolia (“Hittite”) and even Nubia (“Kushite”):

239. For these offices and that of the palace scribe, see most recently Groß 2020: 47–​98. 240. For the bēt isāte, see Parpola 2012; note also the discussion of Solvang 2008. 241. See MacGregor 2012: 61–​64; Svärd 2015: 91–​105. 242. Baker 2017a: 148: Addati, Ahi-​ṭalli, Amat-​Astarti, Amat-​Baʿal, and Zarpî. 243. Ahat-​abû, the stewardess of the šakintu of the Old Palace at Kalhu; and Abi-​ lihia, sold to the šakintu of Assur.

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36 Aramean women; 15 Kushite women; seven Assyrian women, maids [of theirs]; four replacements [. . .] ; [x+​]3 women from Tyre; [x]‌Kassite women; [. . .]; [x] female . . . (MÍ.KUR.GAR.RA.MEŠ); three women from Arpad; one replacement; one woman from Ashdod; two Hittite women and [x . . . ean] women: in all, 94 women and 36 maids of theirs. Grand total, of the father of the Crown Prince: in all, 140 (women).244 Another fragmentary list of women’s names from Nineveh, originally with about 150 entries, may well represent the occupants of a “House of the Women,” as this list mixes Assyrian and West Semitic onomastics, frequently within one name.245 Name-​giving practices for women clearly differed from that for men. Once we leave the harem behind, the overwhelming majority of court society again had Assyrian names. Palace staff with West Semitic names are only sparingly attested, but range from gatekeepers246 to eunuchs,247 from various metalworkers (blacksmiths, bronze smiths)248 and textile workers (tailors, weavers)249 to potters, leather tanners, carpenters, oil-​ pressers, bakers, and brewers.250

244. Fales and Postgate 1992: no. 24: ll. 1–​17; see also Parpola 2012: 598–​599; Fales 2013: 64–​65. 245. Fales 1979. For the view that this text could have been a “harem register,” see Parpola 2007: 58. 246. Ahi-​Iau (Assur), Ahi-​larim (Nineveh), Hakkubaya, Sagibi (Nineveh), Sa’-​ aqaba (Harran). 247. Abdâ, Bar-​uri (Sam’al), Idra/​iya, Il-​iâba, Il-​ma’in, Milkî (Guzana), Milki-​nuri. 248. Blacksmiths: Adda-​abi, Adda-​idri, Ma’a-​il, Napî, Se’-​hari (Harran).—​Bronze smiths: Adunî, Garidâ (Harran), Huniṣâ (Harran), Me’isu (Harran), Našuh-​ ma[ . . . ] (Harran). 249. Tailors: Adda-​ pisia, Ammi-​ ramu, Halmusu, Ilu-​ ṭaba, Zabinu, Zahuṭuṭu. Weavers: Adda-​atar, Il-​dalâ, Sagibi, Ṭuhî. 250. For details on all these, see Baker 2017a.

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Moving beyond palace society to the Assyrian heartland, we encounter several merchants with West Semitic names, from various cities of origin,251 and male and female slaves are also frequently attested with West Semitic names.252 However, especially in the cities with important sanctuaries, such as Assur (with the temple of the national god Aššur), Nineveh, and Arbela (with their local hypostases of Ištar), and Kalhu (with the temple of Nabû), the number of West Semitic names are negligible overall, and the most popular names were Assyrian and celebrated the main deities worshipped at these places. As an example, the administrative texts from the Kalhu show a large number of names that used the divine element Nabû; such names were far more numerous than names constructed with all other theonyms.253 Our survey of the personal names and the naming-​practices of the Assyrian Empire results in a multifaceted picture, showing the entanglement of various social and cultural trends. There seems to have been no restrictions on naming newborns in one’s mother tongue, as was particularly apparent in the vast West Semitic–​speaking community, but also

251. Abdî (Kalhu), Adda-​ bi’di (Guzana), Adda-​ hari (Ma’allanate), Adda-​ rapâ (Nineveh), Ahi-​ qamu (Nineveh), Ammini-​ ili (from Tayma, active in Babylonia), Attar-​ham (Habriuru), Baʻala(t)-​qamu (Kalhu), Gizanu (possibly Dur-​Katlimmu), Hadasâ (Nineveh), Hara-​Adda (Kalhu), Iglî (horse merchant), Il-​dalâ (Dur-​Katlimmu), Il-​idri, Il-​immi (Nineveh), Il-​ma’adi (Ma’allanate), Indû (Dur-​Katlimmu), Maliktu (Nineveh), Menahem (Nineveh), Qar-​rapi’ (Gezer), Rahimi-​Dadi (Nineveh, and Mardin region), Rammanû, Sabiru (Kalhu), Suhuramû (merchant of the crown prince, Nineveh), Šarî (Kannu’—​ location unknown). 252. Male slaves: Abdâ, Abdi-​Buru, Abdi-​Il, Abu-​ṭaba, Adda-​hari, Adda-​qâ, Aduni-​ ṭubu, Ah-​immê, Attar-​ham, Attar-​idri, Attar-​šumki, Azri-​Iau, Ba‘ala(t)-​imme, Ba‘alti-​idri, Bih-​ahhe, Daianu-​idri, Halmusu, Hamnunu, Hanṭuṭu, Hati-​il, Ḫaza‘-​il, Iadi-​il, Iannuqu, Idraya, Il-​hazi, Il-​idri, Il-​natan, Il-​suri, Mar-​iate‘, Mar-​lihia, Mar-​suri, Sa’alti-​il, Saggil-​biʿdi, Sagibu, Salmanu-​idri, Samsi-​idri, Se’-​gabâ, Se’-​immi, Se’-​lawa, Se’-​nuri, Šamaš-​immi, Šimki-​Adda, Zabinu. Female slaves: Abi-​lihia, Aia-​suri, Attar-​bi‘di, Attar-​dimri, Attar-​palṭi, Badia, Gad-​iata‘, Haddi-​meri, Hananâ, Haninâ, Iati’-​abi, Kubu-​rahiya, Labidaya, Marqihitâ, Masamâ, Me’sâ, Milki-​haiaia, Mullissu-​duri, Nikkal-​suri, Nikkal-​ šeiagi, Rahimâ, Se’-​adari, Ṣapunâ, Ṣapunu. 253. Herbordt et al. 2019: 275–​277.

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among the Egyptian deportees in the Assyrian heartland. On the other hand, the prominence of state-​sponsored cults for the Assyrian deities and the general drive toward adopting an “Assyrian” cultural identity (section 40.5.1) must have also affected name-​giving. Despite the empire’s basic tolerance in this regard, this seems to have resulted in a general, and perhaps progressively more pronounced, tendency toward choosing Assyrian names.

40.6.  In conclusion The perspectives on Assyrian imperial society and culture offered in this chapter are necessarily selective, but this is certainly not due to a lack of sources. On the contrary, the study of the Assyrian Empire can draw on a great wealth of data, and the present chapter has deliberately privileged the textual sources while integrating the testimony of certain aspects of imperial art when appropriate. Writing in 2005, the cultural historian Mitchell Allen was among the first non-​Assyriologists to appreciate that the kingdom of Assyria in the first millennium bc had become “the first large empire of the central world-​system core,”254 duly stressing the importance of the relationship between central power and its local representation as a basic element of growth and consolidation that gave rise to the transition from what was originally an extremely vast “hegemonic state” to a territorial empire, with branches even beyond mountains and seas. The mid-​eighth century bc can be seen as a turning point in this development.255 With the Assyrian Empire now widely understood as a formative phase in a much larger political development,256 some long-​held misconceptions about this state, and in particular concerning its supposed bloodlust and military aggression (mainly the result of the uncritical

254. Allen 2005: 76. 255. As stated by Radner 2015b: 104. 256. As recently discussed, e.g., by Barjamovic 2021.

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reception of the Assyrian royal inscriptions),257 are far less frequently encountered. Much is owed in particular to the publication and analysis of the Assyrian state correspondence, which have brought to the fore other characteristics of the workings of the empire, such as the reliance on diplomatic negotiations when dealing with neighboring states and the economic investment in newly integrated provinces.258 Coexistence in the Assyrian Empire was based on the acceptance of Assyrian-​enforced law and order by all involved—​characterized, in the words of Sargon II, by “correct behavior and reverence for god and king.”259 It was therefore the duty of the Assyrian crown to eradicate political instability in all regions under its direct or indirect rule, with the aim of enhancing local productivity and trade everywhere. As Ashurbanipal has it, Successful harvests and an abundance of grain enabled pasture land to continually flourish, fruit orchards to be very lush with fruit, and cattle to successfully give birth to their young. During my reign, there was plenitude and abundance; during my years, bountiful produce was accumulated. Throughout my entire land, [on account of ] abundant trade, for one shekel of silver one could purchase ten donkey-​loads of grain, one homer of wine, two seahs of oil, and one talent of wool.260 Crucial for this was the Assyrian ideology of kingship, which saw the ruler as a divinely ordained instrument who ruled over the “Four Quarters of the World”, drawing on preexisting concepts that can be

257. For a critical survey of nineteenth-​and twentieth-​century scholarship on the Assyrian Empire, see Frahm 2006. 258. Archaeologists of the Southern Levant, who observed political stability and commercial and economic growth as the effects of Assyrian conquest, coined the term pax assyriaca (modeled on pax romana) to describe this phenomenon; for a discussion see Fales 2008. 259. Frame 2021: no. 9: l. 96; and parallels. 260. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: i 31−36; and parallels.

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traced back to the kingdom of Akkad (­chapter 10 in volume 1). This extraordinary “superiority complex” at the state level manifested itself within the Assyrian Empire through a specific social and cultural framework, aspects of which we have sought to explore in this chapter. The concept that the status of being “Assyrian” could be acquired by people who were not born Assyrian (section 40.5.1) is of fundamental importance. It can be argued that this pronounced inclusivity lent the project to spread the “Assyrian way of life” across all territories subjected to imperial power an optimistic and ultimately positive dimension. R ef er en c es Aker, J. 2007. Workmanship as ideological tool in the monumental hunt reliefs of Assurbanipal. In Cheng, J., and Feldman, M.H. (eds.), Ancient Near Eastern art in context: studies in honor of Irene J. Winter. Leiden: Brill, 229–​263. Allen, M. 2005. Power is in the details: administrative technology and the growth of ancient Near Eastern cores. In Chase-​Dunn, C., and Anderson, E.N. (eds.), The historical evolution of world-​systems. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 75–​91. Altaweel, M. 2008. The imperial landscape of Ashur: settlement and land use in the Assyrian heartland. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. Aster, S.Z. 2016. Israelite embassies to Assyria in the first half of the eighth century. Biblica 97: 175–​198. Bagg, A.M. 2007. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 1: die Levante. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Bagg, A.M. 2017. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 2: Zentralassyrien und benachbarte Gebiete, Ägypten und die arabische Halbinsel. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Bagg, A.M. 2020. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 3: Babylonien, Urarṭu und die östlichen Gebiete. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Bahrani, Z. 2006. Race and ethnicity in Mesopotamian antiquity. World Archaeology 38: 48–​59. Baker, H.D. (ed.) 2000–​2001. The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 2. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project.

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Baker, H.D. (ed.) 2002–​2011. The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 3. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Baker, H.D. 2002. Approaches to Akkadian name-​giving in first-​millennium BC: Mesopotamia. In Wunsch, C. (ed.), Mining the archives: Festschrift for Christopher Walker. Dresden: ISLET, 1–​24. Baker, H.D. 2017a. Neo-​Assyrian specialists: crafts, offices, and other professional designations. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Baker, H.D. 2017b. Slavery and personhood in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. In Bodel, J., and Scheidel, W. (eds.), On human bondage: after slavery and social death. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 15–​30. Bär, J. 1996. Der assyrische Tribut und seine Darstellung: eine Untersuchung zur imperialen Ideologie im neuassyrischen Reich. Kevelaer: Butzon und Bercker /​Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Barjamovic, G. 2011. Pride, pomp and circumstance: palace, court and household in Assyria 879–​612 BCE. In Duindam, J., Artan, T., and Kunt, M. (eds.), Royal courts in dynastic states and empires: a global perspective. Leiden: Brill, 27–​61. Barjamovic, G. 2021. The empires of Western Asia and the Assyrian world empire. In Bang, P.F., Bayliss, C.A., and Scheidel, W. (eds.), The Oxford world history of empire, 2: the history of empires. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 73–​110. Bawanypeck, D. 2005. Die Rituale der Auguren. Heidelberg: Winter. Beaulieu, P.-​A. 2006. Official and vernacular languages: the shifting sands of imperial and cultural identities in first millennium BC Mesopotamia. In Sanders, S.L. (ed.), Margins of writing: origins of cultures. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 185–​215. Ben-​Shlomo, D. 2014. Tell Jemmeh, Philistia and the Neo-​Assyrian Empire during the Late Iron Age. Levant 45: 58–​88. Bonatz, D., and Heinz, M. 2018. Representation. In Gunter, A. (ed.), Companion to the art of the ancient Near East. Malden, MA: Wiley-​ Blackwell, 233–​260. Boyd, S. 2019. Sargon’s Dur-​Šarrukīn cylinder inscription and language ideology: a reconsideration and connection to Genesis 11:1–​9. JNES 78: 87–​111. Brown, B.A. 2014. Culture on display: representations of ethnicity in the art of the late Assyrian state. In Brown, B.A., and Feldman, M.H. (eds.), Critical approaches to ancient Near Eastern art. Berlin: De Gruyter, 515–​542.

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Brown, B.A. 2015. The structure and decline of the Middle Assyrian state: the role of autonomous and nonstate actors. JCS 65: 97–​126. Butler, S.A. 1998. Mesopotamian conceptions of dreams and dream rituals. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Charpin, D. 2004. Mari und die Assyrer. In Meyer, J.-​W., and Sommerfeld, W. (eds.), 2000 v. Chr.: politische, wirtschaftliche und kulturelle Entwicklung im Zeichen einer Jahrtausendwende. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag, 372–​382. Cogan, M. 1983. “Ripping open pregnant women” in light of an Assyrian analogue. JAOS 103: 755–​757. Cole, S.W., and Machinist, P. 1998. Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian priests to kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Collins, P. 2014. Gods, heroes, rituals, and violence: warfare in Neo-​Assyrian art. In Brown, B.A., and Feldman, M.H. (eds.), Critical approaches to ancient Near Eastern art. Berlin: De Gruyter, 619–​643. Córdoba, J.M. 1997. Die Schlacht am Ulaya-​Fluß: ein Beispiel assyrischer Kriegführung während der letzten Jahre des Reiches. In Waetzoldt, H., and Hauptmann, H. (eds.), Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 7–​18. Couto-​Ferreira, M.E. 2014. She will give birth easily: therapeutic approaches to childbirth in 1st millennium BCE cuneiform sources. Dynamis 34: 289–​315. Crawford, C. 2014. Relating image and word in ancient Mesopotamia. In Brown, B.A., and Feldman, M.H. (eds.), Critical approaches to ancient Near Eastern art. Berlin: De Gruyter, 241–​263. Curtis, J.E., McCall, H., Collon, D., and al-​Gailani Werr, L. (eds.) 2008. New light on Nimrud. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Curtis, J.E., and Tallis, N. 2008. The Balawat gates of Ashurnasirpal II. London: British Museum Press. Dalley, S. 1996–​1997. Neo-​Assyrian tablets from Til Barsib. Abr-​Nahrain 34: 66–​99. Dalley, S., and Postgate, J.N. 1984. The tablets from Fort Shalmaneser. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. De Backer, F. 2009. Evolution of war chariot tactics in the ancient Near East. UF 41: 1–​17. De Backer, F. 2013. L’art du siège néo-​assyrien. Leiden: Brill.

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Oded, B. 1979. Mass deportations and deportees in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Oppenheim, A.L. 1956. The interpretation of dreams in the ancient Near East: with a translation of an Assyrian dream-​ book. Philadelphia, PA: American Philosophical Society. Oppenheim, A.L. 1960. The city of Assur in 714 BC. JNES 19: 133–​147. Oppenheim, A.L. 1969. New fragments of the Assyrian dream-​book. Iraq 31: 153–​165. Parker, B. 1961. Administrative tablets from the North-​West Palace, Nimrud. Iraq 23: 15–​67. Parker, B.J. 2011. The construction and performance of kingship in the Neo-​ Assyrian Empire. Journal of Anthropological Research 67: 357–​386. Parpola, S. 1987. The correspondence of Sargon II, part I: letters from Assyria and the West. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Parpola, S. 1993. Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian scholars. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Parpola, S. 2004. National and ethnic identity in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire and Assyrian identity in post-​empire times. Journal of Assyrian Academic Studies 18: 5–​22. Parpola, S. 2007. Cuneiform texts from Ziyaret Tepe (Tušhan). SAAB 16: 1–​100. Parpola, S. 2012. The Neo-​Assyrian royal harem. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Morandi Bonacossi, D., Pappi, C., and Ponchia, S. (eds.), Leggo! Studies presented to Frederick Mario Fales. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 613–​626. Parpola, S., and Watanabe, K. 1988. Neo-​Assyrian treaties and loyalty oaths. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Pedersén, O. 1986. Archives and libraries in the city of Assur: a survey of the material from the German excavations, vol. 2. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Pedersén, O. 1998. Archives and libraries in the ancient Near East, 1500–​300 BC. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Ponchia, S. 2017. Slaves, serfs, and prisoners in imperial Assyria (IX–​VII cent. BC): a review of written sources. SAAB 23: 157–​179. Ponchia, S. 2020. Foreigners, deportees and slaves as agents of change and cultural transfer: some reflections on the Neo-​Assyrian period. In Krebernik, M., and Ponchia, S. (eds.), The ancient Near East and the foundations of Europe. Münster: Zaphon, 109–​141. Pongratz-​ Leisten, B. 1997. Toponyme als Ausdruck assyrischen Herrschaftsanspruchs. In Pongratz-​Leisten, B., Kühne, H., and Xella, P.

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(eds.), Ana šadî Labnâni lû allik—​Beiträge zu altorientalischen und mittelmeerischen Kulturen: Festschrift für Wolfgang Röllig. Kevelaer: Butzon und Bercker /​Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 325–​344. Pongratz-​Leisten, B. 2015. Religion and ideology in Assyria. Berlin: De Gruyter. Postgate, J.N. 1980. Kilizu. RlA 5: 591–​593. Postgate, J.N. 1992. The land of Assur and the yoke of Assur. World Archaeology 23: 247–​263. Postgate, J.N. 2000. The Assyrian army in Zamua. Iraq 62: 89–​108. Postgate, J.N. 2007. The invisible hierarchy: Assyrian military and civilian administration in the 8th and 7th centuries BC. In Postgate, J.N., The land of Assur and the yoke of Assur: studies on Assyria, 1971–​2005. Oxford: Oxbow, 331–​360. Postgate, J.N. 2011. Die Stadt Assur und das Land Assur. In Renger, J. (ed.), Assur: Gott, Stadt und Land. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 87–​94. Radner, K. (ed.) 1998–​1999. The prosopography of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, 1. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Radner K. 1999. Ein neuassyrisches Privatarchiv der Tempelgoldschmiede von Assur. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag. Radner, K. 2002. Die neuassyrischen Texte von Tall Šēh Ḥamad /​ Dūr-​ Katlimmu. Berlin: Reimer. Radner, K. 2005. Die Macht des Namens: altorientalische Strategien zur Selbsterhaltung. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Radner, K. 2008a. Provinz: C. Assyrien. RlA 11: 42–​68. Radner, K. 2008b. Esarhaddon’s expedition from Palestine to Egypt in 671 BCE: a trek through Negev and Sinai. In Bonatz, D., Czichon, R., and Kreppner, F.J. (eds.), Fundstellen: gesammelte Schriften zur Archäologie und Geschichte Altvorderasiens ad honorem Hartmut Kühne. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 305–​314. Radner, K. 2009. The Assyrian king and his scholars: the Syro-​Anatolian and the Egyptian schools. Studia Orientalia 106: 221–​238. Radner, K. 2011a. Schreiberkonventionen im assyrischen Reich: Sprachen und Schriftsysteme. In Renger, J. (ed.), Assur: Gott, Stadt und Land. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 385–​404. Radner, K. 2011b. The Assur-​Nineveh-​Arbela triangle: central Assyria in the Neo-​Assyrian period. In Miglus, P.A., and Mühl, S. (eds.), Between the cultures: the central Tigris region from the 3rd to the 1st millennium BC. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 321–​329.

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Radner, K. 2011c. Royal decision-​making: kings, magnates, and scholars. In Radner, K., and Robson, E. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of cuneiform culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 358–​379. Radner, K. 2012a. Between a rock and a hard place: Muṣaṣir, Kumme, Ukku and Šubria—​the buffer states between Assyria and Urartu. In Kroll, S., Gruber, C., Hellwag, U., Roaf, R., and Zimansky, P. (eds.), Biainili-​Urartu. Leuven: Peeters, 243–​264. Radner, K. 2012b. After Eltekeh: royal hostages from Egypt at the Assyrian court. In Baker, H.D., Kaniuth, K., and Otto, A. (eds.), Stories of long ago: Festschrift für Michael D. Roaf. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 471–​479. Radner, K. 2013. Assyria and the Medes. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Iran. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 442–​456. Radner, K. 2014. An imperial communication network: the state correspondence of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. In Radner, K. (ed.), State correspondence in the ancient world: from New Kingdom Egypt to the Roman Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 64–​93. Radner, K. 2015a. High visibility punishment and deterrent: impalement in Assyrian warfare and legal practice. ZAR 21: 103–​128. Radner, K. 2015b. The Neo-​Assyrian Empire. In Gehler, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Imperien und Reiche in der Weltgeschichte: epochenübergreifende und globalhistorische Vergleiche, Teil 1: Imperien des Altertums, Mittelalterliche und frühneuzeitliche Imperien. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 101–​119. Radner, K. 2016a. Royal pen pals: the kings of Assyria in correspondence with officials, clients and total strangers (8th and 7th centuries BC). In Procházka, S., Reinfandt, L., and Tost, S. (eds.), Official epistolography and the language(s) of power. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 61–​72. Radner, K. 2016b. Die beiden neuassyrischen Privatarchive. In Miglus, P., Radner, K., and Stepniowski, F.M., Ausgrabungen in Assur: Wohnquartiere in der Weststadt, Teil 1. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 79–​133. Radner, K. 2018. The “Lost Tribes of Israel” in the context of the resettlement programme of the Assyrian Empire. In Hasegawa, S., Levin, C., and Radner, K. (eds.), The last days of the kingdom of Israel. Berlin: De Gruyter, 101–​123. Radner, K. 2019. Neo-​Assyrian treaties as a source for the historian: bonds of friendship, the vigilant subject and the vengeful King’s Treaty. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Mattila, R., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Writing Neo-​Assyrian

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history: sources, problems, and approaches. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 309–​328. Radner, K. 2021. Diglossia and the Neo-​Assyrian Empire’s Akkadian and Aramaic text production. In Jonker, L.C., Berlejung, A., and Cornelius, I. (eds.), Multilingualism in ancient contexts: perspectives from ancient Near Eastern and Early Christian contexts. Stellenbosch: African Sun Media, 146–​181. Reade, J.E. 1972. The Neo-​Assyrian court and army: evidence from the sculptures. Iraq 34: 87–​112. Reade, J.E. 2019. Urartian envoys to Ashurbanipal’s court: some remarks on the Assyro-​Urartian relations in the first half of the 7th century BC. In Avetisyan, P.S., and Dan, R. (eds.), Over the mountains and far away. studies presented to Mirjo Salvini. Oxford: Archaeopress, 283–​291. Robson, E. 2011. The production and dissemination of scholarly knowledge. In Radner, K., and Robson, E. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of cuneiform culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 557–​576. Röllig, W. 2014. Die aramäischen Texte aus Tall Šeḫ Ḥamad /​ Dur-​Katlimmu /​ Magdalu. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Rosa, D.F. 2010. Middle Assyrian ginā’ū offerings lists: geographical implications. In Biga, M.G., and Liverani, M. (eds.), Ana turri gimilli: studi dedicati al Padre Werner R. Mayer, S.J. Rome: Università degli studi di Roma “La Sapienza,” 327–​342. Rosenzweig, M.S. 2016. Cultivating subjects in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. Journal of Social Archaeology 16: 307–​334. Rosenzweig, M.S., and Marston, J.M. 2018. Archaeologies of empire and environment. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 52: 87–​102. Russell, J.M. 1999. The writing on the wall: studies in the architectural context of late Assyrian palace inscriptions. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Salonen, A. 1965. Die Hausgeräte der alten Mesopotamier nach sumerisch-​ akkadischen Quellen: eine lexikalische und kulturgeschichtliche Untersuchung. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia. Schachner, A. 2007. Bilder einer Weltreichs: kunst-​und kulturgeschicht­ liche Untersuchungen zu den Verzierungen eines Tores aus Balawat (Imgur-​Enlil) aus der Zeit von Salmanassar III, König von Assyrien. Turnhout: Brepols. Scurlock, J.A. 1997. Neo-​Assyrian battle tactics. In Young, G.D., Chavalas, M.W., and Averbeck, R.E. (eds.), Crossing boundaries and linking

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horizons: studies in honor of Michael C. Astour. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 491–​517. Singer, I. 2013. The Philistines in the Bible: a short rejoinder to a new perspective. In Killebrew, A., and Lehmann, G. (eds.), The Philistines and other “Sea Peoples” in text and archaeology. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 19–​28. Solvang, E.K. 2008. Classifying women: the “harem” and what it does and doesn’t tell us about women. In Biggs, R.D., Myers, J., and Roth, M.T. (eds.), Proceedings of the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 415–​420. Stamm, J.J. 1939. Die akkadische Namengebung. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Starr, I. 1990. Queries to the sungod: divination and politics in Sargonid Assyria. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Svärd, S. 2015. Women and power in Neo-​Assyrian palaces. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Tadmor, H., and Yamada, S. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–​722 BC), kings of Assyria. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Thomason, A.K. 2004. From Sennacherib’s bronzes to Taharqa’s feet: conceptions of the material world at Nineveh. Iraq 66: 151–​162. Tudeau, J. 2019. Building in Assyria: a philological perspective. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Tushingham, P. 2019. Uniformity versus regional variation in the legal and scribal practices of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. ZAR 25: 29–​53. Ur, J.A. 2017. Physical and cultural landscapes of Assyria. In Frahm, E. (ed.), A companion to Assyria. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 13–​35. Ur, J.A., and Reade, J.E. 2015. The hydraulic landscape of Nimrud. Mesopotamia 50: 25–​51. Van de Mieroop, M. 1999. Cuneiform texts and the writing of history. London and New York: Routledge. Verri, G., Collins, P., Ambers, J., Sweek, T., and Simpson, St.J. 2009. Assyrian colours: pigments on a Neo-​Assyrian relief of a parade horse. The British Museum Technical Research Bulletin 3: 57–​62. Wilkinson, T.J., Wilkinson, E.B., Ur, J., and Altaweel, M. 2005. Landscape and settlement in the Neo-​Assyrian Empire. BASOR 340: 25–​56. Winter, I. 2010. On art in the ancient Near East, vol. 1: of the first millennium BCE. Leiden: Brill.

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Yamada, S. 2019. Neo-​Assyrian eponym lists and eponym chronicles: contents, stylistic variants and their historical-​ideological background. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Mattila, R. and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Writing Neo-​ Assyrian history: sources, problems, and approaches. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 161–​181. Yamada, S. 2020. The conquest and reorganization of the land of Zamua/​ Mazamua in the Assyrian Empire. In Hasegawa, S. and Radner, K. (eds.), The reach of the Assyrian and Babylonian Empires: case studies in eastern and western peripheries. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 167–​193. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2016. A political history of the Arameans: from their origins to the end of their polities. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Zadok, R. 1977. On West Semites in Babylonia during the Chaldean and Achaemenian periods: an onomastic study. Jerusalem: Wanaarta. Zadok, R. 1995. The ethno-​linguistic character of the Jezireh and adjacent regions in the 9th–​7th centuries (Assyria proper vs. periphery). In Liverani, M. (ed.), Neo-​Assyrian geography. Rome: Università degli studi di Roma “La Sapienza,” 217–​282. Zadok, R. 2002. The ethno-​linguistic character of northwestern Iran and Kurdistan in the Neo-​Assyrian period. Iran 40: 89–​151. Zadok, R. 2010. Anatolians in Neo-​Assyrian documents. In Cohen, Y. (ed.), Pax Hethitica: studies on the Hittites and their neighbours in honour of Itamar Singer. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 411–​439. Zamazalová, S. 2011. Before the Assyrian conquest in 671 BCE: relations between Egypt, Kush and Assyria. In Mynářová, J. (ed.), Egypt and the Near East—​the crossroads. Prague: Charles University, 297–​328. Zgoll, A. 2006. Traum und Weiterleben im antiken Mesopotamien. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag.

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Babylonia from Nebuchadnezzar I to Tiglath-​pileser III John P. Nielsen

41.1. Introduction Relative to other periods of Babylonian history, the era between the collapse of the Kassite Dynasty in the mid-​twelfth century bc and Tiglath-​ pileser III’s assumption of the Babylonian crown at the start of the last quarter of the eighth century bc is a dark age. Very little textual evidence survives from this period, and the prolonged stretches of political instability that gripped Babylonia (figure 41.1) over these centuries resulted in a decline in the production of inscriptions and administrative tablets. An exception are kudurrus, a genre of text that was typically inscribed on stone steles that had been decorated with religious iconography,1 but which could also appear in the form of large stone or even clay tablets that lacked any decoration. Kudurru stones first appeared during the Kassite Dynasty (­chapter 33 in volume 3), when their use and format was more restricted, and they continued to be produced into the eighth century bc. They often functioned as commemorative monuments of royal grants of land or other privileges, but their format was adaptable, and it

1. Seidl 1989. John P. Nielsen, Babylonia from Nebuchadnezzar I to Tiglath-pileser III In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0041

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Figure 41.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 41. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

is possible to find examples of kudurrus that served different purposes or did not directly involve the king.2 Roughly forty kudurru stones date to kings from this time, and approximately fifteen to twenty more can be assigned to this period stylistically and on the basis of their contents, even if the identity of the specific king under whose rule the kudurru was produced cannot be established.3 Though they are not plentiful in number, the richness of their contents can provide welcome information about otherwise poorly documented periods.

2. Slanski 2003; Brinkman 2006. 3. Paulus 2014b: 12–​16.

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Royal inscriptions are even more rare from this period. Excluding passages on kudurrus that could be classified as royal inscriptions and later literary compositions that describe the exploits of some of the more notable kings from this period, only thirty-​eight distinct royal inscriptions survive from the reigns of fifteen of the thirty-​five kings who held the throne.4 Twenty-​nine of these royal inscriptions date to one of the nine kings of the Second Dynasty of Isin. Furthermore, royal inscriptions became especially rare after the reign of Nabû-​mukin-​apli in 943 bc; of the eighteen kings who came after him, royal inscriptions are available for only two: Marduk-​zakir-​šumi I and Eriba-​Marduk. Broadly speaking, Babylonian royal inscriptions tend to have been inscribed on semi-​precious objects (e.g., cylinder seals, bronzes, or weights), incorporated into monumental architecture (e.g., carved on stone door sockets, impressed on bricks, or interred on clay cones), or copied from the original onto tablets by scribes who lived centuries later. Most of the surviving Babylonian royal inscriptions tend to be short and formulaic, lacking the length and breadth of detail that can be found in contemporary Assyrian royal inscriptions. Fortunately for modern historians, but less so for the ancient Babylonians, the expansion of the Neo-​Assyrian Empire, which began at the end of the tenth century bc, brought Assyrian armies into Babylonian territory. The Assyrian annals and royal inscriptions that recorded these campaigns offer welcome—​though admittedly etic and biased—​accounts of conditions and events in Babylonia at the time. The paucity of textual evidence, however, should not blind us to the continued vitality of Babylonian culture during this period, and we should be mindful that more written material was produced in antiquity than what survives. New compositions in Sumerian continued to be written, pointing to the continuation of specialized scribal education at the major cult centers. There are also indications that the kings of the Second Dynasty of Isin sponsored editorial projects encapsulated in the scholarly tradition attributed to an ummânu (master scholar) named Esagil-​ kin-​apli.5 Furthermore, the contents of many of the kudurrus point to 4. Frame 1995: 5–​133. 5. Frahm 2011: 324–​332.

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the existence of a much greater royal administrative apparatus, and a few administrative tablets dated to kings from the Second Dynasty of Isin are suggestive of institutional continuity.6 The survival of these tablets may be indicative of a much larger bureaucratic production of records, most of which could have been culled from temple archives in antiquity and disposed of, though this possibility is admittedly speculative. The nadir of available textual evidence is in the tenth century bc, and this dramatic drop in the number of surviving texts undoubtedly reflects the social and political realities of the time. A gradual uptick in the production of administrative tablets can only be observed to have occurred in the eighth century bc at the end of the period under consideration.7 Furthermore, epistolary evidence is also largely absent from this period, the only exception being a collection of letters that has been attributed to the governor of Nippur and dated to the early eighth century bc.8 Because these centuries have been a dark age to both modern and ancient scholars alike, the reconstruction of the chronology poses challenges. The Assyrian King List remains the scaffold on which the absolute chronology of this period relies. Upon it can be situated the data from the Babylonian King Lists A and C, the Ptolemaic Canon, the Assyrian Synchronistic King List,9 and several Assyrian and Babylonian chronicles.10 Recently, separate arguments have been made that the Assyrians were using a non-​intercalated lunar calendar in the eleventh century bc, thus necessitating a lowering of what have been the accepted dates.11 Add to these arguments the possibility that certain Babylonian dynasties were not consecutive but were rather contemporary with one another,12 and it becomes clear that the chronology of Babylonia during 6. Brinkman 1968: 97–​98; Clay 1912: nos. 1 and 1a. 7. Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 63–​66. 8. Cole 1996a; 1996b; but see van Driel 1998. 9. Grayson 1983. 10. Grayson 1975; Glassner 2004. 11. Bloch 2010; Jeffers 2017; Mahieu 2018. 12. Hagens 2002; 2005.

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this time is less settled than we would wish it to be. The dates put forth by J. A. Brinkman have been retained here to provide the reader with a chronological framework on which to place events,13 but with the caveat and full recognition that they will require modification as new proposals for the chronology of this period become settled.

41.2.  The Second Dynasty of Isin The Elamite invasion of Babylon launched by Kutir-​Nahhunte resulted in the removal of Enlil-​nadin-​ahi from the Babylonian throne and the downfall of the Kassite Dynasty, the longest reigning dynasty in Babylonian history (­chapter 33 in volume 3). This vacuum was filled by the kings of the Second Dynasty of Isin,14 the most famous of whom was Nebuchadnezzar I, a king whose defeat of the Elamites led to the preservation of his memory in Babylonian literary tradition well into the first millennium bc.15 However, before Nebuchadnezzar had even been crowned, three kings from the dynasty preceded him and had ruled Babylonia for more than three decades: Marduk-​kabit-​ahhešu (1157–​1140 bc), Itti-​Marduk-​balaṭu (1139–​1132 bc), and Ninurta-​nadin-​ šumi (1131–​1126 bc).16 Little evidence for these kings survives, but their reigns must have witnessed the consolidation of the dynasty’s power in Babylonia and a re-​extension of Babylonian power beyond the southern alluvium that paved the way for Nebuchadnezzar’s successes. The dynasty’s links to the city of Isin are somewhat tenuous, based as they are on the name given to the dynasty in the Babylonian King List A and the prominence of the governor of Isin in witness lists on kuddurrus,17 but it would make sense that the dynasty that followed the Kassite Dynasty would come from a city in the south beyond the reach of the Elamite

13. Brinkman 1977. 14. Brinkman 1968: 90–​148; 1980a; Paulus 2014a: 76–​80; Nielsen 2018b, 15. Nielsen 2018b. 16. Brinkman 2001g: 527. 17. Brinkman 1968: 91 and n. 478.

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invasions. Whatever his city of origin, Marduk-​kabit-​ahhešu appears to have been in control of Babylon within the first years of his reign and enjoyed enough stability as king to rule for eighteen years and then pass the throne to his son, Itti-​Marduk-​balaṭu, who ruled for another eight years. While Itti-​Marduk-​balaṭu claimed to have been the son of Marduk-​ kabit-​ahhešu in his own inscription, the one surviving royal inscription of Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi offers no indication that he was related to his predecessor. If Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi’s accession represented a familial break within the dynasty, it did inaugurate a prolonged familial hold on the throne that witnessed Babylonia coming into conflict with its neighbors Elam and Assyria. Including Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi, five kings, covering three generations, ruled Babylonia for the next six decades. The family may have enjoyed a lengthy hold on power, but there is evidence that at least one royal transition did not occur peacefully. A fragmentary copy of a Babylonian chronicle reveals that a king from the family was usurped by his son in a palace coup after he had invaded Assyria.18 The remnants of the text can be restored in two possible ways: either Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi was overthrown by his son, Nebuchadnezzar I, or Nebuchadnezzar’s son and successor, Enlil-​nadin-​apli, was deposed by Nebuchadnezzar’s younger brother, Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe.19 If Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe overthrew Enlil-​nadin-​apli, then it would mean that all five kings from this family engaged with Assyria, either militarily, diplomatically, or both. The theater of conflict between the two kingdoms often ran along the Tigris River and the regions to the east through which its many tributaries, such as the Diyala, Adhaim, and Lower Zab rivers, flowed out of the Zagros Mountains. Kassite tribes were a major presence in these territories. Historically these tribes had fallen within Babylonia’s political orbit, but they may have enjoyed greater autonomy under the kings of the Second Dynasty of Isin, particularly during the dynasty’s early years. Further to the east of this region

18. Walker 1982: 400–​402; Glassner 2004: 282–​283. 19. Bloch 2012: 70–​78.

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was Elam, and strategic considerations related to conflicts with Assyria may have been a concern during Nebuchadnezzar I’s Elamite campaigns, in addition to the ideological importance of avenging the earlier Elamite invasions. Nearly all of the available evidence for Babylonia’s relationship with Assyria during the Second Dynasty of Isin comes from Assyrian sources, and this is the case with Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi, Nebuchadnezzar I’s father. A Middle Assyrian chronicle records that Aššur-​reša-​iši I of Assyria (1132–​1115 bc) had to march his army to the city of Arbela northeast of Assur to deal with Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi’s army.20 The chronicle reports that Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi withdrew in advance of Aššur-​reša-​iši’s arrival, but the mere presence of a Babylonian army deep within the Assyrian heartland is indicative of the strong position that Babylonia may have enjoyed vis-​à-​vis Assyria. Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi may have also been taking advantage of internal divisions within Assyria. Assyrian sources suggest that the governor of Arbela may have revolted against Aššur-​reša-​iši, presenting an opportunity for Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi to bring his army north in support of the rebellion.21 If Ninurta-​nadin-​šumi’s retreat from Assyria resulted in his overthrow by Nebuchadnezzar, whatever internal turmoil that may have ensued did little to diminish the threat of Babylonian campaigns into Assyrian territory; Babylonia retained the upper hand under Nebuchadnezzar I (1125–​1104 bc), who led Babylonian armies into Assyria on at least two more occasions. According to the Assyrian Synchronistic Chronicle,22 Nebuchadnezzar violated a truce between Assyria and Babylonia and placed the Assyrian fortress at Zaqqu under siege. Aššur-​reša-​iši mobilized his chariots and marched on Nebuchadnezzar to relieve the city. In the face of Aššur-​reša-​iši’s advance, Nebuchadnezzar elected to burn his own siege machines

20. Grayson 1975: 188: Assyrian Chronicle Fragment 3: iv 7–​17; Glassner 2004: 188–​ 189. On these events, see also ­chapter 37 in this volume. 21. Bloch 2012: 66–​70. 22. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 21: ii 1′–​13′; Glassner 2004: 178–​181.

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and retreat to Babylonia. Nebuchadnezzar then marched on the Assyrian fortress at Idu, located on the Lower Zab river southeast of Arbela.23 Once again, Aššur-​reša-​iši sent his forces to break the siege. According to the Assyrian source, not only was Aššur-​reša-​iši victorious in the battle that followed at Idu, he even succeeded in capturing the Babylonian general.24 However, in spite of the Babylonian defeat, Nebuchadnezzar’s ability to strike into Assyrian territory, as his father had done earlier, may indicate Babylonian victories masked by the bias of the Assyrian sources.25 The outcome of these conflicts appears to have been a re-​establishment of peace. From an Assyrian administrative document, we learn that Nebuchadnezzar made a state visit to Assyria, possibly during the reign of Aššur-​reša-​iši’s successor, Tiglath-​ pileser I.26 These engagements with Assyria receive no mention in Babylonian sources, and it is not known when they occurred other than during the reign of Aššur-​reša-​iši I, which overlapped with the first part of Nebuchadnezzar I’s reign. If and how they were related to Nebuchadnezzar’s celebrated invasion of Elam is unknown, but an illicitly excavated kudurru that was seized by customs agents at Heathrow airport and which came to public attention in 2019 appears to indicate that the Elamite campaign occurred shortly after Nebuchadnezzar took the throne.27 If this was the case, then Nebuchadnezzar must have felt confident that Assyria was not a threat and his campaigns against Assyria were not an attempt to secure that border.28 Additional information about the Elamite campaign was recorded in two kudurrus from Nebuchadnezzar’s reign. The more famous of these is the Šitti-​ Marduk Kudurru (figure 41.2), which recounts Nebuchadnezzar’s 23. van Soldt 2008; Pappi 2018: 97–​99. 24. Grayson 1975: 162–​164: Chronicle 21: ii 1′–​13′; Glassner 2004: 178–​181. 25. Brinkman 1968: 111. 26. Donbaz 1998, 183; Bloch 2012: 74 n. 79. 27. Alberge 2019; personal communication, Jon Taylor (British Museum). 28. Nielsen 2018b: 52–​53.

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Figure 41.2. The Šitti-​ Marduk Kudurru. British Museum, BM 90858. © The Trustees of the British Museum Creative Commons. Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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march from Der in the heat of summer and the ensuing battle with the Elamite king, Hulteludiš-​Inšušinak, at the Ulaya River where Šitti-​ Marduk, the Kassite chieftain of Bit-​Karziabku, distinguished himself.29 To reward Šitti-​Marduk, Nebuchadnezzar freed the towns of Bit-​Karziabku from the jurisdiction of Namri, which was controlled by the powerful Kassite tribe of Bit-​Hamban. For Nebuchadnezzar, this act would have offered an additional benefit by weakening Bit-​ Hamban, a tribe that may have been more resistant to the extension of Babylonian power into the Zagros region.30 The other kudurru describes how two priests of the god Eriya had fled Elam and had petitioned the king to undertake an expedition against Elam on their behalf. After defeating Elam, Nebuchadnezzar took the hand of Marduk—​called by his epithet, Bel, in the text—​and entered with Eriya into Babylon.31 Nebuchadnezzar’s grasping of the hand of Bel after the defeat of Elam and the use of the epithet “king of the gods” for Marduk in the prologue of the Šitti-​Marduk Kudurru have been held up as evidence that Nebuchadnezzar recovered the statue of Marduk from Elam, an event that precipitated Marduk’s supplanting Enlil as the supreme deity within the Babylonian pantheon.32 Literary texts that portray the campaign as having been undertaken at Marduk’s command and with the intent of returning Marduk to Babylon reinforce this perception, but tablets preserving these compositions postdate Nebuchadnezzar’s reign by nearly a half millennium. Marduk’s ascent within the Babylonian pantheon was likely being recognized by the kings of the Kassite Dynasty during the late thirteenth century bc,33 even if he had not supplanted Enlil at the head of the pantheon at that time.

29. Frame 1995: B.2.4.11. 30. Nielsen 2012. 31. King 1912: 104–​106 no. 24: 1–​14; Paulus 2014b: 511–​514. 32. Lambert 1964; 2013: 271–​277. 33. Tenney 2016: 157–​162, 178–​180.

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While the victory over Elam and the likely return of the Marduk statue to Babylon may have prompted the priesthood of Marduk at Babylon to advance Marduk’s primacy—​Marduk was called “king of the gods” in the Šitti-​Marduk Kudurru—​Nebuchadnezzar continued to act assiduously toward the cult of Enlil at Nippur. The contents of the kudurru seized at London’s Heathrow Airport in 2019 suggest that it was found at or in the vicinity of Nippur. Although many phrases in the text resemble passages found in the Šitti-​Marduk Kudurru, in this new kudurru, Enlil was the god who called upon Nebuchadnezzar to avenge Babylonia, not Marduk. Nebuchadnezzar’s deference to Enlil and Nippur can be found in other documents: stamped bricks inscribed with Sumerian inscriptions attest to Nebuchadnezzar having carried out repairs on the Unu-​mah within the Ekur of Enlil;34 an inscription copied in the seventh or sixth century bc from a throne set up by the Babylonian king Simbar-​Šipak in the last quarter of the eleventh century bc described how Nebuchadnezzar had previously dedicated a throne to Enlil at Nippur;35 and a kudurru set up under Nebuchadnezzar’s auspices at Nippur to record a grant of land to the mayor of Nippur called Enlil “king of the great gods” in the prologue of the text.36 In addition to his building work and patronage at Nippur for Enlil, Nebuchadnezzar also tended to the cults of the god Adad at Babylon and of the god Sin at Ur. He performed work on the sanctuary of Adad at Babylon, according to a fragmentary royal inscription from his reign.37 A Neo-​Babylonian inventory tablet from Ur records the dedication of gold objects to the Giparu temple by Nebuchadnezzar,38 and based on the testimony of an inscription belonging to Nabonidus of Babylon (556–​539 bc; c­ hapter 50 in volume 5), that king discovered a stele at Ur

34. Frame 1995: B.2.4.2. 35. Frame 1995: B.3.1.1. 36. Hinke 1907: 142–​155; Paulus 2014b: 491–​502. 37. Frame 1995: B.2.4.1. 38. Figulla 1949: no. 143: 11, 13.

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that commemorated Nebuchadnezzar’s dedication of his daughter as an entu-​priestess.39 Enlil-​nadin-​apli (1103–​1100 bc) succeeded his father in 1104 bc. The propensity for many of the kings from the Second Dynasty of Isin to have names that featured Marduk or his son, Nabû, as theophoric elements is indicative of Marduk’s growing prestige at this time, but it may also be significant that Nebuchadnezzar’s heir possessed a name that expressed an affinity for Nippur’s patron deity.40 Three kudurrus survive from Enlil-​nadin-​apli’s reign, two of which reveal that he tended to matters in southern Babylonia and the Sealand. In one of these, Enlil-​nadin-​apli restored a parcel of land to the priest of Namma and Nanše that Gulkišar, who had ruled southern Babylonia as a member of the First Dynasty of the Sealand (­chapter 18 in volume 2), had donated to the goddess Nanše, but which had been appropriated by the governor of Bit-​Sin-​magir.41 The priest appealed to Enlil-​nadin-​apli, and the king’s ability to wrest a field away from a local potentate in the far south of his kingdom speaks to the reach of royal authority. Additionally, the scribe who composed the text of the kudurru attempted to calculate the time span that had elapsed since the time of Gulkišar. While his estimation that 696 years had intervened since Gulkišar’s reign was incorrect, the attempt reveals that scribes had access to records and other sources pertaining to kings who had ruled several centuries earlier and suggests a degree of institutional stability that permitted the survival of those materials. Enlil-​nadin-​apli’s four-​year reign was possibly cut short by a coup instigated by his uncle, Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe (1099–​1082 bc), while he was campaigning against Assyria.42 This seems the more likely restoration of Chronicle 25; if Nebuchadnezzar I had overthrown his father, it seems unlikely that he would have been able to launch a campaign against Elam at the outset of his reign, as the new kudurru seems to indicate.

39. Clay 1915: no. 45 i 29–​33. 40. Nielsen 2018b: 78–​79. 41. Hilprecht 1893–​1896: I 83; Paulus 2014b: 521–​524. 42. Walker 1982: 401–​402: Chronicle 25: 19–​21; Glassner 2004: 282–​283.

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Even if Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe’s accession to the throne was not smooth, his eighteen-​year reign is marked by continuity with that of his brother. Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe was active throughout Babylonia, particularly at Ur, a city that had also received Nebuchadnezzar’s patronage. The war with Assyria resumed, possibly in conjunction with a rebellion in Babylonia that drew in Tiglath-​pileser I.43 Tiglath-​pileser enjoyed two victories, penetrating into Babylonia and burning the palace at Babylon,44 but by his tenth year, Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe was granting land located in the border region between the two kingdoms to a veteran of his victory over Assyria.45 It is possible that it was during this successful campaign or one that came later that Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe removed the cult statues from the Assyrian city of Ekallatum. No contemporary account of this act survives, but four centuries later, Sennacherib would claim that he brought back to Assyria the cult statues that Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe had stolen.46 Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe’s military successes may have weakened Assyria late in Tiglath-​pileser’s reign,47 but he does not seem to have been able to exploit his gains. Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe predeceased Tiglath-​pileser at a time when severe famine gripped the land and Aramean tribal groups were plundering Assyrian cities.48 In spite of the difficulties that Marduk-​nadin-​ahhe faced toward the end of his reign, his son, Marduk-​šapik-​zeri (1081–​1069 bc), was able to succeed him. If Daisuke Shibata is correct that the Broken Obelisk, which has traditionally been assigned to Aššur-​bel-​kala of Assyria, was actually commissioned by his father Tiglath-​pileser I (­chapter 37 in this volume), then an Assyrian campaign reached the northern Babylonian district of Dur-​Kurigalzu early in Marduk-​šapik-​zeri’s reign, resulting

43. Llop 2003: 204–​210. On the following events, see also ­chapter 37 in this volume. 44. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4:37–​51 and A.0.87.10:36–​53. 45. King 1912: no. 8: i 1–​13; Paulus 2014b: 543–​553. 46. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 24: vi 1′–​6′; 2014: no. 223: 48b–​50a. 47. Bloch 2012: 78. 48. Grayson 1975: 189: Assyrian Chronicle Fragment 4: 8–​ 10; Glassner 2004: 188–​189.

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in the conquest of two cities and the capture of the district’s governor, Kadašman-​Buriaš, son of Itti-​Marduk-​balaṭu.49 This possible early setback aside, Marduk-​šapik-​zeri’s rule was remembered in later tradition as prosperous and stable. He repaired Babylon’s walls,50 which may have been necessitated by Tiglath-​pileser’s campaigns, enjoyed military success, and made peace with the Assyrian king, Aššur-​bel-​kala.51 He renovated the Ezida temple at Borsippa and continued to make offerings to the god Sin at Ur.52 Marduk-​šapik-​zeri was the last of Ninurta-​nadin-​ šumi’s line to rule Babylonia and the last king recorded in the Babylonian King List C.53 This list, written as it was on a crudely fashioned tablet, appears to have been copied as a student exercise during or shortly after Marduk-​šapik-​zeri’s reign. It would be instructive to know if the scribe who wrote the Babylonian King List C perceived a disruption in the dynasty following Marduk-​šapik-​zeri’s reign that the Babylonian King List A did not preserve; the latter list records that the Second Dynasty of Isin included four more kings who came after Marduk-​šapik-​zeri. The familial break between Marduk-​šapik-​zeri and his successor, Adad-​ apla-​iddina, would become a feature of royal transitions throughout the remainder of the Second Dynasty of Isin. There is no evidence that any of the three kings who succeeded Adad-​apla-​iddina was a son of his predecessor. Furthermore, it is possible that the tumultuous conditions which plagued the reigns of Adad-​apla-​iddina and those kings who ruled after him resulted in an overlap between the final kings of the Second Dynasty of Isin and the reign of Simbar-​Šipak, the first king of the Second Dynasty of the Sealand, which the Babylonian King List A treated as the successor to the previous dynasty.54

49. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: iii 4–​8. 50. Frame 1995: B.2.7.1. 51. Grayson 1975: 165: Chronicle 21: ii 25′–​27′; 180: Chronicle 24: 4–​7; Walker 1982: 402: Chronicle 25: 27–​28; Glassner 2004: 180–​181; 284–​285. 52. Frame 1995: B.2.7.2; Figulla 1949: no. 143: 15. 53. Poebel 1955; Grayson 1983: 96–​97. 54. Hagens 2002: 65–​66.

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An Assyrian intervention in Babylonia may have occurred late in Marduk-​šapik-​zeri’s reign or shortly after his death and was likely instrumental in bringing Adad-​apla-​iddina (1068–​1047 bc) to the throne. The attribution of the Broken Obelisk to Aššur-​bel-​kala led to an association between the Assyrian campaign that reached Dur-​Kurigalzu, described in that monument’s inscription,55 and the installation of Adad-​ apla-​iddina by Aššur-​bel-​kala as his vassal on the Babylonian throne, recorded in the Assyrian Synchronistic History. Whatever the nature of this Assyrian intervention was, its outcome was that Aššur-​bel-​kala married Adad-​apla-​iddina’s daughter, and took both his new bride and a sizable dowry back with him to Assyria.56 It is not clear why Aššur-​bel-​kala selected Adad-​apla-​iddina to be king of Babylon. Adad-​apla-​iddina was neither the son of his predecessor, nor is it clear that he had any links to the previous royal family. The Assyrian Synchronistic Chronicle identified Adad-​apla-​iddina as the “son of Esagil-​šadduni, son of a nobody,” a clear indicator of non-​royal ancestry. However, a passage in one Babylonian chronicle does suggest that Adad-​apla-​iddina may have claimed dynastic legitimacy as a descendant of Itti-​Marduk-​balaṭu,57 the second king of the Second Dynasty of Isin. Nevertheless, it is also possible that this Itti-​Marduk-​balaṭu was not the earlier king, but rather the father of the aforementioned Kadašman-​Buriaš, governor of Dur-​Kurigalzu. Adad-​apla-​iddina was able to retain the throne for twenty-​two years, during which time he was active as a builder throughout Babylonia. He repaired the city walls at Babylon and Nippur, carried out restoration projects on temples at Kiš, Isin, Larsa, and Ur, and made donations to the temples at Borsippa and Uruk.58 These efforts were necessitated, however, by frequent Aramean and Sutian raids and a rebellion led by a would-​be usurper that would live long in the Babylonian memory. 55. Grayson 1991: A.0.89.7: iii 4–​8. 56. Grayson 1975: 165: Chronicle 21: ii 32′–​37′; Glassner 2004: 180–​181. See also ­chapter 37 in this volume. 57. Grayson 1975: 180: Chronicle 24: 8–​9; Walker 1982: 402: Chronicle 25: 29; Glassner 2004: 284–​285. 58. Frame 1995: B.2.8.1–​11 and 1001.

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According to the Babylonian chronicles, Arameans and the usurper desecrated sanctuaries throughout Babylonia and destroyed the cities of Akkad, Der, Nippur, Sippar, and Dur-​Kurigalzu.59 A few decades after Adad-​apla-​iddina’s reign had ended, Simbar-​Šipak would describe in an inscription how Arameans and Sutians had looted Nippur, when Adad-​apla-​iddina was king, and had stolen the throne of Enlil which Nebuchadnezzar I had installed there.60 Similarly, a priest of Šamaš from Sippar was able to describe to Nabû-​apla-​iddina, who ruled Babylonia in the early half of the ninth century, how the Sutians had destroyed the cult statue of Šamaš.61 The priest’s account was in all likelihood a description of events that had occurred in Adad-​apla-​ iddina’s time. The destruction wrought by the many Aramean and Sutian depredations throughout Babylonia may have been a factor in motivating Adad-​ apla-​iddina to support efforts to preserve Babylonian scholarship. A list of kings and sages compiled at Uruk in the Hellenistic period identified two ummânus (master scholars) who served Adad-​apla-​iddina in succession: Esagil-​kin-​apli, whose efforts compiling and editing ritual and divinatory texts resulted in the emergence of a canonical corpus of exorcistic texts attributed to him in the first millennium bc, and Esagil-​ kina-​ubbib, who was credited with authoring the composition known as the “Babylonian Theodicy.”62 Both men were part of a broader intellectual current in Babylonia that may have been ongoing through the transition from the late second millennium to the early centuries of the first millennium. This trend spawned undertakings that witnessed many Babylonian literary and scholarly traditions taking on canonical forms. These activities were attributed to a few significant master scholars whose names were remembered and revered within scribal circles for centuries

59. Grayson 1975: 181: Chronicle 24: 8–​11; Walker 1982: 402: Chronicle 25: 29–​34; Glassner 2004: 284–​285. 60. Frame 1995: B.3.1.1: 10–​19. 61. King 1912: no. 36: i 1–​12; Paulus 2014b: 650–​659. 62. Frahm 2011: 324.

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to come,63 but a host of anonymous scribes and scholars contributed to the processes that shaped Babylonian intellectual traditions as they were preserved and augmented during the mid-​first millennium.64 It is to Adad-​apla-​iddina’s credit that he was able to enjoy a long tenure on the throne despite the many challenges he faced. His building activities throughout Babylonia and his possible support for the preservation of scholarly traditions indicates that he was a capable and conscientious king. As Aššur-​bel-​kala’s appointee on the Babylonian throne, Adad-​apla-​iddina may have been an Assyrian vassal. It is possible that such a relationship contributed to his longevity, though there is no indication that he ever benefited from Assyrian support against the many internal threats that arose during his reign. If Adad-​apla-​iddina had been an Assyrian vassal, it would be understandable that such a status galled him. He may have desired to diminish Assyria’s power relative to that of Babylonia, and an opportunity may have presented itself two years after Aššur-​bel-​kala died. In that year, Aššur-​bel-​kala’s son, Eriba-​Adad II, was deposed by his uncle, Šamši-​Adad IV. The Assyrian Royal Chronicle does not indicate that Adad-​apla-​iddina had a hand in Eriba-​Adad’s removal, but it does state that Šamši-​Adad staged his coup after coming north from Babylonia,65 so it is conceivable that Adad-​apla-​iddina had supported the overthrow.66 Textual evidence for the final three kings of the dynasty is scarce. The names of these kings are preserved in the Babylonian King List A, but their deeds are largely forgotten in the chronicle tradition, with the exception of a mention of Nabû-​šumu-​libur in a fragmentary passage of the Religious Chronicle.67 Marduk-​ahhe-​eriba (1046 bc) only ruled for six months, during which time he oversaw a land grant at the town of

63. Lambert 1957; 1962. 64. Frahm 2011: 86–​110. 65. Glassner 2004: 142–​143. 66. Brinkman 1968: 143–​144. 67. Grayson 1975: 133: Chronicle 17: i 16; Glassner 2004: 298–​299.

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Bit-​Piri’-​Amurru in northern Babylonia.68 A fragmentary kudurru stone found at Babylon probably preserves the name of his successor who ruled for twelve years as Marduk-​zera-​ibni (1045–​1034 bc).69 The final king of the dynasty, Nabû-​šumu-​libur (1033–​1026 bc),70 ruled for eight years and is attested on an inscribed duck weight excavated at Kalhu (modern Nimrud) in the Assyrian heartland and a document dated at a town near Nippur in his seventh year in which the governor of Nippur—​in an act suggesting unstable conditions—​ransomed a man who had been captured by “the enemy.”71 The paucity of evidence for these three kings limits our knowledge about the extent of their power, but it may be relevant that none of the sources attributable to them come from southern Babylonia where the Second Dynasty of the Sealand, which followed the Second Dynasty of Isin in the king list, had its origins. Recalling the statement in a chronicle that Adad-​apla-​iddina was challenged by a usurper, it is conceivable that rival kings were recognized simultaneously in different parts of Babylonia. Therefore, it is productive to entertain the possibility that part of the eighteen-​year reign of Simbar-​Šipak, the first king of the Second Sealand Dynasty, overlapped with some of the twenty-​one years that his three predecessors occupied the throne at Babylon. Providing support to this proposition are, first, a Babylonian chronicle that omits any mention of the last three kings from the Second Dynasty of Isin between consecutive passages summarizing the reigns of Adad-​apla-​iddina and Simbar-​Šipak,72 and second, the so-​ called Sungod Tablet (figure 41.3) from Sippar in which Simbar-​Šipak was the first king to address the destruction of the statue of Šamaš that had occurred when Adad-​apla-​iddina had been king.73 However, the 68. Hilprecht 1893–​1896: I 149; Paulus 2014b: 606–​609. 69. Paulus 2014b: 610–​612. 70. Brinkman 2001e: 34. 71. Frame 1995: B.2.11.1; Lackenbacher 1983: 143–​154; Paulus 2014b: 613–​617. 72. Grayson 1975: 180–​181 Chronicle 24: 8–​11; Glassner 2004: 284–​287. 73. King 1912: no. 36 i 13–​23; Paulus 2014b: 650–​659.

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Figure 41.3. The Sungod Tablet of Nabû-​apla-​iddina. British Museum, BM 91000. © The Trustees of the British Museum Creative Commons. Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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possibility that these three kings overlapped with Simbar-​Šipak’s reign runs into some challenges when confronted with the evidence from Nippur. The tablet dated near Nippur in Nabû-​šumu-​libur’s seventh year indicates that he was recognized—​if not active there—​as king. Simbar-​Šipak was also active at Nippur, having set up a throne to Enlil there. It is unlikely that Nabû-​šumu-​libur would have been recognized as king at Nippur in his penultimate year had Simbar-​Šipak’s dedication occurred prior to that year. However, Nippur’s geographic location in central Babylonia between the Sealand in southern Babylonia and Babylon in the north could have resulted in its allegiance being split between the two regions, but on balance, the evidence—​ though not conclusive—​favors the interpretation that Simbar-​Šipak followed Nabû-​šumu-​libur on the throne and did not rule as a contemporary.

41.3.  The Second Dynasty of the Sealand Either as a contemporary of the last kings of the Second Dynasty of Isin, or as their successor, Simbar-​Šipak (1025–​1008 bc) was the more consequential ruler.74 Two Babylonian chronicles refer to him as a “soldier of the Sealand,” creating the impression that he was a military adventurer who seized the throne from a powerbase in the marshy region of southern Babylonia downriver from Uruk and Ur. A kudurru dated to his twelfth year and witnessed at the town of Sahritu, which may have been located near Uruk,75 by two officials from the Sealand and Ea-​ mukin-​zeri, the šangû-​priest of Eridu, provides contemporary evidence for his ties to that region.76 The claim found in both of the chronicles, as well as on an inscribed bronze arrowhead, that Simbar-​Šipak was the

74. Brinkman 2011a. 75. Zadok 1985: 264. 76. King 1912: no. 27: 14–​15, bottom edge 1; Paulus 2014b: 618–​621.

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descendant of a man named Eriba-​Sin may also have been an attempt to connect him to earlier traditions of kingship in southern Babylonia.77 The Dynastic Chronicle articulates an unlikely dynastic link for Simbar-​ Šipak by stating that Eriba-​Sin had died in the service of Damiq-​ilišu (1816–​1794 bc), the last king of the First Dynasty of Isin (­chapter 14 in volume 2).78 From his base in southern Babylonia, Simbar-​Šipak was able to extend his power northward. It is possible that he campaigned as far north as Zamua (or Mazamua), a region north of Babylonia in the foothills of the Zagros Mountains centered on the Shahrizor Plain.79 According to a passage in the annals of Ashurnasirpal II of Assyria (883–​ 859 bc), a Babylonian king named Sibir in the text—​possibly a rendering of Simbar-​Šipak—​had previously led a campaign to the region and had succeeded in capturing the city of Atlila.80 Ashurnasirpal II stated that he rebuilt the city and renamed it Dur-​Aššur. What is of interest here is the possibility that Simbar-​Šipak had pushed Assyrian power back by capturing a city that Ashurnasirpal II would later consider to be of strategic importance. Domestically, a distinguishing feature of Simbar-​Šipak’s reign was his attempt to address the damage done to the major cult centers within the kingdom that had occurred during the many Aramean and Sutian raids. In the ninth century bc, the priest of Šamaš gave testimony that was recorded on the Sungod Tablet (figure 41.3) stating that Simbar-​Šipak had erected an insignia of Šamaš at Sippar and had established regular offerings after the destruction of Šamaš’s statue.81 At Nippur, Simbar-​ Šipak refashioned the throne of Enlil that had originally been installed by Nebuchadnezzar I. According to Simbar-​Šipak’s inscription which had been engraved on the throne, Arameans and Sutians had plundered

77. Grayson 1975: 142: Chronicle 18: v 2–​3; Chronicle 24: 12; Glassner 2004: 132–​ 133; 286–​287; Frame 1995: B.3.1.2. 78. Beaulieu 2013: 7–​8. 79. Parpola and Porter 2001, 11. 80. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 84. See also ­chapter 37 in this volume. 81. King 1912: no. 36: i 13–​23; Paulus 2014b: 650–​659.

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it from the temple during Adad-​apla-​iddina’s reign, but the Assyrians later seized its ornaments from the Arameans and returned them to Nippur, where Simbar-​Šipak subsequently had the throne refashioned and reinstalled in the temple. The text of Simbar-​Šipak’s inscription possibly modified the original one set up by Nebuchadnezzar I,82 but it introduced the concept that Marduk sat enthroned as the Enlil of the gods to pronounce Simbar-​Šipak’s fate. This was a significant syncretism between Marduk and Enlil, and it served to articulate both Marduk’s absorption of Enlil’s traits and his supplanting of Enlil as the head of the Babylonian pantheon. This shift had its origins in the late Kassite Dynasty, received further inspiration from Nebuchadnezzar I’s conquest of Elam, and continued to gain impetus throughout the first quarter of the first millennium. In spite of his possible military success and apparent domestic accomplishments, Simbar-​Šipak’s reign did not end well. He was “slain by the sword” in his eighteenth year, according to the Dynastic Chronicle, and was “buried in the palace.” His immediate successor was named Ea-​ mukin-​zeri (1008 bc), a man described as a usurper by the Dynastic Chronicle and possibly identical to the previously mentioned šangû-​ priest who had been one of the witnesses to the kudurru stone dated in Simbar-​Šipak’s twelfth year.83 According to the Babylonian King List A, Ea-​mukin-​zeri ruled for only five months,84 and the Dynastic Chronicle credits him with just three months on the throne.85 His brief reign and ignoble burial in the swamp of Bit-​Hašmar, as described in the Dynastic Chronicle, indicate that Ea-​mukin-​zeri ultimately failed in his attempt to seize power for himself. The man who replaced Ea-​mukin-​zeri as king, Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe (1007–​1005 bc),86 may have been Simbar-​Šipak’s son. The Dynastic

82. Hurowitz 1997: 39–​47. 83. King 1912: no. 27: bottom edge 1; Paulus 2014b: 618–​621. 84. Grayson 1983: 92. 85. Grayson 1975: 143: Chronicle 18: v 5–​6; Glassner 2004: 132–​133. 86. Brinkman 1980c.

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Chronicle calls him the son of Sappaya, which could be construed as a hypocoristic of Simbar-​Šipak. The relevant section concludes its entry for his reign with the phrase “in the palace,” a likely indication that Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe, like Simbar-​Šipak before him, had been buried in this location.87 The testimony of the aforementioned Sungod Tablet (figure 41.3) indicates that Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe’s time on the throne was marked by a famine that caused the regular offerings to the sungod Šamaš at Sippar to be halted.88

41.4.  The Bazi Dynasty The three kings who made up the Bazi Dynasty ruled for a total of at most twenty years. Their origins were likely Kassite; Bit-​Bazi was a Kassite clan, and all three kings were identified as a “son of Bazi” in the Dynastic Chronicle.89 The territory controlled by Bit-​Bazi was probably located near the confluence of the Diyala and Tigris Rivers in northeastern Babylonia.90 The dynasty’s founder, Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi (1004–​ 988 bc), ruled for either seventeen or fourteen years, according to the conflicting testimony of the Babylonian King List A and the Dynastic Chronicle. This discrepancy could either be due to an error or possibly to an overlap between the end of the preceding Second Dynasty of the Sealand and the establishment of the Bazi Dynasty. Recalling that Simbar-​Šipak’s dynasty had its origins in the south, it is conceivable that Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe’s three-​year reign coincided with the beginning of Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi’s seventeen years on the throne. In this scenario, Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi would have consolidated his power in the north from Bit-​Bazi during his first three years, while Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe was recognized as king elsewhere, and then ruled without a rival for the next fourteen years.

87. Grayson 1975: 143: Chronicle 18: v 7; Glassner 2004: 132–​133. 88. King 1912: no. 36: i 24–​28; Paulus 2014b: 650–​659. 89. Grayson 1975: 143: Chronicle 18: v 9–​12; Glassner 2004: 132–​133. 90. Nashef 1982: 54–​55.

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As king, Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi was able to revive the offerings to the god Šamaš that had lapsed under Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe. According to the Sungod Tablet (figure 41.3), he did this by allocating offerings that had been intended for the god Marduk to Šamaš instead, and by also donating a field located in Babylon to Šamaš.91 These acts indicate that the rites of Šamaš’s cult and its attendant priests were being maintained at Babylon. It may have been that Sippar remained vulnerable to raids from Arameans at this time or was beyond the king’s effective control. The impression that Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi’s power was circumscribed for much of his reign could be furthered if the cryptic phrase “from the throne” in the Eclectic Chronicle is an indication that the statue of Marduk remained on its dais during the New Year Festival in both his fifth and fourteenth years.92 In chronicle entries describing later periods, Marduk’s going out from Babylon for the festival was prevented by unrest in the countryside caused by hostile Arameans, and Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi may have faced similarly unstable conditions. Furthering the impression that Eulmaš-​šakin-​ šumi’s influence throughout Babylonia was limited and that his ultimate power base was not Babylon is the report in the Dynastic Chronicle that he was buried at the palace at Kar-​Marduk,93 a town that appears to have functioned as the dynasty’s royal seat, located in the region of Bit-​Bazi.94 Like his predecessor, Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur I (987–​985 bc) was called a “son of Bazi” in the Dynastic Chronicle, but it is not known if he was the son of Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi. As with Eulmaš-​šakin-​šumi, both the Babylonian King List A and the Dynastic Chronicle disagree on the length of his reign; the former gives him three years, while the latter records only two. In his second year, Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur I heard and passed judgement on a murder trial at the town of Kar-​Marduk, strengthening the impression that this was Bit-​ Bazi’s royal seat.95

91. King 1912: no. 36: i 29–​ii 17; Paulus 2014b: 650–​659. 92. Grayson 1975: 181: Chronicle 24: 14; Glassner 2004: 286–​287. 93. Grayson 1975: 143: Chronicle 18: v 9; Glassner 2004: 132–​133. 94. Brinkman 1968: 162; Nashef 1982: 157. 95. Brinkman 2001f: 525.

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This trial was the first incident in a series of legal entanglements that embroiled two families until a resolution was achieved during the reign of Nabû-​mukin-​apli, thirty-​two years later.96 The Arad-​Sibitti Kudurru, which commemorated these events, indicates that famine and economic hardship were frequent during these decades and that the crown lacked sufficient authority to collect taxes regularly.97 Such conditions may have created unfavorable memories of Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur I’s rule, justifying the suggestion that he is the unnamed king whose three-​year reign was marked by apocalyptic events in Prophecy Text A,98 a later prophetic text.99 Širikti-​Šuqamuna (985 bc), who succeeded Ninurta-​ kudurri-​ uṣur I and ruled for only three months as the last king of the Bazi Dynasty, was likely his predecessor’s brother.100 According to a later Babylonian chronicle, he was the brother of Nabû-​kudurri-​uṣur (i.e., Nebuchadnezzar),101 likely a scribal error for Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur. Širikti-​Šuqamuna’s ultimate fate may have been better than that of his brother, whose final resting place was not recorded; the Dynastic Chronicle states that Širikti-​Šuqamuna was buried in the palace. This may be a reference to the palace at Kar-​Marduk where Eulmaš-​šakin-​ šumi had also been buried.

41.5.  The Elamite Dynasty The Elamite Dynasty, which followed the Bazi Dynasty, consisted of a single king, Mar-​biti-​apla-​uṣur (984–​979 bc),102 who according to the

96. King 1912: no. 9: top 1–​25; Paulus 2014b: 622–​636. 97. King 1912: no. 9: iii 1–​15, iva 15; Paulus 2014b: 622–​636. 98. Longman 1990: 153–​154, 161. 99. Neujahr 2012: 14–​27. 100. Brinkman 2011b. 101. Grayson 1975: 130: Chronicle 15: 20–​21; Glassner 2004: 212–​213. 102. Brinkman 1990b: 357.

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Dynastic Chronicle was of Elamite descent.103 He possessed a Babylonian name, but the theophoric element in his name, the god Mar-​biti, was associated with the city of Der in eastern Babylonia.104 Therefore he may have been associated with the region of Babylonia that was closest to Elam. Several bronze arrowheads bearing an inscription giving him the title “king of the world” survive,105 but no other textual evidence exists from his reign. Whatever his origins, he was buried within the palace of Sargon according to the Dynastic Chronicle, a fitting resting place for a legitimate Babylonian monarch.

41.6.  The Dynasty of “E” From the tenth century until the last quarter of the seventh century bc, Babylonia experienced little dynastic continuity and was frequently controlled either by Assyria, both directly or more often through vassal kings, or by Chaldean monarchs who took the title “king of Babylon.” The chronographic documents that deal with this period reflect the chaos of these centuries. The Babylonian King List A treats kings from this era as members of the Dynasty of E, a writing which could be interpreted as the Dynasty of Babylon.106 No text of the Dynastic Chronicle is available for the section that came after the Elamite Dynasty, so it is unknown if the creator of that source also employed the designation Dynasty of E. However, in the surviving text that follows this gap, the Dynastic Chronicle did group subsequent kings into smaller dynasties, suggesting that its compiler used a different set of dynastic designations from those found in the Babylonian King List A.107 In spite of the chaotic conditions of these centuries, there were brief periods of stability and intervals when the throne was passed down within

103. Grayson 1975: 143: Chronicle 18: v 13–​14; Glassner 2004: 132–​133. 104. Krebernik 1990: 356–​357. 105. Frame 1995: B.5.1.1. 106. Brinkman 1968: 166–​168. 107. Beaulieu 2013: 8.

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a ruling family. The first of these groupings began with Nabû-​mukin-​ apli (978–​943 bc),108 who was succeeded by two of his sons: Ninurta-​ kudurri-​uṣur II and Mar-​biti-​ahhe-​iddina. Nabû-​mukin-​apli retained the throne for thirty-​six years, but did face challenging circumstances, making the continuity of his reign all the more remarkable. The Arad-​Sibitti Kudurru mentioned above, which began with a trial overseen by Ninurta-​ kudurri-​uṣur I, reveals an inability on the part of royal officials to collect taxes during the reign of Nabû-​mukin-​apli. Furthermore, the same text indicates that in Nabû-​mukin-​apli’s twenty-​second year, the price of grain had risen to famine levels.109 The presence of hostile Arameans in much of the countryside only exacerbated these conditions and hindered the exercise of royal power throughout the kingdom. The Religious Chronicle records that in Nabû-​mukin-​apli’s seventh and eighth years, Arameans seized positions that prevented the king from coming to Babylon to participate in the New Year Festival (akītu). Likewise, it was reported that his twentieth year was the culmination of a nine-​year period when the proper celebration of the Akitu Festival failed to take place.110 Two complete kudurrus and a fragment of a third, which may have been found at Nippur,111 survive from Nabû-​mukin-​apli’s reign. These provide some information about where the king was active or his rule was recognized. The first kudurru records the purchase of fields and was dated to Nabû-​mukin-​apli’s sixteenth year at Dur-​Šarrukin on the Diyala river, north of the city of Upi (Opis).112 The second kudurru is the aforementioned Arad-​Sibitti Kudurru, which was dated in his twenty-​fifth year. Like Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur before him, Nabû-​mukin-​ apli passed judgment on some of the events recorded in the Arad-​Sibitti Kudurru, having presided over a river ordeal that involved Arad-​Sibitti’s son. Heading the witness list that followed the payments that resolved

108. Brinkman 2001b: 31–​32. 109. King 1912: no. 9: iv a 15; Paulus 2014b: 622–​636. 110. Grayson 1975: 137–​138: Chronicle 17: iii 15; Glassner 2004: 300–​301. 111. Brinkman and Brinkman 1972; Paulus 2014b: 637. 112. Weszeli 2010; Paulus 2014b: 638–​643.

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this dispute were three of the king’s own sons, two of whom would succeed him on the throne. It is possible that the two kudurrus came from the same region, placing them in the general vicinity of Kar-​Marduk and Bit-​Bazi as well. As may have been the case with the kings of the Bazi Dynasty, royal power under Nabû-​mukin-​apli may have also been centered on the confluence of the Tigris and Diyala rivers, at a distance from Babylon and in an area where Arameans posed the least threat. This could account for Nabû-​mukin-​apli’s longevity on the throne despite periodically being prevented from fulfilling his obligations at Babylon. Having served in their father’s administration during the latter part of his lengthy reign, it is conceivable that both Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur II (943 bc) and his brother, Mar-​biti-​ahhe-​iddina (942–​[ . . . ] bc), were older when they ascended to the throne. Ninurta-​kudurri-​uṣur II’s brief reign of only eight months and twelve days may have been due to his not being a young man.113 Nothing is known about the events or length of Mar-​biti-​ahhe-​iddina’s rule,114 and it is likewise not known if the dynasty continued to control the throne with the next king, Šamaš-​mudammiq, and if so, for how long. During Šamaš-​mudammiq’s time as king,115 Assyria began to reassert itself throughout the Near East. The energetic Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc; see c­ hapter 37 in this volume) conducted several expeditions against Šamaš-​mudammiq in northeast Babylonia. The details of these campaigns were recorded in his royal inscriptions, as well as in the Synchronistic Chronicle.116 The Assyrian king claimed victory in every account, including at Idu and Zaqqu,117 the fortresses on the Lower Zab which Nebuchadnezzar I and Aššur-​reša-​iši I had once contested two centuries earlier. Following his victories, Adad-​nerari II annexed territories east of the Tigris, including Arraphe, Lubdu, and

113. Brinkman 2001f. 114. Brinkman 1990a. 115. Brinkman 2008. 116. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2; Grayson 1975: 166–​167: Chronicle 21: iii 1–​21; Glassner 2004: 180–​181. 117. Pappi 2018: 115.

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Der, weakening Babylonian influence in the Zagros Mountains and cutting it off from trade routes that reached eastward across the Iranian plateau. The Synchronistic Chronicle records that Šamaš-​mudammiq died following a defeat at Mount Yalman, possibly located at the southeastern end of the Jebel Hamrin range,118 though it does not specify whether he perished in the immediate aftermath of the defeat or at a later time. The Synchronistic Chronicle may record that Šamaš-​ mudammiq was the father of the next king, Nabû-​šuma-​ukin I, though this would require both the restoration of a broken passage in the text and further emendation, changing the name from Nabû-​šuma-​iškun to Nabû-​šuma-​ ukin. Nabû-​šuma-​ukin’s parentage aside, there is clear evidence that he inaugurated a second period of dynastic continuity that would not be surpassed until the Persian Achaemenid Dynasty of Darius I (521–​486) came to power in the sixth century bc and ruled for three centuries (­chapter 55 in volume 5). The three kings who followed Nabû-​šuma-​ ukin I on the throne were his son, grandson, and great-​grandson, respectively.119 As was the case with his predecessor, Assyrian sources provide the best information about Nabû-​šuma-​ukin I’s reign. The Synchronistic Chronicle indicates that Adad-​nerari II continued to conduct campaigns against Babylonia, and yet the outcome of these expeditions suggests that Nabû-​šuma-​ukin may have reversed some Assyrian gains, pushing the border back to the vicinity of the Lower Zab. More significantly, Nabû-​šuma-​ukin I and Adad-​nerari II exchanged daughters as brides in a diplomatic marriage and established peace between the kingdoms. Though hostilities would occasionally flare up, the royal marriages improved relations between Babylonia and Assyria and created an environment conducive to dynastic stability for Nabû-​šuma-​ukin I’s descendants. Nabû-​apla-​iddina succeeded his father and ruled for at least thirty-​two years and possibly as many as thirty-​four.120 The most famous event of his reign occurred in his thirty-​first year when he oversaw the

118. Röllig 1980. 119. Brinkman 2001d: 33–​34. 120. Paulus 2014b: 661 n. I1.

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remaking of the statue of Šamaš and its installation in the Ebabbar temple at Sippar. This was the culminating event commemorated in the Sungod Tablet (figure 41.3). The frieze at the top of the tablet depicts Nabû-​apla-​iddina being led before the image of Šamaš and presents him as the king who fully restored the Šamaš cult at Sippar after the destruction of the statue during the time of Adad-​apla-​iddina two centuries earlier.121 Nabû-​apla-​iddina reinstated the Ebabbar’s revenues, including the garments and cuts of meat from the sacrificial offerings due to the priests. A copy of a royal edict regulating the distribution of sacrificial remains to the temple officials at the Eanna temple at Uruk originally composed during or shortly after the reign of Nabû-​apla-​iddina demonstrates the king’s concern with the proper support of temple personnel in the southern part of his kingdom.122 Similarly, a tablet with a copy of a list of incense that was to be burned in the Esagil, which according to the copy was originally inscribed on an alabaster tablet that had been set up by Nabû-​apla-​iddina, indicates the king’s concern with the rites being performed at Babylon.123 Four kudurru monuments from Nabû-​apla-​iddina’s reign provide additional evidence about his domestic activities. He restored a temple-​ enterer’s paternal estate,124 judged a dispute between a dead man’s brother and his widow’s adopted heir over the possession of temple prebends,125 sanctioned a document concerned with the regular offerings at Borsippa,126 and granted a deed for land along the Euphrates.127 These kudurru stones highlight Nabû-​apla-​iddina’s involvement in temple affairs. Furthermore, the first and fourth text contain the last recorded

121. King 1912: pl. XCVIII. 122. McEwan 1983. 123. Jursa 2009: 148, 177. 124. King 1912: no. 28; Paulus 2014b: 644–​646. 125. Paulus 2014b: 660–​661. 126. Paulus 2014b: 662–​665. 127. King 1912: no. 29; Paulus 2014b: 647–​649.

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instances in which the governor of Isin acted as a prominent witness in a kudurru, a role associated with the office since the Second Dynasty of Isin more than two centuries earlier. In addition to his domestic activities, Nabû-​apla-​iddina successfully kept Assyrian might at bay throughout his reign. In 885 bc, Tukulti-​ Ninurta II (890–​884 bc; see c­ hapter 37 in this volume) led an Assyrian campaign through northern Babylonia.128 This campaign occurred either early in Nabû-​apla-​iddina’s reign or late in Nabû-​šuma-​ukin’s, but it did not result in any Assyrian annexation of Babylonian territory. Tukulti-​Ninurta’s son, Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc), later claimed to have captured Babylonian border fortresses at Hirimu and Hatru in 879 bc,129 but Tukulti-​Ninurta had made the same claim earlier, diminishing the likelihood that Ashurnasirpal had achieved a real shift in the border. A more consequential confrontation between Assyrian and Babylonian forces took place the following year, when Nabû-​apla-​iddina sent Babylonian troops to assist Kudurru, the governor of Suhu on the Middle Euphrates, against the Assyrians. Ashurnasirpal was victorious and captured many prisoners, including Nabû-​apla-​iddina’s brother, Zabdanu.130 He boasted that news of the defeat intimidated Babylonia and the Chaldeans,131 but he never followed up his victory by marching south into Babylonian territory. Whatever tension existed between the two kingdoms was eventually resolved when Nabû-​apla-​iddina concluded a peace with Ashurnasirpal’s son, Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc; see c­ hapter 38 in this volume).132 Nabû-​ apla-​ iddina died early in Shalmaneser’s reign, but the peace they established would benefit Nabû-​apla-​iddina’s son and successor, Marduk-​zakir-​šumi I. The duration and dates of Marduk-​zakir-​šumi’s lengthy reign are unknown but covered the third quarter of the ninth

128. Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: 52–​55. 129. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 130–​131. 130. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 15–​20. 131. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 23–​24. 132. Grayson 1975: 167: Chronicle 21: iii 22–​26; Glassner 2004: 182–​183.

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century bc and overlapped much of Shalmaneser’s time on the Assyrian throne. In 851 bc, Shalmaneser’s eighth year, Marduk-​zakir-​šumi was confronted with a rebellion throughout Babylonia that was led by his brother, Marduk-​bel-​usati. Shalmaneser intervened on Marduk-​ zakir-​šumi’s behalf and in 851 and 850 bc conducted campaigns into Babylonia, defeating Marduk-​bel-​usati. In the course of these campaigns, Shalmaneser also extracted tribute from the Chaldean tribes and made offerings in the temples at Babylon, Borsippa, and Cutha.133 The depiction of Shalmaneser III and Marduk-​zakir-​šumi I on the central panel of the Nimrud throne base portrayed the two kings as equals (figure 41.4),134 but Shalmaneser’s recognition on the side panel of two tribute-​ bearing Chaldeans as kings and his performance of sacrifices at Babylon, Borsippa, and Cutha, which was a prerogative of Babylonian monarchs, leave little doubt that Shalmaneser viewed Babylonia as being within Assyria’s sphere of influence.135 While Marduk-​bel-​usati’s revolt allowed Shalmaneser to extend his influence over Babylonia, Marduk-​zakir-​šumi’s power appears to have ebbed. How early the insurrection occurred in Marduk-​zakir-​šumi’s reign cannot be determined. At the start of his second year he was able to convene a group of officials that included the governor of Nippur and a representative from the Chaldean tribe of Bit-​Amukani at Babylon to formalize a grant of land and prebends located in Uruk on behalf of the Eanna temple at Uruk.136 The next dated text from Marduk-​zakir-​šumi’s reign is a kudurru that includes both a copy of an inheritance given by the governor of Dilbat to his second son, Kidinnu, that had been finalized in Nabû-​apla-​iddina’s twenty-​ninth regnal year, and a sale concluded in Marduk-​zakir-​šumi’s eleventh regnal year in which Kidinnu, who had become a priest of Lagamal, purchased land.137 The first witness

133. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: 73–​84; Glassner 2004: 182–​183, 286–​287. 134. Brinkman 1990d. 135. Beaulieu 2013: 9. 136. Thureau-​Dangin 1919; Paulus 2014b: 666–​672. 137. Delitzsch 1907: no. 35; Paulus 2014b: 673–​677.

Figure 41.4.  Front of the throne base of Shalmaneser III of Assyria from the Review Palace (“Fort Shalmaneser”) of Kalhu (modern Nimrud), depicting this ruler and Marduk-​zakir-​šumi of Babylon. Iraq Museum, Baghdad. IM 65574. Photograph by Karen Radner.

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to the latter transaction was Kidinnu’s brother, who had become the governor of Dilbat by that time. This transaction, which probably occurred after the rebellion, shows that Marduk-​zakir-​šumi was recognized as king at Dilbat, but also that city offices had been retained and passed down within a local family during the period when control of the throne transitioned from Nabû-​apla-​iddina to Marduk-​zakir-​šumi. The crown may not have had much direct authority over local administrations and the families that tended to fill official positions, a trend that would continue in the following centuries. A second, poorly preserved tablet, provides more information about Marduk-​zakir-​šumi’s relationship with Babylonia’s urban centers. The tablet records inscriptions set up by Marduk-​zakir-​šumi to commemorate exemptions from taxation and other obligations that he granted to Babylon and Borsippa.138 He had granted these to Babylon in his accession year, but did not extend the same privileges to Borsippa until his sixteenth year. The text indicates that Marduk-​zakir-​šumi delayed giving these exemptions to Borsippa due to unrest in Babylonia; his need to retain the support of these cities following the insurrection may have compelled him to concede to their wishes for greater autonomy. A rebellion in Assyria (­chapter 38 in this volume), which occurred late in Marduk-​zakir-​šumi’s reign, presented him with an opportunity to reverse Babylonia’s relationship with its northern neighbor. In 826 bc, Shalmaneser’s son, Aššur-​da’’in-​aplu, led a revolt against his father with the support of twenty-​seven Assyrian cities.139 The fighting continued into the reign of Shalmaneser’s son, Šamši-​Adad V (823–​811 bc), who benefited from support that he received from Marduk-​zakir-​šumi. After the revolt had been put down, Marduk-​zakir-​šumi imposed a treaty upon Šamši-​Adad that may have placed upon Assyria intolerable conditions that caused friction between the two kingdoms.140 Marduk-​ zakir-​šumi died shortly after the treaty was concluded, but his son,

138. Frame 1995: B.6.7.2. 139. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: i 39–​53a; Glassner 2004: 166–​167. 140. Brinkman 1990d.

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Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi, would eventually bear the brunt of Assyrian hostilities, possibly due to Šamši-​Adad V’s displeasure with the treaty. It is unlikely that Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi was a young man when he ascended to the throne; as crown prince he had witnessed the kudurru dated in his father’s second year.141 Very little textual evidence survives for his reign from Babylonia,142 but a glimpse into the continuing vibrancy of the scholarly culture of the time is afforded by a humorous composition found at Uruk. The text probably served as a school exercise and includes a colophon dating it to Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi’s first year.143 In the story, a physician from Isin cured a man from Nippur, but instead of settling his bill on the spot, the man invited the physician to come to Nippur to collect his due and gave the physician directions on how to find his home in Nippur. The physician later traveled to Nippur and followed the man’s directions to a vegetable seller who he was told would be able to point the way to the man’s home. However, in the exchange that followed, the physician was unable to make himself understood and the physician found himself unintentionally insulted by a punch line that was possibly a scatological play on words in Sumerian.144 Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi reigned for approximately a decade. In his final years he faced successive Assyrian campaigns led by Šamši-​Adad V in 814 and 813 bc.145 Šamši-​Adad claimed victory in the first of these invasions, but his advance seems to have been checked at Dur-​Papsukkal near the city of Der by a coalition of Babylonian, Chaldean, Elamite, Kassite, and Aramean forces,146 a possible testament to Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi’s diplomatic skills.147 Having been turned back once, Šamši-​Adad returned the

141. Thureau-​Dangin 1919: 130: iv 17; Paulus 2014b: 666–​672. 142. Brinkman 1990c. 143. George 1993: 63–​72. 144. Finkel 1994. 145. Baker 2008b. 146. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: iii 70b–​iv 45. 147. Brinkman 1968: 209.

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following year, in 813 bc, and succeeded in dislodging Marduk-​balassu-​ iqbi from his stronghold at Gannanati in the Diyala region. He then pursued Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi, eventually capturing him, and brought him back to Assyria as his prisoner. Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi’s immediate successor, Baba-​aha-​iddina, fared no better. While it is possible that Baba-​aha-​iddina had been an official in Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi’s service,148 what, if any, relationship he had to his predecessor is unknown. His only regnal year probably occurred in 812 bc, during which time he faced a third Assyrian invasion. Šamši-​ Adad marched first into the Diyala region, where he captured Baba-​aha-​ iddina and seized the divine statues from Der,149 he then continued his march to Cutha, Babylon, and Borsippa, where he performed sacrifices in imitation of Shalmaneser’s actions. Šamši-​Adad concluded his campaign in Chaldea, where he received the tribute of the Chaldean kings.150 He then established a new border between Babylonia and Assyria and withdrew, only to return the following year to Babylon in a campaign that was mentioned in the eponym chronicle but about which nothing else is known.151 Šamši-​Adad V’s four campaigns weakened Babylonia. In the aftermath of these defeats, the power of the Babylonian monarchy became increasingly diminished and there was at least one period when chroniclers considered it to have been nonexistent.152 Judging by his actions, it is possible that Šamši-​Adad contemplated filling this power vacuum himself. By making offerings at Cutha, Babylon, and Borsippa, extracting taxes and tribute, and using the Babylonian royal title “king of Sumer and Akkad,” it is conceivable that he entertained taking the Babylonian throne. However, he was never formally crowned king at Babylon and it

148. Frame 1995: 110. 149. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.2: iv 11′–​29′a. 150. Grayson 1975: 168–​169: Chronicle 21: iv 1–​14; Glassner 2004: 182–​183. 151. Millard 1994: 32; Glassner 2004: 168–​169. 152. Grayson 1975: 182: Chronicle 24: rev. 8; Glassner 2004: 286–​287.

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may be that he was content to have a weakened Babylonia on his southern border. Eventually the interregnum at Babylon came to an end and three kings—​Ninurta-​apla-​[ . . . ], Marduk-​bel-​zeri, and Marduk-​apla-​uṣur—​ about whom very little is known, reigned as kings of Babylon in succession. For much of this time, Assyria was ruled by Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc; ­chapter 38 in this volume), who continued his father’s dominance over Babylonia. Adad-​nerari conducted campaigns against Der in 795 and 794 bc, but in 785 bc he returned the cult statue of Anu to Der which his father had removed from the city in 813 bc.153 This attentiveness to Babylonian cults extended to Babylon, Borsippa, and Cutha, where Adad-​nerari continued the practice established by his father and grandfather and performed sacrifices and received the remnants of the cultic offerings from the priests. Finally, he received tribute from Chaldean kings, continuing the Assyrian policy of recognizing the Chaldean leaders as Assyrian vassals independent from the king of Babylon’s control.154 Following the accession of Marduk-​apla-​uṣur, the third king to rule after the interregnum, these Chaldean kings began to assert their authority beyond their tribal borders. Marduk-​apla-​uṣur was the first of three consecutive Chaldeans to hold the Babylonian throne,155 inaugurating an era in which Chaldeans vied with Assyrians or their appointees for the title king of Babylon. For more than a century, only a handful of native Babylonians would claim the title of king independently until Nabopolassar was crowned king in 626 bc and ended Assyrian rule over Babylonia. Marduk-​apla-​uṣur was succeeded by Eriba-​Marduk, a Chaldean from the Bit-​Yakin tribe who ascended the throne by 770 bc at the latest. According to the Eclectic Chronicle, Eriba-​Marduk’s father had been Marduk-​šakin-​šumi.156 This man may be identical to a Chaldean

153. Millard 1994: 35, 37; Glassner 2004: 168–​169. 154. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.8: 22–​23. 155. Grayson 1975: 144: Chronicle 18: vi 3–​5; Frame 1995: B.6.14.1: i 1–​2; Glassner 2004: 132–​133, 302–​303. 156. Grayson 1975: 182: Chronicle 24: rev. 9; Glassner 2004: 286–​287.

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from Bit-​Yakin whose name was inscribed on a diorite cylinder seal.157 Marduk-​šakin-​šumi may also have been a man of sufficiently high status to be counted among those Chaldean kings recognized by Assyria and who had sent tribute to Adad-​nerari III.158 Eriba-​Marduk’s reign lasted for at least nine years, concluding before 760 bc, and may have overlapped with parts of the reigns of Shalmaneser IV (782–​773 bc) and Aššur-​dan III (772–​755 bc) in Assyria. Aššur-​dan led three campaigns into Babylonia, reaching Gannanati in the Diyala region in 771 and 767 bc and Marad in central Babylonia in 770 bc.159 The final campaign against Gannanati certainly occurred when Eriba-​ Marduk was on the throne, but conditions in Assyria worsened in the years that followed,160 and whatever threat was posed by Aššur-​dan disappeared. As a result, Eriba-​Marduk was able to reimpose a modicum of control and stability throughout Babylonia. The Dynastic Chronicle describes Eriba-​Marduk as the sole king of a Dynasty of the Sealand,161 and his origins in southern Babylonia may account for the statement found in the Eclectic Chronicle that he was not able to participate in the New Year Festival at Babylon until his second year. The Eclectic Chronicle also records that Eriba-​Marduk defeated Aramean tribes in the vicinity of Babylon and Borsippa that had taken advantage of the anarchy of the previous years to occupy the surrounding countryside, seizing fields from their rightful owners in the process.162 According to the chronicler, Eriba-​Marduk returned this land to the citizens of Babylon and Borsippa. A tablet from Babylon dated in his ninth year in which a large amount of land was acquired from a corporate group known as the “sons of the farmer” may also be an extension of Eriba-​Marduk’s land allocations.163 157. Frame 1995: B.6.10.2002. 158. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.8: 22–​23. 159. Millard 1994: 39–​40; Glassner 2004: 170–​171. 160. Brinkman 1968: 218. 161. Grayson 1975: 144: Chronicle 18: vi 5–​8; Glassner 2004: 132–​133. 162. Grayson 1975: 182–​183: Chronicle 24: rev. 9–​13; Glassner 2004: 286–​287. 163. Brinkman 1989: 37–​47.

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These grants would make an enduring impression on the urban elite of these cities over the following century. A few decades later, Marduk-​apla-​iddina II (king of Babylon in 721–​710 bc, and again in 703 bc; biblical Merodach-​baladan) would make note of that event in the inscription on a kudurru stone in which he too granted land to the people of Babylon.164 More than a century later, a temple-​enterer of Marduk was able to allude to Eriba-​Marduk’s actions in a land-​transfer document dated in 655 bc.165 Some of the land being transferred was designated as hanšu-​land, a category of field that in all likelihood had been created by Eriba-​Marduk to cultivate the support of the urban gentry who dominated the temple hierarchies at Babylon and Borsippa by linking agricultural land to prominent families.166 Although Eriba-​ Marduk was a Chaldean, these achievements clearly garnered for him the goodwill of the citizens of Babylon and Borsippa. The account in the chronicle reflects well on him and indicates that his kingship enjoyed a good reputation two centuries later. The existence of such a positive legacy may explain why Marduk-​apla-​iddina, who was also the leader of the Chaldean Bit-​Yakin tribe, would emphasize his descent from Eriba-​ Marduk in his royal inscriptions and seek to emulate some of his deeds.167 Eriba-​Marduk was also active in southern Babylonia at Uruk, but his legacy there may have been more mixed than it was at Babylon and Borsippa. While very few of Eriba-​Marduk’s own inscriptions survive from his reign,168 an inscribed cylinder of Esarhaddon of Assyria (680–​ 669 bc) mentions that Eriba-​Marduk had previously repaired the cella of the goddess Nanaya within the Eanna temple at Uruk.169 Furthermore, according to Nabonidus of Babylon (555–​539 bc; ­chapter 50 in volume 5), the citizens of Uruk also had a new, less a​ppropriate statue of Ištar 164. Delitzsch 1907: no. 37: iii 51–​52; Paulus 2014b: 693–​703. 165. Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 30 (K. 69 =​BM 36479: 17–​18). 166. Nielsen and Waerzeggers 2016: 331–​344. 167. Brinkman 1984: 46–​48. 168. Frame 1995: B.6.13.1 and B.6.13.2. 169. Frame 1995: B.6.31.18: 13.

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installed within the Eanna during the reign of Eriba-​Marduk, which Nabonidus claimed to have replaced.170 The memory of these acts were preserved in the Uruk Prophecy, a composition from Seleucid Uruk that may have alluded negatively to the reign of Eriba-​Marduk, but more likely to that of his successor Nabû-​šuma-​iškun, in order to comment on events involving Seleucus I and Antiochus I in the early third century bc.171 Eriba-​Marduk was succeeded by Nabû-​šuma-​iškun,172 whose reign ended in 748 bc and lasted at least thirteen years. Nothing is known of the circumstances surrounding his accession to the Babylonian throne, which occurred by 760 bc at the latest. Like Eriba-​Marduk, Nabû-​ šuma-​iškun was a Chaldean, but unlike Eriba-​Marduk, who was from the Bit-​Yakin tribe, Nabû-​šuma-​iškun hailed from the Bit-​Dakkuri tribe. There are indications that Nabû-​šuma-​iškun faced unstable conditions throughout Babylonia. An inscribed cylinder commissioned by the governor of Borsippa, Nabû-​šuma-​imbi of the Eda-​eṭir family, to commemorate his building activities at the Ezida temple, describes fighting that involved the citizens of Babylon, Borsippa, Dilbat, and Duteti, as well as Chaldeans and Arameans, over fields that belonged to the people of Borsippa.173 These hostilities may have been the reason that the statue of Nabû could not travel from Borsippa to Babylon in Nabû-​šuma-​iškun’s fifth and sixth years, according to the Šamaš-​ šuma-​ukin Chronicle.174 Conditions may have improved by the king’s eighth year. A kudurru stone dated to that year at Borsippa records that Nabû-​šuma-​imbi oversaw the induction of one of his kinsmen from the Eda-​eṭir family as a “temple-​enterer” of the god Nabû.175

170. Beaulieu 2001: 32–​33. 171. Beaulieu 1993: 41–​52; 2001: 36. 172. Frame 2001: 33. 173. Frame 1995: B.6.14.2001. 174. Grayson 1975: 130: Chronicle 15: 22; Glassner 2004: 212–​213. 175. Delitzsch 1907: no. 36; Paulus 2014b: 684–​688.

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Two years later, a house sale at Borsippa was also dated to the reign of Nabû-​šuma-​iškun.176 A historical-​literary composition that was copied at Uruk in the Hellenistic period but perhaps first composed during the early years of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire (­chapter 50 in volume 5) portrays Nabû-​ šuma-​iškun as having committed blasphemies against Marduk, Nabû, and Ištar-​of-​Uruk and having violated the privileges of the citizens of Babylon, Borsippa, and Cutha.177 Paul-​Alain Beaulieu has proposed that the composition was created to exonerate the citizens of Uruk from cultic reforms they undertook at the time by placing the blame on Nabû-​ šuma-​iškun.178 Ran Zadok has argued that Nabû-​šuma-​iškun’s origins among the Bit-​Dakkuri tribe, whose territory often impinged on land claimed by Babylon and Borsippa, brought him into more frequent conflict with those cities than had been the case with Eriba-​Marduk, whose home of Bit-​Yakin was located in the Sealand. Zadok also reads into the text evidence of Nabû-​šuma-​iškun’s diplomatic savvy; by sending citizens of Borsippa to Elam and Syria as greeting gifts, he was attempting to cultivate alliances with Assyria’s eastern and western neighbors following Aššur-​dan III’s death in 755 bc, a strategy that Marduk-​apla-​iddina II would employ several decades later.179 With the accession of Nabonassar (747–​734 bc) in 748 bc,180 control of the throne appears to have reverted to a Babylonian who was not affiliated with one of the Chaldean tribes. In spite of his native identity, Nabonassar’s reign was marked by the same internal turmoil that troubled his Chaldean predecessor, and he appears to have had limited influence over most of the kingdom. A chronicle reports that in 745 bc, Nabonassar’s third year as king, Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc; ­chapter 38 in this volume) was crowned king of

176. Zadok 1997. 177. Cole 1994; Frame 1995: B.6.14.1. 178. Beaulieu 2001: 38–​39. 179. Zadok 2017: 265. 180. Brinkman 1984: 39–​42; 1998: 5–​6.

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Assyria after a revolt at Kalhu and soon after launched a campaign through northern and eastern Babylonia that resulted in the Assyrian king pillaging the towns of Rabbilu and Hamrana and removing the gods of Šapazza.181 Tiglath-​pileser’s own annals provide more information about the reach of this campaign. He claims to have brought the cities of Dur-​Kurigalzu and Sippar in northern Babylonia under his control and then to have marched southward following the course of the Tigris until he reached the Uqnu river.182 Over the course of the army’s march, Tiglath-​pileser defeated several Aramean tribes, the subjugation of which appears to have been his primary objective. He did annex Babylonian territory to Assyria, and claimed in his inscriptions to have had authority over Babylonia. As several of his predecessors had done before him, Tiglath-​pileser behaved in the manner of a Babylonian king by making offerings to the patron deities of Sippar, Nippur, Babylon, Borsippa, Cutha, Kiš, Dilbat, and Uruk. However, at no time did Tiglath-​pileser’s army approach Babylon with hostile intent, nor did he threaten Nabonassar’s hold on the Babylonian crown. In all likelihood, Nabonassar was the beneficiary of Tiglath-​ pileser’s intervention against the Chaldeans and Arameans. As a result, Nabonassar may have become reliant on continuing support from Assyria to maintain his hold on power. It is conceivable that Nabonassar even became the Assyrian king’s vassal. While he could claim the title “king of Babylon,” Nabonassar does not appear to have had much influence over the other urban areas of Babylonia. At one point during his reign, the Babylonian chronicles report that Borsippa rebelled against Babylon,183 reviving or continuing the hostile relationship that existed between the two cities during Nabû-​šuma-​iškun’s reign. The letter archive from Nippur, attributed by Steven Cole to that city’s governor, may also reveal that the governor of Nippur addressed Nabonassar in

181. Glassner 2004: 194–​195. 182. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 5: 5b–​8a. 183. Grayson 1975: 71: Chronicle 1: i 6–​8; Glassner 2004: 194–​195.

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their correspondence without his title and as an equal.184 Further south at Uruk, two men took it upon themselves to renovate the New Year Festival House there in 743 bc, Nabonassar’s fifth year. In the inscription that they set up, they stressed their need to do so, claiming that no king or other royal representative had seen fit to attend to that royal obligation.185 Yet in spite of this evident decentralization, there is an uptick in the number of legal and economic documents from both institutional and private contexts that survive from Nabonassar’s reign compared to what is available from the previous centuries.186 The existence of thirty administrative tablets from a temple archive that was possibly located in Uruk or its vicinity and which spans an interval from Nabû-​šuma-​iškun’s tenth year to Nabonassar’s fourteenth year suggests improved institutional stability at this time.187 This trend continued through the Neo-​Babylonian period, possibly reflecting an actual increase in the production of such records due to the emergence of more stable conditions in antiquity and not just an accident of preservation. Despite Nabonassar’s apparent weakness as monarch, his reign was looked upon retrospectively as having ushered in a new era in Babylonian history.188 With the advent of his reign, it is possible to date securely his regnal years and those of the kings that follow. The systematic recording of both lunar and solar eclipses by Babylonian scholars that led to the discovery of the saros eclipse cycle seems to have begun in the middle of the eighth century bc, around the time that Nabonassar was on the throne.189 The occurrence of a lunar eclipse visible at Babylon in the final month of Nabonassar’s accession year just prior to the advent of his first regnal year and a conjunction of the moon and planets in 747 184. Cole 1996b, 52. 185. Frame 1995: B.6.15.2001. 186. Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 63–​64. 187. Jursa 2005: 150. 188. Hallo 1984–​1985: 149–​151. 189. Britton 2007: 89–​91, 97.

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bc may account for the epochal associations that developed later in the Hellenistic period in conjunction with his reign. This interest in astrological phenomena, which was motivated by a desire to associate events with time for predictive purposes, may have stimulated the greater abundance and precision of chronological records of historical events around the time of his reign.190 A few chronographic and historical traditions begin with Nabonassar’s rule: the Babylonian chronicles appear to begin around the time of his reign; he is the first king listed in the Ptolemaic Canon; and Berossus claimed that it was during Nabonassar’s reign that the systematic recording of astrological events began and that he gathered and destroyed the records of previous kings in order to ensure that the reckoning of the Chaldean kings would begin with him. Other chronographic traditions, however, did extend back to cover kings who had ruled prior to Nabonassar’s kingship, so it is apparent that his reign was not the pivotal event that Hellenistic traditions held it up to have been, but it is nevertheless significant that the development of mathematical astronomy in antiquity made it possible for later scholars to retrospectively reconstruct an era attributed to Nabonassar.191 Nabonassar died of natural causes in 734 bc and the throne passed to his son, Nabû-​nadin-​zeri (733–​732 bc).192 This was the first time in nearly a century—​since Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi followed Marduk-​zakir-​šumi on the throne—​that a son succeeded his father as king of Babylon, a possible testament to the stability that Nabonassar had been able to foster within his realm. What little documentation there is pertaining to Nabû-​nadin-​ zeri’s brief reign suggests that the stability Nabonassar had enjoyed was fleeting.193 The Babylonian chronicles record that Nabû-​nadin-​zeri was killed in an insurrection that took place in his second year. The leader of the revolt, a provincial official named Nabû-​šuma-​ukin, claimed the

190. Drews 1975: 44–​45. 191. Glassner 2004: 111–​113; Waerzeggers 2012: 297–​298. 192. Grayson 1975: 72: Chronicle 1: i 12–​13; Glassner 2004: 194–​195; cf. Brinkman 2001c: 32. 193. Brinkman 2001a: 33.

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throne as the second king of that name.194 However, having successfully deposed Nabû-​nadin-​zeri, Nabû-​šuma-​ukin II failed to consolidate his rule over Babylonia. He was only able to hold on to power for one month and thirteen days before being overthrown later in 732 bc by Mukin-​zeri (731–​729 bc),195 a Chaldean leader from the Bit-​Amukani tribe.196 Prior to becoming king, Mukin-​zeri’s activities as chief of the powerful Bit-​Amukani tribe touched upon affairs at the city of Nippur, which was located on the northwestern edge of Bit-​Amukani’s territory. Mention of him in seven letters from the epistolary archive from Nippur that has been attributed to the governor of Nippur may indicate that Nippur’s governor addressed Mukin-​zeri as a peer, was allied with him by treaty, and may have been a recipient of a land grant from Mukin-​ zeri.197 Unfortunately, no royal inscriptions survive from Mukin-​zeri’s brief reign, and as a result there is some confusion about his actual name. He is referred to as Mukin-​zeri in the Babylonian chronicles, the letters from Nippur, and in Assyrian sources, but it is likely that he is identical to a king whose full name is written as Nabû-​mukin-​zeri in a regnal year on a dated legal tablet and possible that he was the same man as an official named Nabû-​mukin-​zeri who was on hand for the dedication of the Akitu temple at Uruk that had taken place in 743 bc during Nabonassar’s reign.198 Mukin-​zeri’s seizure of power in Babylon did not go unnoticed in Assyria. Tiglath-​pileser III was besieging Damascus at the time, but his response was swift. Assyrian correspondence offers a window onto the diplomacy that Tiglath-​pileser employed in Babylonia while engaged in his campaign to remove Mukin-​zeri,199 though the chronological order of

194. Brinkman 2001d: 34. 195. Grayson 1975: 72: Chronicle 1: i 18; Glassner 2004: 194–​195. 196. Brinkman 1997b: 410. 197. Cole 1996a: 434; 1996b: 20, 30–​32. 198. Frahm and Oelsner 2008. 199. Saggs 2001: 9–​67; Fales 2005; Luukko 2012: xxviii–​xxxv.

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these letters is open to interpretation.200 His official inscriptions provide an official account of the campaign,201 but this does not always match the information from the letters. Tiglath-​pileser spent the year 731 bc campaigning in eastern Babylonia along the Elamite border in order to cut Mukin-​zeri off from aid from that direction. Through diplomacy, he was able to thwart Mukin-​zeri’s attempts to gain the support of his fellow Chaldeans from Bit-​Dakkuri and Bit-​Yakin, and Babylonia’s traditional urban centers seem not to have sided with Mukin-​zeri. Even the people of Babylon, who initially resisted Tiglath-​pileser’s overtures,202 eventually abandoned Mukin-​zeri; one letter reports that Mukin-​zeri tried to rally Babylon’s citizens to attack Dilbat, but they refused.203 Eventually Mukin-​zeri fled to Bit-​Amukani, and Tiglath-​pileser shifted his focus to the Chaldean territories that had supported Mukin-​zeri. He devastated Bit-​Šilani and Bit-​Sa’alli, captured their kings, and deported their populations, effectively eliminating both Chaldean tribes. He then turned his attention to Bit-​Amukani, besieging Mukin-​zeri in his tribal capital of Šapiya and capturing the city in fierce fighting.204 It is unclear what Mukin-​zeri’s eventual fate was. The official inscriptions make no mention of what happened to Mukin-​zeri, and the phrase used in the report from Tiglath-​pileser’s commander-​in-​chief (Assyrian turtānu) can be interpreted to mean that Mukin-​zeri was either killed or defeated. The aforementioned legal tablet naming Nabû-​mukin-​zeri as king is dated to his fourth regnal year, and it may be that Mukin-​zeri remained at large and was recognized as king in a few locations in southern Babylonia into 728 bc.205 However, it is also possible that the scribe made an error or was misinformed about events elsewhere.

200. Fales 2011: 97–​111. 201. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: 19b–​23a; no. 51: 11–​15. 202. Luukko 2012: no. 98. 203. Luukko 2012: no. 125. 204. Fales 2011: 108; Luukko 2012: no. 80. 205. Fales 2011: 109.

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Having removed Mukin-​zeri from power, Tiglath-​pileser received tribute from Bit-​Dakkuri and Bit-​Yakin. The detail with which this tribute was described by the scribe who composed this passage suggests that its contents stood out to Tiglath-​pileser and is a testament to the wealth and power of the Chaldean tribes in southern Babylonia.206 Marduk-​apla-​iddina, the chief of Bit-​Yakin, who was also acknowledged in Tiglath-​pileser’s inscription as the king of the Sealand, would later seize the Babylonian throne after the death of Tiglath-​pileser III’s son, Shalmaneser V in 722 bc and rule as Marduk-​apla-​iddina II (721–​710 bc, and again 703 bc). Upon his return from Chaldean territory, Tiglath-​pileser elected to take the Babylonian throne himself, rather than appoint a vassal (cf. also ­chapter 38 in this volume). At the New Year’s festival in Babylon in 728 bc, he took the hand of the god Marduk and was formally acknowledged as king of Babylon.207 Five legal or administrative tablets dated to his first and second regnal years in Babylonia reveal that Babylonian scribes acknowledged Tiglath-​pileser’s kingship,208 and although the title “king of Babylon” was never appended to his name in the standard date formula, he was called “king of the four quarters” in one tablet recording a court decision at Babylon.209 Although Tiglath-​pileser III was the first Assyrian king to be crowned king of Babylon since Tukulti-​Ninurta I (1243–​1207 bc) possibly claimed the title nearly five centuries earlier,210 the groundwork for his decision could be said to have been laid by several Assyrian kings who had preceded him. In the course of their campaigns in the latter half of the ninth century and the first decades of the eighth century bc, Shalmaneser III, Šamši-​Adad V, and Adad-​nerari III had all made offerings at Babylon, Borsippa, and Cutha, or had received the remnants of the cultic offerings

206. Brinkman 1984: 42–​43. 207. Baker 2016b: 23. 208. Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 65. 209. Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 65 (AJ.4 =​BM 78156). 210. Yamada 2003: 72. See ­chapter 32 in volume 3.

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from the priests of those cities. These actions were already tacit acknowledgments on the part of the Babylonian priesthood of the influence these Assyrian kings had over Babylonian affairs; even if they were not formally recognized as kings of Babylon, their power overshadowed that of their Babylonian counterparts. Shalmaneser III began the practice of Assyrian kings accepting tribute from Chaldean rulers identified as kings, and Šamši-​Adad V collected taxes from Babylonian cities. When Šamši-​Adad V took Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi prisoner in 813 bc, he ended a dynasty that had ruled Babylonia over four generations for almost the entirety of the ninth century bc. This tradition of dynastic continuity in Babylonia may have given Šamši-​Adad pause if he ever contemplated making a claim on the Babylonian throne. However, the power vacuum that Šamši-​Adad V created in Babylonia resulted in an interregnum that weakened the crown and led to stretches when Chaldean kings occupied the Babylonian throne, an act which the Assyrians deemed illegitimate. Given the contrasting circumstances of the Babylonian monarchy in the eighth century bc compared to the stability it enjoyed during the previous century, it may have been an easy decision for Tiglath-​pileser to claim the title “king of Babylon.” Tiglath-​pileser was king of Babylon for two years. With his death in 727 bc, the dual monarchies of both Assyria and Babylonia passed to his son, Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc; ­chapter 38 in this volume). It is not known if Shalmaneser came to Babylon to participate in the New Year Festival that would have inaugurated his first regnal year, but he was recognized as king of Babylon in the Babylonian King List A and the Ptolemaic Canon, as well as in a Babylonian chronicle.211 A solitary legal tablet from Babylon dated in his third year in which he was given the title “king of Babylon” attests to the contemporary recognition of his kingship in Babylonia.212 The only action Shalmaneser is known to have undertaken in Babylonia was

211. Baker 2008a: 586. 212. Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 65 (AK.1 =​BM 38239).

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the deportation of Chaldeans from Bit-​Adini, which was probably a subgroup of Bit-​Dakkuri.213 Though Tiglath-​pileser’s time on the Babylonian throne was brief, its impact on the trajectory of Babylonian history during the century that would follow was considerable. The death of Shalmaneser V in 722 bc plunged Assyria into an internal power struggle from which Sargon II (721–​705 bc; ­chapter 38 in this volume) would emerge victorious. The Chaldean chief of Bit-​Yakin, Marduk-​apla-​iddina, took advantage of the situation and seized the Babylonian throne. Sargon II eventually wrested the throne back, and the Assyrian kings of the Sargonid Dynasty would continue to follow Tiglath-​pileser’s example and attempt to assert direct control over Babylonia through the Babylonian crown. For their part, Chaldean chiefs would be at the forefront of Babylonian resistance to Assyrian rule, either taking the throne themselves or supporting other Babylonian rebellions. The time of Sargon’s successors in the seventh century bc represented the pinnacle of Assyrian imperial power and reach, and yet the challenges posed by Babylonia just to the south of the Assyrian heartland would come to embroil Assyria in protracted wars that would sap its resources and contribute to its downfall.

41.7.  Babylonian society Babylonian society underwent considerable change between the twelfth and eighth centuries bc, both in the cities and in the countryside. The urban residents of the Babylonia’s venerable cult centers were an amalgamation of the previous populations that had come to settle in southern Mesopotamia over the preceding centuries.214 They shared a common Babylonian culture predicated on their use of the Babylonian dialect of Akkadian and a pantheon that linked cities together through religious observations and civic festivals, such as when the god Nabû traveled from Borsippa to Babylon for the New Year Festival (akītu) at the start

213. Brinkman 1984: 43. 214. Brinkman 1984: 11.

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of the year. This population relied on the agricultural productivity of the surrounding rural areas for sustenance and for the raw materials necessary for economic activity.215 During the periods of political instability and environmental stress that plagued stretches of the late second and early first millennia, the movement of tribal groups into these areas led to conflict, as was the case when Eriba-​Marduk expelled Arameans from fields surrounding Babylon and Borsippa. However, the Chaldean and Aramean tribes also maintained symbiotic relationships with the cities by participating in trade and religious festivals. At the beginning of this period, the Kassites were the other major population in Babylonia. Having perhaps first appeared in Babylonia in the eighteenth century bc (cf. c­ hapter 18 in volume 2 and ­chapter 33 in volume 3), Kassites comprised the ruling dynasty for more than four centuries in the latter part of the second millennium, and as such they remained both distinct from yet integrated into Babylonian society.216 Following the collapse of the Kassite Dynasty, Kassite tribes and individuals remained powerful and influential throughout Babylonia. Kassite territories in northeastern Babylonian fell within the Babylonian orbit or were allied with the Babylonian king; individuals with Kassite names or tribal affiliations appear in witness lists on kudurrus as officials within the kingdom’s administration; and there were several kings who were probably of Kassite extraction as well. The kings of the Bazi Dynasty were almost certainly Kassite, and judging by the Kassite elements in the names of Simbar-​Šipak and Kaššu-​nadin-​ahhe, the kings of the Second Dynasty of the Sealand may have been Kassites too.217 Kassite social organization appears to have been tribal or based on clan affiliation. Kassites are present in documentation as the sons of Kassite “houses” named for eponymous ancestors who may or may not have been fictitious.218 These Kassite houses could be powerful political

215. Van De Mieroop 1997: 142–​196; Jursa 2010: 26–​33. 216. Paulus 2011. 217. Brinkman 1997a: 8. 218. Tenney 2013: 3703.

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units, and their heads could be influential figures within the royal administration. By the latter part of the period under consideration, however, the influence of the Kassites in Babylonian affairs had begun to wane, though they remained a powerful presence in the Zagros Mountains to the northeast of Babylonia. The Babylonian king Marduk-​balassu-​iqbi was able to recruit Kassites into the coalition that turned back Šamši-​ Adad V of Assyria at Dur-​Papsukkal in 814 bc, and the province of Namri, which had sent forces to Dur-​Papsukkal and was controlled by the Kassite tribe of Bit-​Hamban, remained an impediment to Assyrian expansion in the region into the eighth century bc.219 Even in Hellenistic times, the Kassites were an enduring presence in the region.220 In rural areas, the migrations of Aramean and Chaldean tribes into southern Mesopotamia introduced new populations who could on occasion be a disruptive presence for the established urban centers. The Arameans, who were at times identified as the Ahlamû Arameans in accounts, were the first of these groups attested in the textual record. In the early eleventh century, Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc) claimed to have crossed the Euphrates twenty-​eight times to inflict defeats on Aramean tribes.221 Shortly thereafter, Babylonian texts record that bands of Arameans and Sutians, with whom the Arameans were sometimes paired in Babylonian accounts,222 carried out destructive attacks on Sippar and Nippur during the reign of Adad-​apla-​iddina in the mid-​ eleventh century bc. These raids resulted in the destruction of the cult statue of Šamaš, which disrupted the proper observation of his rites at Sippar until Nabû-​apla-​iddina had the statue remade in the ninth century bc,223 and the removal of the throne of Enlil from Nippur that had been installed there by Nebuchadnezzar I.224 On occasion, Aramean control 219. Nielsen 2012: 407–​408. 220. Brinkman 1980b: 471. 221. Baker 2016a: 20. 222. Kärger and Minx 2013: 368. 223. King 1912: no. 36; Paulus 2014b: 650–​659. 224. Frame 1995: B.3.1.1.

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of the countryside outside Babylon prevented the statue of Nabû from traveling from Borsippa for the Akitu Festival,225 and Eriba-​Marduk was remembered for driving Arameans out of the area and returning the land to the citizens of Babylon and Borsippa.226 However, in spite of the trouble they could cause, the Arameans did become a settled presence in Babylonia, living as cultivators and semi-​nomadic pastoralists, engaging in commerce in the cities, and participating in the religious festivals.227 The Chaldeans were the other tribal group to emerge in Babylonia in this period. Like the Arameans, the Chaldeans were probably of West Semitic origins, but unlike the Arameans, the Chaldeans tended to be more sedentary, occupying both walled settlements, which were the seats of powerful tribal leaders, and a network of dependent villages. The first mention of the Chaldeans appears in an inscription of Ashurnasirpal II in which he described his Babylonian campaign in 878 bc. Ashurnasirpal’s characterization of Chaldean territory as distinct from Babylonia indicates that the Chaldeans were a well-​established population at that time, having probably arrived in Babylonia in the previous century. By the ninth century bc, there were three predominant Chaldean tribes in Babylonia with significant territorial holdings: Bit-​Dakkuri occupied the stretch of the Euphrates south of Dilbat; Bit-​Amukani dominated the central Babylonian plane between Nippur in the north and Uruk in the south; and Bit-​Yakin ruled the Sealand, the swampy region downriver from Ur. In addition to these three tribes, there were two additional tribes, Bit-​Šilani and Bit-​Sa’alli, whose power was significantly curtailed after Tiglath-​pileser III’s campaigns to unseat Mukin-​zeri. The major urban areas of Babylonia also underwent change during this period. Although data from settlement surveys are uneven, there does seem to have been a trend toward de-​urbanization and a shift in habitation patterns to villages and semi-​sedentary pastoralism. The major channel of the Euphrates had meandered west of the older Nippur-​Uruk

225. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 17: iii 4–​15; Glassner 2004: 300–​301. 226. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 24: rev. 9–​15; Glassner 2004: 286–​287. 227. Cole 1996b: 23–​29.

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axis by the early first millennium, likely resulting in population decline at those cities as the region became more suitable for semi-​nomadic herders.228 However, the urban triad of Babylon, Borsippa, and Dilbat may have already begun to flourish during this period, as it would continue to do well into the first millennium. Much of the region around Babylon has not been subject to systematic settlement survey, but by the mid-​ first millennium a branch of the Euphrates was flowing through Babylon from the north from Sippar. A canal that departed this branch north of Babylon flowed toward Cutha, and from the vicinity of Babylon the Banitu Canal branched eastward to Kiš and the Borsippa Canal flowed to the southwest toward Borsippa.229 The depredations caused by tribal movements had a deleterious effect on these populations as well. The diminished power of the crown throughout most of this period also had an impact on the cities, but it was more mixed. Undoubtedly a lack of strong, centralized power contributed to Babylonia’s vulnerability to tribal groups and growing Assyrian pressure, which diminished the king’s ability to tend to the needs of the temples that were at the heart of these cities. However, the frequent weakness of the monarchy also resulted in these cities becoming increasingly autonomous over time. In the ninth and eighth centuries bc, the gradual devolution of royal power to local magnates meant that the authority of the king was often rivaled at cities throughout Babylonia: on a few occasions the king resorted to armed conflict with other cities; it is possible that the governor of Nippur addressed the king as a peer in his correspondence; and leading citizens at different cities carried out duties that had traditionally been within the purview of the king. To retain the support of these urban centers, the monarchy was sometimes compelled to make concessions to them in the form of exemptions from providing corvée labor and other tax obligations, and the leading citizens jealously guarded these privileges from kings who would take them away. The composition “If a King

228. Brinkman 1984: 3–​10; Cole 1996b: 13–​14. 229. Pedersén 2014: 112–​118.

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Does Not Heed Justice,” a copy of which was discovered in the so-​called governor’s archive from Nippur,230 expresses this sentiment by warning that any king who would ignore the traditional privileges of the different cities risked divine punishment. It is unlikely that these rights extended to all urban residents. Rather, they were limited to an urban elite: a segment of the population defined by its temple affiliations, land ownership, or presence in local governance, and often all three. The families that constituted the college of priests and temple scribes were an especially restricted group shaped by pedigree and education. This was an essentially endogamous group that typically intermarried within closely aligned circles.231 Parentage was a chief determinant of suitability for entrance into the priesthood, and it was critical that an initiate be able to prove descent from a recognized priestly lineage.232 In addition to needing the right family lineage, initiates had to possess a cuneiform education that, at the more advanced level, required students to master an esoteric curricula in ritual, divination, magic, and the like.233 Tablets that preserved the knowledge of these specialist fields contained writings that were intentionally obscure, and colophons on these tablets stressed the need to keep their contents secret.234 The status of the urban elite in many cities was also projected through the use of ancestral names and occupational titles that served as family names. Family names were in use for the entire period under consideration in this chapter. The Arad-​Ea family can be traced back furthest in time to an Arad-​Ea who was the father of a šatammu (temple administrator) of Kurigalzu II (1332–​1308 bc).235 Descendants of Arad-​Ea appear on kudurrus dated to the twelfth-​century Kassite kings Meli-​Šipak (1186–​1172 bc) and Marduk-​apla-​iddina I (1171–​1159 bc) and reappear 230. Cole 1996a: 268–​274. 231. Still 2019: 29–​65. 232. Waerzeggers and Jursa 2008. 233. Gesche 2001: 210–​212. 234. Lenzi 2013. 235. Brinkman 1993.

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thereafter beginning with the kudurrus of Nebuchadnezzar I.236 Similarly, the members of the Sin-​leqe-​unninni family from Uruk claimed descent from an eponymous Kassite-​period scholar whom they believed was the author of the Epic of Gilgamesh,237 and the priests who sought the restoration of the statue of Šamaš at Sippar over generations between the eleventh and ninth centuries may have been early members of the Šangû-​ Sippar (“Priest of Sippar”) family.238 There was, however, a pronounced increase in the usage of family names beginning in the eighth century bc, and they became commonplace by the sixth century bc. They were first used frequently in texts from Babylon, Borsippa, and Dilbat. The practice was adopted at Kiš and Sippar in northern Babylonia and to a lesser extent at Uruk in Ur in the south. The one city where it does not seem to have taken hold was Nippur. Use of these names reflects the strong affiliation many families had with their native cities.239 The increased use of family names was probably a response to political realities in Babylonia and reflected the growing influence of local elites at the different cities. As the Babylonian monarchy declined in the ninth century bc and local autonomy increased, shifting power dynamics and competition between local families within the cities probably led to the accentuation of family identity.240 Furthermore, as the Assyrians became more involved in Babylonia and contended with the Chaldeans for control of the Babylonian throne, both sides attempted to cultivate the support of the urban elite, who were eager to have their traditional status acknowledged and therefore had an incentive to use identifiers that communicated their pedigree. While it was difficult for non-​elites to rise to elite status, the usage of family names does reveal that members of elite families from one city could move into elite circles in other cities due to their wealth or

236. Paulus 2014b: 925. 237. Beaulieu 2000: 3–​5. 238. Bongenaar 2000: 77–​78. 239. Nielsen 2011: 223–​229. 240. Nielsen 2011: 283–​289.

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specialized training.241 Even when Babylonia was at its most decentralized, there were social networks between cities that facilitated such movements, and these networks probably became more active as Assyria imposed its authority. The Assyrian desire to integrate Babylonia into a network they could administer as part of their empire, but which was also divided enough to rule, may have also further strengthened the use of family names while at the same time facilitating the movement of urban elites throughout Babylonia.242

41.8.  Babylonian culture In spite of the instability that often marred the four centuries between the accession of Nebuchadnezzar I in 1125 bc and the death of Tiglath-​ pileser III in 727 bc, Babylonian culture endured and even underwent important developments, some of which have already been touched upon in the preceding sections. What follows is a partial summary meant to introduce the reader to the intellectual climate of the period. Consistency and change both emerged from scholarly practices that were rooted in the cuneiform culture of the second millennium. This was an inherently conservative tradition that prized continuity over innovation, locating authority in the belief that all scholarly knowledge had been received through a process of transmission that could be traced back through a line of ummânus (master scholars) to the apkallus, antediluvian sages to whom that knowledge had been first revealed in the distant past.243 As a consequence, the concept of authorship was largely alien to Babylonian scholarship. Instead, innovation largely stemmed from the approach that generations of scholars took to tending the tradition. It is possible to infer that beginning with the Kassite Dynasty in the second millennium, scholars started to pursue editorial projects with royal patronage that introduced organizational principles to the cuneiform

241. Nielsen 2009. 242. Nielsen 2018a. 243. Lenzi 2008a: 147–​149; 2008b.

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corpus, standardization to many textual traditions, and eventually scholarly commentaries on the contents of these texts.244 There are indications that these approaches to scholarly knowledge continued or were resumed with the support of the kings of the Second Dynasty of Isin.245 These kings were in the practice of consulting with scholars who could divine the will of the gods. Furthermore, later tradition had it that two celebrated ummânus served at the courts of Nebuchadnezzar I and Adad-​apla-​iddina. The first of these, a scholar named Esagil-​kina-​ubbib, was considered the author of the so-​called Babylonian Theodicy, a composition that explores divine will and human suffering,246 and the second, Esagil-​kin-​apli, was credited with compiling and editing the so-​called Exorcist’s Manual, a series of ritual and diagnostic texts known from numerous first-​millennium exemplars.247 Events that occurred during the Second Dynasty of Isin may account for the interest in maintaining Babylonian scholarship and even a burst of creativity. Nebuchadnezzar I’s defeat of Elam and likely restoration of the Marduk statue to Babylon may have stimulated beliefs about Marduk’s status within the Babylonian pantheon, particularly among members of the Marduk priesthood at Babylon who were formulating ideas about Marduk that appealed to royal power,248 and Adad-​apla-​iddina’s efforts to address the destructive Sutian and Aramean raids on Babylonian cult sites through modest rebuilding programs may have motivated attempts to collect and preserve cuneiform scholarship from these sites.249 The innovations that emerged during this period were shaped by continuity of second millennium traditions that informed scholarly responses to the upheavals of the early first millennium, as well as by retrospective

244. Lenzi 2015: 164–​165. 245. Frahm 2011: 321–​332. 246. Oshima 2014: 115–​168. 247. Frahm 2018: 29–​33. 248. Finn 2018: 46–​53; Nielsen 2018b: 205. 249. Frahm 2001: 182–​183.

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tendencies in the latter part of the first millennium to make claims on the events and developments that occurred between 1125 and 727 bc. This scholarly climate probably had ramifications for the development of compositions devoted to Marduk. By the second quarter of the first millennium bc, the god Marduk had become ensconced as head of the Babylonian pantheon, replacing Enlil as king of the gods after having grown in significance throughout the second millennium bc.250 Lambert identified the Second Dynasty of Isin generally and the reign of Nebuchadnezzar I specifically as the crucial turning point in Marduk’s elevation.251 There is much to recommend this thesis, even if the shift was perhaps more gradual than what Lambert proposed. The kudurru fragment from the time of Nebuchadnezzar I that came to light in 2019 accentuates the literary trope found in the Šitti-​Marduk kuddurru of Nebuchadnezzar I as the king who avenged Babylonia by defeating the Elamites who had toppled the Kassite Dynasty thirty-​three years prior to his accession. The text of the new kudurru, however, describes Enlil as the god who called upon Nebuchadnezzar to invade Elam. This depiction of Enlil is consistent with his traditional status as king of the gods that he enjoyed throughout the second millennium bc and is found in other inscriptions from Nebuchadnezzar’s reign; Enlil also held the title “king of the gods” in a kudurru from Nippur dated in Nebuchadnezzar’s sixteenth year. Countering these conservative impulses was the novel application of the title “king of the gods” to Marduk in the Šitti-​Marduk Kudurru. This innovation was part of a shift toward syncretism linking Enlil with Marduk and Nippur with Babylon that was underway during the Kassite Dynasty and continued to find expression in Simbar-​ Šipak’s inscription, though by Simbar-​Šipak’s reign at the end of the eleventh century bc it is apparent that Marduk was beginning to absorb Enlil’s attributes. Some of the compositions about Marduk may have been formulated during Nebuchadnezzar I’s reign, but that king’s legacy

250. Sommerfeld 1982; Finn 2017. 251. Lambert 1964; 2013: 271–​277.

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probably inspired subsequent compositions even centuries after his death.252 As Marduk’s position as king of the gods became established, so too Enuma Eliš, the Babylonian Creation Epic which gave theological weight to Marduk’s new status, also emerged during this period. The earliest precisely datable copies of Enuma Eliš come from the library of Ashurbanipal of Assyria and date to the mid-​seventh century bc. However, on the basis of paleography, Stefan Maul dated the oldest surviving recension of Enuma Eliš from Assur to the eleventh or tenth century bc, although Wilfred G. Lambert assigned it to the ninth century bc.253 Lambert argued that Enuma Eliš was composed during Nebuchadnezzar I’s reign to celebrate the return of the Marduk statue from Elam,254 but Tzvi Abusch has suggested that it was composed at some point in the first centuries of the first millennium in response to one of the many crises that threatened Babylon’s ascendancy.255 While neither possibility can be ruled out, the continued ascription to Enlil of the title “king of the Gods” at Nippur during Nebuchadnezzar I’s reign indicates that the concepts present in Enuma Eliš would not have been wholeheartedly embraced at every Babylonian city. A composition that responds to the worldview of Enuma Eliš is The Poem of Erra and Išum, which appears to have been a literary attempt to account for how Marduk could allow the suffering and instability that plagued much of the early first millennium bc.256 Possibly composed in the ninth or eighth centuries bc, the answer it sets forth is that Marduk had been tricked into ceding his seat in Babylon to the god Erra, who plunged the country into civil war and bloodshed until Marduk returned and restored order. The poem’s concluding passages, which condemn civil

252. Nielsen 2018b. 253. Gabriel 2014: 34–​36. 254. Lambert 1964: 10; 2013: 442–​443. 255. Abusch 1999: 547–​548. 256. Frahm 2011: 347–​349.

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strife, extol the proper divine and human order.257 However, The Poem of Erra and Išum was not unique; it is clear that the early first millennium bc witnessed remarkable literary creativity that possessed a style rooted in tradition but which also displayed its own dynamism.258 Like The Poem of Erra and Išum, some of these compositions reflect the instability of the time by describing the frequent unrest or stressing the proper social order. The inscription of Nabû-​šuma-​imbi, governor of Borsippa, rises to a literary style to describe the fighting that gripped Borsippa, and the composition “If a King Does Not Heed Justice” stresses the need for the king to respect the privileged status of various cities, warning him that if he oversteps his authority, the gods could punish him with foreign invaders. Conversely, the humorous story dated to the reign of Marduk-​ balassu-​iqbi in which a physician from Isin who travels to Nippur to collect payment depicts untroubled daily life in the cities, and its contents reveal the sophisticated didactic techniques employed within the scribal curriculum at the time.259 R ef er en c es Abusch, T. 1999. Marduk. In van der Toorn, K., Becking, B., and van der Horst, P.W. (eds.), Dictionary of deities and demons in the Bible. Leiden: Brill, 543–​549. 2nd rev. ed. Alberge, D. 2019. Babylonian treasure seized at Heathrow to be returned to Iraq. The Guardian, March 10, 2019. Retrieved from https://​www. theg ​uard ​ian.com/​cult​ure/​2019/​mar/​10/​b ab​ylon​ian-​treas​ure-​sei​zed​at-​heath​row-​to-​be-​retur​ned-​to-​iraq (last accessed August 1, 2021). Baker, H.D. 2008a. Salmanassar V. RlA 11: 585–​587. Baker, H.D. 2008b. Šamšī-​Adad V. RlA 11: 636–​638. Baker, H.D. 2016a. Tiglatpileser I. RlA 14: 19–​21. Baker, H.D. 2016b. Tiglatpileser III. RlA 14: 21–​24.

257. Foster 2007: 65–​67. 258. Lambert 1986: 123–​125. 259. George 1993: 63–​66.

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Beaulieu, P.-​A. 1993. The historical background of the Uruk prophecy. In Cohen, M.E., Snell, D.C., and Weisberg, D.B. (eds.), The tablet and the scroll: Near Eastern studies in honor of William W. Hallo. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 41–​52. Beaulieu, P.-​A. 2000. The descendants of Sîn-​lēqi-​unninni. In Marzahn, J., and Neumann, H. (eds.), Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 1–​16. Beaulieu, P.-​A. 2001. The abduction of Ištar from the Eanna temple: the changing memories of an event. In Abusch, T., Beaulieu, P.-​A., Huehnergard, J., Machinist, P., and Steinkeller, P. (eds.), Historiography in the cuneiform world. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 29–​40. Beaulieu, P.-​A. 2013. Up for grabs: Babylonian kingship during the Iron Age. JCSMS 8: 5–​15. Bloch, Y. 2010. Setting the dates: re-​evaluation of the chronology of Babylonia in the 14th–​11th centuries BCE and its implications for the reigns of Ramesses II and Hattusili III. UF 42: 41–​95. Bloch, Y. 2012. Assyro-​Babylonian conflicts in the reign of Aššur-​rēša-​iši I: the contribution of administrative documents to history-​writing. In Galil, G., Gilboa, A., Maeir, A.M., and Kahn, D. (eds.), The ancient Near East in the 12th–​10th centuries BCE: culture and history. Münster: Ugarit-​ Verlag, 53–​78. Bongenaar, A.C.V.M. 2000. Private archives in Neo-​Babylonian Sippar and their institutional connections. In Bongenaar, A.C.V.M. (ed.), Interdependency of institutions and private entrepreneurs. Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-​ Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, 73–​94. Brinkman, J.A. 1968. A political history of post-​Kassite Babylonia: 1158–​722 BC. Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum. Brinkman, J.A. 1977. Mesopotamian chronology of the historical period. In Oppenheim, A., Ancient Mesopotamia: portrait of a dead civilization. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 335–​348. Rev. ed. Brinkman, J.A. 1980a. Isin, B: II. Dynastie. RlA 5: 183–​189. Brinkman, J.A. 1980b. Kassiten. RlA 5: 464–​473. Brinkman, J.A. 1980c. Kaššu-​nādin-​aḫḫē. RlA 5: 474. Brinkman, J.A. 1984. Prelude to empire: Babylonian society and politics, 747–​ 626 B.C. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology.

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Brinkman, J.A. 1989. A legal text from the reign of Erība-​Marduk (c. 775 BC). In Behrens, H., Loding, D., and Roth, M.T. (eds.), Dumu-​e2-​ dub-​ba: Studies in honor of Åke W. Sjöberg. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 37–​47. Brinkman, J.A. 1990a. Mār-​bīti-​aḫḫē-​iddina. RlA 7: 357. Brinkman, J.A. 1990b. Mār-​bīti-​apla-​uṣur. RlA 7: 357. Brinkman, J.A. 1990c. Mār-​balāssu-​iqbi. RlA 7: 376. Brinkman, J.A. 1990d. Marduk-​zākir-​šumi. RlA 7: 378–​379. Brinkman, J.A. 1993. A Kassite seal mentioning a Babylonian governor of Dilmun. NABU 1993: 89–​91 (no. 106). Brinkman, J.A. 1997a. Meerland. RlA 8: 6–​10. Brinkman, J.A. 1997b. Mukīn-​zēri. RlA 8: 410–​411. Brinkman, J.A. 2001a. Nabonassar. RlA 9: 5–​6. Brinkman, J.A. 2001b. Nabû-​mukīn-​apli. RlA 9: 31–​32. Brinkman, J.A. 2001c. Nabû-​nādin-​zēri. RlA 9: 32. Brinkman, J.A. 2001d. Nabû-​šuma-​ukīn. RlA 9: 33–​34. Brinkman, J.A. 2001e. Nabû-​šumu-​libūr. RlA 9: 34. Brinkman, J.A. 2001f. Ninurta-​kudurrī-​uṣur. RlA 9: 525–​526. Brinkman, J.A. 2001g. Ninurta-​nādin-​šumi. RlA 9: 527. Brinkman, J.A. 2006. Babylonian royal land grants, memorials of financial interest, and invocation of the divine. Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 49: 1–​47. Brinkman, J.A. 2008. Šamaš-​mudammiq. RlA 11: 617–​618. Brinkman, J.A. 2011a. Simbar-​Šipak. RlA 12: 506. Brinkman, J.A. 2011b. Širikti-​Šuqamuna. RlA 12: 506. Brinkman, J.A., and Brinkman, M. 1972. A tenth-​century kudurru fragment. ZA 62: 91–​98. Brinkman, J.A., and Kennedy, D. 1983. Documentary evidence for the economic base of early Neo-​Babylonian society: a survey of dated Babylonian economic texts, 721–​626 BC. JCS 35: 1–​90. Britton, J. 2007. Studies in Babylonian lunar theory, part I: empirical elements for modeling lunar and solar anomalies. Archive for History of Exact Sciences 61: 83–​145. Clay, A. 1912. Babylonian business transactions of the first millennium BC. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Clay, A. 1915. Miscellaneous inscriptions in the Yale Babylonian Collection. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

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Cole, S.W. 1994. The crimes and sacrileges of Nabû-​ šuma-​ iškun. ZA 84: 220–​252. Cole, S.W. 1996a. The early Neo-​Babylonian governor’s archive from Nippur. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Cole, S.W. 1996b. Nippur in late Assyrian times, c. 755–​612 BC. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Delitzsch, F. 1907. Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmäler der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin, Heft 1. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Donbaz, V. 1998. Assur collection housed in Istanbul: general outlines. In Alp, S., and Süel, A. (eds.), Acts of the IIIrd international congress of Hittitology. Ankara: Uyum Ajans, 177–​188. Drews, R. 1975. The Babylonian Chronicles and Berossus. Iraq 37: 39–​55. Fales, F.M. 2005. Tiglat-​pileser III tra annalistica reale ed epistolografia quotidiana. In Pecchioli Daddi, F., and Guidotti, M. (eds.), Narrare gli eventi. Rome: Herder, 163–​191. Fales, F.M. 2011. Moving around Babylon: on the Aramean and Chaldean presence in southern Mesopotamia. In Cancik-​Kirschbaum, E., van Ess, M., and Marzahn, J. (eds.), Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident. Berlin: De Gruyter, 91–​112. Figulla, H. 1949. Business documents of the Neo-​ Babylonian period. London: British Museum Press. Finkel, I.J. 1994. Untitled note. NABU 1994: 39 (no. 41). Finn, J. 2017. Much ado about Marduk: questioning discourses of royalty in first millennium Mesopotamian literature. Berlin: De Gruyter. Foster, B. 2007. Akkadian literature of the late period. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Frahm, E. 2001. Ein krypto-​sumerischer Text König Adad-​apla-​iddinas aus Uruk. BaM 32: 175–​199, pl. 1–​4. Frahm, E. 2011. Babylonian and Assyrian text commentaries: origins of interpretation. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Frahm, E. 2018. The Exorcist’s Manual: structure, language, Sitz im Leben. In Van Buylaere, G., Luukko, M., Schwemer, D., and Mertens-​Wagschal, A. (eds.), Sources of evil: studies in Mesopotamian exorcistic lore. Leiden: Brill, 9–​47. Frahm, E., and Oelsner, J. 2008. BRM 1, 22 (MLC 1805)—​die Übernahme einer Bürgschaft betreffend. NABU 2008: 13–​15 (no. 9). Frame, G. 1995. Rulers of Babylonia: from the Second Dynasty of Isin to the end of Assyrian domination (1157–​612 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

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Frame, G. 2001. Nabû-​šuma-​iškun. RlA 9: 33. Gabriel, G. 2014. Enūma eliš—​Weg zu einer globalen Weltordnung: Pragmatik, Struktur und Semantik des babylonischen ‘Lieds auf Marduk’. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. George, A. 1993. Ninurta-​pāqidāt’s dog bite, and notes on other comic tales. Iraq 55: 63–​75. George, A. 2011. Other Neo-​Babylonian royal inscriptions. In George, A. (ed.), Cuneiform royal inscriptions and related texts in the Schøyen Collection. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 171–​186. Gesche, P. 2001. Schulunterricht in Babylonien im ersten Jahrtausend v. Chr. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Glassner, J.-​J. 2004. Mesopotamian chronicles. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Grayson, A.K. 1975. Assyrian and Babylonian chronicles. Locust Valley, NY: Augustin. Grayson, A.K. 1983. Königslisten und Chroniken, B: Akkadisch. RlA 6: 86–​135. Grayson, A.K. 1991. Assyrian rulers of the early first millennium BC, vol. I (1114–​859 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Grayson, A.K. 1996. Assyrian rulers of the early first millennium BC, vol. II (858–​745 BC). Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Grayson, A.K., and Novotny, J. 2012. The royal inscriptions of Sennacherib, king of Assyria (704–​681 BC), part 1. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Grayson, A.K., and Novotny, J. 2014. The royal inscriptions of Sennacherib, king of Assyria (704–​681 BC), part 2. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Hagens, G. 2002. The chronology of tenth-​century Assyria and Babylonia. Journal of the Ancient Chronology Forum 9: 61–​70. Hagens, G. 2005. The Assyrian king list and chronology: a critique. Orientalia 74: 23–​41. Hallo, W.W. 1984–​1985. The concept of eras from Nabonassar to Seleucus. JANES 16–​17: 143–​151. Hilprecht, H. 1893–​1896. Old Babylonian inscriptions chiefly from Nippur. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Hinke, H. 1907. A new boundary stone of Nebuchadrezzar I from Nippur. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Hurowitz, V. 1997. Reading a votive inscription: Simbar-​Shipak and the Ellification of Marduk. RA 91: 39–​47.

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Jeffers, J. 2017. The nonintercalated lunar calendar of the Middle Assyrian period. JCS 69: 151–​191. Jursa, M. 2009. Die Kralle des Meeres und andere Aromata. In Arnold, W., Jursa, M., Müller, W.W., and Procházka, S. (eds.), Philologisches und Historisches zwischen Anatolien und Sokotra: analecta semitica in memoriam Alexander Sima. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 147–​180. Jursa, M. 2010. Aspects of the economic history of Babylonia in the first millennium BC: economic geography, economic mentalities, agriculture, the use of money and the problem of economic growth. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Kärger, B., and Minx, S. 2013. Sutäer. RlA 13: 365–​369. King, L. 1912. Babylonian boundary-​stones and memorial tablets in the British Museum. London: British Museum Press. Krebernik, M. 1990. Mār-​bīti. RlA 7: 355–​357. Lackenbacher, S. 1983. Vente de terres a un “šandabakku” sous la IIe dynastie d’Isin. RA 77: 143–​154. Lambert, W.G. 1957. Ancestors, authors, and canonicity. JCS 11: 1–​14, 112. Lambert, W.G. 1962. A catalogue of texts and authors. JCS 16: 59–​77. Lambert, W.G. 1964. The reign of Nebuchadnezzar I: a turning point in the history of ancient Mesopotamian religion. In McCullough, W. (ed.), The seed of wisdom. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 3–​13. Lambert, W.G. 1986. Literary style in first millennium Mesopotamia. JAOS 88: 123–​132. Lambert, W.G. 2013. Babylonian creation myths. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Lenzi, A. 2008a. Secrecy and the gods: secret knowledge in ancient Mesopotamia and biblical Israel. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Lenzi, A. 2008b. The Uruk list of kings and sages and late Mesopotamian scholarship. Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions 8: 137–​169. Lenzi, A. 2013. Advertising secrecy, creating power in ancient Mesopotamia: how scholars used secrecy in scribal education to bolster and perpetuate their social prestige and power. Antiguo Oriente 11: 13–​42. Lenzi, A. 2015. Mesopotamian scholarship: Kassite to Late Babylonian periods. JANEH 2: 145–​201. Llop, J. 2003. Die persönlichen Gründe Tiglat-​Pilesers I., Babylonien anzu­ greifen. Orientalia 72: 204–​211. Longman, T. 1990. Fictional Akkadian biography: a generic and comparative study. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.

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Luukko, M. 2012. The correspondence of Tiglath-​pileser III and Sargon II from Calah/​Nimrud. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Mahieu, B. 2018. The Old and Middle Assyrian calendars, and the adoption of the Babylonian calendar by Tiglath-​pileser I (attested in the Doppeldatierungen and in the Broken Obelisk). SAAB 24: 63–​95. McEwan, G. 1983. Distribution of meat in Eanna. Iraq 45: 187–​198. Millard, A. 1994. The eponyms of the Assyrian Empire, 910–​ 612 B.C. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Nashef, K. 1982. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der mittelbabylonischen und mittelassyrischen Zeit. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Neujahr, M. 2012. Predicting the past in the ancient Near East: mantic historiography in ancient Mesopotamia, Judah, and the Mediterranean world. Providence, RI: Brown University. Nielsen, J. 2009. Trading on knowledge: the Iddin-​Papsukkal kin group in southern Babylonia in the 7th and 6th centuries BC. Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions 9: 171–​182. Nielsen, J. 2011. Sons and descendants: a social history of kin groups and family names in the early Neo-​Babylonian period, 747–​626 BC. Leiden: Brill. Nielsen, J. 2012. Nebuchadnezzar I’s eastern front. In Galil, G., Gilboa, A., Maeir, A.M., and Kahn, D. (eds.), The ancient Near East in the 12th–​10th centuries BCE: culture and history. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 413–​423. Nielsen, J. 2018a. Cultural encounters and identity formation among the urban elite in early Neo-​ Babylonian society. In Hertel, T., Larsen, M., and Ryholt, K. (eds.), Cultural encounters in Near Eastern history. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 91–​117. Nielsen, J. 2018b. The reign of Nebuchadnezzar I in history and historical memory. London and New York: Routledge. Nielsen, J., and Waerzeggers, C. 2016. Interactions between temple, king and local elites: the hanšû land schemes in Babylonia (8th–​6th centuries BC). In García, J. (ed.), Dynamics of production in the ancient Near East 1300–​ 500 BC. Oxford: Oxbow, 331–​344. Oshima, T. 2014. Babylonian poems of pious sufferers: Ludlul bel nemeqi and the Babylonian theodicy. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Pappi, C. 2018. The land of Idu: city, province, or kingdom? SAAB 24: 97–​123. Parpola, S., and Porter, M. 2001. The Helsinki atlas of the Near East in the Neo-​ Assyrian period. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project.

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Paulus, S. 2011. Foreigners under foreign rulers: the case of Kassite Babylonia (2nd half of the 2nd millennium BCE). In Achenbach, R., Albertz, R., and Wöhrle, J. (eds.), The foreigner and the law: perspectives from the Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1–​15. Paulus, S. 2014a. Babylonien in der Hälfte des 2. Jts. v. Chr.—​(K)ein Imperium? Ein Überblick über Geschichte und Struktur des mittelbabylonischen Reiches (ca. 1500–​1000 BC). In Geller, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Imperien und Reiche in der Weltgeschichte: Epochenübergreifende und globalhistorische Vergleiche, Teil 1: Imperien des Altertums, Mittelalterliche und frühneuzeitliche Imperien. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 65–​100. Paulus, S. 2014b. Die babylonischen Kudurru-​ Inschriften von der kassitischen bis zur frühneubabylonischen Zeit, untersucht unter besonderer Berücksichtigung gesellschafts-​und rechtshistorischer Fragestellungen. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Pedersén, O. 2014. Waters at Babylon. In Tvedt, T., and Oestigaard, T. (eds.), A history of water, III/​1: water and urbanization. London: Bloomsbury, 107–​129. Poebel, A. 1955. The Second Dynasty of Isin according to a new king-​list tablet. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Röllig, W. 1980. Jalman. RlA 5: 255. Saggs, H.W.G. 2001. The Nimrud letters, 1952. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Seidl, U. 1989. Die babylonischen Kudurru-​Reliefs: Symbole mesopotamischer Gottheiten. Fribourg: Academic Press /​Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Slanski, K. 2003. The Babylonian entitlement narûs (kudurrus): a study in their form and function. Boston, MA: American Schools of Oriental Research. Sommerfeld, W. 1982. Der Aufstieg Marduks: die Stellung Marduks in der babylonischen Religion des zweiten Jahrtausends v. Chr. Kevelaer: Butzon und Bercker /​Neukirchen-​Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Still, B. 2019. The social world of the Babylonian priest. Leiden: Brill. Tadmor, H., and Yamada, S. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–​722 BC), kings of Assyria. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Tenney, J. 2013. Kassite, Kassites. In Erskine, A., Bagnall, R.S., Brodersen, K., Champion, C.B., and Huebner, S.R. (eds.), The encyclopedia of ancient history. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 3702–​3703.

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Tenney, J. 2016. The elevation of Marduk revisited: festivals and sacrifices at Nippur during the high Kassite period. JCS 68: 153–​180. Thureau-​Dangin, F. 1919. Un acte de donation de Marduk-​zâkir-​šumi. RA 16: 117–​156. Van de Mieroop, M. 1997. The ancient Mesopotamian city. Oxford: Clarendon Press. van Driel, G. 1998. Eighth century Nippur. BiOr 55: 333–​345. van Soldt, W.H. 2008. The location of Idu. NABU 2008: 72–​74 (no. 55). Walker, C. 1982. Babylonian Chronicle 25: a chronicle of the Kassite and Isin II dynasties. In Van Driel, G., Krispijn T., Stol, M., and Veenhof, K. (eds.), Zikir šumim: Assyriological studies presented to F. R. Kraus. Leiden: Brill, 398–​417. Waerzeggers, C., and Jursa, M. 2008. On the initiation of Babylonian priests. ZAR 14: 1–​23. Waerzeggers, C. 2012. The Babylonian chronicles: classification and provenance. JNES 71: 285–​298. Weszeli, M. 2010. A new boundary stone of the reign of Nabû-​mukīn-​apli (978–​943 BC). RA 104: 99–​130. Yamada, S. 2003. Tukulti-​Ninurta I’s rule over Babylonia and its aftermath: a historical reconstruction. Orient 38: 153–​177. Zadok, R. 1985. Geographical names according to Neo-​and Late Babylonian texts. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Zadok, R. 1997. Two N/​LB documents from the British Museum. NABU 1997: 10–​13 (no. 11). Zadok, R. 2017. The account of Nabû-​šuma-​iškun revisited. AoF 44: 261–​267.

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Elam in the Iron Age Alexa Bartelmus

42.1. Introduction Between the defeat of the last mighty king of the Middle Elamite period, Huteluduš-​Inšušinak, by the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar I (1125–​ 1104 bc) and the rise of the Persian Empire under Cyrus II the Great (559–​530 bc; ­chapter 54 in volume 5) lies a period of more than half a millennium.1 During that long time, textual and archaeological sources only infrequently illuminate the political events and cultural developments that took place in the territory of southwestern Iran designated in antiquity as Elam. For the first part of this period, during the eleventh and tenth centuries bc, Elam shared the same fate as its neighbors in this regard, but in contrast to Babylonia and Assyria, Elam (figure 42.1a, b) and its political and societal organization were never again illuminated by sources which would allow us comprehensive or detailed insights. Despite extensive research on even the most well-​attested phases of its history, there are more uncertainties than certainties in later Elamite history. These include the sequence of Elamite kings and their familial relationships; the definition of the borders of their realm and the nature of their rule;

1. This chapter was language-​edited by D.T. Potts. Alexa Bartelmus, Elam in the Iron Age In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0042

Figure 42.1a.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 42. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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Figure 42.1b.  Detail map.

the administration of the state; the structure of society; and the lives and beliefs of ordinary people. Given these uncertainties, why should one bother with the Neo-​ Elamite kingdoms at all? First, the Neo-​Elamite kingdoms were not only the heirs of the territory governed by the Middle Elamite kingdom

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(­chapter 34 in volume 3), but also of its political achievements and important cultural and religious traditions, all of which may have played a formative role in the emergence of the Persian Empire.2 Second, Elam was an important player in the struggles between a rather unstable Babylonia (­chapter 41 in this volume) and the expanding Assyrian Empire (­chapters 37–​40 in this volume), providing on occasion not only military assistance but also a safe haven for refugees from Babylonia.3 Finally, interest in Neo-​Elamite history and culture has grown in recent years,4 partly as a result of some spectacular new archaeological finds that have increased our knowledge about the period.5 Thus, there is every reason to assume that the field will continue to prosper. However, in order to achieve any real progress, it is important to critically re-​examine the available sources and their interpretation, since many of the primary sources are still not properly edited, and the key research tools available are only in a preliminary state.6 Experience has shown that it is almost impossible for outsiders to find their way through the secondary literature that tends to contain multiple divergent—​and often contradictory—​views based upon chains of assumptions that are nowhere made explicit. This chapter is therefore not so much a historical

2. See, e.g., Briant 1984: 92–​96; Henkelman 2003a: 187–​188; 2003b: 261; 2008: 48–​ 49; Liverani 2003: 10; Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 2–​3; Potts 2016: 305; 307. 3. See, e.g., Brinkman 1965; 1986; Gerardi 1987; Waters 2000; 2013; Zadok 2011; Dubovský 2018a. 4. For an overview of relevant topics and literature that could not all be treated here, see Álvarez-​Mon and Garrison 2011; Álvarez-​Mon 2012; 2020; De Graef and Tavernier 2013; Potts 2013; 2016 (replacing Potts 1999); Álvarez-​Mon et al. 2018. Note that these books cover other periods of Elamite history as well. 5. E.g., the discovery of the Neo-​Elamite tombs at Arjan and Jubaji; briefly described in section 42.3.6. 6. For example, the Elamisches Wörterbuch (“Elamite dictionary”; Hinz and Koch 1987) is only a collection of references with many inconsistencies between different entries, even if it is still very useful despite its shortcomings. On the problems involved in the use of the most comprehensive sign list by Steve 1992, see section 42.3.4.

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narrative7 as a reassessment of the current state of the field, aiming to highlight some of the main problems facing scholars today and to offer some new perspectives on how these might be overcome in the future.

42.2.  Key issues

42.2.1.  The sources, their geographical distribution, and their historical relevance The enormous Persian Empire, whose conflicts with the Greek world inspired the creation of Herodotus’s Histories and thus marked the beginning of “western” historiography (­chapter 64 in volume 5), emerged in a relatively small region in the Iranian highlands around the city of Anšan (modern Tell-​e Malyan), which had previously constituted an important part of the Middle Elamite realm. Although separated by the steep peaks of the Zagros mountain ranges, the western lowlands around Susa (“Susiana”), pierced by three large rivers that originate in the mountain lands (Karkheh, Dez, and Karun), along with the arid plains in the eastern highlands around Anšan, formed a political unit at that time, and there is plenty of evidence in the form of royal inscriptions and archaeological remains to confirm that the claim of several Middle Elamite rulers to be “king(s) of Anšan and Susa” was literally true (­chapter 34 in volume 3). On the other hand, while some Elamite kings still used the title “king of Anšan and Susa” in their inscriptions in the first half of the first millennium bc (section 42.3.4), we not only lack written sources from the eastern highlands that could be attributed to the reigns of specific kings,8 but archaeological evidence is sparse, too, particularly for the Kor 7. For such attempts, see Potts 1999: 259–​308; 2016: 249–​306; Waters 2000; 2013; Carter 2007; Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 169–​285; 2013; Álvarez-​Mon and Garrison 2011; Gorris and Wicks 2018; Gorris 2020; as well as the relevant chapters in earlier publications on Elamite history, notably Cameron 1936: 156–​227; Hinz 1964: 115–​133; Carter and Stolper 1984: 181–​189. 8. The only written sources that are currently available are the so-​called Tell-​e Malyan Tablets (Stolper 1984) whose attribution to the Middle or Neo-​Elamite period is debated (section 42.3.2).

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River basin.9 From the period of the Persian Empire onward, this region was called Parsa in Old Persian and Persis in Greek sources,10 and was thus clearly distinguished from the adjoining regions to the west and in the southern Zagros. The question whether and for how long the “kings of Elam” (as they were called in contemporary and later Mesopotamian sources11) controlled both regions in the first millennium bc is of considerable historical significance since Herodotus claimed that the Persians had been ruled by the Medes before the revolt of Cyrus II against their king Astyages.12 However, this view has been challenged in recent years by scholars who argue that the Persians were the heirs not of the Medes but of the Elamites,13 whereas the Median state might never have actually constituted an empire.14 While Elamite cultural influence in the regions

9. Sumner 1990: 314; Potts 2016: 252. 10. This designation is probably derived from either Parsua or Parsumaš, whose relationship to each other and exact locations are, however, hotly debated; see Waters 2004: 94; Potts 2016: 265 (with earlier literature). The shorter form Parsu is used in the so-​called Nabonidus Chronicle (Grayson 1975: Chronicle 7: ii 15) along with Anšan (Grayson 1975: Chronicle 7: ii 1) in order to designate the dominion of Cyrus II (556–​530 bc). 11. Kings of Elam are mentioned frequently in the Assyrian royal inscriptions from the time of Sargon II (721–​705 bc) onward, in numerous letters from the Assyrian state correspondence, as well as in some later Babylonian chronicles (Grayson 1975: Chronicles 1 and 14). In earlier texts from Assyria, no Elamite kings are explicitly mentioned, but these sources demonstrate that contacts between the two peoples already existed. Note the administrative documents from Kalhu (modern Nimrud) from the time of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc): Dalley and Postgate 1984: no. 145: iv 26; the inscriptions of Šamši-​Adad V (823–​811 bc): Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: iv 37–​42, A.0.103.4: l. 24′; and the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc): Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: l. 14; no. 51: l. 17. 12. Hdt. 1.127. 13. Liverani 2003: 10; Henkelman 2008: 10. See ­chapter 43 in this volume. 14. It is totally unclear if, when, and/​or how Cyrus added Elam to his realm before his conquest of Babylon in 539 bc, which is typically understood as marking the beginning of the Persian Empire. Persian-​period building activity at Susa is first attested under Darius I (522–​486 bc); see ­chapter 55 in volume 5.

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beyond the main Zagros range is attested in both the Neo-​Elamite and the Persian imperial periods,15 just what the political landscape of the Elamite state in its final stages looked like, and whether, or for how long, it still controlled the eastern highlands, are contentious topics of debate (section 42.3.4). The relatively few Elamite kings who can be situated more or less securely in time, based on Mesopotamian sources (cf. figure 42.2), certainly controlled Susiana up to the city of Der on the Babylonian frontier, and according to Assyrian sources sought refuge in more mountainous areas at times.16 Occasional references to the city of Anšan in these texts do not, however, state explicitly that this region was part of the Elamite realm, but rather that it was an ally of the Elamites with the same status as, e.g., Ellipi, Parsuaš, and Namri (on which see ­chapter 43 in this volume).17 Local textual sources providing insight into the internal organization of the Neo-​Elamite sphere consist of monumental (royal?) inscriptions,18

15. Note, e.g., the additions that were made to existing Elamite rock reliefs at Kurangun (overlooking the Fahliyan River), and Naqš-​ e Rustam (near Persepolis) where several tombs for kings of the Achaemenid Dynasty were later constructed. For a detailed description of these monuments, see Seidl 1986 and Álvarez-​Mon 2019: 3–​4, 15–​26 (with earlier literature). 16. Thus, for example, Sennacherib of Assyria (704–​681 bc) describes the flight of Kudur-​Nahundu (“Kutir-​Nahhunte II”; 693–​692 bc) to Haydala (i.e., Hidali; see Potts 2016: 263), “which is in the distant mountains”: Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 34: l. 39. 17. The most significant reference is the description of a confederation formed by Umman-​menanu (“Huban-​menana”; 692–​689 bc) in inscriptions of Sennacherib, including Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 22: v 43–​44. 18. One should be careful not to base historical arguments on the distinction between “royal” and “official” inscriptions (as attempted by Gorris 2020: 7–​8): While it is not certain whether all the texts that are usually considered to be Neo-​Elamite royal inscriptions were really written by “kings of Elam” (see sections 42.3.7 and 42.4.1), those that have been interpreted as the inscriptions of high officials by Gorris 2020: 7, such as the Šutruru Stele (König 1965: no. 74) and the Persepolis Bronze Plaque (unpublished; see Basello 2013 for a detailed discussion), might actually be royal edicts composed in favor of third parties. For a new interpretation of the inscriptions of Hanni (König 1965: nos. 75–​76), see section 42.3.6.

Figure 42.2.  Chronological framework of the Neo-​Elamite period. To the left, the reconstructed conventional dates, as well as the phases introduced by Steve 1992: 19–​24 in order to periodize Elamite texts, are indicated. For a critical discussion of this framework, see section 42.3.4.

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seals and their inscriptions,19 administrative texts,20 and a few literary compositions.21 Although the overwhelming majority of these texts were excavated at Susa, there are also a number of other important sources from other parts of modern Iran: rock reliefs accompanied by lengthy inscriptions from the Malamir Plain (section 42.3.6), richly furnished tombs from the Ram Hormoz and Behbahan regions (section 42.3.6), and the Elamite inscriptions engraved on items from a hoard found near Khorramabad (hence called the Kalmakarra Hoard; see sections 42.3.7 and 42.4.1). These materials indicate that Elamite political influence probably extended into these regions as well.22

19. Listed in Steve 1992: 22. Of these, only a few historically important examples are treated in this chapter. 20. The so-​called Susa Acropole Texts (Scheil 1907; 1911: no. 309), Susa Apadana Texts (Scheil 1911: nos. 301–​307), and three texts from the Ville des Artisans (Paper 1954); see sections 42.3.7 and 42.4.1. For a possible connection with the so-​called Nineveh Letters (Weißbach 1902, with later additions), see sections 42.3.7 and 42.4.2. 21. Listed in Steve 1992: 22. Due to difficulties of translation and the lack of historically relevant information in these texts, they have not been used in this chapter. 22. The fact that the so-​called Persepolis Bronze Plaque (also known as “Ururu Plaque” after one of its main characters) was found at Persepolis cannot be taken as an argument that Elamite influence reached there, since Persepolis did not yet exist in the Neo-​Elamite period; this means that the object must have been transported there later (probably from Susa; see the detailed discussion in Basello 2013). For a possibly even wider range of influence, see the so-​ called Nineveh Letters (section 42.4.2) and three fragmentary Elamite texts that were found at Armavir in Armenia. One of the latter has been interpreted as either a Neo-​Elamite or Persian-​period letter (Vallat 1995a; 1997: 268; Potts 2016: 295). However, its interpretation is still unclear; see the detailed reassessment of the existing interpretations, taking also into account the archaeological context, by Badalyan et al. 2019. According to Tavernier 2020: 166, Elamite letters were also found at Marbacheh (Ram Hormoz); and note that Stolper 2004: 63 refers to further, unprovenanced, Neo-​Elamite letters and administrative texts.

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42.2.2.  Chronological distribution of sources and periodization Due to the relatively small number of local sources, and the fact that they can only very rarely be securely related to each other, establishing a Neo-​ Elamite chronology must rely on establishing synchronisms with other ancient Near Eastern polities. Fortunately, at least for a short period of Neo-​Elamite history, a clear framework is provided by some of the Babylonian Chronicles (surviving as later manuscripts),23 and additional information can be gained from contemporary Assyrian sources, both royal inscriptions and letters from the state correspondence (figure 42.2).24 According to this framework, the Neo-​Elamite period can be roughly divided into three phases: (1) a very long phase (ca. 1100–​744 bc), during which we do not know who ruled Elam; (2) a phase of around a century (743–​ca. 643 bc)25 for which we are quite well informed about the sequence and familial relationships of the kings, as well as the circumstances of the accession to the throne and their political activities;

23. Grayson 1975: Chronicles 1 and 14; Glassner 2004: nos. 16–​18. For reasons of convenience, only Grayson 1975 will be cited below in references to the chronicles. 24. The dating of the Middle Elamite king Huteluduš-​Inšušinak is based on a synchronism of Nebuchadnezzar with “Hulteludiš, the king of Elam” in one of the inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar I (Frame 1995: B.2.4.11: i 41). The order of kings from Ummanigaš (“Huban-​nikaš I”; 743–​717 bc) to Urtaku is detailed (with further information on their descendancy and the circumstances of their coming to power) in the above-​mentioned chronicles and supported by references to these kings in inscriptions of the contemporary Assyrian kings. On the order of the last kings, scholars currently hold slightly diverging opinions (cf., e.g., the table in Henkelman 2008: 7) since it has been reconstructed from Assyrian royal inscriptions and letters alone. However, since these are not relevant for the arguments brought forward in this chapter, they have not been indicated. Likewise, minor differences in the spelling of the Elamite kings’ names in the Assyrian sources and the modern secondary literature have been ignored in this chapter. 25. Grayson 1980: 231, 235; for a discussion, see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 25 n. 159.

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(3) a third phase (ca. 642–​539/​520 bc),26 to which most of the available sources originating from Elam itself are currently attributed (section 42.3.4), but for which there is no external evidence that would help us to establish a secure chronology or inform us about the status of the kings who allegedly reigned in that period.27 Several attempts have been made to relate these phases to alleged dynastic or cultural changes and to periodize Elamite history accordingly,28 but given the scarcity of evidence, all of these are highly problematic. First, the uneven distribution of written sources, as outlined above, constitutes a major obstacle for reconstructing political history. While the reference to the accession of Ummanigaš (“Huban-​nikaš I”)29 in 743 bc in the Babylonian Chronicles does not necessarily indicate the beginning of a new dynasty in Elam,30 and the relevance of Assyrian political measures including the installation of a parallel king in Hidali (653 bc) or the “destruction” of Susa (perhaps in 647 bc)31 for the political structures of Elam have rightly been questioned,32 it is simply impossible to determine dynastic changes in times for which we do not even know the names of the respective Elamite rulers. This concerns not only the early Neo-​ Elamite period, for which no such information exists at all, but also the 26. For the latter date, see Henkelman 2003b: 262; Gorris and Wicks 2018: 249–​250. 27. In addition, there are a number of references to Elam in the Bible (as discussed by Dubovský 2018b), but these are very generic and cannot be used for a historical reconstruction. 28. Steve 1992: 21–​23; Vallat 1996a: 393; Waters 2000: 3–​4; Steve, Vallat and Gasche 2002–​2003: 483–​484; Malbran-​Labat 1995: 129; 2013: 349–​350. On the differences, see the useful tables in Gorris and Wicks 2018: 250 and Gorris 2020: 14, as well as the detailed explanations in Potts 2016: 250–​251. A complex model that distinguishes between different royal dynasties has been offered by Gorris 2020: 19–​107 (cf. Gorris and Wicks 2018: 250–​257). 29. On the problem of numbering Neo-​Elamite rulers, see section 42.3.1. 30. Henkelman 2003a: 182 n. 3; 2003b: 253; Gorris and Wicks 2018: 251. 31. This dating follows Reade 2000: 89, but is not certain and therefore debated. 32. Henkelman 2003a: 182 n. 3; 2003b: 253; Gorris and Wicks 2018: 254.

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Figure 42.3.  The distribution of Elamite texts to different phases by Steve 1992: 21–​23. Steve distinguished historical periods (“M[iddle Elamite]),” “N[eo-​ Elamite]”), phases (“I,” “II,” “III”), and subphases (“A,” “B”). Within the subphases, he provided the texts with Arabic numbers (“1,” “2,” etc.).

very last phase of Elam’s pre-​Persian Empire history. Cultural changes, on the other hand, can be dated only approximately and are generally not suitable for precisely defining historical periods, especially if they are based on a very small, geographically limited, data set. This goes both for Pierre de Miroschedji’s frequently quoted statement that he was able to identify two Neo-​Elamite building phases in the Ville Royale of Susa,33 and for Marie-​Joseph Steve’s very influential division of Neo-​Elamite history into three main phases and several sub-​phases based on the paleography and orthography of the textual sources (figure 42.3).34 Finally, for the purpose of studying long-​term historical development, a strict 33. de Miroschedji 1981. 34. Steve 1992: 21–​23; cf. also the slightly modified model by Vallat 1996a: 393. Steve’s model and its influence on chronological considerations are discussed in section 42.3.4.

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periodization model is not very useful since it tends to blur possible connections between sources that should be analyzed together, even if they date to different time periods.35

42.2.3.  Methodological considerations Neo-​Elamite chronology is a nightmare, and this chapter is not going to change that. The reason is very straightforward: at the moment, there are simply not enough sources to cover the entire period and thus to achieve anything resembling a coherent picture of Neo-​ Elamite history. However, on top of that, modern scholarship has exacerbated this situation. Instead of acknowledging that we simply do not know enough to fit all the extant evidence into a master narrative, many scholars have each not only come up with their own scenarios of Neo-​Elamite history (sometimes for good reasons), but have additionally continuously repeated serious methodological errors that, when taken together, greatly muddy the waters for non-​ specialists and have proven detrimental to our ability to achieve new perspectives on the period. These methodological errors include, but are not limited to: 1) significantly changing the names given in Mesopotamian sources according to hypothetical reconstructions of their Elamite counterparts, even though the basis for these equations—​namely, the idea that all rulers who occur in Elamite royal inscriptions must necessarily be identical with those mentioned in the Mesopotamian sources—​ has long been rejected;36

35. Note, for example, the habit of treating references to Elam in Mesopotamian sources that pre-​date the Babylonian chronicles as deriving from a “Dark Age,” an artificial separation that appears in virtually every recent summary of Neo-​ Elamite history. 36. Following Vallat 1995b: 38; 1996a: 385–​386. The consequences are discussed in section 42.3.4.

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2) applying a continuous numbering sequence to the few Elamite rulers who are attested in the extant sources, thereby both ignoring considerable gaps in the evidence (figure 42.2) and creating confusion with regard to the identity of the kings in question, especially when the names have been reconstructed differently by different scholars;37 (3) presenting additional information that is not contained in the source in question (e.g., a ruler’s alleged genealogy) in order to support one’s own arguments. In this chapter, royal names are generally quoted according to the form provided in the relevant sources, adding additional information only if extant in the respective source. In order to facilitate the reader’s recognition, the most well-​established forms of these names used in the secondary literature will be added in brackets, thereby indicating the basic uncertainty immanent in this general approach by the use of quotation marks. In the case of major discrepancies between sources that clearly refer to the same individual, more than one version of a name will be provided. However, minor variants between different spellings of an individual’s name will be ignored, acknowledging the fact that modern transliteration and transcription attempts will never be able to adequately render the actual cuneiform characters or the underlying phonemes. In cases where orthography is important, the relevant spellings are cited. For reasons of convenience, however, simplifications are made where this does not affect the historical argument. Thus, well-​known place names will be referred to in their popular form, even if they are spelled differently in almost all of the ancient sources (e.g., Susa and Anšan, rather than Šušun/​Šušan and Anzan), and modern place names will be cited according to the conventions of the volumes of the Oxford History of the Ancient Near East.

37. E.g., Vallat’s identification of Umman-​menanu as “Huban-​imena III” (Vallat 1995b: 37); see ­figure 42.2 and ­figure 42.4.

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42.3.  Out of the “Dark Age”: rethinking Neo-​Elamite chronology

42.3.1.  The transition from the Middle Elamite to the Neo-​Elamite period In modern periodization, Neo-​Elamite history begins when Middle Elamite history ends, around 1100 bc (­chapter 34 in volume 3). However, it is impossible to establish a certain date for this event. We do not know whether the defeat of Huteluduš-​Inšušinak “I” by Nebuchadnezzar I of Babylon (1125–​1104 bc), which is often quoted as a decisive moment in history,38 in fact had any lasting consequences for Elam or the Elamite royal house, e.g., in the form of a dynastic change. Moreover, only a handful of sources on Elam survive from the subsequent three centuries (figure 42.2),39 and it is unclear how and/​or by whom Elam was ruled during this period. Consequently, the period between the defeat of Huteluduš-​ Inšušinak “I” and the first Neo-​Elamite ruler whom we can firmly situate in time and space again, namely Ummanigaš (“Huban-​nikaš I”; 743–​717 bc), has occasionally been termed a “Dark Age.”40 This term is primarily justified by the scarcity of sources, but it carries with it an implication of drastic political and economic crises and resultant large-​scale movements of peoples that purportedly affected many ancient Near Eastern states negatively and caused their (sometimes only temporary) decline from the twelfth century bc onward, albeit at slightly different points in time (­chapters 28–​34 in volume 3). However, in contrast to Mesopotamia, where the detrimental effects of such demographic changes are reported in the inscriptions of later kings (for Assyria, see ­chapter 37 in this volume), there are no such sources pertaining to southwestern Iran. All we can say is that at

38. E.g., Potts 2016: 246. 39. Waters 2000: 10–​11; Potts 2016: 251–​253, Gorris and Wicks 2018: 250–​251; Gorris 2020: 19–​20. 40. Ghirshman 1964: 3; Gorris and Wicks 2018: 250; Wicks 2019: 21; Gorris 2020: 19. The term is also used by others to designate the entire Neo-​Elamite period; see, e.g., Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 2.

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some point in time, considerable movements of peoples also affected the Iranian Plateau since, from the ninth century bc onward, Assyrian texts inform us about the appearance of previously unattested Iranian-​ speaking population groups, such as the Medes, in the more northerly parts of the Zagros Mountains (­chapter 43 in this volume),41 and more and more Iranian names and loanwords are attested in cuneiform sources.42 It should be remembered, though, that we do not know when this process began and how long it lasted; what the circumstances of the arrival of these peoples were; and if, or how, these arrivals affected the stability of the Šutrukid dynasty of Elam, or later Elamite polities. Archaeological evidence is slightly more illuminating in this regard. While we hardly know anything about the fate of the former Elamite capitals of Anšan and Susa, surveys have revealed a significant decline in sedentary population, particularly in the more easterly regions (section 42.2.1). The Kor River basin, for example, shows no signs that a sedentary population settled there in this period,43 which may indicate that this region was largely deserted or that its inhabitants had assumed a nomadic way of life. However, it is impossible to say whether this happened as a result of the arrival of foreign peoples, which may have inaugurated socio-​demographic changes, or as a result of pressures caused by climate change. In any case, “civilization” in Elam—​as well as in other parts of the Near East—​certainly did not “collapse” at this time.44 There must still have been places—​most likely urban centers—​in which knowledge of the principles of state governance and administrative technologies, including writing, were maintained and passed on from one generation to the next, for otherwise the many continuities between the Middle and the Neo-​Elamite periods cannot be explained.

41. Potts 2016: 265. 42. See, e.g., Zadok 1984: 388; 2013: 416; 2018: 157; Hinz 1987: 128; Tavernier 2002; 2007; 2011b; 2018; Potts 2016: 265, 294; Alizadeh 2020. 43. Sumner 1990: 314; Potts 2016: 252. 44. As postulated for the Mediterranean region in the provocative title of Cline 2014.

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42.3.2.  The Tell-​e Malyan Tablets and the “kings” (sugir) of Anšan Of utmost importance, both for defining the transition between the Middle Elamite and Neo-​Elamite periods and for understanding later developments in the region, is the question of what actually happened to Anšan (modern Tell-​e Malyan)45 at the end of the second and the beginning of the first millennium bc. Since only very little of the site has been excavated, hardly any conclusions can be drawn from the archaeological evidence recovered there. The observation that evidence of any sedentary population in the Kor River basin appears to be lacking from the beginning of the ninth century bc onward46 does not automatically imply that Anšan had been totally abandoned. Indeed, in light of its reappearance as the (ideological) center of a seemingly independent political entity in the Assyrian royal inscriptions of the seventh century bc and in later sources (most notably the Cyrus Cylinder; see ­chapter 54 in volume 5, with ­figure 54.3), this seems rather unlikely.47 However, the city’s urban form, size, and importance, as well as the living conditions of its inhabitants and especially its political function and status in relation to Elam, remain unclear. Our latest secure piece of information on the city of Anšan is that Huteluduš-​Inšušinak “I” restored a temple for the deities Napiriša, Kiririša, Inšušinak, and Šimut there,48 but neither the circumstances of his presence at the site nor the fate of the city after his reign are clear. Some scholars have suggested that Huteluduš-​ Inšušinak’s presence at Anšan was a direct result of Nebuchadnezzar I of Babylon’s attack on Elam and that he might have retreated there to put some distance

45. On the identification of Tell-​e Malyan with Anšan, see Hansman 1972; Reiner 1973; 1974. The results of the excavations are described in Sumner 2003. 46. Sumner 1990: 314. 47. The interpretation of Cyrus’s use of the title “king of Anšan” is hotly debated; see Zournatzi 2019 (with earlier literature). On the historical relevance of the mention of Anšan as an ally of the Elamite king in Assyrian sources, see section 42.2.1. 48. Lambert 1972: 66; Reiner 1973; Stolper 1984: 6.

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between himself and his western enemy,49 but whether he moved the center of Elamite power there,50 or whether he returned at some point to Susa,51 is unknown. The most promising source for finding out more about the fate of Anšan is a group of administrative tablets excavated at Tell-​e Malyan in 1972 and 1974,52 now known as the “Tell-​ e Malyan Tablets.” Unfortunately, the texts are very difficult to understand and raise more questions than they answer. The corpus as a whole has been dated by Matthew W. Stolper to the period between 1300 and 1000 bc (and most likely the last third of that period),53 but alternative suggestions have been made. While some scholars (representing what Stolper called the “Anšan view”) date the texts to the period 1100–​1000 bc,54 others look at the material from the “Susa view,”55 and favor a slightly later dating (1000–​ 900 bc)56 based on the fact that the sign forms in these texts are different from those found in Middle Elamite royal inscriptions. Although the use of different kinds of texts for paleographic comparison has been rightly criticized,57 this does not necessarily invalidate the result. The date of the Tell-​e Malyan Tablets depends essentially on the date of the building unearthed in the excavation sector EDD, in which most of them were found.58 According to the excavators, this building was probably constructed between 1250 and 1150 bc and destroyed by a

49. E.g., Lambert 1972: 74; Vallat 1996b: 88. 50. Gorris 2020: 24. 51. Potts 2016: 244. 52. Stolper 1984: 1. 53. Stolper 1984: 9. 54. Stolper 2013: 402. 55. Stolper 2013: 402. In this context, he cites Steve 1986: 18; 1992; Steve et al. 2002–​ 2002: 470–​471. 56. E.g., Steve 1986: 18; note also the attribution in Steve 1992: 21. 57. Stolper 2013: 402–​403; see also Gorris 2020: 7–​8. 58. Stolper 1984: 1–​4.

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fire sometime in the eleventh century bc.59 This would correspond well with the reign of Huteluduš-​Inšušinak “I” and it is therefore tempting to restore on one of the tablets a royal name that begins with the sign hu as the name of this king.60 However, it remains equally possible to restore the tablet with a different name.61 Whereas this name is preceded by a well-​known logographic sign for “king” (EŠŠANA/​LUGÀL; read sunki in Elamite),62 other names, which occur on tablets from other findspots and, in one case, a slightly later level,63 are preceded by a different combination of signs (su-​gìr) that has been interpreted as a variant spelling of sunki, meaning “king” as well.64 This possibility is not only intriguing but, if correct, would have some important implications. If these persons were contemporaries of the last known Šutrukid kings, the phenomenon of local rulers ruling coevally with the kings of “Anšan and Susa,” which has usually been regarded as a typical phenomenon of the late Neo-​Elamite period (and interpreted as possibly reflecting the weakness of the Elamite state; see section 42.3.4), may have already existed at this early date.65 If so, the situation in Anšan toward the end of the second millennium bc might be comparable to that attested by the later Susa Acropole Texts, in which the interaction between the local rulers of smaller states and the Susa administration is recorded (section 42.4.1). If, on the other hand, these persons were instead later kings, then the Tell-​e Malyan Tablets would prove that Anšan was still occupied and ruled by kings with Elamite names for some decades, or even centuries, after the reign of Huteluduš-​Inšušinak,

59. Carter 1996: 16; Potts 2016: 240. 60. Stolper 1984: 6. 61. Stolper 2013: 401–​402 n. 3. 62. Stolper 1984: 6. 63. Akšir-​x and Šutruk(-​)ša(-​)x; see the transliteration of the texts in Stolper 1984: 7; 2013: 408, 412. 64. Stolper 1984: 7 with n. 11. 65. Stolper 2013: 404. Note also his suggestion that they could have been deceased kings from the earlier history of Anšan.

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thus providing a glimpse into the fate of Anšan during the “Dark Age” and rendering the abandonment scenario even more unlikely. Indeed, calibrated radiocarbon dates seem to indicate that the building in which the texts were found was still in use during the tenth and even the late ninth century bc.66 In attempting to decide which of these two possibilities is correct, it is important to first establish whether there is a difference in meaning between sugir and sunki, or whether the two terms are in fact synonyms. While there is ample proof that sugir is indeed a syllabic spelling of sunki “king,”67 it has been suggested that, in later texts, this form may have been used in order to distinguish (hypothetical) local rulers of the highlands from the “kings of Elam”68 (e.g., in an inscription by Atta-​hamiti-​ Inšušinak) or in order to highlight “the highland ‘Anšan’ connections”69 of a later king from Susa (“Šutruk-​Nahhunte II”) and “to connect his dynastic lineage to the great Middle Elamite highland kings,”70 respectively.71 These two interpretations are mutually exclusive, however, and it seems methodologically unsound to interpret the same term differently, depending on the assumed context. If there really was a nuanced meaning of sugir as opposed to sunki, it should be the same in all texts. Looking at the available evidence,72 it seems most likely that su-​gìr was simply used in order to explicitly denote that the king in question was referred to in the third person (by explicitly adding the ending -​r),73 rather than in the first person, as is the case in most royal inscriptions.

66. Potts 2016: 241–​242. 67. Stolper 1984: 7 n. 11. 68. Gorris 2020: 85 with n. 77. 69. Gorris 2020: 85, n. 77; referring to König 1965: no. 72. 70. Gorris 2020: 85, n. 77; referring to König 1965: no. 74. 71. On these two kings, see section 42.3.3. 72. A list of attestations for su-​gìr is given in Hinz and Koch 1987: 1098. 73. The ending –​r (the so-​called delocutive ending) denotes the third person in Elamite texts, while the ending –​k (the so-​called locutive ending) is used for the first person. The equation of /​sugir/​with /​sunki.r/​can easily be understood with

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In light of the fact that there is no evidence for a Middle Elamite ruler calling himself su-​gìr in his own inscriptions, the above-​mentioned hypothesis that this term could have been used by a Neo-​Elamite king in order to emphasize a strong connection to his distant Middle Elamite predecessors, and thus to support his (possibly illegitimate)74 claim to the throne, seems far-​fetched. However, this interpretation is influenced by a well-​established trend in modern Elamite studies, namely to treat the three centuries-​long, so-​called “Dark Age” as if it were a poisonous lake, hostile to any higher forms of life, and to deny the possibility that any relevant events could have taken place within that time span. If, however, one abandons such prejudices, then the texts discussed here75 would be susceptible to a very different interpretation than has previously been the case, which would have profound implications for Neo-​Elamite chronology and the dating of all other Neo-​Elamite royal inscriptions.

42.3.3.  Šutruk-​Nahhunte son of Huban-​immena, “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II,” and their relationship with the Middle Elamite kings Four different personal names occur in an inscription of Šutruk-​ Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, on a brick from Susa,76 three of which—​Huteluduš-​Inšušinak, Šilh(i)na-​hamru-​Lagamar, and Huban-​ immena—​are preceded by su-​gìr (“king”; see section 42.3.2), whereas the author of the text is not explicitly designated by this term, but instead uses well-​known royal titles. The first two individuals are usually identified with the late Middle Elamite ruler Huteluduš-​Inšušinak and his younger brother. The latter is known only from the inscriptions of their

the background knowledge that in Sumerian writing of the third millennium bc (on which both Akkadian and Elamite scripts are based), the sign GÌR was pronounced /​ngir/​. 74. Gorris 2020: 24. 75. As well as König 1965: no. 72; see section 42.3.3. 76. König 1965: no. 72; Malbran-​Labat 1995: no. 57.

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common father, and would obviously have ruled after him.77 On the other hand, there is almost complete consensus among scholars that the author of the inscription must be identical with the ruler who is identified as “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II” (717–​699 bc) in modern scholarship.78 Only the dating of the third sugir (“king”) in the list, Huban-​immena, has been extensively discussed, especially with regard to the question of whether or not he was Šutruk-​Nahhunte’s father.79 However, while the paleography and orthography of the text differ markedly from what is found in the inscriptions of Huteluduš-​ Inšušinak,80 and a dating into the late Middle Elamite period therefore seems unlikely, there are actually many other possibilities for dating both the author of the inscription and the individuals mentioned in it. If the number of Elamite rulers known from Mesopotamian sources (figure 42.2) is indicative of the average number of Elamite rulers per century (which is just a very rough estimate), then we could expect approximately fifty Elamite kings (not counting possible local rulers) to have reigned in the interval between Huteluduš-​Inšušinak and Ummanigaš (“Huban-​ nikaš I”).81 Given the frequent repetition of names among Elamite rulers, many of them might actually have been called Huteluduš-​Inšušinak, Šilh(i)na-​hamru-​Lagamar, Huban-​immena, or Šutruk-​Nahhunte, and the latter name in particular would probably have been popular, if it really recalled the memory of a famous king of the past and thus provided his bearer with an aura of legitimacy. There are, in fact, quite a few arguments that make it unlikely that Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, is identical with the king who ruled in the second half of the eighth century bc and who is attested 77. E.g., Scheil 1904: 61; Malbran-​Labat 1995: 135; Waters 2000: 17; Tavernier 2011a: 344. 78. But note the earlier dating by Scheil 1904: xviii. 79. Potts 2016: 254; Gorris 2020: 23–​25. 80. Compare the different sign shapes in the paleographic list of Steve 1992: 42–​141. 81. A dating to the period after the one covered by Mesopotamian sources is excluded here, since it is very unlikely that paleographic and orthographic changes (section 42.3.4) occurred over such a short time span.

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in the Babylonian Chronicle as Ištar-​hundu, and in the inscriptions of the Assyrian rulers Sargon II (721–​705 bc) and Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) as Šutur-​nahhundi or Šutur-​nahudu (figure 42.2). To begin with, the occurrence in this text of rulers from a distant period in the past has never been explained sufficiently. Suggestions range from the already mentioned interpretation that Šutruk-​Nahhunte wanted to position himself within a lineage of famous kings in order to gain legitimacy, to the idea that he was referring here to statues of deceased kings rather than living persons,82 but none of these assumptions is really convincing. If the institution of kingship only reappeared in Elam in the second half of the eighth century bc, the memory of these kings would hardly have lived on or had any meaning at that time. On the other hand, if the institution of Elamite kingship had never been interrupted, then there is no necessity for such a construct. Second, it should be noted that none of the forms of the royal name attested in Mesopotamian sources contains the phoneme /​k/​, although it is perfectly possible to write the name Šutruk-​Nahhunte accurately in Mesopotamian cuneiform. Since another inscription naming Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena,83 is usually ascribed to the same ruler who left this and another inscription,84 this fact apparently did not concern previous scholars,85 although it has been noted that these two forms may have different meanings in Elamite.86 Rather, it has been assumed that the king’s actual name was Šutur-​ Nahhunte, and that he changed it later in his reign in order to create a link with his glorious predecessor of the late second millennium bc.87

82. Montagne and Grillot-​Susini 1996: 24. 83. König 1965: no. 71. 84. König 1965: no. 73. König 1965: no. 74 also contains a probable reference to the same king. 85. Note, however, the suggestion of de Miroschedji 1982: 61–​62; 1985: 278 that Ištar-​hundu/​Šutur-​nahhundi could have been “Šutur-​Nahhunte I.” 86. Lambert 1967: 48. 87. Hinz 1964: 116–​117; Tavernier 2004: 7; Henkelman 2013: 372; Gorris 2020: 32.

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If, however, the text were earlier, then there would be no need for this assumption. The kings who left inscriptions in the name of Šutur-​ Nahhunte88 or Šutruk-​Nahhunte,89 respectively, could easily have been brothers,90 or they may not have been related at all.91 Indeed, assuming an earlier dating for the text seems unavoidable, if one accepts the identification of the place name “Kartaš” (or “Karintaš”92) in the brick inscription of Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, with modern Kerend (close to the city of Eslamabad),93 since this territory was controlled by the Assyrian Empire from the reign of Tiglath-​ pileser III (744–​722 bc) onward.94 Finally, it should be noted that the fact that Ištar-​hundu (“Šutruk-​ Nahhunte II”) is described in the Babylonian Chronicle as mār ahātīšu (literally, “son of his sister”) does not necessarily exclude the possibility that he could still have been a (or even the most legitimate) son of his predecessor Ummanigaš (“Huban-​nikaš I”).95 In any case, the text does not provide us with the name of the sister’s husband. Thus, the hypo­ thesis that the father of Ištar-​hundu (“Šutruk-​Nahhunte II”) could have been an Elamite nobleman called Huban-​immena, who was never king himself,96 remains pure speculation and is based entirely on the genealogy provided in the brick inscription of “Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of

88. König 1965: no. 71. 89. König 1965: nos. 72–74. ​ 90. As suggested by Amiet 1967: 37. 91. Such a scenario is suggested by Vallat 1995b: 37–​38; see section 42.3.6. 92. König 1965: 147 n. 5 states that the spelling AŠKar-​in-​taš was attested in a variant of the text that he used for his transliteration. This statement is obviously based on Scheil 1904: 62 n. 11. Neither a photograph nor a copy of this variant appears in Malbran-​Labat 1995: 135–​136, no. 57, who re-​edited the text based on the three bricks (nos. 2442–​2444) in the Musée du Louvre, nor does she comment on it. 93. Vallat 1993: 131; Potts 2017: 346. 94. Fuchs 2003: 130. 95. For discussions of the term with earlier literature, see Potts 2018; Gorris 2020: 20. 96. Gorris and Wicks 2018: 251; Gorris 2020: 25.

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Huban-​immena,”97 but is hardly supported by the wording of the text that explicitly mentions a king called Huban-​immena some lines later.98 Re-​dating the inscriptions of Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​ immena (and perhaps also the one by Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​ immena, which shows linguistic similarities),99 to an earlier period would have important consequences for the dating of other Neo-​Elamite texts as well, since the entire debate about Neo-​Elamite chronology is centered around the observation that these texts contain more “archaic” features than any other known Elamite monumental inscriptions, which therefore should postdate them. Before discussing some of the implications of such a scenario (sections 42.3.5−7), we will highlight in the following section the main criteria that have so far been used for dating Neo-​Elamite texts, as well as the resultant ideas about decisive events in Neo-​Elamite history.

42.3.4.  Dating criteria and their influence on extant models of Neo-​Elamite history The main criterion used to distinguish Neo-​Elamite texts from those of earlier periods is paleography, i.e. the analysis of the development of the signs of the script. As is also the case with other languages written in cuneiform, there is a tendency in Elamite to reduce the number of wedges used for a sign in the course of time in order to simplify it.100 However, it should be recognized that the scripts used for different text genres did not all develop at the same pace. While royal inscriptions generally tend to use archaizing characters, other kinds of texts may have used simpler sign forms at a much earlier date. This makes it difficult to determine the exact age of administrative, or other non-​monumental, texts on the basis of comparisons with royal inscriptions. Therefore, the

97. König 1965: no. 72: i. 98. König 1965: no. 72: ii. 99. Tavernier 2004: 12–​13. 100. Steve 1992: 42–​141.

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attempt to use paleography as a criterion for the attribution of texts to certain phases of the Neo-​Elamite period must be considered generally problematic.101 More importantly, the order of entries in Marie-​Joseph Steve’s paleographic sign list depends very much upon the notion that it should be possible to date at least some Neo-​Elamite rulers precisely, by positing equivalences with similarly named individuals who appear in the Babylonian Chronicles or in Assyrian sources.102 From the 1990s onward, however, most of these traditionally assumed equivalences have been called into question.103 It has since been assumed by most scholars that all of the extant royal inscriptions—​apart from the above-​mentioned inscriptions of Šutruk/​Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena—​must postdate the “fall of Susa” at the hands of the Assyrian Empire in 647 bc.104 Whereas previously this event had been seen as a decisive moment in time, taken to basically signal the end of an independent state of Elam, the prevailing opinion now is to assume that, on the contrary, Elam came to experience a revival, presumably profiting from the collapse of the Assyrian Empire several decades later as a consequence of the events of 614–​609 bc (on which see ­chapters 38–​39 in this volume). Since no fixed chronological scheme exists for the last century of Neo-​Elamite history, and as genealogy does not provide much help in sorting out the order of the kings, new dating criteria had to be found in order to arrange the available sources in a chronological sequence that

101. Stolper 2013: 402–​403; Gorris 2020: 7–​8. 102. Steve 1992: 21–​23. The entries in his sign list are arranged accordingly, i.e., with all extant Neo-​Elamite royal inscriptions dated to the “N II” phase. He even provided explicit dates for those rulers whom he thought to be identical with those from Mesopotamian sources. These equivalences are highlighted in ­figure 42.3. Note that only texts containing historically relevant information are included in this table; therefore some expected Roman numbers are missing. Period “N IB” has been put in square brackets, since Steve did not provide a label for this period, probably due to the lack of texts. 103. Following a seminal study of Vallat 1996a. 104. It is important to keep this difference in mind when trying to trace later scholars’ arguments by means of the paleographic lists of Steve 1992.

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does not depend upon the traditional equivalences of names recorded in Elamite and Assyrian or Babylonian sources. In this regard, the analysis of royal titles came to assume an important role. Every recent reconstruction attempt makes use of this approach, albeit in different ways. According to François Vallat, inscriptions that contain the title “king of Anšan and Susa” or something similar (i.e., those of Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​ immena,105 Hallutuš-​Inšušinak,106 and Atta-​ hamiti-​ 107 Inšušinak ) must be older than those not containing any such titles (i.e., those of Šilhak-​Inšušinak,108 and of Tepti-​Huban-​Inšušinak109) since, in his opinion, the disappearance of these titles reflects the disintegration of the Elamite state and its fragmentation into smaller kingdoms in the first quarter of the sixth century bc.110 On the other hand, based on a suggestion by Matt Waters,111 Jan Tavernier has explained the same title as a statement of political ambition in the very last stage of Neo-​Elamite history, namely that of Athamaita, who rebelled against the Persian ruler Darius I in 520 bc according to the latter’s Bisotun inscription.112 Elynn Gorris accepts neither of these scenarios, but considers the possibility that Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak (who lived in the second quarter of the sixth century bc according to her opinion) could have been the “last great king in Elamite collective memory,”113 whose name was adopted by the rebel leader because of its fame.114

105. König 1965: no. 71. 106. König 1965: no. 77. 107. König 1965: nos. 86–​89. 108. König 1965: no. 78. 109. König 1965: nos. 79–​85. 110. Vallat 1996a: 391. 111. Waters 2000: 85. 112. Tavernier 2004: 23–​25. This idea is also supported by Henkelman 2008: 14. See also ­chapter 56 in volume 4. 113. Gorris 2020: 84. 114. Gorris 2020: 84.

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A large number of orthographical criteria have been cited to support these theories, the most important of which is the increasing occurrence of so-​called broken writings.115 Whereas in the Old and Middle Elamite periods, CVC-​syllables were usually spelled “harmonically” (i.e., with two syllabic signs that both contain the same vowel: CV1–​V1C), spellings with syllabic signs with different vowels (CV1–​V2C) are common in the Persian imperial period. This phenomenon has been explained by a gradual “loss” of complex signs.116 If no homophone signs existed that could replace a lost syllable and the sequence could not be written by a CVC-​ sign either, there was no alternative but to use a “broken” spelling.117 Probably by analogy, broken writings were later also used for sequences in which a harmonic spelling would have been possible (“optional broken writings”).118 It is therefore reasonable to assume that texts in which broken writings appear frequently are later than those containing none or only a few.119 Accordingly, the Susa Acropole Texts (sections 42.3.7 and 42.4.1) and the Persepolis Bronze Plaque120 can be confidently dated

115. Tavernier 2004: 32–​36. 116. Justeson and Stephens 1994: 169 date the beginnings of this process to the Middle Elamite period, while Tavernier 2004: 32 believes it occurred from the seventh century bc onward. 117. It has been suggested that this happened as part of the process of simplifying the script by abandoning complex signs: Justeson and Stephens 1994: 169. However, it is difficult to imagine how a sign that was obviously needed to write certain sequences could simply disappear. Also, the first sign to which this apparently happened (Tavernier 2004: 34–​35), namely UŠ (Steve 1992: 82–​ 85: no. 211), is not particularly complex at all. 118. Reiner 1969: 70–​71; Justeson and Stephens 1994: 169–​170; Tavernier 2004: 33. 119. Tavernier 2004: 33–​36. 120. For photographs of the Persepolis Bronze Plaque, see Schmidt 1957: pls. 27–​ 28; for a short summary of the inscription by G.G. Cameron and a description of the find circumstances, see Schmidt 1957: 64–​65. Although unpublished transliterations (allegedly produced by Hinz, as well as Reiner and Steve; see Henkelman 2008: 315 n. 728) and a copy by Steve (mentioned in Vallat 1996a: 386 n. 14) exist, the text has not yet been properly edited. While a short synopsis can be found in Waters 2000: 87–​89, the most extensive treatment so far is by Basello 2013; see now also Gorris 2020: 97–​100. On the frequency of

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to a relatively late period, and this probably also applies to the inscriptions of Hanni son of Tahhi (section 42.3.6). However, the use of broken writings does not permit any conclusions about the chronological order of the other extant monumental inscriptions, except for the fact that those of Šutruk-​Nahhunte (and eventually Šutur-​Nahhunte), son of Huban-​immena, whose inscriptions do not contain any broken writing at all,121 must date significantly earlier than all other extant inscriptions. In addition, several other orthographic criteria have been used to sort out the chronology of these texts.122 Unfortunately, these do not reveal a clear picture either, as shown by the many different arrangements proposed for the extant textual sources (figure 42.4). Moreover, it is very difficult for the non-​specialist to fully understand the arguments involved, since different transliteration conventions and unclear wording have created much confusion in the secondary literature. For example, a table by Steve showing the number of logograms in relation to syllabic sign values used in different phases of Elamite history123 has been interpreted as indicating a marked increase in the use of logograms during the Neo-​ Elamite and Persian imperial periods.124 While this is supported by the overall numbers given in the table, the table does not actually show a continuous increase in the use of logograms although it appears that in Steve’s “N II” phase, considerably fewer logograms were used than in the preceding and following periods. This can easily be explained by the fact that the texts in the “N II” phase (like the Middle Elamite ones) consist mainly of royal inscriptions, while the texts of the “N IA” and

broken writings in this and the Susa Acropole Texts, see the tables in Tavernier 2004: 34–​35. 121. Tavernier 2004: 34–​35. As for the monumental inscriptions published as König 1965: nos. 77–​89, only one type of forced broken writing is attested, namely the replacement of the sign UŠ by IŠ; see Tavernier 2004: 34–​35. 122. A convenient overview of the distribution of these features (first summarized by Vallat 1996a and frequently discussed since) is given in Gorris 2020: 256. 123. Steve 1992: 11. On the underlying assumptions and problems involved in periodization, see the previous discussion in this section. 124. Vallat 1996a: 386.

Figure 42.4.  More recent dating suggestions for Neo-​Elamite texts. The numbers given in brackets refer to the original attribution of texts in Steve’s periodization model (see ­figure 42.3).

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“N III” phases include substantial corpora of administrative texts (see figure 42.3).125 Thus, the observed distribution pattern might actually be closely related to the types of texts involved, rather than mirroring chronological distribution. With regard to the use of logograms, Vallat further observed that “innovations” were distributed unequally in time, and emphasized that the inscriptions of some kings lack them entirely.126 This would seem to imply, first, that some signs were newly created at certain points in time; and, second, that their first appearance in the available sources would be meaningful. However, given the paucity of the texts preserved, the first occurrence of a sign in the available written record does not necessarily mean that it was really created at that time; in fact, it could have been in use for decades, or even centuries, before its first appearance in the corpus of texts that survived from antiquity. Thus, while the frequent use of the ideograms EŠŠANA “king” and DUMU “son,” instead of the respective syllabic writings in Elamite texts, is certainly remarkable,127 the signs themselves are by no means new creations, but had been used in Elam—​ in Akkadian inscriptions—​since the time of the Kidinuid Dynasty of the late second millennium bc.128 Similarly, the use of logograms rather than syllabic spellings in the names of the gods Inšušinak and Napiriša129

125. I.e., the Tell-​e Malyan Tablets (section 42.3.2) and the Susa Acropole texts (sections 42.3.7 and 42.4.1). 126. Vallat 1996a: 386–​387. 127. Vallat 1996a: 387. 128. The sign EŠŠANA occurs not only in Kidinuid-​period texts (Malbran-​Labat 1995: 132), but also in inscriptions of Šilhak-​Inšušinak “I” (see Steve 1992: 139), and in the Tell-​e Malyan Tablets (Steve 1992: 139; Stolper 1984: 6; see also section 42.3.2), as well as in two Akkadian inscriptions dated by Malbran-​Labat 1995: 132–​134 to the reign of “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II”, although König 1965: 13, 71 n. 7 attributed them to Šutruk-​Nahhunte “I.” See also the discussion by Gorris 2020: 27–​29, who accepted the latter dating. 129. The occurrence of the divine name ANDIL.BAT, which is also cited as a dating criterion by some authors (Vallat 1996a: 387; Gorris 2020: 71) is too rare and the corpus of Neo-​Elamite texts too small to allow any far-​ranging conclusions.

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cannot be used as a criterion in order to differentiate earlier from later Neo-​Elamite texts.130 Only the specific spelling ANMÙŠ.LAM (rather than the earlier spelling ANMÙŠ.EREN for Inšušinak)131 might indeed be significant for the distinction between Middle Elamite and Neo-​Elamite texts, but not for a specific time range within the latter period.132 Real innovation is instead demonstrated by the use of personal determinatives. In some Neo-​Elamite royal inscriptions, as well as in other texts currently dated to the second half of the seventh century bc or later, the vertical wedge, which would normally have been used

130. The statement of Gorris 2020: 34 that “the use of the logograms dMÙŠ.LAM and DINGIR.GAL instead of the syllabic orthography in-​šu-​si-​na-​ak and na-​pi-​ri-​ša refers to the late Neo-​Elamite period (Steve 1992)” is in several respects misleading. First, Steve does not state this anywhere in his book, but the reference probably refers to the table given on p. 38 in which the use of the logograms MÙŠ.EREN and MÙŠ.LAM in different phases of Elamite history is shown. Second, the difference is not one between syllabic and logographic writing, but between the spellings MÙŠ.EREN (Middle Elamite) and MÙŠ.LAM (Neo-​Elamite); see also Gorris 2020: 28. In fact, Steve 1992: 5 explicitly refers to the difference between a syllabic spelling of Inšušinak in the Elamite inscriptions of the Middle Elamite king Untaš-​Napiriša, and the use of logograms in their Akkadian equivalents. Third, it is not possible to claim that either logographic writing per se or the use of ANMÙŠ.LAM was a specifically late Neo-​Elamite feature, since this spelling is already attested in an inscription of Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena (König 1965: no. 73C X), which is clearly one of the earliest Neo-​Elamite inscriptions known (section 42.3.3). 131. MÙŠ is given as NINNI in some earlier publications (e.g., König 1965: passim); however, the difference between MÙŠ.EREN and “NINNI.LAM” lies actually only in the second part of the name (EREN vs. LAM). 132. Unfortunately, the discussion is further blurred by the fact that the signs in question have been transliterated in different—​and sometimes even incorrect—​ ways. Note, e.g., the hint by Gorris 2020: 28 that Lambert 1967: 47 transliterated the signs MÙŠ.EREN in Scheil 1900: no. 118 incorrectly as NINNI.LAM. Similarly, the claim by Hinz and Koch 1987: 1328 that BM 136847 (a text that has been compared to the Tell-​e Malyan Tablets; see Walker 1980: 76) should be dated to Šilhak-​Inšušinak “II” is substantiated by the alleged spelling “v.šil-​ ha-​ak.d.MÙŠ.LAM,” whereas, according to the copy by Walker 1980: 78: l. 7′, the text actually shows MÙŠ.EREN. Thus, it is important to have a closer look at the shape of the actual sign forms on the object in question before drawing any conclusions about the dating of a text.

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to classify personal names, is occasionally replaced by the signs GAM, BE, or HAL,133 and there are also cases where it was entirely omitted.134 However, it is impossible to determine exactly when these features first appeared,135 and since the use of the vertical wedge is still (or again) attested in the Persian imperial period,136 variant writings hardly permit us to draw any chronological conclusions regarding the order of the texts in which they occur.137 More important than mere spelling conventions are those cases in which spelling might indicate phonological changes in the Elamite language. It has been observed that in some monumental inscriptions,138 locutive forms are spelled with the consonant h rather than k, which indicates a different pronunciation.139 However, while this has been taken as an argument for a very late dating of the texts in question,140 forms with h and those with k also occur side by side in inscriptions of

133. Steve 1988: 23–​24. Here, too, additional confusion is created by the fact that various scholars interpret the same signs differently. Thus, for example, the determinative preceding the royal name in an inscription by Hallutaš-​ Inšušinak is copied and transliterated as GAM by König 1965: no. 77: l. 1 (see also Basello 2013: 255), but as a slightly sloping DIŠ (I) by Malbran-​Labat 1995: no. 58: l. 1 (see also Tavernier 2014: 61), while Gorris 2020: 34 reads the same sign as BE. 134. In all of the inscriptions of Tepti-​Huban-​Inšušinak (König 1965: nos. 80–​83; no. 85) and Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak (König 1965: nos. 86–​87) where the beginning of the royal name is attested, as well as in an inscription of Hallutaš-​ Inšušinak (Steve 1987: no. 25: l. 1). 135. Note, however, Steve’s suggestion in 1988: 24 that BE might not be a graphic derivation from GAM, but could go back to an Assyrian logogram. 136. The sign DIŠ precedes the royal names again in almost all royal inscriptions of the Persian imperial period (Steve 1988: 24), with the notable exceptions of the texts CMc (DMb) (Basello 2013: 255) and A2Sa (Steve 1988: 24). 137. As claimed by Gorris 2020: 73. 138. König 1965: no. 76 (Hanni), no. 77 (Hallutaš-​Inšušinak) and nos. 87–​89 (Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak). 139. Vallat 1996a: 387. 140. E.g., Tavernier 2004: 18.

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the same ruler.141 Another phenomenon that is well known from the Persian imperial period, namely the occasional transition from n to m in certain contexts,142 occurs in a number of Neo-​Elamite texts,143 including some that can confidently be dated at least as early as the end of the seventh century bc (sections 42.3.6−7). Looking at the linguistic and orthographic criteria as a whole, it seems that they are practically useless for establishing a fixed order of rulers. As the number of possible scenarios suggested shows, different results may be obtained depending on which criteria are prioritized. Moreover, the frequent occurrence of different spellings within the same corpus of inscriptions, or even within just one text, indicates that there was hardly any spelling standardization in the Neo-​Elamite period, and we should therefore not generalize observations made on the basis of one text to the entire corpus of a ruler’s inscriptions in order to establish his position within a sequence of rulers. But, most importantly, a more general observation arises from these considerations. In order to establish the date when the above-​mentioned changes occurred, scholars continue to use Steve’s periodization, although the close examination of these features has shown that they cannot at all serve as the basis for constructing a chronology. After all of the proposed re-​datings,144 the only texts of potentially chronological relevance to remain in Steve’s phase “NE II” are the inscriptions of Šutruk/​Šutur-​Nahhunte son of Huban-​immena (figure 42.4).145 141. Compare König 1965: no. 87: i 5; iv 3. Of particular interest is the possible occurrence of a mixed form (-​ih-​ki) in an inscription of Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak (König 1965: no. 89: l. 10: su-​un-​ki-​h-​ki), but the context is difficult to interpret. 142. Paper 1955: 62. 143. Vallat 1996a: 387–​388. 144. The other texts listed by Steve 1992: 21–​22 (some administrative texts, an omen and a hemerology) cannot be securely dated. 145. Apart from the widely accepted equivalence of Šutruk/​Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, with “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II,” also the names “Huban-​menanu” (Umman-​menanu) and “Huban-​immena III” are highlighted in fi ­ gure 42.4, since the assumption that those persons were identical constitutes the basis of the chronological scheme of Vallat 1996a (section 42.3.6).

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If these compositions are older than currently assumed—​and if thus the last link to the Babylonian Chronicles would disappear—​then all of the changes described above could have taken place gradually over a long period of time beginning in the reign of Huteluduš-​Inšušinak, and the entire chronology currently favored by most scholars would be null and void.146 In that case, there would no longer be any need to squeeze all of the known texts into a period of 100–​150 years. Rather, one would have a much longer period of time at one’s disposal for historical considerations and reconstruction. Hence, prosopography remains the most reliable way to establish a fixed order of kings. In spite of all the problems involved in this method, it remains a useful instrument when combined with archaeological, iconographical, and other historical information contained in the sources.

42.3.5.  Locating the stele of Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak in time A text worth re-​examining in light of the preceding observations is found on a stele of Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak son of Hutran-​tepti (figure 42.5), fragments of which have been excavated at Susa.147 While scholars have observed that this text displays similarities to the inscriptions of Šutruk-​Nahhunte II, e.g., in the use of royal titles,148 as well as in its paleography and orthography,149 they have hesitated to

146. The suggestions made in the following section are all based on this assumption. They are not intended to provide definitive answers, but rather to offer new ways of thinking. If one sticks with the assumption that all monumental inscriptions other than those of Šutruk/​Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​ immena, date to the very last phase of Neo-​Elamite history, one must explain why no inscriptions of the other kings attested in the Babylonian Chronicles and the Assyrian inscriptions have been found at Susa. 147. König 1965: nos. 86–​89; based on a reconstruction by Pézard 1924: 1–​26, pl. I. Unfortunately, the circumstances of its discovery are unknown. A reconstruction of the stele is displayed in the Musée du Louvre. 148. Vallat 1996a: 391. 149. Tavernier 2004: 25.

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accordingly date Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak to an earlier period.150 Instead, they have explained these phenomena as “archaizing” features, supposedly reflecting a wish to re-​establish the glory of earlier times and attributable to the fact that passages from earlier texts were copied by the scribes who composed this text.151 This explanation has been put forward mainly for historical reasons. Originally, Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak was dated to sometime after Šilhak-​Inšušinak and his son Tepti-​Huban-​ Inšušinak,152 presumably because it was assumed that the latter was identical to Te’umman, the archenemy of Ashurbanipal of Assyria (section 42.3.4), and no Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak preceding him was known. Later, it was suggested that he might be identical to the father of “Huban-​haltaš III” (after 648 bc) who was called Attametu in Assyrian inscriptions, and ruled from 653 to 648 bc as the “local successor” of Tepti-​Huban-​ Inšušinak.153 After these two possibilities were called into question, Atta-​ hamiti-​ Inšušinak was dated to sometime after the Assyrian

150. See fi ­gure 42.4. However, archaeologists originally suggested on stylistic grounds a date around 650 bc: Amiet 1966: 566, fig. 431; Muscarella 1992: 198, fig. 140; see Álvarez-​Mon 2013: 464. 151. The reasoning in Gorris 2020: 81, which argues that Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak would have known “the stele” of “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II” (referred to there as “EKI 72” =​König 1965: no. 72) and must therefore have reigned after 626 bc does not make sense. First, this text is not recorded on a stele but has instead been reconstructed from a number of thin bricks (Malbran-​Labat 1995: 136; these bricks were described as tablets by König 1965: 20). The correct reference should be to König 1965: no. 73. Second, there may well have been many more steles of Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena (and other earlier kings), than just the one known to us. Third, it is questionable whether the passage in the inscriptions of Ashurbanipal of Assyria (668–​631 bc) stating that he took away an “image” of Šutur-​Nahhunte has anything to do with this object at all. In any case, the account in one of the Babylonian Chronicles, according to which Nabopolassar of Babylon (625–​605 bc) returned the gods(!) of Susa to Susa in his accession year (Grayson 1975: Chronicle 2: ll. 16–​17) can certainly not be taken as proof that he would have reinstalled “the,” or any, statue or stele of Šutruk-​Nahhunte in the temple of Inšušinak. 152. Scheil 1911: 78. 153. Cameron 1936: 190–​ 191; this idea was accepted by Hinz 1964: 157; de Miroschedji 1985; Stolper 1992b: 199.

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Figure 42.5. The fragmentary stele of Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak from Susa (width: 66 cm; height: 94 cm). Musée du Louvre, accession no. Sb 16. © 2010 RMN-​Grand Palais (musée du Louvre)/​Franck Raux.

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conquest of Susa in 647 bc,154 since he could no longer be identified with a ruler mentioned in the Mesopotamian sources. The possibility of an even earlier dating was never considered since there was a consensus that his stele must postdate the inscriptions of Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, and the latter was—​and still is—​identified with “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II” (717–​699 bc), i.e., Ištar-​hundu of the Babylonian Chronicles (section 42.3.4). It is notable that an unpublished text allegedly exists, according to which Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak and Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​ immena, were contemporaries.155 Since the text remains unpublished, it is impossible to determine whether the Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak who authored it is the same as the particular person mentioned in the brick inscription of Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena.156 Moreover, without being able to examine the exact wording of the passage, it is impossible to draw any reliable historical conclusions from the secondary literature published to date.157 Nevertheless, it is intriguing to think that this text might actually provide us an insight into Neo-​Elamite history before the Babylonian Chronicles if Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, was indeed identical with, or lived prior to, “Šutruk-​ Nahhunte II.” For Vallat, who referred to this text but did not consider the possibility of an earlier dating for Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, it prompted a very different interpretation, which involved the necessity of assuming the existence of yet another ruler called Šutur-​Nahhunte. In Vallat’s opinion, Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, should be identified as “Šutruk-​Nahhunte II,” while Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of

154. First by Vallat 1995b: 38; 1996a: 391; but see ­figure 42.4 for other dating suggestions. 155. Vallat 2006: 59: “Comme Sutur-​Nahhunte, fils de Huban-​immena, manœuvre à Ayapir, j’ai mâté son armée.” The sentence is intentionally left untranslated here, due the fact that Vallat has not published the original Elamite text. 156. König 1965: no. 72. 157. Henkelman 2008: 14 n. 23.

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“Huban-​immena III,” would have reigned sometime after the fall of Susa.158 This scenario, however, raises a number of difficulties and has therefore been rejected by several scholars. First, it is based on the assumption that the names Huban-​immena and Umman-​menanu are identical, which is not necessarily the case. Second, Umman-​menanu’s reign lasted from 692 to 689 bc, while his son Šutur-​Nahhunte would have come to the throne almost fifty years later, which seems historically implausible.159 Third, this historical reconstruction implies that the inscriptions from Izeh on the Malamir Plain, in which a reference to a King Šutur-​ Nahhunte, son of Indada, appears (section 42.3.6), must date to a very late period (585–​539 bc), which, according to Tavernier, does not fit the assumed development of broken writings.160 Dating the inscriptions of Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak (and perhaps also that of Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena)161 to a time before the Babylonian Chronicles would be an elegant solution that reconciles Vallat’s unpublished text with current chronological considerations based on paleography and orthography.

42.3.6.  Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Indada, and Hanni, son of Tahhi: local rulers or kings of Elam? One piece of evidence in the complicated chain of arguments put forward by Vallat is the cylinder seal of a certain Huban-​kitin son of King (EŠŠANA =​ sunki) Šutur-​Nahhunte.162 Based on its clearly Babylonian iconography that shows two rearing mušhuššu dragons on either side of a spade, the symbol of the god Marduk (figure 42.8),163 this seal has been

158. Vallat 1995b: 37; 1996a: 393. 159. Henkelman 2013: 372; Gorris 2020: 31. 160. Tavernier 2004: 19. 161. König 1965: no. 71. 162. Referred to below as “Jerusalem Seal.” Amiet 1973: no. 34 with earlier lit.; the seal is also depicted in de Miroschedji 1982: 61 and Potts 1999: fig. 8.7. 163. Waters 2000: 115.

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stylistically assigned to the end of the seventh or the beginning of the sixth century bc.164 According to Vallat, the owner of this seal was probably a son of Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena.165 However, since no patronym is provided for Šutur-​Nahhunte in the seal inscription, this hypo­ thesis cannot be proven, and it is equally possible that Huban-​kitin was the son of another ruler with this name. An attractive option would be to identify the Šutur-​Nahhunte of this seal with Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Indada,166 whose name and genealogy are attested in the votive inscription on a carnelian bead in the Schøyen Collection,167 and on one of the flaring finials of a gold ring found in a tomb near Ram Hormoz.168 He is also mentioned in a lengthy rock inscription at Kul-​e Farah near modern Izeh on the Malamir Plain, that was authorized not by himself, but by a certain Hanni son of Tahhi (see below in this section).169 As its origin is unknown, not much historical information can be gained from the bead’s votive inscription. It has been suggested that the epithet “of the Gate of Anzan”170 of the otherwise unknown deity Uiršu, to whom the inscription is dedicated, might indicate that Anšan was part of Šutur-​Nahhunte’s realm,171 but it could simply be an honorific epithet devoid of actual geographical significance.172 Moreover, the

164. Amiet 1973: 18–​19; de Miroschedji 1982: 61. The main argument for this dating is the assumption that such a seal must be the product of a royal workshop, but could not have been carved by Elamite craftsmen in the period after the fall of Susa, assuming Babylonian dominance. 165. Vallat 1995b: 38. 166. Waters 2000: 54–​55; Tavernier 2004: 20; Álvarez-​Mon 2013: 468; Henkelman 2013: 372. 167. Vallat 2011: 191–​192: no. 91. 168. Shishegar 2015; Potts 2016: 302. The text is quoted in Wicks 2017: 150. 169. König 1965: no. 75: § 14. 170. Vallat 2011: 191. 171. Vallat 2011: 191; Potts 2016: 299. 172. Gorris 2020: 63.

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Figure 42.6.  View of Shekaft-​e Salman in the Malamir Plain, indicating the location of the four rock monuments, including the inscription of Hanni son of Tahhi (III). Image by Elamite Museum, using photography by Javier Álvarez-​ Mon, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index. php?curid=​93360​920), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 4.0 (CC-​ BY-​SA-​4.0) license.

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wording refers explicitly to the “gate” of Anšan, thus possibly referring to a border region rather than Anšan itself.173 The inscription on the gold ring is even less informative, although its find circumstances are quite intriguing. The object was discovered in 2007 together with several other precious objects in a vaulted tomb located close to a river bank near the modern village Jubaji (or Joobji), 7 kilometers southeast of Ram Hormoz.174 The tomb contained two so-​called “bathtub coffins” with the remains of an elder and a younger woman who certainly belonged to the elite of Neo-​Elamite society.175 In terms of grave furnishings,176 the tomb is closely comparable to another Neo-​Elamite tomb that was discovered in the valley of the Marun river at Arjan, near Behbahan, in 1982.177 Amongst many other spectacular finds, the Arjan tomb contained a comparable gold ring with the inscription “Kurluš son of Kidin-​hutran,”178 thus providing the name of another possible Neo-​Elamite (local?) king. Importantly, however, it was not King Šutur-​Nahhunte himself who was buried in the Jubaji tomb, and his relationship to the two women interred there is unknown. Nevertheless, it seems very likely that the women were part of his family, and that he therefore had a strong connection with the region in which the grave is located.179 It is thus very interesting that its findspot lies only

173. Compare the much earlier reference to Huhnur as the “bolt of the land of Anšan” in Ibbi-​Sin of Ur’s Year 9 (cf. ­chapter 13 in volume 2). See Potts 2016: Table 5.2. 174. Shishegar 2015; Potts 2016: 302; Wicks 2017: 150; 2019: 46–​47. 175. Wicks 2017: 150; 2019: 46–​48. 176. Potts 2016: 301–​302. 177. Alizadeh 1985; Stronach 2003; Álvarez-​Mon 2010. 178. Vallat 1984: 1; Henkelman 2003a: 185–​186; Potts 2016: 290, 302; Wicks 2017: 149−150; 2019: 93; Gorris 2020: 145. The same text is found on three more objects from the grave (Wicks 2017: 149; 2019: 93; Gorris 2020: 145). 179. Gorris 2020: 63 has suggested that the women may have been his wife and daughter; although plausible, this is pure speculation.

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7 kilometers from Tepe Bormi, a site that has yielded substantial Neo-​ Elamite (and earlier Elamite) remains, and could therefore be identical with one of the major royal cities mentioned in the Assyrian sources.180 The Ram Hormoz Plain is located in a politically and economically strategic position, namely on the road from Susa to Behbahan and to the Iranian Plateau beyond,181 and another road leads up to the Malamir Plain, a route which certainly existed also in antiquity. It was in the Malamir Plain, centered today on the modern town of Izeh, that the most famous text related to Šutur-​Nahhunte son of Indada was found, namely an inscription by Hanni son of Tahhi.182 The problematic dating of this and other inscriptions of Hanni from the same region has occupied generations of scholars, and not only philologists, but also archaeologists, since the inscriptions are associated with many rock reliefs showing cultic scenes.183 These were carved over the course of several centuries into the steep walls of two gorges to the west and east of the Malamir Plain, suggesting that these places functioned as outdoor sanctuaries.184 While the reliefs in and around a cave at the end of the western gorge, known as Shekaft-​e Salman (figure 42.6), are mostly of older date (including the one accompanied by a lengthy inscription of 180. The idea that Tepe Bormi could be the remains of ancient Huhnur (Mofidi Nasrabadi 2005) has been disputed. Alizadeh 2013 (see also 2014: 238 n. 84) rejected the identification, based on his knowledge of the (unknown) origins of the brick of the Ur III king Amar-​Sin that led to it, as well as on the results of earlier surveys (Wright and Carter 2003) and his own studies in the region (Alizadeh 2014), which suggested that it was unoccupied between 2800 and 1900 bc (accepted by Gorris 2020: 140). On the other hand, according to Potts (2016: 116), A. Moghaddam and W. Henkelman confirm that the brick definitely came from the Ram Hormoz region. This position is cautiously accepted by Wicks 2017: 150 n. 8 and Gorris and Wicks 2018: 265. 181. Gorris 2020: 140. 182. König 1965: no. 75. 183. On the site as a whole, see de Waele 1989; Álvarez-​Mon 2019: 27–​38, 42–​91. 184. de Waele 1989: 35; Seidl 1997: 202; Malbran-​Labat 2004: 46; Henkelman 2008: 44; Potts 2016: 296.

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Hanni),185 it is generally assumed that Hanni himself ordered at least the cutting of one of the reliefs in the eastern gorge called Kul-​e Farah (in earlier works, Kul-​i Fir‘aun), where he left the above-​mentioned inscription.186 Notably, the reliefs in the Malamir Plain are the only known Elamite rock reliefs accompanied by inscriptions. Although other examples are known of Neo-​Elamite reworking of older reliefs in places of traditional cultic importance,187 none provides the name of the person who commissioned these changes. In fact, the practice of adding one’s own image and inscriptions at ideologically important sites recalls Assyrian practices.188 One would therefore like to know who Hanni was, what models he used for creating these monuments, where he found craftsmen competent to carve both the images and the Elamite inscriptions into the walls of the gorges, and what historical circumstances allowed or even compelled him to create such impressive monuments in a remote valley enclosed by steep mountains. It is generally assumed by most modern scholars that Hanni himself was not a “king,” or at least not a “king of Elam,” but a vassal of king Šutur-​ Nahhunte, son of Indada.189 If this is correct, then it makes the display of power in these monuments even more striking. Thus, their existence has

185. “Shekaft-​e Salman III”; see Álvarez-​Mon 2019: 44–​46 with earlier literature. On the inscription, see Hinz 1962; König 1965: no. 76; de Waele 1976: 137–​ 139. Short epigraphs are also attached to figures on the other three reliefs in the gorge (“Shekaft-​e Salman I,” “Shekaft-​e Salman II,” and “Shekaft-​e Salman IV”; see König 1965: 76A-​I), thus associating depictions from earlier times with Hanni’s own family members and royal household; see Álvarez-​Mon 2019: 45–​46. 186. Álvarez-​Mon 2019: 91. 187. Other outdoor sanctuaries that were also modified over time are known at Kurangun in the Fahliyan region (Álvarez-​Mon 2019: 15–​22) and Naqš-​e Rustam (Álvarez-​Mon 2019: 23–​26). 188. For a discussion of this practice, see Radner 2005: 190–​203. A notable example is the accumulation of the depictions and inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I and Shalmaneser III of Assyria at the supposed source of the Tigris at Bırkleyn; see Schachner 2009. 189. Stolper 1990: 277; Potts 2016: 299.

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led to much speculation about the fragmentary state of Elam in one of the latest phases of its history.190 However, while Hanni indeed explicitly refers to Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Indada, as a king (EŠŠANA =​sunki),191 their relationship remains tantalizingly unclear.192 First, the exact meaning of the relevant word ba-​me is uncertain: it is usually understood as an order given by King Šutur-​Nahhunte or a service that Hanni was required to perform.193 Perhaps more importantly, the assumption that Hanni himself was only a “kutur of Ayapir”194 may actually be founded upon a misunderstanding of the Elamite text. Hanni explicitly states in all of his inscriptions that he was “the son of Tahhi, [who was] the kutu(r) [perhaps “governor”] of Ayapir,”195 not that he was kutu(r) himself. Moreover, the term kutu(r) occurs several times elsewhere in the text, particularly in connection with a certain Simimi, whom Hanni claims to have promoted (?) as kutu(r) of Ayapir,196 and possibly also as kutu(r) of

190. Possible scenarios are discussed in Potts 2010: 122–​124. 191. König 1965: no. 75: §14. 192. It is not even clear that the two individuals were contemporaries. Hanni could also have lived later than Šutur-​Nahhunte. Compare also the reference to an otherwise unknown “King Halkataš” (su-​gìr hal-​ka4-​taš) in the Atta-​hamiti-​ Inšušinak Stele (König 1965: no. 86: §X), and the references to “King Šutruk-​ Nahhunte” in the Šutruru Stele (König 1965: no. 74: §35, §40). 193. In Hinz and Koch 1987, ba-​me is translated as “Dienstbarkeit (?),” i.e., “service,” with reference to earlier interpretations as “Auftrag; Weisung” (“order”) or “œuvre” (“work”). Stolper 1990: 277 emends the phrase to ba-​me . . . huttanka “[Since] I served [Šutur-​Nahhunte].” 194. This interpretation is already implied in König’s translation (e.g., König 1965: 157), and has been repeated ever since. 195. E.g., König 1965: no. 76: §1. The double use of the delocutive (i.e., third person) ending -​r after both kutu and Ayapir, which closely connects the two words, can hardly be interpreted differently, in particular if one assumes (following Reiner 1969: 102 n. 1; see Stolper 1990: 277) that -​hi after Tahhi is not part of his name, but the Neo-​Elamite version of the locutive (i.e., first person) ending -​k. According to the Elamite grammar of previous periods, the locutive ending -​k should have been repeated after the patronym; the ending -​ir-​ra might actually be an attempt to indicate this (/​rak/​> /​rah/​> /​ra/​). 196. König 1965: 76: §2.

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the Zami people.197 This indicates that, in accordance with Hanni’s claim that he enlarged his “house” (a-​a-​in),198 his authority actually surpassed that of his father, who was simply a kutu(r) of Ayapir. Taking into account the remote geographical location of the Malamir Plain, which could only be accessed via routes from locations in the corridor between Susa and Ram Hormoz or from regions east of the Zagros, it is tempting to speculate that Hanni himself might have been “king of Elam.”199 At first sight, this seems unlikely since he does not use any royal titles, but actually not all individuals who have been identified as “kings” on the basis of their inscriptions did so. Only Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena; Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena; and Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak, who probably dates to a much earlier time (section 42.3.5), assumed the title “king of Anšan and Susa,” whereas there are others with either no title at all (namely Tepti-​Huban-​Inšušinak, son of Šilhak-​Inšušinak, in all his inscriptions)200 or whose names are only preceded by “king” (namely Šilhak-​Inšušinak, son of Ummanunu, in his one inscription).201 Therefore, in light of the inscriptions of other alleged “kings of Elam,” the absence of royal titles cannot be taken as a decisive argument for the non-​royalty of an individual. There are several possible explanations for the explicit mention of his father’s title: it might 197. König 1965: 76: §1. Note that König 1965: 160 interprets AŠza-​mi-​ip (in König 1965: no. 76: §1) as a kind of priests, but it seems more likely that this plural term refers to an ethnic group, perhaps even the region of Zamin as mentioned in the Nineveh Letters; see Gorris 2020: 94. 198. König 1965: no. 75: §7; Stolper 1990: 277. 199. It is nowhere stated that Huban-​kitin followed Šutur-​Nahhunte on the throne, and one could even consider the possibility that his father was just a local ruler. Note, in this context, that the tomb of the two women who were probably members of his family (see above) was located at Jubaji near Ram Hormoz, rather than in the region of Susa. On the other hand, one may question whether Susa was still the capital of Elam at the time of his reign; see section 42.5. 200. König 1965: nos. 79–​85. 201. König 1965: no. 78. The only known inscription of Hallutuš-​Inšušinak (König 1965: no. 77) strangely uses a variant form of the title “king of Anšan and Susa,” replacing the word “king” in this phrase by a vague expression referring to the enlargement of his realm.

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indicate that Hanni was not a member of the previous Elamite royal house, or he may have provided this information in order to emphasize his strong familial connection with the religiously significant region of Ayapir where his monuments were carved.202 Some iconographic considerations may strengthen the theory that Hanni’s dominion was not restricted to Ayapir. The bulbous headdress with which he is portrayed is very similar to that of Ummanaldaš (“Huban-​haltaš III”; 648; 646–​645 bc), as depicted on a stone slab from the carved wall decoration of the North Palace of Ashurbanipal of Assyria (668–​631 bc) at Nineveh (figure 42.7),203 and this individual is explicitly described as “king of Elam” in some of Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions.204 The only difference is the fact that Hanni wears his hair in a pair of long braids hanging down beside his ears. While this has been taken as an indication that he may not have been of royal status,205 it could easily be explained otherwise. As for Hanni’s garment, it is notable that its rich embroidery with metal appliqués closely resembles the clothing of Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak as shown on his stele (figure 42.5), and the garment depicted on a faience slab from Susa,206 thus likewise suggesting a connection with Susa. That Ayapir was within the economic orbit of Susa is attested by a number of texts from an archive found close to the acropolis of Susa (section 42.3.7). If a certain Simimi, who is mentioned in one of these texts in relation to Ayapir,207 was identical with the kutu(r) of this name mentioned by Hanni, there would even be an actual connection between

202. This presupposes that, in accordance with modern scholarly opinion (Stolper 1990: 277), Ayapir is identical with the region around modern Izeh. 203. Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 48–​50. 204. E.g., Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9: iii 35. Ummanaldaš is also identified by name in the inscription accompanying the depiction on the already discussed stone slab from the North Palace. 205. Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 202 n. 80; Gorris 2020: 62. 206. Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 266; Gorris 2020: 148. 207. Scheil 1907: no. 147: l. 16.

Figure 42.7.  Fragmentary stone slab from the wall decoration of Ashurbanipal’s North Palace in Nineveh, showing a sequence of events in the capture of Huban-​haltaš III, king of Elam. Recognizable from his characteristic royal dress consisting of a distinctive bulbous cap and a long robe, Huban-​haltaš is depicted twice: first when being apprehended by an Assyrian soldier in the mountains, and then when being made to board an Assyrian chariot that would deliver him to Ashurbanipal. The lioness stalking a wild goat in the bottom left corner of the slab may be seen in parallel with the Assyrian troops determinedly hunting down their prey. The fragmentary cuneiform inscription identifies Huban-​ haltaš (in Assyrian, Ummanaldaš) and describes the circumstances of his flight and capture. British Museum, BM 124793. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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these two text corpora, providing additional evidence for their relative dating. But given the frequent repetition of names in the Neo-​Elamite period, and in the absence of any indication of filiation in these texts, this cannot be established with certainty. In any case, these are the most promising sources for an understanding of the complicated system of governance in late Neo-​Elamite times, and of the coexistence of individuals bearing the titles of sunki “king” and kutu(r) “governor (?)” within it.

42.3.7.  The Susa Acropole Texts and their relevance for Neo-​Elamite chronology The Susa Acropole Texts (or simply Acropole Texts) owe their modern name to the fact that they were found close to the mound that was designated by the French excavators in the nineteenth century as the acropolis (French acropole) of Susa.208 This part of the city constituted the main temple area of Susa in Middle Elamite and probably also Neo-​Elamite times,209 before the Persian kings erected their palaces in this city. In light of the fact that priests obviously played an important role in the distribution and redistribution of commodities in different parts of the Neo-​Elamite state,210 one may perhaps consider the possibility that the Acropole Texts represent a temple archive, rather than a palace archive as usually assumed. The main person mentioned in the archive was a certain Kuddakaka,211 but his profession, status, and ethnic background cannot be ascertained. Since his name occurs in 57% of the Acropole Texts, and the archive is rather small, with about 300 tablets,212 it has

208. On the findspot, see de Morgan 1905: 34–​36; Scheil 1907: I; Amiet 1973: 3–​4 with n. 1; Potts 2016: 291; Basello and Giovinazzo 2018: 488. 209. Gorris 2020: 133. 210. Note the contents of the Šutruru Stele: König 1965: no. 74. 211. Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 198; Gorris 2020: 65. 212. Compare the estimated 15,000–​18,000 Elamite tablets that have been found in the Persepolis Fortification Archive; see Jones and Stolper 2008: 43.

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been suggested that its temporal duration may not have extended much beyond the reign of a single king (ca. twenty-​five years).213 As for the identification of the king(s) in question, many suggestions have been made, but none of them can be taken for granted. A significant problem is caused by the fact that the corpus has not been properly re-​edited since its primary publication by Vincent Scheil at the beginning of the twentieth century,214 and while Scheil’s very fragmentary and tentative transliterations have been slightly improved,215 his drawings of the original tablets currently provide the only source for the actual shape of the signs. Furthermore, many important passages are incompletely preserved, and the orthographic and phonetic principles behind the use of certain spellings are not well understood, e.g., the logographic sign EŠŠANA/​LUGÀL vs. the syllabic spelling su-​un-​ki,216 and the spelling of certain names with or without initial consonants.217 Despite these difficulties, the corpus has played an important role in the reconstruction of Neo-​Elamite history. The most important inferences based upon these texts are: (a) that a certain “king BEUm-​ba-​nu-​nu son of Sunki(-​x)” (or alternatively perhaps “King BEUm-​ba-​nu-​nu, the son of the king”)218 was the principal king of Elam at the time of the archive and may be

213. Stolper 1992a: 268; see Gorris 2020: 65. 214. Scheil 1907. 215. See the transliteration and translation in Yusifov 1963. 216. The hypothesis, in Gorris 2020: 69, that the former was used to denote “royal names,” while the latter indicated normal persons, is untenable (section 42.4.1). 217. Note, for example, the occurrence of names starting with Um-​man-​ (and perhaps also Um-​ma-​ and Um-​ba-​) as opposed to the common Hu-​ban-​ names (see the index of Scheil 1907: 204, 206). Whether this indicates a different regional or ethnic background of the persons in question, or is merely based on the scribe’s writing preferences, cannot be established at the moment. 218. Scheil 1907: no. 165: l. 4.

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identical to Ummanunu, the father of Šilhak-​Inšušinak,219 who is known from an inscribed bronze object (“calotte en bronze”) found at Susa,220 and probably identical to the father of the well-​attested king (?) Tepti-​Huban-​Inšušinak;221 (b) that a certain Huban-​kitin, “son of King (?) [ . . . ]”, attested in one of the texts,222 might be the son of Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​ immena, or of Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Indada (section 42.3.6); (c) that additional “kings” are also mentioned in this archive,223 including a certain Appalaya, king of the (otherwise unknown) Zarians;224 (d) that the “Samati-​sons”225 who occur in one of the texts are identical with some of the Samatian kings who are known from objects in the Kalmakarra Hoard;226 (e) that the passage transliterated as ša-​ba-​ḥu-​ri by Scheil in one of the texts227 should instead be read as EŠŠANA Ba-​hu-​ri “King Bahuri,”228 and that this may refer to the sender of the so-​called Nineveh Letters (section 42.4.2);

219. Vallat 1996a: 389, 393; Waters 2000: 96; Tavernier 2004: 31; Potts 2016: 292. This reconstruction, which is based on the genealogical information provided by Šilhak-​Inšušinak and Tepti-​Huban-​Inšušinak in their inscriptions, is generally accepted; but note Waters 2000: 96; Gorris 2020: 72. 220. König 1965: no. 78. 221. Unlike Šilhak-​Inšušinak, Tepti-​Huban-​Inšušinak is not explicitly designated as “king” in his numerous inscriptions: König 1965: nos. 79–​85. 222. Scheil 1907: no. 5: ll. 9–​10. 223. Vallat 1998a: 104; Gorris 2020: 64–​71. 224. Waters 2000: 95; Tavernier 2004: 30; Gorris 2020: 100–​102, 125, 173, 179 with n. 193. 225. Scheil 1907: no. 94: rev. 11. 226. Vallat 1996c: 21–​22. On the Kalmakarra Hoard, see in particular Henkelman 2003a: 214–​227; 2008: 28–​29 with n. 75. 227. Scheil 1907: no. 281: rev. 8. 228. Tentative suggestion by Vallat in Steve et al. 2002–​2003: 481; Gorris 2018: 314 n. 3; taken for granted in Gorris 2020: 69.

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(f ) that a certain Tallak-​kutur attested in one of the texts229 may be identical with an Elamite military commander who is mentioned by Bahuri in two of his Nineveh Letters,230 and in another related letter that was found in the Ville des Artisans at Susa;231 ( g) that Ururu and Huban-​ahpi,232 as well as Addaten and the woman Ammaten, who occur together with Huban-​ahpi in another document,233 might be identified with homonymous persons who figure prominently in the text of the Persepolis Bronze Plaque.234 (h) To this list, one may add the occurrence of Simimi, who may be identical with the kutur (perhaps “governor”) of Ayapir mentioned in the Hanni inscriptions (section 42.3.6). (i) Furthermore, there is also a possible reference to a “king of Egypt,”235 as well as several attestations of people designated as “Assyrians.” Since the accuracy of these observations is not only extremely relevant for a relative or even absolute dating of the texts involved, but also for our understanding of the nature of Elamite rule in the relevant period of time, the arguments used to support them will be carefully evaluated in the following section.

42.4.  The Elamite state in the first millennium bc 42.4.1.  Kings and kinglets at Susa and elsewhere

As outlined above (section 42.3.4), it is impossible to date the Susa Acropole archive based on paleographical and orthographical features 229. Scheil 1907: no. 155: l. 3. 230. Weißbach 1902: no. 1: l. 7 (translation in Hinz 1986: 228) and no. 10: l. 8 (translation in Hinz 1986: 229). 231. Paper 1954: 79 no. 1: ll. 5–​ 6 (translation in Hinz 1986: 230). Vallat 1998a: 100–​101. 232. Scheil 1907: no. 144: l. 6. 233. Scheil 1907: no. 167: ll. 4, 8, rev. 6. 234. Vallat 1996a: 388; Steve et al. 2002–​2003: 483–​484; Basello 2013: 253. 235. Scheil 1907: no. 158: rev. 5–​6; Waters 2000: 95; Tavernier 2004: 30.

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alone, since we lack comparable earlier texts that can be securely dated. The fact that none of the alleged kings who occur in the Acropole texts can be identified with any of the rulers known from the Babylonian Chronicles or the Assyrian sources is not a valid argument for a later dating per se since in an administrative archive, the name of the ruling king does not necessarily have to be mentioned at all. Thus, the only way to securely confirm a date after the latest Assyrian records on Elam would be to establish that one of the “kings” in question was really the paramount ruler of Elam at the time of the archive. This, however, is very difficult to prove. Both the equation of “King Umbanunu” with Ummanunu (?), father of Šilhak-​Inšušinak, and his identification as the paramount ruler of Elam, are highly problematic. First, the only text in which a “King Umbanunu” occurs236 is markedly different from all the others in the archive due to the fact that it uses Assyro-​Babylonian capacity measures,237 thus perhaps indicating an origin in one of the Babylonian-​Elamite borderlands.238 If Umbanunu really was the paramount ruler of Elam, one must ask why he appears in reference to a delivery, and why his father’s name (or perhaps profession)239 is also provided in this document.240 It should also be noted that the spelling of his name seemingly differs from that of the father of Šilhak-​Inšušinak on the above-​mentioned bronze object (section 42.3.7),241

236. Scheil 1907: no. 165. 237. Scheil 1907: 146; Basello 2011: 74–​75; Gorris 2020: 70. 238. However, it should be noted that the seal that was used on this tablet shows a clearly Elamite motif, namely two rearing horses; see Gorris 2020: 70. 239. The first signs following DUMU (“son”) are su-​un-​ki, which may be interpreted either as “king” or as the first part of a personal name starting with sunki. If Scheil’s copy is correct in indicating a (barely legible) sign before the following sign NA (which could be interpreted as a genitive marker), the latter hypothesis is more likely. 240. If one really wanted to use this attestation for chronological reconstruction, this fact should be taken into account, too. 241. At least according to the transliteration of König 1965: no. 78: I 2; note, however, that this is marked with a question mark.

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which may indicate that the two names are in fact different.242 But even the status of Šilhak-​Inšušinak is unclear. The only text documenting his existence contains only the title sunki “king,” but there is no indication as to which territory this title refers to. Given the fact that both the paramount ruler of Elam, as well as persons of lesser rank, held this title (see below in this section), he might just have been a local ruler, and the possibility that he or his father Ummanunu (?) may have reigned contemporaneously with one of the better known “kings of Elam” cannot, therefore, be excluded. The identification of Huban-​kitin in one of the Susa Acropole Texts as either the son of Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​immena, or the son of Šutur-​ Nahhunte, son of Indada (section 42.3.6), is equally problematic. According to François Vallat, there is an indirect link between the kings mentioned in the Babylonian Chronicles and those of the Acropole archive, which allows for a rather precise dating of the latter, shortly after Ashurbanipal’s conquest of Susa in 647 bc.243 However, the large gap in time between the reigns of Šutur-​Nahhunte and his alleged father Umman-​menanu (“Huban-​immena III”),244 as well as the different spellings of the latter’s name, constitute serious problems,245 and it is unnecessary to construct such a scenario if one accepts the suggestions made in sections 42.4.3−6. More plausible is Jan Tavernier’s suggestion that the king Šutur-​ Nahhunte, who is mentioned as Huban-​ kitin’s father on a cylinder seal from the antiquities market, now in the collection of the Israel Museum in Jerusalem (hence known as the “Jerusalem Seal”; figure 42.8), was instead Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Indada,246 even if he cannot be situated as precisely in time.247 Assuming that Ummanunu was 242. Gorris 2020: 70. 243. But note that according to Vallat’s reconstruction, at least two other kings (Hallutaš-​Inšušinak and Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak; see section 42.3.4) should precede Ummanunu; cf. the table in Vallat 1996a: 393. 244. Vallat 1995b: 38; see section 42.3.6. 245. Henkelman 2013: 372. 246. Tavernier 2004: 20; see section 42.3.6. 247. Accordingly, Tavernier 2004: 39; 2006 cautiously assumes a gap between the reign of Huban-​haltaš III and that of Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Indada.

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Figure 42.8.  Modern impression of the so-​called Jerusalem Seal, a cylinder seal of Huban-​kitin son of King Šutur-​Nahhunte, as identified by its cuneiform inscription. Collection of the Israel Antiquities Authority (accession no. IAA 1965-​261), kept in the Israel Museum, Jerusalem (Hahn-​Voss Collection). Photo © The Israel Museum, Jerusalem.

the reigning monarch at the time of the Acropole archive, and that he was preceded by at least one other king after Šutur-​Nahhunte,248 both Vallat and Tavernier date the Acropole texts to considerably later than Šutur-​Nahhunte’s reign.249 Apart from the unreliability of the orthographical and paleographical criteria that underpin this reconstruction (section 42.3.4), it should be noted though that Huban-​kitin appears as “son of king,” not as a king himself, in the Acropole text, thus suggesting a temporal closeness to the reign of one or the other Šutur-​Nahhunte’s, if in fact he was really identical to the person mentioned in the inscription on the “Jerusalem Seal.” However, while such a scenario is attractive with respect to further possible links between the various texts mentioned above (section 42.3.7), it should be noted that it remains uncertain whether the Huban-​kitin who is attested in the Acropole text was really the son of a king at all. The name of his father is not stated in the document, and there are several other individuals with the name Huban-​kitin attested

248. For a convenient comparison, see the table in Henkelman 2008: 7. 249. Vallat 1998b: 311 (600–​575 bc); Tavernier 2004: 32 (ca. 590/​580–​565/​555 bc).

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in the corpus, too.250 Moreover, the sign EŠŠANA/​LUGÀL could also be interpreted as the first element of a personal name, and indeed the placement of Huban-​kitin’s name in this text, after those of four other high-​ranking administrators,251 seems to indicate that he was involved in the administrative processes documented by the tablets.252 This observation raises another important issue, namely the general identification of “kings” in the archive. Two problems are involved. On the one hand, it is not actually clear what exactly this title actually implies. On the other hand, it is often difficult to decide whether the logogram EŠŠANA/​LUGÀL or syllabic writings of sunki “king” are supposed to be read as a title or as the first element of a personal name. Attempts to solve the latter issue have reached very different conclusions. Building on the interpretation of the above-​mentioned passage by Yusif Yusifov,253 Vallat suggested that EŠŠANA/​LUGÀL should be regarded as part of a personal name when preceded by a determinative, but as a royal title when followed by one. However, since personal names in this corpus, if they occur as the second part of a filiation (i.e., the father’s name), are always written without the determinative,254 this observation is almost meaningless for establishing Huban-​kitin’s status in the present context. A recent study by Elynn Gorris deviates from Vallat’s hypothesis. Assuming that the use of logographic vs. syllabic spelling may be a criterion for identifying royal titles,255 she 250. Cf. the index in Scheil 1907: 206. 251. Basello 2011: 70 with n. 42. 252. Gorris 2020: 69. Note also the mention of “the people of Huban-​kitin” in Scheil 1907: no. 52: l. 4. Gorris’s suggestion in Gorris 2020: 70 that he may have been provided with an honorary title “son of the king,” rather than actually being one, is not at all convincing. 253. Yusifov 1963: 202, 231: no. 6 (quoted after Vallat 1995b: 38). Yusifov’s interpretation was considered by de Miroschedji 1982: 61 n. 46 and Steve 1986: 15, and accepted by Waters 2000: 54 and Tavernier 2004: 30; however, the latter raised doubt about whether this Huban-​kitin is really identical with the one on the “Jerusalem Seal.” Cf. also Gorris 2020: 31. 254. Scheil 1907: no. 52: l. 4; Gorris 2020: 69. 255. Gorris 2020: 69.

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regards all occurrences of the logogram EŠŠANA/​LUGÀL (including those that were hitherto regarded as parts of personal names) as royal titles and thus comes up with a considerably longer list of “kings” than any other scholar before her.256 While this notion is questionable in the case of names for which comparable forms consisting of two parts exist,257 this approach is particularly difficult to accept for those cases where a divine name remains as a personal name after removing the LUGÀL component,258 and is certainly entirely impossible in the case of BEMAN LUGÀL DUMU Hu-​ban-​gi-​sir, which must stand for “Šimut-​sunki (!), son of Huban-​g isir,” but which Gorris interprets as “Huban-​g isir . . . , son of King Šimut,” so as not to contradict her hypothesis.259 While Gorris’s proposal can thus safely be discarded, it is still possible that the archive indeed refers to several individuals who might have had a status that could be described by the Elamite word sunki “king” in certain contexts. The most obvious example is one Appalaya, who is explicitly called “king (EŠŠANA/​LUGÀL) of the Zari people” in one of the Acropole texts,260 and whose name appears as a gentilic for a group of people called the “Appalayans” in another.261 The fact that a group of people are designated by the name of their leader is typical in tribal situations, and it is likely that Appalaya, and possibly also his brother (?) Marduk, who is called “king of the Zarians” in one text,262 and “son of

256. Gorris 2020: 68–​69. 257. E.g., BELUGÀL(-​)hu-​pi-​ti in Scheil 1907: no. 153: rev. 14 (interpreted as “King” Hupiti by Gorris 2020: 68) vs. BE dša-​ti-​hu-​pi-​ti in Scheil 1907: no. 3: l. 3. 258. See especially the example of two alleged BEMANs (=​“Šimuts”) of Hadanu (Haidalu?) and Bupilu, respectively, in Scheil 1907: no. 152: ll. 2–​5. On the occurrence of Šimut in the Susa Acropole Texts, see Henkelman 2011: 511. 259. Gorris 2020: 69. 260. Scheil 1907: no. 71: ll. 1–​2. 261. Scheil 1907: no. 82: l. 8. 262. Scheil 1907: no. 80: ll. 3–​4.

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Zari”263 in another, were the sheikhs of a tribal community, possibly of Aramean origin,264 that might also be called the Zarians. Although this is the only case in which a connection between a group of people and a person explicitly designated as “king” can be made directly in the texts in the Susa Acropole archive, the Zarians, or Appalayans, are not the only people referred to by the name of their leader. Rather, this phenomenon is quite common in the archive.265 That some of these leaders indeed had royal status, at least in their own community, can be demonstrated by the example of the Samatians. Vallat observed that a number of persons who are identified in one of the Susa Acropole texts as “Samati-​sons”266 are actually identical with individuals whose names are engraved on several precious metal objects from the Kalmakarra Hoard, reportedly found in a cave near Khorramabad in Luristan, over 200 km north of Susa in the Zagros Mountains.267 Unlike Appalaya, Samati was apparently not the name of a living person, but known as a tribal name in the Old Elamite period.268 While there is no explicit mention of a “king” of the Samatians in the relevant text,269 several inscriptions on objects from the Kalmakarra Hoard refer to their owners as “king of Samati” or “son of King . . . ”, respectively,270 including

263. Scheil 1907: no. 126: l. 9. According to Henkelman 2003a: 213 n. 114, this should possibly be understood as “inhabitant of Zari” since the word is usually preceded by a determinative indicating toponyms. See also the detailed discussion in Gorris 2020: 100–​102. Zari is otherwise unknown; see Henkelman 2003b: 257. 264. Henkelman 2003a: 213 with n. 114; 2003b: 257; 2008: 6, 37 n. 36. 265. See, e.g., the examples given by Vallat 2002. 266. Scheil 1907: no. 94: rev. 11: BEpu-​hu sa-​ma-​ti-​ip. 267. Potts 2016: 304. The Kalmakarra Hoard is described and discussed in detail by Henkelman 2003a: 214–​227. 268. Scheil 1908: no. 104: rev. 1; the dating of this text to the Old Elamite period by Vallat 1996c: 21 seems to be mainly based on the archaic (or monumental?) sign forms. 269. Scheil 1907: no. 94. 270. For a convenient table, see Henkelman 2003a: 223.

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Anni-​šilhak, the brother of Ampiriš, and Unzi-​kilik son of Ampiriš, who are probably both also attested in the Susa Acropole text in question.271 Since Anni-​šilhak is listed first,272 and Unzi-​[kilik] comes only in the eleventh position,273 it seems likely that the former was king at this time, but it is also possible that his brother Ampiriš was still the reigning monarch and that this is the reason why Anni-​šilhak is not provided with a royal title. From this short survey, it can be concluded that the Susa Acropole archive contains references to many more (future?) “kings” or local rulers than is evident from the titles, and that in those cases where the title is mentioned, their area of jurisdiction was explicitly defined. This brings us back to the question of the status of Umbanunu, who is simply qualified as “king” in the archive, without further specification. Both in inscriptions from the core region of Elam and on objects from the Kalmakarra Hoard, the title “king” seems to precede the royal name if the person in question is referred to in the third person,274 whereas in a ruler’s own inscriptions, the title follows his name.275 While there are also cases of alleged kings who did not use any royal titles in their inscriptions (namely Tepti-​Huban-​Inšušinak),276 in those cases where the title is mentioned, the extent of the territory ruled is always specified by the monarch himself, such as “king of Anšan and Susa,”277 or “king of Samati.”278 The omission of this information in inscriptions by others is

271. Scheil 1907: no. 94: l. 4; rev. 8; Vallat 1996c: 22. 272. Scheil 1907: no. 94: l. 4. 273. Scheil 1907: no. 94: rev. 8. 274. See, e.g., the list of sugirs in the inscription of Šutruk-​Nahhunte, son of Huban-​ immena (section 42.3.3), the mention of king Šutur-​Nahhunte, son of Indada, in Hanni’s inscriptions (section 42.3.6), or the unusual inscription of Šilhak-​ Inšušinak that was written in the third person (König 1965: no. 78). 275. Cf., e.g., König 1965: no. 71 A +​B: i. 276. See König 1965: nos. 80–​84; the beginning of nos. 79 and 85 is missing. 277. E.g., König 1965: no. 71 A +​B: i. 278. See the table in Henkelman 2003a: 223.

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therefore noteworthy. It could either be taken as an indication that the knowledge of the extent of this person’s power was self-​evident to the administrator who wrote or commissioned the text, or that sunki was used as an honorific. The first possibility is unlikely in view of the fact that the filiation of Umbanunu is explicitly stated, because if he really was the king of Susa or Elam, this information would have been superfluous. Nevertheless, it is also difficult to explain why he, of all the persons mentioned in the Susa Acropole archive, should have been named with an honorific. Like Appalaya, the name Umbanunu is also attested elsewhere in the archive without an accompanying royal title. It occurs once with the explicit identification that he belonged to the “Bakur(r)ians,279 and a second time in a broken context.280 Of course, it cannot be excluded that these two mentions refer to other homonymous persons, but given the similarity of the latter name with the only other person mentioned in the archive whose name might be preceded by the title “king,” a certain Bahuri, one wonders whether there might not be a connection between the two of them.281 Therefore, it could very tentatively be suggested that the Bakur(r)i who appears as the eponymous leader of a group here might actually be identical to the “King Bahuri” attested, according to Vallat,282 in one of the Acropole texts and who, again according to Vallat,283 might have been identical to the author of the so-​called Nineveh Letters (section 42.4.2), who possibly claimed to have created a new kingdom.284

279. Scheil 1907: no. 167: l. 10: BEUm-​ba-​nu-​nu ba-​kur-​ri(?)-​pe-​ra(?). 280. Scheil 1907: no. 282: l. 4. 281. Given the fact that phonological changes, including the weakening from k to h and from h to ’, are attested in the period (section 42.3.4), this does not seem to be a totally impossible scenario, although it must be admitted that those changes have so far only been noted in initial and final positions of the words in question. 282. Steve et al. 2002–​2003: 481. 283. Steve et al. 2002–​2003: 481. 284. Vallat 1998a: 97–​98 with n. 10; but see section 42.4.2.

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In this case, Umbanunu could have been Bahuri’s successor as the king of Zamin, the status of which in relation to Elam may have differed from that of other political entities mentioned in the Acropole texts, a fact which might have called for its leaders to be acknowledged by their royal title by the administrators of the archive at Susa.285 Such a reconstruction, of course, involves many assumptions, such as the emendation of Scheil’s reading ša to EŠŠANA,286 but the idea that all of these texts refer to the same person, namely Bahuri, is tempting, since this equation not only would afford insight into the political situation of the Elamite state at this time, but may even provide a hitherto missing link (cf. section 42.3.4) between these sources and the Mesopotamian record.

42.4.2.  Bahuri, the Nineveh Letters and the “kingdom of Zamin” The origin and dating of the correspondence of Bahuri have been the subject of intensive debate, even though (or perhaps because) no proper edition of the corpus of the so-​called Nineveh Letters exists.287 Most of the relevant texts are in the British Museum, where they were acquired between 1848 and 1898 (figure 42.9).288 Based on their accession numbers, it has usually been assumed that they were found during the early British excavations on Kuyunjik mound at the Assyrian capital city of

285. Of course, it is also possible that the presence or absence of such a title is not significant. 286. Vallat in Steve et al. 2002–​2003: 481. 287. The history of research (including information on some joins that have been made) is summarized by Ellyn Gorris in Gorris, Lebrun and Tavernier 2013: 9. The texts are usually quoted according to the numbers given in Weißbach 1902 (who provided only copies) as Nin 1–​25; only a few texts have been transliterated in full (Hinz 1986 with commentaries on some other passages; see also the different partial translations by Vallat 1998b and Koch 2006. 288. Two other tablets that obviously belong to the same correspondence were reportedly found at Susa (Scheil 1907: no. 88; Paper 1954: 79 n. 1; see Vallat 1998a: 100) and another one close to the Arjan tomb (Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 166–​167). A photograph of the latter tablet was published in Álvarez-​Mon 2010: pls. 91–​92.

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Nineveh (hence their modern designation), but doubt has been cast on this claim.289 Since the origin of these tablets has implications for their dating, as well as our understanding of the last phase of Elamite history more broadly, the controversy over their original provenance has become highly charged, and it may be helpful to review the main arguments here. A basic problem is caused by the fact that early excavations at Nineveh in the nineteenth century were not conducted or documented according to modern standards. There is plenty of evidence that objects originating from other sites were occasionally given, or sold, to the excavators of large sites, and thus ended up in museum collections to which they clearly did not belong. It is thus theoretically possible that the “Nineveh Letters” were brought to Nineveh from elsewhere. Suspicion has been nurtured by the fact that, unlike all other tablets in the Kuyunjik collection, Bahuri’s letters are written in the Neo-​Elamite language and cuneiform script. The natural environment for such texts would be southwestern Iran, and since it is known that some of the early excavators also traveled in that area,290 the idea that they could have acquired the tablets there is reasonable. Inspired by remarks of some early excavators of Susa, namely Gustave Jéquier and Jacques de Morgan, that the British Museum housed a small collection of Elamite tablets from sites in the Malamir Plain,291 Vallat postulated that the Nineveh Letters may have come from there.292 However, while a Malamir connection would tie in nicely with the existence of a letter reportedly found near the Arjan tomb,293 this idea can easily be

289. Vallat 1988; 1998a. 290. Reade 1992: 87. 291. Jéquier 1901: 134; de Morgan 1902: 134. These tablets are not to be confused with the so-​called Malamir Tablets from the Middle Elamite period, which are stored in the Louvre, but likewise probably do not stem from Malamir (see ­chapter 34 in volume 3). Nevertheless, given the obvious importance of the place for Elamite religion and politics (section 42.3.6), it would be of immense interest to conduct controlled archaeological excavations there. 292. Vallat 1988: 27; 1998a: 95, 104. 293. Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 166–​167.

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Figure 42.9. One of the tablets from the Elamite-​language correspondence of Bahuri, excavated at Nineveh and therefore known collectively as the “Nineveh Letters.” British Museum, K. 1325. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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dismissed since it is based on an early misunderstanding of the scholarly literature. Many years ago, Erica Reiner noted that Jéquier probably confused “Malamir tablets” with “Malamir script and language,” as the texts were described in the principal edition by Franz H. Weißbach,294 and she therefore concluded that Malamir was not the Nineveh Letters’ place of origin.295 Indeed, Vallat’s suggestion was implicitly based on an important assumption, namely, that the French excavators must have based their knowledge about the British Museum collections on information provided by others.296 However, no such information exists in the extant English secondary literature. The earliest traceable reference to tablets from Malamir in the British Museum is the treatment by Johann Strassmaier and Archibald Sayce of one of Bahuri’s letters from Kuyunjik in the postscript of an 1885 article entitled “The inscriptions of Mal-​Amir and the language of the second column of the Akhaemenian inscriptions.”297 The relevant text is described by Sayce as a “sale or lease of a house,”298 which corresponds well with Jéquier’s statement that the texts were contracts,299 rather than letters. It is thus quite obvious that the information on which Vallat based his assessment was confused and, consequently, that the Nineveh Letters’ supposed origin in Malamir is a myth.300

294. Weißbach 1902: 168. 295. Reiner 1963: 174; 1969: 62. This statement was obviously forgotten, while her cautious doubts regarding the question of whether or not the tablets really came from Nineveh (Reiner 1969: 63) initiated future speculations that led to exactly this hypothesis (Vallat 1988: 26) and have been frequently repeated ever since. 296. The fact that de Morgan 1902: 134 speculated that Loftus may have discovered the texts clearly shows that he was not very well informed about this matter. 297. Sayce 1885: 754–​756. 298. Sayce 1885: 756. 299. Jéquier 1901: 134. 300. Note in this context also the remark by Reade 2000: 89 on the chronological problems involved in Vallat’s scheme.

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However, without any concrete hints for a different place of origin, there is no longer any reason to doubt that these texts indeed came from Nineveh. As Julian Reade pointed out in detail, the acquisition numbers of the tablets clearly show that the tablets did not come to the British Museum all at once, but were found by different excavators at Kuyunjik in different excavation seasons.301 While this may appear peculiar at first sight considering that the texts obviously constitute a coherent archive,302 it is actually a strong argument in favor of their Ninevite origin. If the texts had been acquired by one person, in one place, at one point in time, then it would be difficult to explain why they were acquired by the British Museum over a period of fifty years.303 On the other hand, if they were found separately at different times, or if a coherent archive, discovered as a single find, was split up intentionally by antiquities dealers, then the tablets would certainly not all have ended up in the same museum, but rather in different collections. The best explanation of the situation at hand is therefore that the Nineveh Letters were indeed found in the course of regular excavations by the British Museum at Kuyunjik. Indeed, the temporal distribution of the text accessions perfectly matches the duration of the excavation seasons conducted at Nineveh,304 and matches those of the texts from the Assyrian royal archives unearthed on Kuyunjik now kept at the British Museum.305 For historical considerations, this latter observation is very important. All of the tablets containing Bahuri’s correspondence that can be

301. Reade 1992; 2000. 302. Vallat 1998a: 96. 303. Vallat 1998a: 105 rationalizes the different accession dates by suggesting that the tablets were first brought from Malamir to Susa, but since they were of little relevance to the excavations there, they were simply put on a shelf and stored until a later date. However, it is inconceivable that the British excavators George Smith, Hormuzd Rassam, and E.A. Wallis Budge removed tablets that belonged to the French delegation at Susa and took them back to England. 304. On the dates of the excavations conducted at Nineveh, see the table in Reade 2001: 392–​394. 305. Reade 2000: 89.

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attributed to specific excavation seasons were probably found in the area of the Southwest Palace of Nineveh and,306 given the coherence of the corpus, it is very likely that all of Bahuri’s letters stem from there.307 Originally built by Sennacherib of Assyria (704–​681 bc) in place of an earlier building,308 this palace was not only the findspot of a substantial number of the tablets with learned and literary compositions that are today usually designated as the “Library of Ashurbanipal,” but also the repository of letters and other state documents written by officials, scholars, and members of the royal household during the reigns of Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc) and his successor Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc), and even later (cf. c­ hapter 40 in this volume). Since some of these texts also deal with Elamite affairs,309 it is tempting to think that Bahuri’s Elamite-​ language letters were found at Kuyunjik because they formed part of the Assyrian state correspondence. Alternatively, however, they may owe their presence at Nineveh to historical events that accompanied the fall of the city, or they may postdate the conquest of Assyria, a period that is very poorly documented. According to the so-​called Fall of Nineveh Chronicle (­figure 39.8 in ­chapter 39),310 Nineveh was conquered by a coalition of Babylonian and Median troops, but little is known about the subsequent fate of the city.311 It is possible that Elamites were involved in this venture, too, since the carved wall decorations in Room XXXIII of the Southwest Palace show traces of destruction that were obviously deliberately directed toward specific Elamite individuals who might have

306. Reade 1992: 88. 307. Reade 1992: 88. 308. Reade 2001: 411. 309. See in particular the Babylonian correspondence of Ashurbanipal, published by Parpola 2018. There is also a large number of letters and other documents referring to Elam among the letters of earlier kings. 310. Grayson 1975: Chronicle 3: ll. 38–​47. 311. There is some evidence that the city was not totally deserted, but that parts of Sennacherib’s palace were restored in later periods (Dalley 1993: 134, 137–​140).

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been regarded as traitors by some of their countrymen.312 In this case, the presence of these letters at Nineveh could perhaps be explained by the existence of an Elamite garrison there.313 Alternative datings of the Nineveh Letters allow for different historical reconstructions. For example, Bahuri could have been an Elamite ambassador, a political refugee, a captive, or a hostage at the Assyrian court, who either reported on or even tried to inspire a rebellion in Elam. On the other hand, he might have been in charge of Assyrian affairs after the fall of Nineveh, perhaps entrusted with this task by the Elamite king himself. Each of these scenarios has implications for our understanding of the balance of power in the Middle East in the last days of the Assyrian Empire and after its fall, and it is therefore important not to rush in interpreting the material. Since both the contents of the letters and the archaeological situation in which they were found are still largely unclear, the starting point for any historical consideration in one or another direction must be the material aspects of the clay tablets on which they were written and particularly the structural relationship between the senders and addressees. As the Nineveh Letters were obviously all written by, or on behalf of, one person, namely Bahuri, son of Mazzine,314 but were addressed to various recipients, it is reasonable to assume that the tablets found at Nineveh were never actually sent. This does not, however, mean that the messages they were meant to convey never reached their destinations. Indeed, the discovery of two of Bahuri’s letters at Susa, dealing with the same sort of matters as raised in the texts from Nineveh, clearly shows that at least some of his messages were actually dispatched and received. Thus, like other letters from the Assyrian state correspondence,315 the

312. Reade 1992: 88; Nylander 1999. 313. Reade 1992: 88. 314. At least, Bahuri occurs as the sender in all letters where the beginning of the text is preserved. According to Vallat (oral communication, quoted in Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 167), he was also the sender of the letter that was found near the Arjan tomb. 315. See, e.g., Parpola 2018: xxxii–​xxxiii on the correspondence of Ashurbanipal with Babylonia and other vassal states; also Ito 2019.

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Nineveh Letters may actually be drafts or archival copies, and Walther Hinz’s observation that two tablets seem to contain different versions of the same letter would seem to confirm this.316 However, this does not necessarily imply that the Nineveh Letters were written contemporaneously with the Assyrian royal archives. One certainly must raise the question how it was possible that someone at Nineveh was empowered to send orders in their own name to people in the Elamite heartland. Hinz explained this situation by noting the good relations that existed between the Elamite kingdom and the Assyrian Empire in the final days of Assyria. To his mind, Bahuri was a special ambassador at the Assyrian imperial court, who sent reports about a rebellion in an Elamite-​Assyrian border region (during which the children of a brother of the king named Kudurru were killed)317 back to the Elamite royal court.318 Assuming that the “land of Hara(n),” a messenger of whose king occurs in one of the letters immediately before a “king of the (land of ) Ashur,”319 was identical with the upper Mesopotamian city of Harran, Hinz further argued that, although the Assyrian Empire must have still existed, it was in a weakened state when the letter was written, and he thus dated the corpus to late in the reign of Sin-​šarru-​iškun of Assyria (626–​612 bc).320 However, Greta Van Buylaere and Elynn Gorris have convincingly refuted the identification of Hara(n) with upper Mesopotamian Harran.321 Instead, they both locate this place somewhere in the

316. Hinz 1986: 229, referring to the texts edited as Weißbach 1902: no. 1 and no. 10. 317. Weißbach 1902: no. 1: ll. 18–​19, according to the translation by Hinz 1986: 228; note that the predicate of the sentence is partly restored both in this text and in the very similar letter edited as Weißbach 1902: no. 10: l. 16. 318. Hinz 1986: 232–​232. 319. Weißbach 1902: no. 13: ll. 3–​4; translated in Hinz 1986: 231. Note that only traces of the word Ashur are recognizable. 320. Hinz 1986: 234. 321. Van Buylaere 2016: 136; Gorris 2018: 321, 340; and see also Vallat 1993: 79. A strong argument against Hinz’s Harran thesis is the occurrence of Hara(n) in a number of other Elamite sources, namely two texts from the Susa Acropole

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Elamite-​Assyrian border zone.322 Based on geographical and phonetical considerations, they suggest that Bahuri’s own realm of Zamin may be identified with a city called Samunu that appears in a list of cities conquered by Ashurbanipal of Assyria.323 They also assume that Samunu is probably identical with Sam’una,324 a city identified in the inscriptions of Sargon II (721–​705 bc) as a stronghold of Šutur-​Nahhundi of Elam (“Šutruk-​Nahhunte II”) in the Yadburu region.325 Van Buylaere further built on this interpretation by arguing that Bahuri may have re-​founded his own ancestral house at Zamin (equated with Samunu/​ Sam’una) and re-​ established close connections with Elam, after this region had belonged to the Assyrian Empire for several decades.326 To bolster this claim, she makes an assumption, originally postulated by Vallat, namely that Bahuri was the founder of a royal house. Vallat himself had originally suggested that a certain phrase following the introductory formula of several of the Nineveh Letters327 might be taken as evidence for a coup d’état in Elam that was led by Bahuri at Zamin at the time when, according to Vallat’s chronological scheme (figure 42.4), archive (Scheil 1907: no. 117: 1 and no. 147: rev. 3) and another text from the Persepolis Fortification Archive (see Gorris 2018: 324 with n. 16). Note also the occurrence of BEha-​ra-​an in Scheil 1907: no. 38: l. 13 and no. 96: rev. 3, where it might be used as a personal name or ethnonym instead (Gorris 2018: 322–​324). 322. Both discuss the possibility of an identification of the place with Dur-​Abi-​ Hara, a former stronghold in the Gambulu region, and other toponyms that occur in Assyrian and Babylonian sources as well as the Bible; see Van Buylaere 2016; Gorris 2018. 323. Van Buylaere 2018 (announced in Van Buylaere 2016: 146); Gorris 2018: 315 n. 6, 335; 2020: 95, 114, 126. 324. Van Buylaere 2016: 146. 325. Van Buylaere 2018: 54. 326. Van Buylaere 2018. 327. Vallat 1998a: 97. This idea is based on his translation of the phrase that follows immediately on the introduction formula in many letters as “C’est par moi que la maison royale a été créée,” or as “C’est par moi que la (nouvelle) dynastie a été fondée.” According to Vallat 1998a: 104 n. 30, circumstantial evidence favoring this interpretation is also provided by the possible mention of a “King Bahuri” in the Acropole Texts (section 42.4.1).

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Ummanunu reigned at Susa.328 In his opinion, the fact that Zamin is explicitly described as belonging to Elam in another letter,329 the occurrence of “King Bahuri” in the Susa Acropole texts (section 42.3.7), and the large geographical extent of Bahuri’s correspondence330 all indicate that this coup d’état did not lead to hostile relations between the two monarchs,331 and he took this as a criterion for a rather late dating of the texts, namely the period between 585 and 539 bc.332 Gorris likewise accepted both the idea that Bahuri was the (re-​) founder of the dynasty of Zamin,333 and the assumption that the “Nineveh Letters” attest to the simultaneous reign of several rulers during the period in question.334 However, in contrast to Vallat, she did not interpret this as a sign of weakness, but rather as a strength of the Elamite state, arguing that the realm might have been organized at this time as a “federal state.”335 While this idea, which goes back to a suggestion made by Dan Potts,336 seems generally attractive in light of the fact that there is evidence for persons who were allowed to call themselves kings, but also delivered commodities to Susa (section 42.4.1), Gorris’s, and especially Van Buylaere’s, dating of the letters to the last years of the Neo-​Elamite period prior to the rise of the Persian Empire, 328. Vallat 1998a: 96; cf. also the slightly different phrase that he treats on p. 98. According to his chronological framework, this episode would date to the first part of the sixth century bc (but see section 42.3.4). 329. Weißbach 1902: no. 5: ll. 2–​3; translated by Hinz 1986: 229–​230. 330. In Vallat’s opinion, the geographical extent reached from Malamir to Susa; but see above in this section for serious reservations raised about this assumption. 331. Vallat 1998a: 100. 332. Bahuri and Zamin are not mentioned in the chronological table provided in Vallat 1996a: 393; however, the corpus can be linked to this table by the statement in Vallat 1998a: 96 that Bahuri’s “coup” would have happened at the time when Ummanunu reigned at Susa. 333. Gorris 2020: 93. 334. Gorris 2020: 176. 335. Gorris 2020: 175–​176. 336. Potts 2010: 123–​124.

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in combination with the interpretation of their contents, raises additional questions. If Vallat’s suggestion that someone might have made bold claims of having founded a new royal house or dynasty in Elamite territory without causing hostilities with the Elamite king is already barely convincing, the assumption that a local ruler who had only just re-​established the independence of his territory vis-​à-​vis the Assyrian Empire should have sent messages in this regard from the Assyrian royal court at Nineveh to officials in the Elamite heartland is stranger still. The only possible way to explain this would be to assume that he did this with the consent of the Assyrian king and as a result of political negotiations. This, however, does not mesh well with the alleged military contents of the letters.337 One might therefore also consider the possibility that the letters are of a slightly later date, around the time of the conquest of Nineveh. In this case, Bahuri may have been involved in the battles preceding the fall of Nineveh and declared the independence of his realm, which might even have included areas within the formerly Assyrian territory, afterwards. However, one must stress that it is not at all certain that the phrase in the Nineveh Letters should be understood as an important political statement. Given its position immediately after the introductory phrase, one might perhaps also consider the possibility that it could have been part of the greeting formula, perhaps addressing the well-​being of both the sender and the recipient.338 The frequent repetition of the phrase in different letters could be an argument in favor of this hypothesis, although its omission in others would require an explanation. Unfortunately, we lack comparanda since there are no other Neo-​Elamite letters available that might shed light on this matter.339

337. The translations in Hinz 1986 are very suggestive in this direction, but due to the uncertainties regarding the Elamite lexicon, very little in them can actually be taken for granted. 338. Compare, e.g., the greetings of Assyrian kings to their inferiors; e.g., Parpola 2018: no. 16: ll. 2–​3: “I am well; you can be glad.” Perhaps the signs could be combined into different phrases than currently assumed? 339. But note the letters mentioned in Stolper 2004: 63 and Tavernier 2020: 166.

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The existence of not only the original letters, but also drafts or archival copies, is remarkable and might suggest that the texts date to the time of the Assyrian royal archives. In this context, a final hypothesis should be considered, namely Reade’s tentative suggestion that Bahuri may be identical with Pa’ê,340 who, according to Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions, reigned in Elam “in opposition to” Ummanaldaš (“Huban-​haltaš III”; 648 and 646–​645 bc),341 before surrendering to Ashurbanipal.342 While the differences in the spelling of the names cannot be easily explained, this idea offers yet another dating option and another possible historical scenario to consider, specifically the strong political influence of the Assyrian Empire on Elam in the period immediately following Ashurbanipal’s Elamite campaigns.343

42.5.  Perspectives on the transition from the Neo-​Elamite to the Persian imperial period Given the diversity of approaches and hypotheses discussed in this chapter, it should be clear that much work needs still to be done before a clear picture of the Neo-​Elamite period is likely to emerge, and only then will it be possible to determine Elam’s role in the events that led to the creation of the Persian Empire. As a first step, the role of the Assyrians in the Susa Acropole Texts and in the Nineveh Letters should be critically investigated. Do they appear to be representatives of the leading power of the time in these texts, or as subjugated people? And if the latter, could these texts indicate that after the fall of Nineveh in 612 bc, part of their former realm was now governed by the Elamites (rather than the Babylonians or the Medes),

340. Reade 2000: 89. 341. E.g., Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: vii 51–​52. 342. E.g., Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: vii 56–​57. 343. The most detailed description of these campaigns is found in Ashurbanipal’s own inscriptions; for summaries and/​or historical analyses see, e.g., Gerardi 1987; Potts 2016: 269–​281; Novotny and Jeffers 2018: 20–​25.

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whether directly or indirectly? In order to answer these questions, it would be important to securely establish the status of Bahuri in relation to the addressees of his letters, as well as that of other officials at Susa and elsewhere. Since no kings of Elam can securely be identified in the Susa Acropole texts (section 42.4.1), it may be impossible to determine who actually reigned in Susa, or Elam, at that time, but for understanding the general political situation this issue is perhaps less important. Much more significant in this regard is the question of where the center of Elamite power was actually located, both before and after the alleged destruction of Susa at the hands of Ashurbanipal’s forces in 647 bc. While the idea that after the loss of Anšan, the city of Susa must have been the capital of Elam in the first millennium bc is usually taken as a given, there is little evidence of this, beyond the fact that Susa is a huge site that has yielded a number of Neo-​Elamite royal inscriptions, and that most of our evidence for Elam in the first millennium comes from there (section 42.2.1). In fact, apart from the titles of some (probably early) kings in which reference to Anšan may be an indication of the extent of the realm rather than the location of the king’s royal seat, Susa seems to be mentioned only once in the extant texts of the Assyrian royal archives, in a list that mentions it among many other place names.344 The only explicit evidence that the city of Susa may indeed have had some relevance for the Elamite royal succession at the time appears in the royal inscriptions of Ashurbanipal, which state that the Assyrian monarch ushered the Elamite king Ummanigaš (“Huban-​nikaš II”; 653–​652 bc) “in[to] the land Madaktu and the city Susa and placed him on the throne of Te’u[mman . . .]”, after killing the latter,345 and in another that he brought Tammaritu (652–​649, 647 bc) into the city of Susa and “installed him as king.”346 However, while all this would seem to indicate that there was a royal palace at Susa within which the coronation ceremony for Ummanigaš

344. Parpola 2018: no. 117: l. 17′. 345. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 33. 346. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9: iii 70–​71; no. 11: v 21–​22.

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could take place (a fact confirmed also by Ashurbanipal’s statement that he entered Susa’s palaces),347 it cannot automatically be concluded that the royal palace at Susa was the only one in Elam, or even the most important one. If we further consider the fact that, even though the city has been extensively excavated, there are very few Neo-​Elamite royal inscriptions from Susa, the notion that Susa was the (sole) political center of the Elamite realm in the first half of the first millennium bc becomes questionable. In fact, reference is made more often to a large number of other “royal” cities, and at least for some periods, there is evidence that the seat of the Elamite ruler(s) was obviously not Susa, but another city called Madaktu, which has not yet been securely located.348 Assyrian inscriptions also demonstrate that (Neo-​)Elamite kings were able to retreat from one city to another when they expected trouble, implying that royal courts existed in multiple cities. Like many other aspects of Neo-​Elamite rule and culture, this may foreshadow later royal practices of the Persian Empire, and since it has been established that Elamites and “Persians” were closely connected at this time,349 this should perhaps come as no surprise. However, as long as it remains unclear exactly what happened in Elam before, during, and after the fall of Nineveh in 612 bc, it cannot be assumed that there was a direct, uninterrupted transition between Elam and the royal house of Cyrus II of Persia. Even if Elam was still a major power at the time, it might have lost its position as a result of the rising power of the Medes (­chapter 43 in this volume) or of the Neo-​ Babylonian Empire (­chapter 50 in volume 5).

347. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9: iv 71. 348. The city of Madaktu features as the seat of Kudur-​Nahundu (“Kutir-​Nahhunte II”; 693–​692 bc) in inscriptions of Sennacherib (Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 18: iv 1′′–​6′′), and as the seat of Ummanaldaš (“Huban-​haltaš III”; 648 and 646–​645 bc) in the annals of Ashurbanipal (Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 9: iii 62–​65). For literature on earlier attempts to localize Madaktu, see Potts 2016: 263. 349. See, e.g., Briant 1984: 92–​96; de Miroschedji 1990: 70; Henkelman 2003a; 2003b: 260; 2018; Álvarez-​Mon 2010: 2–​3, 271–​285; Tavernier 2018.

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As for the relationship between Elam and Babylonia, there are several sources that may provide some insight,350 but apart from the fact that relations were obviously amicable at the time of the accession of Nabopolassar (625–​605 bc) to the throne of Babylon,351 not much else can be securely stated. On the one hand, there may be evidence that, at some point in time, the Elamite kings were regarded as authorities in (parts of ) Babylonia.352 On the other hand, inscriptions in the name of Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon (604–​562 bc) found at Susa may indicate that the Babylonians controlled the region.353 Elam’s relationship with the Medes is still opaque, but since it is clear that the city of Anšan was no longer directly incorporated into the Elamite realm from the reign of Sennacherib of Assyria (704–​681 bc) onward,354 and was already united with Median territories like Namri in the coalition opposing Sennacherib’s forces (section 42.2.1), it is not beyond the realm of possibility to suggest that the inhabitants of this

350. Described in detail in Potts 2016: 283–​290. 351. According to an entry in one of the Babylonian chronicles, Nabopolassar restored the gods of Susa to Susa in the year of his accession: Grayson 1975: Chronicle 2: ll. 15–​17. 352. As of now, three Neo-​Babylonian texts are known that are dated to the reigns of a king named Hallušu (Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 60–​61) and one that is dated to the reign of a king named Tammaritu (Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 61). While Brinkman and Kennedy assigned these texts to kings who are known from other Mesopotamian sources (see fi ­ gure 42.2), this attribution has been questioned based on the observation that the mention of Hallušu’s fifteenth regnal year in one of the texts (presumedly from Nippur) does not match the statement in one of the Babylonian chronicles (Grayson 1975: Chronicle 1: iii 8) that Hallušu reigned only for a period of six years (Brinkman and Kennedy 1983: 61; Weisberg 1984; Stolper 1986: 239; Potts 2016: 260, with further literature). Recently, Tavernier 2017: 339 n. 11 and Gorris 2020: 35, 73–​80 dated the Hallušu documents to the reign of Hallutaš-​Inšušinak son of Huban-​tahra, whom they assigned to the late seventh/​early sixth century bc (see ­figure 42.4), but this is pure speculation. Likewise, it cannot be established securely to which ruler the document dated to King Tammaritu refers. 353. But note the comments in Potts 2016: 85–​87. 354. To think about Anšan as Elam’s “core region” (thus Liverani 2003: 10) is therefore rather misleading.

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region at some point accepted a Median rather than an Elamite ruler as their leader, which would thus match the testimony of the Greek sources. In conclusion, it is certainly not wrong to think about the beginnings of the Persian Empire as the logical continuation of an earlier state that was flexibly organized and allowed for a certain degree of regional autonomy. The question is, which one? The kingdom of Elam, although poorly attested and little understood, remains a possible candidate. R ef er en c es Alizadeh, A. 1985. A tomb of the Neo-​Elamite period at Arjan, near Behbahan. AMIT 18: 49–​73. Alizadeh, A. 2013. The problem of locating ancient Huhnuri in the Ram Hormuz region. NABU 2013: 65 (no. 37). Alizadeh, A. 2014. Ancient settlement systems and cultures in the Ram Hormuz plain, southwestern Iran: excavations at Tall-​e Geser and regional survey of the Ram Hormuz area. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Alizadeh, K. 2020. The earliest Persians in Iran: toponyms and Persian ethnicity. Dabir 7: 16–​53. Álvarez-​Mon, J. 2010. The Arjan tomb: at the crossroads of the Elamite and the Persian empires. Leuven: Peeters. Álvarez-​Mon, J. 2012. Elam: Iran’s first empire. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), A companion to the archaeology of the ancient Near East. Malden, MA: Wiley-​ Blackwell, 740–​757. Álvarez-​Mon, J. 2013. Elam in the Iron Age. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Iran. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 457–​477. Álvarez-​Mon, J. 2019. The monumental reliefs of the Elamite highlands: a complete inventory and analysis ( from the seventeenth to the sixth century BC). University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Álvarez-​Mon, J. 2020. The art of Elam, ca. 4200–​525 BC. London and New York: Routledge. Álvarez-​Mon, J., Basello, G.P., and Wicks, Y. (eds.) 2018. The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge. Álvarez-​Mon, J., and Garrison, M. (eds.) 2011. Elam and Persia. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Amiet, P. 1966. Élam. Auvers-​sur-​Oise: Archée.

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Amiet, P. 1967. Éléments émaillés du décor architectural néo-​élamite. Syria 44: 27–​46. Amiet, P. 1973. La glyptique de la fin de l’Elam. Arts Asiatiques 28: 3–​45. Badalyan, M., Basello, P., and Dan, R. 2019. The Elamite tablets from Armavir-​ Blur (Armenia): a re-​ examination. In Avetisyan, P.S., Dan, R., and Grekyan, Y.H. (eds.), Over the mountains and far away: studies in Near Eastern history and archaeology presented to Mirjo Salvini. Oxford: Archaeopress, 34–​45. Basello, G.P. 2011. Elamite as administrative language: from Susa to Persepolis. In Álvarez-​Mon, J., and Garrison, M. (eds.), Elam and Persia. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 61–​88. Basello, G.P. 2013. From Susa to Persepolis: the pseudo-​ sealing of the Persepolis bronze plaque. In De Graef, K., and Tavernier, J. (eds.), Susa and Elam: archaeological, philological, historical and geographical perspectives. Leiden: Brill, 249–​264. Basello, G.P., and Giovinazzo, G. 2018. Elamite administration. In Álvarez-​ Mon, J., Basello, G.P., and Wicks, Y. (eds.), The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge, 481–​504. Briant, P. 1984. La Perse avant l’empire (un état de la question). IrAnt 19: 71–​118. Brinkman, J.A. 1965. Elamite military aid to Merodach-​ Baladan. JNES 24: 161–​166. Brinkman, J.A. 1986. The Elamite-​Babylonian frontier in the Neo-​Elamite period, 750–​625 BC. In De Meyer, L., Gasehe, H., and Vallat, F. (eds.), Fragmentae historiae elamicae: melanges offerts à M.-​J. Steve. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 199–​207. Brinkman, J.A., and Kennedy, D.A. 1983. Documentary evidence for the economic base of Early Neo-​Babylonian society: a survey of dated Babylonian economic texts, 721–​626 BC. JCS 35: 1–​90. Cameron, G. 1936. History of early Iran. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Carter, E. 1996. Excavations at Anshan (Tal-​e Malyan): the Middle Elamite period. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Carter, E. 2007. Resisting empire: Elam in the first millennium BC. In Stone, E. (ed.), Settlement and society: essays dedicated to Robert McCormick Adams. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California, 139–​156.

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Henkelman, W.F.M. 2018. Elamite administrative and religious heritage in the Persian heartland. In Álvarez-​Mon, J., Basello, G.P., and Wicks, Y. (eds.), The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge, 803–​828. Hinz, W. 1962. Die elamischen Inschriften des Hanne. In Henning, W.B., and Yarshater, E. (eds.), A locust’s leg: studies in honour of S.H. Taqizadeh. London: Percy Lund, Humphries & Co., 105–​116. Hinz, W. 1964. Das Reich Elam. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Hinz, W. 1986. Zu den elamischen Briefen aus Ninive. In De Meyer, L., Gasche, H., and Vallat, F. (eds.), Fragmenta historiae Elamicae: mélanges offerts à M.-​J. Stève. Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 227–​234. Hinz, W. 1987. Elams Übergang ins Perserreich. In Gignoux, P. (ed.), Transition periods in Iranian history. Leuven: Peeters, 125–​134. Hinz, W., and Koch, H. 1987. Elamisches Wörterbuch. Berlin: Reimer. Ito, S. 2019. The problem of original letter, draft and copy. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Mattila, R., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Writing Neo-​Assyrian history: sources, problems, and approaches. Helsinki: The Neo-​ Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 247–​260. Jéquier, G. 1901. Appendice: description du site de Malamir. In Scheil, V. (ed.), Textes élamites-​anzanites, première série. Paris: E. Leroux, 133–​143. Jones, C. E., and Stolper, M.W. 2008. How many Persepolis Fortification Tablets are there? In Briant, P., Henkelman, W.F.M., and Stolper, M.W. (eds.), L’archive des Fortifications de Persépolis: état des questions et perspectives de recherches. Paris: De Boccard, 27–​50. Justeson, J.S., and Stephens, L.D. 1994. Variation and change in symbol systems: case studies in Elamite cuneiform. In Renfrew, C., and Zubrow, E.B.W. (eds.), The ancient mind: elements of cognitive archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 167–​175. Koch, H. 2006. Briefe aus Iran. In Janowski, B., and Wilhelm, G. (eds.), Briefe (Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments, Neue Folge 3). Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 349–​356. König, F.W. 1965. Die elamischen Königsinschriften. Graz: Selbstverlag F.W. König. Lambert, M. 1967. Appendice: Shutruk-​Nahunte et Shutur-​Nahunte. Syria 44: 47–​51. Lambert, M. 1972. Hutélutush-​Insushnak et le pays d’Anzan. RA 66: 61–​76.

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Liverani, M. 2003. The rise and fall of Media. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Roaf, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Continuity of Empire (?): Assyria, Media, Persia. Padua: s.a.r.g.o.n., 1–​12. Malbran-​Labat, F. 1995. Les inscriptions royales de Suse: briques de l’époque paléo-​élamite à l’Empire néo-​élamite. Paris: Éditions de la Réunion des musées nationaux. Malbran-​Labat, F. 2004. La version akkadienne de l’inscription trilingue de Darius à Behistun. Rome: Gruppo Editoriale Internazionale. Malbran-​Labat, F. 2013. Susa (Suse), A: philologisch. RlA 13: 347–​352. Mofidi Nasrabadi, B. 2005. Eine Steininschrift des Amar-​Suena aus Tappeh Bormi (Iran). ZA 95: 161–​171. Montagne, C., and Grillot-​Susini, F. 1996. Les inscriptions royales de Suse, Musée du Louvre (R.M.N., Paris, 1995), par Florence Malbran-​Labat. NABU 1996: 24–​25 (no. 33). Muscarella, O.W. 1992. Stele of Adda-​hamiti-​Inshushinak. In Harper, P.O., Aruz, J., and Tallon, F. (eds.), The royal city of Susa: ancient Near Eastern treasures in the Louvre. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 198–​199. Novotny, J., and Jeffers, J. 2018. The royal inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 BC), Aššur-​etel-​ilāni (630–​627 BC), and Sîn-​šarra-​iškun (626–​612 BC), kings of Assyria, part 1. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Nylander, C. 1999. Breaking the cup of kingship: an Elamite coup in Nineveh? IrAnt 34: 71–​83. Paper, H.H. 1954. Note préliminaire sur la date de trois tablettes élamites de Suse. In Ghirshman, R. (ed.), Village perse-​achéménide. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 79–​82. Paper, H.H. 1955. The phonology and morphology of royal Achaemenid Elamite. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Parpola, S. 2018. The correspondence of Assurbanipal, part 1: letters from Assyria, Babylonia, and vassal states. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Pézard, M. 1924. Reconstitution d’une stèle d’Adda-​ hamiti-​ In-​ Šušnak. Babyloniaca 8: 1–​27. Potts, D.T. 1999. The archaeology of Elam: formation and transformation of an ancient Iranian state. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Potts, D.T. 2010. Monarchy, factionalism and warlordism: reflections on Neo-​ Elamite courts. In Jacobs, B., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Der Achämenidenhof /​ The Achaemenid court. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 107–​137.

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Potts, D.T. (ed.) 2013. The Oxford handbook of ancient Iran. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Potts, D.T. 2016. The archaeology of Elam: formation and transformation of an ancient Iranian state. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2nd rev. ed. Potts, D.T. 2017. Elamite Karintaš and Avestan Kvirinta: notes on the early history of Kerend. Iranian Studies 50: 345–​367. Potts, D.T. 2018. The epithet “sister’s son” in ancient Elam: aspects of the avunculate in cross-​cultural perspective. In Kleber, K., Neumann, G., and Paulus, S. (eds.), Grenzüberschreitungen—​Studien zur Kulturgeschichte des Alten Orients: Festschrift für Hans Neumann. Münster: Zaphon, 523–​555. Radner, K. 2005. Die Macht des Namens: altorientalische Strategien zur Selbsterhaltung. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Reade, J. 1992. The Elamite tablets from Nineveh. NABU 1992: 87–​88 (no. 119). Reade, J. 2000. Elam after the Assyrian sack of Susa in 647 BC. NABU 2000: 89 (no. 80). Reade, J. 2001. Ninive (Nineveh). RlA 9: 388–​433. Reiner, E. 1963. Mâlamir. RA 57: 169–​174. Reiner, E. 1969. The Elamite language. In Friedrich, J. (ed.), Altkleinasiatische Sprachen. Leiden: Brill, 54–​118. Reiner, E. 1973. The location of Anšan. RA 67: 57–​62. Reiner, E. 1974. Tall-​i Malyan: epigraphic finds, 1971–​72. Iran 12: 176. Sayce, A.H. 1885. The inscriptions of Mal-​Amir and the language of the second column of the Akhæmenian inscriptions. Leiden: Brill. Schachner, A. (ed.) 2009. Assyriens Könige an einer der Quellen des Tigris: archäologische Forschungen im Höhlensystem von Bırkleyn und am sogenannten Tigris-​Tunnel. Tübingen: Wasmuth. Scheil, V. 1900. Textes élamites-​sémitiques, première série. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Scheil, V. 1904. Textes élamites-​anzanites, deuxième série. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Scheil, V. 1907. Textes élamites-​anzanites, troisième série. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Scheil, V. 1908. Textes élamites-​sémitiques, quatrième série. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Scheil, V. 1911. Textes élamites-​anzanites, quatrième série. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Schmidt, E.F. 1957. Persepolis, II: contents of the treasury and other discoveries. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Seidl, U. 1986. Die elamischen Felsreliefs von Kūrāngūn und Naqš-​e Rustam. Berlin: Reimer. Seidl, U. 1997. Izeh. In Meyers, E.M. (ed.), The Oxford encyclopedia of archaeology in the Near East, vol. 3. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 199–​203.

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Shishegar, A. 2015. Tomb of the two Elamite princesses of the house of King Shutur-​Nahunte son of Indada: Neo-​Elamite period, phase IIIB (ca. 585–​539 BC). Tehran: Pazhuheshgah-​e Sazman-​e Miras-​e Farhangi (in Farsi). Steve, M.-​J. 1986. La fin de l’Elam: à propos d’une empreinte de sceau-​cylindre. Studia Iranica 15: 7–​21. Steve, M.-​J. 1987. Nouveaux mélanges épigraphiques: inscriptions royales de Suse et de la Susiane. Nice: Éditions Serre. Steve, M.-​J. 1988. Le déterminatif masculin BE en néo-​élamite et élamite-​ achéménide. NABU 1988: 23–​24 (no. 35). Steve, M.-​ J. 1992. Syllabaire élamite: histoire et paléographie. Neuchâtel: Recherches et Publications. Steve, M.-​J., Vallat, F., and Gasche, H. 2002–​2003. Suse A–​F. In Briend, J., and Quesnel, M. (eds.), Supplément au dictionnaire de la Bible, 73: Sumer–​ Suse. Paris: Letouzey & Ané, 359–​512. Stolper, M.W. 1984. Texts from Tall-​i Malyan, I: Elamite administrative texts (1972–​1974). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Stolper, M.W. 1986. A Neo-​Babylonian text from the reign of Ḫallušu. In De Meyer, L., Gasche, H., and Vallat, F. (eds.), Fragmentae historiae elamicae: melanges offerts à M.-​J. Steve. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 235–​241. Stolper, M.W. 1990. Mālamīr, B: philologisch. RlA 7: 276–​281. Stolper, M.W. 1992a. Cuneiform texts from Susa. In Harper, P.O., Aruz, J., and Tallon, F. (eds.), The royal city of Susa: ancient Near Eastern treasures in the Louvre. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 256–​260, 267–​269. Stolper, M.W. 1992b. Stele of Adda-​hamiti-​Inshushinak: the inscription. In Harper, P.O., Aruz, J., and Tallon, F. (eds.), The royal city of Susa: ancient Near Eastern treasures in the Louvre. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 199. Stolper, M.W. 2004. Elamite. In Woodard, R.D. (ed.), The Cambridge encyclopedia of the world’s ancient languages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 60–​94. Stolper, M.W. 2013. Sugirs of Anšan. In De Graef, K., and Tavernier, J. (eds.), Susa and Elam: archaeological, philological, historical and geographical perspectives. Leiden: Brill, 399–​416. Stronach, D. 2003. The tomb at Arjan and the history of southwestern Iran in the early sixth century BCE. In Miller, N.F., and Abdi, K. (eds.), Yeki

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bud, yeki nabud: essays on the archaeology of Iran in honor of William M. Sumner. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California, 249–​259. Sumner, W.M. 1990. Maljan, Tall-​e (Anšan). RlA 7: 306–​320. Sumner, W.M. 2003. Early urban life in the land of Anshan: excavations at Tal-​ e Malyan in the highlands of Iran. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Tadmor, H., and Yamada, S. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 BC), and Shalmaneser V (726–​722 BC), kings of Assyria. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Tavernier, J. 2002. Iranian presence in Neo-​Elamite Susa. NABU 2002: 77–​78 (no. 79). Tavernier, J. 2004. Some thoughts on Neo-​ Elamite chronology. ARTA 2004.003. Retrieved from http://​www.acheme​net.com/​pdf/​arta/​ 2004.003-​Tavern​ier.pdf (last accessed October 31, 2021). Tavernier, J. 2006. Elam: Neo-​Elamite period (ca. 1000–​530 B.C.). In Eder, W., and Renger, J. (eds.), Chronologies of the ancient world: names, dates and dynasties. Leiden: Brill, 22–​24. Tavernier, J. 2007. Iranica in the Achaemenid period (ca. 550–​330 BC): lexicon of Old Iranian proper names and loanwords, attested in non-​Iranian texts. Leuven: Peeters. Tavernier, J. 2011a. Élamite: analyse grammaticale et lecture de textes. Res Antiquae 8: 315–​350. Tavernier, J. 2011b. Iranians in Neo-​Elamite texts. In Álvarez-​Mon, J., and Garrison, M. (eds.), Elam and Persia. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 191–​261. Tavernier, J. 2014. What’s in a name: Hallušu, Hallutaš or Hallutuš? RA 108: 61–​66. Tavernier, J. 2017. The uses of languages on the various levels of administration in the Achaemenid empire. In Jacobs, B., Henkelman, W.F.M., and Stolper, M.W. (eds.), Die Verwaltung im Achämenidenreich: imperiale Muster und Strukturen /​Administration in the Achaemenid Empire: tracing the imperial signature. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 337–​412. Tavernier, J. 2018. Elamites and Iranians. In Álvarez-​Mon, J., Basello, G.P., and Wicks, Y. (eds.), The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge, 163–​174. Tavernier, J. 2020. Elamite. In Hasselbach, R. (ed.), A companion to ancient Near Eastern languages. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-​Blackwell, 163–​185.

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Vallat, F. 1984. Kidin-​Hutran et l’époque néo-​élamite. Akkadica 37: 1–​17. Vallat, F. 1988. À propos de l’origine des tablettes élamites dites ‘de Ninive’ conservées au British Museum. NABU 1988: 26–​27 (no. 39). Vallat, F. 1993. Les noms géographiques des sources suso-​ élamites. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Vallat, F. 1995a. Épopée de Gilgameš ou tablette économique de Persépolis? Ni l’un, ni l’autre! NABU 1995: 39 (no. 46). Vallat, F. 1995b. Šutruk-​Nahunte, Šutur-​Nahunte et l’imbroglio néo-​élamite. NABU 1995: 37–​38 (no. 44). Vallat, F. 1996a. Nouvelle analyse des inscriptions néo-​élamites. In Gasche, H., and Hrouda, B. (eds.), Collectanea Orientalia—​ histoire, arts de l’espace et industrie de la terre: études offertes en hommage à Agnès Spycket. Neuchâtel: Recherches et Publications, 385–​395. Vallat, F. 1996b. Le retour de Hutelutuš-​Insušnak à Suse. NABU 1996: 78–​79 (no. 88). Vallat, F. 1996c. Le royaume élamite de SAMATI. NABU 1996: 21–​22 (no. 31). Vallat, F. 1997. La lettre élamite d’Arménie. ZA 87: 258–​270. Vallat, F. 1998a. Le royaume élamite de Zamin et les ‘Lettres de Ninive’. IrAnt 33: 95–​106. Vallat, F. 1998b. Elam, I: the history of Elam. Encyclopaedia Iranica VIII/​ 3: 301–​312. Retrieved from http://​www.iranic​aonl​ine.org/​artic​les/​elam-​i (last accessed October 31, 2021). Vallat, F. 2002. Les prétendus fonctionnaires unsak des textes néo-​élamites et achéménides. ARTA 2002.006. Retrieved from http://​www.acheme​net. com/​res​sour​ces/​enli​gne/​arta/​pdf/​2002.006.pdf (last accessed October 31, 2021). Vallat, F. 2006. Atta-​hamiti-​Inšušinak, Šutur-​Nahhunte et la chronologie néo-​ élamite. Akkadica 127: 59–​62. Vallat, F. 2011. Textes historiques élamites et achéménides. In George, A. (ed.), Cuneiform royal inscriptions and related texts in the Schøyen Collection. Bethesda, MA: CDL Press, 187–​192. Van Buylaere, G. 2016. Neo-​Elamite Hara(n) and its (non)relation with Biblical Hara and URU.HAR(.KI), Dur-​Abi-​Hara and Hara’ in Neo-​ Assyrian and Neo-​Babylonian sources. WdO 46: 134–​151. Van Buylaere, G. 2018. Tracing the Neo-​Elamite kingdom of Zamin in Neo-​ Assyrian and Neo-​Babylonian sources. In Yamada, S. (ed.), Neo-​Assyrian

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sources in context: thematic studies of texts, history, and culture. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 51–​67. Walker, C.B. 1980. Elamite inscriptions in the British Museum. Iran 18: 75–​81. Waters, M. 2000. A survey of Neo-​Elamite history. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Waters, M. 2004. Cyrus and the Achaemenids. Iran 42: 91–​102. Waters, M. 2013. Elam, Assyria and Babylonia in the early first millennium BC. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Iran. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 478–​492. Weisberg, D.B. 1984. The length of the reign of Ḫallušu-​Inšušinak. JAOS 104: 213–​217. Weißbach, F.H. 1902. Susische Thontäfelchen. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Wicks, Y. 2017. Late Neo-​Elamite ceremonial (?) “rings.” Elamica 7: 149–​173. Wicks, Y. 2019. Profiling death: Neo-​Elamite mortuary practices, afterlife beliefs, and entanglements with ancestors. Leiden: Brill. Wright, H., and Carter, E. 2003. Archaeological survey on the western Ram Hormuz Plain, 1969. In Miller, N.F., and Abdi, K. (eds.), Yeki bud, yeki nabud: essays on the archaeology of Iran in honor of William M. Sumner. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California, 61–​82. Yusifov, Y.B. 1963. Еламские чозяйственные документы из Суз. VDI 85: 199–​261. Zadok, R. 1984. On some non-​Semitic names in the ancient Near East. Beiträge zur Namenforschung 19: 385–​389. Zadok, R. 2011. The Babylonia–​Elam connections in the Chaldaean and Achaemenid periods (part one). Tel Aviv 38: 120–​143. Zadok, R. 2013. Linguistic groups in Iran. In Potts, D.T. (ed.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Iran. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 407–​422. Zadok, R. 2018. The peoples of Elam. In Álvarez-​Mon, J., Basello, G.P., and Wicks, Y. (eds.), The Elamite world. London and New York: Routledge, 146–​162. Zournatzi, A. 2019. Cyrus the Great as a “king of the city of Anshan.” Tekmeria 14: 149–​180.

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The Medes and the Kingdom of Mannea Andreas Fuchs

43.1. Introduction From the third millennium bc onward, people from northwestern Iran are mentioned in Mesopotamian sources. Among the many different ethnic and linguistic groups who inhabited the Iranian Plateau (figure 43.1a, b) from the ninth to seventh century bc, two stand out in the contemporary sources: the Medes and the Manneans. Inhabiting a vast area bordering the Alborz Mountains and the Great Salt Desert, the Medes typically found themselves victims of the encroaching Assyrian Empire until the late seventh century bc, when the situation was suddenly reversed (section 43.2). The history of the Medes will be enjoyed by all who have ever contemplated an alternate history of the Old West that ended with total victory by the Native Americans. In the region south of Lake Urmia, the kingdom of Mannea tried to make the best of its unenviable position between two highly aggressive neighbors, Assyria and Urartu. The history of the Manneans is shaped by a long fight for survival that came to a sudden end from an unexpected direction (section 43.3). Once the Medes and the Manneans were joined in northwestern Iran by bands of Cimmerian and Scythian raiders from the late eighth Andreas Fuchs, The Medes and the Kingdom of Mannea In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0043

Figure 43.1a.  Sites mentioned in c­ hapter 43: the dashed line indicates the route of the Great Khorasan Road, and modern toponyms are set in italics. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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century bc onward, the volatility of the local political order increased even further.

43.2.  The Medes In the early first millennium bc, Iran was inhabited by a number of different peoples with strange names, speaking many different languages, most of which can no longer be identified. The Medes, however, were part of a larger group of people speaking Indo-​Iranian or Old Iranian languages, who had arrived in Iran in the second half of the second millennium or, at the latest, in the early first millennium bc. The Medes left no written sources of their own, and the only surviving traces of their language are a number of names and some loanwords which found their way into the records of their neighbors and contemporaries, first the Assyrians, later the Persians and the Greeks.1 For this reason, nothing is known about the Medes (or Madāya, as the Assyrians called them) prior to their contact with Assyria, and the impressions we get are the biased views of Assyrian scribes who did not understand the Median language and whose interest in such strange and “uncivilized” people was limited at best. The Zagros Mountains and the Iranian Plateau were politically fragmented in the extreme. The Assyrian sources of the eighth and seventh centuries bc tell of a bewildering number of kings and chieftains who ruled areas of different sizes, most of which seem to have been very small. In referring to the Median rulers, the Assyrian texts use the title bēl āli, a standard term for all petty rulers who were not important enough to be called kings. The usual translation, “city lord,” is formally correct but misleading in view of the complete absence of larger settlements in Median territory. For this reason, bēl āli is translated as “chief ” or “chieftain” in this chapter. The names of these rulers, as well as those of their lands, are as strange to us today as they were to the ears of the Assyrian scribes who desperately tried to cope with sounds their script could not

1. Schmitt 2003.

Figure 43.1b.  Detail map.

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reproduce adequately. In the inscriptions of Assyrian kings, in letters and other sources, the remote world of western Iran left a sample of peculiar, totally unfamiliar names of persons, places, mountains, and rivers calling forth a different world, if not another planet. Due to Iran’s long and eventful history, topographical names underwent radical changes and of all the many settlements, mountains, or rivers mentioned by the Assyrians as being in Media, not a single one can be located with certainty. Accordingly, Media as such defies clear definition, and the outer limits of Media can be only defined by its neighboring areas, the exact positions of which are themselves every bit as unclear. Combining the evidence from the Assyrian sources of the ninth, eighth, and seventh centuries bc, the following surrounding areas can be identified:2 • In the northwest, the lands of Messi and Gizilbunda separated Media from the Mannean lands, with Parsua, Bit-​Kapsi, and Bit-​Abdadani as western neighbors. • In the southwest, the mountain range of Silhazi, the so-​called Fortress of the Babylonian, a significant landmark which can perhaps be identified with the Elvand mountain range, was an obstacle separating Media from its southwestern neighbors, namely the city of Kišesim and the city of Harhar. The latter was the starting point of the most important road that connected Media via Bit-​Hamban and Namri with the Mesopotamian lowlands. The modern highway between Hamadan, Kermanshah, and Qasr-​e Shirin follows this road in part. • Media’s southern neighbor was the kingdom of Ellipi in western Luristan, which had access to Media probably via the region of modern Borujerd. • The extent of Media to the southeast is unclear, but the area around modern Isfahan seems to have been included.

2. Note that some areas, which are treated here as regions neighboring those occupied by the Medes, are seen as parts of the Median lands by Zadok 2001 and Radner 2003.

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• In the east, Media bordered on the “House of Salt” (bīt ṭabti), which should surely be identified with the Dasht-​e Kavir, the Great Salt Desert. • The northeastern neighbors of the Medes are called the “Arabs of the East,” and probably are the Haraiva, or people of Aria, mentioned much later in Persian and Greek sources (­chapter 62 in volume 5). The northern or northeastern landmark of Media was Mount Bikni, probably to be identified with Mount Damavand near modern Tehran. For the Assyrians, this was the most impressive mountain peak by far in western Iran. Seen always from a distance and never reached by an Assyrian army, Mount Bikni was sometimes even identified as one of the four corners of the known world.3 • The Alborz mountain range, to which Mount Damavand belongs, probably marked Media’s northern boundary. In all, the Median lands corresponded approximately to the modern Iranian provinces of Qazvin, Alborz, Tehran, Markazi, and Qom, parts of Zanjan, Hamadan, and probably Isfahan.

43.2.1.  First contacts between the Assyrian Empire and the Medes From the Assyrian perspective, the Medes were a strange people living somewhere beyond the eastern fringes of the civilized world. Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) was the first Assyrian king who made serious efforts to extend the power of his kingdom beyond the reaches of northern Mesopotamia proper, and he was the first Assyrian king to reach the Iranian Plateau. Several times, namely in 843, 827, and 826 bc, his army operated in the immediate neighborhood of the Median territories: in Parsua, Bit-​Abdadani (or simply Abdadani), and Bit-​Hamban (or simply

3. Fuchs 1994: 392–​395.

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Hamban); but in the reports on these campaigns in his inscriptions, the Medes are not even mentioned.4 Only once, in 834, did Shalmaneser sally forth from Parsua in order to attack four settlements in the regions of “Messi, Amadaya, Araziaš and Harhar.”5 Among these, Amadaya can be easily identified as Media, and from later sources Mes(s)i is known to be another adjacent region to the west. Araziaš, later a Median chiefdom, was a close neighbor of Harhar, itself a non-​Median city and perhaps the most important settlement on the Iranian Plateau. Shalmaneser’s attack was, however, a mere side show without any consequences. Media was not the focus of Shalmaneser’s attention. The reason Assyrian kings were interested in the Iranian highlands at all was their need for horses to supply the chariots and cavalry of their armed forces.6 For most of the ninth century bc, the Assyrians found what they needed in the Zagros Mountains, in areas that were much closer to the Assyrian heartland and more accessible than distant Media.

43.2.2.  Craving horses: the Assyrian Empire’s forays into Median territory However, the situation changed dramatically when Shalmaneser’s sons contested the throne between 826 and 820 bc. The kingdom of Urartu took advantage of the lasting Assyrian paralysis and expanded into the region south of Lake Urmia, thus cutting off Assyria’s most convenient connection with central Iran. Immediately after securing the throne, Šamši-​Adad V (823–​811 bc) counterattacked but failed to make any headway against the heavily fortified Urartian positions (­chapter 44 in this volume). For the Assyrians, who had no choice but to accept this fait accompli, the result was an urgent need to establish new and more 4. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: iii 58−iv 25; A.0.102.14: ll. 159–​190; A.0.102.16: ll. 291′–​341′. 5. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.120−125. 6. On the connection between the Assyrian Empire’s forays into Iran and the army’s need for horses, see, e.g., Radner 2003: 42–​43.

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reliable access routes connecting Assyria with horse-​breeding areas as far from Urartian interference as possible. This was bad news for the Medes, whose wealth of horses now began to attract Assyria’s attention. In his third official campaign, in 819 or 818 bc, Šamši-​Adad V marched deep into western Iran in an effort to solve his horse problem.7 Moving via Mesa, Gilzilbunda, Mataya (Media), and Araziaš, he followed the route used in 834 bc by Shalmaneser III. This time, however, Assyrian forces encountered and fought a king called Hanaṣiruka in Media (Mataya). They allegedly killed 2,300 of his warriors as well as 140 of his cavalrymen, and Šamši-​Adad’s inscription claims that Hanaṣiruka’s royal city of Sagbita was destroyed, along with 1,200 other settlements.8 In light of descriptions of later campaigns in this area, these numbers seem exaggerated. Hanaṣiruka fared better than his neighbors: the king of Gizilbunda lost 6,000 of his men and was taken prisoner, along with 1,200 of his surviving warriors, and the ruler of Araziaš was killed together with 1,070 of his warriors. Hanaṣiruka not only survived the assault, he also did not submit to the king of Assyria and apparently had no booty taken from his land, at least according to the account in Šamši-​Adad’s inscription. Hanaṣiruka was the first Mede whose name is recorded in writing, and he was the only one to be called “king” by Assyrian sources, perhaps in an effort to embellish what had only been, at best, a trivial victory. Only a tiny part of the Median territories was affected by Šamši-​ Adad’s foray, but this was just the first of a series of repeated Assyrian attempts to exert control over the horse breeders of western Iran. Between 810 and 766 bc, at least seven and possibly as many as nine Assyrian campaigns were directed against Media, climaxing in the years 793–​787 bc when Nergal-​ila’i, the commander-​in-​chief (turtānu) of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc), led no fewer than five expeditions eastward. He even left an inscription on a stone brought back from Media as

7. A report of this third campaign can be found in the inscription of Šamši-​Adad V’s stele from the Nabû temple in Kalhu (modern Nimrud): Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: ii 34−iii 70. 8. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: iii 27–​36.

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a souvenir.9 However, since campaigns “against Mannea” (807, 806, and possibly also 800 and/​or 799 bc), “against Namri” (797, 774 bc), and “against Hubuškia” (801, 791, 785, 784) often included attacks against the Medes on the side, there may have been up to seventeen Assyrian incursions between 810 and 763 bc.10 None of these operations is described in detail, but any political benefits that may have been achieved were lost during the crisis years of 763–​ 745 bc, when the Assyrian Empire was once again paralyzed by internal strife. During these troublesome years, two campaigns “against Namri” (749 and 748 bc) are recorded, but none against Media.11

43.2.3.  Assyrian presence established at last Up to this point, Assyrian efforts had not brought about the desired result, and the problem of horse supply from the Iranian Plateau persisted. When Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc) brought Assyria’s internal conflicts to an end in 745 bc, after claiming the throne for himself, he was forced to start all over again. However, unlike his predecessors, his approach was more systematic and was aimed at gaining direct control over the most important lines of communication in western Iran. In 744 bc, Tiglath-​pileser marched into Iran, via Parsua, Gizilbunda, Bit-​Abdadani, Araziaš, and Harhar, roughly the same route used in the campaigns of 834 and 819 bc.12 To secure the safety of their territory, a number of Medes sent tribute, but the Median territories as such were 9. For Nergal-​ila’i’s souvenir, cf. George 1979: 134 no. 47. 10. For these campaigns, see the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle, edited in Millard 1994: 32–​40. Campaigns “against Media” are recorded for the years 809, 793, 792, 789, 788, 787, and 766 bc. In 800 and 799 BC, either Media or Mannea was targeted. Note also the campaigns “against Mannea” (in 807 and 806, and perhaps also in 800 and/​or 799 bc), “against Namri” (in 797 and 774 bc), and “against Hubuškia” (in 801, 791, 785, and 784 bc). 11. For these campaigns, see again the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle: Millard 1994: 42–​43. 12. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 6: ll. 7–​12; no. 8.

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not even touched. In the course of this campaign, however, the Assyrian king established two new provinces, expanding the permanent Assyrian presence much further onto the Iranian Plateau. To the east of the Assyrian province of Zamua (or Mazamua, established by 843 bc at the latest), centered on the Shahrizor Plain,13 Tiglath-​pileser created the new province of Parsua, while the province of Namri (established probably in the 790s bc) bordered directly onto the newly established province of Bit-​Hamban, and the Assyrian overland route connecting the Median territories with the Mesopotamian lowlands now reached as far as the important city of Harhar on the Iranian Plateau.14 In 738 bc, Tiglath-​pileser sent an army detachment commanded by one of his governors against “the mighty Medes in the east” in the area beyond the mountain range called “Fortress of the Babylonian” (probably corresponding to Mount Alvand). The operation was a complete success. The Assyrians captured a settlement called Mulugani and took “5,000 horses, people, oxen, sheep and goats.”15 The sequence of this list leaves no doubt about Assyria’s priorities. The following year, in 737 bc, the king himself invaded Media once again, approaching via the usual route through Ṣibar in Gizilbunda, as the itinerary makes clear.

Itinerary 1 (737 bc) 1. In Media proper, the Assyrians attacked “Ariarmi, the land of roosters,” where they left a rock inscription. 2. After that, Tiglath-​pileser III defeated three chieftains, probably including Uparia and Bustus.16 Chief Yabittarru (the name of his chiefdom is not preserved) and his surviving warriors were pursued 13. On the annexation and integration of the territories that then constituted the province of Zamua (or Mazamua), see Altaweel et al. 2012: 12–​14; Yamada 2020. 14. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: i 9′–​11′; on the creation of the provinces of Parsua and Bit-​Hamban, see Radner 2003: 44, 57 with Table 4; 2013: 443–​444. 15. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 13: ll. 18–​20; no. 41: ll. 13′–​15. 16. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 41: l. 8; no. 47: l. 31.

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to the region of “Amate near Mount Rua” (cf. Itinerary 2 of 716 bc, stage 8). 3. The fleeing inhabitants of Karzibra were captured before they reached the safety of the mountains. 4. The people of Bit-​Sagbat took refuge in the mountain range of “Silhazi, which is also called the fortress of the Babylonian,” but were defeated and plundered nevertheless. Here, Tiglath-​pileser left another rock inscription.17 The king now claimed to have received tribute from “the chieftains of all of the mountain regions, as far as Mount Bikni, [ . . . ] horses, mules, Bactrian [camels, oxen, and sheep and goats, without number],”18 and to have subjugated “all the districts of the mighty Medes” from “Silhazi, which they call the Fortress of the Babylonian, (and) Mount Ruw(a) up to the House of Salt, [including?] Ušqaqqana [and] golden Mount Šikrakki.”19 The (incomplete) list in table 43.1 is unique in providing the numbers of horses paid as tribute by individual western Iranian rulers. Not all of those mentioned were Medes.20 Excluding the 300 horses of Bardada of Ṣibar, who was not a Median chieftain but the most powerful ruler in Gizilbunda, a region northwest of Media, the tribute of an average chieftain amounted to about 100 horses. Thus, the chieftain Šatašpa of Šaparda, who paid twice that number, must have been exceptionally rich.21 It has to be kept in mind, however, that in 737 bc the overwhelming majority of Median chieftains were still independent.

17. The campaign is described in Tadmor and Yamada 2011: nos. 15–​17; see also no. 47: obv. 37–​38. 18. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 17: ll. 9–​10; no. 47: ll. 38–​39. 19. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: obv. 31–​32. 20. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: ii 30′–​44′. 21. Coincidentally, the name Šatašpa can be translated as “Hundred horses”: Schmitt 2009a: no. 128.

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Table 43.1  Tribute-​Paying Iranian Chiefs in 737 bc Horses Chiefdom

Chief

Median?

1

130+​

Bit-​Ištar

(not mentioned)

Perhaps part of Parsua

2

120

Ginizinanu Sadbat Sisad . . .

(not mentioned)

?

3

100

Bit-​Kapsi

Upaš

No

4

100

Nikisi

Ušru

?

5

100

Qarkinšera

Uksatar

?

6

100

A...

Yautair

?

7

300

Ṣibar

Bardada

No: part of Gizilbunda

8

33

Kitku . . .

Amaku

?

9

32

Uparia

Šataqupi

Yes: Table 43.3, no. 18

10

100

Kazuqinzani

Ramataya

?

11

100

Uparia

Mitraku

Yes: Table 43.3, no. 18

12

200

Šaparda

Šatašpa

Yes: Table 43.3, no. 10

13

100

Mišita

Uitana

?

14

100

Uizak . . .

Ametana

?

15

[...]

Urba . . .

[ . . . ]parnu

?

16

[...]

Sikra (=​Sikris?) [ . . . ]ba

Yes: Table 43.3, no. 12

17

[...]

Zakrute

[ . . . ]ia

Yes: Table 43.3, no. 9

18

[...]

. . . aku . . .

[...]

?

Tiglath-​ pileser III’s achievements satisfied Assyria’s demand for horses for about one generation. Twenty years later, Sargon II (721–​705 bc) resumed efforts to strengthen the Assyrian Empire’s grip on western Iran even further. This renewed advance was a highly concentrated affair, accomplished in just four years from 716 to 713 bc, during which time

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the Median lands were invaded no fewer than three times. Since Sargon’s inscriptions are very explicit about his military enterprises, they provide more information about Media during these four years than from any other period, before or after. Already in 716 bc, during his first campaign against Media, Sargon set up a stele bearing an inscription composed during or immediately after the campaign. Fortunately, the stele (figure 43.2), which provides us with exceptional details of not only the military operations as such, but also of Media’s topographical and political landscape, survived and was found in 1965 in the village of Najafabad, north of Kangavar.22 As a rule, Media was never the sole target of any Assyrian campaign. With no effective resistance to be expected in that area, Median matters could well be handled after more serious challenges had been dealt with elsewhere. In 716 bc, Sargon appeared in Media after he had put in order more pressing affairs in Mannea. With only part of the campaign season thus left, his moves within Media proper must have been made with considerable speed.23 In the following itinerary, the toponyms in bold characters mark those places where the Assyrian forces pitched camp.

Itinerary 2 (716 bc) 1. On the outer edge of Media, Sargon captured Kišesim and Harhar, two cities closely connected with Babylonian culture. They were not inhabited by Medes, but each was surrounded by several Median chiefdoms.24 2. Setting out from Harhar, the army crossed a stream of “cold water” and arrived in Zakrute, which was part of Media; the events are not preserved in the fragmentary text.

22. Frame 2021: no. 117 (edited in collaboration with Andreas Fuchs); for the location, see Alibaigi et al. 2017. 23. Frame 2021: no. 117: ii 41–​69. 24. For details and names, see Table 43.2.

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Figure 43.2.  Obverse of Sargon II’s stele found at Najafabad, which commemorates this king’s campaign into Media in 716 bc. National Museum of Tehran, inventory no. 5544/​21110. Photograph © Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto.

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3. In the next stage, in Kurabli, a number of chiefs, Daiku of Šaparda and . . . [ . . . ] paid tribute. 4. In Sikris, the Assyrians pursued the fleeing inhabitants of [ . . . ], Igali, Sikris, and Bit-​Uargi to Abra, destroyed settlements, and carried off livestock. 5. The next stage was Arussa, but the relation of events there is not preserved in the fragmentary text. 6. Crossing two more streams, the Assyrians reached Ukuta, where they burned, pillaged, and plundered the grain that had just been harvested. The inhabitants, however, seem to have fled in time to save themselves. 7. After a difficult crossing of Mount Arusaka, the Assyrians fell upon the settlements of Anzakne. Deeply impressed or intimidated, chieftain Karakku of Uriaka submitted. 8. Moving through the pass leading to Upuria between Mount Pattaššun and Mount Darue,25 a base camp was set up at the foot of Mount Uab[ . . . ]. Attacks by Assyrian raiding parties composed of cavalry and bowmen against the steppe region of Bustus resulted in the submission of several chieftains, namely [ . . . ] of Upuria, Mašdakku of Aratišta, Ušra of Kanzabkani, and Razištu (or perhaps Razidatu) of Bustus. However, the latter immediately broke the agreement and fled and, as a consequence, the settlements of Bustus were leveled to the ground. Afterwards the Assyrian forces met with no further resistance. Wherever they appeared, the chieftains hurried to pay them off with horses, namely in: 9. Datumbu: Ušra of Kanzabkani; 10. Karzinu: [. . . of . . .]; 11. Birnakan: Satarbanu of Barikanu and Uppa. . . of [ . . . ]; 12. Saka: Zardukka of Harzianu, Ištesukka of Kayatani, and Kir. . . of [ . . . ]; 13. Ramanda, located beyond a river called Darue:26 Šitaqupa of [ . . . ]; 25. There is presumably a connection with the river Darue in Itinerary 2, stage 13, and Mount Rua in Itinerary 1 of 737 bc, stage 2. 26. There is presumably a connection with Mount Darue in Itinerary 2, stage 8.

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14. Irnisa: Šidiraššura of Irnisa and Battigur? of [ . . . ]. An Assyrian raid beyond Media’s northwestern border, against Gizilbunda, caused even Uardatti, the powerful ruler of Ṣibar, to come to Irnisa in order to submit to Sargon. 15. The last stage within the Median lands was in Uratas, where the Assyrian king received horses from another five chieftains: Azamada of U. . . , [ . . . ] of Hagabta, Burbuasu of Uratista, Šummušra of Qarkasia, Burbuazu of Ginkir, and Bu. . . tanu of Rur. . . . 16. The Assyrian forces left the Median territories for Kisasi, probably the fortress of Kišesim. Here, the king set up the stele found at Najafabad and had it inscribed with a detailed report (on which this itinerary of the campaign is based). Despite the detail and length of this itinerary, we must keep in mind that only some parts of Media were affected by Sargon’s campaign. It is still not possible to reconstruct the exact route followed by the Assyrian forces on a modern map. The bewildering mass of names of regions, rivers, settlements, and local rulers must have been every bit as strange and complicated for the Assyrians as it is for the modern reader and gives us some idea of Media’s extreme political fragmentation. The land was crisscrossed by streams and difficult mountain ranges which divided areas under cultivation (Itinerary 2, stage 6) from steppe regions (stage 8). If Hagabta (stage 15) was identical with the place later known as Agamtanu/​Ecbatana, this would be the earliest mention of modern Hamadan. The establishment of Kišesim and Harhar as permanent Assyrian strongholds at the very threshold of the lands of the Medes opened a new chapter in the Assyrian Empire’s relations with the inhabitants of the Iranian Plateau. Both of these fortresses later became centers of provinces which bore their names, and whose governors, supported by strong garrisons, kept close watch on the Median chieftains and meddled in their affairs. Harhar, the more important of the two, became the principal Assyrian center in western Iran. Sargon changed the names of his new fortresses. Harhar’s new name was Kar-​Šarrukin, while Kišesim became Kar-​Nergal, meaning “Trading post of Sargon” and “Trading post of (the

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god) Nergal,” respectively.27 The new names did not stick, as even their Assyrian governors continued to use the fortresses’ ancient names, but they are clear evidence of Assyrian expectations. Beyond purely military functions, the new bases were meant to serve as trading posts and toll stations for the Assyrian Empire’s trade with Media and probably with lands further east. Goods like lapis lazuli and bronze are mentioned occasionally, but Assyria’s main interest in the region certainly continued to be the acquisition of horses and mules. While it was easy to defeat the Median chieftains on the battlefield, it was difficult to keep them permanently under control. In 715 bc a rebellion in Nartu, the region dominated by the Assyrian-​held fortress of Harhar, had to be crushed. When Sargon found out that the rebels had been supported by the Median chieftains of Uriqatu, Šaparda, Sikris, and Upuria, some of whom had submitted to him only a year before, he invaded the Median lands once again. In the course of a bloody show of strength, which the Assyrian scribes who composed the royal inscriptions did not consider worth describing in detail, 4,000 people were killed and almost 5,000 more deported to the Assyrian territories, including the city of Assur.28 Sargon received tribute from twenty-​two chieftains. The principal Assyrian center of Harhar was reinforced and surrounded by additional fortresses.29 The local rulers seem to have learned their lesson. In 714 bc, at the mere threat of another invasion and with the horrors of the previous year still fresh in their minds, the chieftains, anxious to deliver their horses in time, met the king before he had even set foot on Median soil. This time, however, it was a false alarm: Sargon’s move toward Media was just a feint intended to deceive the Urartian forces, Sargon’s real target that year.30

27. Frame 2021: no. 82: iii 5–​21; no. 73: A 3′–​5′; on the creation of the provinces of Harhar/​Kar-​Šarrukin and Kišesim/​Kar-​Nergal, see Radner 2003: 50, 57 with Table 4; 2013: 444–​447, 449–​451. See Table 43.3. 28. On the western Iranian deportees settled in Assur, see Radner 2013: 448–​449. 29. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 109–​116. 30. Fuchs 2018. See also ­chapter 44 in this volume.

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In 713 bc, however, just when things seemed to have calmed down in the region, another full-​scale invasion unfolded. Initially, Sargon stabilized the dangerously weakened position of one of his non-​Median allies, Dalta, the king of Ellipi, which was located in the modern Iranian province of Luristan. Afterwards, however, he used the opportunity to fall upon the lands of the Medes from an entirely unexpected direction. It is a pity that the inscriptions provide only a skeletal itinerary up to the furthest point reached. The outlines of the campaign are as follows, with the places where the Assyrian army pitched camp marked in bold characters:31

Itinerary 3 (713 bc) 1. Departing from Ellipi, the route first led to Erištana, a settlement in Ba’’it-​ili, then 2. to Absahutti, 3. to Parnuatti, 4. to Utirna, 5. to Diristanu, a settlement in Uriaka (compare Itinerary 2 of 716 bc, stage 7), 6. to Rimanuti, a district of Upuria (compare Itinerary 2 of 716 bc, stage 8), 7. to Uyadaue, 8. to Bustus (compare Itinerary 2 of 716 bc, stage 8), 9. to Agazi, 10. to Ambanda, and finally 11. to Dananu. 12. The return route led to Sikris (compare Itinerary 2 of 716 bc, stage 4),32 and then 13. probably to Harhar (compare Itinerary 2 of 716 bc, stage 1).

31. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 184–​190; no. 2: ll. 218–​224; no. 7: ll. 67–​70. 32. The only clue about the return route is the submission of an Anatolian king, who met Sargon in the Median land of Sikris in the same year, cf. Frame 2021: no. 82: vii 8′–​12′.

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When entering the Median lands from the territory of Ellipi in modern Luristan, the army started further east than in 716 bc, so that the campaign seems to have wheeled around the western fringes of the Great Salt Desert (Dasht-​e Kavir). In stages 5–​8, Assyrian forces once again touched or crossed areas that had already been attacked in 716 bc. However, at that time, a westward direction had been followed beyond Bustus (stage 8), whereas in 713 bc, the army seems to have moved north or northeast, probably up to the area of modern Tehran or regions even further east: Agazi and Ambanda (stages 9–​10) are said to be “far-​off districts at the edge of the land of the Arabs in the east.”33 These “Eastern Arabs” were the only people living beyond Media ever mentioned in Assyrian sources. They had, of course, nothing to do with the Arabs inhabiting the desert regions southwest of the Assyrian heartland, but the sound of their name must have seemed similar to that designation. Therefore, these “Arabs” were probably the same people whose land was known as Haraiva in Old Persian and as Aria in Greek sources on the Persian Empire (­chapter 62 in volume 5). In terms of military operations, the campaign of 713 bc was similar to that of 716 bc. The Assyrians burned the settlements of recalcitrant Medes, “who had thrown off the yoke of the god Aššur and roamed about the mountains and desert like thieves,”34 which means that they preferred to flee and go into hiding rather than be butchered by the militarily far superior Assyrian forces. However, many, if not most, chieftains seem to have submitted, and Sargon claimed to have received tribute from no fewer than forty-​five chiefs of the “mighty Medes.” This is the largest number of Median rulers ever mentioned in the Assyrian sources. In this year alone, “4,609 horses, mules and cattle, as well as sheep and goat without number” were said to have been extorted from the kings and chieftains of western Iran,35 a group that included the Medes as well as others.

33. Frame 2021: no. 1: l. 188: KUR.na-​gi-​i [ru]-​qu-​ti ša pat-​ti KUR.a-​ri-​bi ša ni-​pi-​ih d UTU-​ši. 34. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 189–​190. 35. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 192–​193; cf. no. 74: iii 54–​57, where 8,609 horses are mentioned.

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43.2.4.  The Median chiefs and their politics The campaign reports in Sargon II’s inscriptions document only a four-​ year span from 716 to 713 bc, but they provide unique insights into Media’s extremely complicated political landscape, from an Assyrian perspective. The distant Median lands were located far from the Assyrian heartland on the Tigris and were difficult to reach, but the Medes living there were no match at all for the Assyrian army. Even after more than a century of occasional Assyrian incursions, resistance was as sporadic and uncoordinated as ever: each Median chieftain continued to lead only his own retinue of warriors, made his decisions largely without considering his neighbors, and restricted his activities to the immediate environs of the settlements he ruled. The wall decoration of Sargon’s palace in his capital city of Dur-​ Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad) depicts western Iranian settlements with impressive walls and towers (figure 43.3),36 but in reality, actual Median fortifications seem to have been downright pathetic. Whereas in Syria and the Levant, the siege of a heavily fortified city could take years,37 no siege of any length is ever recorded on the Iranian Plateau. Virtually every Assyrian campaign in Media made short work of dozens of settlements, and even Harhar (figure 43.3: A), the most important settlement in western Iran, was easily seized by the Assyrian army as it was passing by in 716 bc. Since neither pitched battles nor fortified positions offered realistic options for survival, most chieftains either went into hiding in the mountains and deserts together with their people until the Assyrian forces had left the area, or submitted to the invaders in time and paid tribute. The very few who dared to stand up against the Assyrian military juggernaut stood alone and were easily crushed. In contrast to Syria and Babylonia, where local powers combined their efforts and formed powerful coalitions, Median chieftains usually

36. Albenda 1986: 87–​91, 108–​109 (identifying labels), pl. 109–​130 (Room 2); 92, 111–​112 (identifying labels), pl. 135–​138 (Room 14). 37. Cf. Fuchs 2008.

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Figure 43.3.  Depictions of western Iranian settlements, identified by name with labels in cuneiform script, on the wall decoration of the palace of Sargon II of Assyria in his capital city Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad). Drawings reproduced from Botta and Flandin 1849: pl. 55 (Harhar), pl. 68b (Kišesim), pl. 147 (Kišešlu), pl. 76 (Bit-​Bagaya), pl. 145 (Panziš/​Pazaši). Figure compiled by Karen Radner.

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abstained from joining forces, even at a regional level. Such conduct is understandable, however, if we assume that Median chieftains viewed their immediate neighbors as their most dangerous rivals and enemies and were much less worried about the strange Assyrians. Wicked neighbors were the source of constant anxiety, but the distant Assyrians would leave the area again sooner or later, and hopefully forever. Since no Assyrian campaign affected more than a small proportion of the vast Median territories, one could always hope that when they came next time, they would attack somewhere else. Moreover, the chieftains soon realized how easy it was to buy off an Assyrian king, and by means of clever intrigues, he could even be induced to attack one’s bothersome local rivals. The payment of even a substantial number of horses was a more than profitable investment if in return a lifelong enemy was weakened or perhaps even finished off once and for all. From this perspective, the otherwise frightening Assyrian Empire offered welcome opportunities. Impressed by the huge number of Median warriors and their virtually inexhaustible supply of horses, which constituted the most expensive military asset at that time, the Assyrians were well aware of the immense military potential of the “mighty Medes,” as they are sometimes called in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III and Sargon II.38 However, the crippling combination of extreme political fragmentation, opportunism, constant infighting, and disunity prevented the translation of Median manpower and equestrian resources into political and military might. The detailed report on the campaign of 716 bc (see Itinerary 2, above) provides us with the names of a large number of territorial units such as valleys or steppe regions, which in turn were subdivided into several political entities (sometimes comprising as many as six chiefdoms). The Assyrian sources do not mention any organizational level above that represented by the chieftains. The Median tribes listed by Herodotus—​the Busai, Paretakenians, Struchates, Arizantians, Budians, and Magians—​ are an enigma to us,39 since these names seem to have been completely 38. E.g., Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 41: 13′–​15′; no. 47: l. 42. 39. Hdt. 1.101. See the discussion of these names and suggested etymologies in Potts 2014a: 74–​75.

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unknown to the Assyrians despite having had direct contact with various Median groups for over two centuries.40 If any such tribal structures existed in the period from the ninth to the seventh century bc, their political significance was presumably negligible. As a consequence, next to nothing is known about the inner structure of these Median chiefdoms. Over time, we might reasonably expect the Medes’ internal rivalries to result in the concentration of land, wealth, and power in the hands of a steadily decreasing number of chieftains. What is documented, however, is the exact opposite. In 819 bc, a rather small number of Median chiefs fielded considerably stronger forces against Šamši-​Adad V of Assyria than their more numerous descendants did in the later half of the eighth century bc, when they were attacked by Tiglath-​pileser III and Sargon II. The simultaneous decrease in size and increase in numbers suggests that the sons of chieftains had equal rights of inheritance. After their father’s demise, they would have divided up their father’s lands, thus steadily increasing the number of chiefdoms and speeding up Media’s political fragmentation. That this is more than a hypothesis is demonstrated by the fact that, on occasion, the Assyrian sources feature two chieftains ruling side by side, perhaps as brothers. In 737 bc, Šataqupi and Mitraku were joint chieftains in Uparia (table 43.1: nos. 9 and 11), and in 713 bc, Ištesuku (?) and Auarisarnu were joint chiefs in Kaitanu (table 43.2: no. 27). Later, during the reign of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc), “Sarrati and Parihi, two sons of Gagi, the chieftain of Sahi” ruled together.41 How many chiefdoms existed in Media at the time of the Assyrian Empire? According to Sargon II’s inscriptions, 28 chiefs submitted to him in 716 bc, only 22 in 715 bc, and then 45 in 713 bc.42 All in all, no fewer

40. Only the name of Herodotus’s Paretakenians sounds similar to the lands of Partakka and Partukka, whose chieftains sought help from Esarhaddon of Assyria (680–​669 bc), see section 43.2.7. 41. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iv 1–​2. 42. Frame 2021: no. 100: ll. 115 and 192. There is no such information for the year 714 bc.

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Table 43.2  Median Chiefdoms and Their Chiefs from 716–​713 bc Chiefdoms

Events and Chiefs (if mentioned by name)

A: Chiefdoms subordinated to the Assyrian governor of Kišesim in 716 bc 1

Armangu

Chief not mentioned

2

Bit-​Hirmami

Chief not mentioned

3

Bit-​Sagbat/​Bit-​Sagabi

Chief not mentioned in 716; Makirtu pays tribute in 714

4

Harhubarban (=​no. 39?)

Chief not mentioned

5

Kilambate

Chief not mentioned in 716; Payukku pays tribute in 714

B: Chiefdoms subordinated to the Assyrian governor of Harhar in 716 bc (cf. nos. 10, 12, 17) 6 7 8

Araziaš/​Aranzešu/​Arazišu: part of Upper Nartu

Chief not mentioned

Chiefs of Nartu: Bit-​Ramatiya/​Bit-​Ramatua: Chief not mentioned U(a)ksatar, Duresi and part of Lower Nartu Satarešu, Uriqatu: part of Lower Nartu Chief not mentioned; paying rebellion in 715 tribute in 714

C: Chiefdoms encountered in the course of the foray of 716 bc 9

Zakrute

716 events not preserved; Bagbarna pays tribute in 714

10

Šab/​parda: near Kurabli

Daiku pays tribute in 716 and is subordinated to Harhar; rebellion in 715; Dari pays tribute in 714

11

[ . . . ]: near Kurabli

[ . . . ] pays tribute in 716

12

Sikris

Attacked in 716, subordinated to Harhar; rebellion in 715, . . . -parnua pays tribute in 713 (continued)

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Table 43.2 Continued Chiefdoms

Events and Chiefs (if mentioned by name)

13

. . . -​a : near Sikris

Attacked in 716

14

Igali: near Sikris

Attacked in 716

15

Bit-​U(m)argi: near Sikris

Attacked in 716, subordinated to Kišesim

16

Ukuta /​Uqutti

Devastated in 716, Uarzan pays tribute in 713

17

Uriak(k)a/​u /​Urikaia: near Anzakne

Karakka/​u pays tribute in 716 and 714; subordinated to Harhar in 716

18

Up(p)a/​uria

[ . . . ] pays tribute in 716; rebellion in 715; Satarpanu pays tribute in 713

19

Aratis/​šta/​i: near Upuria

Mašdakka/​Maštukku pays tribute in 716, 714, and 713

20

Bus/​štus: near Upuria

Razištu pays tribute in 716; rebellion in 716; Aria pays tribute in 713

21

Ka(n)zab(a)kanu/​i: near Upuria and Datumbu

Ušra pays tribute in 716, 714, and 713

22

Karzinu

[ . . . ] pays tribute (?) in 716; Sarruti pays tribute in 714 and 713

23

Barikanu: near Birnakan

Satarb/​panu pays tribute in 716, 714, and 713

24

[ . . . ]: near Birnakan

Uppa-​. . . pays tribute in 716

25

[ . . . ]: near Birnakan

[ . . . ] pays tribute in 716

26

Harziani/​u: near Saka

Zarduk(k)a/​u pays tribute in 716, 714, and 713

27

Kaitanu /​Kayatani: near Saka

Ištesukka pays tribute in 716; Ištesuku (?) and Auarisarnu pay tribute in 713 (continued)

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Table 43.2 Continued Chiefdoms

Events and Chiefs (if mentioned by name)

28

[ . . . ]: near Saka

Kir-[ . . . ] pays tribute in 716

29

[ . . . ]: near Ramanda

Šitaqupa pays [tribute] in 716

30

Irnisa/​Arnasia: near Gizilbunda

Šidiraššura pays tribute in 716; Arbaku pays tribute in 713

31

Hu-​. . . : near Irnisa

Battigur (?) pays tribute in 716

32

U-​. . . -​ata: near Uratas

Azamada pays tribute in 716

33

Hagabta: near Uratas

[ . . . ] pays tribute in 716

34

Uratista: near Uratas

Burbuasu pays tribute in 716

35

Qarkasia: near Uratas

Šummušra pays tribute in 716; [ . . . ] pays tribute in 713

36

Ginkir: near Uratas

Burbuazu pays tribute in 716

37

Rur-​. . . : near Uratas

Bu-​. . . -​batanu pays tribute in 716

D: Chiefdoms mentioned in/​since 714 bc 38

Andirpattianu

Mašdakku pays tribute in 714; Parkuku pays tribute in 713

39

Halhubarra (=​no. 4?)

Anzi pays tribute in 714

40 Kingaraku

Mašdayukku pays tribute in 714

41

Uzumanda pays tribute in 714

Kisilaha

42 Mali

Uzi pays tribute in 714

43

Uakirtu pays tribute in 714

Nappi

44 Qantau

Uzitar pays tribute in 714

45

Kitakki pays tribute in 714

Uriangi

46 Usis (?)

Akkussu pays tribute in 714

E: Chiefdoms mentioned only in 713 bc 47 Amakki

Mašdakku pays tribute in 713 (continued)

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Table 43.2 Continued Chiefdoms

Events and Chiefs (if mentioned by name)

48 Bit-​Barbari

Parurasu (?) pays tribute in 713

49 Bit-​Bari

Satarešu pays tribute in 713

50

Ha-​. . . -​ta-​. . . -​na

Uppamma pays tribute in 713

51

Ište’uppu

Ištesuku pays tribute in 713

52

Kakkam

Ašpabara pays tribute in 713

53

Partakanu

[ . . . ] pays tribute in 713

54

Zazaknu

[ . . . ] pays tribute in 713

55

. . . -​sana

Šutirna pays tribute in 713

Note: Median chiefdoms and their chiefs from 716–​713 bc. Sections A, B, D, and E are arranged in alphabetical order, and section C according to the sequence of Itinerary 2 (716 bc). For clarity, the names of chiefs are printed in bold. The table refers exclusively to Median polities. Therefore, names of mere settlements or regions are not included, and neither are other western Iranian polities, such as the kingdoms of Mannea and Ellipi or the chiefdoms of Namri, Bit-​Sangibuti, Parsua, Bit-​Kapsi, Bit-​Hamban, or Gizilbunda. Sources: For the Median chiefdoms and chiefs attested in 716 bc, see Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 95–​96 (nos. 1–​5 and no. 15), ll. 98–​99 (nos. 6–​8, 10, 12, 17), cf. also no. 2: ll. 87–​92; no. 4: ll. 39′–​45′; no. 117: ii 40 (no. 3), ii 45 (nos. 6–​7), ii 46–​69 (nos. 9–​37). For the rebellion in 715 bc, see Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 110–​111 (nos. 8, 10, 12, 18). For the chiefdoms and chiefs attested in 714 bc, see Frame 2021: no. 65: ll. 42–​49 (nos. 3, 5–​10, 17, 19, 21–​23, 26, 38–​46); for reading Usis (no. 46) instead of Usigur in Frame 2021: no. 65: l. 48 cf. Ušiši in Starr 1990: no. 49: rev. 2′–​3′. For the chiefdoms and chiefs attested in 713 bc, see Frame 2021: no. 82: vi 14′′–​37′′ (nos. 12, 16, 18–​23, 26–​27, 30, 35, 38, 47–​55).

than 55 Median chiefdoms can be identified in Sargon’s inscriptions alone, and many more can be found in the various Assyrian sources of the ninth to seventh centuries bc. Moreover, since it is reasonable to assume that chiefdoms existed in addition to those considered worth mentioning in the Assyrian documentation, the total number of Median chiefdoms could easily have been close to a hundred, or even more. After all, a look at the

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lists of chieftains who submitted to the king of Assyria in 716, 714, and 713 bc reveals a considerable degree of fluctuation in the names (table 43.2). Just four of them—​Mašdakku of Aratišta (table 43.2: no. 19), Ušra of Kanzabkani (no. 21), Satarb/​panu of Barikanu (no. 23), and Zardukka of Harzianu (no. 26)—​met with Sargon in each of the three years. Since most chiefs who paid tribute in 714 bc (nos. 38–​46), did not do so again in 713 bc (nos. 47–​55), we must conclude that even in 713 bc, when the Assyrian Empire’s involvement with the Median territories was at its absolute peak, only a small fraction of the Median chiefs in power cultivated a lasting relationship with the Assyrian conqueror; the overwhelming majority still took it for granted that the Assyrian forces would soon leave the area for good, as they had always done in the past. However, once the fortresses of Harhar and Kišesim (figure 43.3: A and B) were firmly established in 716 bc, the situation changed. From then on, the Assyrians maintained a permanent presence in western Iran. However, the effectiveness of Assyrian rule was still rather limited and remained weak in spite of the permanent presence of the king’s governors and garrisons in areas east of the Zagros mountain range. With no way to impose direct control over the Medes at an acceptable cost, deals had to be made with those local rulers on whose cooperation the Assyrian central authority ultimately depended. In return for their recognition of the Assyrian king’s overall authority, the yearly delivery of a fixed quantity of horses as tribute, and the fulfillment of other obligations of client rulers toward the Assyrian king (both symbolic and concrete, e.g., the supply of auxiliary troops), cooperative chiefs enjoyed the Assyrian Empire’s protection and were free to manage the affairs of their subjects as they saw fit. Entering into such a relationship was a compromise that usually suited both sides well. A rare insight into Assyrian indirect rule, and how it functioned, is provided by the correspondence between Sargon II and two successive governors of Harhar.43 Karakku, the chieftain of Uriaka, had submitted to Sargon in 716 bc and was still active in 714 bc (table 43.2: no. 17). Somewhat later, he was succeeded by his son Uppite, but for unknown 43. The following draws on the discussion in Fuchs and Parpola 2001: xxvii–​xxviii.

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reasons, Sargon replaced him with a certain Rama/​eti, son of Irtukkanu, who may have been the leader of a rival clan or lineage. Any apprehensions caused by this interference were soon overcome, and the new arrangement was accepted by both the people of Uriaka and the neighboring chiefs. Meanwhile, the unlucky Uppite was kept under arrest at Harhar together with his sons, not as a hostage, but as a useful threat to the new chief ’s power. In case Rama/​eti ever disappointed the expectations of his Assyrian masters, his deposed predecessor was at hand and ready to be restored to his former position. Such a situation never materialized, however, and in the spring of 706 bc, Uppite took advantage of the Assyrian governor’s temporary absence from the province and escaped from Harhar with his sons. His success was short-​lived; a mixed posse consisting of Assyrian garrison troops from Harhar and Median warriors of the chieftain Uaksatar eventually caught up with Uppite and his four sons in Šaparda. Measured by the itinerary of Sargon’s campaign in 716 bc (Itinerary 2, stages 1, 3 and 7), it was two stages from Harhar to Šaparda, but another four stages from Šaparda to his former territory in Uriaka. When he was captured, Uppite had covered about a third of the distance between the Assyrian stronghold and Uriaka. His Median pursuer, the chieftain Uaksatar, was in close contact with the Assyrian authorities, as both Harhar and his chiefdom were part of the same region of Nartu (table 43.2: nos. 6–​8) and he had cooperated with Sargon’s governors at least since 714 bc. Now, we find him actively involved in the hunt for Uppite and in his eventual capture. By contrast, chiefs further away from Harhar, like those of Zakrute, Sikris, and Šaparda, did nothing at all. They did not stop the fugitive Uppite when he passed through, nor did they anything to either help him or prevent his arrest. Obviously, they did not consider this matter their business.

43.2.5.  Median culture and way of life Almost nothing survives of the Medes and their material culture. Moreover, it is currently impossible to decide with confidence whether artifacts dating to the period prior to the Persian Empire originated from the Medes or from some other group living in western Iran during

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the Iron Age. For this reason, Median art remains a purely speculative topic. Language was certainly a distinguishing feature of Median culture, but the Median language is almost exclusively known from the names of the chieftains, and at that time, Old Iranian languages, which include Median, were in wide use on the Iranian Plateau. To make matters even more complicated, personal names identifiable as Old Iranian can be found among people otherwise using other, non-​ Indo-​European languages, while some Medes had names of non-​Indo-​ Iranian origin.44 Contemporaries (or at least outsiders from the Mesopotamian lowlands) had difficulty distinguishing the different peoples of the Iranian Plateau, even by their outward appearance. Assyrian palace reliefs depict all eastern mountain dwellers wearing the same tunics, sheepskin coats, lace-​up boots, and hairstyles (figure 43.4). The lifeways of the western Iranian peoples thus seem to have been very similar, and there are no indications that the Medes differed very much from their neighbors. The only direct references to the Median lifestyle occur in a literary text from the seventh century bc, now called the “Sargon Geography.”45 For unknown reasons, the relevant passage refers to just one Median chiefdom, Karzinu, which Assyrian forces reached in 716 bc (table 43.2: no. 22; also Itinerary 2: stage 10). As usual, non-​ Mesopotamian foreigners are characterized negatively, by listing the Assyrian cultural elements that the (barbarian) foreigners supposedly lacked. According to the “Sargon Geography,” the locals of Karzinu were people whose ha[irstyle] is chosen (?) with a razor, devoured (?) by fire, who do not know burial. Meat eaters, milk and roasted grain eaters, whos[e insi]des do not know oven-​baked [bread], whose bellies (do not know) beer.46 44. Schmitt 2009a. 45. Discussed by Liverani 1999. 46. Horowitz 1998: 74: ll. 57–​59.

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Figure 43.4. A warrior from the Iranian Plateau leading two splendidly adorned stallions before Sargon II of Assyria. This man may have come from Media, Mannea or any other place in western Iran, as Assyrian artists working at the end of the eighth century bc habitually depicted all these people with the typical sheepskin coat and lace-​up boots, armed with a spear or javelin. Detail of a stone slab from the wall decoration of Room 10 in the royal palace at Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad). Musée du Louvre, AO 19887. Photograph by Karen Radner.

This description makes it clear that the people of Karzinu differed in quite a number of respects, including hairstyle, funerary practices, and diet, from the cultural habits of the western parts of the Assyrian Empire. Kišesim and Harhar were the easternmost outposts of the Assyrian Empire on the Iranian Plateau, and, to the Assyrian mind, of civilization. Beyond them, settlements were small by lowland standards. Median livestock breeders probably practiced transhumance, inhabiting their settlements in winter and spending the summer on pastures high in the mountains. Such a practice easily accounts for certain peculiarities of warfare on the Iranian Plateau described in the Assyrian sources. Up to the very end of the eighth century bc, the Assyrians had no choice but to campaign in the summer months, as operating in the Zagros Mountains and beyond in other seasons was precluded by adverse

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weather conditions. Their ability to capture great numbers of settlements with ease is hardly surprising if the settlements were largely empty when they arrived. Similarly, when we read that the local people had fled, allegedly in terror, up to the “inaccessible mountains,” such movements might actually have been part of their seasonal migrations.47 It is plausible that the transhumants had relocated to their summer pastures weeks before the Assyrian army had covered the distance between Assyria and Media. In 716 bc this situation changed with the establishment of permanent Assyrian garrisons in Harhar and Kišesim, the governors of which could launch selective, small-​scale attacks even in the midst of winter48 when the herdsmen, unable to move and confined to their settlements together with their families and livestock, were most vulnerable. The description of Sargon’s campaign in 716 bc (Itinerary 2, stage 6) provides a rare reference to Median farming.49 In this regard, perhaps the obsessive focus on horses in the Assyrian sources is misleading. In any case, all of this hints at a robust rural economy that combined livestock breeding and farming but had no crafts or industries worth mentioning. The degree to which the Medes themselves participated in the trade that passed through their territories between Mesopotamia and the lands further east is unknown. From the Medes (and western Iran more generally), the Assyrians received horses, mules, Bactrian camels, oxen, sheep and goats,50 but no sophisticated finished products such as precious textiles, metalwork, or furniture, and no luxury goods except for lapis lazuli. Tellingly, the lapis lazuli paid by Median chieftains to Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc; section 43.2.7) was delivered in the form of unprocessed, raw “blocks.”51

47. For such behavior in the western flanks of the Zagros range, see Greco 2003. 48. For an expedition launched in January/​February, see Starr 1990: no. 60: l. 2; for another one launched in February/​March, see Starr 1990: no. 71: l. 3. 49. Frame 2021: no. 117: ii 53. 50. See, e.g., Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: obv. 39; Frame 2021: no. 65: l. 50; Leichty 2011: no. 1: iv 51–​52. 51. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iv 38; no. 2: iv 8; no. 3: iv 10′; no. 35: l. 5.

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Mount Bikni was occasionally called the “Lapis Lazuli Mountain,”52 and another mountain was once described as “Šikrakki, [a mountain] of gold.”53 However, lapis lazuli originates much further east, in the region of Badakhshan in modern Afghanistan. Moreover, over the course of two centuries of direct contact, the Assyrians found no gold in Media, and there are no references to mining whatsoever. Accordingly, the attributes of Mount Bikni and Šikrakki are probably just poetic descriptions of their shining appearance as seen from afar, rather than references to precious minerals that could be found and mined there. In the Assyrian province of Parsua, just west of the Median territories, a breed of chariot horse was available, at least in the seventh century bc, that was as renowned as the famous Kushite horses from Egypt/​Nubia.54 In contrast to such precious stock, Media had nothing but riding mounts to offer.55 A Median warrior won his fame primarily by his skill as a horseman and spear handler,56 and on the wall reliefs in Sargon’s palace at Dur-​Šarrukin, warriors from the Iranian Plateau are indeed depicted carrying pairs of javelins (figure 43.4).57 Median warriors fought on horseback and on foot, but there is no indication that they used either the chariot or the deadly composite bow, two essential elements of the armed forces of all technologically advanced powers at that time. Thus, by Assyrian, Urartian, and Elamite standards, Median warfare techniques were underdeveloped. There are no indications whatsoever that Mesopotamian culture or the cuneiform script had any impact on the Iranian Plateau beyond the 52. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iv 47; no. 2: iii 55; no. 4: iii′ 4′; no. 8: i′ 6′. 53. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: obv. 32; also no. 46: l. 13. 54. Cole and Machinist 1998: no. 104, with discussion in Dalley 1985: 43. For the Kushite horses, see Heidorn 1997. 55. Frame 2021: no. 65: l. 50. 56. Compare, e.g., personal names with the meaning “Horseman” or “Glory through one’s spear”; see Schmitt 2009a: nos. 24 and 71. For more on Median personal names, see further below in this section. 57. E.g., Albenda 1986: pl. 121 (Room 2, slabs 18–​19, in the center of the lower register).

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walls of the few Assyrian provincial centers. Messengers of Median origin sometimes forwarded letters sent by their Assyrian masters,58 but the Medes and their chiefs obviously had no need of any type of script. The Assyrian sources give no direct evidence of the religious concepts of the Medes. No Median gods are mentioned by name, and the Assyrians never identified anything that appeared to be a temple in the many Median settlements they captured and pillaged. According to some scholars, Zoroaster preached on the Iranian Plateau in Neo-​ Assyrian times,59 but if he did, his efforts left no trace in contemporary Assyrian sources. In many cultures, personal names constitute a rich source of religious beliefs, and we would expect the same from the numerous names of Median chieftains recorded in Assyrian sources. The cuneiform script, however, was not well suited to the spelling of foreign, non-​Semitic names, and Assyrian scribes had to improvise in order to approximate how these strange names sounded. As a result, their interpretation is difficult and quite a number of them cannot be explained at all. It is clear enough, however, that references to gods are surprisingly rare in the extant Median names. The god Mithra is recognizable in the name of Mitraku, a Median chieftain active in 737 bc (table 43.1: no. 11); the fire god Agni in the name of a certain Agnuparnu (“Agni’s glory”), who was Iranian but not necessarily a Mede.60 Names such as Bag(a)parna (“God’s glory”), Bagdatti (“The god-​g iven”), or Bagaia (perhaps an abbreviated name) refer to deities, but unfortunately do not identify them.61 The Old Iranian element *mazdā-​ “wisdom” is a component of names such as Mašdayukku, Mašdakku or Maštukku, but should not necessarily be considered evidence for the

58. Fuchs and Parpola 2001: xxix. 59. Cf., e.g., West 2010: 4–​8 for the discussions regarding the dating of Zoroaster. 60. Schmitt 2009a: nos. 5 and 93. For the possible identification of the sun god in the name Uardatti, see Schmitt 2009a: 63; for the moon god as an element of the name Mitatti, see Schmitt 2009a: no. 96. 61. Schmitt 2009a: nos. 31–​33.

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god Auramazda,62 who came to hold great religious importance in the time of the Persian Empire. Among both the Medes and the other western Iranian people who used Old Iranian languages, the concepts guiding naming practices seem to have been very different from the customs of Mesopotamia. Where Assyrian and Babylonian personal names typically offer praise to a god or the king, or are expressions of gratitude for having been granted the newborn or wishes for the divine protection of the child, the personal names of the western Iranian elite, as attested in the Assyrian sources, expressed the parent’s good hopes and wishes for their child’s life. Some of these names may have been clan names or nicknames adopted later in life, hinting at certain characteristics, skills, or achievements of the adult. Based on the extant names, the Assyrian Empire encountered warriors, horse breeders, and herders in Media. Taken together, the identifiable components of these names describe the ideal western Iranian chieftain of the period prior to the rise of the Persian Empire. Noble birth,63 fame, and an exemplary reputation,64 including wisdom (*mazdā-​; see above), were prerequisites for high rank and leadership, even kingship.65 Physical strength, horsemanship, mastery of spear-​ fighting, as well as prowess and success in combat,66 were all desirable attributes of the perfect chieftain who protected his people.67

62. Schmitt 2009a: nos. 90–​92, cf. Schmitt 2009a: 112. 63. Schmitt 2009a: nos. 68, 145, 178 (“Born/​created under auspicious circumstances”), nos. 129–​130 (“Noble descent”). 64. Schmitt 2009a: no. 160 (“Well-​adorned”), no. 19 (“Marvellous”), nos. 40–​42 (“High”), nos. 56, 106, 126, 130 (“Splendor of fortune”), nos. 119, 168 (“Famous”), no. 54 (“Far-​famed”), no. 115 (“Righteous”), nos. 18–​19, 68, 97 (“Truth”), no. 148 (“Good value”), no. 176 (“Good (?) heart”). 65. Schmitt 2009a: no. 107 (“Foremost”), no. 159 (“Supreme”), nos. 129, 172 (“Powerful”), no. 74 (“Reigning”), nos. 120–​122 (“Kingship”). 66. Schmitt 2009a: no. 135 (“Body”), nos. 12, 38, 169–​ 170 (“Strength”), no. 24 (“Horseman”), no. 71 (“Glory through one’s spear”), nos. 7–​10 (“Striking power”), no. 88 (“Hero”), no. 81 (“Humiliator of the enemy”). 67. Schmitt 2009a: no. 174 (“Tribe, people”), nos. 100, 121 (“Protector”).

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The names also contain wishes for well-​being, happiness, peace, and wealth.68 In the case of Šatašpa, whose name means “(Owner of ) hundred(s of ) horses,”69 the gods fulfilled his parents’ wish: as chieftain of Šaparda in 737 bc, Šatašpa was able to pay an exceptionally high tribute of 200 horses to Tiglath-​pileser III (Table 34.1: no. 12). A similar wish for the possession of (many) camels was probably expressed by the name Ušra.70

43.2.6.  Assyrian garrison life at the fringes of Media By 716 bc, the Assyrians had begun to make themselves at home in their new strongholds. In Harhar, which had been taken by force, the inhabitants were deported and replaced with deportees from elsewhere. In Kišesim, Assyrian gods were introduced, while in Harhar, where Mesopotamian gods had already been worshipped before the Assyrian conquest, existing temples only needed to be renovated.71 The governors’ building activities and, last but not least, the construction of city walls according to Mesopotamian standards, must have changed the outward appearance of both cities,72 which became Assyrian islands surrounded by an alien sea, as the surrounding landscape was very different, both culturally and physically, from Assyria. The Assyrians were not accustomed to the harsh winters of the Zagros Mountains and the Iranian Plateau. Letters from the state correspondence report men and horses dying in the cold, strongholds isolated by heavy snowfall, and garrisons

68. Schmitt 2009a: nos. 44–​45 (“Well-​being”), no. 111 (“Happiness”), no. 113 (“Peace”), no. 3 (“Wealth”). 69. Schmitt 2009a: no. 128; for a similar name of an individual who was not a Mede, see Schmitt 2009a: no. 25: Ašpaštatauk, “Mighty by the possession of horses.” 70. Schmitt 2009a: no. 167. 71. On the gods and temples in the new Assyrian strongholds, see Frame 2021: no. 117: ii 38–​40, 43–​45. 72. On the Assyrian building activities in Kišesim and Harhar, see Frame 2021: no. 7: ll. 59–​62 and Fuchs and Parpola 2001: no. 84, no. 94 (cf. Radner 2006: 126–​127 no. 3.1), no. 107.

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trying hard (sometimes in vain) to keep at least the main roads cleared of snow.73 A sedentary empire like Assyria relied on obedient, productive, and taxable farmers and townspeople, not unruly, warlike herders. As Media proper lacked the most basic prerequisites necessary to support administrative structures of the kind that the Assyrian Empire had established in the highly developed areas of Mesopotamia and the Levant, the expansion of the Assyrian provincial system came to a halt at the outer fringes of Media. Beyond the strongholds of Harhar and Kišesim, the only choice was some kind of indirect rule, the success and functioning of which depended on the individual capabilities of the king’s local representatives, his governors. Their style of government was necessarily very different from that seen in Assyria’s lowland provinces. In the Zagros Mountains and beyond, Assyrian rule functioned as a system of patronage between the governor, appointed by the Assyrian king, and the local chieftains, who were allowed to remain in full control of their people, as long as they submitted to the Assyrian Empire’s demands for tribute, information, workers, and service, principally in the form of participation in imperial military endeavors.74 Since affairs involving the local population were handled by their chieftains, the provincial government was less a matter of administration and bureaucracy and more an exercise in diplomacy and politics. Nevertheless, for members of the Assyrian imperial elite, remote mountain outposts like Harhar may not have been the best places to promote one’s career. Far from king and court, and isolated for parts of the year, the Zagros provinces certainly did not number among the most prestigious provinces of the empire: no governor of any of these eastern provinces was ever honored by being appointed as year eponym.75

73. For letters from the Assyrian state correspondence that report on the trouble with cold and snow, see Fuchs and Parpola 2001: nos. 60–​61, 83, 100; discussed in Van Buylaere 2009. 74. Fuchs and Parpola 2001: xxvi. 75. For the year eponyms of the Assyrian Empire, see Millard 1994. For the connection between an official’s appointment as year eponym and royal favor, see Mattila 2008; 2014.

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The Assyrian Empire had no religious or humanitarian mission. In the Median lands the Assyrian authorities tried to extract as many horses and mules as possible at the lowest possible cost. After 713 bc, no large-​scale military campaigns led by the king against or within Media are recorded. Instead of the monarch, the governors of the new eastern provinces now led their troops deep into Media, probably on a regular basis, in order to collect the horse tribute and to escort the precious animals safely back to the Assyrian heartland.76 Such expeditions must have been cumbersome tasks, but until the beginning of the seventh century bc, the risks involved seem to have been rather low. While the Assyrians greatly appreciated the quality and huge number of the horses reared in Media, it must have seemed obvious that, given the local situation, not even the most sophisticated methods of supervision, accounting, or bookkeeping would result in a meaningful increase in horse procurement. In this respect, it simply made no sense to send Assyrian bureaucrats to the Medes. The same was true of the metals and lapis lazuli that reached Assyria via Media. With the sources of these commodities out of reach, and probably not even known, the Assyrian authorities established customs checks at those points on the frontier where trading caravans entered the empire’s territory. The permanent bases established near Media were meant to serve not only as fortresses, garrisons, and supply depots for the imperial armies passing through, but as customs offices and trading posts (kāru) as well. According to the new names given to these sites following the Assyrian conquest (table 43.3), the last function seems to have been regarded as by far the more important. In the reign of Esarhaddon, the whole border region was called Bit-​kari, which means “House of the trading post(s).” However, the new names never really caught on, and even the scribes of Sargon were confused by the renaming of Bit-​Bagaya (figure 43.3: D) and Anzaria, mixing up their new names, Kar-​Adad and Kar-​Ištar, in the official inscriptions. While the Assyrian Empire’s subject peoples were usually expected to deliver their tribute themselves, typically to the Assyrian capital, the inhabitants of the Iranian Plateau were exempt from this obligation. 76. Fuchs and Parpola 2001: xxviii–​xxix.

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Table 43.3  Assyrian Fortresses and Trading Posts in Media Established Original name Assyrian name

Meaning

716 bc

715 bc

702 bc

Harhar

Kar-​Šarrukin

“Trading post of Sargon”

Kišesim

Kar-​Nergal

“Trading post of (the god) Nergal”

Kišešlu

Kar-​Nabû

“Trading post of (the god) Nabû”

Kindau

Kar-​Sîn

“Trading post of (the god) Sîn”

Bit-​Bagaya

Kar-​Adad/​Ištar “Trading post of (the god) Adad /​(the goddess) Ištar”

Anzaria

Kar-​Ištar/​Adad “Trading post of (the goddess) Ištar /​(the god) Adad”

Elenzaš

Kar-​Sîn-​ahhe-​ eriba

“Trading post of Sennacherib”

Sources: For 716 bc: Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 93–​100. For 715 bc: Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 113–​114; no. 7: ll. 60–​65; see also Fuchs 1994: 445. For 702 bc: Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 2: l. 32. For Assyrian depictions of Harhar, Kišesim, Kišešlu, and Bit-​Bagaya see figure 43.4: A–​D.

Instead, a chieftain who had accepted the Assyrian king as his overlord was only required to have the agreed-​upon number of horses ready for handover when the next Assyrian expeditionary force came along to pick them up. Not much is known about the exact number of horses that the individual chieftains were expected to procure during Sargon’s reign. The governor of Harhar reported to the king that “[I have re]ceived the tribute of the land of Zakrute, 40 horses. They promised to give the rest [of the tribute.]”77 In that case, the full number might well have amounted 77. Fuchs and Parpola 2001: no. 84: ll. 8′–​10′.

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to the average of 100 horses that Tiglath-​pileser III had extracted in 737 bc (table 43.1). However, these tribute payments alone did not satisfy the Assyrian Empire’s enormous demand for horses, and since the king’s procurement executives (mušarkisu) were kept busy purchasing every horse and mule they could lay their hands on, the number of animals bought by the Assyrians may well have exceeded the number received as tribute. The thriving trade in horses and mules that developed at Media’s outer fringes from 716 bc onward must have had a considerable impact on the Medes. Now, successful breeders could exchange their surplus stock for highly sophisticated luxury goods of which they had hitherto not even dreamed.78 It must have been much easier for leaders who distributed such precious gifts among their followers to enlarge their armed retinue with worthy warriors than it was for those unable to display similar largesse. Access to Assyrian goods should therefore have been an important incentive to seek and to maintain good relations with the empire. From our modern perspective, we might even speculate about whether the tribute paid could be interpreted as a de facto entrance fee to the Assyrian market. However, even these new opportunities for profit did not transform the Medes into peaceful traders and taxpayers. In fact, they never became the kind of obedient subjects preferred by the Assyrian kings. So, what did the Assyrians think of the Medes? The composers of the royal inscriptions regarded the Gutians (the traditional term for the people of western Iran in general) as lazy people who “do no work,”79 whereas hostile Medes in particular were described as “thieves roaming mountains and badlands.”80 Such biased verdicts must be understood

78. Note, e.g., the funerary goods of the three richest burials of the Iron Age cemetery near Sanandaj published by Amelirad et al. 2012, which can be assigned to the seventh century bc based on the style of the cylinder seals and fibulae in combination with a radiocarbon date; see Radner et al. 2020. 79. Frame 2021: no. 117: ii 34. 80. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 189–​190.

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in light of the comparable biases that were nourished in the Assyrian imperial court about the “treacherous Hittites” and the “evil Elamites.” By contrast, no such insulting remarks appear in the letters of Assyrian functionaries who were in close contact with actual Medes at the frontier on a day-​by-​day basis.

43.2.7.  Media in the seventh century bc: supervised instability, guided chaos The four years from 716 to 713 bc marked the peak of the Assyrian Empire’s engagement in Media. Sargon II’s successors, who retained his organizational measures with no major changes, soon shifted their attention away from western Iran. The Median frontier never became quiet, but during the seventh century bc the kings delegated all military operations there to their subordinates. After Sargon, no Assyrian king ever personally went on campaign in the Median lands. In 702 bc, Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) reached Media via Ellipi (mod. Iranian province of Luristan) following the same route his father and predecessor Sargon had taken in 713 bc. He annexed Bit-​Barru, a territory of Ellipi that bordered both the Median lands and the Assyrian frontier provinces. Elenzaš, the center of Bit-​Barru, was established as yet another Assyrian stronghold. Renamed Kar-​Sîn-​ahhe-​eriba (“Trading post of Sennacherib”), it was resettled with deportees from elsewhere in the Assyrian Empire. This was, however, a rather modest territorial gain, which did not justify the establishment of a new province, and so Kar-​Sîn-​ahhe-​eriba was placed under the authority of the governor of Harhar.81 Because Sennacherib was already on his return march when he received “a substantial payment from the distant Medes, of whose lands none of the kings, my ancestors, had heard mention,”82 he did not invade Media proper. Western Iran was not the focus of his attention, and there

81. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 46: ll. 15–​17. 82. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: ll. 28–​31.

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is only one obscure reference to another military intervention, probably in 687 bc or perhaps later, against “[the land of Bit-​Abdad]ani (and) the distant Medes,” in the course of which Bit-​Abdadani, one of the Medes’ western neighbors, may have been attacked or even annexed.83 For the reign of Sennacherib’s son Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc), two different kinds of textual sources complement each other in a unique way. Whereas the royal inscriptions of this period are rather laconic as far as Media is concerned, the so-​called oracle queries to the sun god Šamaš provide firsthand insight into the secret worries and fears, the planning and scheming of the Assyrian king and his advisors. In Esarhaddon’s inscriptions, a number of unconnected events in three different parts of the Median lands are recorded. Between 680 and 676 bc, two “mighty” and unsubmissive chieftains named Šidirparna and Eparna were brought to the Assyrian heartland, together with their people and the usual booty of horses and other livestock. They had been captured in the land of Patušarri, a district near the edge of the House of Salt, which is in the midst of the land of the distant Medes, near Mount Bikni, the Lapis Lazuli Mountain, upon the soil of whose land none of the kings, my ancestors, had walked.84 According to this, the land of Patušarri was situated in roughly the same area between the Great Salt Desert (Dasht-​e Kavir, to the Assyrians the “House of Salt”) and Mount Damavand (probably Mount Bikni) where Sargon had campaigned in 716 and 713 bc. The report is surprisingly short and provides no details on the background of this affair or the resultant military operations. According to one of the queries, Eparna seems to have menaced Assyrian tribute-​collecting expeditions,85 so both

83. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 26: l. 7′. 84. Leichty 2011: no. 1: 2: iii 53–​61; no. 78: ll. 29–​34. 85. Starr 1990: no. 64. Eparna’s land was not too far from Andarpatti[anu] (Starr 1990: no. 64: l. 5), attested as Andirpattianu in Sargon II’s inscriptions (Table 43.2: no. 38). For more Median troublemakers, see Starr 1990: no. 71: rev. 2′–​3′ (names broken).

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he and Šidirparna might have fallen victim to a punitive raid organized by the Assyrian governors of Bit-​kari (the collective name for the provinces of Harhar and Kišesim at this time). Meanwhile, the chaotic situation within Media proper had deteriorated. In addition to hostilities from uncooperative Median chiefs like Eparna, ambushes by Mannean, Cimmerian, and Scythian war parties had to be reckoned with (section 43.3.6). As a result, the Assyrian governors of Bit-​kari and the magnates in command of the tribute-​collecting expeditions relied upon strong military escorts when they traveled the well-​known routes via Sikris, Ramadani, and Up(u)ria to collect the tribute of horses due from the local chieftains.86 Occasionally, the situation became unpleasant, even in the region of Nartu, in close proximity to Harhar, the most important Assyrian center in western Iran, e.g., when an armed uprising of a local chieftain seemed imminent.87 Even more disturbing was the hostile stance of Kaštaritu, the chieftain of Kar-​Kašši, and his fellow chiefs Dusanni of Šaparda and Mamitiaršu (the name of whose chiefdom is unknown). Kaštaritu was regarded as a potential threat to Assyrian interests in the region, the more so as he was deemed able to muster Mannean and/​or Cimmerian support. At some point, even Kišesim, the other fortified provincial center established by Sargon II, seemed to be in immediate danger.88 If Kaštaritu’s otherwise unknown territory of Kar-​Kašši (“Trading post of the Kassites”) is to be identified with Qarkasia, known from Sargon’s campaign of 716 bc (Itinerary 2, stage 15), then the Assyrian strongholds of Harhar and Kišesim would have been

86. Starr 1990: nos. 64–​72. For Sikris, Ramadani/​Ramanda and Upuria, see Starr 1990: no. 65: ll. 2′–​4′ and rev. 10 (in l. 4′, read KUR.Up-​ri-​i[a] instead of Ár-​ri-​ i). See Table 43.2: nos. 12 and 18, as well as Itinerary 2 (716 bc): stages 4, 8, and 13; Itinerary 3 (713 bc): stages 6 and 12. 87. Starr 1990: no. 73. 88. Starr 1990: nos. 41–​55. For the query concerning Kišassu (i.e., Kišesim), see Starr 1990: no. 43.

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in easy reach of both Kaštaritu and his occasional ally Dusanni of Šaparda.89 However, the queries put by the omen specialists to the sun god Šamaš concern only likely events, not actual facts, and many, if not most, of the worries expressed in them never actually materialized. According to the queries, a military strike against Kaštaritu and his land Kar-​Kašši was under consideration at the Assyrian court,90 but since no such attack is recorded in Esarhaddon’s inscriptions, it was probably never carried out. Instead, the Assyrian king may have responded favorably to Kaštaritu’s peace initiative, which is the subject of two other such queries.91 If the conflict was indeed resolved peacefully, it is not surprising that neither Kaštaritu nor his cronies were mentioned in Esarhaddon’s inscriptions, as such subject matter was not considered of interest for this text genre. Infighting, jealousies, intrigues, and blackmail among the Medes offered Esarhaddon opportunities to extend his influence on the Iranian Plateau. Between 680 and 676 bc, “Uppis, chieftain of Partakka, Zanasana, chieftain of Partukka, and Ramataya, chieftain of Urakazabarna, Medes whose country is remote and who had not crossed the boundary of Assyria nor trodden on its soil in the time of the kings, my ancestors,”92 appeared in Nineveh and submitted to the Assyrian king in order to gain his support against their local rivals. Since the presents they brought, namely large horses and blocks of lapis lazuli (section 43.2.5), were welcome, Esarhaddon complied with their request for military assistance against their neighbors and delegated the matter to his governors on the Median frontier. A subsequent punitive expedition in support of the king’s newly won Median subjects is said to have been a great success, with settlements devastated and tribute imposed

89. For Qarkasia and Šaparda, see Table 43.2: nos. 10 and 35, as well as Itinerary 2 (716 bc): stage 3 and stage 15. 90. Starr 1990: nos. 59–​62. 91. Starr 1990: nos. 56–​57. 92. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iv 32–​36, no. 2: iv 1–​6; no. 3: iv 3–​8′; no. 4: iii 12′–​16′; no. 6: iii 25′–​30′.

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on less compliant chieftains.93 Unfortunately, no details of the campaign are recorded and we therefore do not know the names of the defeated enemies and their lands. Obviously, the short stay of the three chiefs in the Assyrian capital had left more of an impression on the composers of Esarhaddon’s inscriptions than the subsequent military operations, in which their king had not personally taken part. But where did the chieftains bearing gifts for Esarhaddon come from? The toponyms Partukka and Partakka sound similar to Paraitakene, the name of the region around modern Isfahan used in classical sources. If Esarhaddon’s governors fought in this region, their expedition might well have been the Assyrian Empire’s farthest-​reaching military operation on the Iranian Plateau. In the days of Esarhaddon, Medes were not an unusual sight in the Assyrian capital. Side by side with auxiliaries and mercenaries from other regions in the imperial zone of influence, Median warriors served in the Assyrian army, some even as the king’s own bodyguard in Nineveh.94 The chieftains back home were held responsible for the conduct of the men they had sent. In 672 bc, Esarhaddon imposed upon all his subjects who enjoyed leadership positions in the empire an oath in support of the eccentric arrangement that he had devised in order to have not one but two of his sons succeed him (Ashurbanipal as king of Assyria, and Šamaš-​šumu-​ ukin as king of Babylon). Clay tablets bearing the impressions of the seals of the god Aššur and the text of the oath taken by three Median chieftains are preserved, namely Ramataya of Urakazabarnu, Hatarna of Sikris, and Burdadi of Karzitali.95 Therefore, Ramataya, the very chieftain of Urakazabarna who had submitted between 680 and 676 bc, must have remained Esarhaddon’s trusted vassal for at least four years.

93. The earliest source, dated to 676 bc, is Leichty 2011: no. 2: iv 1–​20. For the other sources, see the texts listed in the previous footnotes. 94. Starr 1990: no. 144: l. 10; see Liverani 1995; Lanfranchi 1998. 95. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 6 with note 3. For Karzitali, see Starr 1990: no. 64: l. 9.

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Lastly, between 672 and 669 bc, the newly appointed crown prince Ashurbanipal reported on a certain “son of Uaksat[ar]” who had relations with a group of Cimmerian warriors. Unfortunately, the letter is badly broken, and it is unclear whether this Uaksatar was a Mede or another, non-​Median chieftain from western Iran.96 We include the reference here because of the name’s similarity to Umakištar, as the name of the later Median king Cyaxares is rendered in Babylonian texts (section 43.2.8). Even if the Median lands were a more dangerous place in Esarhaddon’s time than they had been in the eighth century bc, the Assyrian Empire’s position as such was by no means endangered there. Occasional Cimmerian and Scythian interference certainly increased the level of political chaos on the Iranian Plateau, but the overall situation remained unchanged. As before, Media was in constant turmoil, but these troubles were of no great consequence for the neighboring regions. In contrast to the Cimmerians, who were active across a huge area ranging from western Iran to western Anatolia (section 43.3.9), Median raiding parties were rarely seen outside Media proper.97 From the long reign of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc), no letters or queries referring to Media survive, and the inscriptions of this king report only one intervention sometime between 663 and 654 bc. As was so often the case during that time, the operation was only an extension of a successful campaign against the Manneans (section 43.3.6). With regard to Media, the report is extremely brief and alleges that no fewer than seventy-​five fortified settlements were plundered. Not one of them was deemed important enough to be mentioned by name, and no details regarding the booty are provided. As usual, Ashurbanipal stayed at home in Nineveh, where he received three captives: “Birishatri, a chieftain of the Medes, (as well as) Sarrati and Parihi, the sons of Gagi, the chieftain of Sahi.”98 While the name of Birishatri’s territory is not recorded, the

96. Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 15: l. 20′. 97. Starr 1990: no. 79: l. 8 (in Ellipi). 98. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 92−iv 5 (composed 649/​8 bc); no. 4: iii 16′−22′ (composed 648 bc); no. 6 v 6–​12 (composed ca. 647 bc); no. 7: iv 59′′–​ 65′′ (composed ca. 647 bc); no. 8: iv 22′′ (composed ca. 646 bc).

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mention of the two brothers in combination with their father’s name is unique. Gagi seems to have been a known quantity to Assyrian audiences and was perhaps a prominent adversary of the empire in Media. He might have passed away shortly before the Assyrian attack, leaving the hopeless defense of Sahi to his sons. This was the last Assyrian intervention in Media ever recorded. Once again, the Assyrians had demonstrated their military superiority, but with only a few unimportant settlements destroyed, the operation was regarded as so insignificant that the Median part of the campaign was left out of the inscriptions of Ashurbanipal composed after ca. 646 bc. When so many new and exciting stories could be told, this minor Median affair was too boring and unsatisfying to be included in texts that served to promote the king’s prestige. The limited attention paid by the Assyrian imperial court to the Median lands was a direct consequence of the stabilization of the political situation on the Iranian Plateau. From the late 650s bc onward, the Mannean kingdom was again on friendly terms with the Assyrian Empire, and the Cimmerian and Scythian war parties had left western Iran (section 43.3.7). With disruptive influences from outside thus gone, Media was again a turbulent but ultimately harmless backwater under Assyrian observation, where once in a generation a single military expedition of moderate size was deemed more than enough to curb the nuisances caused by local troublemakers. The extremely loose type of indirect rule established in the Median lands by the Assyrian Empire at the end of the eighth century bc had become a permanent solution. The Assyrian king continued to rule his Median subjects exclusively through the agency of their chieftains, and since the tentacles of the empire did not reach the common Mede, Assyrian culture failed to have a beneficial or “civilizing” effect on the general Median population. Indirect rule meant that most Medes were never personally bullied by Assyrian officials or fleeced by imperial tax collectors. We can, however, be certain that every demand of the Assyrian overlord was passed down to them through their chieftains, who were still free to continue their infighting, with or without Assyrian assistance. As a result, the distant Assyrian king and his local governors,

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who exacted tribute from Media without being able to establish law and order in return, were most likely seen as oppressors, but hardly as a legitimate government. Media never became an integral part of the Assyrian Empire, and the price paid by the Medes for being ungovernable was exploitation, instability, insecurity, and constant warfare. Apart from occasional imperial interventions, Median chieftains greatly profited from this situation. The economic and political options afforded by the Assyrian Empire’s presence certainly strengthened their position. At the same time, they could still rely on armed retinues that were exclusively their own. This allowed them to enjoy almost complete freedom of action, even to the point of cutting their ties with the empire whenever they saw fit.

43.2.8.  Assyria’s nemesis Media is mentioned one last time in an inscription of Ashurbanipal’s dating to 638 bc.99 After that, the Assyrian sources fall silent. According to a Babylonian chronicle, the Medes, united and led by a king of their own, invaded Mesopotamia in 615 bc, and within just five years, this new and seemingly irresistible power destroyed the remnants of the once powerful Assyrian Empire.100 Unfortunately, no reliable information about the formation process of the Median kingdom is available. The Herculean act of bringing into line legions of belligerent western Iranian chieftains, all of whom were motivated by their individual concerns, is an astonishing achievement. The Greek historians Herodotus and Ctesias of Cnidus recorded contradictory accounts much later, when the Medes had already lost their power to the Persian Empire. Their narratives, chronological frameworks, and even lists of Median kings are incompatible.101

99. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 21: l. 20′; Media is mentioned side by side with Mannea. 100. Grayson 1975: 92–​96: Chronicle 3: ll. 23–​65; Glassner 2004: 220: ll. 23–​65. 101. For the different lists of Median kings, see Nichols 2008: 154–​155.

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According to Herodotus,102 the Medes were the first people to free themselves from the Assyrian yoke. He records that a man called Deioces, son of Phraortes, a man “of great repute in his own village,” won fame as a trustworthy judge. “Since robbery and lawlessness prevailed even much more in the villages than they did before,” the Medes “agreed that he should be their king,” and Deioces thus rose from a commoner to a despot, who united the Median tribes, formed a guard of spearmen, and built a new capital, Ecbatana, with strong fortifications and a royal palace.103 After Deioces’s death, his son Phraortes subjugated the Persians and “proceeded to subdue Asia going from one nation to another,” only to be slain in battle when he attacked the Assyrians, who had been weakened by revolts but were still powerful enough to defend their homeland.104 Deioces’s grandson Cyaxares reorganized the Median forces and defeated the Assyrians; but when he besieged Nineveh, he was attacked and defeated by the Scythians,105 who then became the rulers of Asia.106 Twenty-​eight years later, Cyaxares invited the Scythians to a banquet and killed “the greater number” of them, when they were drunk. With his power thus restored, he took Nineveh at last, and “made the Assyrians subject to them (i.e., the Medes) excepting only the land of Babylon.”107 By contrast, Ctesias’s protagonist was a Mede called Arbaces, who began his career as a general in Assyrian service and as the governor of the Medes on the Assyrian king’s behalf. Arbaces met his later ally, the Babylonian Belesys, at Nineveh, when both performed a year’s military

102. Hdt. 1.95. 103. Hdt. 1.96−101. For the Deioces episode in Herodotus’s Histories, see Meier et al. 2004. According to another tradition, it was not Deioces but “Cyaxares, who excelled in his sense of justice,” and “was chosen to be king by the Medes”—​ many years after Assyria’s fall; see Nichols 2008: 77. 104. Hdt. 1.102. 105. Hdt. 1.103. 106. Hdt. 1.104−105. 107. Hdt. 1.106.

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service commanding Assyria’s Median and Babylonian auxiliary troops. Encouraged by the weakness of the last Assyrian king, the effeminate Sardanapalus, Arbaces and Belesys destroyed Assyria, and Arbaces became the first king of Media.108 Several of Herodotus’s and Ctesias’s protagonists can be identified with people known from Assyrian and Babylonian sources, such as Sardanapalus with Ashurbanipal, Belesys with Nabopolassar (625–​605 bc), the founder of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire (­chapter 50 in volume 5), and Cyaxares with Umakištar, the Median conqueror of Nineveh. However, the plots of Herodotus’s and Ctesias’s stories cannot be reconciled with the course of events known from Near Eastern sources, and it is still unknown to what extent many fascinating details, such as the background of Arbaces (as described by Ctesias), were based on fact. Names similar or identical to Deioces, Cyaxares,109 and Arbaces can be found in Assyrian sources (table 43.4), where we even find a possible candidate for the name Phraortes. These names, however, seem to have been common among the people living on the Iranian Plateau during the Assyrian period, and none of the individuals bearing them can be identified with any protagonist in the stories recorded by the Greek historians. Dayukku was not even a Mede, but a Mannean governor (or vassal ruler), and the individual called Paramu[ . . . ] may have been a Cimmerian. According to Herodotus, Cyaxares’s grandfather Deioces would have lived at the end of the eighth century bc, just like the Median chieftain Daiku of Šaparda. An identification would be easier to justify, however, if Daiku were the chief of Hagabta, not Šaparda (table 43.2: no. 10 and no. 33). Hagbata is the only Median settlement mentioned by Assyrian sources whose name is similar to that of Agamtanu/​Ecbatana (mod. Hamadan), the place chosen by Herodotus’s Deioces to become the capital of his new Median kingdom. Moreover, the position of Hagabta

108. Ctesias FGrH 688 F1 §24–​ §28 (apud Diod. Sic. 2.24−28); see Nichols 2008: 68–​71, 75–​76. 109. It must have been particularly difficult to write down Cyaxares’s original name. For the attempts made by scribes writing in Old Persian, Babylonian, Elamite, and Lycian, see Schmitt 2009a: 161.

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Table 43.4  Names of Median Leaders Mentioned by Herodotus and Ctesias and in Assyrian Sources Herodotus

Deioces

Phraortes

Kyaxares

−

Ctesias

−

−

−

Arbaces

Assyrian royal inscriptions

Daiku Dayukku

−

Uksatar Arbaku Uaksatar Umak[satar]

Letters from the correspondences of Sargon II and Esarhaddon

−

Paramu[ . . . ] Uaksat[ar]

−

Sources: Daiku: Table 43.2: no. 10. Dayukku: Frame 2021: no. 1: l. 102; no. 7: l. 49. U(a)ksatar/​Umak[satar]: Table 43.1: no. 5; Table 43.2: nos. 6–​8; Fuchs and Parpola 2001: no. 101: rev. 6; no. 110: rev. 4; Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 15: l. 20′. Arbaku: Table 43.2: no. 30. Paramu[ . . . ]: Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 15: l. 24′. The identification with Phraortes is uncertain, but compare the Babylonian version of the Bisotun inscription of Darius I, where the name Phraortes is expressed as Parumartiš; see Malbran-​ Labat 1994: 97 §22.

must have been quite close to the Assyrian strongholds of Kišesim and Harhar,110 and the Assyrian governors who kept their Median neighbors under close surveillance certainly would have taken immediate steps to prevent the emergence of a Median kingdom under their very noses. For both Herodotus and Ctesias, the rise of Media was an internal affair of the Medes, with no interference from the outside. According to Herodotus, the process was delayed by Scythian attacks, whereas Assyria’s role was an altogether passive one: idly sitting in Nineveh, the Assyrians just waited there to be annihilated. Obviously, such a state of affairs does not fit the historical context of the reign of Ashurbanipal. Even if there was no major military operation in Media between 654 and 638 bc, 110. According to Itinerary 2 (716 bc), stages 15–​16, Hagabta was just one stage away from Kisasi/​Kišesim.

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Assyrian troops were victorious elsewhere at this time. In Ashurbanipal’s last years, between 638 and 631 bc, the Cimmerian Sandakurru (or perhaps Sandakšatru), an enemy active in Anatolia (section 43.3.9), was defeated, one way or another,111 which suggests that the Assyrian Empire was still able to counter dangerous developments in its wider sphere of influence. It is unclear whether Assyria would have been able to intervene in this way in the reign of Aššur-​etel-​ilani (630–​627 bc). However, from 627 bc onward, the Assyrians were definitely in serious trouble both at home and in Babylonia and, therefore, the Median kingdom most likely emerged after 627 bc, or possibly already after 631 bc. Our main source for the events leading to the Assyrian Empire’s downfall is a Babylonian chronicle focused exclusively on events in Mesopotamia.112 According to this text, in October or November 615 bc, “the Mede came down to Arraphe.” Since this city was very close to the principal centers of the Assyrian heartland (Assur, Nineveh, and Arbela), all of the empire’s positions in western Iran must already have been lost. Back in the eighth century bc, the Assyrians had been impressed by the “mighty Medes” who had, however, always acted on behalf of a multitude of individually, rather powerless chieftains. By contrast, the chronicle refers to “the Mede” called Umakištar, the “king of the Umman-​manda,” as acting on his own and with overwhelming power. There can be no doubt that this must have been the same as Herodotus’s Median king Cyaxares. When Umakištar/​Cyaxares appeared with his forces in the Mesopotamian lowlands in 615 bc, the ongoing war between the declining Assyrian Empire and Nabopolassar’s expanding Babylonian kingdom was about to stall after twelve years of intense fighting (­chapter 50 in volume 5). It was “the Mede” who gave fresh and powerful impetus to the war and thus shattered Assyria’s last hopes for survival. Cyaxares certainly profited from the experiences of those among his warriors who had previously served in the enemy’s armed forces.

111. Novotny and Jeffers 2021: no. 224: ll. 24–​25. 112. Grayson 1975: 91–​96: Chronicle 3: ll. 1–​65; Glassner 2004: 218–​223: Chronicle 22: 1–​65; with discussion in Fuchs 2014: 40–​43.

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They must have known the Assyrian heartland and its principal cities very well. In the summer of 614 bc, “the Mede” roamed through this region with impunity, taking first Tarbiṣu, a city near Nineveh, then Assur, the very city from which the Babylonian troops had been driven off the year before. Cyaxares now forged an alliance with Nabopolassar, the king of Babylon, who arrived too late to participate in the siege of Assur. For unknown reasons, “the Mede” joined the war every second year only. His decisive role is all the more apparent as his Babylonian ally made only limited progress in 613 and 611 bc, when left to his own devices. The backbone of the Assyrian Empire was finally broken in the summer of 612 bc, when the combined forces of the king of Babylon and “the king of the Umman-​manda,” i.e., the Medes, sacked Nineveh after a surprisingly short siege of only three months. Cyaxares did not see the need to participate in person in the mopping-​up operations which followed after this key victory. However, his Babylonian ally was still heavily dependent on his support. Only in the winter of 610/​609 bc, when Nabopolassar was “accompanied by a great force of Medes,”113 was Assyria’s last ruler Aššur-​uballiṭ II finally dislodged from Harran, in what was to be Assyria’s last stand. The term “Umman-​manda,” which denigrated the Medes as savages,114 was not used in the contemporary inscriptions of Nabopolassar of Babylon, but half a century after Assyria’s fall, when the destruction of the Assyrian temples had come to be seen in hindsight as highly problematic. The inscriptions of the last Babylonian king, Nabonidus (555–​539 bc), laid all the blame on the “king of the Umman-​manda” in an effort to exculpate Nabopolassar, the founder of the Neo-​ Babylonian Empire, from an accusation of sacrilege (see also ­chapter 50 in volume 5).115

113. Levavi 2018: 297 no. 58: ll. 7–​12. 114. On the term “Umman-​manda” and its use, see Adalı 2011: especially 93–​95. 115. Schaudig 2001: no. 3.3a: ii 1′–​41′; Weiershäuser and Novotny 2020: no. 3: ii 1′–​41′. For a discussion, see Fuchs 2014: 46–​47.

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43.2.9.  A kingdom of savages or a savage empire? Assyria’s demise made the Median king Cyaxares by far the most powerful ruler in the Near East. The potential for war against their erstwhile Median allies was such a great source of anxiety to the Babylonians116 that King Nebuchadnezzar II (604–​562 bc) and his successors built the most massive fortification system that the world had seen so far.117 However, the dreaded Median invasion of Babylonia never took place, probably because the Median kings were fully occupied with troubles on the Iranian Plateau and beyond. The short-​lived Median kingdom, albeit very powerful, was a shadowy and intriguing presence in the history of the ancient world, but it was certainly not an empire like Assyria, or like Persia was to become under the Teispid and Achaemenid rulers.118 The effective range of Cyaxares’s power is still unknown,119 but in some regions he and his dynasty were favorably remembered even after the fall of his kingdom. In 522 bc, when the Persian Empire seemed to have come to an early end in the wake of Cambyses’s demise, and the people of the Near East regained their former freedom for a brief moment, two local leaders claimed to be kings “of the seed of Umakuištar [i.e., Cyaxares].” One was a certain Fravartiš (Old Persian)/​Par(u)martiš (Akkadian)/​Phraortes (Greek) in Media proper. The other individual was named Ciçantaxma (Old Persian)/​Šitrantahma (Akkadian)/​ Tritantaichmes (Greek) in Sagartia (probably corresponding to the area known to the Assyrians as Zikirtu; see section 43.3.8).120 We may thus assume that both Media and Sagartia had been parts of the core region

116. Cf. Schaudig 2001: no. 2.19: i′ 12′; Weiershäuser and Novotny 2020: no. 46: i′ 12′: “The [Umman-​Mand]a is all around it [i.e., the temple of Harran], and its forces are powerful.“ 117. Cf. Da Riva 2010. 118. Sancisi-​Weerdenburg 1988; Kienast 1999. 119. Cf. Rollinger 2003a. 120. Malbran-​Labat 1994: 97–​99: §22 and §26; Schmitt 2009b: 52–​61: §24 B–​E and §33 B–​E; also Kuhrt 2007: 144 §24, 146 §33. Cf. the discussion in Potts 2014a: 103–​104.

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of the Median kingdom. Likewise, the readiness of the Parthian and the Margian rebels to form an alliance with Fravartiš, the leader of Media,121 hints at a close relationship between these two regions and the former Median kingdom. Moreover, if it is true that Cyrus II, the founder of the Persian Empire, began his career as a “humble slave” of Ištumegu/​ Astyages,122 the last king of the Medes, the Persian heartland must have been subject to the king of the Medes, at least temporarily.123 In order to assess the character of the first great power centered in western Iran, we must remember that the Median kingdom grew out of a society of herder-​warriors and their constantly bickering chieftains, as documented in the Assyrian sources from the late ninth to the mid-​ seventh century bc (section 43.2.5). When the Assyrian Empire fell, the Iranian Plateau was still a remote cultural backwater, whose development lagged far behind the lands of the Fertile Crescent and Egypt. It is thus not at all surprising that Cyaxares’s entirely new and short-​lived kingdom, which came to an end in 550 bc, left no traces of a Median bureaucracy or any of the administrative tools used by their Assyrian predecessors, their Babylonian contemporaries, or their Persian successors. Most probably, the Median kingdom was just a loose federation of western Iranian chieftains and kings, held together by their personal ties to the Median king, who was less an absolute monarch than a first among equals.124 This fits the description of other rulers “who march at the side” of Ištumegu/​Astyages, the last king of Media.125 In 550 bc, however, his royal followers decided to no longer do that. In the course of a campaign

121. Malbran-​ Labat 1994: 99 §28; Schmitt 2009b: 63 §35 B–​ C ; also Kuhrt 2007: 146 §35. 122. According to an inscription of Nabonidus of Babylon: Schaudig 2001: no. 2.12 (I): i 27; Weiershäuser and Novotny 2020: no. 28: i 27. 123. Cf. Wittke et al. 2007: 55 map B. 124. Kienast 1999; Liverani 2003: 7–​11; Rollinger 2003a: 318–​319; Fuchs 2014: 51–​52. 125. Again in the inscription of Nabonidus of Babylon: Schaudig 2001: no. 2.12 (I): i 24–​25; Weiershäuser and Novotny 2020: no. 28: i 24–​25: “The Umman-​Manda that you spoke of, it, its land, and the kings who march at its side will not exist (any more).”

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against Anšan, the Median army rebelled against Ištumegu, took him prisoner, and delivered him to Cyrus II,126 thus bringing the Median kingdom to an ignominious end. Written records of the Medes are unknown, and no sophisticated artwork or remains of splendid cities, temples, or palaces from the Median kingdom have been discovered. Overall, materials left by the Medes are difficult to identify for certain, and what survives is unspectacular.127 References to the Median kingdom in contemporary Babylonian sources are almost nonexistent.128 To the Babylonian mind, it was impossible to imagine the Medes as temple builders,129 and for a contemporary envoy from Babylon, staying at the court of the Median king in Agamtanu/​ Ecbatana would presumably have been a rather boorish experience.130

43.3.  The kingdom of Mannea, and the Cimmerians and Scythians According to Assyrian and Urartian sources, a number of kingdoms existed in the area between the territories of Urartu and the lands of the Medes, in what are today the Iranian provinces of Western Azerbaijan, Eastern Azerbaijan, and northern Kurdistan province. Over the course of the eighth century bc, one of these kingdoms came to surpass all others, most importantly due to the stubborn resistance it mounted against Assyria and Urartu, the superpowers of the day. This kingdom was called Munna, Mannaš, or “Mannean land” (māt Mannāya) in the Assyrian

126. According to a Babylonian chronicle: Grayson 1975: 106: Chronicle 7: ii 1–​4; Glassner 2004: 234–​235: Chronicle 26: ii 1–​4. 127. Cf. Kroll 2003; Rollinger 2003b; Sarraf 2003; Stronach 2003. 128. Jursa 2003. 129. Schaudig 2001: no. 2.19: i′ 13′–​15′; Weiershäuser and Novotny 2020: no. 46: i′ 13′–​15′: “How then [ . . . ]? Will Ištumegu, king of the Umman-​Manda, rebuild the temple and allow [the gods of Ha]rran to dwell ins[ide it?]” 130. For a different view, see Parpola 2003, who based his assumptions exclusively on later Greek sources, all written long after the Median kingdom had ceased to exist.

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sources, and Mana in the Urartian texts. In modern scholarship, the toponym is usually standardized as Mannea. The exact meaning of the designation Mannean is unclear. The Assyrians and Urartians used this label to identify the lands, subjects, and possessions of the most powerful among the local rulers, whom they called “king of Mannea.” However, it is possible that other population groups in northwestern Iran, perhaps even most of them, were considered “Mannean” as well. If this is correct, then western Iran was dominated by two large ethno-​linguistic groups: the Manneans in the west, and the Medes in the east. However, the Manneans presently elude any cultural, ethnic, or linguistic classification. As far as we know, they never tried to use any script to record their own language. The stele found at Qalaichi Tepe (figure 43.5) near Bukan—​the only inscribed monument produced on Mannean territory, probably by Manneans—​bears an Aramaic inscription.131 A person named “Giki, interpreter of the Mannean(s),”132 is mentioned in an Assyrian text, but this does not help identify what language the Manneans spoke. Nor do the names of the Mannean kings resolve this question, since some of these names seem to be Old Iranian, while others are probably of Hurrian and Urartian origin.133 According to the Assyrian sources, three settlements—​Izirtu (or Zirta, Mannea’s capital), Zibia (or Izibia/​ Uzbia), and Armait (or Armetta/​Urmete)—​formed the core of the Mannean kingdom from the ninth to the seventh century bc, surrounded by several peripheral regions. The Mannean heartland was probably located near the modern Iranian cities of Saqqez and Bukan. No Mannean settlement known from Assyrian sources can be identified with any certainty, although phonetic similarity might suggest that Zibia should be identified with the Iron Age fortress excavated at Ziwiye (figure 43.6), where an Iron 131. For editions and discussions of the so-​called Bukan Stele, see Lemaire 1998; Eph‘al 1999; Fales 2003; Fales and Grassi 2016: 144–​150. For the pottery and glazed tiles excavated at Qalaichi Tepe (also known as Haidar Khan Qal’e), see Mollazadeh 2008; Hassanzadeh and Mollasalehi 2011. 132. Fales and Postgate 1995: no. 31: ll. 6–​8. Note also a certain Kubabu-​ila’i, “who masters the (Mannean) language”: Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 217: ll. 16–​18. 133. Zadok 2002: 19 no. 1.1.2; Schmitt 2009a: nos. 29, 57, 147, 153, and 157.

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Figure 43.5.  Multi-​colored glazed tiles decorated with various animals and hybrid creatures have been recovered at Qalaichi Tepe in legal and illegal excavations. Top: Tile decorated with a winged human-​headed bull, as displayed in the Museum of Ancient Iran of the National Museum of Iran, Tehran. Photograph by Karen Radner. Bottom: Tile decorated with a human-​headed bird with goats and hybrid creatures have been recovered at Qalaichi Tepe. Photograph courtesy of Yousef Hassanzadeh, National Museum of Iran.

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Figure 43.6.  The Iron Age fortress of Ziwiyeh, probably the Mannean center of Zibia. Photograph courtesy Iran Tourism and Touring Organization (https://​ www.itto.org/​).

Age treasure hoard that probably dates to the Mannean period was also found (figure 43.7).134 The Mannean territory was surrounded by Urartu, Assyria, and the Medes, as well as some small buffer states in between. The Urartians used the routes east and west of Lake Urmia, first to annex Mannea’s northern neighbors, and then to attack Mannea itself. In the ninth century bc, the Assyrians were able to reach the northern Mannean territories from the west by passing through one of three small mountain kingdoms. Moving from north to south, these were Gilzanu, which was annexed by Urartu at the end of the ninth century bc; Muṣaṣir with its temple to the god Haldi, a shrine of great importance for the Urartian kings (­chapter 44 in this volume); and Hubuškia, an Assyrian client for most 134. Primary publication of the Ziwiye Hoard: Godard 1950. On the problematic attribution of additional materials to this hoard, as well as the later American and Iranian excavations, see Muscarella 2017 (with literature).

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Figure 43.7.  A golden breastplate (pectoral) from the Ziwiye Hoard, as displayed in the Museum of Ancient Iran of the National Museum of Iran, Tehran. The object is usually dated to the seventh century bc; its decoration shows lines of hybrid creatures (German Mischwesen), including Assyrian-​style human-​ headed winged bulls and Egyptian-​style sphinxes advancing toward the “tree of life” depicted in the center of the object. Photograph by Karen Radner.

of the period in question (likely located in the Sardasht region on a tributary of the Lower Zab). Further south, the Mannean territory bordered on the Assyrian province of Zamua (or Mazamua), the small kingdom of Allabria, and the land of Parsua which, in 834 bc, housed no fewer than twenty-​seven tiny kingdoms. Still further south, the kingdom of Namri had close ties with Babylonia, but suffered from the Assyrian Empire’s expansionist ambitions until it became an Assyrian province in the early eighth century bc. In the late ninth century bc, the kingdom of Mannea was separated from the Medes by the kingdom of Gizilbunda,135 which

135. Frame 2021: no. 65: ll. 64–​66.

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disintegrated into a number of chiefdoms during the eighth century bc, the most important of which was Ṣibar (table 43.1: no. 7).

43.3.1.  First contacts between Assyria and Mannea As with the Medes, the Manneans are known only from records left by neighboring powers. According to the earliest information available in the Assyrian inscriptions, the region north of Zamua (Mazamua) and Allabria was known as Munna by 843 bc.136 However, when Dayyan-​ Aššur, the commander-​in-​chief (turtānu) under Shalmaneser III (858–​ 824 bc), invaded Munna in 827 bc, he encountered not one but three kingdoms in the region between Hubuškia and Allabria/​Paddira. Two of the local kings, Magdubu of Madahisa and Šulusunu of Har(a)na, submitted to him; however, the third king, Udaki, abandoned his royal city Zirta (later known as Izirtu) for the safety of the mountains. The Assyrians designated Udaki “the Mannean” and considered him the overlord of the whole region known as “Mannaš.” But since the other two kings seem to have reacted to the Assyrian threat with no consideration for Udaki, he could have been no more than first among equals. Even such a position came at a price, however. Udaki could not submit to the Assyrians as the other two rulers had done, since such an act would have reduced his supreme position to that of a mere “equal among equals”; an arrangement needed to be found that preserved the local preeminence of the king who ruled in Zirta. The following year, in 826 bc, Udaki too paid tribute, and in Shalmaneser’s inscriptions, Udaki’s kingdom was listed in first place, followed by the neighboring kingdoms of (Ga)burisa, Har(a) na, Šašgana, Andia and [ . . . ]bira.137 From that point onward, Munna or Mannaš usually appeared as the “Mannean land” (māt Mannāya) in the Assyrian sources, which we translate for simplicity’s sake as “Mannea.” In 818 bc, Mannea paid tribute to Šamši-​Adad V of Assyria (823–​ 811 bc). Afterwards he attacked the land of Messi (or Missi), further 136. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.6: iii 60–​62. 137. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 163–​ 171, 180–​ 183; A.0.102.16: ll. 298′–​316′, 329′–​331′.

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east, where he captured “countless quantities of booty, property, possessions, oxen, donkeys, sheep, teams of horses, (and) camels with two humps.”138 Apart from the unspecified “property” and “possessions,” this was the usual mix of booty to be expected from western Iran at that time, consisting almost exclusively of livestock. Unlike the Medes (section 43.2.5), the people further west trained “teams of horses” to draw chariots, which means that they were able to use this type of military technology. At least in this respect, the Manneans and their immediate neighbors occupied a position among the more developed regions of the contemporary world. Between 818 and 744 bc, the Assyrian Empire’s interests in the Manneans were limited. In 807 and 806 bc, during the reign of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc), two campaigns were directed “against Mannea,” and a further two in 800 and 799 bc were made either “against Mannea” or “against Media.”139 Adad-​nerari claimed to be the “conqueror” of a number of kingdoms in western Iran, including Mesu, Munna, and Andia, “which is far away,” but his inscriptions provide no details.140 According to the Assyrian sources from the late ninth century bc, both the Medes and the Manneans were ruled by kings at the time, but the local power structures appear to have been different. Whereas the Mannean king Udaki enjoyed some preeminence among the other local kings in 827 bc, the Median king Hanaṣiruka was left to his own devices in 818 bc (section 43.2.2). Over the next century, while the Median lands underwent a process of increasing political fragmentation, the kings of Mannea eliminated local rulers of lesser standing. This was arguably a result of the increasing pressures on the polities of northwestern Iran in the early eighth century bc, that resulted from the expansion of Urartu to the north (­chapter 44 in this volume).

138. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: ii 54–​57 139. According to the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle; see Millard 1994: 33–​34. 140. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.8: ll. 7–​9.

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43.3.2.  Urartian pressure on Mannea The inscriptions commissioned by the Urartian kings Minua, Argišti I, and Sarduri II report on several campaigns against “Mana,” as these texts call Mannea.141 However, the Urartian sources provide only limited information, and use their own set of geographical terms, which rarely correspond to the names used by the Assyrians for the same area. For instance, the Mannean royal city of Izirtu is never mentioned in Urartian texts, nor are the kingdoms of Andia and Zikirtu, despite the fact that both are well attested in Assyrian inscriptions as close allies of Urartu in the late eighth century bc. At the end of the ninth century bc, the Urartians came into contact with the Manneans in the course of the conquest of Mešta, a region not far from the southern shore of Lake Urmia. When the Urartian king Išpuini and his son and co-​regent Minua left Mešta to attack the region of Paršuai, they must have passed through Mannea, which was situated in between.142 Since there is no mention of Mana in the inscription of Išpuini and Minua that documents this campaign, the passage through, which was Urartu’s first contact with Mana, seems to have been peaceful. However, after Minua succeeded his father, he invaded both Mana and Mana’s eastern neighbor Buštu.143 For about half a century these two polities were the Urartian kings’ main antagonists in western Iran.

141. The close vicinity of Mana to the Assyrian border demonstrates the identification with Mannea; see the Urartian inscription edited by Salvini 2008: A8–​ 3: iv 35–​36. Further, this text mentions within Mana an area called Irkiuni that may be identical with the region around Urkiamun, a Mannean fortress according to an inscription of Ashurbanipal of Assyria; see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 35. 142. Salvini 2008: A3–​9: ro. 15–​20. 143. Salvini 2008: A5–​11A: l. 16; A5–​11B: l. 14 (Buštu); A5–​9: ll. 2–​3; A5–​10: ll. 5–​11 (Mana). Buštu of the Urartian sources is not to be confused with the settlement P/​Buštu in Parsua (Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: l. 186), nor with the Median chiefdom of Bustus (Table 43.2: no. 20), nor with the Mannean fortress of Busut/​Busutu (Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 35; see below, Itinerary 4: stage 2).

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The reign of Argišti I constituted the climax of Urartian efforts to subdue the Manneans. In the years around 770 bc, both Mana and Buštu were targeted directly or indirectly by no fewer than eight consecutive Urartian campaigns.144 According to Argišti’s inscriptions, vast areas were laid waste, with tens of thousands of people killed or deported, and huge numbers of horses, camels, oxen, and sheep driven off by the Urartians. This series of campaigns culminated in the sack of Šimerihadirini, a fortified royal residence of Mana.145 Argišti’s series of attacks yielded surprising results. While Buštu was never again mentioned in any sources, and therefore must have succumbed to the Urartian onslaught, Mannea not only survived but emerged from the ordeal stronger than before and well-​prepared to withstand the sporadic attacks leveled by Argišti’s successor, Sarduri II.

43.3.3.  Mannea and Assyria versus Urartu The unexpected return of the Assyrians to northwestern Iran in 744 bc, after an absence of at least fifty years, radically changed the situation. At the time, Mannea was ruled by Iranzu, a king strong enough to hold out against one of the great powers of his time, but certainly not both of them simultaneously. Mannea had nothing to fear from the Assyrians, since they had no territorial aspirations in the region. Of course, horses from Mannea were as welcome to the Assyrian authorities as any other equids they could lay their hands on, but at that time the Assyrian Empire’s routine supply of these precious animals was easily and amply provided by the Medes. However, only a few years earlier, the Urartian king Sarduri II had forced his way through Mannea in order to attack regions further south,146 where a stretch of what in later times was called the “Great Khorasan Road” connected Mesopotamia with Media. From the late ninth century

144. Salvini 2008: A8–​3: ii 49−v 40, cf. Fuchs 2012: 151. 145. Salvini 2008: A8–​3: v 40. 146. Salvini 2008: A9–​3: i 1–​12. For 750 bc as a possible date, see Fuchs 2012: 154.

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bc onward, this route became the Assyrian Empire’s main supply line for Median horses and as such was of the greatest strategic importance. From an Assyrian perspective, the easiest way to prevent further Urartian encroachment on this important area was to use Mannea as a buffer. In order to do so, Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc) had to win over Iranzu of Mannea and provide him with whatever support he needed to effectively fend off the Urartians. Tiglath-​pileser’s demonstration of the Assyrian Empire’s renewed strength when he led a campaign into western Iran in 744 bc was a first gesture in this direction, as his forces operated close to Mannea without attacking it. Iranzu correctly interpreted this signal and met with the Assyrian king in Sumbi, the Assyrian border region just south of his own kingdom. Since submission to the Assyrian monarch was the only way to come to terms with the empire, Iranzu kissed Tiglath-​pileser’s feet and presented to him “white, piebald, Haršian, (and) Har . . . -​ian” horses “together with their trappings,” as well as “majestic bulls” and “fattened sheep.”147 Even if we had no other contextual information, the composition of Iranzu’s gifts alone would be enough to locate the scene in western Iran. An agreement between the Assyrian Empire and Mannea was easily reached, from which both sides profited. When Sarduri II of Urartu invaded Mana again, he was stopped in his tracks before he could reach the Assyrian provinces further south.148 The fortunes of Iranzu and Mannea improved considerably when Sarduri II came under increasing Assyrian pressure and eventually suffered a serious defeat at the hands of Tiglath-​pileser. The relationship between the Assyrian Empire and Mannea functioned perfectly for about twenty years. Iranzu’s power increased until he became the most important ruler in northwestern Iran. He and his successors claimed supremacy over a number of polities further east, such as Andia, Uišdiš, Subi, Zikirtu, and Missi, whose rulers the Assyrian sources describe as mere governors of the Mannean kings.149 How the situation

147. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: i 15′–​20′. 148. Salvini 2008: A9–​3: v 7′–​25′. For 742 bc as a possible date, see Fuchs 2012: 154. 149. Frame 2021: no. 1: l. 102; no. 7: ll. 37–​38; no. 65: l. 80.

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was on the ground is of course unclear, but such references show that the Assyrian Empire supported the claims of its Mannean ally. In the late 720s, Iranzu’s comfortable position was seriously challenged by the Urartian king Rusa I, who adopted a new strategy. Instead of attacking every northwestern Iranian kingdom within reach, as his predecessors had done, he made efforts to win over the vassals of the king of Mannea in order to undermine Iranzu’s authority. The situation in northwestern Iran ca. 720 bc can be described as follows. Since the late ninth century bc, Urartu had safely established its presence in the plains and mountains west and south of Lake Urmia. Rusa’s main stronghold in this heavily fortified region was the exceptionally strong fortress of Uayais, located somewhere near the southwestern corner of the lake.150 Urartian forces had achieved military success east of Lake Urmia, where they had taken the district of Subi, “which the people of the land Urartu (still) called Mannea.”151 Nearby, in the valley of Ašqaya/​Ušqaya (formerly a part of the kingdom of Buštu, which had been conquered by Argišti I; see section 43.3.2), an Urartian border fortress of the same name was constructed.152 South of Ašqaya/​Ušqaya, the lands around Mount Uauš (probably Mount Sahand)153 were governed by three former vassals of Iranzu who had betrayed the Mannean in favor of the Urartian king: Telusina of Andia; Bagdatti, whose land of Uišdiš/​ Ugišti had once belonged to Buštu;154 and Mitatti, king of Zikirtu, now Rusa’s most important ally and Iranzu’s most powerful local rival. The territory of Zikirtu appears to have been rather large, and Assyrian forces never reached its capital, Parda. In modern terms, the territory of Zikirtu may have stretched from Mount Sahand northward to the area

150. Frame 2021: no. 65: ll. 297–​302. 151. Salvini 2008: A8–​3: iv 53–​55. 152. Frame 2021: no. 65: ll. 167–​172. 153. Mount Uauš was probably called Uši by the Urartians; see Salvini 2008: A8–​ 3: iv 56. 154. For Ugišti, see Salvini 2008: A8–​3: iv 55.

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of Ardabil. Further south, Missi was ruled by the “Mannean governor” Dayukku.155 As both Rusa and Mitatti were easily able to incite local revolts against Iranzu, the latter’s supremacy cannot have been popular or uncontested among his eastern vassals. The situation became all the more alarming in 722 bc, when the Assyrian Empire, Mannea’s powerful protector, was occupied with its own internal struggles due to the turmoil caused by the coup d’état that toppled Tiglath-​pileser’s son and successor, Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc). As soon as Sargon II, the new king of Assyria (721–​705 bc), was free to look beyond his borders, he hurried to northwestern Iran in order to help his hard-​pressed ally. In 719 and 717 bc, Assyrian troops besieged, stormed, and destroyed several Mannean fortresses previously lost to the enemy, and deported the inhabitants who had sided with Rusa and Mitatti.156 But Sargon’s efforts were limited and designed only to recoup Iranzu’s previous losses. He did not attack Zikirtu, and both the Assyrians and the Urartians avoided a direct confrontation with each other.

43.3.4.  Mannea’s role in the final showdown between Assyria and Urartu Just when peace seemed within reach, a series of dramatic events caused by the Machiavellian machinations of a ruthless Mannean prince drove the two superpowers, Assyria and Urartu, into the all-​out conflict that neither of them had desired. Iranzu of Mannea had died in 717 bc, and, with Sargon II’s backing, his son Aza succeeded him. However, his ambitious brother Ullusunu wanted the throne for himself and made an alliance with the enemy. The Urartian king Rusa was the only power able to provide him with the military support needed to claim the Mannean crown. This unexpected opportunity to remove the cornerstone of the Assyrian presence in western Iran with a single stroke was a temptation

155. Frame 2021: no. 1: l. 102. 156. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 58–​68, 76–​78.

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Rusa could not resist. In the winter of 717/​716 bc,157 he attacked Mannea on Ullusunu’s behalf, together with his allies, the kings of Zikirtu and Uišdiš. Aza tried in vain to stem the tide but was defeated and killed in a battle near Mount Uauš. Ullusunu thus won the Mannean throne for himself with the help of his father’s worst enemies, and at a steep price: he ceded no fewer than twenty-​two border fortresses to Urartu.158 The inevitable Assyrian counterattack followed in 716 bc. With no support at all from the alliance led by Rusa of Urartu, Ullusunu of Mannea could do nothing but follow the course of the invasion passively and in utter helplessness from the safety of his mountain refuge. Assyrian forces met no resistance when they occupied Izirtu, (I)zibia (perhaps to be identified with Ziwiye near Saqqez), and Armaet/​Armetta, the main centers of Mannea. But Sargon was at a loss about what to do next; attacking the Mannean mountain fortresses where Ullusunu and his forces were hiding was not an option, and the Assyrian king could not afford to leave behind garrisons strong enough to not only survive the hostile Mannean environment, but to withstand any Urartian attacks as well. At this point, both sides were open to negotiation, as they were well aware of the absurdity and great cost of waging war against each other’s natural and much needed ally. Sargon of Assyria and Ullusunu of Mannea soon came to an arrangement. After the inevitable exchange of hostages, Ullusunu visited Sargon’s field camp, where he submitted to him and was accepted as a vassal. The only question was who would pay for the crime of killing Ullusunu’s brother Aza, but the two practically minded monarchs found a solution that suited both of them. The blame was laid not on Ullusunu, the real culprit, but on one of his former supporters, Bagdatti of Uišdiš, who was flayed alive one or two years later

157. In November/​December 717 bc, the Manneans sent horses to Assyria (Fales and Postgate 1995: no. 68), and therefore either Aza, or perhaps even Iranzu, must have been still alive at that time. 158. Ullusunu’s coup d’état is recorded in the annals of Sargon II of Assyria: Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 78–​90.

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at Mount Uauš, the scene of his alleged crime. With his execution, the requirements of justice were satisfied.159 Immediately after Mannea renewed its alliance with Assyria, in 716 bc, Sargon II established two new provinces in western Iran that gave him easier access to Media (section 43.2.3). The only way to shield his Iranian possessions against further Urartian encroachment, however, was to use Mannea as a buffer, although it was weakened by recent, unhappy developments and in its then state was in no position to protect Assyria’s eastern territories against the coalition led by Rusa of Urartu. In order to stabilize the Assyrian position in western Iran, Sargon brought all his might to bear on weakening Ullusunu’s enemies, one after another. In 715 bc the Assyrians devastated several border districts controlled by Rusa and his ally Telusina, the ruler of Andia. Another Urartian ally, Dayukku of Missi, was captured alive, and Ullusunu was able to reclaim the border fortresses that he had ceded to Rusa two years earlier as the price of his throne.160 Much had been accomplished on behalf of the Mannean ally, and Sargon commemorated his deeds on a stele set up in the Mannean center of Izirtu,161 but this was still not enough. Rusa had been very cautious, and both he and Mitatti of Zikirtu had maintained their military strength, which they would unleash on Ullusunu again. In preparation for the following year’s offensive, the Mannean fortress of Panziš (or Pazaši) “on (the border with) the lands Zikirtu and Andia,” was chosen to serve as a supply depot for “barley, oil, [wine] and battle gear” (figure 43.3: E).162 In 714 bc, Sargon outwitted the Urartians by feigning a retreat and then mounting a surprise attack on Mitatti of Zikirtu. Rusa’s hurried attempt to come to the rescue of his most valuable ally ended in a crushing Urartian defeat near Mount Uauš. Paradoxically, Rusa’s

159. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 82–​83. 160. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 101–​108. 161. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 108–​109. The stele is presently unknown and may well have been lost in antiquity. 162. Frame 2021: no. 37; no. 65: ll. 76–​78.

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humiliation was Mitatti’s salvation. Instead of marching against Parda, the capital of Zikirtu, Sargon took the opportunity to damage Rusa, his main enemy, by laying waste to the Urartian provinces around Lake Urmia.163 The relationship between the Assyrian Empire and Mannea improved steadily. In 714 bc, at the start of the campaign to northwestern Iran, Sargon bestowed exceptional honors on Ullusunu and his Mannean magnates: I set out a table before Ullusunu, the king, their lord, and (thereby) elevated his throne above that of Iranzu, the father who had begotten him. I had them sit at a festive table with the people of Assyria, and they (then) blessed my kingship in the presence of the god Aššur and the gods of their own land.164 This passage is the only reference to Mannean gods attested in the Assyrian sources. The ring of buildings surrounding the top of Zendan-​e Suleiman’s brooding mountain peak may well have been an important Mannean sanctuary (figure 43.8),165 although there is no evidence in the available written sources to confirm this. At the next encounter between Sargon and the king of Mannea in 713 bc, an even higher level of cordiality and mutual trust was reached. Now Ullusunu was so sure of the favor he enjoyed that he did not even demand the usual exchange of hostages before he entered the Assyrian camp. Sargon replied graciously to Ullusunu’s homage and his tribute payments: “I clothed him in a linen garment with multi-​colored trim. I fastened inlaid bracelets on his two wrists, [whereupon] he joyfully returned to his (own) land.”166 Seemingly free of any moral inhibitions,

163. For the details of this campaign, see Fuchs 2018. 164. Frame 2021: no. 65: ll. 62–​63. 165. Naumann 1977: 21–​29. 166. Frame 2021: no. 82: v 57′–​59′.

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Ullusunu of Mannea was one of the cleverest and most ruthless political leaders of his time. By changing allegiance not once but twice, he played a deadly game of high risk, but all of his dangerous plans succeeded perfectly. He successfully exploited two superpowers and drove them into a full-​blown war for two years, from which he profited even more than his Assyrian overlord. Whereas Sargon secured his provinces in western Iran at high cost, Ullusunu gained the Mannean throne for himself at the expense of the appointed heir, his unlucky brother Aza. As a result, his position vis-​à-​vis the Assyrian Empire was far better than his father Iranzu’s had ever been, and the alliance between his local enemies ceased to exist. As a token of his good intentions, the king of Zikirtu delivered Rusa’s envoys to Sargon of Assyria, and the king of Andia sent his crown prince along with a present of fifty-​one horses.167 However, by submitting to Sargon, both kings snubbed Ullusunu’s claim to be their rightful overlord. This affront may have had local consequences, but any details are unknown since, after 714 bc, Assyrian sources rarely provide any information about the lands east of Mannea.168

43.3.5.  New players on the scene: the Cimmerians In the late seventh century bc, new actors entered the stage. The advent of the Cimmerians (probably surplus warriors from the Caucasus region and modern Ukraine),169 and later the Scythians, was a harbinger of the more powerful and destructive invasions from the steppes that were to plague the Near East for many centuries. The Cimmerians (or Gimirāyê, as the Assyrians called them) first appeared in Guriania, a northern region whose king paid tribute to

167. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 169 and 171; see also Fales and Postgate 1995: no. 31: rev. 1–​2. 168. A letter from Sargon’s state correspondence may refer to a possible later attack on Zikirtu by either the Urartian king or Ullusunu: Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 45. 169. Lanfranchi 1990; Ivantchik 1993.

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Figure 43.8.  Zendan-​e Suleiman, perhaps a Mannean shrine? Despite its look, this is not a volcano: the ca. 100-​m-​high hollow cone was built up by the mineral deposits of the hot spring in its center. The buildings surrounding the top were probably abandoned once the spring was blocked and the circular lake dried up. A: Photograph by Ahadagha (March 2006), via Wikimedia Commons (https://​ comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​29313​740), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 3.0 (CC BY-​SA 3.0) license. B: Aerial photograph courtesy Iran Tourism and Touring Organization (https://​www.itto.org/​), adapted by Karen Radner; note that this image, taken at the height of summer in the 1980s, shows the site without the modern tracks created to enable easy access to the summit.

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Urartu.170 It was probably in 709 bc that the Urartian king Argišti II intervened, but he underestimated his new enemy and suffered a crushing defeat.171 This was good news for Ullusunu of Mannea, who took the opportunity to attack border regions controlled by his weakened northern neighbor; he even invited the Cimmerians to use Mannea as a base for further attacks.172 Meanwhile, the Urartians were at a loss as to how to respond to the extremely mobile Cimmerian enemy, and contemplated a variety of strategies: “Perhaps we can attack him, once there is more snow?”173 The Assyrians were just as pleased as the king of Mannea about these developments, which amplified the results of their victory over Urartu in 714 bc. As a result, the Urartians accepted their defeat and, as far as we know, changed their foreign policy and made no further attempts to harass Mannea or the Assyrian provinces in Iran. So, from their perspective, everything went very well, at first. Our information about Mannea from the inscriptions of Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) is his claim to have used Manneans in his building projects at Nineveh since 702 bc at the latest.174 Because his father Sargon had been a close ally of Ullusunu of Mannea and since, in his first years on the Assyrian throne, Sennacherib had campaigned in many places, but certainly not in Mannea, it is likely that these Manneans were not prisoners of war but a workforce sent by their king (Ullusunu?) in fulfillment of his obligations as an Assyrian vassal. Until 688 bc, there was no need for Sennacherib to engage in northwestern Iran. However, this situation did not last.

170. Guriania is attested in a letter from Sargon’s state correspondence: Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 92: ll. 5–​14; for its location see Potts 2014b. 171. Parpola 1987: nos. 30–​32; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 90, 92, 114, 173–​ 174. For a discussion of the date of the campaign and for the identification of the Urartian king involved, see Fuchs 2012: 155–​157. 172. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 84 and 131. 173. According to a report quoted in a letter from Sargon’s state correspondence: Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 145; cf. perhaps also no. 144. 174. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 1: ll. 71–​72. The inscription was written in or before 702 bc.

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43.3.6.  The Manneans, Cimmerians, and Scythians versus Assyria With the threat of its Urartian rival gone once and for all, and therefore no need for a buffer region, Mannea lost most of its strategic value to the Assyrian Empire. For the same reason, the Manneans no longer needed Assyrian protection. As a consequence, they must have seen the fulfillment of imperial demands as increasingly tiresome and unnecessary, the more so as their Cimmerian friends, who had been so helpful in neutralizing Urartu, not only provided protection but offered entirely new and promising prospects as well. When another group of raiders and warriors, the Scythians (or Iškuzāyê, as they are called in Assyrian texts)175 appeared on the scene, perhaps during the later years of Sennacherib’s reign, they were welcomed in Mannea as heartily as the Cimmerians before them. At that time, Mannea was ruled by Ahšeri, whose family relationship, if any, with his predecessor Ullusunu is unknown. With so many useful allies at hand, the Mannean king felt strong enough to turn against the Assyrians, and he appears in Assyrian sources as an enemy of Sennacherib, Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc), and Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc).176 The second quarter of the seventh century bc was a great time for Ahšeri’s Manneans, as well as the Cimmerian and Scythian troops. Ahšeri captured at least three Assyrian border fortresses in the 670s bc, which the Assyrians were not able to recover until much later in the 650s bc.177 On the Iranian Plateau, Assyrian governors charged with collecting horse tribute from the Medes were in acute danger of being waylaid by Manneans, Cimmerians, or Scythians.178 Moreover, Assyrian authorities feared that the hostile Median chief Kaštaritu of Kar-​Kašši might get

175. The arguments of Zadok 2018 against the traditional identification of the Iškuzāya with the Scythians are not convincing. 176. According to Ashurbanipal, Ahšeri “had never bowed down to the kings, my ancestors”; see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 16–​18. 177. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 69–​72. For Šarru-​iqbi, see Starr 1990: no. 29. 178. As evidenced by a number of oracle queries: Starr 1990: nos. 65–​66 and 71.

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support from the Manneans, the Cimmerians, or both (section 43.2.7).179 Assyrian troops operating in the vicinity of Mannea had to be cautious and selected their campsites with special care,180 most likely in order to be safe from night attacks (see below, Itinerary 4: stage 1). Ahšeri was also able to spoil Assyrian military operations in the mountain regions between the empire’s territories and his own kingdom,181 and messengers traveling between Assyria and the kingdom of Hubuškia ran the risk of falling into hostile Mannean, Cimmerian, or Scythian hands.182 Even Assyrian territories found themselves under attack, and at least two raids are described in some detail by the shocked Assyrians, who asked their gods if further incursions of the same kind would need to be reckoned with. A Cimmerian and/​or Scythian attack on the Assyrian provinces Bit-​Hamban and Parsua (Parsumaš) took place far from the heartland in western Iran.183 But one particularly daring raid hit the very center of the Assyrian Empire. In a swift and totally unexpected move, “the Scythians, which had been staying in the district of Mannea” invaded first the client kingdom of Hubuškia, and then entered Assyrian territory, passing through Anisu(s) and Harrania on the Lower Zab184 before bursting right into the midst of the Assyrian capital cities. The most likely place where they took “much plunder and heavy booty from the territory of Assyria,”185 was the small city of Milqia (modern Ankawa, today a suburb of Erbil), located close to the important center of Arbela (modern Erbil). At Milqia, Esarhaddon and

179. Starr 1990: nos. 42–​45, 48–​51, and 62. 180. As demonstrated by a letter from Esarhaddon’s state correspondence: Reynolds 2003: no. 4. 181. Starr 1990: no. 28. 182. Starr 1990: no. 24. 183. Starr 1990: nos. 35–​40. 184. For the location of these places and the identification of Anisu(s) with Qaladze and Harrania with Raniya, see Lanfranchi 1995: 136 and Radner 2016: 18–​20 with fig. B1.4 (map). 185. Starr 1990: no. 23.

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Ashurbanipal later (re)built the New Year Festival (akītu) house, and Ashurbanipal stated explicitly in his inscription that he did so “in distress and weeping, because the enemy had desecrated it.”186 Fortunately, the attacking Scythian horde must have been of rather modest size and strength since it did not choose to attack nearby Arbela. This daring Scythian foray into the Assyrian heartland may have ended in disaster for its perpetrators. Esarhaddon’s inscriptions report a victory against a joint force of Manneans and Scythians, in the course of which the Assyrian troops killed a Scythian leader called Išpakaia, “an ally, who could not save him” (i.e., Ahšeri).187 If Išpakaia was indeed the leader of the attack against Milqia, Assyrian troops probably caught up with the raiders and fell upon them when they were on their way back across the Zagros Mountains. Of course, the Assyrian Empire did not sit idly in the face of these developments and did not restrict itself to maintaining a defensive posture. Information was gathered188 and plans were developed to recover lost fortresses and to counter the enemy’s moves.189 However, neither Esarhaddon nor Ashurbanipal considered the Cimmerian and Scythian nuisance and the insolence of Ahšeri of Mannea to warrant a full-​scale invasion of northwestern Iran. Before an army of even modest size was put at risk, diplomatic measures were taken to isolate Ahšeri from his Scythian and Cimmerian allies. In order to win over the Scythian king Partatua, a marriage between him and one of Esarhaddon’s daughters was considered.190 It is unknown whether this idea was ever put into

186. Esarhaddon: Leichty 2011: no. 54: rev. 20–​24. Ashurbanipal: Novotny and Jeffers 2021: no. 185: ll. 6–​9. 187. Leichty 2011: no. 2: ii 20–​23 (composed before 676 bc). Ahšeri is not mentioned by name, but based on the context, it must be he whom his ally could not save. 188. Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: nos. 15 and 71. 189. Starr 1990: nos. 30–​32, 267–​269. 190. Starr 1990: no. 20.

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practice, as for unknown reasons, no further contacts between Assyrians and Scythians are recorded after the reign of Esarhaddon. There is no evidence in the Assyrian or Babylonian sources of the seventh century bc that the Scythians ever dominated the Near East, as recorded by Herodotus (section 43.2.8).191 Whereas the Scythians always acted as a single group, at least four different groups of Cimmerians operated independently from each other in the 670s bc in several parts of the Near East—​some as raiders (like the Scythians), others as soldiers of fortune, seeking employment as auxiliaries or mercenaries. In western Iran, one of these groups, the Indareans,192 cooperated with Ahšeri of Mannea and used his realm as a base for their raids. Much further west, another group harassed Central Anatolia and Cilicia but eventually lost its leader Teušpa in a battle against Assyrian troops.193 At the same time, a third group served in the Assyrian Empire’s armed forces, some of them even in Esarhaddon’s palace guard.194 Meanwhile, a fourth group of Cimmerians fought as auxiliary troops in the service of the Urartian king.195 Somewhat later, in the third quarter of the seventh century bc, however, either Cimmerians or Scythians, or perhaps both, were involved in the destruction of a number of Urartian fortresses.196 The Cimmerians had certainly left their former homes somewhere beyond the Caucasus for primarily economic reasons, seeking to pillage

191. But note Jansen-​Winkeln 2019, who argues, especially from the vantage point of the Egyptian sources, for the reliability of Herodotus’s narrative and for a Scythian invasion around or shortly after 640 bc. 192. Parpola 1993: no. 111: rev. 17. 193. Starr 1990: no. 1 (attack on Melid/​Milidia, modern Malatya), no. 17 (attack on Hilakku, a part of Cilicia); Leichty 2011: no. 2: ii 1–​4 (on their leader Teušpa; composed before 676 bc). 194. Starr 1990: nos. 139, 142 and 144; see also Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: nos. 16 and 95. Note that among these lists of palace guards, there is no mention of any Scythians. 195. Starr 1990: no. 18. 196. Hellwag 2012; Kroll 2012.

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and plunder. Emotionally unconnected to local affairs, they simply fought for the highest bidder. The Assyrian Empire took advantage of this, and in 676 bc,197 following secret negotiations unknown to Ahšeri of Mannea, the Cimmerians sold their Mannean allies to the Assyrians. Esarhaddon could have easily sent an army to Mannea,198 had he and his councilors not been worried about the notorious unreliability of the Cimmerians. As foreigners from far away who were culturally very different, the Cimmerians did not fear the gods as the Assyrians understood them, and therefore Esarhaddon was told by one of his advisers: “The Cimmerians who said, ‘The Manneans are at your disposal, we shall keep aloof ’—​maybe it was a lie; they are barbarians who recognize no oath sworn by god and no treaty.”199 In order to lure potentially duplicitous Cimmerians into a premature attack by which their true intentions would hopefully be revealed, it was decided that small-​scale attacks by the cavalry and special troops should precede the advance of the main body of the Assyrian army into Mannea proper.200 As far as we know, Esarhaddon’s chief eunuch did invade Mannea, but since there is no mention of this operation in the royal inscriptions, he must have called off the campaign without having accomplished his mission, and before reaching the Mannean capital.201 It is obvious that Esarhaddon had indeed been duped by the Cimmerians, who accepted his bribe only to turn around and attack his troops. After this failure, the Assyrians postponed any further offensives against Ahšeri of Mannea until the dangerous Cimmerians were out of the way.

197. In the year after the fall of Sidon; see Parpola 1993: no. 112: ll. 13–​15. 198. Starr 1990: nos. 33–​34. 199. Parpola 1993: no. 111: ll. 12–​16. 200. Parpola 1993: no.111: ll. 9–​11. 201. Parpola 1993: no. 113: rev. 9–​10; no. 112: 8–​11 and 25–​26. The first victory against the Manneans alluded to in Parpola 1993: no. 111 was perhaps Esarhaddon’s earlier success against the combined force of the Manneans and Scythians led by Išpakaia, as mentioned above.

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43.3.7.  Mannea forced back into an alliance with Assyria For most of the 660s bc, nothing changed.202 Then, suddenly, the Cimmerians left western Iran for Anatolia, abandoning Ahšeri of Mannea. This provided Ashurbanipal of Assyria with his long-​awaited opportunity, and soon an expeditionary force was on its way to Mannea, following this itinerary:203

Itinerary 4 (sometime between 663 and 650 bc) 1. Ahšeri, who heard the news of the Assyrian invasion early, organized a preemptive strike against the advancing forces while they were still marching through their own territory. Undetected, Mannean troops infiltrated the Assyrian province of Zamua/​Mazamua, but their nighttime attack on the Assyrian camp failed.204 2. Undeterred, the Assyrian forces continued their invasion of Mannea. Between Zamua and Izirtu, the Assyrian expeditionary forces overcame eight border fortresses: Ayusiaš, Aššaš, Busut(u), Ašdiyaš, Urkiamun, Uppiš, Sihua, and Naziniri. 3. In the central district of Mannea, the Assyrian troops surrounded the fortified cities of Izirtu, Urmete, and Uzbia, but none of these cities succumbed to them. The Assyrians then turned southward: 4. In the area between Izirtu and Paddira, Assyrian forces attacked the fortresses of Arsiyaniš and Eristeyana. Rayadišadî, the Mannean commander of Arsiyaniš, lost his life fighting, but both fortresses held out against the attackers. 5. Not far from Paddira, the army succeeded in recovering Birrua, Šarru-​ iqbi, and Gusinê, fortresses “that were formerly within the territory of Assyria, which the Manneans had taken away in the time of the kings, my ancestors.” 202. Hunger 1992: no. 418. See also Starr 1990: nos. 268 and 295, which cannot be assigned to a specific part of Ashurbanipal’s reign. 203. Recorded in an inscription of Ashurbanipal: Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 16–​75. 204. For the Mannean invasion of the Assyrian province of Zamua/​Mazamua, see Altaweel et al. 2012: 14.

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The campaign was only a partial success. The Assyrians had managed to reclaim several settlements that had previously been lost to Mannea,205 and they certainly had ravaged large parts of Mannea with fire and sword, but not a single Mannean center had been captured. Most importantly, Ahšeri, who sat out the invasion in one of his mountain fortresses,206 was still king of Mannea, having weathered the Assyrian attack even without Cimmerian help. While the results of this invasion were disappointing, unexpected developments made further actions against Mannea unnecessary. Ahšeri’s rule was not undisputed. Twenty years earlier, one of Esarhaddon’s advisors had already expected that “the people of the Mannean king will turn against him and become the king’s (i.e., Esarhaddon’s) servants,”207 pointing to desertions that weakened Ahšeri’s Mannean troops.208 Some of the Manneans serving in Esarhaddon’s palace guard may have been such deserters;209 in any case, they must certainly have been enemies of Ahšeri. Therefore, the Mannean king relied on the Cimmerians not only to keep the Assyrian Empire at a distance, but also to suppress rivals and dissenters among his own people. Vulnerable since the departure of the Cimmerians, and now further weakened by the recent invasion by Ashurbanipal’s forces, Ahšeri fell prey to a rebellion:

205. Including Birat-​Adad-​remanni, which had been safely within Assyrian territory under Sargon II and was depicted as a conquered Mannean fortress on the wall decoration of Ashurbanipal’s throne room; see Reade 2001: 77; Radner 2016: 19–​20. For the possibility that this settlement could be identified with the settlement mound of Gird-​i Rostam, see Radner 2021 on the basis of a fragmentary inscribed ceramic vessel found there. 206. In most of Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions, Ahšeri’s refuge is called Atrana; however, in one case, the name of the fortress is given as Ištatti instead; see Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: iii 1. 207. Parpola 1993: no. 112: l. 22. 208. Parpola 1993: no. 111: rev. 13: “Deserters outnumber fighting men among the enemy.” This statement would seem to be an exaggeration. 209. Starr 1990: no. 144: l. 10.

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They cast his corpse into a street of his city and dragged his body to and fro. They cut down with the sword his brothers, his family and the seed of his father’s house.210 The rebels, however, failed to completely extinguish Ahšeri’s dynasty, and Uallî, one of Ahšeri’s sons, at last overcame them. In dire need of peace and powerful protection, the new king of Mannea submitted to Ashurbanipal, who imposed very moderate conditions. Uallî was spared the usual journey to Nineveh to pledge his allegiance and, instead, his heir designate Erisinni was allowed to take his place in the necessary ceremonies, accompanied in his travels to the Assyrian capital by one of Uallî’s daughters, who was “to serve as a housekeeper” in Ashurbanipal’s palace. The Mannean tribute to the empire was increased by just thirty additional horses, a ridiculously low number for Iranian horse breeders such as the Manneans, and a surprisingly modest punishment for so many years of violent hostilities.211 Ashurbanipal’s leniency was a measure of his relief at having solved the tiresome Mannean problem at last. The Assyrian sources do not provide any information on Mannea and the Manneans after Uallî’s submission, and we do not know, for instance, if his son Erisinni ever succeeded him as planned. The renewed agreement between the Assyrian Empire and Mannea lasted until the very end of both states. According to a Babylonian chronicle, the Babylonian king Nabopolassar “captured Manneans, who had come to their [i.e., the Assyrians’] aid” as late as 616 bc.212 These warriors fought far from their homes in the Euphrates valley, still honoring their country’s obligation to the doomed Assyrian Empire.

210. As reported in an inscription of Ashurbanipal: Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: iii 4–​10. 211. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iii 80–​92; no. 11: iii 11–​26. 212. Grayson 1975: 91: Chronicle 3: l. 5; Glassner 2004: 218–​223: Chronicle 22: l. 5; see Fuchs 2014: 40–​43.

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43.3.8.  Mannea’s end The much later inscription of Bisotun, incised on a cliff high above the “Great Khorasan Road” on behalf of Darius I of Persia (521–​486 bc), provides the only clue to Mannea’s fate. In 522 bc, the succession crisis in the Persian Empire encouraged local leaders to revolt (­chapter 55 in volume 5), and to legitimize their rebellions, they attempted to revive kingdoms that had been annexed by Cyrus the Great (559–​530 bc). In western Iran, there were two such attempts, in Media and in Sagartia, but tellingly, no such attempt was made to revive the kingdom of Mannea. Since the rebel leaders in Sagartia and Media both claimed to be descendants of Cyaxares, the founder of the Median kingdom (section 43.2.9),213 the former kingdoms of Sagartia and Media must have been closely connected before Cyrus’s times. It is phonetically plausible to suggest that Sagartia in the Bisotun inscription and Zikirtu in the Assyrian sources should be identified with each other.214 If this is accepted, then we may construct a plausible narrative for Mannea’s end at the end of the seventh century bc. In the eighth and seventh centuries bc, Mannea was the most important polity in northwestern Iran, but it was certainly not a great power on a level with Urartu or Assyria. Without foreign help, the Manneans always had trouble with these neighboring, more aggressive states. Stubbornly but with considerable difficulty, the realm was able to withstand the attacks of Argišti I of Urartu, to whom its eastern neighbor Buštu had succumbed. But whenever Mannea was invaded by Assyrian forces, whether under Shalmaneser III, Sargon II, or Ashurbanipal, the Mannean kings had no choice but to seek refuge in the mountains. If Mannea came under serious threat, a protector was needed. It was not King Ahšeri but his alliance with Cimmerian and Scythian warrior groups that kept Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal at bay; and it was neither Iranzu nor Ullusunu who defeated the dangerous alliance between

213. Malbran-​Labat 1994: 97–​99: §22 and §26; Schmitt 2009b: 52–​61: §24 B–​E and §33 B–​E; also Kuhrt 2007: 144 §24, 146 §33. 214. Cf. the discussion in Potts 2014a: 103–​105.

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Urartu and Zikirtu, but the troops of Sargon II. At the end of the seventh century bc, Mannea was as close an ally or vassal of the Assyrian king in Nineveh as ever. But by this time, the Assyrian Empire was reeling under relentless Babylonian attacks, and the once powerful protector of Mannea was unable to provide it with any support. On the assumption that Zikirtu was the same as Sagartia, we can postulate the following scenario. Without Assyrian protection, the Manneans were in no position to withstand an alliance between Zikirtu, their old enemy, and the newly emerged Median power. After the kingdom had fallen, the surviving Mannean troops withdrew across the Zagros Mountains and joined the forces of Sîn-​šarru-​iškun of Assyria (626–​612 bc), fighting for him as late as 616 bc, as the reference in the Babylonian chronicle demonstrates. They did so presumably in the hope that once the Assyrian king had subdued Nabopolassar’s Babylonian invaders, he would help them to win back their own lost kingdom. None of this happened, however, and the Assyrian Empire suffered the same complete annihilation that Mannea had experienced. A century later, in 522 bc when, for a brief time in the aftermath of the sudden death of Cambyses (530–​522 bc), the Persian Empire seemed at the brink of disintegration, there was simply not enough left of Mannea, either in substance or as a memory, for a viable attempt to revive this kingdom that had profoundly shaped western Iranian politics in past centuries.

43.3.9.  The Cimmerians in Anatolia The fate of the Cimmerians was quite different from that of Mannea. Since their first appearance in the historical records of the Assyrian Empire in the late eighth century, the Cimmerians had been organized into various groups (section 43.3.6) that operated independently of each other across a vast area that stretched far beyond Assyria’s northern borders from the Iranian Plateau deep into Anatolia. During this first phase, the Cimmerians came into contact with almost every local power in these regions at the time, most often as raiders but sometimes on friendly terms. Nowhere did they create anything resembling a polity of their own.

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This changed in the early 660s bc when, for unknown reasons, the Cimmerian group operating in Central Anatolia grew in strength and terrorized the entire area from the Black Sea to the Mediterranean, and from the Aegean to the Taurus mountains. Mugallu of Tabal and Sandašarme of Hilakku, formerly troublesome enemies of the Assyrian Empire under Esarhaddon (­chapter 46 in this volume), were now so hard pressed by the Cimmerians that they groveled before Ashurbanipal. Cries for help reached the Assyrian court from even further afar, from Gyges, the king of Lydia (­chapter 51 in volume 5), who desperately struggled to defend his kingdom against the Cimmerian onslaught.215 Ashurbanipal was well aware that the Cimmerian threat was the sole cause for all the flattering, tribute, and presents he then enjoyed, and he also knew that Gyges, Mugallu, and Sandašarme would change their minds as soon as Cimmerian pressure on their realms disappeared. Therefore, he took from them whatever he could, but kept them waiting and fobbed them off with promises of divine support from the gods Aššur and Marduk. Ashurbanipal was careful not to provide them with military support. From his perspective, it was sheer folly to confront the Cimmerians when he profited so much by their menacing presence in distant Anatolia.216 His position improved even more when the Cimmerian groups operating in the east withdrew from western Iran, most likely to join their highly successful brothers in Anatolia. As discussed before (section 43.3.7), this was the move that enabled Ashurbanipal to regain control over Mannea. When no Assyrian help materialized and the Cimmerian attacks temporarily eased off, Gyges of Lydia stopped his futile efforts to curry favor with Ashurbanipal. Perhaps in revenge for the Assyrian king’s indifference, the Lydian king sent troops to Psamtek I of Sais (664–​610

215. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 2: vi 14–​vii 12; no. 3: ii 63–​74, ii 86–​iii 4. Both texts were composed ca. 665/​664 bc. 216. Fuchs 2010. In 657 bc, in spite of an omen favorable to an attack on the Cimmerians, Ashurbanipal refrained from doing so; see Parpola 1993: no. 100, with discussion in Maul 2013: 303–​305.

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bc), who succeeded in freeing Egypt from Assyrian domination in 656 bc (­chapter 49 in volume 5).217 Around 645 bc, the Cimmerians suddenly resumed their attacks, more powerfully and more devastatingly than ever. When Gyges was killed in battle, his son Ardys resumed diplomatic efforts to secure the Assyrian Empire’s military assistance, again in vain.218 However, this time Ashurbanipal’s strategy of non-​intervention misfired badly. Ever since Mugallu of Tabal had submitted to Ashurbanipal, this kingdom had functioned as Assyria’s buffer against attack from Central Anatolia. At first, [M]‌ussi, Mugallu’s son and successor, continued his father’s relationship with Assyria, but when confronted with a new Cimmerian threat of overwhelming strength and without any support from Ashurbanipal, he changed sides and gave the Cimmerians free passage through his realm to attack the empire’s northwestern provinces. The driving force behind these developments was the Cimmerian king Tugdammî, or Lygdamis, as he is called in the Greek sources. In Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions, Tugdammî is a “nomad,” a “king of nomads,” “king of barbarians,” and “king of hillbillies,” a “presumptuous Gutian” (i.e., a mountain barbarian), and the “offspring of Tiamat,” mother of monsters.219 From the sheer number of insults directed at him we get a sense, not only of Ashurbanipal’s burning hatred for this enemy, but also of his inability to defeat him. Unfortunately, the narratives in the inscriptions that Ashurbanipal had composed in 638 bc are embellished with supernatural elements that attribute agency to the divine, and we can reconstruct the events only in rough outline. As punishment for his alliance with the Cimmerians, [M]‌ussi of Tabal was burned by the god Aššur “with a blazing fire” and his kingdom of Tabal collapsed when the local elite either fled or were carried off to Assyria.220 Between ca. 644

217. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: ii 113–​115. 218. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: ii 95–​125; cf. Fuchs 2010: 415. 219. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 13: viii 6; no. 21: l. 19′; no. 23: ll. 143, 146. For the identification of Tugdammî as a Cimmerian, see Fuchs 2010: 423–​424. 220. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 23: ll. 141–​146.

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and 638 bc, Tugdammî raided Assyrian territories twice. The Assyrian gods reacted to his first attack, and once more “fire fell from the sky and burned him, his troops and his camp,” whereupon Tugdammî “withdrew his troops and his camp and returned to his land.”221 Faced with a rebellion “of the people of his land,” he submitted to Ashurbanipal, who forced an oath upon him “not to infringe on the territory of Assyria.”222 The Cimmerians, however, were still the same “barbarians who recognize no oath sworn by god and no treaty,” as they had been during the reign of Esarhaddon (section 43.3.6),223 and the faithless Tugdammî attacked a second time. According to Assyrian belief, breaking an oath was a deadly transgression that rendered the culprit vulnerable to witchcraft and divine agency.224 When Tugdammî fell ill and died in great pain soon afterwards, the Assyrians interpreted his end as the result of divine retribution.225 But his death did not bring an end to the conflict. According to the latest report in an Assyrian source on the Cimmerians, Tugdammî was succeeded by his son Sandakurru (or perhaps Sandakšatru). Since an inscription of Ashurbanipal composed at some point after 638 bc praised the god Marduk for whatever befell him, Sandakurru’s fate must have been as gruesome as that of his father.226 The Cimmerians played no role in the downfall of the Assyrian Empire. The details are unclear but, according to Herodotus, they were driven out of “Asia,” i.e., Anatolia, by the Lydian king Alyattes, Gyges’s great-​grandson (­chapter 51 in volume 5).227

221. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 23: ll. 146–​151. 222. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 13: viii 21–​34; no. 23: ll. 152–​155. 223. Parpola 1993: no. 111: ll. 15–​16. 224. Cf. Radner 2019: 320–​325. 225. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 13: viii 34–​43; no. 23: ll. 155–​159; cf. Fuchs 2010: 416–​418. According to Str. 1.3.21, Lygdamis lost his life in Cilicia. 226. Novotny and Jeffers 2021: no. 224: ll. 25–​26. 227. Hdt. 1.16.

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43.4.  In conclusion At the end of the ninth century bc, Assyria and Urartu began to expand into northwestern Iran, a part of the Near East that was economically underdeveloped and politically fragmented in the extreme. At the end of the eighth century bc, these two aggressive states were joined by Cimmerian and Scythian raiding parties. As we have seen, the local populations reacted to these brutal challenges in markedly different ways. The rulers of the territorial kingdom of Mannea skillfully maneuvered between the contemporary powers, and time and again played them off against each other. As a consequence, Mannea rose to become the most important local kingdom in northwestern Iran in the eighth and seventh centuries bc. Its power base, however, was always limited, and Mannea never transformed into a great power on its own. Always surrounded by stronger neighbors and unable to bring local rivals such as the kingdoms of Andia and Zikirtu permanently under its control, the Manneans were doomed when their customary strategy for countering the threat of an enemy alliance by forging an equally powerful or even stronger counter-​alliance eventually failed. The history of the Medes, on the other hand, is characterized by sharp, and baffling, twists and turns. Hopelessly disorganized and constantly at loggerheads with each other, for no fewer than two centuries the Median chiefdoms and their leaders appear to be the helpless victims of Assyrian expansionism and exploitation. However, while the sheer size of the Median territory and the high degree of underdevelopment and chaos gave them little chance of resisting the Assyrian war machine, those same factors ultimately prevented the Medes from being absorbed into the Assyrian Empire. There is still no explanation for the rapid and entirely unexpected rise of King Cyaxares, who somehow managed to unite the Medes, very likely contributing to the destruction of the Mannean kingdom, and who turned the tables on the Assyrians, annihilating their powerful state within just six short years. After this brief burst of truly world-​changing activity, however, the Median kingdom does not seem to have played an active role in the history of the Middle East. Since the Medes did not leave behind historical records of their

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own, their short-​lived kingdom presents itself as a mute and enigmatic interlude between the empires of the Assyrians and the Persians. Finally, in the seventh century bc, raids by bands of Cimmerian and Scythian warriors in northwestern Iran and as far away as western Anatolia provide an early foretaste of the destructive invasions of the Huns and various invading Turkic and Mongol groups in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages. At the time, however, the Cimmerian and Scythian interlude had no lasting consequences for the Near East, as both groups left the region for good, without ever settling there. R ef er en c es Adalı, S.F. 2011. The scourge of god: the Umman-​manda and its significance in the first millennium BC. Helsinki: The Neo-​Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Albenda, P. 1986. The palace of Sargon, king of Assyria. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations. Alibaigi, S., Rezaei, I., and Beheshti, S.I. 2017. Najafabad, Sargon II’s stele, and Mount Urattus: the geological and archaeological evidence. ZA 107: 261–​273. Altaweel, M., Marsh, A., Mühl, S., Nieuwenhuyse, O., Radner, K., Rasheed, K., and Saber, S.A. 2012. New investigations in the environment, history and archaeology of the Iraqi Hilly Flanks: Shahrizor Survey Project, 2009–​2011. Iraq 74: 1–​35. Amelirad, S., Overlaet, B., and Haerinck, E. 2012. The Iron Age “Zagros Graveyard” near Sanandaj (Iranian Kurdistan): preliminary report on the first season. IrAnt 47: 41–​99. Botta, P.É., and Flandin, E. 1849. Monument de Ninive: architecture et sculpture. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale. Cole, S.W., and Machinist, P. 1998. Letters from priests to the kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Dalley, S. 1985. Chariotry and cavalry of Tiglath-​pileser III and Sargon II. Iraq 47: 31–​48. Da Riva, R. 2010. Another brick in the Median Wall. Aramazd: Armenian Journal of Near Eastern Studies 5: 55–​65. Eph‘al, I. 1999. The Bukān Aramaic inscription: historical considerations. IEJ 49: 116–​121.

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Rollinger, R. 2003a. The western expansion of the Median “empire”: a re-​ examination. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Roaf, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Continuity of empire (?): Assyria, Media, Persia. Padua: s.a.r.g.o.n., 289–​319. Rollinger, R. 2003b. Kerkenes Dağ and the Median “empire.” In Lanfranchi, G.B., Roaf, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Continuity of empire (?): Assyria, Media, Persia. Padua: s.a.r.g.o.n., 321–​326. Salvini, M. 2008. Corpus dei testi urartei, vol. I–​III. Rome: Istituto di Studi sulle Civiltà dell’Egeo e del Vicino Oriente. Sancisi-​Weerdenburg, H. 1988. Was there ever a Median Empire? In Sancisi-​ Weerdenburg, H., and Kuhrt, A. (eds.), Achaemenid history, III: method and theory. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 197–​212. Sarraf, M.R. 2003. Archaeological excavations in Tepe Ekbatana (Hamadan) by the Iranian Archaeological Mission between 1983 and 1999. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Roaf, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Continuity of empire (?): Assyria, Media, Persia. Padua: s.a.r.g.o.n., 269–​279. Schaudig, H. 2001. Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstandenen Tendenzschriften: Textausgabe und Grammatik. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Schmitt, R. 2003. Die Sprache der Meder: eine große Unbekannte. Lanfranchi, G.B., Roaf, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Continuity of empire (?): Assyria, Media, Persia. Padua: s.a.r.g.o.n., 23–​36. Schmitt, R. 2009a. Iranische Personennamen in der neuassyrischen Nebenüberlieferung. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Schmitt, R. 2009b. Die altpersischen Inschriften der Achaimeniden: editio minor mit deutscher Übersetzung. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Starr, I. 1990. Queries to the sungod: divination and politics in Sargonid Assyria. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Stronach, D. 2003. Independent Media: archaeological notes from the homeland. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Roaf, M., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), Continuity of empire (?): Assyria, Media, Persia. Padua: s.a.r.g.o.n., 233–​248. Tadmor, H., and Yamada, S. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–​722 BC), kings of Assyria. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Van Buylaere, G. 2009. “I feared the snow and turned back.” Studia Orientalia 106: 295–​306.

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Weiershäuser, F., and Novotny, J. 2020. The royal inscriptions of Amēl-​Marduk (561–​560 BC), Neriglissar (559–​556 BC), and Nabonidus (555–​539 BC), kings of Babylon. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. West, M.L. 2010. The hymns of Zoroaster: a new translation of the most ancient sacred texts of Iran. London: I.B. Tauris. Wittke, A.-​M., Olshausen, E., and Szydlak, R. 2007. Historischer Atlas der antiken Welt. Stuttgart: Metzler. Yamada, S. 2020. The conquest and reorganization of the land of Zamua/​ Mazamua in the Assyrian Empire. In Hasegawa, S., and Radner, K. (eds.), The reach of the Assyrian and Babylonian Empires: case studies in eastern and western peripheries. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 167–​193. Zadok, R. 2001. On the geography, toponymy and anthroponomy of Media. NABU 2001: 33–​37 (no. 30). Zadok, R. 2002. The ethno-​linguistic character of northwestern Iran and Kurdistan in the Neo-​Assyrian period. Jaffa: Archaeological Center. Zadok, R. 2018. Iškūz(a). Aramazd: Armenian Journal of Near Eastern Studies 12: 49–​58.

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The Kingdom of Urartu Yervand Grekyan

44.1.  Urartu’s physical landscape The highland regions, which stretched eastward from the upper course of the Euphrates river,1 were known in ancient Greek sources as the “Armenian mountains.”2 The designation of this general region as a natural geological zone called the “Armenian plateau” or the “Armenian highlands” is well documented in the scholarship of the late nineteenth century,3 while modern scholars prefer to refer to it as “eastern Anatolia” or the “eastern Anatolian plateau.”4 1. While the two standard text editions by Arutjunjan 2001 and Salvini 2008; 2012a; 2018 (in five volumes) present translations of the Urartian text corpus into Russian and Italian, respectively, readers may find it helpful to consult the English translations offered by Birgit Christiansen, which are available online through the Electronic Corpus of Urartian Texts (http://​oracc.mus​eum.upenn.edu/​ecut/​), building on Mirjo Salvini’s editions and using his numbering system (last accessed November 2, 2021). The chapter was language-​edited by Denise Bolton. Thanks are also due to Nathan Morello (LMU Munich), who systematically checked and updated the references to the Akkadian texts and their editions and provided some valuable bibliographical additions. 2. E.g., Hdt. 1.72; Diod. Sic. 2.11. 3. E.g., Abich 1882. 4. For a concise discussion, see Khatchadourian 2011: 466–​468. Yervand Grekyan, The Kingdom of Urartu In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0044

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Geographically, this region covers the territory lying between the natural barriers formed by the mountain chains of the eastern Pontus to the north, the Lesser Caucasus to the northeast, and the Taurus mountains to the south, rising to well above 3,000 m (figure 44.1). The Euphrates, with several important river crossings, served as a natural border in the west, while the southeastern frontiers of this zone, neighboring the Iranian plateau, are much more accessible and frequently served as the main entry point for invaders. The highlands themselves are divided by natural barriers formed by the Inner Taurus mountain chain, which divides the highlands into northern and southern zones, and the Kotur Mountains—​the continuation of the northern Zagros chain that serves as a watershed between the Lake Van and Lake Urmia basins. The average altitude of the highlands ranges from 1,850 to 1,900 m above sea level. The plains and river valleys lying between the mountains are high enough to be blocked by snow during the winter months and are the main areas of habitation. The highlands serve as a water catchment system for the Caspian Sea (the Kura-​Araxes basin), the Black Sea (the Çoruh river basin), the Persian Gulf (the Euphrates and Tigris river basins), and the two internally closed basins of Lakes Van and Urmia. The Euphrates and Tigris rivers are the two most important freshwater sources, not only for the highlands, but also for the plains of Syria and Mesopotamia. Water resources are distributed very unevenly. The highlands as a whole are situated in a zone well above the natural precipitation level of at least 200–​300 mm which allows dry farming. Nevertheless, fluctuations in weather patterns resulting in early melting and frequent months of drought and water shortage makes the construction of irrigation canals a vital necessity for viable agriculture, especially in lowland regions like the Ararat valley in Armenia.

44.2.  Urartu’s formative period

44.2.1.  The roots: Urartu as an ancient Near Eastern state After a two-​century long silence, Assyrian sources from the beginning of the early Neo-​Assyrian period onward again start to mention the lands

Figure 44.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 44. The following archaeological sites can be identified with Urartian toponyms: Arin Berd =​Erebuni; Armavir =​Argištihinili; Ayanis =​Rusahinili-​Eidurukai (“Rusahinili in Front of Mount Eiduru”); Bastam =​Rusai-​URU. TUR (“Rusa’s Small City”); Çavuştepe =​Sardurihinili; Gavar =​Haldiei-​URU (“The God Haldi’s City”); Karmir Blur =​Teišebaini-​ URU-​KUR.Wazae (“City of the God Teišeba of the Land of Waza”); Kefkale =​Haldiei-​URU-​KUR.Ziuquni (“City of the God Haldi of the Land of Ziuquni”); Odzaberd =​Teišebai-​URU (“The God Teišeba’s City”); Seqindel (=​Urartian Libliuni); Toprakkale =​Rusahinili-​ Qilbanikai (“Rusahinili in Front of Mount Qilbani”); Van Kalesi =​Tušpa. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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located in the southern parts of the Armenian highlands, generally known to the Assyrians as “the lands of Nairi.”5 The royal titles of Adad-​nerari II (911–​891 bc; ­chapter 37 in this volume) also include a reference to a land of Uraṭri/​Uruaṭri,6 which had previously been mentioned in Assyrian royal inscriptions as a region that had been first subdued by Shalmaneser I (1273–​1244 bc; ­chapter 32 in volume 3).7 It is not clear whether this land is to be identified with Urarṭu (henceforth: Urartu),8 a country that is frequently mentioned in Assyrian inscriptions since the late reign of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc; ­chapter 37 in this volume), who claimed that he conquered the region “from the source of the Subnat river to the land of Urartu.”9 The fact that the earlier inscriptions of Ashurnasirpal II use the toponym “Nirbu” instead of “Urartu” in parallel contexts (“from the source of the Subnat river to the interior of the land of Nirbu”) suggests a connection between these places.10 However, Nirbu seems to be a generic geographical definition rather than the name of a geopolitical entity, as this term means “mountain pass” in Assyrian and serves to designate the area of the Tur Abdin mountain range (Assyrian Kašiyari) with its various routes from the Assyrian heartland leading north into Anatolia.11 Its use in Ashurnasirpal’s inscriptions is likely to indicate an earlier stage in the Assyrian campaigns that would eventually lead his forces into Urartian territory.12 Urartu was raided several times by Ashurnasirpal II’s successor, Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc; ­chapter 38 in this volume), whose royal

5. E.g., Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 30. For a concise survey, see Salvini 2001: 87–​91. 6. Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 25. 7. Shalmaneser I: Grayson 1987: A.0.77.1: ll. 27, 40, 98; also mentioned in a fragmentary context in an inscription of Aššur-​bel-​kala (1073–​1056 bc): Grayson 1991: A.0.89.5: l. 11′. 8. Cf. Gaspa 2016: 445. 9. E.g., Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2: l. 13. 10. As discussed by De Filippi 1977: 30–​31. 11. As discussed by Liverani 1992: 37–​38; Radner 2006: 291. 12. Cf. Russell 1999: 30–​41, especially 32.

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annals report his defeat of Arramu (Aramu) the Urartian in his accession year, and again in his third and fifteenth regnal years (858, 856, and 844 bc, respectively). The sources also mention thousands of casualties in Arramu’s army, the conquest of his “royal city” Arzašku(n) together with the settlements in its environs, the destruction of other fortified cities, such as Sugunia, accompanied by the mutilation of the corpses of Urartian noblemen, and the capture of war booty and rich possessions.13 Shalmaneser III had episodes from his campaigns memorialized on the bronze bands of the temple gates of Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat), providing invaluable pictorial representations of the Urartian landscape and the Urartians themselves.14 Perpetuation of the king’s heroic deeds in the form of epic poetry, which may have been recited before the inhabitants of the city of Assur, speaks to the significance of these campaigns.15 The annals of Shalmaneser III’s twenty-​seventh regnal year (832 bc) report a victory over another Urartian king, Seduru, providing additional information about the might of Seduru’s army.16 The account of one of Shalmaneser III’s last campaigns, conducted in his thirty-​first regnal year, mentions the burning of fifty Urartian settlements, but does not name an Urartian king.17 Written information regarding Arramu and Seduru is restricted to the already mentioned evidence. Their names seem to point to the West Semitic linguistic world,18 and on this basis an Aramean origin has been attributed to them.19 Were the builders of the Urartian state Arameans? If there is solid ground for identifying Urartu with Nirbu, then it becomes clear that the region lying at this important crossroad clearly should have

13. E.g., Grayson 1996: A.0.102.1: ll. 29–​33; A.0.102.2: ii 47–​56; A.0.102.6: iii 34–​45. 14. Curtis and Tallis 2015: 71: L6, L7, R6, R8. 15. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.17. 16. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 141–​146; A.0.102.16: ll. 232′–​234′. 17. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 174–​180. 18. E.g., Fales 2002: 1099. 19. Salvini 1995a: 26–​27. But cf. Radner 1998: 132; Petrosyan 2019: 387.

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had a mixed population. It bordered the land of Šubria in the north, along the Tigris river, and the existence of a Hurrian-​speaking population alongside Urartian speakers should be beyond doubt. Nirbu’s immediate neighbor was the land of Katmuhu, clearly a Hurrian-​speaking country, as testified by the Hurrian names of its former kings. Moreover, Assyrian sources of the late second millennium bc mention the presence of new ethnic groups in Katmuhean territories: the warlike peoples of Kaska/​Abešlu, Urumu, and Muški, who conquered Katmuhu and other lands and controlled them for half a century.20 Although Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1076 bc) defeated them and counted them as “people of Assyria” (­chapter 37 in this volume), they still maintained significant populations two centuries later in the regions on and near the Upper Tigris, including the Muški people.21 Urumu is of special interest to us, as this place is mentioned in some inscriptions of Ashurnasirpal II, instead of Nirbu and Urartu: (I who) have gained dominion over (the regions stretching) from the source of the Subnat river to the extensive land Urumu.22 The same inscriptions describe the suppression of the rebellion of local Assyrians (“the men of Assyria”) led by Hulaya, their “city-​lord,” along with the (population of the) land Nirbu. As the royal inscriptions also testify, these Assyrians were descendants of earlier Assyrian colonists who had settled in these regions several centuries earlier. These colonies could have survived the disintegration of Assyrian political control over the northern regions, and one may count them among the Assyrians who possessed fortresses in the “lands of Nairi” but were subjugated by powerful Aramean neighbors.23 These fortresses may well have been the centers

20. E.g., Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: i 62–​88; A.0.87.1: ii 89–​iii 6; A.0.87.2: ll. 18–​22. 21. E.g., Grayson 1991: A.0.100.5: l. 121; A.0.101.1: i 74. On the Muški people, see ­chapter 45 in this volume. 22. E.g., Grayson 1991: A.0.101.40: ll. 21–​22. 23. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: ll. 94–​95.

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of small polities, comparable to the neighboring Katmuhu, which was a former Assyrian province that had gained its independence during the crisis years of the eleventh–​tenth centuries bc and was an independent kingdom in the tenth century bc when Aššur-​dan II of Assyria (934–​912 bc; ­chapter 37 in this volume) conquered it and replaced its ruler with a candidate loyal to him.24 The kingdom of Idu, also a former Assyrian province located eastward on the Lower Zab, serves as another example.25 When comparing the information from the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III regarding territories ruled by Arramu and Seduru, it becomes evident that, in contrast to the lands of Nirbu and/​or “early Urartu” (in the region to the north of the Kašiyari Mountains, up to the Tigris river), the inscriptions of the Assyrian king refer to a more northerly placement for Urartu and ascribe much larger areas to the Urartian kings. The description of the campaigns of 858 bc mentions Urartu after Hubuškia and before the “Sea of Nairi” (probably Lake Urmia). The itinerary of the second campaign generally passed through the territories lying between Lakes Van and Urmia.26 During the campaign of 844 bc, Arramu was active in the southwestern parts of the highland; the texts mention, on the one hand, the “source of the Euphrates,” and on the other hand, list the deeds of the Assyrian king, who left his royal image on the rock faces at Bırkleyn (often called the “Tigris Tunnel”), thought by the Assyrians to have been the source of the Tigris. One of the Assyrian texts on the 832 bc campaign against Seduru mentions the city Unzumuni and the settlements in its environs. The same name, in the form Unzamuni, appears in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I among the twenty-​three lands of Nairi, stretching from the Euphrates to the Upper Sea, i.e., Lake Van.27 And, lastly, the late inscriptions of Shalmaneser III mention “the fortresses of the Urartians” between Muṣaṣir and Gilzanu.

24. Grayson 1991: A.0.98.1: ll. 33–​41. 25. van Soldt et al. 2013: 209–​213. 26. Salvini 1995b: 43–​53. 27. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: iv 74.

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The northward shift of Urartu was apparently connected to the growing pressure of the Neo-​Assyrian state. We find clear evidence of such a movement across the Taurus Mountains to the far north in cuneiform sources. For example, the inscriptions of Ashurnasirpal II describe the siege of a city named Išpilipria in Nirbu, where the population of the land tried to find shelter; the city was captured, the inhabitants were slaughtered, and the survivors were counted as prisoners of war.28 As it turned out, those who managed to escape from the Assyrians had to leave their homes and cross the Taurus Mountains. Almost two hundred years after these events, the Išpiliprians (“House of Išpilipri”) are mentioned again in the Urartian inscriptions of the seventh century bc as an important group in the internal organization of the realm (section 44.4.1). Together with the population of Nirbu, local Assyrians, who found shelter in the mountains, seemingly also moved to the north, carrying with them their Mesopotamian traditions. In that sense, the emergence of a completely new culture in the heart of the highlands, around Lake Van, was not accidental. This entailed a new administrative system of governance; new ways of organizing the society and economy, such as the large-​scale capture and use of prisoners of war as the main labor force; extensive storage facilities and mass production of standardized wares in state workshops; new concepts in architecture and palatial/​religious practices typical of the Assyrian court; the use of the cuneiform script; the introduction of royal ideology; and probably, steps toward lawmaking. The Early Iron Age archaeology of the Lake Van Basin, at least in its current state, does not provide any grounds for considering the indigenous, very simple communities there as the creators of these innovations,29 and it seems obvious that the region was penetrated by the bearers of a completely new set of ideas and approaches in many spheres of existence.30 It can be argued that, in the face of further Assyrian threats, the Urartians, along with other population groups in the region, including

28. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 15–​19; A.0.101.17: ii 48–​63. 29. Baştürk 2015: 6–​8. 30. Thus e.g., Köroğlu 2011: 24–​25; Reade 2019: 440–​456; Grekyan 2019: 244–​262.

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“northern” Assyrians, the Muški, and the Urumu, under the leadership of the military class/​ruling elite, migrated toward the Lake Van Basin and tried to consolidate there. Apparently, the local communities were helpless against the newcomers. The city of Tušpa (or Turušpa), sited on a rocky cliff on the eastern shore of the lake that was ideal for the location of an impregnable citadel, became the center of the new polity. On the walls of one of the earliest monumental buildings of the city, known as “Sarduri’s Fortress” (in German, Sardursburg), several inscriptions written in Assyrian language and cuneiform script are preserved (figure 44.2). These were left by Sarduri, son of Lutipri, who called himself “great king,” “mighty king.” “king of the universe,” “king of Nairi,” “king without equal,” “amazing shepherd, who does not fear the battle,” etc.31 Sarduri’s father, Lutipri, has been identified with Labturu, son of Tupusu, the king of Nirdun of the lands of Nairi.32 Whether or not this is correct, the land of Nirdun, in the Kašiyari Mountains and in the neighborhood of the lands Nirbu and Urumu, was also raided several times by Assyrian troops during the first half of the ninth century bc.33 Hence, their probable migration to the north, like the Išpiliprians and others, cannot be ruled out. As for Sarduri, son of Lutipri, he may have been the same person as Seduru the Urartian, although it is possible that they were different rulers who reigned in different periods. Sarduri’s connection with Arramu the Urartian remains an open question, and a change in the ruling house may also have occurred.34

44.2.2.  The first architects of the Urartian (Biainian) state The Assyrian texts related to the 832 bc campaign are the only sources that mention Seduru the Urartian. After more than a decade of silence,

31. Salvini 2008: no. A1-​1: A–​F. 32. E.g. Baştürk 2013: 69–​78. 33. E.g. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ii 13; A.0.101.1: ii 97–​100. 34. See, e.g., Melikishvili 1954: 201–​202.

Figure 44.2.  One of the stone blocks of the so-​called Sardursburg at Van Kalesi, bearing the inscription of Sarduri son of Lutipri, in Assyrian language and cuneiform script. Photograph by author.

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Assyrian sources mention another name: Ušpina,35 usually identified with Išpuini son of Sarduri, the new Urartian king. The early history of Išpuini’s reign is obscure. It is not even clear when and where he ascended the throne. It is strange that the cuneiform sources from early in his reign do not link him to the city of Tušpa.36 Initially, he did not bear the title “governor of the city of Tušpa,” a traditional title of the Urartian kings, but later in his reign he adopted it, perhaps a sign of some political changes. The cult of the god Haldi was apparently unknown to Sarduri, son of Lutipri, and in all probability was introduced by Išpuini (section 44.7.4). Moreover, the establishment of this new cult as the state religion may have been the result of another dynastic change. It seems that the Tušpaeans had to accept the rule of the new dynasty, retaining a certain degree of autonomy and ensuring substantial representation in state structures and in the state pantheon. It was a unique compromise between the Tušpaeans and their new overlords. Apparently, the state and the existing state structures were preserved during the shift of power from the “Urartian” to the “Biainian” dynasty. For the Assyrians, this change may have gone unnoticed, and they continued to use the name “the land of Urartu” as before. Meanwhile, Sarduri’s title “king of Nairi” was forgotten soon after and was replaced by the new title, “king of Biainili.” In contrast to Sarduri, Išpuini established an absolute theocratic state based on a Haldi-​centered ideology. Such a scenario makes it less possible to identify Sarduri, the father of Išpuini, with Sarduri, the son of Lutipri, a view that has sunk into oblivion due to the studies of the past century. An artificial genealogy is also possible. On the other hand, if we take into consideration the introduction and elevation of the cult of Haldi who, in all probability, was the tutelary deity of the ruling dynasty, then it would be logical to assume that the holy city of Muṣaṣir, the center of the worship of this god, could also have been the place where the dynasty originated. Other factors

35. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: ii 26. 36. Salvini 2008: no. A2-​6: A–​C.

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suggest that we should not rule out the eastern roots of the new dynasty, in the Lake Urmia basin, where an Assyrian source of the late eighth century bc mentions the “paternal houses” of certain Urartian kings.37 Other scenarios are also possible. Accordingly, the origin of Išpuini still remains unclear. Be that as it may, it is undisputed that Išpuini was the true architect of the Biainian state. Išpuini took a number of important steps, including the introduction of the cult of Haldi in newly conquered territories; the realization of large-​scale building projects, including civilian, cultic, and military constructions; the creation of a local scribal school; and the transition of the language of writing from Assyrian to bilingualism, and then to the widespread use of Urartian, perhaps as the language of the royal house/​the ruling elite or as a spoken language of the state. He also created a standing army, which he actively undertook to increase in size. His first military victories followed. One such victory occurred in the highlands against the land of Witeruhi, as confirmed by the discovery of a bronze chain, part of the war booty taken from Witeruhi, as the Assyrian inscriptions on its rings state.38 The most active phase of territorial expansion began when Minua, son of Išpuini, became co-​regent with his father. Indeed, the mention of Minua alongside the king aimed to strengthen the position of the royal house and secure the throne for the crown prince. During this period, Minua, unlike Išpuini, was never mentioned with a royal title, but at the same time the Urartian texts give clear evidence of the rising role of Minua alongside his father.39 During the co-​regency of Išpuini and Minua, the first distant campaigns were conducted in the north against the lands of Luša, Katarza, and Witeruhi, aided by Etiuni, a strong confederation of lands covering the entire territory of present-​day Armenia.40 In the opposite direction, 37. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 277–​278. 38. Salvini 2012a: no. B2-​7: A–​E. 39. Cf. the texts Arutjunjan 2001: no. 36 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​2, and Arutjunjan 2001: no. 33 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​5. 40. Arutjunjan 2001: nos. 31–​34 =​Salvini 2008: nos. A3-​4, A3-​5, A3-​6, and A3-​7.

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campaigns were also launched toward the countries lying to the west and southwest of the Lake Urmia Basin. One indication of territorial gains in this region was the conquest of the land of Gilzanu, an Assyrian protectorate. This occurred sometime after 828 bc, when Assyrian sources mention this land paying tribute to them for the last time.41 After the Urartian invasion, the Assyrians tried to regain control of Gilzanu. In 819 bc, they marched against the lands of Nairi (which here refer to the territories of northwestern Iran, around Lake Urmia). Assyrian sources mention the capture of eleven fortresses and the burning of 200 settlements belonging to Ušpina,42 apparently a reference to Išpuini, king of Urartu. In any case, this information does not indicate any long-​lasting success for the Assyrians. A unique Urartian bronze dated to the time of the co-​regency depicts a victorious battle against the Assyrian army and may have been linked to the Assyrian invasion.43 The growing influence of the Urartian state was exhibited when Išpuini and Minua made an expedition to Muṣaṣir, providing the holy city and its temple with luxury goods, herds of cattle, and flocks of sheep. A close relationship was established with another polity in this region, Inner Zamua. The Urartian kingdom now had a strong position in the Lake Urmia basin—​strong enough to make further inroads into northwestern Iran. Late in the co-​regency of Išpuini and Minua, perhaps at around 813–​812 bc, Urartian troops conducted their first campaign toward Baršua (corresponding to Parsua in Assyrian sources), a distant land in the central Zagros mountain range.44 Išpuini lived to an advanced age, and seems to have given up the throne in favor of Minua near the end of his life. Interestingly, in two Urartian building inscriptions, Minua figures as the person who founded cities and built sanctuaries, while Išpuini is mentioned only in the

41. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 180–​181; A.0.102.16: l. 329′. 42. Grayson 1996: A.0.103.1: ii 16–​34. 43. Belli 1999. 44. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 35 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​9; cf. Alizadeh 2020: 34–​35.

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“well-​being” formulae of the texts, where Minua asks for “health” from the gods for his father and for himself.45

44.2.3.  Issues of chronology The chronology of the Urartian kings is mainly based on Neo-​Assyrian sources that mention the names of at least nine Urartian rulers, whereas the Urartian sources refer to only two Assyrian kings. Excavations at Urartian sites have provided the names of additional Urartian kings, bringing the total of royal names to fourteen (table 44.1).46 Only four of those kings can be identified with certainty. These are: Išpuini (mentioned in one of the Assyrian royal inscriptions as Ušpina); Argišti, son of Minua (or Argišti I); Sarduri, son of Argišti (perhaps the second king who bore that name); and, lastly, Argišti, son of Rusa (or Argišti II). In all other cases, it is uncertain which king is meant in the Assyrian sources. This uncertainty increases where the four Rusas and four Sarduris are concerned, and in connection with the names of some other possible Urartian kings. We have no coherent information about the length of the reigns of most Urartian rulers mentioned once or twice in the Assyrian sources. Almost without exception, their own inscriptions, written in Urartian, contain no chronological data. Despite their length, the two longest inscriptions representing the royal annals of Argišti, son of Minua (figure 44.3), and Sarduri, son of Argišti, are only partially preserved, and do not differ greatly from other display inscriptions. Hence, even in these cases, the exact numbers of the regnal years of Argišti and Sarduri remain uncertain, and the possible dates of their reigns vary by over a decade in various studies.47

45. Arutjunjan 2001: nos. 40 and 42 =​Salvini 2008: nos. A5-​30 and A5-​31. 46. For extensive bibliographies on the history and culture of Urartu, see Zimansky 1998; Kroll et al. 2012: 451–​502; Çifçi 2017: 311–​341. 47. Cf., e.g., Fuchs 2012; Grekyan 2015a.

754 (?)bc

743, 735 bc

Aššur-​nerari V (754–​745 bc)

Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727)

Aššur-​dan III (772–​755 bc)

Issarduri of Urartu

Sarduri, son of Argišti

Sarduri (II), son of Argišti (I)

Argišti (I), son of Minua

Argišti /​Irgišti the Urartian

Shalmaneser IV (782–​773 bc) 780 bc

Išpuini, son of Sarduri (I)

Minua, son of Išpuini

Ušpina

Sarduri (I), son of Lutipri

Arame

Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc)

Shamshi-​Adad V (823–​811 bc) 819 bc

Seduru the Urartian

765–​735 bc

786–​765 bc

810–​786 bc

825–​810 bc

835–​825 bc

859–​843 bc

(continued)

Sarduri (III /​IV), son of Sarduri (II /​III)

Sarduri (III), son of Argišti I

Inušpua, son of Minua

Sarduri, son of Išpuini (?)

Išpuini, son of Sarduri (II)

Sarduri (II)

Arame (=​Erimena I?)

832 bc

Ar(r)amu the Urartian

Alternatives

D

Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) 858, 856, 844 bc

Urartian Kings and Their Regnal Years (reconstructed sequence)

C

Sarduri (I), son of Lutipri

Urartian Rulers According to Assyrian Sources (with dates of attestations)

B

Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc)

Assyrian Kings

A

Table 44.1  The Reconstructed Sequence of the Rulers of Urartu (column C), Arranged Principally According to Attestations and Synchronisms (column B) in the Inscriptions of the Assyrian Kings (column A), with Alternative Interpretations (column D)

783

A

Argišti of Urartu

708 bc

Ursa of Urartu

Issarduri of Urartu

673–​672 bc

652 bc

643 /​639 bc

Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc)

Ursa of Urartu

Ursa of Urartu

713 bc

645–​625 bc

685–​645 bc

714–​685 bc

735–​714 BC

620–​610 bc 609–​605 bc 605–​590 bc

Erimena, son of (?) Sarduri (IV) Rusa (III), son of Erimena Rusa (IV), son of Rusa (III)

Sarduri (IV), son of Sarduri (III) 625–​620 bc

Sarduri (III), son of Rusa (II)

Rusa (II), son of Argišti (II)

Argišti (II), son of Rusa (I)

Ursa /​Rusa the Urartian Rusa (I), son of Sarduri (II)

C

719–​714 bc

B

Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc)

Sennacherib (704–​681 bc)

Sargon II (721–​705 bc)

Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc)

Table 44.1  Continued

Princes or high-​ranking officials

Sarduri (IV /​V), son of Rusa (III or IV)

Rusa (III /​IV), son of Erimena (II?)

Erimena (II?, son of Argišti II?)

Rusa (III /​IV), son of Argišti (II)

Argišti (II), son of Rusa (II or III)

Rusa (II /​III), son of Rusa (I or II)

Rusa (II), son of Erimena (II?, son of Argišti I?)

Melartua, son of Rusa (I)

Rusa (I), son of Erimena (II?, son of Argišti I?)

Rusa (I), son of Sarduri (III /​IV)

D

784

785

The Kingdom of Urartu

785

Figure 44.3.  Detail of the inscription with the royal annals of Argišti, son of Minua, carved on the rocky surface of the façade of the king’s tomb at Van Kalesi. Photograph by author.

The order of succession of the Urartian rulers is also unclear, even if their inscriptions usually mention the king’s patronymic. Presently, it is beyond doubt that Išpuini was succeeded by his son Minua, who came to power after his co-​regency with his father, and Argišti, son of Minua, was succeeded by his son Sarduri. In the absence of reliable dating, the dynastic names used repeatedly by the Urartian rulers open the door for varying reconstructions. For example, the sequence of three kings bearing the dynastic name Rusa (namely Rusa, son of Sarduri; Rusa, son of Erimena; and Rusa, son of Argišti) is still a matter of debate, and thus certain actions that are attributed to one of them could have been performed by another, while the existence of a fourth Rusa (namely Rusa, son of Rusa) remains a possibility.48 We are faced with similar problems in the case of the four or possibly even five rulers called Sarduri, whose sequence and 48. E.g., Kroll 2012; Roaf 2012, Seidl 2012. Cf. Salvini 2012b: 133–​134.

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numbering varies in different studies. The identification of Sarduri, son of Lutipri, with Sarduri, the father of Išpuini, remains an open question (section 44.2.2). Some argue that another Sarduri (namely Sarduri, son of Sarduri) may have ruled during the eighth century bc, although he is usually considered to be one of the last kings of Urartu in the late seventh century bc,49 while some scholars exclude the possibility that he ruled at all.50 Hence, many aspects of Urartian history can only be reconstructed provisionally, and there remain a large number of unsolved chronological problems. But these qualifications should not cause undue skepticism in the reader. Fortunately, information from Assyrian sources is dated much more precisely and allows us to reconstruct the general sequence of the reigns of the Urartian kings. In particular, the Assyrian royal inscriptions form an important body of sources for the history of Urartu. Among these, some of the most important include the “Letter to the god Aššur,” of Sargon II, king of Assyria (721–​705 bc), that describes in detail his campaign against Urartu and its allies in 714 bc (­chapter 39 in this volume).51 As for the Urartian sources, there are currently about 280 monumental inscriptions and a larger number of other texts written on clay tablets and bullae, or engraved on bronze items and ceramic pithoi.52 Additional data are preserved in the Babylonian Chronicles and in the Bible (section 44.5). Urartu was unknown to the ancient Greeks,53 while early medieval Armenian sources usually attribute visible Urartian ruins and cuneiform inscriptions to the Assyrians and their queen Semiramis (figure 44.4).54

49. Kroll 1984. 50. Kroll 2012: 184. 51. Frame 2020: no. 65. 52. Arutjunjan 2001; Salvini 2008; 2012a; 2018. 53. Zimansky 1995. 54. E.g., Movses Khorenats‘i, 16, 21; for an edition, see Thomson 2006: 95–​97, 104–​105.

78

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Figure 44.4.  The so-​called Canal of Semiramis, located east of Van, one of the largest Urartian irrigation installations that runs over a distance of ca. 60 km. Fourteen Urartian inscriptions were incised along the canal, documenting its construction by Minua, son of Išpuini. Photograph by author.

44.3.  Urartu’s imperial period

44.3.1.  Urartu and the north: Etiuni and other northern neighbors Urartian campaigns in the northern regions of the Armenian highlands intensified after Minua came to the throne. The first territories conquered by Urartu in this area were in the land of Diauhi. After the capture of its “royal city,” Šašilu, by the Urartians, Utupuršini, king of Diauhi, appeared before Minua. He was obliged to pay tribute and was set free.55 For the Urartians, the control of Diauhi, a land of rich pastures, and many flocks and herds of horses, was important for the possession of its territories and also provided access to the rich mines and forests of the Pontus Mountains.

55. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 53 =​Salvini 2008: no. A5-​3.

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Argišti, son of Minua, conducted at least two major campaigns against Diauhi. The justification for these undertakings becomes clear from one of the Urartian inscriptions, which mentions that Diauhi “became hostile.” Utupuršini was still alive and continued to rule over vast territories in the north. He felt strong enough to advance with his army and give battle near the city of Ahuria, but his troops were defeated, after which Argišti captured Zuani, another “royal city” of Utupuršini. The latter begged for mercy and received forgiveness with the condition that he pay a heavy tribute. Argišti imposed yearly taxes that included livestock and metals and tens of thousands of minas of copper.56 After the reign of Argišti, Diauhi no longer appears in the cuneiform sources, probably due to its loyalty to the Urartian authorities rather than any decline or disintegration. In actuality, the main regional power in the north was the Etiunian confederation. The Etiunian frontier had special significance in Urartian foreign policy. Along with territorial interests, the Urartian kings tried to prevent consolidation processes in this area, which accelerated in the face of the Urartian threat. A striking example of this is the mention of a certain Diuṣini Iganiehi as the king of Etiuni, while at the turn of the ninth century bc Etiuni was known in the texts as having numerous kings.57 In Minua’s reign, Urartian troops campaigned against another northern country, Erekuahi, which stretched across the slopes of Mount Ararat, and conquered its “royal city,” Luhiuni. During the same campaign, the Urartian kingdom had its next conflict with Etiuni, whose kings had gathered together to come to the aid of Erekuahi. The large army of the Etiunian kings was again defeated and pushed back, and the Urartians allegedly captured 500,000 people. This is the largest number ever mentioned in the Urartian cuneiform sources. Etiuni was obliged to

56. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 173: i x +​2–​8; no. 174: A1: ll. 1–​28; no. 174: B1: ll. x +​26; no. 174 C =​Salvini 2008: no. A8-​1: l.d. 1–​27; no. A8-​2: vo. 1′–​26′; no. A8-​3: i 2–​8; no. A8-​7. 57. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 C: ll. 51–​52 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9-​3: ii 51′–​52′; cf. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 31: ll. 14–​15 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​4: ro. 13′–​14′.

789

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789

pay taxes. The victory over Erekuahi and the Etiunian confederation was memorialized in the long inscription carved on the walls of a newly built susi-​temple of Körzüt, a strong fortress of Minua.58 The Urartian-​Etiunian conflict reached unprecedented levels during the reigns of Argišti, son of Minua, and Sarduri, son of Argišti. The sources point to at least thirteen campaigns conducted against Etiuni and the incorporation of large Etiunian territories into the Urartian state. As a reason for the first campaign, the royal annals of Argišti mention that Etiuni “had rebelled,” perhaps by holding back its tribute. Another campaign conducted in 784 bc was the result of military aid provided by the Etiunian kings to Diauhi. The Urartian army passed through the territories of the lands of Luša, Katarza, and Witeruhi, closely linked with Etiuni, the lands of the tribe of Eriahi and Gulutahi, ending the campaign in the land of Abuni, on the upper reaches of the Araxes river. The result of the campaign was the annexation of the land of Luša. Another Etiunian land, Iyani, became a tributary state.59 During the reign of Argišti, son of Minua, the Urartian state was firmly established in the land of Waza (corresponding to the Ararat valley in Armenia). Two major military-​administrative centers, Erebuni and Argištihinili, as well as a chain of fortresses, were founded here, marking the northeastern border of the Urartian state. During the reign of Sarduri, Argišti’s son and successor, the territories of the tribe of Eriahi were also incorporated into the Urartian holdings. With this conquest, the north-​northeastern borders of Urartu were extended up to the Shirak Valley in northern Armenia. New campaigns were conducted toward Weduri Etiuni (meaning “aqueous Etiuni”), i.e., the lands situated in the Lake Sevan basin. After a century-​long struggle against Urartu, the former client kingdom of Witeruhi ceased to exist. A new Urartian province was formed in its territories and a governor was appointed. Urayani, the former Witeruhean “royal city,” was rebuilt and turned into a military base with a strong garrison. In the year of

58. E.g. Salvini 2008: no. A5-​2A: l. 3. 59. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 174 B1: ll. 27–​40 =​Salvini 2008: no. A8-​2: vo. 27′–​40′.

790

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Witeruhi’s annexation alone, Urartian troops captured 17,000 prisoners of war, around 1,500 horses, 17,300 large and 31,600 small head of cattle. The royal annals of Sarduri also inform us about campaigns toward the land of Qulha, usually identified with ancient Colchis, on the eastern shore of the Black Sea. If correct, this would mean that Qulha was the northernmost land ever reached by the Urartians, although the exact location of Qulha remains unclear; it would be established, however, if the inscribed stele said to be erected in Ildamuša (the “royal city” of the Qulhaeans) in connection with Sarduri’s northern victories60 is ever found. Interestingly, in the inscriptions of Sarduri, expressions like “I added (the conquered) land to my (own) land” or “I appointed a governor (over conquered land)” and “I built fortresses (in the conquered land)” occur frequently and point to the expansion of the Urartian state during the reign of this great king.61 Undoubtedly, the Urartian kings made significant inroads in the north. Nevertheless, they were unable to solve the Etiunian problem. The conflict between Urartu and Etiuni continued. Rusa, son of Sarduri, campaigned toward Weduri Etiuni (Lake Sevan basin). Two inscriptions left by this king on the shores of the lake mention the conquest of Welikuhi and twenty-​two other lands “in one year.” The Urartian territories here were considerably enlarged at the expense of four lands, lying near the western and southern shores of the lake. Two large, pre-​Urartian fortresses were rebuilt and renamed after the gods Haldi and Teišeba.62 The latest information about the military conflict with Etiuni appears in the inscription of T‘anahat, left by Argišti, son of Rusa, in southern Armenia, and the latest mention of Etiuni occurs in the susi-​temple inscription of Rusahinili-​Eidurukai (modern Ayanis).63 In summary, the “Etiunian policy” of the Urartian kings represented a struggle between two major highland powers and was just as significant

60. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 D: ll. x +​1–​46 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9-​3: iii 1′–​44′. 61. E.g., Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 E: ll. x +​15–​18 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9-​3: iv 15′–​18′. 62. Arutjunjan 2001: nos. 388–​389 =​Salvini 2008: nos. A10-​1 and A10-​2. 63. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 411 =​Salvini 2008: nos. A11-​3 and A12-​1 vi, respectively.

791

The Kingdom of Urartu

791

as the struggle against Assyria or, in other words, the “Near Eastern policy” of the Urartians.

44.3.2.  Urartu and the south: Assyria and the southern buffer states Whereas Etiuni posed a permanent threat to the core territories of Urartu, the limits of Assyrian interests usually did not extend north of the Taurus Mountains. Thus, the Taurus Mountains served as a natural shield for Urartu against threats from the south, and the lands in this area acted as buffer states between Urartu and Assyria.64 During the reign of Minua, the Urartians took steps to gain control of the passes through these mountains. To the southwest of Lake Van, near modern Bitlis, a strategically important pass connected Mesopotamia with the interior of the Armenian Highlands. In this region the Urartians conquered a city called Qutume and the land of Alzi, and for the first time Urartian sources mention reaching the borders of Assyria.65 Although Assyrian inscriptions from this period never mention Minua, or a confrontation with Urartu, it seems that Minua was the first Urartian king to cross the Tigris river and invade Assyrian-​held areas, such as the land of Izal(l)a (Išalani of the Urartian sources) in the western parts of the Tur Abdin mountain range.66 It cannot be ruled out that the silence of the Assyrian sources had the quite practical purpose of concealing Assyria’s failure. The activities of Argišti, son of Minua, in the Upper Euphrates region, and his efforts to firmly establish a presence there, did not immediately yield tangible results. The Urartian campaign toward Melid (corresponding to Miliṭia in the Urartian sources) was conducted in 781 bc (section 44.3.3) and was considered by the Assyrian court a serious threat against its interests in these regions. Interestingly, the Assyrian Eponym

64. Radner 2011: 743–​748; 2012: 243–​264. 65. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 44, no. 148: ll. 22–​26, and no. 149: ll. 20–​25 =​Salvini 2008: no. A 5-​9, no. A 5-​11A: ll. 22–​26, and no. A 5-​11B: ll. 20–​25. 66. Radner 2006: 292–​299.

792

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Chronicle mentions a campaign conducted in that same year against Urartu, and it is possible that this was Assyria’s response to Urartian attempts to move toward the Euphrates and beyond. In the face of the serious decline in the king of Assyria’s power and authority, it was necessary for the new king, Shalmaneser IV (782–​773 bc), the son and first successor of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc), to secure a victory. In his own inscriptions, Šamši-​ilu, the commander-​in-​chief (turtānu) of the Assyrian army and the de facto ruler of the western territories of Assyria (cf. c­ hapter 38 in this volume), reported a glorious victory over Argišti in 780 bc, while this failure of the Urartian king was passed over in silence by the Urartian royal annals: At that time Argišti, the Urartian, the number of whose forces is huge like a thick cloud and who had not stretched out his hand to any previous king; he rebelled and assembled the people together at the land of the Guti. He put his (forces for) battle in good order (and then) all his troops marched into the mountains for battle. . . . Šamši-​ilu . . . put a strong force of soldiers into those mountains . . . and defeated him. . . .67 Seeking to build on this success, the Assyrians conducted another campaign against Urartu in 779 bc. At the same time, the royal annals of Argišti mention a victory against Assyrian troops. The Assyrian-​ Urartian conflict shifted to the east, involving several political entities in northwestern Iran, the most important of which was the land of the Manneans, a stable kingdom of considerable size and power located south of Lake Urmia (see chapter 43 in this volume). The Assyrian Eponym Chronicle mentions at least six campaigns against Urartu between 781 and 774 bc. At the same time, the annals of Argišti record victories over Assyrian troops, and say that Urartian troops reached the borders of Assyria.68 The absence of Assyrian campaigns 67. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2010. 68. Millard 1994: 38–​39, 58; Arutjunjan 2001: no. 173: ii−v =​Salvini 2008: no. A 8-​ 3: ii−v.

793

The Kingdom of Urartu

793

against Urartu after 774 bc suggests that the Assyrians refrained from making further incursions and in fact left the Manneans to face the Urartians on their own. Surprisingly, the Manneans continued the fight against Urartu for a few more years, but their struggle soon ended, and with that a period of Urartian domination in the northern parts of the Zagros Mountains began. Early in Sarduri’s rule, the Urartian state continued to be the main political actor in the region. The Assyrian king Aššur-​dan III (772–​755 bc), brother and successor of Shalmaneser IV, conducted a few campaigns that only skirted Urartu. The data concerning the campaign of 754 bc of his brother and eventual successor Aššur-​nerari V (754–​745 bc) against the city of Arpad, the royal city of the land of Bit-​Agusi, correlate well with the information from the royal annals of Sarduri, which mention that king’s campaign against the land of Arme (the land of the Arameans, i.e., northern Syria) and the defeat of Aššur-​nerari V in that same year.69 Assyria’s restrained foreign policy during the reign of Aššur-​nerari and the revolt that broke out in the land toward the end of his reign reveal the empire’s weakness.70 Under Sarduri, the Urartians maintained their dominance in the region (cf. ­chapter 38 in this volume). In 744 bc, Tiglath-​pileser III of Assyria (744–​727 bc; c­ hapters 38–​ 39 in this volume), brother of Aššur-​nerari V and a younger son of Adad-​ nerari III, ascended the throne. His first aim was to isolate Sarduri from his allies. In 743 bc, Tiglath-​pileser marched into northern Syria and besieged the city of Arpad. The Urartian king responded immediately and hurried to the aid of his ally, Mati‘-​’el, king of Bit-​Agusi. With a huge army, he crossed the Euphrates and joined with his local allies, including Sulumal, king of Melid; Tarhulara, king of Gurgum; and Kuštašpi, king of Kummuh (­chapter 46 in this volume). The allied forces headed toward Arpad and encountered the advancing Assyrian army between the regions of Kištan and Halpi in the land of Kummuh, suffering a heavy defeat which compelled them to retreat. The Assyrians pursued Sarduri

69. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 DI +​DII: ll. 1–​16 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9-​1: l.d. 1–​16. 70. Millard 1994: 42, 59.

794

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and the remnants of his army to the Euphrates, but Sarduri crossed the river and was saved.71 In spite of this defeat and the fall of Arpad in 740 bc, Sarduri continued to support the anti-​Assyrian alliance of the kingdoms in northern Syria. In order to prevent any new Urartian intervention that could threaten his plans for Syria, Tiglath-​pileser III made Sarduri pay more attention to the protection of his own borders. In 739 bc, the Assyrian army attacked the land of Ulluba which was under Urartian control. Tiglath-​pileser III did not conceal the real object of the campaign, Urartu. In one of his inscriptions, he states that “[. . . I took] the road to . . . [. . . the land] Urartu.”72 To be certain, the Assyrian army could not penetrate into the Urartian heartland, but the campaign was successful, as it resulted in the annexation of Ulluba. A number of Urartian fortresses “[located] behind Mount Nal” (ša kutal KURNal) (perhaps Yassıdağı in the province of Siirt in southeastern Turkey) were also conquered and attached to the territories of the newly formed province of Ululba or were added to the Assyrian province of the chief steward.73 Resistance by the city of Kullania in Unqu/​Patin in the Amuq Plain of the Orontes estuary, which became a new center of the anti-​Assyrian struggle, was put down in 738 bc, shortly after the campaign against Ulluba. Dozens of western kingdoms gave up the struggle and accepted the obligation to pay tribute to Assyria, causing the Urartian state to occupy an isolated position in the west. Moreover, this situation was mirrored in the east, when as a result of Tiglath-​pileser III’s second campaign in 737 bc toward the interior of the Iranian plateau, the land of the Manneans aligned itself more closely with Assyria, which isolated Urartu from other Iranian allies. In 735 bc, Tiglath-​pileser III realized his long-​planned Urartian strategy. Using the secondary trails across the Taurus Mountains, the Assyrian army unexpectedly appeared on the shore of Lake Van, moved against 71. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 9; no. 39: ll. 20–​22; no. 41: ll. 15′–​19′; no. 47: ll. 45–​50, and elsewhere. 72. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 37: l. 24. 73. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: ll. 25–​31; no. 41: ll. 27′–​31′; 49: ll. 6′–​13′.

795

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Tušpa and besieged the capital city. But while the inaccessible citadel—​ perched on the Van Kalesi rock outcrop—​resisted the siege (figure 44.5), Tiglath-​pileser III inflicted heavy losses on the Urartians by destroying the city’s living quarters and surrounding settlements. No fewer than thirty-​three cities and fortresses belonging to the lands of Ulluba and Habhu were incorporated into Assyrian territory. Assyria also gained territory in the Upper Euphrates basin, where the land of Enzi and other territories neighboring Kummuh were conquered, and these were given to the province of the commander-​in-​chief.74 The Urartians were forced to forget these territories for a time. Continued failures and the loss of vast territories cost Sarduri his throne, if not his life. Apart from these territorial losses, Sarduri’s defeat and a possible internecine struggle for the throne harmed Urartu’s reputation and forced its exclusion on the international stage. This not only gave Assyria a free hand to continue its expansionist policy in western Iran, Syria, and the Levant, but also allowed it to significantly expand its presence and influence in the Taurus Mountains, over that of its immediate northern neighbors. Obviously, the Assyrians no longer respected the reputation of the ancient cult centers in this area, such as Kumme, the most important center of the worship of the thunder god, and Muṣaṣir, with its main temple of the god Haldi. In fact, both lands were considered vassal states by the Assyrians and were forced to pay tribute. The situation is poignantly illustrated in a letter sent by the Kummeans in response to a letter from the Urartian king: “(Only) the houses of Kumme are left to us, . . . we cannot put our feet anywhere.”75 The new Urartian king, Rusa, son of Sarduri, applied himself to restoring the lost possessions of his realm in the Taurus Mountains. In order to regain control of Muṣaṣir, the Urartian king decided to make a pilgrimage to the main temple of Haldi. Before the king’s departure, a group of Urartian troops entered Muṣaṣir. This prompted a negative reaction in the Assyrian royal court, where Sargon II (721–​705 bc; c­ hapter 38 in this

74. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 39: ll. 23–​36; no. 41: ll. 21′–​26′; no. 49: ll. 3′–​23′. 75. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 95, 105, 136 and 146.

Figure 44.5.  A view of the rocky outcrop of Van Kalesi, with the ruins of ancient Tušpa, the capital city of the Urartian kingdom; the remains of the fortification walls of the Urartian citadel can be seen at the left-​hand side (near the flagpole), and in the center, the rock-​cut façade of one of the royal tombs. Photograph by author.

796

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volume) now ruled as king. Urzana, the king of Muṣaṣir, was too weak to prevent the Urartians from entering the holy city; he was captured trying to escape to Assyria and was returned to Muṣaṣir.76 Soon after, Rusa visited the city with a large army and personally performed rituals in the temple of the god Haldi. His inscriptions mention two week-​long celebrations and feasts organized for the people of the city. The king’s visit to Muṣaṣir and the ensuing celebrations were seemingly accepted as the restoration of Urartian control over Muṣaṣir. Rusa ordered the erection of bilingual inscriptions to memorialize and glorify his victorious deeds.77 Urzana was forgiven and restored to the throne.78 The Urartian king’s next target was the land of the Manneans. Beginning in 719 bc, the Assyrian sources report Urartian interference in Mannean affairs. Rusa quickly succeeded in uniting the local kingdoms of the region against Mannea and Assyria, prompting the latter to intervene and setting up a new clash between the two powers. Initially, both Assyrian and Urartian troops were active in the territories of the buffer states that lay between the two powers. According to an Assyrian report, Urartian troops were involved in military operations in the land of Ukku.79 Tensions rose in the cities of Ištar-​durani and Elizki in the Urartian-​Assyrian border zone, where the Assyrians anticipated an invasion by the troops of three provincial governors.80 Rusa could count on the people of the land of Kumme rebelling against their leaders, Ariye and Ariza, who served the Assyrians. Moreover, in 76. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 11, 87–​89, 147–​148, and 187. Note that there are two divergent scenarios regarding the dating of the Urartian king’s visit to Muṣaṣir, as reported in Urzana’s apologetic letter to the Assyrian Palace Herald (edited as Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 147): one assumes that it happened after Sargon’s campaign of 714 bc (so, e.g., Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: xviii), while the other assumes, based on Salvini 2008: no. A10-​5, that it happened in the period immediately before, in the summer of 714 bc (so, e.g., André-​Salvini and Salvini 2002: 29). 77. Salvini 2008: nos. A10-​3, A10-​4 and A10-​5. 78. Salvini 1997: 445. 79. Luukko 2012: no. 70. 80. Luukko 2012: no. 183.

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response to an Assyrian attempt to build a military base in the territory of Kumme, Rusa displayed his military might near the southern borders of his realm, threatening Assyria with an attack and commanding his governors to “take your troops, go and capture the governors of the king of Assyria alive from the Kummeans and bring them to me.”81 Several other texts highlight the successes of Urartian forces against Assyrian troops. According to one such text, the Urartian army gained a victory over an army under the command of one of the high-​ranking Assyrian officials, the chief cupbearer. None of the Assyrians got away. An invasion by Rusa’s troops was expected in the province of the chief cupbearer.82 The Assyrian royal court assessed the danger and decided upon a radical solution to the problem. In 714 bc, Sargon II of Assyria set out on a campaign against Urartu and its allies. The detailed description of that campaign was preserved in the form of a letter addressed to the god Aššur, composed by Nabû-​šallimšunu, chief scribe of the king.83 The decisive battle on the slopes of Mount Uauš in fact won the war for Assyria. A number of Urartian provinces were raided, dozens of fortresses were destroyed, and hundreds of rural settlements in their environs were set on fire. In addition, the Assyrian troops conquered and plundered the holy city of Muṣaṣir. Sargon II ordered the doors of its main temple opened and took the statue of the god Haldi prisoner. Upon hearing this news, Rusa committed suicide: Ursa (i.e., Rusa), king of Urartu, heard of the destruction of Muṣaṣir, the carrying off of his god Haldi, and by his own hands brought an end to his life with the iron dagger from his belt.84

81. Parpola 1987: no. 29: ll. 14–​18. 82. Luukko 2012: no. 71. 83. Frame 2020: no. 65. 84. Frame 2020: no. 7: ll. 76–​77; cf. also no. 1: ll. 164–​165; no. 43: l. 27. It is noteworthy that according to Sargon’s “Letter to the god Aššur” (Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 151, 411–​413), Rusa did not kill himself; for a discussion, see Roaf 2002.

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Argišti, son of Rusa, ascended the throne in this period, and generally reversed the consequences of the Assyrian campaign. Once again, the Urartians became a concern for the Assyrians. One reason for the new tension was the fact that, one by one, Sargon II was eliminating the post-​Hittite kingdoms (­chapter 46 in this volume). Finally, the conquest of Kummuh in 708 bc was considered an act of war, and the Urartians began military preparations. The Urartian king concentrated his troops in the cities of Pulua and Danibani in the upper reaches of the Tigris river. The Assyrians kept vigilant watch on these activities from the fortifications built on the opposite riverbank. А report sent to Sargon II mentions that the Urartian troops were ready for war. An order by Argišti to begin the campaign is also mentioned, although for some reason the king then countermanded it. The Assyrians were also active. The garrisons of border forts were reinforced with additional troops, and more army units were sent to the border. Another report sent to the Assyrian king indicates that the troops were ready for war and awaiting further commands from the king. Soon after, the first small-​scale clashes took place with losses on both sides.85 It seemed that war was inevitable. However, matters took an unexpected turn when events in Anatolia diverted Sargon’s attention, and the Urartian problem was pushed into the background. The relationship between Argišti and Sargon II’s successor Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) was most likely peaceful, and this state of affairs persisted during the reign of Argišti’s successor, Rusa. Although one of his inscriptions mentions Assyria among the lands from which population groups were brought to Urartu,86 they may have been Assyrian refugees rather than prisoners of war. In his inscriptions, Esarhaddon of Assyria (680–​669 bc) points to a treaty between the two countries.87 At the same time, according to later tradition, Sennacherib’s sons escaped to Urartu after their failed attempt to seize the throne following

85. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 2–​6, and 21. 86. Salvini 2008: no. A12-​1: vi 10. 87. Leichty 2011: no. 33: iii 31′–​32′.

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the assassination of their father. Nevertheless, in light of the peaceful relationship and existing treaty between Assyria and Urartu, it is hard to imagine that they were received warmly at the Urartian court. On the contrary, it is more reasonable to suggest that the murderers hid themselves in some country inaccessible to both the Assyrians and the Urartians, most probably Šubria.88 Šubria was an important component in Rusa’s foreign policy. From the late eighth century bc, the Šubrian king had succeeded in maintaining his independence, ignoring the interests of his powerful neighbors.89 One expression of this policy was his habit of giving shelter to large numbers of people escaping both Assyria and Urartu, and his refusal to give them back. Moreover, this included more than low-​ranking people seeking to avoid military service or labor duties. During the reign of Esarhaddon, high-​ranking officials, including governors and senior commanders (members of another political circle altogether), in addition to people “who had sinned, those who had shed blood,” found shelter in Šubria.90 According to Assyrian sources, Rusa sent a letter to Ik-​Teššub, king of Šubria, demanding the return of Urartian fugitives. This demand was refused with an offensive response.91 It seems that in Tušpa they were inclined to solve the problem by force, as the Assyrians were apparently concerned about the possibility of an Urartian invasion of Šubria.92 For unknown reasons, the Urartian campaign did not take place. Instead, Šubria was conquered by Esarhaddon after a successful campaign in 673–​ 672 bc and was integrated into the realm in the form of two provinces

88. Piotrovskij 1959: 112; cf. Radner 2011: 741. For the suggestion that the Assyrian regicides found refuge at the Urartian court, see Fuchs 2012: 142–​144. See also ­chapter 38 in this volume. 89. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 31–​35. 90. Leichty 2011: no. 33: obv. (?) ii 1–​3; cf. E.g., Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 35, 52–​54, and Luukko 2012: no. 186. 91. Leichty 2011: no. 33: iii 28′–​30′. 92. Starr 1990: no. 18.

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(Kullimeri and Uppumu).93 It can be assumed that Rusa reached some kind of rapprochement with Esarhaddon. At least, the Assyrian king referring to the treaty with Rusa mentions the search for Urartian fugitives in Šubria and their return to Urartu. Cordial relations between Rusa and Esarhaddon apparently continued throughout their reigns. During the reign of Ashurbanipal (668–​630 bc; ­chapter 38 in this volume), the new king of Assyria, a cooling in the relationship between the two powers can be seen. In Ashurbanipal’s “Letter to the god Aššur,” the Urartians are described as planning hostilities against the Assyrian king, along with so-​called Umman-​manda, a literary term that could refer at that time to the Cimmerians or Medes.94 Another source referring to the events of 657 bc mentions Andaria, a governor or commander-​in-​ chief of Urartu, who attacked the city of Kullimeri, the center of one of the Assyrian provinces created in formerly Šubrian territory. This action ended in disaster. The army of Andaria was defeated, and his head was cut off and sent by the Šubrians to the king of Assyria.95 Increasing instability in Urartu was probably the main reason Rusa was forced to give up the idea of further aggression and tried to re-​ establish good relations with the Assyrian king. A delegation was sent to the Assyrian royal court. The Assyrian king received the Urartian ambassadors at Arbela (modern Erbil) in 652 bc. The Assyrian sources report this event with obvious satisfaction.96 After Rusа, son of Argišti, the Urartian throne passed to Sarduri, son of Rusa. He was the last king of Urartu mentioned in Assyrian royal inscriptions, around 643 bc. A copy of a letter sent to Sarduri by Ashurbanipal was found in the Nineveh archives. In this letter the Assyrian king expressed his good wishes to the Urartian king and his land, calling Sarduri his “son.” The annals of Ashurbanipal also mention Sarduri’s letters, in which the Urartian king addressed Ashurbanipal as

93. Radner 2008b: 63–​64: no. 64 (Kullimeri) and no. 66 (Uppumu). 94. Diakonoff 1965: 344 n. 9. 95. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: iv 6–​14 (Prism B); no. 6: v 13–​23 (Prism C). 96. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 6: vii 20′–​23′ (Prism C).

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“father” and “lord,” and to the substantial gifts presented by Sarduri to the Assyrian king.97 This form of salutation might imply some kind of kinship between “father” and “son.”98 Perhaps Sarduri was Ashurbanipal’s son-​in-​law. On the other hand, this may testify to growing Assyrian influence in Urartu, aided by inter-​dynastic marriage, a common means of spreading such influence.99 A quarter of a century later, Assyria was struggling against the Babylonian and Median armies for survival. One of the Babylonian campaigns was directed toward Bit-​Hanuniya, “a district of Urartu.”100 Whether this reflects some kind of assistance to Assyria from the Urartian side, or simply the use of an archaic geographical designation rather than a political entity, is difficult to say.

44.3.3.  Urartu and the west: beyond the Euphrates Urartian expansion toward the post-​Hittite kingdoms (­chapter 46 in this volume) in the upper reaches of the valley of the Euphrates began in the time of Minua. One Urartian text mentions a campaign directed toward the land of Melid and the conquest of the lands of Šebeteria, Huzana, and Ṣupa(ni). Under the threat of further invasion, the king of Melid pledged to pay tribute to Minua in order to avoid confrontation. In this way, the Melidean king managed to retain control of some of the territories along the left bank of the Euphrates.101 A renewed attempt to expand Urartian influence in this direction was made by Minua’s son Argišti. At this time, the post-​Hittite kingdoms put up strong resistance. The restrained description of this campaign in the royal annals of Argišti and the absence of an enumeration of war booty may suggest that the

97. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 11: x 40–​50 (Prism A). 98. Lanfranchi 2009. 99. Dalley 1998. 100. Glassner 2004: no. 23: ll. 2–​3. 101. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 56: ll. 1–​17 =​Salvini 2008: no. A5-​5: ll. 1–​17.

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campaign was not particularly successful and was not accompanied by territorial gains. A new attempt by the Urartian kingdom to establish itself firmly in the upper valley of the Euphrates in 781–​780 bc immediately provoked sharp resistance from Assyria and made Argišti refrain from further activities in this direction. During his reign, the strengthening of the Urartian presence toward the west began, by constructing a network of fortresses up to the eastern bank of the Euphrates: key sites are Kayalıdere (perhaps another city named Argištihinili after the king)102 and the later foundation at Altıntepe in the plain of Erzincan.103 During the reign of Sarduri, son of Argišti, the new target of Urartian expansion was the kingdom of Kummuh, in the general region between modern Birecik and Adıyaman, on the west bank of the Euphrates. Around 765 bc, Urartian troops under the personal command of the king seized two “royal cities” of this kingdom, Uita and Halpa. A third “royal city,” Paralani, was besieged. The king of Kummuh was forced to come and kneel before Sarduri. He was forgiven on the condition that he pay tribute and heavy taxes.104 A decade later, around 756–​755 bc, the Urartians conducted their third campaign against the kingdom of Melid. Conquering the fortresses of Melid built on the “Trans-​Euphratean” territories of this kingdom, one after another, the Urartian troops reached and crossed the Euphrates, taking Sasi, one of the “royal cities” of the Melidian king Hilaruada, by force and besieging his capital city. The king of Melid was forced to stand in front of Sarduri and recognize the suzerainty of the Urartian king by pledging to pay taxes. The “Trans-​Euphratean” territories of Hilaruada were taken from him, along with nine fortresses built to defend the river crossings. One of the Urartian inscriptions also mentions new Urartian borders reaching up to the lands of Melid and Kummuh,105 and there is no doubt that under the rule of Sarduri, the Urartian state expanded

102. Dan and Salvini 2011. 103. Özgüç 1966; 1969. 104. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 E: ll. x +​36–​56 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9-​3: iv 36′–​56′. 105. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 244 =​Salvini 2008: nos. A9-​4 and A9-​18.

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its front along the Euphrates. The texts of Tiglath-​pileser III of Assyria (744–​727 bc bc ) also refer to the Euphrates river as one of Urartu’s borders: “I drove him back to the bridge (crossing over) the Euphrates river, on the border of his land.”106 The inscription mentioning Urartu’s common borders with the lands of Melid and Kummuh also refers to the city of Nih(i)ria in the land of Arme. The fact that the probable location of this important city was somewhere in the region of the Euphrates bend, or in the upper streams of the Balikh river, its tributary,107 implies that Urartian armies had penetrated deep into northern Syria, perhaps in an attempt to reach the Mediterranean coast. It is interesting that shortly after the Melidian campaign, the royal annals of Sarduri describe the conquest of the land of Arme with its “royal city” Nih(i)ria and announce a victory over the Assyrian king Aššur-​nerari V. Unfortunately, details of the north Syrian campaign have not been preserved, but it could have been initiated after the treaty concluded between Mati‘-​’el, king of Arpad, and the Assyrian king. Obviously, this treaty was essentially anti-​Urartian.108 The events that followed show that Mati‘-​’el broke this treaty and allied himself with Sarduri. Lastly, the kingdom of Gurgum, west of Kummuh, allied itself with Urartu as well, another piece of evidence pointing to Urartian influence among the post-​Hittite kingdoms lying far beyond the Euphrates in the west. During Sarduri’s reign, therefore, a strong anti-​Assyrian coalition was formed that included several post-​Hittite kingdoms. Even Kummuh, the rulers of which had close relationships with the Assyrian Empire and traditionally enjoyed Assyrian patronage, had to join this coalition. As a result, the trade routes leading to the rich mines of Asia Minor were closed to Assyria. The defeat of Sarduri and his allies in northern Syria in 743–​738 bc forced Urartu to withdraw from those regions. Assyria began to continuously drive a wedge between the post-​Hittite kingdoms and Urartu,

106. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 9: l. 11′. 107. Miller 2012: 357–​359. 108. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 2.

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trying to obstruct the overland routes between them. Interestingly, in connection with the victories of Tiglath-​pileser III, one of the Assyrian texts mentions the Arṣania river (modern Murad Su), which was crossed by the king’s troops “when [it was in flood . . .] as if it was a ditch.”109 Another text mentions the conquest of the land of Enzi as far as the land of Ṣuppa, which was incorporated into the province of the commander-​ in-​chief.110 The land of Ṣuppa was undoubtedly Ṣupa(ni) of the Urartian sources, near the junction of the Arṣania and the Euphrates. A display inscription of Rusa, son of Argišti, mentions Ṣupa(ni) in connection with cultic procedures and sacrifices.111 This means that in the first quarter of the seventh century bc, Ṣupa(ni) was still within the borders of Urartu. It can be posited that long after 735 bc, Urartu continued to control some territories on its western periphery and still had a common border with some post-​Hittite kingdoms. This is also evidenced by the action taken by the Assyrian king Sargon II. When he brought five cities under the Assyrian control after the conquest of Melid and Kammanu in 712 bc, Sargon turned them into fortresses to keep watch over Urartu, deepening the divide between the latter and the post-​Hittite states.112 The Assyrian Empire’s expansion and in particular Sargon II’s gradual annexing of the post-​Hittite kingdoms forced the remaining states to seek help from Urartu. The latter continued to defend its regional interests, and the surviving post-​Hittite kingdoms played a role in Urartian foreign policy even after the events of 714 bc. Urartu apparently had a hand in the anti-​Assyrian revolts in the lands of Bit-​Purutaš (Tabal), Melid, and Gurgum in 713–​711 bc.113 Contemporary Assyrian sources mention a delegation sent to Urartu by Urikki, king of the land of Que. The members of the delegation were arrested by the Phrygians

109. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 36: ll. 11′–​13′. 110. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 49: obv. 20′–​23′. 111. Salvini 2008: no. A12-​6. 112. Frame 2020: no. 1: ll. 216–​218. 113. Frame 2020: no. 1: ll. 198–​216; no. 2: ll. 269–​273, 441–​454.

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and handed over to the Assyrians.114 Sargon II’s claim that the king of Kummuh had revolted, putting his trust in Argišti, king of Urartu, was probably not too far from reality,115 especially since, at this time, Argišti felt confident enough to enter into conflict with Assyria. The inscriptions of Rusa, son of Argišti, refer to certain post-​Hittite states, including Melid (Urartian Hate, i.e., “Hatti”) and Tabal (Urartian Tablani), as well as the Phrygian kingdom (Urartian Muškini; see ­chapter 45 in this volume). This has led to the assumption that Urartian armies invaded eastern and central Asia Minor, but texts from Rusa’s reign only mention the resettlement of population groups (literally, “men and women”) from those lands in newly founded cities.116 This was a period when unpredictable processes of ethnic movement, increasing mobility of population groups, and ethnic changes were taking place. With their policy of deporting not only the elites of the conquered post-​Hittite states but also large numbers of the local population, the Assyrians unintentionally contributed to the demographic changes in those regions and opened the way for new ethnic groups to fill the vacuum. Consequently, it is possible that among the population groups settled in the Urartian cities of Rusa, there were also some westerners, including from the Luwian-​speaking post-​Hittite states, as in the case of the “international” inhabitants of the outer city of Rusahinili-​Eidurukai (modern Ayanis) on the eastern shore of Lake Van in eastern Turkey.117

44.3.4.  Urartu and the east: the neighbors in Iran The strong Urartian presence on the western and southern shores of Lake Urmia is attested both in written sources and archaeologically.118 One example is the large fortress of Qalatgah in the Ushnu valley in

114. Parpola 1987: no. 1; Luukko 2012: no. 152. 115. Frame 2020: no. 7: ll. 112–​113. 116. Salvini 2008: no. A12-​1: vi 10–​11; no. A12-​4: ii 7′–​10′. 117. On these, see Stone and Zimansky 2003: 227; Zimansky 2005: 239. 118. Cf. Potts 2018.

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the Iranian province of West Azerbaijan, which was founded by Minua to serve as a base and armory for the Urartian forces in the newly conquered territories southwest of Lake Urmia.119 After Minua conducted several campaigns in northwestern Iran (­chapter 43 in this volume), Urartian domination was established throughout much of this general area, and the Urartians began to control an important trade route leading to Assyria through the passes of the northern Zagros Mountains. During the reign of Argišti, son of Minua, a new phase of the struggle began. A considerable part of Argišti’s reign was spent fighting for control of these territories. Beginning in 779 bc, at least eight campaigns were aimed at northwestern Iran. The war went back and forth, involving Assyria. In the beginning, the Urartian army was able to successfully penetrate deep into the Zagros Mountains, reaching the borders of either Babylonia or a country (the land of Namri?) that was perceived by the Urartians as Babylonian, perhaps because of its Akkadian-​speaking population.120 The war continued when the Manneans opposed Urartu. In 777 bc, a six year-​long confrontation began between Urartu and Mannea, and their allies. Fierce battles were fought to control the city of Sira, which was captured by the Manneans. Urartian troops besieged the city, and then managed to defeat the Mannean army sent to relieve the Manneans trapped there. Eventually, Sira was recaptured. The victory at Sira was a turning point. The Manneans sustained heavy losses, and the Urartians were able to carry the war deep into the interior of Mannea. Urartian troops mercilessly destroyed the land. Settlements were set on fire, rich booty was taken, and thousands of people were made prisoners of war. Depleted by the prolonged war, the Manneans suffered a heavy defeat and were forced to accept Urartian hegemony. An Urartian rock-​ inscription at Javankaleh, on the slopes of Mount Sahand, near Lake Urmia, repeats a passage from the royal annals of Argišti, describing the conquest of Šimerihadirini, the “royal city” of the Manneans.121 Assyria lost control of vast territories in northwestern Iran. 119. Muscarella 2013: 97–​108. 120. Diakonoff and Kashkai 1981: 17–​18 (with map); Fuchs 2012: 150. 121. Salvini 2008: no. A8-​13.

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During the reign of Sarduri, the Urartians continued to control the northern Zagros Mountains. Revolts by the Manneans were put down, resulting in the acquisition of further territories by Urartu.122 By invading the land of Puluadi, located in northwestern Iran in the region of Ahar,123 Sarduri established permanent control over it and established a new Urartian center near Libliuni (modern Seqindel), the “royal city” of the king of Puluadi.124 Sarduri replicated his father’s distant campaign by invading the border regions of “Babylonia,” reaching the land of Baruata (perhaps Bit-​Barrua of the Assyrian sources) somewhere near the northern borders of Elam, southeast of present-​day Kermanshah.125 However, Urartian fortunes turned after Tiglath-​pileser III ascended the Assyrian throne. Gradually, he began to expand the borders of Assyria toward western Iran, eliminating several local kingdoms. Assyrian successes encouraged Iranzu, king of the Manneans, who met with Tiglath-​ pileser III in the Assyrian city of Dur-​Tukulti-​apil-​Ešarra and received assurances of support. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III began to mention Mannea in lists of tributary states.126 After 735 bc, Urartu lost any kind of control over Mannea and several other kingdoms in northwestern Iran. Rusa’s activities in Muṣaṣir and his stated intention of re-​establishing Urartian domination there were a cause for concern in Mannea (cf. ­chapter 39 in this volume). Threatened with a Urartian invasion, Iranzu of Mannea sent a delegation to Assyria seeking support. The Mannean ambassador received a positive welcome from the crown prince, Sennacherib, exchanging gifts and, it seems, receiving assurances of

122. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 B: ll. 13–​27 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9-​3: v 12′–​26′. 123. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 E: ll. x +​8–​18 =​Salvini 2008: no. A 9-​3: iv 8′–​18′; Arutjunjan 2001: no. 245 =​Salvini 2008: no. A 9-​8. 124. Kleiss and Kroll 1980: 21–​61. 125. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 A: ll. 4–​6 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9-​3: i 4–​6. Cf. Diakonoff and Kashkai 1981: 18–​19 (with map); Parpola and Porter 2001: 7, Map 11 (D3). 126. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 17: ll. 10–​12; no. 35: i 15′–​20′, iii 24–​30; no. 47: obv. 39–​41.

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Assyria’s powerful backing.127 While Rusa did not act openly against the Mannean king, he did incite a number of vassal rulers, “the governors of the Mannean land,” to rebel against Iranzu, their overlord. Aza, who succeeded his father Iranzu on the Mannean throne, was defeated and killed shortly after by his rebellious vassals. Ullusunu, his brother, submitted to Rusa. Moreover, through Rusa’s active efforts, other kingdoms in the neighborhood also joined the coalition: (Ullusunu the Mannean) . . . put his trust in Rusa, the Urartian. Aššur-​le’i of the land of Karalla and Itti of the land of Allabria he caused to revolt against me, to serve Ursa (i.e., Rusa) he persuaded them.128 Assyria was thereby forced to constantly interfere in the politics of Mannea and its neighbors. In 719 bc, a rebellion by several Mannean cities, aided by Rusa, was suppressed by Assyrian troops. A few years later the Assyrians defeated a coalition of rebellious princes at the battle of Mount Uauš. Sargon II expected that Ullusunu would not deviate from the political line his predecessors had followed by drawing the “yoke of Aššur,” but these hopes were unjustified. Moreover, the king of Mannea handed a number of fortresses over to the Urartians and their allies. In а letter from Sargon II to the Urartian king (undoubtedly Rusa), the Assyrian accused the latter of laying his hands on Mannean territory.129 The Assyrians responded to these developments decisively. In 716 bc, an Assyrian army under the command of Taklak-​ana-​Bel, the governor of the province of Naṣibina, invaded Mannea,130 capturing Izirtu, its capital city, and several other strong fortresses. Ullusunu, who had successfully escaped, finally surrendered. Mannea was occupied by Assyrian forces

127. Parpola 1987: no. 29: ll. 18–​21. 128. Frame 2020: no. 1: ll. 84–​85. 129. Parpola 1987: no. 8: ll. 19–​20. 130. According to a depiction with a cuneiform epigraph that identifies the commander in Room 14 in Sargon II’s palace in Dur-​Šarrukin; see Reade 1976: 99.

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and Urartu’s alliance with the kingdoms of northwestern Iran was largely neutralized.131 If at first, only relatively small-​scale clashes took place, mostly in the territories of the buffer states, from 715 bc onward the area of military operations extended across almost the entire frontier between the two powers. Assyrian troops deployed in Mannea, alongside the Mannean army, successfully dislodged the Urartian forces and their allies from the Mannean fortresses. The Manneans began to attack Urartian fortresses along the sea shore (doubtlessly Lake Urmia). The Urartian king and his commander-​in-​chief, with a large army, marched toward the city of Wesi, a strategic Urartian center bordering Mannea, to defend the frontier.132 An unexpected invasion by Cimmerian tribes, their heavy defeat of the Urartian army, and the subsequent attempt by the crown prince to seize Rusa’s throne133 dramatically altered the situation. The Urartians were presumably worried that the Assyrians would take advantage of the situation and invade Urartu. However, it seems that snow had already blocked their routes and any plans to invade were delayed to the next year. Mannea benefited greatly from the Assyrian campaign in Urartu in 714 bc. With the removal of the Urartian threat, the Manneans gradually drifted away from Assyrian protection. Assyrian texts from the time of Sennacherib mention Mannea as a land which had not submitted to his yoke.134 Soon afterwards, the Manneans themselves became a serious threat to Assyria. The texts of Argišti, son of Rusa, do not mention Mannea at all. Evidently, the eastern campaign of the Urartian king toward the Caspian Sea avoided the territories of this powerful neighbor. Argišti’s inscriptions in the area far to the east of Lake Urmia mention the conquest of several lands and the construction of fortresses.135 It is difficult to say

131. Frame 2020: no. 1: ll. 58–​67, 76–​91. 132. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 84 and 131. 133. Lanfranchi 1983. 134. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 1: ll. 70–​72. 135. Arutjunjan 2001: nos. 409–​410; Salvini 2008: nos. A11-​4, A11-​5, and A11-​6.

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to what extent these achievements reflected reality. This was probably Urartu’s last, short-​lived period of expansion in northwestern Iran. Rusa, Argišti’s successor, left no texts with military content at all. Instead, Mannea is mentioned in two texts containing year dating, one of which refers to some kind of activity by the Scythians in Mannea.136 This could hint at continuing contacts between the two neighbors, and obviously the Urartian court was well informed regarding Mannean affairs. We have no information about the nature of relations between Urartu and Mannea at this time.

44.4.  Urartu’s period of restoration 44.4.1.  Changing perspectives

Rusa, son of Argišti, was the last great ruler of the Urartian state. In his inscriptions, the king was called “mighty king,” “great king,” “king of the lands/​Universe,” “king of Biainili,” “king of kings” and “governor of the city of Tušpa,” the same extensive royal titles used by Sarduri, son of Argišti, his distant predecessor.137 We have several large inscriptions from Rusa, son of Argišti, the content of which is mostly cultic in nature and quite brief with respect to military-​political events. No mention is made of any serious troubles inside the realm or threats from outside, such as from Assyria and Etiuni. It is difficult to say whether this situation reflects the increasing mobility of the local population or the immigration and increased presence of foreign ethnic groups like the Cimmerians and Scythians, which could have shifted the balance of local powers and pushed old rivals into alliance, or even changed the relationship between the ruling Urartian elite and its subjects. It is evident that during Rusa’s reign, the country was beginning to be exposed to external influences, and antagonism between Urartian and local cultures disappeared to some extent. The first manifestations of coexistence between

136. Salvini 2012a: no. CT Tk-​1: ll. 1–​5; Işık and Salvini 2016: 50–​54. On the Scythians, see ­chapter 43 in this volume. 137. Salvini 2008: no. A12-​1: vii 8–​10.

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different ethnic and social groups appear in this period.138 Seemingly, the country began to enjoy years of unprecedented unanimity and shared interests with its main rivals, including Assyria (section 44.3.2). Apparently, royal power now needed a change of perspectives in order to consolidate its position within the state. Slowly, conquered local populations began to integrate into the Urartian administration and the army, and the appearance of officials with names formed by ethnic or territorial affiliation in Urartian texts is hardly coincidental. The names of a certain Abilianiše (“The Abilianean”) and Wazaya (“The Wazaean”), which were formed respectively from the place names Abiliani and Waza (lands conquered almost a century earlier), illustrate such processes.139 Moreover, Abilianiše was a high-​ranking official, namely the civilian governor of a province (LÚ.NA4.DIB), while Wazaya was a military officer (LÚ.10-​li, “commander-​of-​ten”).140 The ethno-​political units called “houses” in Urartian inscriptions began to play a more active role in the internal organization of the realm. One such example is the “House of Išpilipri” (É-​Išpilipri), attested in Urartian texts from the early seventh century bc, and the “House of Hanuniya” (Bit-​Hanuniya) mentioned in the Babylonian Chronicles.141 Members of these houses figured in both central and local Urartian administrations.142 Rusa’s reign is often called a period of “reconstruction” in Urartian studies.143 In fact, this notion was largely based on the unprecedented city-​building projects implemented by this king. At least four new administrative centers were founded during the reign of Rusa. These are the “City of the God Teišeba of the Land of Waza” (modern

138. Stone and Zimansky 2003: 227; Zimansky 2005: 239. 139. Salvini 2008: II 293, 298. 140. Salvini 2012a: no. CT Kb-​1: ro. 10; no. CT An-​1: l. 16. 141. House of Išpilipri: Salvini 2008: no. A12-​1: v 2; Salvini 2012a: no. CB An-​1: l. 4. House of Hanuniya: Glassner 2004: no. 23: ll. 2–​3. 142. E.g., Arutjunjan 2001: no. 429: obv. 5 =​Salvini 2012a: no. CT Kb-​2: ro. 5. 143. E.g., Smith 2003: 158, fig. 20.

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Karmir Blur, in the Ararat valley of Armenia), the “City of the God Haldi of the Land of Ziuquni” (modern Kefkale, to the north of Lake Van), “Rusahinili in Front of Mount Eiduru” (Rusahinili-​Eidurukai, modern Ayanis, on the eastern shores of Lake Van), and “Rusa’s Small City” (Urartian Rusai-​URU.TUR, modern Bastam in the valley of Qara Zia’eddin in northwestern Iran). Several old centers founded by the kings of the eighth century bc, like “Argištihinili of the Land of Waza” in the Ararat valley, were also reconstructed and expanded during the reign of Rusa. Several new fortresses could be added to this list. All these centers had adjacent settlements, in the form of “outer cities.” The construction of “outer cities” was not a new phenomenon in Urartian city building. Urartian building inscriptions often mention the construction of “cities” along with the foundation of new administrative centers and large fortresses, from the time of Išpuini down to the reign of Rusa, son of Argišti.144 It is also evident that “outer cities” in Urartu are best attested during Rusa’s reign and were probably the largest settlements in terms of surface areas.145 The populations of these cities were at least partially composed of resettled groups brought from around the kingdom, as well as migrants from neighboring countries. The concentration of relatively large numbers of ethnically heterogeneous populations in certain areas may testify to the strength of the processes that promoted peaceful coexistence. For example, the presence of Assyrians in Rusahinili-​Eidurukai (modern Ayanis), one of the cities founded by Rusa, is beyond any doubt.146 Urartian inscriptions of this period mention population groups brought from Assyria and elsewhere. An inscription found in Kefkale mentions bringing “men and women” from at least six foreign lands. In the susi-​temple inscription of Ayanis (figure 44.6), the names of foreign lands increase to eight, including Assyria, Tablani (Tabal), Qainaru (of uncertain location), Muškini (usually identified with Phrygia; see ­chapter 45 in this volume), Hate (Melid), Targuni

144. Grekyan 2017: 103–​105, fig. 1. 145. Zimansky 2005: 236–​238; Stone and Zimansky 2009: 634–​635. 146. Radner 2011: 741.

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Figure 44.6.  A view of the corridor leading to the cella of the susi-​temple at Ayanis, the ancient city of Rusahinili-​Eidurukai, with parts of the Urartian inscription of Rusa, son of Argišti. Note also the cavities of the now-​lost inlay wall decorations. Photograph by author.

(Tariuni?), Etiuni, and Ṣiluquni, thus partially replicating the six names mentioned above, while the name of the land of Halitu is omitted for some reason.147 These major attempts at urbanization are usually associated with the administrative reforms of Rusa. On the other hand, his father Argišti and Rusa, son of Erimena, are also known for their building activities, which included the foundation of new urban centers at Argištihinili-​ Artarapšakai (location uncertain) and Rusahinili-​Qilbanikai (modern Toprakkale). This could indicate that such large-​scale city building projects were conditioned by other, possibly ecological factors. Be that as it may, the image of a prosperous Urartian state in the reign of Rusa, son of Argišti; its political, economic, and cultural recovery; and the period of peace and unanimity outlined by the sources were

147. Salvini 2008: no. A12-​1: vi 10–​11; no. A12-​4: ii 7′–​9′.

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nothing but an illusion. The political system of the kingdom of Urartu and its highly centralized economy were not flexible enough to incorporate very disparate ethnic and social groups. Instead, Rusa’s reign seems to have ended in disaster.

44.4.2.  Urartu and the nomads The Cimmerians (­chapter 43 in this volume), who raided Urartian territory in the late eighth century bc, were a northern population group and among the first northerners to make contact with the Urartians. Only the Assyrian sources provide details about the Urartian-​Cimmerian conflict, since the Cimmerians are never mentioned in any Urartian texts. The army of Rusa, son of Sarduri, was defeated in battle by these warrior nomads and apparently suffered great losses.148 After only one or two years, however, the Cimmerians disappeared from the sources for several decades. It seems quite likely that Rusa or one of his immediate successors came to an arrangement with the Cimmerians, whether by paying a ransom, through a dynastic marriage, or by some other means that ensured their neutrality and kept them from serving the Assyrians. In any case, Argišti, son of Rusa, felt confident enough to conduct a long-​ range campaign into the inaccessible mountains of southern Armenia and the lower basin of Araxes river, toward the Caspian Sea. Moreover, it seems that the Urartian state had opened its western gates to newcomers, directing their hordes toward the eastern part of Asia Minor. Almost a quarter of a century later, Assyrian sources again mention the Cimmerians as an enemy force. The oracle queries of Esarhaddon of Assyria (680–​669 bc) to the sun god Šamaš testify to an alliance between the Urartian king Rusa and the Cimmerians.149 If the Cimmerians were the “Umman-​manda” with whom the Urartians were planning hostility against the Assyrian king, according to Ashurbanipal’s

148. Parpola 1987: nos. 30–​31; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 90, 92, 144–​145, 173–​174. 149. Starr 1990: no. 18.

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Letter to Aššur, this would suggest a continuation of the hypothetical Urartian-​Cimmerian alliance. From the middle of the seventh century bc onward, the Cimmerians were active mostly outside of Urartu, in almost every part of the Near East—​on the Iranian plateau, in different parts of Asia Minor (Phrygia, Cilicia, and Lydia), and even in the Levant. While the presence of Cimmerians in the Near East, as well as the nature of Urartian-​ Cimmerian relations, has not been exhaustively studied, it seems that the Urartians had successfully overcome the Cimmerian problem. Contact with the Scythians (­chapter 43 in this volume) seems to have had a longer history, beginning in the reign of Argišti, son of Minua. Regarding one of the campaigns conducted during his reign, toward the land of Zabaha and other northern regions, Urartian texts mention the land of Išqigulu.150 This name is often associated with the Scythians. If this is the same as Išqugulhi, whose king Šagaputara “visited” the land of the Manneans, as mentioned in a text from Rusa, son of Argišti,151 then the beginning of Urartian-​Scythian contact may be dated to the early eighth century bc. In Assyrian sources, the Scythians first appear as allies of the Manneans in the texts of Esarhaddon. Scythian activity is mainly attested during the period when the Medes in western Iran rebelled against Esarhaddon, at which time the Scythians were allies of the Medes and the Manneans. A Scythian presence in Urartu is also beyond doubt. A good number of Scythian artifacts found at a number of Urartian sites has even led to the assumption that the garrisons in these locations included Scythian warriors (e.g., in Karmir Blur).152 On the other hand, the Scythian presence in Urartu is often associated with destruction, since the latest standing centers in Urartu were destroyed by enemy troops that used so-​called Scythian arrowheads;153 thus, the claim has often been made that Urartu’s collapse was brought

150. E.g., Arutjunjan 2001: no. 173: i 21 =​Salvini 2008: no. A8-​3: i 21. 151. Salvini 2012a: no. CT Tk-​1: ro. 2–​3. 152. Alekseev 2003: 101. 153. Grekyan 2009: 109–​110 (with references).

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about by the Scythians.154 But were the invaders really Scythians, or were they people who already had early contacts with these tribes, like the Etiunians, and who used Scythian-​type bows and arrows? There is some evidence to suggest the formation of a Scythian-​Etiunian alliance.155 The important role played by the Scythians during the same period is also reflected in ancient Armenian sources that mention Paroyr, king of the Armenians, son of Skayordi (i.e., son of a Scythian), a contemporary of Sardanapalus (Ashurbanipal), king of Assyria.156 It is interesting that the name “son of a Scythian” is also attested in Urartian texts mentioning the Išqugulhean king Šagaputara, whose name means “son of a Scythian.”157

44.5.  The end of Urartu Until now, the scanty written evidence has not generated a consensus regarding the decline and fall of the Urartian state. Rather, several scenarios were equally possible. Previous discussions revolved around a few references to Urartu, concerning events dating to the turn of the seventh century bc, in one of the Babylonian chronicles and in the Bible. Do these attestations reflect Urartu as a political unit, or simply as a geographical region? Perhaps they imply an administrative unit, a newly formed province under the rule of Median governors? Using these sources, the final period of Urartu and the chronology of its last kings were reconstructed according to one of these scenarios, and the end of Urartu was placed in the early or mid-​sixth century bc.158 Later studies dated the collapse of the Urartian state to the second half of the seventh century bc. In this case, the main perpetrators were thought to have been the subject peoples rebelling against their overlords.

154. E.g., Piotrovskij 1959: 241; Zimansky 1995: 261. 155. Grekyan 2014a: 161; cf. also Medvedskaya 2010: 143–​144. 156. Movses Khorenats‘i, 21; for an edition, see Thomson 2006: 104–​105. 157. Salvini 2007: 40. 158. For an overview, see Hellwag 2012: 227–​241.

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It was supposed that the rebellion was provoked by the large-​scale building projects of Rusa, son of Argišti. The realization of these projects required colossal manpower and material resources, exhausting the country’s capabilities and leading to social upheavals, mass escapes, and secessions, resulting in the depopulations of the main Urartian centers—​ a process that the central authority was incapable of preventing.159 More recently, the end of Urartu has been attributed to natural disasters, and this theory has achieved widespread acceptance. According to some scholars, a series of earthquakes destroyed several important royal centers, leading to an insurmountable political and economic crisis. This was compounded by the rebellions of Urartu’s subject peoples and the further weakening and eventual collapse of the state.160 The role of climatic changes in the fall of Urartu cannot be ruled out. A scarcity of precipitation, long-​lasting droughts, and water shortages attested in the seventh century bc must have had fatal consequences for agricultural states with economies based on a redistributive system, such as Urartu. Accordingly, the activities of the late eighth–​seventh-​century bc Urartian kings, especially Rusa, son of Argišti, including the foundation of new centers, the construction of large reservoirs and irrigation canals stretching hundreds of kilometers, the cultivation of drought-​ resistant crops, etc., seem to have been desperate efforts to mitigate the crisis.161 The number of written sources dating to the final decades of the Urartian state is insignificant. After a reference to Sarduri, king of Urartu, in 643 bc, the Assyrian sources fell silent. Babylonian sources related to the Assyrian-​Babylonian conflict twice mention “districts of Urartu” as regions approached by the Babylonian army in 609–​608 bc. The data from Urartian sources are also scanty, and because of the problems surrounding the dating and succession order of the last kings, some of the few preserved texts might even date to an earlier period.

159. Zimansky 2005: 239. 160. Çilingiroğlu 2002: 487–​488; Batmaz 2018: 325–​343. 161. Grekyan 2014b.

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The archaeology of Urartu is much more informative, providing a picture of a process of decline, political instability, and very dim prospects for success. The destruction by fire of “Rusa’s Small City” around 640 bc (i.e., late in the reign of Rusa, its founder, or shortly after him) could be signs of political instability and civil war.162 The evidence of the “first fires” observed in several Urartian centers like Sardurihinili (modern Çavuştepe, also known as Haykaberd) and Ayanis,163 before their final destruction, should also be considered in this connection. Obvious evidence of political instability in virtually all of the major royal centers of Urartu, during the last period of their existence, is the presence of a large number of irregularily, hastily built huts within the fortresses. This seems to reflect additional population groups trying to find shelter with their flocks inside the fortification walls of these cities. It is also notable that steps were taken to store additional food supplies. The citadel walls of the administrative-​political centers were reinforced. The gates of most of these centers were either closed, leaving open only one entry, or significantly narrowed. Eventually, almost every major Urartian administrative-​political center was conquered and destroyed. However, the fall of Urartu is not reflected only in the destruction of its centers. The collapse entailed the almost total depopulation of the agricultural regions that had previously sustained the kingdom. One indication of the scale of the crisis is the fact that over 90 percent of the Urartian sites in northwestern Iran were abandoned, and only a few settlements show traces of later, sparse occupation.164 It seems that the over-​centralized economic system of Urartu was unable to withstand the crisis which ultimately brought about its collapse. The crisis deprived the state of its main workforce and material resources, and reduced the size of the army and its fighting capacity. Apparently, Urartian provincial administrations lost control over the agricultural regions that provided their centers with foodstuffs, and

162. Kroll 1984: 170; Medvedskaya 2010: 152–​153. 163. Erzen 1978: 58–​59; Stone and Zimansky 2003: 222. 164. van Loon 1979: 370; Kroll 2004: 47.

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the fact that almost every granary and cellar was empty before the final destruction of the royal centers may reflect this situation. There is other clear evidence of famine and hardship that afflicted the country. One might think that in the final days of Urartian rule, the authority of local administrations did not extend beyond the walls of those centers, and one can truly see the disintegration of the state. Accordingly, it seems highly doubtful that the Urartian state even survived into the period of unfavorable environmental conditions that affected the region.

44.6.  Urartu’s aftermath The depopulation of the lowland regions and the inability to survive there made the last Urartians follow the masses of dependent or local populations and abandon the last standing fortresses. Obviously, Urartian civilization, or what remained of it, was forced to turn toward the alpine zones, to try to consolidate and carry on its traditions there. Several highland fortresses dating to the late seventh or early sixth century bc apparently bear the traces of Urartian architecture. These fortresses were built well over 2,000 m above sea level, the upper limit of Urartian lowland civilization.165 Along with the construction of these highland fortresses, the prolonged production of the Urartian ceramics hardly speaks in favor of the long-​lasting continuation of the Urartian state and its culture. The secondary use of richly decorated, Urartian bronze artifacts as raw materials by post-​Urartian societies during this period, when these artifacts were still in circulation, clearly indicates that these societies were not linked to Urartian culture. The continuing production of Urartian palatial pottery, an important marker of the state assemblage, as well as the emergence of Urartian pottery as understood by Armenian archaeologists (we mean here the “hybrid” forms of pottery that resulted from a combination of “Biainian” [i.e., “palatial”] and “Etiunian” [local] forms)166 should be linked to Urartian and non-​Urartian ethnic groups

165. Grekyan 2014b: 73–​74 (with references). 166. Avetisyan and Bobokhyan 2012: 373–​378.

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and should not be seen as evidence of the prolonged existence of the Urartian state. Bearing this in mind, we should remember the highlanders called Chaldeans (Greek Chaldaioi) mentioned by the Greek general Xenophon during the retreat of the Greek mercenaries through the territories of Armenia in 401–​400 bc.167 This name was long ago associated with the worshippers of the god Haldi, i.e., the Urartians. Hence the titles of several important works on Urartian history and culture by the pioneers of Urartian studies employ the term “Chaldean/​Khaldean.” Whether this reflects reality or not, the traces of Urartu and the Urartian language were lost in a relatively short period of time.168 After the fall of the Achaemenid Empire, the name “Urartu” (“Uraštu” in Babylonian) appears no longer in cuneiform inscriptions, completely surrendering its place to the term “Armini” (Armenia).169

44.7.  Urartu’s society, religion, and economy In the following, we will survey key elements of Urartian society, religion, and the state’s organization, including its redistributive economy and its military.

44.7.1.  Issues of ethnicity and languages The origin of the Urartian ruling house, the “Biainians,” is still problematic. The dynastic names of the kings of this house are generally regarded as having an Indo-​ European (Phrygian, any related language like Thracian, or Luwian) or West Semitic etymology.170 In addition, the personal names of the Urartian kings are also known and a few attestations demonstrate that, initially, the kings bore Hurro-​Urartian names. In any

167. Xen. An. 4.3.4; 5.5.17. 168. Zimansky 1995: 225–​268. 169. Geller and Traina 2013: 447–​454. 170. Petrosyan 2019.

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case, there is little doubt that political authority in the state belonged to the Urartian-​speaking community, led by a “Biainian” ruling house of uncertain origin. A study of Urartian prosopography is currently lacking but may eventually clarify the ethnolinguistic character of the realm. The currently available data assembled by the present author consist of around two hundred proper names, and this material can already help us in gaining some insights. Groups of names formed from common roots are well represented, and this suggests that the bearers of these names represent a specific ethnolinguistic group. Some theophoric and ethnically diagnostic names occur. Around seventy Urartian personal names are attested in Neo-​Assyrian inscriptions, including the names of Urartian kings and theophoric names based on Haldi, the principal god of the Urartian pantheon. More than four dozen names refer to the countries bordering Urartu from the south, namely Šubria, Kumme, Habhu, Ukku, and Gilzanu. Personal names formed on the basis of ethnic definition, e.g., Kummāyu “Man from Kumme,” are quite common. The available material attests to the multi-ethnic character of Urartu. Approximately one-​third of the attested names may be Hurro-​Urartian. An Indo-​European etymology can be suggested for one out of every six to seven names. The number of names of unknown origin is quite high, almost half of the corpus. Semitic names are rarely attested in Urartian texts, but this picture changes sharply when the onomastic material refers to the southern regions of the Armenian highlands, where the number of Indo-​European names decreases. This is quite natural when one considers the proximity of the Semitic world and the close relations between Assyria and the population to its north. It should be also remembered that the names attested in Urartian texts mainly refer to members of the upper social strata and ruling elite. One must also bear in mind that proper names do not always reflect the ethnicity of their bearers. Large-​scale deportations and planned resettlements (section 44.7.3), along with ethnic migrations, had a major impact on the ethnolinguistic makeup of the state. Unquestionably, the introduction of over one million deportees would have changed the ethnolinguistic makeup of the land and gradually contributed to the extinction of the Urartian

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language. This process would have accelerated in the later stages of Urartian history, culminating in the dominance of the Armenian language soon after the collapse of the state. According to the Greek geographer Strabo, the population of the highlands was already monolingual by the early second century bc.171

44.7.2.  Social strata Urartian society was led by a ruling elite: the “charioteers” who figured in the texts as the “men of mari.” This term has an Indo-​Iranian etymology, and in ancient Near Eastern sources of the second millennium bc (­chapter 29 in volume 3), it denoted a class of warriors in Mittani and other kingdoms in northern Syria called the “charioteers” or “noblemen” (maryannu).172 At the top of the ruling elite were the members of a small group called “men of tardašhe.” In a text listing officials and different social groups linked to the state economy, this group numbered little more than a hundred individuals and came first among the 1,100 noblemen.173 The group probably consisted of the king’s close relatives and other members of the royal house, the senior representatives of the military, and the priestly elite formed from the secondary branches of the ruling house and the lords of important princely houses, the “Biainians” as they called themselves, or the “magnates/​grandees” of Urartu, as they were called in the Neo-​Assyrian inscriptions.174 Members of this group took an active role in the military-​political and cultural life of the land.175 The “Biainians” occupied important offices within the central and provincial administrations, had sole rights to bear personal seals symbolizing their power, and were closely linked to

171. Str. 11.14.5. 172. Cf. Wilhelm 1990: 419–​421. 173. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 412: obv. 7–​9 =​Salvini 2012a: no. CT Tk-​1: ro. 7–​9. See also section 44.7.5. 174. E.g., Parpola 1987: no. 31: rev. 12; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 93: l. 3′. 175. E.g., Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 137–​138; no. 7: l. 42.

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the state. They had access to state resources including state lands, receiving extensive estates with fortified farmsteads and the right of temporary land ownership in exchange for service. These estates are described in the texts as the “cities” (URU) and “small towns” (URU.TUR) of certain individuals. The names of several such settlements have been preserved, including URU.TUR-Titiahinini whose name refers to Titia, a provincial governor during the time of Minua, son of Išpuini, and URU.Zaiahina-​URU whose name refers to Zaia, a provincial governor appointed by Sarduri son of Argišti.176 Sargon II’s “Letter to the god Aššur” mentions that the “city” of Arbu was considered the “paternal house of Rusa,” and that Riyar belonged to the “house of Sarduri,” while seven other “cities” were considered to be the settlements of Rusa’s brothers.177 Such rural estates are also attested archaeologically. One of them, Qal‘eh Kamana (dated to the eighth century bc), is a small settlement consisting of a two-​story, fortified castle surrounded by other dwellings.178 The estates called kapru (logographic spelling URU.ŠE) in Assyrian texts, usually associated with the names of certain persons, may provide a parallel.179 The senior officials at these provincial centers enjoyed a high standard of living. The large mansion houses built by state architects close to the citadels of the administrative centers were given to the families of these officials or to military commanders. The names given by modern archaeologists to these houses reflect this, e.g., “House of an Urartian nobleman” (in Karmir Blur =​Urartian “City of the God Teišeba of the Land of Waza”) or “House of the Seal-​Bearer” (in Armavir =​Urartian Argištihinili).180 Urartian soldiers, mostly charioteers and cavalrymen depicted in the martial, parade, and hunting scenes in Urartian iconography, most

176. Konyar et al. 2018: 21–​22. 177. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 277–​278. 178. Kleiss and Kroll 1978: 58–​50. 179. Fales 1990: 102–​105; 2014; Wiggermann 2000: 172. 180. Martirosyan 1961: 116; 1974: 109.

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probably represented members of the ruling elite who were qualified as “men of mari.” Professional soldiers, the “men of huradinili,” and “servants,” the “men of ururdani,” formed a much larger social group. In exchange for their military or civil service, the members of these groups received rations from state storehouses and were allowed to hold “houses” with adjacent farmland. “Houses” attached to particular people are mentioned in Urartian administrative texts, such as the “house” of a certain Inaya, in the land of Ikiša. Another text mentions the “house” (É-​ni) of two servants, Huka and Qutubili. They were involved in an interesting episode—​the division of farmland between this “house” and a “city” called Quduna, which was overseen by two officials who erected “steles,” i.e., border stones.181 Depending on the size of his land, a conventional landowner doing military service was obliged to keep horse(s) and chariot(s), and provide chariot-​troops and the cavalry for military campaigns. One of the texts from the archive of Karmir Blur informs us that a soldier received a horse, six bulls, and a vineyard. The text also refers to a “city” that was most likely obliged to provide the farmstead with labor.182 Three teams of bulls could plow up to 44–​50 hectares of land during the sowing season. This means that the holder of such an estate was responsible for equipping at least one chariot or providing some cavalrymen for the army. The holders of small allotments of land were expected to provide foot soldiers for the Urartian infantry. Although the evidence is too scarce to provide a clear picture, it testifies to the existence in Urartu of a system of land ownership in return for labor, which resembled the Assyrian ilku work service; interestingly, a Neo-​Assyrian text refers to ilku service in Urartu.183 The Urartian presence in any given region is attested by a chain of fortresses built around an administrative center to control arable land and irrigation canals (figure 44.4). These areas were reorganized according to new modes of social and economic relations. The local population 181. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 511a and no. 428: obv. =​Salvini 2012a: no. CT Kb-​1: ro. and no. CB Ba-​7. 182. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 429: obv. =​Salvini 2012a: no. CT Kb-​2: ro. 183. Luukko 2012: no. 70: l. 14.

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was coerced into these relationships. Nevertheless, some local communities, depending on different factors, were able to maintain their communal structure and lands, while their relationship to the state was expressed through loyalty, the payment of taxes, and by meeting other obligations. Some evidence suggests the existence of privileged communities in Urartu that enjoyed a degree of autonomy. Foremost among these were the inhabitants of Tušpa, the capital city. The king’s role as the “governor of Tušpa” could be formally limited by the council of representatives composed of the “men of Tušpa” and the “sons of Tušpa,” i.e. the “Tušpaeans” frequently mentioned in Urartian display inscriptions.184 Unfortunately, information on this topic is scanty, but it is possible that these citizens were independent of the palace and enjoyed the right to participate in the main festivals and receive a share of the state’s profits, as recorded in Urartian texts.185 Citizenship in such cities was heritable and was passed down from father to son.186 The lowest and the most numerous population group of the Urartian society was formed of dependents, including the above-​mentioned prisoners of war called ubše (children or youths of working age) and wediani (women).187 These dependent groups formed the primary workforce of the state-​controlled economy, operated through palaces and temples, and they were resettled in newly conquered lands. When necessary, the state used this workforce for major construction and other royal projects. It seems that these dependents were bound to the land and were considered state property.188 Their number was replenished with the addition of new war captives and by population growth since it is unlikely that every male captive was castrated. 184. E.g., Arutjunjan 2001: no. 391: ll. x +​11; Salvini 2008: no. A5-​2A: l. 5, no. A14-​ 1: ro. 44. 185. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 31: obv. 40–​43, rev. 19–​21; Salvini 2008: no. A3-​4: ro. 39′–​41′. 186. Dandamaev 1991: 255–​256. 187. See, e.g., Salvini 2008: no. A8-​3: i 13. 188. Comparable perhaps to the social group called ālû in the Neo-​Assyrian sources: Fadhil and Radner 1996: 425–​426.

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Members of the Urartian elite, professional soldiers, and royal servants held state lots with either a few dependent families or an entire rural settlement obliged to cultivate the lands of the larger estates. At the same time, it is possible that dependents were given the right to possess a house and to form a family by keeping a portion of the harvest as a means of survival. But groups of dependents bound directly to the lands belonging to a palace or temple were probably castrated. It is not surprising that the staff of Rusahinili-​Qilbanikai included more than 2,400 castrated “children/​youths,” as they are mentioned in the section of eunuchs numbering around 3,800 people in total. These groups of dependents had no means of subsistence, receiving only daily rations from the storehouses of the palace or temple to which they were assigned. Interestingly, a Neo-​Assyrian text also testifies to the existence of “dependents” in Urartu. In a letter from the high-​ranking Assyrian official Šarru-​emuranni to his king Sargon II, probably written after the Assyrian king’s eighth-​year campaign into Urartu in 714 bc, the writer reported on the resettlement of seventy Urartian soldiers, along with their “souls,” i.e., dependents, at Sippar in Babylonia.189

44.7.3.  The role of mass deportation and the resettlement of people The Urartian state’s efforts to settle the plains and deserted lowlands made the transformation of the landscape into regions fit for cultivation a vital necessity. Achieving this required considerable human resources, a problem solved through mass deportations and planned resettlements. The enumeration of prisoners of war occupies a significant place in Urartian royal annals and other display inscriptions. As a result of campaigns conducted by the most powerful Urartian kings against various parts of the Armenian highlands and beyond, between the late ninth and the mid-​eighth century bc, the number of captured people may have reached 830,000.190 Given the imperfect preservation of the royal annals, 189. Fuchs and Parpola 2001: no. 232. 190. Grekyan 2018: 143–​144.

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however, the number may have exceeded one million people. This may be compared with the capture of prisoners of war and the mass deportations of the Neo-​Assyrian period, when at least 1.5 million people were deported and resettled over three centuries.191 In contrast to the Assyrian practice of taking care of its displaced populations, and paying great attention to the well-​being of the deportees in their new locations,192 Urartian attitudes toward prisoners hardly testify to a humane treatment. Urartian texts indicate that some prisoners were killed while the rest were taken alive. The killing of captives was mostly directed at the able-​bodied adult male population. Thus the number of male prisoners left alive was negligible—​less than 5 percent of the total—​while the vast majority of prisoners were women and children. It seems that the enormous building projects of the Urartian rulers—​ the foundation of new cities and fortresses, the construction of roads and irrigation canals stretching hundreds of kilometers, and the cultivation of extensive lands—​were achieved through the hard labor of women and children numbering in the tens and hundreds of thousands. Although the use of women and children as a labor force in construction and farming is well documented from the end of the third millennium bc to the Neo-​Assyrian period, it appears that the use of these gender and age groups for labor reached unprecedented heights in Urartu. Few Urartian texts refer to planned resettlements. One text mentions the resettlement of the entire population of sixty settlements from the land of Arhi. Another text concerns Haha, the king of the Hušaeans, who was deported with his people and resettled in Urartu.193 The terminology employed in these cases is reminiscent of Assyrian royal inscriptions describing the deportations of population groups with their possessions from conquered territories, which refer

191. Oded 1979: 19–​22. 192. As discussed by Radner 2017: 210–​211. 193. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 173: iii 35 and no. 241 C: ll. x +​3–​5 =​Salvini 2008: no. A8-​3: iii 35 and no. A9-​3: ii 3′–​5′.

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to them as “people of my land” or count them “with the inhabitants of Assyria.”194 These rare attestations speak in favor of the practice of deporting conquered communities and resettling them in compact groups, thereby maintaining the integrity of the community, and keeping the communal structures and traditional relationships among the members of the community. In all probability, these communities were obliged by the central authorities to pay taxes and perform labor, or even be conscripted into the military. The relationship between these communities and the Urartian state was much closer than that between the hundreds of thousands of prisoners of war who were dependents of the state.

44.7.4.  Urartian religion Many monumental Urartian inscriptions refer to the construction of temples and other cultic structures by the country’s kings. Išpuini and Minua were the most productive rulers in this regard, and a significant number of known structures were erected during their reigns.195 So-​ called gates were both the first attested and the most common Urartian structures of worship. These are rock-​cut niches symbolizing the entrance of the “house” in a mountain or in a rock cliff where a god “lived.” Near Tušpa, the Urartian capital, Išpuini and Minua constructed an impressive monumental “Gate of Haldi” (figure 44.7). In later tradition, this “gate” was called “Mheri Dur” (in Armenian) or “Meher Kapısı” (in Turkish, both meaning “Door of the god Mithra”).196 The inscription left on the rock-​cut surface of this “gate” details a long list of sacrifices for the gods and serves as our most important source for the reconstruction of the Urartian state pantheon, the hierarchy of the gods and the rituals connected with the seasonal cultivation of vineyards. The list includes forty-​eight names, not including the groups of nameless deities of the

194. E.g. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.5: iii 6; Frame 2020: no. 1: ll. 248–​249. 195. Grekyan 2006: 150–​151, Table 1–​2. 196. Salvini 1994: 205–​206.

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Figure 44.7. The “Gate of Haldi” at Mheri Dur/​Meher Kapısı, a rock-​ cut niche bearing the Urartian cuneiform inscription of Išpuini and Minua. Photograph by author.

“lands,” the “mountains,” and the “lakes/​bodies of water,” and the “gods of sacrifices,” as well as various deified aspects of the god Haldi, the principal god of the Urartian state. The sacrifices listed in the text refer to seventy deities, some of which were included in two separate groups of divinities figuring under one name, like dInuanili or “female deities.”197 The god-​list of Mheri Dur/​Meher Kapısı resulted from a political effort to create an artificially structured pantheon of gods of various origins and layers. Presumably, by the end of Minua’s reign, the state pantheon had little in common with that structure and was limited to no more than two dozen deities. Haldi was first mentioned in Urartian inscriptions by Išpuini, the only king who called himself the “shadow” of this god. There is little doubt that the emergence of the cult of Haldi as the state religion was

197. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 38 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​1.

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a result of political processes implemented by Išpuini and Minua, his immediate successor.198 Haldi was an all-​powerful god who embodied different aspects of worship. He was a rock-​born hero or a mountain god, a dying-​and-​rising sun, a warrior and a god of war, a fertility deity, and perhaps also the lord of the netherworld. In many respects he resembled Aššur, the god of Assyria.199 In Urartu, the cult of Haldi became paramount.200 Not surprisingly, the overwhelming majority of known Urartian cultic structures were devoted to him. These have names like “Gate of Haldi,” “susi-​temple of Haldi,” “House of Haldi,” or “Stele of Haldi.”201 Among the approximately one hundred attestations in the corpus of Urartian texts, more than twenty refer to the construction of temples dedicated to Haldi, while only two were constructed for other deities. In fact, all cultic ceremonies were carried out in structures connected with the chief god. One almost gains the impression that in Urartu, the concept of temple was synonymous with a temple for Haldi.202 This may derive from the ideology of the state, as from the late ninth century bc onward, only a small circle of gods figure in the inscriptions, perhaps those who represented the ancestral gods of the royal house or the ruling elite. After Haldi, the next best-​attested deities are Teišeba and Šivini, the gods of thunder and of the sun, respectively; both name and function mirror their Hurrian counterparts Teššub and Šimige. Together with Haldi, they formed the supreme triad of the pantheon. Other deities included the moon god (whose name was possibly realized as Šelardi); Quera, who may have been conceived as a serpent-​or dragon-​like, chthonic deity; Hutuini, the god of faith; the mountain gods Nalaini and Ura; and some gods of likely Mesopotamian origin including the Sebetti (“The Seven,” corresponding to the heavenly constellation of the

198. Salvini 1987; 1989. 199. Grekyan 2015b (with references). 200. E.g., Ghapantsyan 1940: 114. 201. E.g., Hmayakyan 1990: 69–​70. 202. Petrosyan 2006: 261.

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Pleiades). Haldi’s consort Warubani, probably a goddess of fertility, figures often in the cultic texts, whereas other female deities are attested only once or twice. There are also some “newcomer” gods who are not yet listed in the inscription of Mheri Dur/​Meher Kapısı. These include the gods Iubša and Santaš, who are of Anatolian origin, and the goddess Aniqu.203 Somewhat surprisingly perhaps, Aššur, the main deity of Urartu’s rival power Assyria, is attested among the Urartian deities in two texts dated to the late eighth century bc.204

44.7.5.  The state’s organization and administrative structures The royal ideology of the Urartian state was based on a theocratic conception of power. Central to the concept was the cult of Haldi, the supreme god of the Urartian state pantheon, who was perceived as the real king and active ruler of the state. Members of the Urartian ruling dynasty received their legal power in order to govern and guard Haldi’s land. Hence, the kings called themselves “servants of the god Haldi” who acted according to the “will” and “by the command” of the god, for the “greatness” and “might” of Haldi. As a rule, descriptions of the deeds of kings in the royal annals were summarized using a particular formula announcing the accomplishment of “mighty deeds” in one year “for the sake of the god Haldi.”205 The Urartian king was represented as an earthly manifestation of the god Haldi, his “shadow,” as Išpuini, son of Sarduri, the founder of the Biainian state, called himself. With that image, the kings executed their religious, military, administrative, and judicial duties. In the Urartian inscriptions, the king often referred to himself as the “true shepherd of the peoples.” In one of the texts, the king says,

203. Grekyan 2006. 204. Cf. Zimansky 2017. 205. E.g. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 173: ii 3 =​Salvini 2008: no. A8-​3: ii 3.

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“I guide well what is my concern . . . the keeper of the consecration.”206 The image of the king as a “good shepherd” who took care of his people had a common ancient Near Eastern background.207 Urartian kings were not only highly involved in the religious life of the land, taking an active role in ceremonies and divinatory procedures, but also appear to have been the supreme priests—​true priest-​kings. It is not surprising that the kings themselves set the order and time of sacrifices, or the numbers of sacrificed animals. They often traveled the land, visiting different cities and making sacrifices. As priest-​kings, they functioned as intermediaries between the supreme god and his subjects. Acting in the name of the god Haldi, the king had absolute authority to resolve issues relating to both foreign affairs and everyday life. He personally met with foreign delegations, conducted diplomatic correspondence, and gave orders to his representatives. Several Neo-​Assyrian texts refer to Urartian delegates as “emissaries” or “messengers” of the Urartian king.208 According to Assyrian intelligence reports, the Urartian kings corresponded with, for example, the rulers of Šubria and of Kumme.209 The Urartian kings were entrusted by Haldi with the task of expanding his realm, strengthening his land, and constructing fortresses “as protection of the land of Biainili and for the intimidation of the enemy lands.”210 Like Haldi, who was the head of the warrior gods and the Urartian army in the battle against the Assyrians, artistically depicted on one of the Urartian bronze shields,211 Urartian kings were also the heads of their armies, personally leading troops on campaign and into battle.

206. Salvini 2008: no. A10-​3: vo. 35 (Assyrian version). 207. Goodnick Westenholz 2004: 281–​310. 208. E.g., Parpola 1987: no. 10: l. 14; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 3: l. 15. 209. E.g., Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 95. 210. Thus Argišti, son of Minua: Salvini 2008: no. A8-​1: rev. 16–​17; A8-​3: ii 33–​34; A8-​17: 5–​6; A8-​18: 5–​6; A8-​19: 5–​6; Sarduri, son of Argišti: Salvini 2008: no. A9-​3: iv 16′–​17′; Rusa son of Sarduri: Salvini 2008: no. A10-​1: 6–​7; no. A10-​ 2: 18; Argišti, son of Rusa: Salvini 2008: no. A11-​4: 10; no. A11-​6: 12. 211. Belli 1999: fig. 17.

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This is confirmed by both Urartian and Assyrian cuneiform inscriptions. A large number of those sources deal with the Assyrian-​Urartian conflict in 719–​709 bc, including the detailed description of the battle of Mount Uauš in Sargon II’s “Letter to the god Aššur,” which one may describe as the highpoint of the conflict.212 A further duty of the Urartian king was to secure the prosperity of the land. Many Urartian texts refer to the construction of extensive hydrological works and wasteland brought under cultivation, as well as to the construction of fortresses, temples, cities, and rural settlements. An expression of this particular duty of the king is contained in a unique phrase in one of the Urartian texts, “the land was cultivated, barley fields . . . a vineyard was laid out, the country/​people rejoiced at Minua’s reign.”213 Both Urartian and Neo-​Assyrian texts also testify to the king’s role as the executor of supreme judicial authority.214 The “royal city” of Tušpa, mentioned in both Urartian and Assyrian sources, was the residence of the kings, and the state was administered from here with the help of a large number of high-​ranking officials and other functionaries. Members of the Urartian royal court are mentioned several times in Neo-​Assyrian sources. The “Letter to the god Aššur” mentions “palace eunuchs” (Assyrian ša rēši), “counselors” (Assyrian māliku) and “provincial governors” (Assyrian bēl pāhiti) in the service of the Urartian king.215 Other Neo-​Assyrian texts mention Urartian “magnates,” both eunuchs and “bearded courtiers.”216 Otherwise, there are no indications of the existence of a “central government,” a close circle of high officials, responsible for specific spheres of governance, within the royal court. The most important source for understanding the structure of Urartian central power and provincial administration is one of the

212. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 96–​146. 213. Khachikyan 2011: 99. 214. E.g., Arutjunjan 2001: no. 520; Salvini 2012a: no. CT Kb-​7; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 91: ll. 13–​20. 215. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 137–​138. 216. E.g., Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 91: l. 11; no. 93: l. 3′.

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cuneiform tablets found at Toprakkale. This text is a list of officials, other members of staff, and further social groups linked to the state economy. The total number of personnel is 5,507 people, 1,113 of whom were members of the ruling elite. The list also includes 3,892 eunuchs, including functionaries, craftsmen, and a large group of dependents; another group of eunuchs numbering 108 persons designated as “eunuchs of the palace;” and a further 394 other functionaries or guardsmen.217 Dozens of other texts mention different officials, servants, and groups of people closely linked to the royal court or provincial administrations. There is no doubt that within the range of high-​ranking officials, the provincial governors stood first. They are mentioned quite frequently in Urartian display inscriptions, and sometimes even by name, although this was rare and must reflect the particular importance of that office and the high position of its holder. Undoubtedly, provincial governors had military authority, and their participation in the campaigns of Urartian kings or involvement in performing military service is attested several times, both in Urartian and Assyrian sources. At the same time, it is interesting that provincial governors rarely received letters from the Urartian king. This may indicate that the involvement of governors in palace/​ temple economy or the provincial/​everyday life regulated by the king’s decrees was quite limited. It may also suggest that there were two distinct hierarchies—​military and civilian—​in provincial administrations.218 It is not impossible that the office of military governor of a province was the same as that of commander of the provincial troops. As a royal appointee, provincial governors were close to royal power and were responsible for keeping control in the provinces and for securing their borders. The non-​military or civilian staff of the Urartian provincial administrations was most likely headed by officials called “seal bearers.” The bearers of this office are mentioned often in the Urartian royal letters, the majority of which were directly addressed to them. It is obvious that “seal bearers” held a high position in the provincial administrations,

217. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 412 =​Salvini 2012a: no. CT Tk-​1. 218. Cf. also Diakonoff 1963: 26–​27; Zimansky 1985: 92–​93.

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second only to the governors. In one royal letter, the name of the “seal bearer” is mentioned directly after the name of the provincial governor, the first addressee of the letter.219 It can be assumed that these officials were authorized to keep and use the “royal” seals on behalf of the king as civilian governors.220 It is no coincidence that such officials were active in different administrative centers, and in all cases, we find different persons holding that office. Another high-​ranking official was the “palace treasurer” (literally, “man of silver of the palace”).221 The functions of this official seem comparable with the masennu, the high-​ranking official in the Assyrian state administration whose title is usually translated as the “treasurer.”222 Another important official was the “man of the palace/​ fortress.” This may have been a “palace administrator,” like the rab ekalli at the Assyrian royal court. Interestingly, after provincial governorship, this was the second, and only other, office mentioned in Urartian display inscriptions.223 One damaged text also mentions a few thousand horses and it is reasonable to assume the existence of a steward of the royal stables. More than ten different offices mentioned in the Urartian texts represent lower-​ranking officials, such as “overseer/​inspector” (LÚ.IGI. LÁ) or “accountant” (LÚ.NÍG.ŠID(.DA)). In the already mentioned text from Toprakkale, 119 persons are listed as “(standing) in front of LÚ.NÍG.ŠID(.DA)-​official.” Among these were scribes and/​or other accountants, as well as persons who were sent to the provinces to register the year’s harvest and supervise the herds. Interestingly, another tablet from Toprakkale enumerates the number of large and small cattle of certain persons (herdsmen/​shepherds?) of a village, which

219. E.g., Arutjunjan 2001: no. 432: obv. 3–​4 =​Salvini 2012a: no. CT Ba-​3: ro. 3–​4. 220. For contemporary Assyrian practices, see Radner 2008a; Nadali 2009–​2010. 221. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 433: obv. 2 =​Salvini 2012a: no. CT Kb-​3: ro. 2; no. CB Ay-​51: l. 4. 222. Mattila 2000: 26–​27, 161–​162. 223. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 483: l. 1 =​Salvini 2008: no. A18-​5: l. 1.

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were “inspected.”224 Further terms designating officials or functionaries include the LÚ.kuruhi, the LÚ.šiardia, the LÚ.arudi and an official called LÚ.adahini, but nothing is known of their roles, functions, or duties. There is some evidence regarding steps aimed at enhancing the effectiveness of governance by creating state archives and keeping records of everyday activities. Some texts mention the receipt of “inscribed tablets/​ writing boards” or summarize dozens or hundreds of “seals” (i.e., “sealed [tablets]” or “sealed [leather scrolls]”). Unfortunately, the number of texts written on clay tablets or bullae is barely more than one hundred specimens and no writing boards have survived.225 The information obtained from the preserved sources is too scanty to provide a complete picture of the functions carried out by different members of the royal court and provincial administrations. Both Urartian and Assyrian sources indicate that Urartu was divided into administrative units under the authority of provincial governors (LÚ.NAM or LÚ.EN.NAM). The title itself goes back to the second millennium bc Assyro-​Mittanian tradition and was adopted by the Urartian scribal school.226 The earliest evidence for the transformation of conquered territories into provinces under the control of a provincial governor appears in an inscription of Minua, son of Išpuini, at the end of the ninth century bc. His son and successor, Argišti, mentions appointing governors in three districts conquered from the land of Diauhi. A stone inscription of Sarduri, son of Argišti, near Palu (eastern Turkey), mentions the boundaries of another newly organized province, stretching “to (the land of ) Miliṭia,” “to (the land of ) Qu[maha],” “to (the city of ) Nihria of (the land of ) Arme” and “to (the land of ) Hašime[ . . . ].”227 The locations of these toponyms indicate that the new province covered a vast territory from the curve of the Upper Euphrates well into northern

224. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 447 =​Salvini 2012a: CT Tk-​2. 225. Grekyan 2019: 248–​249, Table 1. 226. Grekyan 2019: 254. Cf. also Zimansky 1985: 89–​90. 227. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 59 A: ll. 18–​19, C: l. 9; no. 174 B1: ll. 8–​17 =​Salvini 2008: no. A5-​8: ro. 18–​19, no. A8-​2: vo. 8′–​17′, no. A9-​18: ll. 6–​11.

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Syria, as if embracing the entire southwest of Urartu. If the other provinces also initially included such vast areas, then it would appear that, by the middle of the eighth century bc, Urartian provinces compared well with the extensive domains under the authority of Assyrian governors at this time. Certain data suggest that during the reign of Rusa, son of Sarduri, the administrative structure of the state was reorganized. Formerly vast domains were split up into smaller units, and the powers of the governors, as well as the means and possibilities at their disposal, were apparently restricted. In this respect, the administrative reforms of Tiglath-​pileser III of Assyria, aimed at ending the existence of semi-​independent domains, may have served as an example for Rusa. After their reorganization, dozens of provinces were carved out of the formerly vast areas under Urartian control.228 Assyrian sources attest to the existence of at least thirty provinces in the Urartian state. In one of his inscriptions, Tiglath-​pileser III mentions the conquest of eighteen “districts” (nagû), in the southern, southwestern, and western parts of Urartu. The lands of Kummuh and Enzi, the river Euphrates, and the land of Ṣupa(ni)/​Ṣuppa, later Sophene, are all mentioned in the text.229 In 714 bc, during his campaign against Urartu, Sargon II and his army marched through at least seven provinces, around Lake Urmia, in northwestern Iran.230 An Assyrian text reporting an invasion by Cimmerian tribes on Urartian territories mentions eleven governors who launched a campaign against the invaders. Another text names nine Urartian governors who were defeated and killed with their troops during the same campaign.231 In their reports, governors of Assyrian provinces bordering Urartu frequently refer to their Urartian counterparts, often mentioning the governors by name and sometimes simply referring to “the governor

228. Diakonoff 1951: 111–​112. 229. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 49: ll. 20′–​23′. 230. Frame 2020: no. 65: l. 422. 231. Parpola 1987: no. 31: l. 11; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 91: ll. 5–​15.

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opposite me” (bēl pāhete ša pūt PN/​GN). The governor of one Urartian province was described as “next to the Ukkeans” (bēl pāhete ša qanni Ukkāyê).232 It is interesting that Assyrian texts mention the names of two different officials who governed that province within a short period of time.233 The last major changes to the state structure were the work of Rusa, son of Argišti. The large city-​building projects of this king and the foundation of new urban centers were probably connected with new administrative divisions. We assume that the country was once again subdivided into large domains under the administrative authority of newly appointed viceroys.234

44.7.6.  The state’s acquisition, storage, and redistribution of goods To support the Urartian population and economy, the state needed to have extensive lands under cultivation. These were mainly located in the lower-lying parts of the highlands, such as the Ararat valley in Armenia. These regions are termed “deserted,” “waste/​uncultivated,” and “thirsty” lands in Urartian texts. The development of new lands and the settlement of new territories was one of the priorities of the Urartian kings and, unsurprisingly, almost one-​fifth of all display inscriptions are connected to the construction of new rural settlements and canals for irrigating newly laid grain fields, vineyards, and orchards. Formerly deserted territories were turned into productive, prosperous centers of the Urartian state. To keep the irrigation system functional and the lands under cultivation, as well as to assume control of dependent populations numbering in the tens of thousands, the central authority had to secure its permanent presence in these regions. This was done by establishing

232. E.g., Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 147: l. 10; no. 286: l. 4. 233. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 87: ll. 7–​8, no. 88: ll. 12–​rev. 1. 234. E.g., Zimansky 2012: 104.

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military-​administrative centers or “palace/​temples.” In addition to exercising military authority, these multifunctional complexes coordinated agricultural labor, handicrafts, animal husbandry, and exchange relationships or foreign trade, from the planning, production, registration, and storage stages to the redistribution of resources to social groups linked to the palace/​temple economy of each region. Hence, the Urartian “palace/​temple” was the organizer of an economy based on a redistributive system. In order to accumulate grain reserves and secure the state’s capability for redistribution, the royal power built large granaries (É.’ari).235 Usually, these granaries were built inside the fortification walls of the “palace/​temple,” where they were supervised by the local administration and protected by the garrison, similar to the “royal granaries” (URU/​ É.karmu) of the Middle and Neo-​Assyrian periods.236 In addition, collection areas were located near the fields, perhaps within walled precincts. Describing the march of the Assyrian troops through Urartian territory, the “Letter to the god Aššur” mentions the walled cities of Tarui and Tarmakisa near which stood a royal granary, a “house of abundant barley,” of the Urartian king. The same source also refers frequently to “grain in measureless quantities” that was seized by the invading Assyrians and used to feed their troops.237 Nearly four dozen inscriptions on stone mention the construction of granaries. These constitute roughly one-​seventh of all Urartian display inscriptions, indicating the importance given by the Urartian kings to the accumulation of grain supplies. Eleven such inscriptions, recording the storage of around 110,000 kapi of grain, were found at a single “palace/​ temple” complex at Erebuni. Nine other inscriptions from Sardurihinili mention the construction of granaries with a total capacity of around 90,000 kapi. On average, each granary usually contained 5,000–​10,000 kapi of grain, while the largest could hold 30,000 kapi (around 750,000

235. On granaries in Urartu and neighboring states, see Christiansen 2019. 236. Faist and Llop 2012. 237. E.g., Frame 2020: no. 65: l. 186.

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liters). The extant inscriptions refer to over 414,000 kapi (ca. 10.3 million liters) of grain. The largest amount of grain mentioned in an Urartian text exceeded 1 million kapi (25.5 million liters or 16,500 tons) of grain. Granaries are attested archaeologically at all major Urartian administrative centers.238 More than 7.7 million liters of grain (5,000 tons) could be stored in the granaries of Argištihinili. The storage facilities of the “City of the God Teišeba of the Land of Waza” (modern Karmir Blur) may have held up to 2.3 million liters, or around 1,500 tons. Cereals were also stored in the large pithoi of the wine cellars, the capacities of which were recorded in both cuneiform and hieroglyphic signs. Like granaries, wine cellars were extremely important to the Urartian kings. The cellars at major Urartian administrative centers generally held up to 500 pithoi (e.g., at Karmir Blur: figure 44.8). The total capacity of Urartian wine cellars, considering both excavated examples and those mentioned in written sources, reached 2 million liters. State-​owned resources were subject to redistribution. The distribution of daily and monthly rations to the social groups linked to the institutional households is evidenced on the bullae found at Rusahinili-​ Eidurukai (modern Ayanis). A short inscription on one of these bullae recorded the receipt by a certain person of six BANEŠ barley (around 150 liters):239 enough to feed a family of four people for two months. In general, the total amount (414,000 kapi) of barley mentioned in the Urartian inscriptions would be enough to provide around 6,500 families or 33,000 people with bread for a year. The redistribution of 60 percent of the grain reserves stored in four major Urartian centers (Erebuni =​Arin Berd, Argištihinili =​Armavir, Sardurihinili =​Çavuştepe, and the “City of Teišeba of the Land of Waza” =​Karmir Blur) would have been sufficient to feed at least 8,700 families or a population of 35,000–​44,000 for an entire year, while the rest could be used as seed or as fodder, e.g., for the horses of the royal stables. The largest quantity of grain, equaling around 25.5 million liters, could provide bread to more than 26,000 families or up to 130,000 people throughout a whole year. 238. For a survey of the evidence, see Dan 2016. 239. Salvini 2012a: no. CB Ay-​1.

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Figure 44.8.  View of the large cellar with 72 pithoi, as excavated in 1950 at the citadel of the “City of the God Teišeba of the Land of Waza” (Urartian Teišebaini-​ URU-​ KUR.Wazae, modern Karmir Blur). Reproduced from Piotrovskij 1970: Fig. 10a.

Nevertheless, this does not mean that the entire population under Urartian control was provided for by the state. Rather, it seems likely that the accumulation and redistribution of resources by the state were directed to limited groups of people closely linked to the palace.240 This system of redistribution is evidenced by the use of measurement standards of size, weight, and volume and the use of standardized products that were produced in great quantities in state workshops. This was especially true of pottery. State workshops produced typically Urartian, wheel-​made, red-​slipped wares, so-​called Palace Ware (German Palastkeramik).241 The same phenomenon is observed in the Middle Assyrian period (­chapter 32 in volume 3),

240. Compare, e.g., the system used in Crete during its Neopalatial period; see Hiller 1988: 63; Christakis 2011: 202–​203. 241. Kroll 1976: 152 n. 233.

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when the Assyrian pottery had characteristics comparable to the later Urartian pottery.242 A part of the state’s revenue was generated from the yearly taxes imposed on its subject peoples. A group of inscribed bullae discovered at Ayanis refers to the quantity and type of provisions received for the storehouses of the “palace/​temple,” also indicating their places of origin—​different settlements, entire communities, or lands—​which resembles the Neo-​Assyrian practice.243 Taxes were also collected from a number of tributary states, such as Diauhi, one of Urartu’s richest neighbors to the north. Taxes took the form of domestic animals, metals, and finished products.244 To date, no clear evidence of taxes collected from state lands has been found. Another important source of revenue was plunder. According to texts from the late ninth to the early eighth century bc, the number of heads of livestock brought to Urartu following military campaigns reached as high as 300,000 large animals, and more than a million heads of small cattle. This does not include tens of thousands of horses and a much smaller number of camels. Each year, on average, as many as 8,000–​9,000 large cattle, 30,000 small cattle, and approximately 600 horses were seized during Urartian military campaigns. This far exceeded in value the taxes received from subject peoples, particularly considering the fact that Urartian texts usually do not mention the soldiers’ share of this war booty. The centralized nature of the Urartian economy largely restricted economic relations between different regions of the realm, hindered private enterprise, and kept foreign trade exclusively under the control of the state. Thus, there are no grounds for speaking of pricing or the existence of a free market in general. It is no coincidence that in the preserved archives there are no traces of private business interactions like sales or credit contracts. Moreover, there are no sources that explicitly

242. Cf. Postgate 2010: 27. 243. Fales and Postgate 1995: xx–​xxiii and nos. 49–​75. 244. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 174 B1: ll. 20–​25 =​Salvini 2008: no. A8-​2: vo. 20′–​25′.

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mention Urartian merchants. On the other hand, there is no reason to exclude the possible existence of merchants who acted for the “palace/​ temple,” and the designation LÚ.KASKAL “man of the road,” attested on a tablet in the archive of Karmir Blur, may refer to a messenger or a merchant.245 In general, Urartian foreign policy and campaigns beyond the natural borders of the Armenian highlands were motivated by economic concerns. The state’s interest in foreign trade can be seen in its quite successful struggle against Assyria over the course of almost half a century. For a time, the Urartians were able to block Assyria’s access to the ore-​ mining regions.246 On the other hand, we assume that trade relations between Urartu and its neighbors were not strong at all.247 Nevertheless, the control of trade routes would have been irrelevant if they had not been used to export Urartian metal products. In this respect, Urartian authorities most likely appealed to intermediaries, a role that may have been successfully played by the post-​Hittite kingdoms in the west or the southern buffer states in the Taurus Mountains, such as Kumme and Muṣaṣir. The latter, in particular, would have played an important role in the overland trade when we consider its geographical position, its status as a “sacred city,” and its significance as a cult center, as well as its close relationship to both the Urartian and Assyrian states. A huge number of bronze ingots and weaponry numbering several hundred thousand items, most of which were probably Urartian products,248 were stored and ready to export to external markets. Interestingly, an Assyrian report mentions Kummeans smuggling luxury items.249 One manifestation of foreign trade was gift exchange between Urartian kings and members of the ruling houses of other states.250 One such 245. Salvini 2012a: no. CT Kb-​1: ro. 9. 246. Batsieva 1953; Wäfler 1986. 247. van Loon 1977; Burney 2012: 59. 248. Frame 2020: no. 65: l. 369. 249. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 100. 250. De Mieroop 2004: 60–​61.

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example appears in an Assyrian report from the period of tension between Urartu and the kingdom of Šubria: the Urartian king Argišti, son of Rusa, demanded that Hu-​Teššub of Šubria give back the jewelry that “my father and I gave you,” probably because he did not receive an equivalent “gift.”251

44.7.7.  Urartu’s military organization The earliest evidence of Urartian military force and warfare appears in the early Neo-​Assyrian cuneiform sources and iconography, in the context of Assyrian campaigns against Arramu the Urartian, which depict his infantrymen fighting in the mountains and offer some numerical data about the losses sustained by Arramu’s army. The sources also describe the seizure of his royal city and military camp filled with equipment and rich possessions, chariots, horses, and numerous cavalry,252 assuming these are not just stereotypical Assyrian statements about defeated enemies. The early Urartian warfare iconography and the rich collection of military equipment prove that in the reign of Išpuini and later, during his co-​regency with his son Minua, a state-​supplied standing army existed that was clearly divided into chariotry, cavalry, infantry, and garrison units, and equipped with standardized weaponry produced in state workshops.253 In the texts of that period, Urartian armed forces are indicated by a logogram (LÚ.KUR.KUR.MEŠ, i.e., “[men of ] the lands” or “[armed] people”) that expressed a more general meaning than “army.” Shortly thereafter, at the end of the ninth century bc, this logogram ceased to be used and was replaced with the term LÚ.hurade (logographically LÚ.A.SI.MEŠ), a term rooted in second millennium bc Syro-​Mesopotamian tradition that referred to the professional soldiers or elite troops of Mittani and elsewhere in northern Syria, and to the regular Assyrian troops of the Middle Assyrian period.254 251. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 31: rev. 13′–​17′. 252. E.g., Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 47–​56; A.0.102.5: ii 5−iii 3. 253. Hmayakyan 2003: 105. 254. E.g., Freydank 1976; Heltzer 1979; Vita 2002: 124; Jakob 2003: 202–​208; Vidal 2005: 654–​655.

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The Neo-​Assyrian sources mostly refer to the Urartian “new army.” Military reform in Urartu evolved after the heavy defeats that Sarduri son of Argišti suffered at the hands of Tiglath-​pileser III, and was fully implemented by Rusa, son of Sarduri, who apparently copied the military reforms of the Assyrian king, to some extent modeling his army on that of the Assyrian Empire. As in Assyria, the “royal regiment” (Akkadian kiṣir šarrūti), consisting of chariot-​troops and cavalry, and possibly select units of infantrymen as well, formed the core of the new Urartian army. This elite unit is mentioned twice in Sargon II’s “Letter to the god Aššur.”255 Interestingly, a “royal soldier” is also mentioned in one of the Urartian texts (LÚ.ÉRIN−MAN).256 In the ninth and eighth centuries bc, chariotry was the most prestigious unit of the Urartian army, retaining that status for the rest of the period. In martial iconography, Urartian chariot-​warriors are usually depicted pursuing Assyrian soldiers or some other overwhelmed enemy.257 In the early period, the army used two types of chariots: light, open-​sided chariots, and heavier models with a carriage box that was closed on the sides and protected by a shield in the rear. Wheels had six spokes, although these were later replaced by eight-​spoke wheels. The chariot crew consisted of two soldiers—​a man of mari or noble chariot-​ warrior, usually an archer, and a driver. Interestingly, late Urartian depictions show chariots with a modified structure and a crew which included a shield-​bearer/​lancer, or a second archer.258 The wheels always had eight spokes and light chariots were no longer used. Two large quivers resembling the Scythian gorytos were attached to the sides of the carriage box. Similar improvements are attested in contemporary Assyrian chariotry and may reflect cultural interaction. At this time, the largest number of Urartian chariots recorded on campaign exceeded one

255. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 171, 191. 256. Salvini 2012a: no. CT Çav-​1: ro. 6′. 257. Grekyan 2014a. 258. E.g., Burney 1966: 77–​78, fig. 10, pl. 9b; Seidl 2004: 90 fig. 56, 113 fig. 85.

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hundred units,259 but this increased significantly during the following period. The motif of the “empty chariot” was connected to the worship of the god Haldi.260 This took the form of a chariot driven in front of the troops, as if the god were leading the army, and may be what Assyrian sources called the king’s “royal processional chariot.”261 In reality, the king was at the head of the army and usually he led the troops in person, and several Urartian bronzes depict the king driving his royal chariot.262 An Urartian text of the late ninth century bc that describes a military campaign in northwestern Iran mentions mounted soldiers of around 9,500 men among the army units. This cavalry force made up almost one-​third of the standing army. The high number mentioned here and in other Urartian texts was unprecedented at that time, indicating the important role played by the cavalry and mounted warfare in general. Certainly, the cavalry formed the backbone of the Urartian army from the earliest period of its existence, while in the Assyrian Empire the cavalry, as a separate army unit, was formed much later, in the second half of the eighth century bc, after the military reforms of Tiglath-​pileser III or even during the time of Sargon II.263 In early Urartian iconography of the ninth century bc, cavalrymen are depicted in pairs, one as a mounted archer. A large number of bronze artifacts of later date depict individual horsemen equipped with different arms and protective gear. The equipment of the heavily armed Urartian horseman included a lance, bow, sword, and small round shield. Sometimes the rider was protected by metal scale armor. As a rule, all horsemen wore conical bronze helmets. The light cavalry consisted of mounted archers and spearmen. The spears used were short, resembling

259. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 35: obv. i 14, ii 44, rev. iii 16 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​9: ro. 14, 44, vo. 16, 260. Calmeyer 1991: 313–​315, fig. 2. 261. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 9: l. 12′. 262. Sevin 2007: 722, figs. 3–​4. 263. Dalley 1985: 37; Nadali 2010: 133.

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javelins. Some horsemen were depicted with two spears in their hands (unless this is meant to be a schematic depiction of a pair of horsemen).264 Sargon II of Assyria’s “Letter to the god Aššur” provides a colorful description of horse breeding in Urartu, and mentions stables which supplied the royal regiment with mounts. The city of Aniaštania in the Lake Urmia basin was called a “house of his [i.e., Rusa’s] herds” (URU.Aniaštania bīt sugullātešu). Tarui and Tarmakisa are also mentioned as places where horses reserved for the “royal regiment” were bred.265 These seem to have been permanent stations for chariotry and cavalry units with barracks, stables, large granaries, and stockpiles of fodder. They had fortifications and hence were considered “cities.” A similar complex was unearthed close to Bastam (Urartian Rusai-​URU.TUR, “Rusa’s Small City”) in northwestern Iran. The East Building (German “Ostbau”) of the complex was a stable that could have housed 60–​70 horses. In addition, an equestrian training arena covering over 2 hectares, surrounded by a fortification wall, was revealed.266 The Urartians were known as skilled horse-​trainers, and even the Assyrian state was interested in their services.267 Equestrian training competitions included jumping and archery. Urartian kings participated in these and, in at least two cases, emerged as winners.268 The infantry formed by far the largest part of the standing army. Urartian sources sometimes mention the number of foot soldiers participating in campaigns, which in one case numbered around 15,760 infantrymen, and in another case may have exceeded 12,700.269 Neo-​Assyrian sources mention Urartian archers, slingers, lancers or spearmen, sometimes identified as shield-​bearers, and armored warriors.270

264. E.g., Yesayan 1986; Kellner 1991; de Brestian 2005–​2007: figs. 2–​6. 265. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 167–​173, 184–​191. 266. Kleiss 1980: 300; 1988: 13–​17, figs. 2–​3; also Kroll 1989. 267. Dalley 1985: 42–​43, 48. 268. Arutjunjan 2001: nos. 136 and 408 =​Salvini 2008: nos. A5-​91 and A11-​7. 269. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 32: l. 14; no. 33: l. 17; no. 35: obv. i 15, rev. iii 18 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​5: ro. 14, vo. 17; no. A3-​9: ro 15, vo. 18. 270. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 131, 136, 289.

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The infantry was divided into two categories: light infantry, which included archers and spearmen, and heavily armed foot soldiers, whose equipment included bows, swords, spears, and shields. Sometimes soldiers wore scale armor.271 Without exception, all wore conical bronze helmets. A large proportion of the infantry was stationed in garrisons across the kingdom. Bastam had a garrison of up to 600–​700 soldiers. The number of troops stationed in a garrison could be as high as 12,000–​ 15,000 men. Auxiliary army forces included sappers who carried out construction projects, such as bridge building and road repair.272 Although the Urartian texts repeatedly mention the seizure of fortified enemy cities and hundreds of fortresses, it is not known whether siege engines were employed. To date, only one, as yet unpublished fragment of an Urartian bronze belt depicting a kneeling soldier protecting himself and shooting archers with a large, F-​shaped shield is known. Such siege-​shields were widely used in the Assyrian army and elsewhere.273 There seems to have been a well-​organized information network, for Neo-​Assyrian sources often mention Urartian spies, and the Urartian city Uayais was referred to as a “dwelling place of spies.”274 On campaign, Urartian soldiers lived in tents. Describing a victory over Sarduri, son of Argišti, and his allies, the royal annals of Tiglath-​pileser III mention the capture of Sarduri’s “pavilion,” his “royal tent” with rich possessions, after which the whole camp and its war materials were set on fire by the Assyrians.275 Generally speaking, there is little information about the overall size of the Urartian army. Some sources indicate that by the period of the co-​ regency of Išpuini and Minua the Urartian state was capable of bringing

271. E.g., Vanden Berghe and Meyer 1982: 78, 130 (fig. 38, no. 22), 163 (no. 96); Kellner 1991a: nos. 19, 21, 83, 117–​118, 182–​183, 186–​187, 441, pl. 6–​7/​19, 21, 22–​ 23/​83, 34–​35/​117–​118, 46–​47/​182, 48–​49/​183, 186–​187, 87/​441. 272. Parpola 1987: no. 29: rev. 5–​6. 273. De Backer 2011. 274. Frame 2020: no. 65: l. 300; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 12: l. 6′. 275. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 9: ll. 14′–​15′.

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22,000–​26,000 soldiers to the battlefield. As Urartu gained power and territory, its army consumed more and more resources, both domestic and foreign. The annals of Sarduri, son of Argišti, mention 92 chariots, 3,600 horsemen, and more than 352,011 soldiers—​both mounted and foot soldiers.276 The interpretation of this text is difficult, however, and it is not clear whether these numbers represent the sum total of the Urartian army or the number of men capable of military service.277 Uniquely, in the early eighth century bc the army’s ranks were replenished with some 30,000 prisoners of war, identified in the sources as “men of war.”278 During a decisive battle that took place in northern Syria against the Assyrian army of Tiglath-​pileser III in 743 bc, if we believe the Assyrian source, the Urartians and their local allies lost around 73,000 men.279 In 715 bc, tens of thousands of Urartian soldiers were sent to confront the invading hordes of Cimmerian tribes. The army sustained heavy losses in that campaign, which one Assyrian report put at 8,000 Urartian soldiers.280 Although patchy, the sources suggest that the standing Urartian army may have stood at 20,000–​25,000 men or more. On campaign, regular army units were reinforced with professional soldiers recruited on the basis of military service performed in exchange for state-​owned land, as well as by troops contributed on demand by vassal states, thereby increasing the size of the field army by perhaps up to 50,000–​70,000 men.281 The new army of Rusa, son of Sarduri, was modeled on the Assyrian example and probably also adopted Assyrian command structure. Neo-​ Assyrian state letters from this period frequently refer to Urartian senior officers, such as a certain Kaqqadanu as turtānu (“commander-​in-​chief ”),

276. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 241 G: ll. 3–​5 =​Salvini 2008: no. A9–​3: vii 3–​5. 277. Cf., e.g., Zimansky 1985: 57; Diakonoff 1991: 18–​19. 278. Grekyan 2018: 143–​144, Table 1. 279. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 9: l. 9′. 280. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 92: rev. 3. Unfortunately, the context is badly damaged. 281. Cf. Yesayan 1966: 106; Konakçı and Baştürk 2009: 191–​196.

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while some mention a “deputy commander-​in-​chief ” (turtānu šanû) and a “right-​hand commander-​in-​chief ” (turtānu ša imitti) who belonged to the royal family.282 Provincial governors appear frequently as Urartian army commanders, as discussed above. Before his appointment as “commander-​in-​chief ” of the Urartian army, Kaqqadanu had been a provincial governor.283 As in the Assyrian army, the division of the Urartian army was probably based on round decimal numbers. Units were formed of tens, fifties, hundreds, or a thousand soldiers. The provincial troops under the command of Setini, a governor, consisted of 3,000 foot soldiers.284 Interestingly, a commander-​of-​ten is also mentioned on one Urartian clay tablet giving a list of archers receiving bows and arrows.285 The large military units were most likely named after the gods of the Urartian state pantheon. Texts mention sacrifices for the “troops” of Haldi, the supreme god, and Teišeba, the storm god or god of war.286 The rich collection of Urartian bronze art includes standards with either an image of a divinity or representations of their symbols. These standards would have led the unit named after that god, perhaps attached to a chariot.287 As in Assyria, the Urartian state’s increasing demand for troops forced it to draw on military forces from its vassal states. For example, after the victorious campaign against the land of Diauhi, the Urartian king Minua took the troops of the Diauhean king into his service.288 Sargon II’s “Letter to the god Aššur” mentions the soldiers of a tribe stationed in the fortress Sardurihurda, which the source described as

282. Parpola 1987: no. 31; Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 86, 91, and 93, respectively. 283. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: nos. 87 and 89. 284. Lanfranchi and Parpola 1990: no. 88. 285. Salvini 2012a: no. CT An-​1: l. 16. 286. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 38: i 13, ii 22–​23 =​Salvini 2008: no. A3-​1: ll. 13, 53–​54. 287. Seidl 2004: 100–​103, pls. 22–​23. 288. Arutjunjan 2001: no. 53: ll. 18–​23 =​Salvini 2008: no. A5-​3: vi 18–​23.

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“the trust of his country.”289 On analogy with Middle and Neo-​Assyrian evidence, the pirru troops of the Urartian army mentioned in a Neo-​ Assyrian report may have been recruited along territorial or ethnic lines. These units could consist of the military forces of vassal states or prisoners of war, and may have included members of some nomadic tribes, like the Cimmerians and Scythians. The existence of mercenaries in the army also cannot be excluded.290 Thus, in terms of organization, equipment, and military art, the Urartian army was a match for the armies of its time, securing Urartian hegemony over vast territories across the Near East for almost a century.

44.8.  In conclusion The Urartian kingdom was formed and developed in the ninth–​seventh centuries bc in the territories stretching eastward from the Euphrates river, between Lakes Van, Sevan, and Urmia in eastern Turkey, Armenia, and northwestern Iran. This state succeeded in unifying the vast territories of the Armenian highlands and played an important role in the region, spreading its political influence toward Central Anatolia, northern Syria, and western Iran and balancing out the ambitions of the Assyrian Empire. Archaeologically speaking, Urartu’s heritage is represented by dozens of fortresses and large administrative urban centers, organized within highly developed communication networks; extensive systems of irrigation canals; temples and open-​air sanctuaries of a highly characteristic architecture, including the rock-​cut structures dubbed “Gates of Haldi”; and a unique material culture with fine examples of sculpture and wall decorations, and especially thousands of bronze and iron objects (including belts, votives, and defensive and offensive weapons). The cultural heritage of Urartu also includes hundreds of cuneiform inscriptions, found across all areas under its control—​these texts constitute the northernmost boundary of the use of cuneiform in the ancient Near East. 289. Frame 2020: no. 65: ll. 212, 214. 290. Ghapantsyan 1940: 36, 97.

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Some of the Urartian inscriptions were engraved on the surfaces of stone outcrops and therefore were easily visible in later historical periods. Unreadable and enigmatic, they were a cause of wonderment and were attributed, for example, to the legendary Assyrian queen Semiramis by the learned minds of the day. After its collapse in the seventh century bc, Urartu had to wait for more than 2,500 years to be rediscovered in the nineteenth century ad by the pioneers of Urartian studies, who took the first steps toward recovering the mountain kingdom’s rich history and culture. R ef er en c es Abich, H. 1882. Geologie des Armenischen Hochlandes, I: Westhälfte. Vienna: Hölder. Alekseev, A. Yu. 2003. Хронография Европейской Скифии VII–​IV веков до н.э. Saint Petersburg: Izdatel’stvo Gosudarstvennogo Érmitaža. Alizadeh, K. 2020. The earliest Persians in Iran: toponyms and Persian ethnicity. Dabir 7: 16–​53. André-​Salvini, B., and Salvini, M. 2002. The bilingual stele of Rusa I from Movana (West-​Azerbaijan, Iran). Studi micenei ed egeo-​anatolici 44: 5–​66. Arutjunjan, N.V. 2001. Корпус урартских клинообразных надписей. Yerevan: Izdatel’stvo “Gitutjun” AN RA. Avetisyan, P.S., and Bobokhyan, A.A. 2012. The pottery traditions in Armenia from the eighth to the seventh centuries BC. In Kroll, S., Gruber, C., Hellwag, U., Roaf, M., and Zimansky, P. (eds.), Biainili-​Urartu. Leuven: Peeters, 373–​378. Baştürk, M.B. 2013. Urartu devletinin kurucuları üzerine: Labturi? =​? Lutibri, 35 Yıl Sonra, Yeniden. In Tekin, O., Sayar, M.H., and Konyar, E. (eds.), Tarhan armağanı: M. Taner Tarhan’a sunulan makaleler /​Essays in honour of M. Taner Tarhan. Istanbul: Ege, 69–​78. Baştürk, M.B. 2015. Considerations on the belief systems of the Early Iron Age peoples in Lake Van basin. In Işıklı, M., and Can, B. (eds.), International symposium on East Anatolia–​South Caucasus cultures, vol. II. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars, 2–​11. Batmaz, A. 2018. Experiences of the Urartian kingdom with seismic activities: an attempt to reconstruct the earthquakes’ effects. In Batmaz, A.,

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Wiggermann, F.A.M. 2000. Agriculture in the northern Balikh valley: the case of Middle Assyrian Tell Sabi Abyad. In Jas, R.M. (ed.), Rainfall and agriculture in northern Mesopotamia. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 171–​231. Wilhelm, G. 1990. Marijannu. RlA 7: 419–​421. Yesayan, S.A. 1966. Оружие и военное дело древней Армении. Yerevan: Izdatel’stvo Akademii nauk Armjanskoj SSR. Yesayan, S.A. 1986. Доспех древней Армении. Yerevan: YSU Press. Zimansky, P.E. 1985. Ecology and empire: the structure of the Urartian state. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Zimansky, P.E. 1995. Xenophon and the Urartian legacy. Pallas 43: 225–​268. Zimansky, P.E. 1998. Ancient Ararat: a handbook of Urartian studies. Delmar, NY: Caravan Books. Zimansky, P.E. 2005. The cities of Rusa II and the end of Urartu. In Çilingiroğlu, A., and Darbyshire, G. (eds.), Anatolian Iron Ages, vol. 5. Ankara: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, 235–​240. Zimansky, P.E. 2012. Urartu as empire: cultural integration in the kingdom of Van. In Kroll, S., Gruber, C., Hellwag, U., Roaf, M., and Zimansky, P. (eds.), Biainili-​Urartu. Leuven: Peeters, 101–​110. Zimansky, P.E. 2017. Assur among the gods of Urartu. In Heffron, Y., Stone, A., and Worthington, M. (eds.), At the dawn of history: ancient Near Eastern studies in honour of J.N. Postgate. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 753–​763.

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The Kingdom of Phrygia Annick Payne

45.1. Introduction Midas of Phrygia:1 a fool who wished that everything he touched would turn to gold and, once the gods had granted his wish, would have starved to death, had not his “golden touch” been removed.2 Or another type of fool: one who angered the god Apollo by not awarding him first prize in a musical contest, only to be rewarded himself with a fine pair of ass’s ears.3 Through the lens of Greek mythology, Midas appears to be an unfortunate figure. Yet Midas was also a historical person, the ruler of a Central Anatolian Iron Age state (figure 45.1).

1. I am grateful to Lisa Kealhofer, Mirko Novák, and Anne-​Maria Wittke for their comments on the manuscript, to Birgit Christiansen for help with the Urartian texts, to Elizabeth Simpson for permission to reproduce an image, and to Karenleigh Overmann for her editing. The chapter was language-​edited by Denise Bolton. Texts in Anatolian hieroglyphic script are referenced by their place of discovery in capital letters, with a number indicating their sequence of inscriptions found at that location; cf. also ­chapter 46 in this volume. 2. Arist. Pol. 1.1257b; Ov. Met. 11.85; Hyg. Fab. 191. 3. Hyg. Fab. 191. Annick Payne, The Kingdom of Phrygia In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0045

Figure 45.1.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 45. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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Phrygia occupied the western part of the Anatolian plateau, bordering the regions best known by their classical names as Lydia in the west, Cappadocia in the east, Bithynia and Paphlagonia in the north, and Pisidia and Lycaonia in the south. Exact geographical boundaries are far from certain, and changed over time. Phrygian cities are identified in a core area around the upper and middle valley of the Sangarios River (modern Sakarya), of which Gordion (Yassıhöyük) was the capital. Further important sites in the Highlands of Phrygia include Dorylaion (Eskişehir), Midas City (Midas Şehri), Kotyaeion (Kütahya), and Afyonkarahisar. The modern Turkish capital, Ankara, was known to Pausanias as a Phrygian foundation,4 founded by none other than the famous Midas, son of Gordias. Gordion began to gain supra-​regional importance during the tenth century bc. In the ninth century bc, the sphere of Phrygian influence was extended east-​and southeastward to the bend of the Halys River (modern Kızılırmak). By the eighth century bc, Phrygia stretched from Dascylium in northwestern Asia Minor to Akalan at the Black Sea, and in the South, Phrygian cultural influence reached as far as Kelainai (modern Dinar) and Düver (or Döğer) in northern Lycia, the Konya plain, and Tyana in Cappadocia. The rise of the Mermnad Dynasty in neighboring Lydia (­chapter 51 in volume 5) from the mid-​seventh century bc onward brought Phrygia increasingly under Lydian influence.5 In the period of ca. 650–​600 bc, a massive new Phrygian settlement came into being at Kerkenes Dağ, possibly settled by people seeking to escape internal pressure at Gordion. Phrygian power seems to wane in the seventh century bc, and the independence of western Anatolian kingdoms, including Lydia and Phrygia, came to an end when they were incorporated into the Persian Empire. The end of the Iron Age was, once more, symbolized by the conjunction of mythological and

4. Paus. 1.4.5. 5. Cf., e.g., Glendinning 2005: 97; and Dusinberre et al. 2019 for the mid-​sixth century bc.

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historical events, when Alexander the Great came to Phrygia in 333 bc and cut the famous Gordian Knot.6

45.2. Sources The reconstruction of Phrygian history is hampered by the scarcity of native text sources, and therefore relies on a combination of archaeological research and predominantly foreign texts. These limited data permit only partial answers to many questions, especially regarding the political setup of the Phrygian state and its history. Archaeological exploration is therefore the most important source informing our knowledge of ancient Phrygia, to which can be added a small corpus of inscriptions in the native language. These inscriptions are both limited in content, and still only partially understood. This makes outside textual evidence especially valuable, but such data require cautious interpretation, as we must take into account not only their external perspective but also their distance in time and space. Important sources include contemporary Assyrian records and oracular texts, inscriptions of post-​Hittite rulers in Anatolian hieroglyphic script, and later Classical references from a wider range of literary genres, including historical, literary, and mythological texts.

45.3.  People, language, and texts The Phrygians were the people settled in Iron Age Phrygia, defined by a shared language and culture. They are called Phrygian today after the name given them by the Greeks (Φρύξ, Φρυγός, “Phrygian”). What name they used for themselves is unknown.7 Ancient Near Eastern

6. Plut. Vit. Alex. 18. 7. The identification that vrekun means “Phrygian” by Lubotsky 1988: 14, following the Hesychian glosses βρέκυν· τὸν Βερέκυντα, τὸν Βρίγια. Βρίγες γάρ οἱ Φρύγες and Βερεκύνδαι· δαίμονες, οἱ Φρύγες, has recently been rejected by Obrador-​Cursach 2018: 194.

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sources knew them as “Muskeans”: namely as Muški (Assyrian), Muska (Luwian),8 Muškini (Urartian),9 or Meshech (biblical).10 The Moschoi of Herodotus are unrelated.11 It has been noted that the geographical position of the Phrygians as it is known from Greek sources is difficult to reconcile with the information on the Muški from the Assyrian documentation: Greek sources locate the Phrygians in western Anatolia, an area where Phrygian settlements have left a wealth of archaeological evidence. In contrast, the Muški of the Assyrian sources appear in eastern Anatolia, first during the twelfth century bc in the region of Elazığ,12 whereas later Assyrian sources from the eighth century bc connect their activities with regions considerably further to the west, namely Cilicia and Tabal.13 In particular, Assyrian texts record a king called Mita for the period of 718–​709 bc. The identification of Mita with Midas of Phrygia (ca. 740–​700 bc)14 was first suggested by Hugo Winckler,15 and is today commonly accepted.16 It seems likely that the Muskeans were originally different from the Phrygians, although their origin and linguistic affiliation remain unknown. During the centuries for which there are no sources, these Muskeans may have moved westward, possibly under pressure from

8. KARKAMIŠ A6: §6 (late ninth–​ eighth century bc; edited in Hawkins 2000: 123–​128) and TÜRKMEN-​KARAHÖYÜK 1: §1 (first half of the eighth century bc; published in Goedegebuure et al. 2020). 9. Salvini 2008: no. A12-​01: vi 11; no. A12-​04: rev. 8′. 10. Note also the close association with Tubal, the post-​Hittite kingdom of Tabal, in Gen 10:2; 1 Chron 1:5; Ezek 27:13; 32:26; 38–​39. 11. Hdt. 3.94; 7.78; cf. also Röllig 1997: 495. 12. Wittke 2004: 27–​55; for a revised list of datable Assyrian sources, cf. Radner 2006: 149. 13. Röllig 1997: 494–​495. 14. Rose 2021: 27. 15. Winckler 1898: 136. 16. Hawkins 1997: 272.

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Urartu, toward the post-​Hittite states of Cilicia, Tabal, and even Konya, thus becoming neighbors of the Western Anatolian Phrygians and assimilating with the local population.17 By the time the Muskeans featured in eighth-​century bc Near Eastern sources, they had possibly come under Phrygian rule.18 It is plausible that this led to a conflation of the Muskeans with the Phrygians, especially in sources written by parties that were not overly concerned with applying a more specific terminology.19 The earliest text source which identified the Muskeans with the Western Anatolian Phrygians is a newly discovered Anatolian Hieroglyphic inscription dating to the first half of the eighth century bc.20 The author Hartapu, a ruler in the Konya region, claimed to have conquered the Muska; in this context, their most likely location would have been in the neighboring region to the north, that is, in core Phrygian territory.

45.3.1.  The Phrygian language The Phrygian language belongs to the Indo-​European language group, but in contrast to many other neighboring languages, it does not belong to the Anatolian branch. Rather, it is most closely related to Ancient Greek and Illyrian; earlier hypotheses that it was closely linked to Thracian have now been abandoned.21 This linguistic affiliation supports the traditional view that the Phrygians migrated into Anatolia from southeastern Europe, possibly first settling in Mysia and Western Bithynia, later at Gordion and Dorylaion. A memory of such a migration seems to be preserved in Herodotus’s claim that the Phrygians used

17. Wittke 2004: 177. 18. Roller 2011: 563. 19. Ethnic labels for others are notoriously conservative and resistant to change, which leads to equations such as Germans/​Allemands/​Deutsche, when each of these terms originally denoted different groups. 20. TÜRKMEN-​KARAHÖYÜK 1; published in Goedegebuure et al. 2020. 21. Neumann 2005: 545.

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to live in Europe as neighbors of the Macedonians and were then known as Briges.22 When and whence the Phrygians arrived at Gordion is disputed. The current majority opinion argues for an arrival from the Balkans during the twelfth century bc.23 Not only does this hypothesis agree with the classical sources, but it also could serve to explain the significant changes observable at this time at Gordion in architecture (including building ground plans), animal husbandry, and ceramic production (this period marks the introduction of the new handmade Knobbed Ware, with close parallels at Troy and in the Balkans).24 Hence, the archaeological data could indicate a change in the population. However, this is not universally accepted,25 and it is noteworthy that funerary tumuli, which are seen as another tradition from the Balkans, only appear several centuries later.26 Whatever the arrival date of the Phrygians in the Gordion area, there is no evidence that anything other than a peaceful assimilation with the existing local population took place.

45.3.2.  Texts in Phrygian The Phrygian language is preserved in two inscription corpora: the earlier Old Phrygian inscriptions recorded in a local alphabet, and the later Neo-​Phrygian inscriptions written with the closely related Greek

22. Hdt. 7.73. According to Strabo, the Phrygians migrated from Thrace to the Troad and neighboring region (Str. 12.8.3.); he also cites Xanthus the Lydian as dating the Phrygian arrival from Europe to after the Trojan war (Str. 14.5.29). While the alliance of Phrygians and Trojans in Homer’s Iliad seems to suggest that they were already settled in Asia Minor (Hom. Il. 2.862, 3.184–​88, 16.717–​19, 24.545), this cannot be supported by archaeological evidence. 23. There is also an argument for an earlier arrival; cf., e.g., Neumann and Strobel 2005: 546. 24. Voigt and Henrickson 2000: 42–​43; Wittke 2004: 276–​279. 25. Schachner 2020: 1114. 26. Cf. Genz 2011: 359–​360; for other arguments, see, e.g., Drews 1993.

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alphabet. While the scripts differ, the language recorded is the same. Beyond these text witnesses, the Phrygian language is documented in some thirty glosses preserved in Greek texts. The Old Phrygian corpus consists of almost 400 texts from a wide area across Phrygia and encompasses different text genres, such as dedications and other religious texts, diplomatic documents, and many graffiti, dating from the eighth to the fourth century bc. For the next half millennium, only a single inscription that is dated to the late fourth or early third century bc has survived. It represents the sole surviving witness of the Middle Phrygian corpus.27 A much better-​attested textual tradition survives from the early first to mid-​third centuries ad, dubbed the Neo-​Phrygian corpus, which accounts for roughly 200 texts and consists mainly of brief curse formulas added to Greek funerary inscriptions. The latest possible reference to spoken Phrygian dates to the fifth century ad, when it is said that Selinas, the bishop of Kotyaeion, who had a Gothic father and a Phrygian mother, was able to preach in both languages.28 Many of the surviving texts derive from monumental writing practice, as writing incised on stone monuments proved particularly durable, whereas writing on other types of surfaces has been lost; the result is an asymmetrical documentation that heavily favors monumental contexts. Nevertheless, the general level of literacy in Phrygia is considered to have been high, given the numerous graffiti found on pottery and wooden objects.29 The complete lack of administrative texts has been cited as an argument against the assumption of a unified territorial Phrygian state that would have been centrally administered from Gordion,30 as the perceived lack of administrative complexity would not have allowed the existence of such a polity. However, the absence of administrative 27. Three graffiti might possibly be added: Obrador-​Cursach 2018: 18. 28. Euseb. Hist. eccl. 5.23 (in Migne, Patrologiae Cursus, series Graeca 67.648). Roller 2018: 125 suggests that by this period, the Phrygian mother tongue would, in fact, have been Greek. 29. Cf. Roller 2018: 128. 30. Genz 2011: 360; van Dongen 2014: 701.

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texts may be the result of the choice of writing materials: apart from clay tablets, most other materials known to have been used as writing surfaces at the time—​such as leather scrolls, strips of lead, wooden sheets, and wax-​covered writing tablets—​can hardly be expected to have survived in the Anatolian climate unless under particularly fortunate circumstances (either very dry or water-​logged). The lack of Phrygian archival texts closely mirrors the situation in Lydia, Lycia, Caria, and also the post-​Hittite states of southeastern Anatolia and northern Syria. In all these regions, writing is predominantly preserved on stone monuments, but one can hardly assume that these polities would all have developed their own local writing systems solely for monumental use. Our understanding of the Phrygian language is still painfully limited, not least because of the small size of the available corpora and the limited contexts available for the surviving inscriptions. For this reason, the reconstruction of Phrygian history must rely heavily on archaeological rather than textual sources.

45.4.  Historical overview Archaeologists divide Phrygian history into four broad periods (with further subdivisions): the Early Iron Age or Proto-​Phrygian period (ca. 1200–​950 bc), the Early Phrygian period (950–​800 bc), the Middle Phrygian period (800–​550 bc) and the Late Phrygian period (550–​330 bc).31 Changes at Iron Age Gordion toward more monumental architecture, indicative of larger communal projects and of the centralized administration of resources, are interpreted as evidence for the formation of a Phrygian state; this is dated to the early ninth century bc.32 An important date for the chronology of Gordion is ca. 800 bc, to which the destruction layer of the city has recently been dated (instead of ca.

31. Berndt-​Ersöz 2012: 24. 32. Roller 2011: 562.

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700 bc).33 This new proposal affects both the historical reconstruction and the dating of Phrygian art. Whether all Phrygian settlements belonged to a unified state remains uncertain.34 During the late seventh or early sixth century, bc, Phrygia increasingly came under Lydian control. The sudden rise of a new, large-​ scale Phrygian settlement at Kerkenes Dağ may have been an outcome of this development. At the latest, an independent Phrygian state perished when the Achaemenid Persians conquered Asia Minor in 546 bc. Phrygia was divided into two satrapies or provinces: Hellespontine Phrygia to the northwest, administered from Dascylium, and Greater Phrygia to the south, which was administered either from Kelainai or Gordion (­chapter 58 in volume 5); even though Gordion may no longer have been the capital, it certainly continued to be an important regional center. The lack of native Phrygian historical sources, coupled with the much later date and often mythological character of the Greek evidence, means that it is not possible to reconstruct a secure succession of Phrygian rulers. The only king who emerges somewhat more fully from the historical record is a Midas (Mita) during the second half of the eighth century bc. Both Midas and Gordias are attested as personal and royal names in Anatolia, and it is likely that several Phrygian rulers were called Midas.35

45.5.  Foreign contacts and interaction with other polities Our knowledge of Phrygia’s foreign contacts and interaction with other polities depends mainly on outside textual sources, which can be supplemented to some degree by archaeological data. Phrygian texts do not

33. Kuniholm and Newton 2012; Manning and Kromer 2012. 34. Genz 2011: 360; van Dongen 2014: 701. 35. A reconstruction with up to four kings called Midas was offered by Berndt-​ Ersöz 2008.

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contribute information on this topic due to the limited preserved text genres (section 45.3.2). Most importantly, Phrygia’s contacts with its western neighbor Lydia were long-​standing and intensive, and there is also good evidence of linguistic borrowing.36 Initially, Phrygia seems to have had a strong influence on Lydian practices, as shown, e.g., by the spread of tumulus burials. Furthermore, Phrygian-​style fibulas (garment pins) and vessels made from metal and ceramics were found in several locations in Lydia, and this illustrates that Phrygian influence on Lydia was not just limited to the capital at Sardis.37 It has been suggested that Phrygian bronze casters may have moved to Lydia and pursued their craft there.38 However, there is also evidence for cultural borrowing in the other direction, and the reciprocal adoption of writing practices deemed appropriate to specific writing materials suggests such an exchange: on Lydian pottery, the Lydian script is attested using Phrygian methods of word division, whereas the opposite holds true for inscribed Phrygian silver bowls. Subsequent Lydian territorial expansion and at least partial settlement in Phrygian territory reversed the power balance in Lydia’s favor. By the late seventh–​early sixth century bc, the Lydians controlled Gordion.39 While contact with the eastern neighbor Urartu must surely have existed, it is not well documented. At Gordion, Tumulus MM (ca. 740 bc) contains Urartian attachments on two large cauldrons. Urartian texts mention the land Muškini twice (section 45.3), in lists of several countries; the inscriptions date to Rusa, son of Argišti. Both Urartu and Phrygia were threatened by Cimmerian attacks and by the ambitions of the Assyrian Empire, however, it is not certain whether the two countries ever formed an alliance to jointly deal with these problems.40 During the reign of Sargon II, Phrygia actively sided with the Assyrian

36. Obrador-​Cursach 2018: 118–​120. 37. Roosevelt 2009: 87. 38. Kerschner 2005: 129. 39. Bald Romano 1995: 4. 40. Cf. van Dongen 2014: 702 (with literature).

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Empire against the interests of Urartu and Cilicia: a letter from the Assyrian king to Aššur-​šarru-​uṣur, his governor of Que (Cilicia), relates how Midas (Mita) had intercepted an embassy of fourteen men sent by the Cilician king Urikki to Urartu, and eventually delivered them to the Assyrian governor.41 Assyrian sources are essential for understanding Phrygia’s international relationships, but especially for dating its rulers and key events. However, their usefulness is limited by the fact that these sources are focused only on Assyrian interests. As we have already stated (section 45.3), an important distinction is that sources dating between the 12th and 9th centuries bc refer to the Muskeans as a people settled in central and eastern Anatolia, whereas the sources of the eighth century bc report their activities for the regions of Cilicia and Tabal, which were then part of the Assyrian Empire’s sphere of influence.42 Phrygian contact with Assyria is attested archaeologically, first through two Assyrian situlae, lion-​and ram-​headed vessels or “buckets,” found among the grave goods of Tumulus MM (ca. 740 bc) at Gordion. This not only antedates the hostilities recorded in Assyrian texts during the reign of Sargon II (721–​705 bc), but also indicates a high-​level gift exchange between rulers.43 Apart from some general references to defeating Midas of the land Musku,44 this ruler emerges in the Assyrian sources mainly in partnership with other regional rulers against the interests of the Assyrian Empire. The earliest reference to this Midas dates to 718 bc, when he was involved in a conspiracy against the empire with the Tabalean king Kiakki of Šinuhtu (modern Aksaray).45 He also joined forces with Pisiri of Carchemish against the Assyrian Empire in the 41. Parpola 1987: no. 1. 42. van Dongen 2014: 699–​700. 43. Muscarella 2013: 759. 44. Frame 2021: no. 8: l. 16: “I drove out Midas, king of the land Musku”; no. 43: l. 24: “who drove out Midas, king of the land Musku.” 45. Frame 2021: no. 74: iv 50–​53: “Kiakki of the city Šinuhtu, who had put his trust in Midas, king of the land Musku, stopped (his delivery of ) tribute and payment(s) and withheld his audience gift.”

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following year.46 In 715 bc, Assyrian forces twice defeated Midas during campaigns in Cilicia (Que), and in the process recaptured and plundered the Cilician fortresses of Harrua, Ušnanis and Qumasi, which Midas had previously seized “in the distant past.”47 This suggests an earlier conflict between the Phrygians and Assyrians in Cilicia.48 Midas again conspired against the empire in 713 bc, this time with Ambaris of Tabal.49 Kurtî of Atuna was likewise in contact with Midas but re-​engaged with the Assyrian Empire after Sargon II had his neighbor Ambaris of Tabal removed from his throne.50 In the following years, 712 and 711 bc, Midas conspired with Tarhunazi of Melid and Tarhulara of Gurgum (with the capital city of Marqasu) against the Assyrian Empire.51 In 710–​709 bc, the governor of Que raided Phrygian territory and defeated Midas, who

46. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 72–​73: “In my fifth regnal year, Pisiri of the city Carchemish sinned against the treaty (sworn) by the great gods and repeatedly sent (messages) hostile to Assyria to Midas, king of the land Musku.” 47. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 119–​120: “I conquered the cities Harrua, Ušnanis and Qumasi of the land Que that Midas, king of the land Musku, had taken away, and I plundered them”; 125–​126: “For a second time, I brought about the defeat of Midas, king of the land Musku, in his (own) wide district, and I restored to their former status the cities Harrua and Ušnanis, fortresses of the land Que that he had taken away by force in the distant past.” 48. The commander-​in-​chief (Assyrian turtānu) Šamši-​ilu commemorates his defeat of the Muški in an inscription of the lion gate of Til-​Barsip; dated by Fuchs 2008: 135 to 786 bc. 49. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 198–​200; no. 2: ll. 230–​232: “[However, that man (i.e., Ambaris)], a Hittite who did not protect justice, sent to Rusa, king of Urartu, Midas, [king of the land Musku], and the kings of the land Tabal about taking away territory of mine”; no. 7: ll. 30–​31: “However, that man (i.e., Ambaris), who did not protect justice, sent a messenger to Rusa, the Urartian, and Midas, king of the land Musku, about taking away territory of mine.” 50. Frame 2021: no. 82: vii 5′–​12′: “When Kurtî of the land Atuna, who had put his trust in Midas of the land Musku, saw the capture of Ambaris and the carrying off [of his people], his heart pounded. His messenger, bearing the news, brought to me . . . (a message indicating his willingness) to [bring] an audience gift and [pull] the yoke of the god Aššur.” 51. Frame 2021: no. 74: v 41–​52: “As for Tarhunazi of the city Melid and Tarhulara of the city Marqasu, to whose disturbed kingdoms I had brought order and the whole of whose extensive lands I had entrusted to them, those evil Hittites did

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subsequently offered submission and tribute payments to the Assyrian Empire.52 The extradition of the captured diplomatic delegation sent from Cilicia to Urartu mentioned earlier took place during the period when Midas had submitted to Sargon.53 Interaction with the Greek world is notably limited before the seventh century bc, as indicated by the absence of Greek pottery among the early royal grave goods.54 The earliest imported Greek pottery was found in the South Cellar of Building O and dates to ca. 740 bc, that is, contemporary to the reign of King Midas.55 A few close similarities have been noted in the decoration of ceramics of the eighth century bc.56 During the seventh century bc, Greek pottery appeared at Gordion, while Phrygian bronze objects, such as vessels, fibulas, and belts, spread in the eastern Aegean, and the Phrygian style also inspired not remember my good deeds but sent (messages) hostile to Assyria to Midas, king of the land Musku. They held (Assyria/​me) in contempt.” 52. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 445–​456; no. 2: ll. 428–​436: “A eunuch of mine, the governor of Que, ( . . . ) marched . . . ly three tim[es] into the district of Midas of the land Musku, in a chariot over easy [terrain] and on foot over difficult terrain, and took away one thousand of his (i.e., Midas’s) combat troops . . . and their war horses, letting none escape. He conquered two fortresses upon which his (i.e., Midas’s) district relied and which are (located) on a rugged mountain adjacent to [ . . . ] and whose location is very difficult. ( . . . ) He then defeated his (i.e., Midas’s) garrison troops, those who did battle, and [ . . . ] the gates of his fortresses to [ . . . ]. ( . . . ) Moreover, that man, Midas of the land Musku, who had not submitted to the kings who preceded me and had [never] changed his [mind], heard about the accomplishment of the victories and conquests ( . . . ). In [his far-​off land, deathly] quiet overwhelmed him and he sent his messenger before me at [the Eastern Sea to do obeisance and to bring tribute and presents]”; no. 7: ll. 150–​153: “A eunuch of mine, the governor of the land Que, marched . . . ly three times into the territory of Midas of the land Musku. He destroyed, demolished, and burned down his cities with fire. He carried off substantial booty from them. Moreover, that man, Midas of the land Musku, who had not submitted to the kings who preceded me and had never changed his mind, sent his messenger before me at the Eastern Sea to do obeisance and to bring tribute and presents.” 53. Hawkins 1997: 272. Cf. also Novák and Fuchs 2022. 54. Kerschner 2005, 122–​124. 55. Rose 2021: 54. 56. van Dongen 2014: 705.

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local production.57 Aeolian communities in the eastern Troad adopted tumuli for burial in the eighth and seventh centuries bc.58 Herodotus relates that Midas of Phrygia was the first foreigner to make a dedication at Delphi, where he offered his throne, which was very well worth seeing.59 The ivory statuette of the so-​called lion tamer found at Delphi in 1939 has been interpreted to have formed part of Midas’s throne,60 but this idea has not found much acceptance.61 Midas’s marriage to a princess of Aeolian Cyme, the daughter of King Agamemnon, is likewise disputed,62 as the princess in question seems to have lived considerably later than the famous Midas. Additionally, the limited number of Greek objects found at Gordion suggest that, unlike their interaction with the eastern monarchs, Phrygian rulers did not participate in gift exchanges with their Greek counterparts.63 Contact with the post-​Hittite states from the mid-​tenth to the late eighth century bc (­chapter 46 in this volume) left material traces in Phrygian architecture, as evidenced in the style and building techniques of the orthostats found at Gordion and Ankara,64 as well as in the form of grave goods deposited in Tumulus MM.65 The Anatolian hieroglyphic inscriptions of several post-​Hittite rulers refer to their relationship with the Phrygians (Luwian Muska). Thus, in the early eighth century bc, Hartapu, who ruled in the Konya region, claimed to have conquered

57. van Dongen 2014: 705. 58. Spencer 1995: 292. 59. Hdt. 1.14. 60. DeVries and Rose 2012. 61. Cf. Simpson 2020. Note also van Dongen 2014: 706 with n. 47, which casts doubt on whether Delphi’s reputation had even spread to Phrygia by this date. 62. Her name varies in the sources: Pollux 9.83 (Demodike); Arist. Fragment 611.37 (Hermodike). 63. Kerschner 2005: 123. 64. Gordion: Sams 2012b: 57; Ankara: Genz 2011: 354. 65. Sams 2012c: 252.

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the land of Phrygia,66 while his near contemporary Yariri, regent of Carchemish in the late ninth–​early eighth centuries bc, seems to have maintained diplomatic contacts with Phrygia.67 For a later date, Assyrian records confirm such contacts as in the year 717 bc, Midas and Pisiri of Carchemish both participated in a doomed alliance against the Assyrian Empire;68 and the discovery of Phrygian-​style ceramics at Carchemish demonstrates the existence of contacts with this region.69 As we have seen, the Tabalean king Ambaris also conspired with Midas of Phrygia against his Assyrian overlord, which led to his removal by Sargon II in 713 bc.70 South-​central Anatolia shows no observable Phrygian influence prior to the second half of the eighth century bc. The reliefs of King Warpalawa of Tuwana (classical Tyana; modern Kemerhisar) fall into this period, as this ruler’s reign lasted at least from 738 to 710 bc. The two reliefs, a stele at Bor and on a rock face at Ivriz, show this king in a richly decorated gown and shawl with Phrygian patterns, wearing a close-​fitting round cap with a pompom at the front, decorated boots, and jewelry. At Ivriz, he also wears a Phrygian-​style fibula. Further, fragments from basalt steles that all date to the last quarter of the eighth century bc provide evidence of Phrygian writing at Tuwana.71 Of these, one fragment (T-​02) may preserve the name of Midas, albeit in a fragmentary context. Tabal is the most likely region to have fostered intense contact between Phrygia and the (post-​Hittite) Near East. That this contact was more than casual is also borne out by linguistic phenomena such as the

66. TÜRKMEN-​KARAHÖYÜK 1: §1; published in Goedegebuure et al. 2020. 67. KARKAMIŠ A6: §6; edited by Hawkins 2000: 123–​128. 68. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 72–​73; see above in the present section. 69. Mellink 1992: 639–​640. 70. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 198–​200; no. 2: ll. 230–​232; no. 7: ll. 30–​31; see above in this section. 71. The now lost fragments T-​01 and T-​02 and the still extant fragment T-​03; see Obrador-​Cursach 2018: 408.

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borrowing of Luwian words into Phrygian and the sharing of certain personal names.72 This shared pool of names included that of Midas’s father Gordias, re-​encountered in the name of another Tabalean ruler, Kurtî of Atuna.73 The adoption of tumulus burials is further evidence of the Phrygian presence in Tabal. The excavation of the tumulus at Kaynarca near Bor brought to light bronze objects of typical Phrygian style among the grave goods.74

45.6.  Two Phrygian cities 45.6.1. Gordion

In 1893, during the construction of the Berlin-​Baghdad Railway, engineers discovered ancient remains near Yassıhöyük. The German classicist Alfred Körte identified the place in 1895 as Gordion on the basis of classical texts. Returning in 1900 with his brother Gustav, an archaeologist, the two carried out a first excavation season at Gordion. As the capital, Gordion is not only the most important Phrygian city, but also the best excavated to date. Located on the river Sangarios (modern Sakarya) and on major east-​west trade routes, the city has been occupied at least from the Early Bronze Age to the Middle Ages, and the nearby village of Yassıhöyük still flourishes. The Phrygian settlement roughly equates to the Iron Age city, which, at least since the early ninth century bc, consisted of a fortified citadel, a lower town, and an outer town (figure 45.2). Of these, the citadel alone encompassed an area of 135,000 m2, and rose some 15 m above its surroundings. Evidence of the late Bronze Age settlement comes mainly from a nearby Hittite cemetery and Bronze Age finds from deep soundings, but Bronze Age layers are mostly obscured by the later Phrygian occupation of the site. The Early Iron Age period is largely unattested

72. For examples, see Obrador-​Cursach 2018: 116–​120. 73. Simon 2017. 74. Crespin 1999: 69.

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Figure 45.2.  A: Reconstruction of Gordion and its environs during the eighth to sixth century bc (Middle Phrygian period), including its fortification system, with the Sakarya river shown in its ancient position east of the citadel (image by Ben Marsh). B: Aerial view of Gordion’s citadel showing the excavation works undertaken until 2015, with the Sakarya river in its modern position to the citadel’s north. The large stones lying in Sakarya (upper left of image) originate from the outer fortification wall. Both images courtesy Penn Museum, Philadelphia/​Gordion Project Archives.

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through excavation, with the exception of a few sondages on the citadel mound. It probably would have been marked by modest village-​type settlement. In the tenth century bc, Gordion’s architecture adopted a more monumental style, and the citadel was fortified with a simple gate. After 950 bc (according to the new chronology), the first megaron-​ style houses were built: rectangular buildings consisting of a main hall with an anteroom. They are located in the palatial or elite area of the citadel. To the west of these buildings, a terrace building complex was excavated. Here, preparations for food and beer took place, and the textile industry had workshop areas in this complex.75 The first monumental tumulus grave (Tumulus W) was erected ca. 850 bc as an elite, probably royal, burial. The citadel gate was remodeled, using orthostats of a similar style to those in the post-​Hittite cities of Carchemish and Sam’al (modern Zincirlı).76 This building program, which marks the Early Phrygian period (ca. 950–​800 bc), was interrupted by a highly destructive, but probably accidental, fire,77 now dated to 800 bc. As mentioned earlier (section 45.4), it is important to note the recent redating of this event with the help of new radiocarbon dating and tree-​ring analysis (dendrochronology).78 Originally, the destruction level was dated to ca. 700 bc, and connected with Cimmerian attacks reported for this date. The redating both changes the interpretation of Gordion’s destruction level and no longer offers archaeological support for the Cimmerian attacks one hundred years later. Following the great fire, the destruction layer was soon afterwards covered by a massive quantity of clay. This aided in the preservation of the Early Phrygian Citadel and additionally suggests the existence of

75. Voigt and Henrickson 2000: 50; Rose 2017: 137, n. 9. 76. Sams 2012a: 57. 77. Berndt-​Ersöz 2012: 26. 78. Kuniholm and Newton 2012; Manning and Kromer 2012.

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a central administration with access to a large labor force.79 The city and its citadel were rebuilt over several decades at the beginning of the subsequent Middle Phrygian period (ca. 800–​540 bc), duplicating the layout—​and presumably the function—​of the previous citadel. Also, the construction of several tumuli (III; P; MM) falls into this period.80 Gordion shows continuity during the Late Phrygian period (ca. 540–​ 330 bc) under Persian rule, a period which concluded with the arrival of Alexander the Great in 333 bc. The partly subterranean Painted House is a unique Late Phrygian building. From it survive the fragments of a painted fresco. The subject of this painting has been reconstructed as a procession, mainly of women.81

45.6.2. Kerkenes Dağ A large-​scale Phrygian settlement has been identified at Kerkenes Dağ in Cappadocia, east of the river Halys (modern Kızılırmak). The site was discovered in 1903 by John Anderson; in 1926 and 1927, Hans Henning von der Osten and Frank H. Blackburn surveyed and mapped it. After an initial excavation campaign by Erich F. Schmidt in 1928, Kerkenes was not the subject of regular exploration until 1993, when Geoffrey and Françoise Summers began a program of annual excavation campaigns. Since 2015 the campaigns have been conducted under the direction of Scott Branting. The Phrygian character of Kerkenes Dağ is attested by the presence of megaron-​style buildings, Phrygian sculptures, and inscriptions.82 Additionally, a semi-​aniconic Phrygian cult stele was

79. Voigt and Henrickson 2000: 52. On the Early Phrygian citadel, see also Voigt 2012; 2013. 80. Liebhart et al. 2016: 630. 81. Dusinberre 2019: 112–​113. 82. Brixhe and Summers 2006; Draycott and Summers 2008: 67–​76.

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discovered at the Cappadocia Gate, as well as drawings of similar steles at the front of the gateway.83 While the location has several advantages, including access to water, a prominent, easily defensible mountain-​top position, and proximity to established trade routes, there is no evidence for an earlier settlement. It is possible that the site was used for cultic purposes during the Hittite period, but no evidence for this has yet been found. The city was founded toward the late seventh century bc and was destroyed not long after, in the middle of the sixth century bc. The foundation of the city was thus roughly contemporary with the decline of Phrygian Gordion, possibly already under Lydian power.84 This raises the question of whether the city was founded by (displaced?) Phrygians from Gordion. If accepted, the proposed identification with Pteria, the famous location of the battle between the Lydian forces of Croesus and the Persian forces under Cyrus,85 would imply that Croesus was responsible for the destruction of the city.86 It is uncertain whether the city was captured, as there is to date no archaeological evidence for any battle. At some point, a massive fire, laid in several places, and preceded by systematic looting, caused the city to perish. Directly after the fire, the city walls were destroyed. Kerkenes Dağ was abandoned and never rebuilt. Both its size and short-​lived history are remarkable. The city encompasses an area of 2.5 km2; its stone city walls measured 7 km and had seven gates. At its height, the urban population would have exceeded 30,000 people.87 Among its public buildings, a palace complex, royal stables, and an exercise field have been identified. Both the city’s fortifications and 83. Summers 2006: 181. 84. Summers 2006: 170. 85. Przeworski 1929; Summers 2006: 166–​167; Summers and Summers 2012: 163. The identification, meanwhile, is not accepted by all, and several other locations have been proposed for Pteria, cf. Payne and Wintjes 2016: 39 n. 45. 86. Hdt. 1.76. 87. Summers and Summers 2012: 164–​166. On tumuli and the monumentalization of the landscape, see Stephens 2018.

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the urban infrastructure, including, e.g., pools for water collection, suggest the existence of a centralized administration.

45.7.  Funerary monuments Because of the small, badly understood nature of Phrygian written sources, we lack information on many aspects of Phrygian life and society. Through the discovery of tombs with grave goods, burial practices, especially of the elite, are relatively well documented. In Phrygia, there are two prominent types of funerary monuments: burial mounds (tumuli) and rock-​cut tombs.

45.7.1.  Burial mounds (tumuli) Burial mounds are dotted around the landscape in the vicinity of Phrygian settlements. In Anatolia, the placement of tombs in earthen mounds (tumuli) is not attested before the Iron Age. As this practice was already known in the Bronze Age in southeastern Europe, it may be part of the cultural heritage that incoming Phrygian groups brought to Anatolia; however, there are chronological difficulties with this hypothesis. The amount of labor and effort involved in this type of burial clearly marks it as an elite, especially a royal, burial custom, accorded to men, and very few women and children. This is also borne out by the number of surviving monuments, which while exceeding two hundred, still represent a relatively modest number of burials when spread over several centuries. Of the numerous tumuli at Gordion,88 only forty-​four have been excavated; these date from the mid-​ninth century bc, starting with Tumulus W, to the Hellenistic period. The second largest group, some twenty tumuli, is found around Ankara. Those excavated date from the early eighth to the sixth century bc. This supports the claim that Ankara was founded by Phrygians (section 45.1), but not by the famous Midas, 88. Recent surveys have registered ca. 240 tumuli, some of which have been destroyed by modern agriculture; see Liebhart et al. 2016: 628.

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as he lived later than the earliest tumuli there. In the seventh century bc, this burial practice spread from Phrygia to Lydia,89 where several hundred tumuli were erected, and to a much lesser degree to parts of the post-​Hittite world.90 Whether the decline of tumulus burial after the sixth century bc is connected to Persian rule from 540 bc onward is uncertain. Tumuli, as a rule, contain single burials.91 The construction of the mound reflects the fact that it was never intended to be entered again, and thus was built without an entrance. Both inhumation and, by the mid-​seventh century bc, cremation burials are known. The earlier tumuli consisted of a wooden chamber, set into a rectangular pit. The walls, and sometimes also the floors, were made of wood. Roofs were usually flat and consisted of at least one layer of timber, which would be covered with a layer of stone rubble used to waterproof the tomb, and then buried under clay and earth in a conical, circular mound, a considerable feat of engineering. Thus, both tumulus and grave chamber were raised at the same time. Later cremation burials, at least at Gordion, do not contain a wooden chamber. As a measure against grave robbers, the burial was not located at the center of the tumulus, yet many were nonetheless already plundered in antiquity. Tumuli, and their tomb chambers, vary considerably in size, presumably reflecting the status of the tomb owner. The largest and best preserved is Tumulus MM at Gordion (figure 45.2: A), the so-​called Midas Mound, which is the only grave that survived intact. Because of its riches, it was initially associated with the famous king Midas,92 but dendrochronology 89. Apart from the “One-​Thousand Hills” of the Bin Tepe necropolis near Sardis, tumuli are attested widely throughout Lydia; note, e.g., the 115 tumuli registered in the province of Manisa during a recent survey: Roosevelt 2006: 69. 90. For the few tumuli in Tabal, see section 45.5. 91. Exceptions are Tumulus 52 (dated to the eighth century bc), which contains a young woman with a ca. eight-​year-​old child (Rose and Gürsan-​Salzmann 2019: 17), and Tumulus B (dated to the late seventh century bc), which contained two adult women, one placed in a coffin, the other on the floor beside her (Sams 2012c: 252). 92. Cf., e.g., Mellink 1992: 634.

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has since established a date of ca. 740 bc, which predates Midas by about one generation.93 It cannot therefore be the tomb of the king Midas, who features in the Assyrian annals between 718 and 709 bc. The assumption is that Tumulus MM was built by Midas for his father.94 Midas’s own tomb has so far not been identified.95 Tumulus MM still has a diameter of ca. 300 m and a height of ca. 53 m today, with its burial chamber measuring 42 m2.96 With such dimensions, it is visible from many kilometers away. The next largest tumulus, W at Gordion, is less than half this height.97 Unusually, Tumulus MM had a gabled roof, and it also had an additional stone wall around the tomb. The body of an unnamed man in his early sixties was interred in an open coffin with splendid textile coverings. Four graffiti with Phrygian names inscribed on one of the roof beams have been discovered, possibly signed during a ritual connected with the funeral ceremony.98 Such ceremonies preceded the burial, and included a festive banquet in honor of the dead (figure 45.3). Food was served to and consumed by the mourners with the help of tables and vessels later buried within the tomb. The best evidence for what was served at such banquets comes from the analysis of food remains from vessels found inside Tumulus MM at Gordion. Food residue from pottery jars has been identified as the leftovers of barbecued meat (goat or lamb), possibly marinated in honey, wine, and olive oil, served in a stew with spicy pulses, probably lentils. This dish was rounded off with fennel or aniseed. Three large bronze cauldrons, each with a capacity of ca. 150 liters, held the beverage served at the funeral. A palace wall relief from the Assyrian capital Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad) shows how an animal-​headed scoop, similar to the

93. Kuniholm and Newton 2012. 94. Rose 2015: 16. 95. For Greek records of an inscription on Midas’s tomb, see Pl. Phdr. 264d; Diog. Laert. 1.6 (attributed to the Greek poet Cleobulus of Lindos on Rhodes). 96. Tumulus MM was the largest tumulus before the tomb of the Lydian king Alyattes at Bin Tepe; see Sams 2012c: 251. 97. Liebhart et al. 2016: 628. 98. Liebhart et al. 2016: 633–​634.

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Figure 45.3.  Reconstruction of the funerary banquet held before the king’s burial in Tumulus MM, Gordion, Turkey. Painting by Greg Harlin. Copyright Elizabeth Simpson and Greg Harlin, used with kind permission. First published in Simpson 2010.

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Assyrian “buckets” (section 45.5) found inside Tumulus MM, was used to scoop the drink from the cauldrons. At Gordion, beverages were first transferred to smaller 5-​liter serving vessels, and from there ladled into the hundred preserved bronze drinking bowls.99 A smaller collection of fifteen larger-​sized drinking bowls may have belonged to privileged guests.100 Chemical analysis of organic residue has shown that guests drank a mixture of wine, barley beer, and mead.101 Grave goods varied over time and according to social status. They included metal and ceramic objects, especially for food preparation and consumption, but also textiles, fibulas, belts, jewelry, and wooden furniture. The rich and complete collection of grave goods in Tumulus MM consists predominantly of locally produced objects, although a few items of the post-​Hittite cultural sphere, Urartian attachments on two bronze cauldrons, and two Assyrian “buckets,” have also been identified.102 The tomb contained over 300 bronze objects, including 170 vessels, over 180 bronze fibulas, ten belts of bronze and leather, and fifteen pieces of wooden furniture, including wooden tables and serving stands (section 45.8.3). Unusual grave goods were discovered in Tumulus J (ca. 625–​600 bc), the only preserved burial of a soldier with his weapons, and Tumulus KY (ca. 780 bc), where two horses were buried outside of the tomb chamber, probably as part of a chariot burial, although no trace of the vehicle was found. Remains of funerary carts have been found in Tumulus A (ca. 525 bc) and Tumulus E (ca. 530 bc).

45.7.2.  Rock-​cut tombs Most rock-​cut tombs are located in the Phrygian highlands, the Midas City region, where they were carved into either vertical rock surfaces or on rocky plateaus, often in the vicinity of fortresses. Their exteriors were

99. McGovern 2000: 22–​23 and fig. 3. 100. Liebhart and Stephens 2015: 40. 101. On mead as a Phrygian drink, see Plin. HN 14.113. 102. Sams 2012c: 252.

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originally undecorated. Decorated rock faces typically show a house-​ like profile.103 A notable exception is the monumental rock-​cut tomb of Aslantaş (figure 45.4), which is flanked by two massive lion figures and is located in the necropolis in the Köhnüş (or Göynüş) valley. Such tombs imitate Phrygian megaron-​ style houses, translating originally wooden features such as roof beams, often of gabled roofs, into carved stone elements. Tomb entrances, whether located at ground level or high above it, were square or rectangular, and often led directly into the tomb chamber; the existence of either hallways (dromos) or multiple chambers is rare. After the burial, these entrances were originally blocked with stones that imitated the shape of doors. Despite this measure, unfortunately, all the rock-​cut tombs were looted, and sometimes reused, in antiquity, so that there is no direct evidence for the grave goods that accompanied this type of burial. Yet one might expect that they matched the status of the person buried, rather than the tomb as such. Stylistically, rock-​cut tombs divide into two periods, with an earlier group (Group I) dating to 750–​725 bc, and the later (Group II) to after the end of Phrygia as an independent kingdom, namely to 575–​550 bc—​a prosperous period under Lydian rule.104 Earlier tombs tend to be higher above the ground, smaller, and simpler, with gabled roofs and fewer architectural details. The later tombs, meanwhile, have larger tomb chambers and show carefully carved architectural details. They commonly have one or several funerary beds (klinai) carved out of bedrock; because klinai first appeared during the period of Lydian rule in Phrygia,105 it may be that they were inspired by Lydian burial practices. It is suspected that tombs without klinai may have contained wooden examples, now lost.106 Only one tomb contains relief decoration

103. Sivas 2012: 261; Vassileva 2012: 244. 104. Sivas 2012: 262–​263. 105. Baughan 2016: 199. 106. Sivas 2012: 261.

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Figure 45.4.  The rock-​cut façade of the tomb of Aslantaş (Turkish “Lion stone”) in the Phrygian necropolis of the Köhnüş (or Göynüş) valley, showing two lions standing on their hind legs and facing each other above two (badly eroded) lion cubs. The lions rest their front paws on the entrance to the tomb. Photo by Klaus-​Peter Simon, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons. wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​3864​267), Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 (CC BY 3.0) license.

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in the funerary chamber: the Karacakaya Tomb in Dümrek (mid-​sixth century bc).107

45.8.  Art and crafts Excavated Phrygian cities, monuments, and tombs and their graves goods all provide information on Phrygian art and crafts in the shape of reliefs, statues and statuettes, paintings, and crafted objects. Phrygian art encompassed diverse motifs, including military images (warriors), hunters and horsemen, and depictions of the divine (ritual processions).

45.8.1. Ceramics Because the Anatolian plateau consisted of separate, smaller ceramic zones, there is no cohesive style of Phrygian pottery encompassed by every settlement site.108 Early Iron Age pottery tended to be handmade; the potter’s wheel regained prominence during the Middle Iron Age–​Early Phrygian period, from the late tenth century bc onward. Gordion belongs to a western ceramic zone which is characterized by monochrome gray ware,109 but some exchange with the eastern ceramic zone is proven by the presence of the so-​called silhouette-​style painted pottery at Gordion.110 A strong continuity of pottery forms into the Middle and Late Phrygian period can be seen, despite the loss of political independence.111 Gray wares dominate household wares by the end of the Early Phrygian period, decrease after the Middle Phrygian period, but stay common until the end of the Late Phrygian period. Fine wares are decorated buff wares during the Early Phrygian period; during the Middle 107. Sivas 2012: 262. 108. Genz 2011: 346. 109. Kealhofer et al. 2009: 282. 110. Genz 2011: 349. 111. Grave et al. 2009: 2174.

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Phrygian period they include black polished, faceted, and a few traded wares. Exchange with western Anatolia can be seen to increase under Lydian and Achaemenid influence by the late seventh and the sixth centuries bc.112

45.8.2. Metalworking Since the ninth century bc, Phrygia was a major production center for metal objects. The large number of bronze objects from Gordion include well-​preserved grave goods from tumuli such as vessels and fibulas, including the more than 300 bronze objects from Tumulus MM (cf. figure 45.2). Among the ornaments, Phrygian fibulas have been found in great numbers, both as exported goods and in local tombs or on the Gordion citadel mound; it is possible that fibulas formed part of a pre-​ monetary value system.113 Belts were also commonly made of bronze or of bronze and leather, and like fibulas, they have been found as votives in Greek Sanctuaries.114 Relief depictions of post-​Hittite rulers, e.g., Kamani at Carchemish and Warpalawa at Ivriz (figure 45.5; for a drawing, see fi ­ gure 46.8 in c­ hapter 46) show as part of the royal costume Phrygian-​style belts, and in the case of Warpalawa—​and probably also Azatiwatas at Karatepe115—​fibulas as well. Precious metals including gold, silver, and electrum were also worked in Phrygian cities but have survived to a lesser degree, mainly at Gordion and Ankara.

45.8.3. Woodworking The special conditions inside closed graves, such as tumuli MM, P, and W, helped to preserve precious wooden furniture which, under

112. Lisa Kealhofer, personal communication ( July 30, 2021). 113. Wittke 2004: 268 n. 433, citing a personal communication by Friedhelm Prayon. 114. Vassileva 2014: 222–​230. 115. Cf. Özyar 2022.

Figure 45.5.  The so-​called Ivriz Relief at Aydınkent near the source of the Ivriz River (late​eig​hth century bc), depicting King Warpalawa of Tuwana in front of the much larger figure of the storm god Tarhunzas (shown with grapes and ears of grain as the provider of a rich harvest). The king wears Phrygian-​ style garments, notably a fibula and Phrygian belt (indicated by the two arrows). Photo by Hakan Kozan, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​59881​388), Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 (CC BY 3.0) license.

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different conditions, would hardly have survived the millennia. Carbonized wood has also been found in the destruction level of the citadel mound at Gordion. More than 100 extant wooden objects testify to the high quality of Phrygian woodworking, and are today the most important collection of Ancient Near Eastern wooden objects. The wooden furniture preserved inside Tumulus MM consists of dining and serving tables used for the funerary banquet. In addition to several plain tray tables, furniture finds include an exquisitely designed three-​legged boxwood table inlaid with geometric patterns on juniper wood, and with a walnut top.116 Two ornate serving stands, also combining boxwood, juniper, and walnut, are characterized by screen-​like faces, inlaid with a dazzling multitude of geometric patterns on wood. The wooden open coffin or deathbed, used to inter the king in Tumulus MM, was carved out of a single huge cedar log and displayed before the burial.

45.8.4. Textiles Textiles were another important and famous Phrygian export product, known from Tumulus MM and Megaron 3.117 The fame of Phrygian textiles can be seen in depictions of foreign rulers wearing Phrygian-​style garments,118 and is also known from textual evidence. The textile industry occupied a special area on Gordion’s citadel, since at least the mid-​ tenth century bc. The survival of tools, loom weights, and spindle whorls from buildings such as the Terrace building or the Clay Cut Building attest to weaving and spinning on a large scale.119 Charred patterned

116. Simpson 2012: 337–​338; 2020: 142–​143. 117. On Megaron 3, see Holzman 2019. 118. Such as King Warpalawa of Tuwana (eighth century bc) in his reliefs at Bor and Ivriz; see section 45.8.2. 119. Rose 2017: 154.

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textile fragments from the destruction level at Gordion, as well as fragments of textiles from tombs, provide a small sample of this once major industry. Their textiles dyes, like the one used to achieve the gold-​colored fabric in Tumulus MM, attest to the high degree of chemical knowledge. Patterns were mainly geometric and recall those found on pottery and rock facades.

45.8.5. Music Phrygian music is described in Classical literature, and the so-​called Phrygian mode was one of the ancient Greek music modes. Musical instruments associated with Phrygia include cymbals, drums and tambourines, and especially an Anatolian double-​pipe which may have inspired the Greek aulos. Musical performance and presumably dance were part of religious rituals. At Boğayköy, a statue of the Phrygian mother goddess Matar shows two attendants who play the double-​pipe and the lyre.120 Further evidence for lyres comes from Gordion, where tortoise shells with drilled holes have been found; they are understood to have formed the sounding boxes of lyres.121 Even a double-​pipe in remarkably good condition has been discovered at Gordion.122 Its two sections, with six and two holes respectively, suggest that a pentatonic scale was the basis of Phrygian music. It is perhaps not accidental that the Greek mythological musical contest between Apollo on the lyre and Pan on his flute was unwisely judged by the Phrygian king Midas, who preferred the flute to the lyre123 and was rewarded for his judgment with ass’s ears.124 It is possible that

120. Cf. Alaner 2012: 383, fig. 2. 121. Holzman 2016. 122. Alaner 2012: 384, fig. 5. 123. Ov. Met. 11.150–​193. 124. One furthermore wonders whether the turban allegedly worn by Midas to hide his animal ears was inspired by the form of the Phrygian peaked cap. Following Morris 2003: 10–​13, Vassileva 2008 suggested that the ass itself

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the myth reflects a Phrygian preference for pipes or flutes, even if only in a specific context.

45.9. Religion Cultic locations are known in urban Phrygian settlement contexts, e.g., at Gordion, Ankara, Boğazköy, and Kerkenes Dağ, and from isolated mountain settings.125 We know of cult activities from archaeological remains: architectural facades, semi-​iconic idols, and in rare instances, anthropomorphic images of gods offer some insight. Sadly, Phrygian inscriptions do not provide much relevant information on religion. Rather, it is later Classical texts that describe Phrygian cult practices; however, the distance in time and the motivations behind the source texts need to be carefully taken into account. A particularly large and important Phrygian cult center has been identified in the Yazılıkaya Valley, named, after its most famous monument, Midas City (Turkish Midas Şehri); its ancient name is not preserved. It was first systematically explored by archaeologists in 1936, and excavated in 1937–​1939 under C. H. Emilie Haspels and in 1948–​1951 under Halet Çambel. In the 1970s, Gürkan Toklu led a team clearing the area following a landslide; further cleaning work was conducted during 1990–​1993 by the Eskişehir Archaeological Museum. Since 2001, the late Taciser Tüfekçi Sivas and Hakan Sivas conducted surveys in the region, documenting the rock-​cut monuments. A wealthy settlement in the Middle Phrygian period, Midas City was probably also fortified with walls, yet not a single stone of them has been found in situ. It is famous for its diverse monuments, which include a variety of typical cult

represented a distorted ancient Anatolian royal symbol, which she connected to the royal name Tarkasnawa of Mira, a Bronze Age ruler in the region that would later become Lydia. It is certainly true that at the rock relief of Karabel, his name is written in Anatolian hieroglyphic script with the donkey symbol, as “donkey” translates into Luwian as tarkasna-​. Contra Morris 2003: 12, this written character does not “abbreviate the ears”: it is the donkey itself that carries meaning. 125. Cf. Roller 2012: 205.

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Figure 45.6.  The rock-​cut façade of the so-​called Midas Monument (also known as Yazılıkaya, Turkish “Inscribed rock”) in Midas City; below, a detail showing the Phrygian inscription above its left roof gable. Photos by Zeynel Cebeci, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​ index.php?curid=​38339​871 and https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index. php?curid=​74260​769), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 4.0 (CC BY-​SA 4.0) license.

places and images: rock-​cut facades, stepped altars, cult niches and semi-​ iconic idols. The so-​called Midas Monument (figure 45.6) is the most impressive example of a mock house-​facade carved into a rock face. It measures 17 m in height, and 16.5 m in width.126 The facade is amply decorated with square and cross patterns; the choice of abstract geometric motifs recalls the designs found on wooden objects and on ceramics. A Phrygian inscription above the left roof gable contains the name Midas, hence the designation of the monument. The recent dating of 126. Tüfekçi Sivas 2012: 141.

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the monument to the late eighth century bc identifies it as contemporary with the famous king Midas of Phrygia.127 A central niche resembling a door served to receive the cult statue of Matar—​likewise named in the inscription—​during cult ceremonies. Cult niches are known both from architectural facades and other contexts. The hypothesis that such facades represent Phrygian temples cannot be proven since no temples have been found.128 Alternatively, it has been suggested that rock-​cut facades symbolize the royal palace, and that the depiction of a deity, commonly Matar, in such contexts indicates her role as protector of ruler and state.129

45.9.1.  The goddess Matar Matar, or “Mother,” is arguably the most important and certainly the best understood Phrygian deity. Part of the reason is that she is the only deity represented anthropomorphically, thus allowing for unambiguous identification. Accordingly, her places of worship are best known, although they represent only a minority of Phrygian cult installations. Her statues can be found in the cultic niches of rock-​cut monuments, and portable images were presumably placed into niches which today are empty. Shafts behind such niches might have served to receive offerings, or could have enabled contact and communication with the divine realm.130 Statuettes found in household contexts suggest that Matar was also worshipped in private and by the lower strata of society.131

127. Cf. Rose 2021: 57–​67. 128. Roller 1991: 130. 129. Roller 2012: 222. 130. There may be a conceptual connection with the Sacred Road, attested in Hittite cuneiform as dKASKAL.KUR, and in Anatolian hieroglyphic script as (DEUS) VIA.TERRA. 131. Roller 1991: 130.

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Her name is also attested several times in Phrygian inscriptions, where she is given the epithets kubeleya “of the (mountain) Kybelon”132 and areyastin (meaning unknown),133 both possibly emphasizing the elevated locations of her cult centers: in the countryside, cult monuments were frequently placed in high locations with good views of the surroundings, including strategic places at trade routes. These locations can be far from settlements, but it is not certain whether this served to mark them as places of pilgrimage or to limit access to them, or whether they also took on other functions, such as marking territorial boundaries. One hypothesis about why cult locations are situated at high elevations is that the height indicated a heavenly deity—​in Greek terms a local Zeus, or a mountain and storm god from an Ancient Near Eastern perspective.134 Such male divinities are frequently seen as counterparts to Matar. It is presumed that the Phrygian ruler played an important role in the cult,135 and possibly the male figure found at Kerkenes Dağ should be identified as a royal image in a cultic context. Matar acted as protectress of cities, which explains her cult images at or near city gates, such as at Boğazköy and Kerkenes Dağ. A relief in an architectural frame from outside Gordion, near the Sangarios River,136 portrays her as a mature woman in a long gown, wearing an elaborate headdress and a veil. In her right hand she holds a drinking bowl, in her left a bird of prey. Because a bird of prey was one of her attributes, stone offerings of birds are taken to be offerings to her.137 At Aslankaya, she is depicted flanked by two huge lions, the traditional attribute of the 132. Kybele, the Greek name of the goddess, derives from this epithet. 133. While Berndt-​Ersöz 2006: 84, 86 proposed to derive this epithet from Hittite ariya-​, “to determine by oracle,” a more convincing etymology might be from Luwian ari(ya)-​, “to raise; rise”; see Obrador-​Cursach 2018: 118. 134. Identified with Attis or Papas; cf., e.g., Diod. Sic. 3.58.4; on the question of a principal male deity, see Berndt-​Ersöz 2004. 135. For the relationship between Midas and Matar, cf., e.g., Diod. Sic. 3.59.8; Plut. Vit. Caes. 9.3. 136. Roller 2012: 205, fig. 2. 137. Roller 1991: 129.

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Figure 45.7.  The so-​called Throne Monument in Midas City, the largest known Phrygian step monument. Photo by MEH Bergmann, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​40567​105), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 4.0 (CC BY-​SA 4.0) license.

Anatolian goddess Kubaba. The possible influence of Kubaba on Matar, traces of which can be detected in the iconography,138 is still a controversial topic. Matar’s cult survived the end of a Phrygian state, and was later adopted by the Greeks and Romans, which led to a wealth of later textual and material evidence. Obviously, Graeco-​Roman practices show adaptations and cannot be taken as direct evidence for the Phrygian cult. Groups of step monuments and idols have been found most notably in the vicinity of Dümrek, Gordion, and Kütahya, in the Phrygian highlands, in the Köhnüş (or Göynüş) valley, and in the Pessinus region.139 Step monuments (figure 45.7) get their name from a series of steps leading

138. Note that the bird of prey is the attribute of Kubaba in the Anatolian hieroglyphic script (as her name is spelled ku-​AVIS-​pa-​pa), whereas in figural depictions, lions accompany her. The lion is also attested for Matar, e.g., at Aslankaya. 139. Roller 2012: 210.

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up to a flat platform, to what might have been a throne. The backs have been interpreted as divine idols, their gender uncertain.140 Whether this was a physical seat for, e.g., the ruler, or understood as the seat of a divinity, is unclear. Stepped altars at the necropolis at Zey suggest, at least for this site, that some ritual relating to the death cult would have taken place there, either in conjunction with, or after, burial. From Gordion stem several other cultic representations. Wall paintings from the so-​called Painted House, which is dated to the Persian imperial period, seem to depict a cult procession. Furthermore, the head of a male figure was found near the city gate. There are also small male and female figures, possibly attendants, and two dozen semi-​iconic idols.141 Meanwhile, the exact nature of the rituals and religious ceremonies performed at cult installations remains largely obscure. Often, not even the recipient of the cultic activities can be identified, as in the case of semi-​iconic idols: even if some may show slight identifying features, the overwhelming question remains: whom do they represent? Their strangely anonymous nature may, of course, be due to our lack of knowledge of Phrygian life. One should presume that the original worshippers knew exactly who was represented by these images. Whether the ambiguous lack of identification serves to bind numinous powers or limit the cult to the initiated, or whether the images were considered sufficiently distinct for their original audience, we do not know. Of course, it is possible that the cult images were further differentiated by the shape of their garments or other portable adornments. Phrygian Ankara remains largely unexplored, yet two important Matar reliefs were found in architectural frames there: one holds a bird of prey and a drinking vessel, while the other portrays her accompanied by a fantastic, lion-​headed figure.142 The Phrygian level at Boğazköy has only been partially explored, and an early Phrygian shrine has been

140. Roller 2011: 573–​574. 141. Roller 2012: 206. 142. Roller 2012: 207; 208 fig. 5; 209 fig. 6. On the connotations of the latter in the post-​Hittite tradition, see Roller 2008: 194–​195.

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found next to the former temple of the Hittite storm god. A very fine cult image of Matar was placed into a niche on the so-​called Südburg (section 45.8.5). It shows the goddess with two much smaller attendants on either side, who play musical instruments. Semi-​iconic idols have also been found in household contexts at Boğazköy.143 An aniconic stele and a large, semi-​iconic idol have been found inside the Cappadocia Gate at Kerkenes Dağ.144 At the monumental entrance to the palatial complex once stood on a pedestal the almost life-​sized figure of a man, which was toppled and smashed into pieces during the building’s destruction.145 While it remains unclear whether the figure depicts a ruler or a deity, it is conceivable that it represents one of the three individuals named in the dedicatory Phrygian inscription inscribed on the monument’s pedestal: Tata, Masa son of Urgis, and Uwa.146

45.10.  In conclusion The history of an independent Phrygian kingdom ended at the latest with its incorporation into the Persian Empire (­chapter 58 in volume 5), and quite likely occurred at an earlier point in time, when Lydian control over Phrygian territories increased. Archaeologically, Persian imperial rule corresponds to the Late Phrygian period (550–​330 bc). Despite some cultural continuity, Gordion lost its status as a royal capital with its incorporation into the Persian Empire and, by the mid-​fourth century bc, had lost much of its importance. The subsequent Hellenistic period started with a mytho-​historical event, the arrival of Alexander the Great in 333 bc. The story of how he cut the legendary Gordian Knot, a feat which according to tradition

143. Roller 2012: 207. 144. Summers and Summers 2012: 171, figs. 9–​10. 145. Draycott and Summers 2008: 10–​21, pls. 12–​26; Summers and Summers 2012: 173, 175 fig. 16. 146. Brixhe 2008: 75. For a reconstruction drawing of the entire monument, see Draycott and Summers 2008: pl. 66.

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predestined him to become the master of Asia, is embedded in a legitimation myth that previously justified the rule of Midas at Gordion.147 R ef er en c es Alaner, A.B. 2012. A Phrygian musical instrument (double-​pipe) and the Phrygian mode. In Sivas, H., and Tüfekçi Sivas, T. (eds.), Phrygians: in the land of Midas, in the shadow of monuments /​Frigler: Midas’ın ülkesinde, anıtların gölgesinde. Istanbul: Yapi Kredi Yayinlari, 378–​387. Bald Romano, I. 1995. Gordion Special Studies, vol. II: the terracotta figurines and related vessels. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Baughan, E.P. 2016. Burial klinai and Totenmahl? In Draycott, C.M., and Stamatopoulou, M. (eds.), Dining and death: interdisciplinary perspectives on the “funerary banquet” in ancient art, burial and belief. Leuven: Peeters, 195–​218. Berndt-​Ersöz, S. 2004. In search of a Phrygian male superior god. In Hutter, M., and Hutter-​Braunsar, S. (eds.), Offizielle Religion, lokale Kulte und individuelle Religiosität. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 47–​54. Berndt-​Ersöz, S. 2006. Phrygian rock-​cut shrines: structure, function, and cult practice. Leiden: Brill. Berndt-​Ersöz. S. 2008. The chronology and historical context of Midas. Historia 57: 1–​37. Berndt-​Ersöz, S. 2012. Phrygian kingdom: origins, history and political development. In Sivas, H., and Tüfekçi Sivas, T. (eds.), Phrygians: in the land of Midas, in the shadow of monuments /​Frigler: Midas’ın ülkesinde, anıtların gölgesinde. Istanbul: Yapi Kredi Yayinlari, 16–​41. Brixhe, C., and Summers, G.D. 2006. Les inscriptions phrygiennes de Kerkenes Dağ (Anatolie centrale). Kadmos 45: 93–​135. Brixhe, C. 2008. The Phrygian inscriptions. In Draycott, C.M., and Summers, G.D., Sculpture and inscriptions from the monumental entrance to the palatial complex at Kerkenes Dag, Turkey. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 71–​75.

147. For a discussion of relevant sources and their reflection of Phrygian traditions, cf. Roller 1984.

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Crespin, A.-​S. 1999. Between Phrygia and Cilicia: the Porsuk area at the beginning of the Iron Age. AnSt 49: 61–​71. DeVries, K., and Rose, C.B. 2012. The throne of Midas? Delphi and the power politics of Phrygia, Lydia, and Greece. In Rose, C.B. (ed.), The archaeology of Phrygian Gordion, royal city of Midas. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 189–​200. Draycott, C.M., and Summers, G.D. 2008. Sculpture and inscriptions from the monumental entrance to the palatial complex at Kerkenes Dag, Turkey. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Drews, R. 1993. Myths of Midas and the Phrygian migration from Europe. Klio 7: 9–​26. Dusinberre, E. 2019. The collapse of empire at Gordion in the transition from the Achaemenid to the Hellenistic world. AnSt 69: 109–​132. Dusinberre, E.R.M., Lynch, K.M., and Voigt, M.M. 2019. A mid-​6th-​century BCE deposit from Gordion in Central Anatolia: evidence for feasting and the Persian destruction. BASOR 382: 144–​209. Frame, G. 2021. The royal inscriptions of Sargon II, king of Assyria (721–​705 BC). University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Fuchs, A. 2008. Der Turtān Šamšī-​ilu und die große Zeit der assyrischen Großen (830–​746). WdO 38: 61–​145. Genz, H. 2011. The Iron Age in Central Anatolia. In Tsetskhladze, G.R. (ed.), The Black Sea, Greece, Anatolia and Europe in the first millennium BC. Leuven: Peeters, 331–​368. Glendinning, M. 2005. A decorated roof at Gordion: what tiles are revealing about the Phrygian past. In Kealhofer, L. (ed.), The archaeology of Midas and the Phrygians: recent work at Gordion. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 82–​100. Goedegebuure, P., van den Hout, T., Osborne, J., Massa, M., Bachhuber, C., and Şahin, F. 2020. TÜRKMEN-​KARAHÖYÜK 1: a new hieroglyphic Luwian inscription from Great King Hartapu, son of Mursili, conqueror of Phrygia. AnSt 70: 29–​43. Grave, P., Kealhofer, L., Marsh, B., Sams, G.K., Voigt, M., and DeVries, K. 2009. Ceramic production and provenience at Gordion, Central Anatolia. Journal of Archaeological Science 36: 2162–​2176. Hawkins, J.D. 1997. Mita. RlA 8: 271–​273. Hawkins, J.D. 2000. Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian inscriptions, vol. 1: inscriptions of the Iron Age. Berlin: De Gruyter.

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Holzman, S. 2016. Tortoise-​ shell lyres from Phrygian Gordion. AJA 120: 537–​564. Holzman, S. 2019. Unfolding a geometric textile from 9th-​century Gordion. Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 88: 527–​556. Kealhofer, L., Grave, P., Genz, H., and Marsh, B. 2009. Post-​collapse: the re-​ emergence of polity in Iron Age Bogazköy. OJA 28: 275–​300. Kerschner, M. 2005. Die Ionier und ihr Verhältnis zu den Phrygern und Lydern: Beobachtungen zur archäologischen Evidenz. In Schwertheim, E., and Winter, E. (eds.), Neue Forschungen zu Ionien: Fahri Işık zum 60. Geburtstag gewidmet. Bonn: Habelt, 113–​146. Kuniholm, P.I., and Newton, M.W. 2012. Dendrochronology at Gordion. In Rose, C.B., and Darbyshire, G. (eds.), The new chronology of Iron Age Gordion. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 80–​122. Liebhart, R., and Stephens, L. 2015. Tumulus MM: fit for a king. Expedition 57: 31–​41. Liebhart, R., Darbyshire, G., Erder, E., and Marsh, B. 2016. A fresh look at the tumuli of Gordion. In Henry, O., and Kelp, U. (eds.), Tumulus as sema: politics, culture and religion in the first millennium BC. Berlin: De Gruyter, 627–​636. Lubotsky, A. 1988. The Old Phrygian Areyastis inscription. Kadmos 27: 9–​26. Manning, S.W., and Kromer, B. 2012. Radiocarbon dating Iron Age Gordion, and the early Phrygian destruction in particular. In Rose, C.B., and Darbyshire, G. (eds.), The new chronology of Iron Age Gordion. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 123–​154. McGovern, P.E. 2000. The funerary banquet of “King Midas.” Expedition 42: 21–​29. Mellink, M. 1992. The native kingdoms of Anatolia. In Boardman, J., Edwards, I.E.S., Sollberger, E., and Hammond, N.G.L. (eds.), The Cambridge ancient history, vol. 3, part 2: the Assyrian and Babylonian empires and other states of the Near East, from the eight to the sixth centuries BC. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 619–​665. Morris, S.P. 2003. Frogs around the pond? Cultural diversity in the ancient world and the new millennium. Syllecta Classica 14: 1–​21. Muscarella, O.W. 2013. Archaeology, artifacts and antiquities of the ancient Near East. Leiden: Brill. Neumann, G. 2005. Phrygien, Phryger, A: Sprache. RlA 10: 543–​546.

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Neumann, G., and Strobel, K. 2005. Phrygien, Phryger, B: Geschichte. RlA 10: 546–​549. Novák, M., and Fuchs, A. 2022. Azatiwada, Awriku from the ‘House of Mopsos’, and Assyria: on the dating of Karatepe in Cilicia. In Payne, A., Velhartická, Š., and Wintjes, J. (eds.), Beyond all boundaries: Anatolia in the first millennium BC. Leuven: Peeters, 397–​466. Obrador-​ Cursach, B. 2018. Lexicon of the Phrygian inscriptions. PhD thesis, University of Barcelona. Retrieved from https://​www.tes​isen​red.net/​bitstr​eam/​ han​dle/​10803/​650​834/​BOC​_​PhD​_​THE​SIS.pdf (last accessed April 15, 2021). Özyar, A. 2022. Signs beyond boundaries: the visual world of Azatiwataya. In Payne, A., Velhartická, Š., and Wintjes, J. (eds.), Beyond all boundaries: Anatolia in the first millennium BC. Leuven: Peeters, 476–​516. Parpola, S. 1987. The correspondence of Sargon II, part I: letters from Assyria and the West. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Payne, A., and Wintjes, J. 2016. Lords of Asia Minor: an introduction to the Lydians. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Przeworski, S. 1929. Die Lage von Pteria. Archiv Orientální 1: 312–​315. Radner, K. 2006. Review of Wittke 2004. ZA 96: 144–​149. Roller, L.E. 1984. Midas and the Gordian Knot. Classical Antiquity 3: 256–​271. Roller, L.E. 1991. The Great Mother at Gordion: the Hellenization of an Anatolian cult. Journal of Hellenic Studies 111: 128–​143. Roller, L.E. 2008. Early Phrygian sculpture: refining the chronology. Ancient Near Eastern Studies 45: 188–​201. Roller, L.E. 2011. Phrygian and the Phrygians. In Steadman, S., and McMahon, G. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Anatolia (10,000–​323 BCE). Oxford: Oxford University Press, 560–​578. Roller, L.E. 2012. Phrygian religion and cult practice. In Sivas, H., and Tüfekçi Sivas, T. (eds.), Phrygians: in the land of Midas, in the shadow of monuments /​Frigler: Midas’ın ülkesinde, anıtların gölgesinde. Istanbul: Yapi Kredi Yayinlari, 202–​231. Roller, L.E. 2018. Attitudes towards the past in Roman Phrygia: survivals and revivals. In Simpson E. (ed.), The adventure of the illustrious scholar: papers presented to Oscar White Muscarella. Leiden: Brill, 124–​139. Röllig, W. 1997. Muški, Muski. RlA 8: 493–​495. Roosevelt, C.H. 2006. Tumulus survey and museum research in Lydia, Western Turkey: determining Lydian-​and Persian-​period settlement patterns. Journal of Field Archaeology 31: 61–​76.

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Roosevelt, C.H. 2009. The archaeology of Lydia, from Gyges to Alexander. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rose, C.B. 2015. Gordion and the Penn Museum. Expedition 57: 9–​19. Rose, C.B. 2017. Fieldwork at Phrygian Gordion, 2013–​2015. AJA 121: 135–​178. Rose, C.B. 2021. Midas, Matar, and Homer at Gordion and Midas City. Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 90: 27–​78. Rose, C.B., and Gürsan-​Salzmann, A. 2019. Friends of Gordion Newsletter. Retrieved from https://​www.class​ics.upenn.edu/​sites/​www.class​ics. upenn.edu/​files/​Gord​ion%20New​slet​ter%202​019%20.pdf (last accessed January 20, 2021). Salvini, M. 2008. Corpus dei testi urartei, vol. I–​III. Rome: Istituto di Studi sulle Civiltà dell’Egeo e del Vicino Oriente. Sams, K. 2012a. King Midas. In Sivas, H., and Tüfekçi Sivas, T. (eds.), Phrygians: in the land of Midas, in the shadow of monuments /​Frigler: Midas’ın ülkesinde, anıtların gölgesinde. Istanbul: Yapi Kredi Yayinlari, 44–​49. Sams, K. 2012b. Gordion, the capital city of the Phrygians and its buildings. In Sivas, H., and Tüfekçi Sivas, T. (eds.), Phrygians: in the land of Midas, in the shadow of monuments /​Frigler: Midas’ın ülkesinde, anıtların gölgesinde. Istanbul: Yapi Kredi Yayinlari, 52–​75. Sams, K. 2012c. Phrygian tumuli. In Sivas, H., and Tüfekçi Sivas, T. (eds.), Phrygians: in the land of Midas, in the shadow of monuments /​ Frigler: Midas’ın ülkesinde, anıtların gölgesinde. Istanbul: Yapi Kredi Yayinlari, 244–​257. Schachner, A. 2020. Anatolia. In Lemos, I.S., and Kotsonas, A. (eds.), A companion to the archaeology of early Greece and the Mediterranean. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 1107–​1132. Simon, Z. 2017. Kurtis: a Phrygian name in the Neo-​Hittite world. News from the Lands of the Hittites 1: 113–​118. Simpson, E. 2010. The Gordion wooden objects, vol. 1: the furniture from Tumulus MM. Leiden: Brill, 2010. Simpson, E. 2012. Gordion furniture and wooden artifacts. In Sivas, H., and Tüfekçi Sivas, T. (eds.), Phrygians: in the land of Midas, in the shadow of monuments /​Frigler. Midas’ın ülkesinde, anıtların gölgesinde. Istanbul: Yapi Kredi Yayinlari, 334–​357. Simpson, E. 2020. The throne of king Midas. In Naeh, L., and Gilboa, D.B. (eds.), The ancient throne: the Mediterranean, Near East, and beyond,

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age of globalization. Berlin: Max-​Planck-​Gesellschaft zur Förderung der Wissenschaften, 217–​234. Voigt, M.M. 2012. The unfinished project of the Gordion Early Phrygian destruction level. In Rose, C.B. (ed.), The archaeology of Phrygian Gordion, royal city of Midas. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 67–​99. Voigt, M.M. 2013. Gordion as city and citadel. In Redford, S., and Ergin, N. (eds.), Cities and citadels in Turkey: from the Iron Age to the Ottomans. Leuven: Peeters, 161–​228. Voigt, M.M., and Henrickson, R.C. 2000. Formation of the Phrygian state: the Early Iron Age at Gordion. AnSt 50: 37–​54. Winckler, H. 1898. Altorientalische Forschungen, zweite Reihe, Band 1. Leipzig: Eduard Pfeiffer. Wittke, A.-​M. 2004. Mušker und Phryger: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte Anatoliens vom 12. bis zum 7. Jh. v. Chr. Wiesbaden: Reichert.

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The Iron Age States of Central Anatolia and Northern Syria Mark Weeden

46.1. Introduction Dedicated to the history of Central Anatolia and northern Syria (figure 46.1a, b) over the five centuries in the aftermath of the disintegration of the Hittite Empire, this chapter begins with an alleged Dark Age in the trail of political and economic collapse during a period of climatic instability.1 Soon after the end of centralized power exercised from the imperial capital Hattusa, the relatively loose administrative structures of the Hittite Empire (­chapter 30 in volume 3) dissolved into a number of different states under separate rule.2

1. I am grateful to Geoffrey Summers and David Hawkins for reading and commenting on a draft of this chapter, and to Federico Manuelli and Annick Payne for kindly supplying me with their forthcoming publications, while the chapter’s later sections benefited from the Assyrian expertise of Karen Radner. According to the conventions of Hawkins 2000, texts in Anatolian hieroglyphs are referenced by their place of discovery in capital letters, with a number indicating their sequence in the discovery of inscriptions at that location, e.g., KIZILDAĞ 4. 2. Summers 2010; 2013; 2017; Pucci 2019a: 178. Mark Weeden, The Iron Age States of Central Anatolia and Northern Syria In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0046

Figure 46.1a.  Sites mentioned in c­ hapter 46. Modern toponyms are set in italics, triangles mark mountain peaks, and stars mark the findspots of monuments. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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Figure 46.1b.  Detail map.

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In these polities, some of the key elements of Hittite imperial culture and of the political organization of the Late Bronze Age survived. Once the regional economies had recovered, at the latest by the tenth century bc, these small states were forced to interact with the progressively expanding kingdom of Assyria, which presented a model of economic and territorial organization that was very different from theirs (­chapter 37 in this volume). Over several generations, the Assyrian Empire cooperated with these polities, relying on them particularly as buffer states and trade intermediaries,3 before they were annexed and integrated into the Assyrian provincial system in the second half of the eighth century bc. How should we refer to the Iron Age inhabitants of Central Anatolia and northern Syria that we consider in this chapter? This is a problematic issue, and there is a complicated history of research,4 mainly because the indigenous sources, beyond using local designations based on specific cities or occasionally also ruling clans, hardly ever specify how the people in question referred to themselves.5 The first artifacts ever to be identified as “Hittite” by modern scholars were stone inscriptions discovered at Hamath (today Hama) that were found in the 1870s and that date to the ninth century bc.6 When the designation as “Hittite” was later used to denote the Central Anatolian state of the Late Bronze Age that collapsed shortly after 1200 bc, the term “Neo-​Hittite” was coined in order to describe the succeeding states—​ a term formed in parallel to the chronological specifications “Neo-​ Assyrian” and “Neo-​Babylonian.” Despite the fact that contemporary 3. On the role of Carchemish in particular, see Radner 2004. 4. Hawkins 1974: 68; Gilibert 2011: 5–​10; Bryce 2012: 47–​63; Osborne 2021: 4–​11. 5. The term Falastin(ean) (spelled variously: P/​Walasti/​ani) has been associated with the kings of an area centered on the Amuq Plain (Hawkins 2009; Weeden 2013), but does not correspond to a particular city. Note that Simon 2012 argued that the term “Sura,” which appears in the inscriptions of the regent Yariri at Carchemish in ca. 800 bc, would refer to the Central Anatolian post-​Hittite polities. However, this is hard to verify, given that the term is not used in any inscriptions from there; see Weeden 2017: 722–​723. 6. Wright 1874; Sayce 1876.

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Assyrian and also Urartian inscriptions refer to some of the polities of northern Syria and Central Anatolia as “Hittite,” the designation “Neo-​ Hittite” is unsatisfactory, given that the capital Hattusa no longer exists, and the alternative term “Syro-​Hittite” is also problematic, as it excludes Central Anatolia.7 Combining the two languages that are documented in the many inscriptions of this time and area results in the designation “Luwo-​ Aramean,” which is more comprehensive.8 However, “Luwian,” one of the language terms used, is in itself inaccurate. While modern scholars typically call the language of the Iron Age hieroglyphic inscriptions “Luwian,” this is a term that in fact only occurs in specific ritual texts of the Late Bronze Age (and there relatively rarely) where it describes a language used for incantations, and was also used to refer to a western Anatolian locality of that same period.9 Using this term for northern Syrian and Central Anatolian texts of the Iron Age is thus anachronistic and a modern construct. Additionally, the designation “Luwo-​Aramean” also assumes a key relationship between language use and ethnicity, or identity, that may not be warranted. Most recently, the term “Syro-​Anatolian Culture Complex” has been introduced;10 deliberately ignoring alleged ethnic and/​or linguistic identities, it seeks to designate those communities in Syria and Anatolia with shared cultural practices, such as the use of characteristic settlement structure (mainly circular with inner citadels) and monumental architecture (elaborate gates with portal lions and orthostat-​lined processional ways), as well as writing and royal ideology, attested in geographical areas from central western Anatolia to the Khabur region between the early twelfth and seventh centuries bc. Using the deliberately bland designation “Syro-​Anatolian Culture Complex” emphasizes that there is no contradiction between speakers and writers of Phoenician, Aramaic,

7. Hawkins 1974: 68; Gilibert 2011: 10. 8. Novák 2018: 259. 9. Yakubovich 2010; Gander 2015: 475. 10. Osborne 2021.

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Luwian, and other idioms living in the same places, as the same individuals may have used different languages and scripts for different purposes in different social contexts, as can be observed in multilingual communities in the modern era.11 In order to stress the importance within the communities under study of a set of continuities, appropriations, and rejections of elite cultural forms previously associated with the Hittite state of the Late Bronze Age, we will use the term “post-​Hittite” in this chapter, which covers the period of ca. 1180–​539 bc, from the end of the Hittite Empire until the end of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire, when indigenous sources in the form of Anatolian hieroglyphic and Aramaic and Phoenician alphabetic inscriptions are at our disposal and complement and enhance data derived from the Mesopotamian cuneiform sources. Theoretically, it should be possible to trace the history of the polities that succeeded the Hittite Empire, and their transformations under successive empires, beyond the time under study here. However, there are no extant Anatolian hieroglyphic inscriptions that date to later than the sixth century bc, and it is highly controversial whether the script even survived that long.12 It is clear, however, that by the time of the Persian Empire, Aramaic had become the instrument of the imperial administration also in Anatolia (­chapter 58 in volume 5). In a nutshell, this chapter sketches the history of a region and period that is documented by textual sources that use a characteristic script (Anatolian hieroglyphs) that links back to writing conventions of the Hittite imperial age, arguing that through these local texts, the various states that produced them and the political relationships between them are illuminated in a particularly expressive way. In certain regions and at certain times, alphabetic inscriptions either in Phoenician or Aramaic

11. For the dynamics of African multilingualism, see Lüpke and Storch 2013. For some of the complex interactions between the various dialects and languages in use at Sam’al (modern Zincirli), namely Phoenician, Sam’alian, and Luwian, see Giusfredi and Pisaniello 2021. 12. For the view that “Neo-​Hittite statehood” continued until the end of the fifth century bc, see Simon 2021.

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language supplement these materials. These local textual sources are complemented by evidence from archaeological excavations, surveys, and landscape-​related studies, as well as by information from outside the region, chiefly from the Assyrian Empire but on occasion also from other states such as Urartu (­chapter 44 in this volume). In archaeological terms, we are dealing with the Iron Age, which is subdivided in various local chronologies according to the particular occupational sequences observed at individual sites. Many archaeological studies on the Iron Age south of the Taurus follow, or build on, Stefania Mazzoni’s foundational work which took the archaeological sequence observed at Tell Afis in northwestern Syria as its starting point.13 Interpreting urbanization and the introduction of the so-​called Red-​Slipped Burnished Ware into local pottery repertoires as key indicators, Mazzoni considered the early Iron Age to have started in the late twelfth century bc and continued until the ninth century bc. This contrasts with other models, which have the Iron Age I phase begin around the turn of the twelfth century bc (with the collapse of the Hittite Empire) and the Iron Age II phase start in the mid-​tenth century bc. There is no integrated periodization scheme for the entire region due to the great variations in the local developments of material culture—​an observation that is in itself interesting.14 Two basic periodization schemes are in use for this period: archaeological and historical. Ideally, of course, archaeological and historical chronologies would be established entirely separately and independently from each other: on the one hand, based on the sequencing of occupation levels, fire destruction events, and observations of change in material culture and iconography; and on the other hand, based on dates derived from textual sources, for this region and time especially the Assyrian Eponym Lists and the Assyrian royal inscriptions (particularly the

13. E.g., Mazzoni 2000a; 2000b; and note the recent summary by Osborne 2021: 27–​28. For other dating suggestions, see, e.g., the sounding of Area G at Carchemish (Iron Age I from 1200–​900 bc; see Zaina 2018: 358); or Tell Tayinat (Manning et al. 2020). 14. For a regional attempt concerning Cilicia, see Cilician Chronology Group 2017.

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campaign narratives in the so-​called annals; see ­chapter 40 in this volume), as well as on the sequencing of the Anatolian hieroglyphic inscriptions on the basis of their paleography and style, as this corpus developed remarkably consistently over a wide geographical area.15 However, in reality, the archaeological periodization scheme is frequently informed by the historical one, and vice versa, and they are certainly not independent of each other. Rather than compiling separate histories of the individual geographical and political units, the historical narrative presented in this chapter is arranged across the whole area in question in artificially divided time segments of a century each. The resultant narrative thus attempts to stress transregional trends in a world that was insistently local, while at the same time striving to emphasize continuities in a period of consistent change by focusing on the common cultural idioms, identities, and political concepts that define the region.

46.2.  Landscapes and places: a brief overview The region discussed in this chapter includes wildly different terrains. It had been difficult for the Hittite Empire to maintain territorial integrity in Central Anatolia, and indeed, until the modern era the Anatolian plateau never again served as the central region of any large-​scale state. After the empire’s collapse, a number of smaller polities occupied the plateau, and some spaces even remained empty. The whole region appears to have suffered from a dry phase during the period from ca. 1200 to 900 bc, and this is frequently held to be partly responsible for the decline in large-​scale state formations, although other reasons for economic decline are also in evidence, including overextension of resources, infrastructural fragility, warfare, and rebellion. The resilience

15. For the view that datable developments in hieroglyphic writing conventions happened at different times in different places, see, e.g., Simon 2013: 825–​ 826; D’Alfonso 2019: 147. In terms of iconography, the foundational work is Orthmann 1971, with an updated overview provided by Aro 2003.

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of local populations in dealing with the effects of a gradually changing climate is also apparent.16 Most of Central Anatolia consists of a plateau sandwiched at a height of 600–​1,100 m above sea level between the folds of the Taurus mountains to the south and the Central North Anatolian fault line, with the Pontus and Köröğlü mountains to the north. This plateau is divided into basins or plains (Turkish ova) and highland pastures (Turkish yayla), which provide ideal conditions for the practice of seasonal pastoralism, divided by sharp mountain ridges resulting from tectonic folds, which lend themselves to territorial segmentation.17 The western edge of the area discussed in this chapter lies in the region of the Konya Plain, the center of the “Lower Land” of Hittite imperial times (specifically the cluster of archaeological sites around the endorheic delta of the Çarşamba River, bordering on the piedmonts of the Taurus mountains to the south).18 Recent survey work has emphasized the importance of the large multi-​period site at Türkmen-​Karahöyük (125–​150 hectares), which has inscriptional connections to the volcanic mountain at Kızıldağ and the larger massif of Karadağ (section 46.3) and appears to have been a major center during various periods.19 Other regional surveys have focused on topographic features such as the mountains of Karadağ and Karacadağ and their surroundings.20 North of the Çarşamba River and the Boz mountains, various attempted Hittite imperial interventions in the local hydrology indicate an area where water politics were challenging and which was difficult to control, at least as far as the basin of the Sakarya River,21 where the site of Gordion (­chapter 45 in this volume) is situated at its confluence with the Porsuk River.22 16. Manning et al. 2020. 17. Erol 1983; Kuzucuoğlu et al. (eds.) 2019. 18. Massa et al. 2020. 19. Osborne et al. 2020. 20. Kamış 2019; Maner 2019. 21. Harmanşah et al. 2017. 22. For Gordion, see Voigt 2011.

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To the east of the Konya Plain and the Obruk Plateau, but on the other side of the Great Salt Lake and the Melendiz mountains with the volcano of Hasandağ at their northwestern edge, lies the area of southern Cappadocia, where numerous Iron Age sites are located north of the Taurus. This was the region known locally as Tuwana (Assyrian Tuhana), with its main city possibly at Kemerhisar (Classical Tyana). Major sites have been excavated at Porsuk/​Zeyve Höyük (Classical Tynna) and Niğde/​Kınık Höyük,23 and to its north lies the high volcanic crater of Göllü Dağ, with a mountain retreat dating to the eighth or seventh century bc, although it is unclear to which political unit this site belonged.24 Tuwana was part of Tabal and occupied the first area one reached after leaving Cilicia (Assyrian Que, Luwian Hiyawa) in the modern Adana region and crossing the Taurus mountains through the Cilician Gates. The region north of Tuwana, beyond the Erdaş and Hodul mountains, did not have a local name of its own, at least according to the extant sources, but in the inscriptions of Sargon II of Assyria (722–​705 bc) it may be designated as Bit-​Purutaš,25 a part of the larger area that the Assyrians called Tabal.26 The extent of Tabal is a matter of discussion, although this debate is fundamentally misconceived because the Assyrian exonym “Tabal” was used as a designation for an area that was politically divided into several separate kingdoms.27 New evidence suggests that the political formations at least indirectly associated with this external label may have included the Konya Plain, even if it is unlikely 23. For Zeyve Höyük, see Beyer 2010; and for Kınık Höyük, see D’Alfonso and Castellano 2018. 24. For Göllü Dağ, see Schirmer 1996; 1998; Aro 2003: 309–​310. 25. Weeden 2010: 59 n. 21. Alternatively, Adalı 2020: 231 considers the area to have been to the southwest of Tabal. 26. On Tabal, see Aro 2013b; D’Alfonso 2012; Akçay 2014; Defendenti 2015; Weeden 2017; Adalı 2020. 27. Thus, according to the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III of Assyria (859–​824 bc), there are “24 kings of Tabal” (Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 105–​106) and “twenty kings of Tabal” (Grayson 1996: A.0.102.16: l. 194′), whereas in a letter from the time of Sargon II (722–​705 bc), reference is made to “all the kings of Tabal” (Parpola 1987: no. 1: rev. 48).

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(but not impossible) that the Assyrians had any specific knowledge of this particular region.28 The polities of Tabal most likely extended north of the Kızılırmak River, where the central area of the Hittite heartland was situated in the Late Bronze Age.29 Here, excavations at sites such as Kaman-​Kalehöyük, Alişar Höyük, Uşaklı Höyük, Çadır Höyük, and Boğazköy (much reduced in size since its time as an imperial capital) have produced Early to Middle and Late Iron Age remains, which occasionally also exhibit a Phrygian influence (although this identification remains controversial; see c­ hapter 45 in this volume).30 Significant Iron Age settlements in northeastern Tabal, south of the Kızılırmak River, were found at the sites of Kültepe, Sultanhan Höyük, Kululu, and possibly even Havuzköy near the entrance of the Tohma Su valley, which leads down toward Malatya.31 Northwest of Cappadocia and south of the Kızılırmak River, the large multi-​period and multi-​mounded site of Ova Ören is also significant, as it controlled the westward routes to both the north and south of the Great Salt Lake and past the Ekecik mountains, which formed the lake’s eastern border.32 East of Cappadocia, the Gezbel pass leads over the Tahtalı mountains and provides access to the Elbistan Plain, and from there one can reach the lowlands of northern Syria, either via Kahramanmaraş/​ Maraş (ancient Marqasu; the region of ancient Gurgum) or Malatya

28. For the new inscription from Türkmen-​Karahöyük see Goedegebuure et al. 2020. It is conceivable that Sargon II’s term Bit-​Purutaš also referred to this area; see section 46.7. 29. Weeden 2010: 58; Simon 2017a. 30. In general, see Kealhofer and Grave 2011. For Boğazköy, see Seeher 2018: 89–​ 144; for Kaman-​Kalehöyük, see Matsumura 2008; Omura 2011: 1098–​1101; for Çadır Höyük, see Ross et al. 2019; for Uşaklı Höyük, see Orsi 2020. Note also the sixth-​century-​bc settlement of Kerkenes Dağ near Sorgun, where Phrygian inscriptions have been found (Draycott and Summers 2008); and Oluz Höyük near Vezirköprü, where a Middle to Late Iron Age occupation and some Early Iron Age pottery have been documented (Dönmez 2017: 292–​293). 31. Özgüç 1971; Adalı 2020. 32. Şenyurt and Akçay 2017. A Phrygian-​style semi-​iconic idol was found at Ova Ören; see Akçay 2015.

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(ancient Melid; the settlement mound is called Arslantepe). The high-​ lying, fertile Elbistan Plain is watered by snowmelt from the Tahtalı and Binboğa mountains and forms the headwaters for the major rivers Seyhan (Classical Saros, Hittite Samri) and Ceyhan (Classical Pyramos), both of which run through the lowlands of the Cilician Plain and into the Mediterranean Sea. Excavations at Karahöyük in the Elbistan Plain have revealed four Iron Age occupation levels dating from the eleventh to the seventh century bc,33 and the whole Elbistan Plain is dotted with small to medium-​size settlements that were occupied in the Iron Age.34 The Cilician Plain (Neo-​Assyrian Que, Luwian Hiyawa) is largely a sedimentary table formed by the Seyhan and Ceyhan Rivers. The region is divided by the north-​south running Misis Mountains, with an altitude of 760 m, while passage to Cappadocia in the north is provided by the Cilician Gates that lead through the Taurus mountains along the course of the Çakıt Su. The sites excavated in the Cilician Plain largely follow a route running from east to west, namely Kinet Höyük, Tatarlı Höyük, Sirkeli Höyük, Misis, Adana−Tepebağ, Tarsus−Gözlükule, Mersin−Yumuktepe, and Mersin−Soli Höyük.35 Further to the west, the mountainous region of Rough Cilicia begins, linked to the Konya Plain by the valley of the Göksü (Classical Kalykadnos), where Iron Age occupation levels have been excavated at Kilise Tepe.36 Moving across the Amanus mountains into the Hatay region and northern Syria, the landscape consists of a series of longitudinal river basins along which settlements are clustered. These river basins alternate with steppes that are better suited for agro-​pastoral lifestyles, especially south of the 300 mm isohyet, where rain-​fed agriculture is possible but a risky undertaking that may fail, and the 200 mm isohyet, where farming without artificial irrigation is entirely impossible.37 To the east of Cilicia,

33. Özgüç and Özgüç 1949; Uysal and Çifçi 2017. 34. Çifçi and Greaves 2010. 35. Cilician Chronology Group 2017. 36. Postgate and Thomas 2007; Postgate 2017. 37. Lawrence and Ricci 2016: 39; Wilkinson 2016.

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several passes lead through the Amanus mountains either into the İslahiye valley (via the Hasanbeyli−Fevzipaşa Pass), or into the northern part of the Amuq Plain that is watered by the Orontes River (via the Belen Pass). Reached through the Hasanbeyli−Fevzipaşa Pass, the important site of Zincirlı (ancient Sam’al) has yielded monumental remains and Aramaic inscriptions, while an inscription in Anatolian hieroglyphs was recently found nearby.38 The Amuq Plain, which corresponds to Assyrian Unqi (as the geographical term) and Patin (as the political designation), was known as the kingdom of Falastin during the earlier part of the period under discussion in this chapter, and at times, its influence seems to have extended eastward to Aleppo and possibly even Carchemish, southward to the northern parts of the Hama region, and westward to Arsuz on the coastal side of the Belen pass.39 The main city of Falastin seems to have been at Kunulua (also Kullania or Kinaliya; modern Tell Tayinat) on the Orontes, where extensive excavations have yielded important results for its Iron Age history.40 Following the Orontes upstream, the southernmost kingdom to form part of the world discussed in this chapter was Hamath (Assyrian Hamatu, centered on modern Hama) in the fertile Ghab valley, where the Assyrian Empire encountered a dynasty that used hieroglyphic inscriptions in the ninth century bc.41 The Orontes and its tributary the Afrin, the Karasu (running through the İslahiye valley), the Queiq, and the Euphrates with its tributaries the Sajur, the Balikh, and the Khabur form a series of parallel valleys running mostly north-​south and thus create a fertile strip of land that travels from the west to the east, excluding only the area of the Kartal/​Kurt mountains. On the Orontes, the Amuq Plain experienced an increase in settlement density, but also a reduction in the size of settlements, from the Late Bronze Age to the Early Iron Age.42

38. Wartke 2005; Herrmann et al. 2016; Younger 2016: 373–​424. 39. Hawkins 2009; Singer 2012; Weeden 2013; Galil 2014; Emanuel 2015. 40. Harrison 2013; Welton et al. 2019. 41. Hawkins 2000: 398–​423; Younger 2016: 425–​500. 42. Harrison 2001; Yener (ed.) 2005.

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When leaving the Amuq Plain through the Kartal/​Kurt mountains to the east, past the significant sites of Tell Judeidah and Chatal Höyük, one reaches the Afrin valley, where the important site of Ain Dara dates to the end of the second millennium bc, while the Queiq valley hosted major Iron Age settlements at Tell Rifa’at (ancient Arpad) and Aleppo, as well as Oylum Höyük on the Turkish side of the border.43 Southeast of Aleppo, a Late Bronze Age route led through the water-​rich Jabbul Plain toward the Euphrates, where numerous sites were abandoned at the beginning of the Iron Age. South of the Jabbul Plain lies a steppe landscape that does not support rain-​fed agriculture; routes leading through this area linked the Hamath region on the Orontes and the Middle Euphrates region of Anat and Suhu since the Middle Bronze Age, when they connected the important cities of Qatna and Mari (­chapter 15 in volume 2), and possibly this route was used even earlier.44 Moving northeast from Aleppo, one reaches the Euphrates with the sites of Tell Aushariye (ancient Pitru) and Tell Ahmar (Assyrian Til Barsip, Luwian Masuwari), on its western and eastern banks, situated near the confluence with the Sajur where a river crossing must once have existed.45 This brings us to Carchemish, located some 20 km upstream from Tell Ahmar on the opposite side of the Euphrates. This site has produced more Iron Age hieroglyphic inscriptions than any other, having been excavated by three separate archaeological teams over the last 130 years.46 To the west of Carchemish, a route leads through a hilly landscape via Tell al-​Qana (possibly Assyrian Sazabû) and Tell Rifa’at (ancient Arpad) 43. Yener (ed.) 2005. For Chatal Höyük, see Pucci 2019b; and for the other sites, see Osborne 2021: 19–​22 (with further literature). 44. For the route linking Qatna and Mari, see Miglio 2014: 77; for the route from Hamath to the Euphrates, see Hawkins 2016a: 188. 45. Wilkinson 2016: 84. 46. For the inscriptions, see Hawkins 2000: 72–​223; Peker 2016; Marchetti and Peker 2018. For the first excavations, see Hogarth 1914; the second excavations, see Woolley 1921; Woolley and Barnett 1952; and the most recent excavations, see Marchetti (ed.) 2014; 2019−20; Zaina (ed.) 2018; Mantellini and Pizzimenti 2021.

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to Tell Tayinat (ancient Kunulua/​Kullania) in the Amuq Plain.47 In the Iron Age, the highland plains south of the Taurus main ridge and west of the Euphrates appear to have been much more densely forested than today.48 To the south and east of the uplands stretching toward the Euphrates, settlements cluster in the valleys of the Sajur and the Nahr el-​Amarna, which cut through an eroded limestone plateau riddled with wadis.49 That a river crossing existed at Carchemish during the time in question is not as clear as is often assumed, and the nearby site of Jerablus Tahtani, which during the Bronze Age was paired with Tell Shiukh Fawqani (ancient Burmarina) on the eastern bank of the Euphrates, does not appear to have Iron Age occupation levels, although another site nearby might have replaced it in its function as a bridgehead.50 Following the Euphrates upstream, the valleys cut by its tributaries the Merzumen and the Karasu, whose springs are situated in the Kartal/​ Kurt mountains, lie to the river’s west before one reaches the region of Kummuh, centered around the site of Samsat Höyük (Classical Samosata), with Lidar Höyük on the opposite side of the Euphrates.51 Further upstream, there is the small settlement of Tille Höyük, whose remains, first dated to the Hittite imperial period, were recently reattributed to the early Iron Age.52 Kummuh was separated from Melid (centered on Malatya) to the north by a mountain range, through which the Euphrates passes via an unnavigable gorge. The route of communication between Carchemish and Malatya, so crucial for understanding local constellations of power in the Early Iron Age, must have either passed over these mountains or around them to the west via Gölbaşı. The western limits of Kummuh are established for 805 bc and 776 bc by the so-​called Kızkapanlı Stele (also known as Pazarcık Stele), an Assyrian 47. Wilkinson 2016: 87–​88. 48. Wilkinson 2016. 49. Wilkinson 2016: 71–​72. 50. Wilkinson 2016: 84–​85. 51. Hawkins 2000: 330–​360; Özgüç 2009. 52. Summers 2013.

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royal monument from the Aksu valley in the Kartal/​Kurt mountains, which was set up to regulate the border with Gurgum.53 The sites of Sakçagözü and Yesemek, with its sculpture workshop, guarded another route through the Kartal/​Kurt mountains, but it is unclear to which state formation they belonged: Gurgum, or Kummuh, or Sam’al, or perhaps another polity.54 We end this geographical survey in the plain of Malatya, bordering the Elbistan Plain to the west and Kummuh to the south. Despite recurring fire events, the site of Arslantepe, which has been excavated by French and Italian teams, presents a continuous occupation sequence for the ancient city of Melid from the twelfth to the late eighth century bc.55 East of the Euphrates, the contours of the post-​Hittite world are as yet unclear, although the area was apparently of some significance. The moon god of Harran plays a role as a widely worshipped deity in a number of Iron Age inscriptions. Northeast of Harran, at Siverek, hieroglyphic inscriptions have also been found, but they have not yet been investigated in detail.56 And in the Khabur region, the site of Tell Halaf (ancient Guzana) exhibits clear connections to the monumental urban architecture found west of the Euphrates at contemporary northern Syrian sites.57

46.3.  The twelfth century bc Rather than Hattusa’s destruction, the early twelfth century bc saw the elite abandon the city, followed by small-​scale continued occupation, with this pattern apparently mirrored at other sites in the region, e.g., at Uşaklı Höyük.58 While there appears to have been 53. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.3; see Hawkins 2000: 331–​332. 54. Brown and Smith 2016: 29. 55. Frangipane 2011; Manuelli 2019. 56. Simon 2019a: 130–​133. 57. Osborne 2021: 103–​105 (with further literature). 58. Seeher 1998; Orsi 2020.

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some continuity of occupation at some sites within the bend of the Kızılırmak River, the overall impression is one of downscaling or abandonment—​a tendency that had been observable already in the thirteenth century bc,59 when King Muwatalli moved the Hittite capital to Tarhuntassa, a city not yet located but that almost certainly lies in the central southwest, likely at the southern end of the Konya Plain.60 The capital was moved back to Hattusa by his son Urhi-​Teššub/​Mursili III, but a self-​sustaining (although not independent) kingdom seems to have remained centered at Tarhuntassa. This realm was ruled by Urhi-​Teššub’s younger brother Kuruntiya, who required appeasement with treaties when the next Hittite king, Hattusili III, came to the throne. Despite being peppered with medium to large sites and littered with hieroglyphic inscriptions, this region has not seen much excavation. However, archaeological survey data suggest a sharp decline in settlements from the Late Bronze into the Iron Ages.61 A complex of inscriptions around the mountains of Kızıldağ and Karadağ, and now also at the site of Türkmen-​Karahöyük, seems to attest to an enduring tradition of cultural memory involving kings by the name of Hartapu.62 On the Kızıldağ, there are five Hartapu inscriptions, and on the Karadağ, another two. Their dating is disputed, but in the view of the present author, one of them cannot be dated any later than the twelfth century bc, most likely the earlier part of it,63 and another inscription from the

59. Glatz 2020: 264–​277. 60. Massa et al. 2020 tentatively identified Tarhuntassa with the large site of Türkmen-​Karahöyük. However, the imperial Hittite treaty on the Bronze Tablet from Hattusa (Otten 1988) details the borders of Tarhuntassa and its access rights to the Hulaya Riverland (i.e., the border zone between Tarhuntassa and the land of Hattusa), which makes it unlikely (although not impossible) that this identification is correct, as the site would have been situated in the middle of the border zone itself. 61. Osborne 2021: 55. 62. Hawkins 2000: 433–​442, pl. 236–​242. 63. KIZILDAĞ 4.

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Hartapu group probably belongs to this same period.64 The early dating of these two inscriptions is due to the striking orthographic and paleographic similarities observed with inscriptions of the thirteenth century bc, that contrast with those of later periods.65 This Hartapu, son of a Mursili, claims to have defeated a group called the Muska, a term that certainly corresponds to the Muški in Assyrian texts.66 The Muskeans are first attested in Assyrian archival documents of the early twelfth century and then from the annals of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1075 bc); according to the latter, they are characterized as a mobile population group, at the time led by five kings, and associated with a region called Katmuhu to the southeast of the Tur Abdin range, some 1,000 km to the east of the Kızıldağ and Karadağ area, but for the previous fifty years, they are said to have lived in the region of Alzi on the east bank of the Euphrates.67 During the late eighth century bc, texts from the reign of Sargon II of Assyria (721–​705 bc) use the term “Muški” to refer to the same polity that the Greeks called Phrygian (­chapter 45 in this volume).68 As it is possible that the designation Muska/​Muški in the twelfth century bc may have had similar connotations as the designation for the Kaska people in the Late Bronze Age (an exonym for a cluster of groups signifying a lifestyle rather than

64. KARADAĞ 1, on a mountain which can be seen in the distance when standing in front of KIZILDAĞ 4. 65. Goedegebuure et al. 2020 date the inscription KIZILDAĞ 4 to the eighth century bc, along with all other inscriptions that mention Hartapu. 66. The reading of this name on KIZILDAĞ 4 was controversial for a long time, but has now been demonstrated to be correct by the recently published inscription of TÜRKMENKARAHÖYÜK 1, a peculiar text of two parts dating to the eighth century bc. Its first line seems to be a quote of part of KIZILDAĞ 4, evoking the earlier Hartapu (spelled Kartapu) son of Mursili and his victory over the Muska; the second details the achievements of a later king Hartapu from the eighth century bc and should be discussed in that context. For the various views, see Goedegebuure et al. 2020; Osborne 2021: 136–​142; Hawkins and Weeden 2021. 67. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: I 62-​88; see Radner 2006: 147–​148. 68. Wittke 2004: 183.

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an ethnicity; see ­chapter 30 in volume 3),69 the term “Phrygian” is best reserved only for the state that arose around Gordion from the late tenth century bc onward. No Great King Hartapu is known from any sources of the thirteenth century bc, and moreover, would have been unlikely to claim to have defeated anyone on his own during the period when the central administration at Hattusa was still functioning,70 which makes dating to the early twelfth century seem likely. This would place these inscriptions in the period immediately following the disintegration of the Hittite Empire, a time when an increase in migrations is generally assumed. In the plain of Elbistan, a long hieroglyphic inscription in an archaic script and orthography was found at Karahöyük, and this text is also dated to the twelfth century bc.71 The inscription is authored by Armanani, an official with the archaic-​sounding title “Lord of the Pithos-​men,” and it mentions the visit of a Great King with a name written in logographic spelling that can be read either as the Hurrian name Ir(i)-​Teššub or the Luwian name Yarri-​Tarhunda. This Great King found the city where the inscribed stele was discovered “empty” and seems to have assigned responsibilities in the region to Armanani. But where would the Great King himself have resided? On the one hand, peculiarities in how the signs are formed and in the text’s orthography, as well as the parallels in signs that are not attested anywhere else, point to the Konya region and the two early Hartapu inscriptions.72 On the other hand, if the name of the Great King is indeed meant to be read in Hurrian this could indicate Carchemish, where recent excavations demonstrated a continuous occupation from the Late Bronze through to the Early Iron Age, in addition to the recent discovery of a cache of sealings, which indicate that a

69. Gerçek 2021; Glatz 2020: 134. 70. Sürehagen 2008 tried to connect Hartapu with a figure known from Egyptian inscriptions as one of the allies of the Hittites at the battle of Qadesh in 1274 bc, but this seems far too early. 71. KARAHÖYÜK-​ELBISTAN; see Hawkins 2000: 288–​295. 72. Hawkins 1988: 107; 2000: 288; Hawkins and Weeden 2016: 10–​11.

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number of late Hittite imperial officials there had Hurrian names.73 For the time being, the question as to which territory controlled Karahöyük at the time cannot be answered conclusively. However, no Great Kings seem to have ruled at Carchemish during the period immediately after the end of the Hittite Empire, although the royal house of Carchemish, which had been established by Suppiluliuma I back in the fourteenth century bc, appears to have continued. This is clear from the evidence of the impression of the seal of Kuzi-​Teššub son of Talmi-​Teššub, king of Carchemish, which was found just upstream at Lidar Höyük.74 Talmi-​Teššub is already mentioned in the Hattusa archives of the Hittite imperial age, as the latest attested king of the dynasty established by Suppiluliuma at Carchemish. But while the kings of Malatya, who claimed descent from Kuzi-​Teššub, called him a Great King, i.e., a ruler to whom other kings were subordinate, neither he nor his son Kuzi-​Teššub designated themselves as such. It is thus difficult to argue that there was a direct transfer of power from the Central Anatolian plateau to Carchemish and northern Syria at this stage, even if some level of migration from the one to the other may well have taken place during this period, as possibly evidenced by developments in settlement distribution and funerary practices.75 The title of Great King does not surface at Carchemish for another 150 years or so, and even then, it seems to refer to a ruler based somewhere else.

73. For the sealings see Peker 2017; 2020 and in Marchetti (ed.) 2019–20: 267–268. Simon 2013 argued for a location at Carchemish, on the basis of the ruler’s name invoking the storm god Teššub/​Tarhunda, who is well attested at Carchemish, and on the alleged equivalence of Iri-​Teššub with Ini-​Teššub, king of Hatti (i.e., Carchemish), a contemporary of Tiglath-​pileser I of Assyria (1114–​1076 bc). See also Giusfredi 2010: 41–​44; Bryce 2012: 86. 74. Sürenhagen 1986; Hawkins 1988. 75. Osborne 2021: 51–​59 argues that the use of the hieroglyphic script and Luwian language and an increase in cremation and a change in settlement distribution are indications of such a movement, specifically of Luwian speakers. The Luwian language and the associated hieroglyphic script were well embedded into Hittite administrative structures in northern Syria at the end of the Late Bronze Age, and while this does not exclude migration from the plateau, there is consequently no need to posit an influx of Luwian speakers to explain its continued use.

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Another source that has been associated with Carchemish is a silver bowl now in Ankara, inscribed with hieroglyphic in Luwian. The inscription mentions a king called Mazi-​Karhuha, and this theophoric name contains the patron god of Carchemish, Karhuha (meaning “Grandfather Car[chemish]”).76 Although the reading of the bowl inscription is disputed, it seems most likely that the text also mentions a Tudhaliya Labarna, who smashed the Tarwian people/​country, possibly referring to a population group also attested in documents from the last years of the Late Bronze Age city of Emar on the Euphrates.77 If the identification of the Tarwian enemy in the bowl inscription is correct, then this source may date to the first quarter of the twelfth century bc. However, where this Tudhaliya Labarna, presumably a higher-​ranking entity than the king at Carchemish, would have resided remains entirely unclear. Even if Kuzi-​Teššub did not call himself a Great King, his descendants called him just that:78 the inscriptions of a certain Runtiya, “country-​lord of Malizi,” from the Tohma Su valley north of Malatya, refer to him as the grandson of Kuzi-​Teššub, Great King and “Hero of Carchemish.”79 As the paleographic style of these inscriptions seems too late to date them so close to Kuzi-​Teššub, as known from the Lidar Höyük seal impression, it has been suggested that Runtiya used the word “grandson” in the more general sense of “descendant.”80 Another “grandson” of Kuzi-​Teššub is King Arnuwanti, who shared 76. The dating of this bowl has been the source of controversy, but its assignment to the twelfth century bc is now widely accepted; see Hawkins 2004; Gander 2015: 460–​471. 77. Mora 2007: 519. 78. Aro 2013a: 256. 79. GÜRÜN §1b; see Hawkins 2000: 296. KÖTÜKALE §1b; see Hawkins 2000: 300. Runtiya appears to have held the title of king at some point, according to the evidence of a seal impression found on the citadel designating him, or a namesake, “King of the land Ma(lizi)”; Hawkins 2000: 575–​576. 80. For objections to this interpretation, see Simon 2016: 68. Photographs suggest that an autopsy of the badly worn rock surface of the GÜRÜN inscription in particular might help to resolve the problems caused by the presence of apparently late sign forms of this text, which may be merely the result of erroneous identifications.

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with Runtiya a father called PUGNUS-​mili, son of Kuzi-​Teššub.81 Arnuwanti also had a grandson who was his namesake (Arnuwanti II), the son of another PUGNUS-​mili (II), who was a “country-​lord,” thus providing us with a genealogy of four generations starting with Kuzi-​Teššub, presumably reaching into the early eleventh century bc.82 There appear to have been at least two kings called PUGNUS-​ mili, and the blocks on which their names appear belong to the earlier phases of the iconographic and technical development of the inscriptions in the Malatya region.83 According to Federico Manuelli’s latest chronological assessment, the earlier reliefs mentioning PUGNUS-​ mili initially had no titles (as these were incised only later), while the second king of this name called himself “king” and “king’s seed,” but not “Great King.” It appears that the kings and country-​lords of Malatya legitimized their claims to kingship either through their connection to Kuzi-​Teššub of Carchemish, whom they considered to have been a “Great King” (although quite possibly he never held this title in his lifetime), and/​or perhaps the term “king’s seed” referred to their descendance from the Hattusa line of the Great Kings of the Hittite imperial age.84 Also in terms of the material culture of the Malatya region, a change is visible in Arslantepe’s orientation away from the Central Anatolian plateau and toward northern Syria. The citadel of Arslantepe seems to have been engulfed by destruction midway through the thirteenth century bc, somewhat earlier than the destruction events that marked the end of various sites in Syria and on the Levantine coast (but not 81. İSPEKÇÜR §1; see Hawkins 2000: 302. The writing of part of the name as a Latin word in capitals indicates that this is a logogram (word sign), for which a phonetic value has not yet been securely established, in this case in the shape of a fist (hence, Latin pugnus). 82. DARENDE §1; see Hawkins 2000: 305. 83. Manuelli 2019, who calls this phase “I Malatya,” which he assumes to be earlier than the phase “Malatya I” of Orthmann 1971. 84. Manuelli 2019. The most recent interpretation of this hieroglyph is as “king’s seed,” which would seem to identify a member of the royal family; see Dinçol et al. 2014: 150.

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Carchemish, which remained unaffected).85 At least in the northern part of Arslantepe, this destruction did not interrupt the settlement sequence. The pottery styles attested at the site after this event, particularly for cooking vessels, feature squatter shapes that are also known from Syrian sites, including Carchemish and Tell Afis, and at the same time, spool-​ shaped loom weights as attested in much of the Eastern Mediterranean first appear at the site.86 Spool-​shaped loom weights, and the resultant weaving technology, are part of a cultural package that also includes food-​preparation techniques and characteristic architecture, such as the use of apsidal ground plans and a specific type of hearth, and this package has been used to pinpoint migration during this period.87 A key role is held by a particular style of pottery designated as Late Helladic/​Mycenaean IIIc, which appears during the twelfth and eleventh centuries bc at sites along the Cilician and Levantine coasts (with a comparable type, called “Philistine” in the southern Levant)—​first as isolated import pieces, and then in the form of locally made imitations. This pottery style has Aegean connections and has been associated with the phenomenon of the “Sea Peoples,” a term used in a single inscription of Pharaoh Merenptah (1213–​1203 bc),88 which in modern research is frequently used as a generalized designation for any of the mobile maritime and land-​based groups mentioned by Rameses III (1181–​1150 bc) that have been connected with the collapse of some of states and urban centers of the early twelfth century bc (­chapter 28 in volume 3).89 One reason why these groups have received

85. For the latest radiocarbon dates of the destruction of the Gate Complex and discussion of the beginning of the Iron Age sequence at Malatya, see Manuelli et al. 2021; for Carchemish, see Marchetti (ed.) 2019–20: 274–277. 86. Manuelli 2018; Giacosa in Marchetti (ed.) 2019–20: 276–277. 87. Yasur-​Landau 2010. 88. Great Karnak Inscription: l. 52; see Manassa 2004: 162. For the “Sea Peoples,” see, e.g., Killebrew and Lehmann (eds.) 2013; and Fischer and Bürge (eds.) 2017. 89. Medinet Habu, Second Pylon, Year 8: “No land could stand up against (before?) their arms, beginning from Hatti: Qode, Carchemish, Arzawa and Alasia cut off all at once in one place”; see Kitchen 2008: 34.

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much interest is because one of them, the Pulasti (Egyptian pw-​r-​s3-​t/​tj; frequently also normalized as Peleset), has been associated with the biblical Philistines, and the recent rediscovery of the kingdom of Falastin, spelled in Anatolian hieroglyphic writing W/​Palasti/​an(i), has fueled the discussion, due to the similarity of its name.90 Judging from the textual evidence, the kingdom of Falastin is attested in the eleventh and tenth centuries bc and centered around the Amuq Plain. As the results of both new and older excavations in this region are being published and fresh data become available, opinions on Falastin are still fluid, but a few remarks can be made here. First, wherever locally made LH IIIC pottery is attested in this region, it usually forms a small percentage of the total local ceramic repertoire, namely vessels used for fine dining or feasting, often as local imitations. It therefore does not appear to be the case that large population groups would have moved into the region and introduced their new pottery traditions, replacing the locals and their wares. Second, individual settlements, even if located very close to each other, seem to have developed their own LH IIIC ceramic traditions at different times: Tell Afis, to the south of the Amuq Plain, sometime after 1200 bc; Tell Tayinat (ancient Kunulua/​Kullania) in the center of the Amuq Plain sometime after 1150 bc; while nearby Chatal Höyük seems to have started producing such wares a little later still, and has sparse evidence of any previous history of imports.91 In this last case, it seems unlikely that migration was the cause of the spread of this ceramic tradition; in other cases, however, limited migration may have provided some impetus, e.g., at Tell Tayinat, if we follow the argumentation of Marina Pucci.92 In regions beyond Falastin, such as Cilicia, the attestation of similar pottery traditions may be due to the participation in a network of trade and exchange centered around Cyprus.93

90. Hawkins 2009. 91. For Tell Afis, see Venturi 2013; for Tell Tayinat, see Janeway 2017; for Chatal Hüyük, see Pucci 2019b: 179–​186, 194, 289–​293. 92. Pucci 2019b: 292. 93. Lehmann 2017; cf. Welton et al. 2019: 305–​311.

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Acknowledging that the regional existence of this ceramic material is owed to a range of varied, multi-​causal, and slow processes would seem to preclude its use as evidence for the identification of any alleged “Philistines of the North” that would have played a role in the events involving the pw-r-s3-t/tj mentioned by Rameses III in his fifth and eighth regnal years. Importantly, the kingdom of Falastin only appears in the eleventh century bc (section 46.4), by which time its name may have held very different connotations, if it was ever connected to them in the first place.94 Some researchers seek to combine the regional spread of the LH IIIC ceramic traditions with the much later-​attested legends concerning the figure of Mopsos (Hieroglyphic Mukasa/​Phoenician mpš; a famous seer in the Greek tradition), from whom the rulers of the Adana region claimed their descent in the eighth century bc.95 However, while these stories must have been significant at that time, they should not be projected back by another 400 years in order to explain phenomena of a previous age’s material culture.96 At the end of the twelfth century bc, the wider region started to come briefly back into the crosshairs of Assyria, which had mostly focused on its internal problems during the previous eighty years. The inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1075 bc) mention marching against the (Ahlamû-​)Arameans, covering the region “from the edge of Suhu to the city Carchemish of the land of Hatti in one day,”97 and then pursuing them over the Euphrates to conquer six of their settlements at the foot of the Jebel Bishri. In this area of the Middle Euphrates, populations

94. Younger 2016. The similarity in the word structures is so striking that the possibility of a relationship should be kept open, pending further research. 95. Yakubovich 2015: 38; Novák 2021: 369. Alternatively, Simon 2018b: 330 argued for a later Cypriot migration, which would have brought Greek names and the Mopsos legend to Cilicia. 96. Lehmann 2017: 247. 97. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: v 46–​50; A.0.87.2: ll. 28–​29; see c­hapter 37 in this volume.

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have a history of shifting from sedentary to mobile lifestyles and back again very quickly, and the social connections between sedentary and mobile population groups tend to be strong.98 Tiglath-​pileser’s interest in the region was presumably sparked by Aramean incursions across the Euphrates toward the Assyrian heartland on the Tigris, which are mentioned in a chronicle text and seem to have forced the Assyrian population to flee to the mountains.99 Further north, Tiglath-​pileser claimed to have received tribute from Milidia (also Melid, modern Malatya). One passage of his annals (mistakenly?) refers to that town as belonging to the land of Hanigalbat, which is the Assyrian term for the heartland of the Late Bronze Age state of Mittani (­chapter 29 in volume 3), while another refers to it as “of the great land of Hatti” and to the receipt of tribute from one Allumari.100 In the former campaign, the Assyrian king had come from Nairi, in the latter he proceeded on to Išuwa, a border zone of the Hittite Empire centered around Elazığ, and from there further north to Enzata. The emergence of a city with monumental architecture at Malatya during the twelfth century bc, as well as the fact that rulers in the area claimed descent from an alleged “Great King,” may have presented a challenge to the Assyrian ruler that needed to be met. On his return from the Lebanon mountains, Tiglath-​pileser also imposed tribute on Ini-​Teššub (II) of Carchemish, identified as “king of the land of Hatti.”101

98. Osborne 2021: 40. For the situation in the early second millennium bc, see Durand 2004; Miglio 2014; and ­chapter 15 in volume 2. 99. Glassner 2004: 188–​191. One should note that where mention is made of exactly who seized the banks of the Tigris, Chronicle 15: l. 11′ is broken. Grayson 1991: 5 assumed that this Aramean intrusion took place at the end of Tiglath-​pileser I’s reign, but it appears to have occurred prior to his expedition to Katmuhu, which took place at the beginning of his reign. 100. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.1: v 33–​41 versus Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4: ll. 31–​32. Allumari has been identified with PUGNUS-​mili found in the Malatya inscriptions (Giusfredi 2010: 43; Bryce 2012: 103–​104; Simon 2016), but this remains unconvincing on methodological grounds, notably the ad hoc creation of phonetic sign values for hieroglyphic signs. 101. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 26–​28.

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The twelfth century bc saw numerous developments that can be seen in the context of the devolution and decentralization of an already comparatively fragmented imperial framework, while at the same time the use of much of its symbolic language was continued. It appears that when the territorial state structures that had previously existed on the Central Anatolian plateau ceased to function, this happened in parallel with depopulation processes that continued a trend that seems to have been underway already in the previous century. All of these factors allowed opportunities for population groups with more flexible economic profiles, whether as part of migratory groups also attested elsewhere (namely the Muska/​Muški) or as local communities or social groups that now rose to prominence where state authority had collapsed (such as the Kaska). South of the Taurus, in northern Syria and on the Levantine coast, there is some evidence suggestive of a sustained but small-​scale Aegean or Anatolian migration. Some of the observed changes in material culture (e.g., the loom weights) are also attested in areas that do not appear to have been targets of migration at this time, such as Malatya/​Arslantepe, where these technological changes seem to have taken hold already before the collapse of the Hittite Empire. There can be no doubt that at the end of the Late Bronze Age, a significant number of sites were destroyed, never to be resettled. Others, however, such as Arslantepe, saw destruction, and yet this did not interrupt the settlement sequence, while Carchemish survived intact. A number of new, smaller settlements were founded in the Amuq Plain. Across this whole area, the use of the hieroglyphic script and a common religious and cultural legacy persist from the Hittite period. It is therefore reasonable to view this period as a direct continuation of the slow disintegration of the Hittite Empire.102 This is also evidenced by the political terminology used in the extant textual sources: in Konya, the former region of Tarhuntassa, a Great King is attested, while other temporally or geographically remote Great Kings are referenced in texts from Malatya and the Elbistan Plain, and possibly a remote Labarna at Carchemish. 102. Simon 2020b.

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46.4.  The eleventh century bc The inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​1075 bc) mention that the Assyrian forces crossed the Euphrates in pursuit of Arameans twenty-​ eight times, twice per year,103 and this took place early in this ruler’s reign. Also the inscription of the Broken Obelisk mentions encounters with the Arameans and the crossing of the Euphrates, as well as Carchemish of the land of Hatti.104 On the basis of stylistic similarities, but also partly on the basis of a certain level of ideological overlap between the descriptions of palace structures in the building inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser I and those (albeit later ones) of Katuwa at Carchemish, it has been hypothesized that it was already during Tiglath-​pileser’s reign that the Assyrians would have encountered the characteristic North Syrian architecture that greatly inspired their own, namely the gates framed by guardian lion sculptures and the processional ways and palaces decorated with orthostats incised with both inscriptions and figural decorations that are typical in the Iron Age.105 If this hypothesis were correct, then Tiglath-​ pileser and his troops must have visited cities that already exhibited some of these features, and both Melid (i.e., Malatya’s settlement mound of Arslantepe) and Carchemish were specifically mentioned in Tiglath-​ pileser’s inscription. However, that these architectural elements would have been in evidence there at this time has not yet been demonstrated by the excavations in these sites. The lack of Assyrian reach into the regions west of the Euphrates may not only have been the consequence of internal problems, but perhaps also was due to the local emergence of new (or transformed) polities that the Assyrian forces did not care to engage directly. For example, there is no reason to doubt that the rulers of Carchemish continued to occupy

103. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.4. 104. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.89.7: l. 21. Note that the monument in question, the Broken Obelisk, has convincingly been assigned to Tiglath-​pileser I rather than Aššur-​bel-​kala of Assyria (1073–​1056 bc); see ­chapter 37 in this volume. 105. Harmanşah 2007: 83–​87; Aro 2009.

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their position as heirs to the Hittite line also after the reign of Ini-​Teššub (II), whom Tiglath-​pileser I had encountered in 1100 bc.106 However, the political landscape for this period is otherwise difficult to reconstruct until later in the eleventh century bc, when various individuals and polities start to emerge from local inscriptions. In any case, it was during the eleventh century bc that the kingdom of Falastin took shape (section 46.3), which was centered on the Amuq Plain. The first evidence for Falastin was uncovered in the inscriptions of the temple of the storm god at Aleppo. The layout of this temple provides a paradigm for the way in which post-​Hittite structures of the Early Iron Age were aligned with extant Late Bronze Age architecture by mixing existing orthostats with newly created ones in a manner that emphasized continuity, but also innovation. As a consequence, the newly carved figure of Taita, the king of Falastin, accompanied by his incised inscription of eleven lines, stood facing the much older figure of the storm god of Aleppo with his epigraphs executed in bas relief, with Taita’s inscription seemingly describing their encounter (figure 46.2).107 Another inscription of the eleventh century bc was incised on several sculptures, which illustrates how existing features were adapted and integrated to suit the contemporary needs: the text began on an Early Iron Age portal lion and then continued on a sphinx of likely Late Bronze Age data.108 The inscription accompanying the figure of Taita facing the storm god lists the visitors that could be expected to come to the temple in order to make offerings to the storm god: king, prince, country-​lord, river country-​lord, as well as “lowly” people.109 This list gives us insight into

106. Note also that Late Bronze Age monumental structures such as the so-​ called Hilani building continued to be used at Carchemish into the Iron Age: Pizzimenti and Scazzosi 2017. 107. ALEPPO 6: §§2–​3 “For my lord, the storm god of Aleppo, I honored the desire [literally, the soul], and for me, the storm god of Aleppo did [that] of the desire [literally, of the soul]”; see Hawkins 2011: 45, following a translation suggested by Theo van den Hout. 108. Aro 2010; Hawkins 2011; Kohlmeyer 2013. 109. ALEPPO 7: §§5–​12.

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Figure 46.2.  King Taita of Falastin and the storm god of Aleppo, as depicted in the temple at Aleppo. Photo courtesy Kai Kohlmeyer.

the political organization of the area, including the earliest attestation of the term “river country-​lord”—​an apt title for the region, given the series of river basins running parallel between Cilicia, the Amuq and Euphrates (section 46.2). Although Carchemish is mentioned in the inscription on a sphinx from Aleppo as the source of a certain item,110 there is no reason to think that Carchemish was controlled by the kingdom of Falastin during the reign of Taita. As Kubaba, the patron goddess of Carchemish, is mentioned in a broken fragment of the same inscription, the text may perhaps have recorded a visit by Kubaba (in the form of her statue) to the temple of the storm god at Aleppo. Nevertheless, with the temple of the storm god of Aleppo, Taita certainly exercised control over a regionally and supra-​regionally important shrine and thus must have had a great

110. ALEPPO 7: §2; see Hawkins 2011: 48.

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deal of influence. His Aleppo inscription also mentions the transport to, or from, Egypt of equids of some kind, possibly through the agency of a scribe (i.e., an administrator).111 Fragmentary though they are, Taita’s Aleppo inscriptions contain valuable information about the king’s international relationships, conducted directly in the case of Carchemish, and through an intermediary in the case of Egypt. Before the discovery of the text in 2003, there was no indication that contacts with Egypt would have existed at such an early date—​highlighting how our knowledge of this period is continually in flux. Finally, where did King Taita reside? The Amuq Plain likely formed the center of Falastin according to the testimony of later inscriptions, and the largest settlement at the time was Tell Tayinat (ancient Kunulua/​ Kullania), which shows clear signs of occupation during the twelfth century bc, although no monumental structures dating to either the twelfth or eleventh century bc have yet been identified there.112 Turning to Carchemish, while it now seems likely that buildings there continued to be used from the Late Bronze to the Iron Age, it is not until the end of the eleventh century bc that historically identifiable individuals are attested for this city. Carchemish chronology is built on a three-​point correlation of, first, these elite individuals and their genealogies with, second, relative chronologies based on the analysis of the iconography and the writing style of monumental sculpture and, third, the names of rulers that the Assyrian kings encountered according to their annalistic inscriptions.

111. The conventional but tentative understanding is that these equids were mules (Hawkins 2011), which were used in the Late Bronze Age Hittite Empire and the Iron Age Assyrian Empire and were considerably more expensive than horses; see Weeden 2014: 52−56; Radner 2014: 73−74, 76. Others have tried to understand them as horses, citing the trade in horses from Egypt with the rest of the Mediterranean region in the Late Bronze Age; see Simon 2017b. The hieroglyphic symbol that is used to denote the type of equid is very difficult to decipher, and the debate concerning its meaning is not yet decided. 112. Taita I (and II) would date to the time prior to Tayinat Building Phase I; see Welton et al. 2019.

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Until recently, there was no overlap in the names attested in the local inscriptions and in the Assyrian sources, and therefore modern scholars dated generations of local rulers into the period before 875 bc, which is when Sangara is mentioned as the first king of Carchemish in the Assyrian sources since Ini-​Teššub in 1100 bc (section 46.6). Local inscriptions allow us to reconstruct a genealogical sequence of four, or possibly five, country-​lords before this time, which takes us back to around 1000 bc, or possibly even into the late eleventh century bc: Suhi I, Astuwalamanza, Suhi II, Katuwa, and perhaps Suhi III (for a discussion, see section 46.6). In modern studies, these rulers are often designated as the Suhi-​Katuwa dynasty. As also at Malatya, we can observe at Carchemish the parallel existence of both (Great) Kings and country-​lords, which presumably represents some kind of continuity from the previous imperial system that knew the Great Kings in the imperial center, and locally subordinate kings or provincial governors.113 How the attested rulers fit together chronologically is difficult to reconstruct. One stele is known of a King Tudhaliya,114 and another of a Great King Tudhaliya;115 and there is also a Great King Ura-​Tarhunza, who was the son of a Great King Sapaziti, as well as a contemporary of the first country-​lord called Suhi (I).116 Hasan Peker, the epigrapher of the Turkish-​Italian excavations at Carchemish, distinguished between the Great King Tudhaliya and the

113. For the system, see Hawkins 1995a; Giusfredi 2010: 65–​115; for forerunners from the period of the Hittite Empire, see Singer 2011: 167. Note that the Luwian term that was formerly rendered phonetically as tarwani (previously translated as “ruler”) and associated with Greek týrannos, Ugaritic srn, and the term srnym as used in the Bible for Philistine leaders, does not need to be included in an account of post-​Hittite governance, as it is now no longer thought to be a title at all, and instead is interpreted as an adjective meaning “just,” with a suggested reading tarrawanni-​; see Melchert 2019. 114. KELEKLİ §2; see Hawkins 2000: 93. 115. KARKAMIŠ A16c; see Hawkins 2000: pl. 2. 116. Dinçol et al. 2014: 144 (KH.11.O.400).

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King Tudhaliya, dating one earlier, and the other later.117 Indeed, the iconography of the stele featuring the Great King Tudhaliya includes a separate crescent moon and winged sun-​disc and this corresponds closely to the imagery of a stele set up on the acropolis of Carchemish by the country-​lord Suhi I; this object is a generation earlier than the stele erected in the temple of the storm god by a priest of Kubaba who was a son of that same Suhi I (for these and other monuments discussed in this paragraph, see section 46.5).118 On the other hand, Sanna Aro has pointed out that the sculpture style used for the Kelekli Stele, which mentions King Tudhaliya, is reminiscent of that of Taita at Aleppo, and she therefore suggested dating it to the eleventh century bc.119 Given that the Kelekli stele mentions a marriage between the king and the daughter of the country-​lord Suhi II, son of Astuwalamanza, the monument would have to be later in date than both a lion fragment belonging to Astuwalamanza120 and the stele of Suhi I, thus ensuring that we can reconstruct a reasonably complete sequence of kings and country-​lords for the eleventh century bc. Nevertheless, this still would leave a large gap in our knowledge of the rulers in the tenth and early ninth centuries bc, unless one assumes that there were several country-​ lords called Astuwalamanza.121 Especially given the way the Suhi-​Katuwa monuments are tied into the dating of other hieroglyphic monuments, the iconography of the Kelekli stele seems anomalous, should the observations concerning its headless figures be considered valid.

117. Marchetti and Peker 2018: 98; also Giusfredi 2010: 50. In the publication of the newly found stele KH.11.0.400 (Dinçol et al. 2014: 144), Tudhaliya was supposed to belong to a younger generation than Ura-​Tarhunza. 118. KARKAMIŠ A4b; see Hawkins 2000: pl. 1. 119. Aro 2013a: 248–​249, n. 75. 120. KARKAMIŠ A14b; see Hawkins 2000: 83–​87. 121. Giusfredi 2010: 49–​50 suggests assigning the Kelekli stele to Suhi I, whose father (Astuwalamanza 0) would have no monuments attached to him and would be contemporary with the father of Ura-​Tarhunza; see also Giusfredi 2010: 104; 2014; 2018: 167. This proposal remains highly speculative.

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Even if the new excavations at Carchemish show that buildings such as the so-​called Hilani continued to be used from the Late Bronze Age onward, it is still very odd that there are no monumental sculptures associated with these Great Kings allegedly dating to the eleventh century bc, and next to no sculptural elements or inscriptions that one can associate with them. Sanna Aro has collected the few eligible fragments from the earlier British excavations, and none of them can convincingly be dated to the relevant period.122 While it cannot be excluded that some stray inscriptional fragments might be slotted somewhere into the twelfth or eleventh century bc,123 we cannot claim with any certainty that the “monumental center” of Carchemish was situated in the same space as the one later built by the Suhi-​Katuwa dynasty in the tenth century bc, although excavations may well change this picture.124 Although building activity that involves the addition of carved orthostats seems to have taken place in the eleventh century bc at the Water Gate,125 the physical imprint left by the Great Kings Sapaziti, Ura-​Tarhunza, and Tudhaliya on Carchemish is so very faint that one could reasonably argue that they in fact resided somewhere else entirely. After Tiglath-​pileser I of Assyria encountered a local ruler called Allumari at Malatya in 1100 bc, the next chronologically significant piece of information available for this city is the destruction of its fortification wall, which has been radiocarbon-​dated on the basis of short-​lived

122. Aro 2013a. 123. E.g., KARKAMIŠ A18d (Hawkins 2000: 83) mentioning a king Huwa-​ SARMA; the king (or prince) mentioned in the fragment KH.11.O.326, a surface find from the recent excavations; see Peker and Weeden 2013: 136, fig. 5; Peker 2016: 13, cat. 1, pl. I. 124. Aro 2013a: 255. Monumental building remains dating to the Iron Age IA have now been found in the Lower Palace area west of the King’s Gate, see Marchetti (ed.) 2019−20: 275. 125. Gilibert 2011: 29.

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plant samples to just before, or immediately after, 1000 bc,126 meaning that the wall would have been in use since around 1150 bc. Notably, the destruction of this fortification wall does not seem to indicate a break in Malatya’s settlement sequence (section 46.5). In order to fill the gaps in our information on Malatya in the eleventh century bc, we can draw on the genealogical sequence of the local rulers in a series of local inscriptions, although in terms of paleography and style, it is still unclear whether the monuments in question should indeed be dated to the tenth or early ninth century bc. In any case, the Izgın stele from the plain of Elbistan mentions a country-​lord of Malizi, whose name should probably be read as Tara, as (re)building a city called Daida, likely to have been located nearby.127 This same city is also attested in the inscription of the country-​lord Runtiya from Gürün in the Tohma Su valley (section 46.3), and it therefore appears that Malatya had some influence over the Elbistan Plain since the twelfth century bc.128 Furthermore, Tara claims to have annexed a city called Hirika, which seems to have been somewhere between the Elbistan Plain and Kahramanmaraş (Assyrian Marqasu), the center of ancient Gurgum, as far as we can gather from the fact that later a king of Gurgum claimed to have attacked it during the ninth century bc.129 Tara’s grandson was Halpasulupi, who appears on two of the reliefs from the Lion Gate at Arslantepe, Malatya’s ancient settlement mound.

126. Manuelli and Mori 2016. 127. Hawkins 2000: 315. The name is written CRUS-​RA/​I, and the phonetic reading as Tara is not completely certain. 128. GÜRÜN §2; see Hawkins 2000: 296. The fragmentary and undateable rock inscription TANIR (Alparslan and Alparslan 2013) from the creek of the Hurman River also seems to indicate a limit of the political influence of the rulers at Malatya, which includes the Elbistan Plain. 129. MARAŞ 4: §6; see Hawkins 2000: 256. The other possibility is that Hirika is a writing for the regional name Hilakku, which is equated with Rough Cilicia (section 46.6).

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Figure 46.3. A relief and inscription (known as MALATYA 1) of Halpasulupi of Melid from the Lion Gate at Arslantepe, the settlement mound of Malatya. Drawing by J.D. Hawkins, with kind permission.

One of these reliefs features his genealogy, in which he called himself “the country-​lord Tara’s grandson” (figure 46.3). In the other relief, he bears the title “king’s seed,” which had also been used by PUGNUS-​ mili in the twelfth century bc.130 If Tara and Halpasulupi are correctly dated to the eleventh century bc, then they are part of this same cluster of country-​lords, kings, and “king’s seeds” (i.e., royal relatives), as well as Great Kings that we have already encountered in our discussion of the twelfth century bc. With a view to the attested architecture, idioms, and ideologies, the period of continuity with the Hittite Empire of the Late Bronze Age that we have observed for the twelfth century bc (section 46.3) continued also in the eleventh century bc. Even though the previous institutional framework no longer existed, the post-​imperial rulers of northern Syria seem to have behaved as if they were themselves Hittite kings—​but this was to change in the following period.

130. MALATYA 1 and MALATYA 4; see Hawkins 2000: 319, 321; Manuelli 2019. For the debates surrounding the dating of this ruler, see section 46.3.

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46.5.  The tenth century bc From around 1000 bc onward, we see major changes at sites throughout the region. However, the destruction by fire of the fortification wall adjoining the Lion Gate at Malatya’s ancient settlement mound of Arslantepe, and its replacement with an occupation horizon dotted by pits and silos, may not necessarily indicate that the city itself was completely destroyed, or the settlement sequence interrupted. Recent excavations indicate that monumental public structures closer to the citadel were being used in the tenth and ninth centuries bc,131 and we may therefore interpret the changes as a reorganization of the city. At Carchemish, too, we can observe the beginnings of a reconfiguration of the monumental center of the city, associated with the attestation of inscriptions of the Suhi-​Katuwa dynasty of country-​lords at the end of the eleventh and the beginning of the tenth century bc; these country-​lords’ relationship with the Great Kings is still unclear to us, although during this time, the first appear to gradually supersede the latter.132 The earliest architectural work undertaken seems to date to the tenth century bc and takes the form of reliefs on the King’s Gate and the Herald’s wall, both of which were located on different sides of the recently uncovered building dubbed by the excavators “Katuwa’s Palace,”133 after one of the members of the Suhi-​Katuwa dynasty. The earliest two securely dated inscriptions are steles that describe the Great King Ura-​Tarhunza’s victory over the land of Sura; the identification of this place is debated, with Assyria and Cappadocia having been suggested.134 The older one of these inscriptions had been set up by the 131. Frangipane et al. 2019: 27–​30. 132. Gilibert 2015 argues that the earliest reliefs from the King’s Gate and the Herald’s Wall are the last monuments of the Great Kings, while later interventions in the area should be attributed to the country-​lords. 133. Gilibert 2011: 38–​50; Marchetti (ed.) 2019−20: 278. 134. KH.11.O.400 (Dinçol et al. 2014); KARKAMIŠ A4b (Hawkins 2000: pl. 1). Sura is written CORNU+​ra/​i =​ sú+​ra/​i, and Hawkins 2000: 81 and Weeden 2013: 10 identify this with Assyria, but only tentatively, especially given that Assyria(n) is written differently in later inscriptions from Carchemish.

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country-​lord Suhi I on the citadel, but was found in a secondary position on the side of the mound’s slope, having fallen down at some point. The later inscription was erected by his son, the priest of the goddess Kubaba, in the temple of the storm god.135 By the mid-​to late tenth century bc, we see Carchemish act defensively, suggesting that while it had interests beyond its immediate territory, these were threatened by other regional powers. Also, the city was wealthy enough to carry out extensive monumental building programs. The country-​lord Suhi II and his father Astuwalamanza are depicted on portal lions that were probably unearthed during the first British Museum excavations of the Gatehouse of the Great Staircase at Carchemish, a later structure that contained a number of archaic or archaizing pieces.136 On the other hand, the depiction of Suhi takes center stage in the representational program on the so-​called Long Wall of Sculpture, where a lengthy inscription details his achievements, and another presents his wife, Wasti.137 Suhi also mentions an act of violence perpetrated by one Hatamana against the storm god of S(a)mar(i)ka, a place that can probably be identified with modern Siverek to the east of the Euphrates, and possibly also with the toponym Išmerikka of the

However, in the eighth-​ century-​ bc bilingual inscription of ÇINEKÖY §§6–​7 (Payne 2012: 43), the slightly different spelling su+​ra/​i corresponds to Phoenician ‘šr, which definitely denotes Assyria. Note also the possible ethnic adjective Surawani “Assyrian (?),” used as a personal name in a text from eighth-​ century-​bc Carchemish, if the reconstruction is correct (Peker 2016: 36 cat. 21). On the other hand, Simon 2012 identified Sura with Cappadocia, although this term is not attested in any local inscriptions. 135. Dinçol et al. 2014. 136. KARKAMIŠ A14a and A14b. The lion sculptures were actually found near the Watergate; see Woolley and Barnett 1952: 163. But workmen remembered that they had already previously been excavated by Henderson, specifically on the Great Staircase. This has caused conflicting statements concerning the findspot in the secondary literature; see Hawkins 1972; 2000: 84; Aro 2003: 314; Gilibert 2011: 28, 36–​37. 137. KARKAMIŠ A1a+​b ; see Hawkins 2000: 87–​92.

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Hittite imperial period.138 The aggressor was punished by the storm god, that is, defeated by Suhi, and Suhi cursed anyone who would deface his inscriptions with the same fate that had befallen Hatamana. Achieved with the help of “these gods” (presumably the deities depicted on the Long Wall of Sculpture), this individual’s punishment included military aggression against several unlocated settlements, presumably situated to the east of the Euphrates. The country-​lord Suhi II seems to have led armies independent of any Great King. It is possible that the marriage of the daughter of a country-​lord Suhi to a King Tudhaliya, as mentioned on the Kelekli Stele, took place in Carchemish at the time, although it cannot be excluded that these people are earlier figures.139 Just 20 km downstream from Carchemish, on the other side of the Euphrates, lies the settlement mound of Tell Ahmar, long identified with the Assyrian toponym Til Barsip, but according to local hieroglyphic inscriptions also known as Masuwari, a place name that may be a version of the imperial Hittite toponym Mazuwadi.140 A destruction level that has been radiocarbon-​dated to sometime between 1150–​1050 bc coincides with the disappearance of Middle Assyrian ceramics at Tell Ahmar while the local pottery traditions continued. The succeeding period (identified as occupational phase 5 and designated as “Aramean” by the

138. KARKAMIŠ A1a: §1, §38; see Hawkins and Weeden 2016. The name Hatamana (l. 1, spelled Hatanima) suggests a name containing the divine element Hadad or Adad. Adad-​nerari II of Assyria (911–​891 bc) dates too late for a likely identification, but is not completely excluded, given that king’s expeditions to the Khabur region, as well as to Huzirina (modern Sultantepe), which is situated only 80 km away from Siverek; see Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 45. The Assyrian king received monkeys as a gift from Bit-​Adini, an Aramean polity located east of the great bend of the Euphrates, just south of Carchemish; see Grayson 1991: A.0.99.2: l. 48. For the possible relationship of the Siverek area to Carchemish and Kummuh, see Simon 2019a: 130–​133. 139. Hawkins 2000: 76–​77; see also section 46.4. 140. This would require interpreting the name as an early and consistent example of rhotacism, where /​d/​turns into /​r/​between vowels. The sometimes proposed identification as a “Luwianized” form of Muṣri, a toponym that is attested in Assyrian texts from the second half of the second millennium bc onward, was convincingly refuted by Younger 2016: 136 with n. 82.

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most recent excavators) is defined by the monumental building work undertaken on the acropolis.141 Nine inscriptions in Anatolian hieroglyphic script on steles dedicated to the storm god and fragments from secondary contexts at the site and its surrounding area, as well as the antiquities market, possibly date to this time.142 Five of the nine inscriptions from Tell Ahmar were commissioned by Hamiyata (a name that most scholars agree is of Northwest Semitic origin143); and another text by Hamiyata’s brother and subject, Arpa,144 whereas one of the latest inscriptions from this text cluster was written in the name of a son of Ariyahina (name lost), a descendant of a Hapatila, identified as the king of a country whose name is broken off.145 The depictions of the storm god, as well as the epigraphic style and the literary motifs of the inscriptions, make these objects comparable to monuments of the wider post-​Hittite world, and specifically of the Suhi-​Katuwa dynasty at Carchemish. Given that the texts document four consecutive generations of rulers, this cluster of inscriptions is usually assigned to the period between the early tenth and early ninth centuries bc—​the time before the Assyrian Empire encountered, from 875 bc onward in that particular region, the Aramean state formation Bit-​ Adini, ruled by Ahuni.146 These texts cast light on the complex history of two local dynasties, on the one hand the house of Hamiyata, and on the other the house of Ariyahina’s son, who states that he belongs to an older dynasty which had been supplanted by Hamiyata’s father, after the king died in the land of Ana when Ariyahina was a child.147 When Hamiyata restored

141. Bunnens 2013: 182–​183; Jamieson 2020: 66–​67. 142. Hawkins 2000: 224–​248; 2006: 11–​31; Payne 2012: 91–​94. 143. For literature on this subject, see Younger 2016: 98. 144. ALEPPO 2; see Hawkins 2000: 235–​238. 145. TELL AHMAR 1; see Hawkins 2000: 239–​243. 146. Hawkins 2000: 225; Younger 2016: 136. 147. TELL AHMAR 1: §§10–​11; see Hawkins 2000: 240. The land of Ana has been identified with Anat on the Middle Euphrates (Hawkins 2000: 242), or

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Ariyahina’s son to a social position greater than even that of his own brothers, Hamiyata’s son “decreed evil for me.”148 Although the text is badly broken, the sheer existence of the monument would seem to indicate that Ariyahina’s son eventually succeeded in ousting the son of Hamiyata and reclaimed his ancestral throne. Discussions of these two dynasties revolve around two questions. First, how did their realm relate to the polity of Bit-​Adini, as attested in the ninth century bc?149 While many arguments focus on ethnicity (Luwian versus Aramean), these are based only on the etymological interpretation of the few attested names and remain essentially inconclusive. Also, it is not at all certain whether such postulated differences would necessarily lead to conflict, as expressions of blended Aramean-​ Hittite culture are certainly attested in the wider region (most famously, albeit later, at Sam’al, modern Zincirlı). The second question concerns the relationship of the Tell Ahmar dynasties, politically and territorially, with the contemporary Suhi-​Katuwa dynasty of country-​lords at nearby Carchemish. In the following periods, the geographical spread of hieroglyphic inscriptions and the place names they refer to in the lands encircled by the great bend of the Euphrates—​from Hadatu (modern Arslan Tash) in the east to Anat in the south—​can perhaps be contrasted with the directions of the regional interests of Carchemish. We have already observed when discussing the broadly contemporary monuments of Suhi II that the attention of Carchemish seems to have been directed to the northeast, to the region of Siverek, while we shall see that toward the end of the tenth century and the beginning of the ninth century bc, they were oriented toward the west. At Carchemish, the building work initiated by previous country-​ lords was continued by Katuwa, son of Suhi II, who fitted the King’s

alternatively with Hana, a term which could refer to the area of the confluence of the Khabur and the Euphrates and was used in the second millennium bc to refer to mobile population groups (Fales 2013: 36; Younger 2016: 137). 148. TELL AHMAR 1: §19; see Hawkins 2000: 240. 149. Younger 2016: 137–​143.

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Gate with orthostats and erected a colossal statue called Atrisuha (possibly a personification of the spirit of Suhi), as stated in an inscription on the west jamb of the gate:150 while the statue and the orthostats have been found during the site’s excavations, the wooden “upper floor” that he built for his wife Ana is only known from this text. It also mentions a rebellion and the loss of lands, using a similar word to the one attested in an inscription from Tell Ahmar in order to designate the enemy of Hamiyata’s father, presumably a relative,151 although in the text from Carchemish, there are several such opponents.152 Whether or not the rebellion was successful, Katuwa’s attention turned to the west, as we learn from another inscription that was found face down on two slabs that may have originally stood at the Royal Buttress on the west side of the building dubbed “Katuwa’s Palace.”153 This text mentions that “this city” had previously been empty and belonged to a certain Ni(?)nuwi, before Katuwa “pitahaliya-​ed it with/​ from the grandsons of Ura-​Tarhunza,” possibly referring to the Great King known from the time of Suhi I (section 46.4). Whatever specific action is indicated by this verb, a recent interpretation suggests that it was not a hostile act.154 The alleged emptiness of the city, presumably Carchemish, conflicts with the building works undertaken by the previous generations of country-​lords and may be a literary, or perhaps a legal, trope. Was Ni(?)nuwi one of Ura-​Tarhunza’s grandsons, or was he the person from whom Katuwa regained the city with the help of his grandsons?155 The toponym Muzik is mentioned in this context, either as an 150. Hawkins 2000: 94–​100. 151. TELL AHMAR 1: §11; see Hawkins 2000: 240. 152. KARKAMIŠ A11a: §5; see Hawkins 2000: 95. 153. Woolley and Barnett 1952: 193, 202; Hawkins 2000: 102. 154. Melchert 2011: 75–​77. By contrast, Giusfredi 2020 interprets the verb as a loan word from Akkadian with a military meaning, a currently unverifiable proposal. 155. Giusfredi 2020 identified Ni(?)nuwi with Ninuayu, the Assyrian year eponym of the year 899 bc, and postulates an Assyrian attack that Katuwa repelled together with the grandsons of Ura-​Tarhunza. The reading of the first syllable

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addition to the realm or as part of an exchange of land; it may have been located west of Carchemish, likely on the border of its territory (section 46.6).156 The text also states that in the same year, Katuwa “carried off the Kawean chariot(ry),” marching to lands that none of his forefathers had ever reached and laying waste to them.157 The city of Kawa, as mentioned here, may refer to a place in Plain Cilicia (Greek Cilicia Pedias), which is called Que by the Assyrians, but this identification is problematic, especially as a roughly contemporary hieroglyphic inscription from the far side of the Amanus range seems to refer to that same place as the land of Hiyawa.158 Moving southwest from Carchemish, the inscriptions of a second King Taita of Falastin and his mother Kupapiya have been found at Meharde and Sheizar, located on the Orontes about 18 km downstream from Hamath. These inscriptions are the southernmost Falastinian inscriptions known to date and should probably be dated to the earlier tenth century bc.159 Stylistically, they appear to be a little later than the inscriptions of Taita I at Aleppo and therefore have been plausibly attributed to his namesake grandson.160

of the name is uncertain, and thus this identification and historical reconstruction must be seen as highly conjectural. 156. KARKAMIŠ A11b: §5; see Hawkins 2000: 103: TERRA.PONERE-​ru-​da mu-​zi-​ki-​ia(URBS) “Muzikean land-​holdings” recalls the name of Mount Munziganni that Ashurnasirpal II of Assyria (883–​859 bc) passed when heading west from Carchemish; see Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: l. 70. 157. KARKAMIŠ A11b: §12; see Hawkins 2000: 103. The riverland of the city Sapisi is wasted and the walls of the city Awayana are pulled (?) down with 100 vehicles of some kind in an inscription of Katuwa that probably came from the Herald’s Wall, to the north of “Katuwa’s Palace” (KARKAMIŠ A12: §§6–​7; see Hawkins 2000: 113). This may refer to the same campaign, as the expression “carried in the chariot(ry)” is attested there too (KARKAMIŠ A12: § 4). 158. ARSUZ: §13; see Dincol et al. 2015. It is perfectly possible for a place name to be realized in two different but similar forms. 159. Hawkins 2000: 415–​417. 160. Hawkins 2009; 2011: 51. The main criterion is the more frequent use of the sign L.386, which eventually becomes a simple word divider in later Hieroglyphic writing. On the basis of the shape of the sign wa/​i in the SHEIZAR inscription,

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Based on etymological arguments, Taita has been connected to Toi/​ Tou of Hamath, who according to biblical sources was an ally of King David against Hadad-​ezer of Zobah,161 although such an identification cannot be substantiated. If they were indeed the same person, then the biblical sources were not entirely well informed about the political situation up north. The two steles from Meharde and Sheizar may well be funerary monuments. The stele from Meharde honored the “Divine Queen of the Land,” while the one from Sheizar was erected on behalf of Taita’s 100-​ year-​old mother Kupapiya, celebrating her many descendants. Does the position of the monument perhaps imply that the king’s mother originated in this region, some 110 km south of Falastin’s presumed capital city Kunulua/​Kullania (modern Tell Tayinat) in the Amuq Plain? If so, the two steles should be seen as evidence for the extent of the contacts maintained by the kingdom of Falastin, rather than as an indication of its territorial expanse. Given that the Amuq Plain constituted the central region of the kingdom of Falastin, also the two steles with duplicate texts from Arsuz (Classical Rhosus) should be seen as territorial outliers, as they were located on the far side of the Samandağ mountain in the Gulf of Iskenderun (also known as the Gulf of Alexandretta); these twin monuments likely are of somewhat later date than the steles from Meharde and Sheizar and should possibly be attributed to the second half of the tenth century bc.162 The Arsuz steles were inscribed by Suppiluliuma, son of Manana, king of Falastin, who proclaimed in the inscription that he had subjugated “this city,” presumably the ancient settlement at Arsuz, at the beginning of his reign, an act that was part of a conflict with the city of

Giusfredi 2018 dated Taita II to the ninth century bc and declared him a ruler of Aribua, as there is no room for a further ruler of Patin in this period. It is not apparent to this author why the sign form would have to be so late. 161. 2 Sam 8:9−10; 1 Chron 18:9−10; see Steitler 2010; Emanuel 2015. 162. Dinçol et al. 2015.

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Adana and the land of Hiyawa (i.e., Cilicia, Assyrian Que).163 But as his steles were found at Cilicia’s southeastern-​most corner, he does not seem to have gained much of a foothold in Hiyawa.164 As discussed earlier in this section, Katuwa of Carchemish may have campaigned against Kawa (perhaps Hiyawa/​Que) around the same time, or a little later, so the region was presumably of some significance, despite the contemporary lack of local inscriptions from Cilicia proper. The inscriptions of Suppiluliuma’s Arsuz steles include evidence for the mythological tradition of the storm god of Aleppo, as the grain god Kumarma (known as Kumarbi in the sources of the second millennium bc) is identified as his “mother” when invoked to protect the steles.165 That the storm god was the offspring of this male deity is a well-​known element of Hurrian mythology and also included in a Hittite epic from Hattusa.166 The rulers of Falastin seem to have been partial to the storm god, as Taita I of Falastin had placed his own image opposite that of the storm god in the latter’s temple at Aleppo (section 46.4). At Tell Tayinat, Building Phase I (now dated to the middle of the tenth century bc) has been hypothetically connected to the time of King Suppiluliuma of Falastin,167 marking the first attestation of monumental sculptures with hieroglyphic inscriptions at Tell Tayinat.168 Two separate pieces of the fragmentary inscription on a colossal throne mention a certain Halparuntiya as well as the ethnic adjective Falastinean, although it is not beyond doubt whether the two fragments belong to

163. ARSUZ 1+​2: §§6–​14; see Dinçol et al. 2015: 64–​65. Oreshko 2018: 27–​28 claimed that the name Adana here is another writing of (Ah)Hiyawa, a Hittite imperial term for an Aegean polity (­chapter 31 in volume 3), but the arguments are epigraphically difficult to accept. Cf. Simon 2018b: 316–​317. 164. Cf. Dillo 2016. The first editors (Dinçol et al. 2015) thought that the steles would have been on their way to somewhere else. 165. ARSUZ 1+​2: §24a; see Dinçol et al. 2015; Weeden 2018: 352–​354. 166. Hoffner 1998: 43. 167. Welton et al. 2019: 323. 168. Hawkins 2000: 361–​387.

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the same artifact.169 The inscription looks much like those of the Suhi-​ Katuwa dynasty at Carchemish, and thus likely dates to the same period of the late tenth to early ninth century bc. Despite the resemblance of the names, this would make it too early to be associated with Qalparunda of Unqi who paid tribute to Shalmaneser III of Assyria in 857 bc. About 100 km north of Tell Tayinat lay the small kingdom of Sam’al, which in later years had its center at Zincirlı. However, during the tenth century bc, this place does not yet seem to have been a capital city. Its architectural layers are dated to the end of Iron Age II, although there is considerable debate whether an earlier date should be assumed.170 On the basis of its sculptural style, a stele from Karaburçlu, located just north of Zincirlı, has been dated to the late tenth or early ninth century bc,171 but because of the late paleography of its hieroglyphic inscription, this text was likely added at a later stage.172 North of the kingdom of Sam’al but still south of the Taurus main ridge lies Gurgum, a small regional state situated on one of the main routes leading from Syria into Central Anatolia. Archaeological surveys have identified tweny-​five settlement mounds in this region, but there is not yet enough chronological information published to establish which of these were occupied during the earlier Iron Age.173 In inscriptions from around the modern city of Kahramanmaraş (Assyrian Marqasu), which were without exception found in unstratified contexts, a local dynasty is attested. The oldest known text is dated to the mid-​tenth century bc.174 The monument was commissioned by a man called Larama, whose genealogy extends back to his grandfather Astuwaramanza and

169. Hawkins 2000: 366. 170. Younger 2016: 373–​424. 171. Orthmann 1971: 54; Bonatz 2000: 19, C32. 172. KARABURÇLU; see Hawkins 2000: 276, pl. 127. A later dating for the hieroglyphic inscription makes it unlikely that it can be used as evidence for an earlier “Luwian” presence than an “Aramean” one in the area; cf. Younger 2016: 391. 173. Konyar 2010. 174. MARAŞ 8; see Hawkins 2000: 252–​255.

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therefore to the early tenth century bc, or possibly even the late eleventh century bc.175 Larama referred to Gurgum as “my riverland,” a place that he had found “empty” before he planted vineyards and filled its granaries (likely a literary trope).176 A later inscription refers to Larama, as well as other rulers of Gurgum, as “governor” (tapariyali),177 which may suggest that they were dependent on a king. There is little inscriptional material from this period in the Elbistan Plain or at Malatya, although it is possible that the three generations of kings attested in one of the hunting reliefs from Malatya, as well as the Izgın Stele, can be dated to this time. Also a second hunting relief from Malatya, which mentions a Mariti, son of Zuwarimi, may possibly date to this period, although the paleographic data used to support this hypothesis are flimsy.178 In this author’s view, attempts to attribute inscriptions from Cappadocia and the Konya region to the late tenth or early ninth century bc are not convincing. Nevertheless, the increasing social complexity in these regions is arguably reflected in developments in the material culture on the Anatolian plateau: on the one hand, the spread of the so-​called Alişar IV Ware, an attractively decorated type of pottery with deer and circle motifs painted on vessels that seem to have been used for feasting, and on the other hand, changes in the local settlement patterns and the internal structure of the settlements.179 The large underground silos excavated at Niğde/​Kınık Höyük, dated to the tenth century bc, demonstrate the existence of regional administrative structures that were designed to guarantee the longer-​term availability of food supplies.180 Throughout the region, the tenth century bc saw an increase in monumental building activity as well as more frequent military expeditions. 175. Denizhanoğulları et al. 2018: 61. 176. MARAŞ 8: §§2−3; see Hawkins 2000: 253. 177. MARAŞ 1: §3g; see Hawkins 2000: 262. 178. MALATYA 3; see Hawkins 2000: 321–​322. 179. D’Alfonso 2019: 149. 180. D’Alfonso et al. 2020: 22–​23.

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At Carchemish, this period seems to mark the time when power changed hands for good from the line of the Great Kings to the country-​lords, although the title of king continued to be used in the wider region and was eventually also reintroduced at Carchemish. Monumental structures are only attested archaeologically during this century at Carchemish and Tell Tayinat, and this continues to be the case also in the ninth century bc. However, the number of textual sources increases considerably with the beginning of a more sustained Assyrian presence in the region, and the availability of Assyrian royal inscriptions also provides a far better chronological framework.

46.6.  The ninth century bc Given the lack of certainty in dating the local monuments, and consequently the dynasties mentioned in their inscriptions, it remains unclear whether any of the individuals discussed in the previous section—​ including Katuwa at Carchemish, Hamiyata at Tell Ahmar (Assyrian Til Barsip), and especially his son and the son of Ariyahina—​might in fact date already to the first quarter of the ninth century bc, which would place them chronologically directly before the military campaigns of Ashurnasirpal II of Assyria (883–​859 bc). These began at some point after 875 bc (­chapter 37 in this volume), and this king’s inscriptions mention other rulers for these regions. In addition to the already mentioned individuals, a recently identified new inscription that originates from somewhere near Carchemish may reference an additional ruler of Carchemish dating to this period called Suhi (III), who would succeed Katuwa; the monument was commissioned by a servant of Suhi, who was given land by Katuwa.181 It remains unclear, however, whether “servant of Suhi” referred to the contemporary ruler or whether this was merely a reference to Suhi II, whose servant was granted land by his successor Katuwa.182 181. SILSILE 2; see Peker 2016: 48–​49; Giusfredi 2018: 167. 182. I owe this alternative interpretation to J.D. Hawkins (personal communication, April 2021); see also Giusfredi 2018.

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With the possible exception of some inscription fragments that could at least theoretically be dated to this time on stylistic or paleographic grounds, there is otherwise a gap in the available textual sources from Carchemish. It is only toward the end of the ninth century bc that orthostats and inscriptions are again available from the city’s ceremonial center, which testify to its wealth and dominant position in the wider region. From this point onward, there are also regular references to Carchemish in the Assyrian royal inscriptions, and these form the chronological backbone for the reconstruction of the regional history. The first ruler of Carchemish encountered by Ashurnasirpal II of Assyria (883–​859 bc) during his ninth campaign (undertaken at some point between 875 bc and 867 bc) is Sangara, “king of Hatti,”183 and this ruler is also identified as an ancestor in the genealogy of Kamani in a local inscription of the eighth century bc.184 Sangara’s title is broken off in the text on this recently found statue head that preserves his name, albeit fragmentary, in Anatolian hieroglyphic writing, but it is likely that he had the title “country-​lord,” as did all his descendants according to Kamani’s genealogy. The narrative scenes embossed on the bronze bands of the monumental gate from Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat) depict how Ashurnasirpal crossed the Euphrates after departing from Bit-​Adini,185 and how he then received tribute from Sangara at Carchemish,186 which according to the Assyrian king’s enumeration exceeded that of the neighboring states

183. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 65. Also later hieroglyphic inscriptions show that country-​lords could be identified locally as kings: Kamani the king in KARKAMIŠ A4a: §1 (Hawkins 2000: 152) and Kamani the country-​lord in CEKKE §6a (Hawkins 2000: 145). 184. Marchetti and Peker 2018. 185. The Assyrian forces crossed the river either at Til Barsip (Tell Ahmar) or perhaps more likely at Burmarina/​Marina (Tell Shiukh Fawqani), given that a battle took place there, which is depicted and identified on the gate from Imgur-​Enlil: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.81. 186. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.80.

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by far.187 This should be understood as an indication of the comparative wealth of Carchemish in comparison to other regional polities, rather than as a particularly high demand by Ashurnasirpal.188 Furthermore, Carchemish and also Patin (i.e., the Assyrian rendering of Falastin, also called Unqi) handed over a one-​time payment, whereas Bit-​Adini, which had lost a battle against the Assyrian forces of Burmarina/​Marina (Tell Shiukh Fawqani),189 had to pay a yearly tribute, reflecting the different approaches used by the Assyrians in order to deal with the local powers in the west until Sargon II (721–​705 bc) annexed Carchemish in 717 bc.190 At Tell Tayinat, a Suppiluliuma, either the second or third Falastinian ruler of that name, is mentioned in the hieroglyphic inscription on a colossal statue found in 2012 (figure 46.4). He probably should be assigned to the first half of the ninth century, although both the man and his statue could conceivably also date a little earlier. Once again, we are faced with the challenge of how to reconcile the object’s iconography and its inscription’s orthography, paleography, and content with the data from other sources, in this case the Assyrian royal inscriptions. While it is likely that Sapalulme of Patin, who is mentioned in the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) of Assyria in the account of the military

187. The tribute list has 23 entries and includes 20 talents of silver, 100 talents of bronze, 250 talents of iron, and 200 young women; see Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ll. 65−68. Compare this with the tribute consisting of merely 16 components handed over by Ahuni of Bit-​Adini, which moreover lacks any such quantities. While Lubarna of Patin delivered a tribute consisting of only 16 components, these include 20 talents of silver, a talent of gold, 100 talents of tin, 100 talents of iron, 1,000 oxen, 10,000 sheep, and 1,000 linen garments, as well as Lubarna’s daughter; see Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ll. 73−76; cf. Yamada 2000: 225–​227. 188. The Assyrian plundering of Sangara the Hittite is depicted on Shalmaneser’s Balawat Gates and identified with a cuneiform label; see Grayson 1991: A.0.101.80; Yamada 2000: 74. 189. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.81. On the identification of Tell Shiukh Fawqani with Burmarina/​Marina, see Morandi Bonacossi 2000. 190. Radner 2004.

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Figure 46.4.  Statue of Suppiluliuma from Tell Tayinat, as seen from front and back. Photos by J. Jackson.

campaign undertaken in 858 bc,191 should be identified as a ruler called Suppiluliuma,192 the orthography and sign forms in Suppiluliuma’s statue inscription suggest a slightly earlier dating than the time of this encounter. Perhaps this Sapalulme/​ Suppiluliuma should be identified with the king of Patin encountered by Ashurnasirpal II of Assyria some fifteen years earlier, then designated in the Assyrian inscriptions as Lubarna.193 As this name corresponds so closely to the ancient Hittite royal title (“Labarna”), it is very likely that this title was misinterpreted

191. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: i 42−43. 192. The arguments that Simon 2018a raises to contest this identification are not convincing to the present author. By comparison with phenomena that are otherwise known from the (Neo-​)Assyrian dialect, Sapalulme is a likely Assyrian rendering of Suppiluliuma, and this is a more convincing explanation for a name attested in an Assyrian text than explaining its divergence from the Hittite name by reference to Luwian language data. 193. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: iii 72.

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as the ruler’s personal name.194 Otherwise, the colossal statue from Tell Tayinat would have to be a depiction of an earlier Suppiluliuma, a ruler who would have preceded Lubarna, and this would make the Sapalulme encountered in 858 bc the third king of Patin called Suppiluliuma. As opposed to the local iconography of the statue, its inscription somewhat resembles the Assyrian annalistic style: Suppiluliuma describes how he took away eight regions from an unidentified enemy (perhaps Carchemish, Gurgum, Hamath, or Que/​Hiyawa) and that he erected something (perhaps a monument) on the border, as well as some unclear actions concerning 100 towns.195 If this is indeed Assyrian influence, the inscription may have been created after Falastin had come into direct contact with Assyria. Returning to the ninth campaign of Ashurnasirpal II, upon leaving Carchemish, the Assyrian forces took a marching route between the mountains Munziganni (presumably corresponding to Muzik; see section 46.5) and Hamurga (Resul Osman Dağ and Acar Dağ, north of Oylum Höyük), leaving the land of Ahanu (presumably identical with Yahanu, for which see immediately below) “on my left” before approaching Hazazi (modern A’zaz), a city governed by Lubarna of Patin, where the Assyrian king received tribute.196 This could indicate that all the territory along this route as far as A’zaz belonged to Carchemish, as is also suggested by the fact that no toponym that would correspond to the prominent site of Oylum Höyük is mentioned in the account.197 If this was the case, it means that whatever successes Suhi II of Carchemish had achieved either with or against Muzik in the previous century could be

194. Already Fuchs 2001a: 667 assumed that this was a title. 195. The inscription remains as yet unpublished; see Weeden 2013: 15. 196. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ll. 70−77, translating “Mount Ahanu,” although there are no mountains immediately to the east of the route to A’zaz from the north. Bagg 2011: Karte 3.1 equates Munziganni and Hamurga with Harnup Dağı to the north of Carchemish, but this would be in the wrong direction for the route envisioned here. For a discussion with further literature, see Younger 2016: 501–​503. 197. Compare the borders drawn by Brown and Smith 2016: 24, fig. 3.2.

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sustained until this time. After reaching Hazazi, Ashurnasirpal crossed the Aprê River (modern Afrin) and approached Kunulua/​Kullania (modern Tell Tayinat), the royal city of Lubarna of Patin, where the Assyrian king again received extensive tribute, including from Gusi (Agusi) the Yahanite; this reference strongly suggests that Yahanu/​ Ahanu is an alternative name for Patin’s eastern neighbor Bit-​Agusi (with the capital Arpad, likely Tell Rifa’at).198 Ashurnasirpal II then crossed the Orontes, heading south until he reached a fortified city of Lubarna called Aribua, generally thought to be either the site of Jisr al-​Shughur or else Tell Qarqur (Assyrian Qarqar) on the other side of the river.199 From this base, he raided the land of Luhuti (Nuhašše in the sources of the second millennium bc), taking crops and storing them at Aribua, where he celebrated with a feast.200 The Assyrian forces also destroyed the towns of Luhuti, and it is possible that this was connected to the events described in the already discussed inscription of the statue of Suppiluliuma from Tell Tayinat, in which this ruler described actions against 100 towns. Was Ashurnasirpal perhaps operating at the behest of Lubarna/​Sapalulme of Patin when his forces raided Luhuti? If so, this would be a parallel to the claim of Kulamuwa of Sam’al, in an inscription some thirty years later, that in 838 bc he hired the Assyrian king Shalmaneser III to aid him in his war against the dn[n]ym in Que, i.e., Plain Cilicia on the other side of the Amanus range.201 These are good examples of how the patron-​client relationships between the Assyrian Empire and its subordinate polities worked: tribute was paid, and in turn protection was expected, offered, and accepted. At Aribua, we can also observe the realization of a colonial project as the king had Assyrians settled in that city, thereby creating an Assyrian exclave in the Orontes valley. In return, Ashurnasirpal transplanted 198. Bagg 2011: 101, 107. 199. Liverani 1992: 76–​77 with n. 368; Bagg 2011: 174. The site is otherwise associated with Qarqar; see Pitard 1987: 126–​128. 200. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: l. 82. 201. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 24; see Tropper 1993: 27–​46; Younger 2016: 404. See also below in the present section.

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population groups from western regions including “Hatti” (i.e., Carchemish) and Patin/​Falastin to his new imperial capital city of Kalhu (modern Nimrud; see ­chapter 37 in this volume).202 For the great festivities that marked Kalhu’s inauguration, the Assyrian king claimed to have hosted, in addition to tens of thousands of local guests, also 5,000 dignitaries and emissaries from various lands, including delegates from some of the states discussed in the present chapter, namely Kummuh, Gurgum, Melid, Hatti (Carchemish), and Patin/​Falastin.203 At Kummuh (Classical Commagene), inscriptions are locally attested only at the end of the ninth and the beginning of the eighth century bc, with the exception of a few earlier small fragments of inscriptions and sculpture.204 Already in 866 bc, Ashurnasirpal II received a tribute payment of cedar beams, gold, and silver from Qatazili (i.e., Hattusili) king of Kummuh at the city of Huzirina.205 This fits well with the identification of that toponym with the settlement mound of Sultantepe in the upper valley of the Balikh, as the Assyrian king received tribute from the trans-​Euphratean kingdoms before proceeding on a route that eventually passed through Amedi (modern Diyarbakır).206 On the way he crossed Mount Kubbu (perhaps Karacadağ) to descend on, plunder, and destroy the cities of the land of Ašša (of the land of ?) Habhu, “which are before the land of Hatti.”207 Is this region of Hatti possibly the area where Suhi II of Carchemish had previously taken an interest in the storm god of S(a)mar(i)ka (perhaps modern Siverek; section 46.5)?208 If this were the 202. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30: ll. 35−36. 203. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.30: ll. 143−147. 204. ADIYAMAN 2; see Hawkins 2000: 333 with n. 51. 205. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: ll. 95−96. 206. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: l. 107. For the problems in locating Huzirina, see Fales 2012: 108 with n. 54, n. 56. 207. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.1: l. 97. On this part of the Habhu lands, see Fuchs 2000: 78–​81. 208. Bagg 2011: 21 argues that “Hatti” has to refer to the land on the other side of the Euphrates between Carchemish and Melid; see also Fuchs 2000: 80. The other side of the Euphrates, if one traveled northeast from Sultantepe (Assyrian

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case, then Ashurnasirpal would have marched through or around that city without mentioning it. The bronze bands of the monumental gate of Ashurnasirpal from Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat) in the Assyrian central region may provide further evidence of Carchemish’s holdings to the east of the Euphrates:209 a city of Ulluba is mentioned in a cuneiform label as belonging to “Sa(n)gara [ . . . ] of the land of Hatti.”210 Shalmaneser III of Assyria (859–​ 824 bc) built on his father Ashurnasirpal II’s forays into the western territories and expanded on them both geographically, by advancing further into Anatolia to Que (Plain Cilicia; Luwian Hiyawa) and Tabal, and politically, by imposing higher one-​off payments on Carchemish and Patin as well as annual tribute on four other Syrian states.211 However, this Assyrian king was met with considerably more resistance than his father. At the beginning of his reign, Shalmaneser dealt with the same political leaders as Ashurnasirpal had previously. His first military encounter, in 858 bc, was with Ahuni of Bit-​Adini. According to the inscription on Shalmaneser’s so-​called Kurkh Monolith, the Assyrian forces defeated Ahuni at two of his cities while advancing up the Euphrates and crossing the river at a third city, Burmarina Huzirina), would have been Kummuh, which could conceivably be referred to as Hatti, as could Melid. Whether the nearby city of Harran was integrated into the Assyrian Empire by Ashurnasirpal II or his successor Shalmaneser III is not clear; see Novotny 2020: 73 n. 4 (with previous literature). 209. Note also that in the Kurkh Monolith, the city of Malhina is mentioned as being located in the land of Hatti (Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: l. 33: URU.m[al]?-​ hi-​na ina KUR.hat-​te), when this place was clearly situated on the way from Kalhu to Katmuhu and Matiyati (modern Midyat), located on the southeastern side and in the center of the Tur Abdin mountain range, respectively. For attempts to explain away these references to holdings of Hatti east of the Euphrates, see Bagg 2011: 21. 210. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.90. For the suggestion to read Ulluba as Sazaba (and hence identification with Sazabû), see Yamada 2000: 74 n. 188. A similarly named but distinct city called Ulliba is mentioned in another of Ashurnasirpal’s inscriptions, along with other towns from the Upper Tigris region, where Carchemish is unlikely to have ever held lands: Grayson 1991: A.0.101.19: l. 98. 211. Yamada 2000: 271–​272, 240. Mentioned are Patin, Sam’al, Carchemish, and Kummuh. Compared to the one-​off tributes, the annual tributes are minimal.

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(modern Tell Shiukh Fawqani), which lay 9 km downstream from Carchemish.212 Shalmaneser received the tribute of Qatazili/​Hattusili of Kummuh, just as Ashurnasirpal had, and then defeated Ahuni at his city Paqarahubuni, which is generally thought to lie north of Carchemish, because Shalmaneser proceeded directly from there to Gurgum, the region around modern Kahramanmaraş (Assyrian Marqasu), where he also received tribute. Even though the Assyrian forces must have marched through or around its territory in order to reach Paqarahubuni, Carchemish is not at all mentioned at this point. But once the Assyrians left Gurgum in order to head southward toward the territory of Sam’al (centered on modern Zincirlı), they encountered at a city called Lutibu (possibly modern Sakçagözü, Yesemek or one of the other larger mounds in the plain) the combined forces of Sam’al, Patin/​Falastin, Carchemish, and Bit-​Adini, led by the very same rulers who had previously dealt far more amicably with Ashurnasirpal (apart from Sapalulme of Patin, who may well have been Lubarna, as suggested earlier in the present section). Shalmaneser’s forces beat the allied armies back to the Orontes River and the Patinean city of Alimuš (or Aliṣir; unlocated), where they were joined by further allies from Que (Cilicia Pedias/​Plain Cilicia), Hilakku (Cilicia Trachea/​Rough Cilicia), Yasbuq (likely situated in the northern parts of the Beqaa Valley),213 and Yahanu (Bit-​Agusi/​Arpad): these are all southern and western post-​Hittite and Aramean states, while the northern ones had already paid tribute to the Assyrian Empire by that time.214 Shalmaneser’s claim of a victory was presumably not exaggerated. When he returned to the region in the following year of 857 bc, the rulers of a number of these polities paid him tribute, including the new king of Patin, Qalparunda (i.e., Halparuntiya). However, Carchemish was not listed among the states paying tribute, despite the fact that a siege had been mounted against Sazabû (possibly Tell al-​Qana), identified as a city

212. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: i 29−36. 213. Na’aman 1999: 424. 214. Yamada 2000: 95–​98.

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of Sangara of Carchemish.215 Even though the imperial mechanisms of control seem to have been established very quickly in the region, it is clear that Shalmaneser still encountered numerous obstacles in his exercise of power. It is therefore of great interest to observe which places are not mentioned in his inscriptions (e.g., Carchemish in the campaign report for 857 bc), as these omissions possibly indicate areas of resistance at the time. At this time, Shalmaneser still encountered resistance from Bit-​Adini and its ruler Ahuni, who was eventually defeated a few years later in 855 bc at Šitamrat, according to the Assyrian sources a mountain fortress on the banks of the Euphrates.216 A new aspect of the imperial policy pursued under Shalmaneser was to seize enemy cities and settle Assyrians in them, often also renaming these places. Within the territories of Bit-​Adini, e.g., Til Barsip (modern Tell Ahmar) became Kar-​Salmanu-​ašared (meaning “Shalmaneser’s Quay”) and Nappigu (modern Manbij) became Lita-​ Aššur (meaning “Might of Aššur”).217 Once the northern Orontes area was temporarily pacified, Shalmaneser was able to advance upstream to Hamath and beyond to Qarqar (modern Tell Qarqur), where another large coalition force, this time led by Damascus, was defeated in 853 bc in a great pitched battle known today as the Battle of Qarqar.218 Returning to the local sources, Halparuntiya I of Gurgum (corresponding to the region of modern Kahramanmaraş) reports his capture of the city of Iluwasi from (?) the land of Hirika,219 which probably corresponds to the same area that was annexed by Melid (Malatya) according to the Izgın stele from the eleventh century bc, there called Hilika (section 46.4). Halparuntiya I, son of Muwatalli, can likely be identified with the ruler of Gurgum called Qalparuda in the Assyrian inscriptions, who paid tribute to Shalmaneser in 853 bc and whose father Mutallu

215. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 19. 216. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 66−75. 217. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 35. 218. Grayson 1996: 23–​24: A.0.102.2: ii 86−102. 219. MARAŞ 4: §§2–​6; see Hawkins 2000: 256–​257.

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(i.e., Muwatalli) had previously paid tribute in 858 bc.220 It has been suggested that Hirika might refer to Hilakku (Rough Cilicia), and a newly discovered inscription from the end of the tenth century bc reports Gurgum taking action against Adana and Hilika, which would seem to support this identification.221 If Hirika/​Hilika indeed refers to Hilakku, Halparuntiya’s attack on this place likely happened in concert with Shalmaneser III’s campaign against Cilicia, and not as an independent engagement.222 However, the capture of Iluwasi in Hirika could refer to a separate conflict, and in this case, it would seem more likely to assume its location immediately to the east of Gurgum, as this fits the geopolitical position of that state much better.223 Turning now to the kingdom of Hamath on the Orontes, which was in terms of its territory presumably the heir of the Late Bronze Age polity of Tunip (­chapter 28 in volume 3), its hieroglyphic inscriptions provide an attestation for a local dynasty that is also documented in the Assyrian sources: Urhilina (Assyrian Irhulenu) and his son Uradami, whose name is rendered as Rudamu in an Akkadian-​language cuneiform letter excavated at Hamath, which was sent to that king from the Middle Euphrates region.224

220. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 84. Note that the contemporary ruler of Patin/​ Falastin, who is mentioned in the same passage, is also called Qalparuda. 221. MARAŞ 17; Denizhanoğulları et al. 2018: 59 announced a forthcoming publication of the inscription and offered a brief discussion of its content. 222. A bronze bowl inscribed in Hieroglyphic Luwian with the name of a Muwizi, excavated in a young woman’s burial at Locris in Greece, is a tantalizing piece of evidence that could suggest that Gurgum entertained connections with regions far to the west; see Hawkins 2000: 569. Muwizi is attested as the name of the father of Muwatalli, thus the ruler prior to the encounter of Gurgum with Assyria (MARAŞ 1: §§1−2; see Hawkins 2000: 262). However, there are no indications that this is the same person as the one mentioned on the bowl deposited at Locris. 223. Hawkins 2000: 251. 224. For the letter of Marduk-​apla-​uṣur of Anat/​Suhu to Rudamu of Hamath, see Parpola 1990; Younger 2016: 474–​475.

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It is interesting to note that the kings of Hamath did not participate in the northern coalition, given the close contacts that we have discussed earlier for Hamath and Falastin (section 46.5). Instead, Hamath was allied with the southern states that opposed the advances of the Assyrian Empire and rallied around the powerful kingdom of Damascus. As we learn later from the Zakkur Stele, inscribed in Aramaic language and script (see further below in this section), Hamath was connected territorially to Lu’aš, a region that can likely be identified with Luhuti, which Ashurnasirpal II had previously raided (as discussed before in this section). Shalmaneser entered the territory of Hamath just after passing through Aleppo (called Halman in his inscriptions) and thus reached this polity without passing through the territory of Patin/​Falastin, which indicates how damaging the encounter in 858 bc had been for that state, then apparently to Hamath’s advantage. However, despite claiming victory in his inscriptions, Shalmaneser had to return four times to the region, in 853, 848, 845, and 841 bc, before he finally overcame Damascus, whose king Hazael had come to the throne by regicide.225 Once Damascus was subdued, Shalmaneser received tribute also from the polities of the southern Levant, but it is unclear how long-​lasting this arrangement was, as the Assyrian king never campaigned that far southwest again. Urhilina’s name is found inscribed in hieroglyphic writing on shells found in the Assyrian capital of Kalhu (modern Nimrud), presumably taken there as part of his tribute.226 One of these was also found at Hamath itself. Urhilina’s son Uradami must have ascended to the throne of Hamath around 840 bc, and the hieroglyphic inscriptions composed during his reign indicate that he reasserted control over a number of “riverlands,” where various population groups seem to have been settled.227 These toponyms are difficult to identify, but Laka may correspond to Laqê on

225. Kgs 2:8; 2:15. For a discussion of the sources relating to Hazael’s usurpation, see, e.g., Younger 2016: 592–​606. 226. HAMA 9; see Hawkins 2000: 410–​411. 227. Hawkins 2000: 413.

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the Middle Euphrates, Mount Labrana to Mount Lebanon, and Hurpata to Arpad; the population groups mentioned include the Halabeans (i.e., the people of Aleppo), although it is unclear what this indicates about Aleppo’s political status at this time.228 This type of resettlement policy clearly imitated the behavior of an imperial power, specifically the Assyrian Empire. Uradami’s relationships with some regions on the Middle Euphrates including Anat, and his possible influence over others like Laqê, also attest to the continuing existence and importance of the long-​distance routes across the steppe that linked the Orontes and Euphrates valleys (section 46.2). Taking into account the apparently larger territory controlled by Hamath during the reign of Uradami, the silence regarding this kingdom in the contemporary inscriptions of Shalmaneser III is noteworthy. Does this imply that the Assyrian Empire was unable to prevent Hamath from expanding its influence? The difficulties experienced by Hamath’s northern neighbor Patin/​Falastin (see below in this section) suggest so, and if the identification of Laka with Laqê is correct, this would imply that the empire had temporarily lost control over this region, as it was otherwise a part of the Assyrian province of Raṣappa.229 The inscriptions of Shalmaneser III record his attack on Que (Plain Cilicia) in 839 bc, continued also in later years, but—​unsurprisingly—​ do not mention the claim of Kulamuwa of Sam’al in a monumental inscription in Phoenician language and alphabet discovered at Zincirlı that he had “hired” the Assyrian king to defeat his enemy, the king of the dn[n]ym, which is usually read as Danunim and associated with the region of Adana.230 Earlier in this section, we have already suggested that Ashurnasirpal II’s looting of Luhuti, at the apparent suggestion and certainly with the permission of the king of Patin, probably followed a similar arrangement, especially as it may have been reported as a victory

228. For discussion of the toponyms and some of the territorial implications, see Richelle 2019; Simon 2019a: 139–​141. 229. On the Assyrian province of Raṣappa, see Radner 2008: 55. 230. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 2; see Tropper 1993: 27–​46; Younger 2016: 404.

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in Suppiluliuma’s inscription from Tell Tayinat. In both these cases, the Assyrian Empire made good on the promise to protect their clients in return for the loyalty and tribute payments, and supporting his client kingdom of Sam’al moreover allowed Shalmaneser to extend Assyrian power for the first time into Que, previously attested as one of the allies opposing the empire on the battlefield in the coalition of 857 bc. At the time, some of the Cilician cities were still known by their ancient names, including Lusanda (Hittite Lawazantiya) and Kisuatni (Hittite Kizzuwatna).231 In an episode that is now thought to have taken place during the campaign of the year 839 bc,232 Shalmaneser confined Katê, the king of Que, to his royal city of Pahri (identified with Classical Misis in the center of the Cilician Plain); this city was still attested as an important granary center about eighty years later in the Phoenician-​ Luwian bilingual inscription from Karatepe (ancient Azatiwadaya).233 In the later campaign of 831 bc, Shalmaneser still encountered Katê of Que, but also received tribute from another local ruler, namely Tulli of Tanakun, and he appointed Tulli’s brother Kirrî as king of Tarzu (Classical Tarsus) in the western part of Plain Cilicia, another city already known from the Late Bronze Age sources.234 It appears therefore that Shalmaneser’s forces accessed the Cilician Plain very gradually, advancing into the western part of the region only years after having attacked the eastern part, and that several regional centers corresponded to cities attested already in the Late Bronze Age. In 836 bc, Shalmaneser attacked the region of Tabal, situated close to the old Hittite imperial heartland on the northern side of the Taurus mountain range, and the accounts in his inscriptions are the only textual information available to us about the area in this period. The inscription of the so-​called Black Obelisk mentions gifts to the Assyrian king from twenty-​four kings of Tabal and visits to Mount Tunni, the silver

231. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.10: iv 22−34. 232. Yamada 2000: 198–​205. 233. KARATEPE §7; see Hawkins 2000: 49. 234. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 132−141; see Yamada 2000: 220.

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mountain (probably Bolkar Dağ), and to Mount Muli, the alabaster mountain (likely another peak in the Taurus range):235 the inscription on Shalmaneser’s throne base from Kalhu (depicted in fi ­ gure 41.4 in ­chapter 41) states that this artifact was created using alabaster from Mount Tunni.236 The damaged inscription on Shalmaneser’s statue from Kalhu provides a more detailed chronicle of the campaign of 836 bc: the Assyrian forces proceeded from Hatti to Melid, where they crossed Mount Timur (either through the Gezbel Pass in the Tahtalı mountains, or through a pass into the Uzunyayla region via the Tohma valley) and then besieged the royal city of Artulu (possibly to be identified with Kululu) of Tuatti, king of Tabal,237 whose son Kikki submitted to the Assyrian ruler. After a stop at the silver mountain of Mount Tunni, Shalmaneser visited the land controlled by Puhame of Hupušna,238 including his royal city of Hupušna (Hupisna in the Hittite imperial period; possibly Tont Kalesi near Ereğli, corresponding to Classical Cybistra), and from there, the Assyrian troops moved to the alabaster mountain of Mount Muli.239 While Tabal’s importance for mining emerges very clearly from these sources, it seems to be politically fragmented, and this same impression is also given in later Assyrian texts. Once local inscriptions become available in the eighth century bc, they too document a high level of political fragmentation, with shifting alliances and warring factions. Further to the west, the mid-​ninth century bc witnessed much building work on

235. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 104−107; see Bagg 2011: 80. 236. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.62. 237. For dating the ÇIFTLIK inscription (Hawkins 2000: 448) to this Tuatti rather than the later ruler of the eighth century bc, mainly on sculptural grounds, see Aro 2003: 324. 238. The cuneiform text has Hubuškia (a polity in the Zagros region) instead of Hupušna in this passage, but this is certainly a mistake, as Puhame’s royal city is called Hupušna in the very same line; see Grayson 1996: A.0.102.16: l. 176′. 239. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.16: ll. 162′−172′. For a detailed discussion of this passage, see Adalı 2020. For Tont Kalesi, see Maner 2017a; and for the regional surveys, see Maner 2017b.

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the citadel of Gordion, especially the construction of many monumental buildings, which indicates that city’s rapid development into the center of the major state that would come to be known to the Greeks as Phrygia (­chapter 45 in this volume).240 Turning southward again, since the beginning of the ninth century bc, the city of Sam’al (modern Zincirlı), now certainly the center of the regional kingdom of the same name, had seen a massive development in its wealth, its royal ideology, and its urban infrastructure; the main building works, including the circular double fortification wall, were likely undertaken during the reign of Kulamuwa, although the dating of the fortifications and certain monumental buildings are hotly debated, and substantially complicated by the fact that earlier sculptural elements may have been brought there from elsewhere.241 The construction of the massive fortifications is often considered incompatible with this small kingdom’s subordinate position to the Assyrian Empire,242 but this imposing structure may well have been built only during the period that started with the end of Shalmaneser’s long reign and continued into the early years of Šamši-​Adad V (824–​811 bc), when an internal succession conflict largely curtailed the empire’s foreign ambitions.243 Sam’al’s relationship with the Assyrian Empire likely brought prosperity to the small kingdom by giving it access to the huge volume of the imperial trade. On the other hand, it was arguably Sam’al’s favorable position in the transregional trade network, as well as its growing wealth, that attracted the Assyrians in the first place—​in this, its fate paralleled that of other post-​ Hittite polities in northern Syria. Kulamuwa of Sam’al probably built “Building J,” his palace, toward the end of his reign (ca. 840–​815 bc), and the stone orthostat with

240. Voigt 2011; D’Alfonso 2019: 149; Kealhofer et al. 2019. 241. Younger 2016: 397; Herrmann and Schloen 2016: 267–​268. For arguments for an earlier dating, see Pucci 2008: 15–​80; Gilibert 2011: 59, 63. 242. Cf. Younger 2016: 397. 243. Designated as a period of “rebellion” (sīḫu) in the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle; see Millard 1994: 31.

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his already mentioned inscription was found there.244 The anthropomorphic statue that is usually thought to represent the dynastic ancestor Gabbar (as the kingdom of Sam’al was also known as Bit-​Gabbari) was placed inside Gate Q, which provided access to the central palatial complex (thought to be of somewhat earlier date).245 Some elements of Kulamuwa’s inscription, such as the ruler’s figure that introduces the text (figure 46.5), recall earlier Hittite models, but the use of the Phoenician language and alphabetic script, as well as the Assyrianized attire in which the king himself is depicted, otherwise indicate a departure from Hittite traditions.246 Local inscriptions are also available for the kingdom of Patin/​ Falastin, located just to the south of Sam’al and north of Hamath, namely at the capital city of Kunulua/​Kullania (modern Tell Tayinat), and these examples possibly date to the late ninth century bc, but perhaps a little later. One such text, by an unidentified author, seems to describe a local crisis, during which he managed to drive out someone or something from the land.247 According to the Assyrian inscription on the Black Obelisk, Shalmaneser III dispatched Dayyan-​Aššur, his commander-​ in-​chief (turtānu), with the Assyrian forces in 830 bc in order to take control of Kunulua after the Patineans had killed their lord Lubarna (the second ruler of Patin with this name, or really title, to appear in the Assyrian source) and appointed a new king, who we may assume was reluctant to honor the existing obligation to pay annual tribute to the Assyrian Empire.248 Once the Assyrian troops had arrived on the scene, the cowed Patineans handed the usurper over to Shalmaneser’s

244. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 24; see Tropper 1993: 27–​46; Younger 2016: 404. Note also the two population groups that Kulamuwa mentions for his realm: the bʿrrm and the mškbm, the latter having been “living like dogs” and in need of reconciliation; see Tropper 1993: 27–​46: text K1: ll. 9b–​13a. Precisely how these population groups were defined remains unclear; see Younger 2016: 392–​394. 245. Pucci 2008: 35. 246. Gilibert 2011: 82–​83. 247. TELL TAYINAT 2: Fragment 6; see Hawkins 2000: 370. 248. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 146−156.

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Figure 46.5. The so-​ called Kulamuwa Stele with its sixteen lines of Phoenician inscription, discovered in Sam’al (modern Zincirlı) in 1902 during the excavations led by Felix von Luschan and Robert Koldewey on behalf of the Deutsche Orient-​Gesellschaft. Vorderasiatisches Museum, Berlin (accession number VA S 6579). Photo by Hahaha, via Wikimedia Commons (https://​ comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index.php?curid=​3493​088), Creative Commons ShareAlike 1.0 License (CC SA 1.0).

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representative, who installed another ruler from an unidentified land in his stead as king of Patin and also erected a royal statue of Shalmaneser in a temple at Kunulua. While it is of course not certain whether we can link the Assyrian narrative and the account in the local hieroglyphic inscription, the temple in question is likely to lie underneath “Building XVI,” a sanctuary that was constructed after Kunulua’s integration into the Assyrian Empire as part of a newly established province of the same name in 738 bc.249 In the following half century, we see imperial intervention such as the one in Patin in 830 bc regularly repeated across the influence sphere of the Assyrian Empire. That we hear relatively little about the west may possibly indicate that all was well and the tribute payments flowed smoothly. But on the other hand, the lack of mention of interaction with this region might possibly be an expression of the difficulties the Assyrian Empire may have experienced in implementing its extraction strategies.250 A tendency toward greater independence seems almost certainly to be in evidence at Carchemish toward the end of the ninth century bc. Although the genealogy of the rulers of Carchemish is known from Sangara in the mid-​ninth century bc up to Kamani in the mid-​eighth century bc, the archaeological data currently available to us suggests that large-​scale building activity ceased at Carchemish around ca. 900 bc, and the city is not mentioned at all in the Assyrian records during that time. A king Astiru and his son and successor Kamani are attested, but it is not Astiru who claimed direct responsibility for the major building works that reorganized the city center during this time. Instead, responsibility for the new building program was claimed by a regent called Yariri (quite possibly a eunuch), who was charged with the guardianship of the king’s offspring. While Astiru is mentioned in an inscription found outside of Carchemish at Körkün and commissioned by one of his subjects, in what appears to be a dating formula for the

249. On the Assyrian province of Kunulua/​Kullania, see Radner 2008: 61. 250. Contrast Yamada 2000: 223.

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erection of a statue of the storm god of Aleppo,251 he otherwise may have been an absentee ruler, or dead. The regent Yariri stated in an inscription that “by traveling, my lord gathered every country’s son to me for language,” which seems to have resulted in Yariri knowing twelve languages and four scripts.252 Whether Astiru’s travels were mercantile or military in nature remains unclear. A military confrontation with the Assyrian Empire is definitely mentioned in a fragmentary inscription of Yariri that was found at the bottom of the Great Staircase at Carchemish: [Wh]en (?)‌the Assyrian king carried off the storm god of Aleppo, and he smote Assyria with a firebrand . . . Kubaba (either nominative or accusative) brought forth . . . [and Assyr]ia (?) she . . . ed away.253 It remains uncertain whether the confrontation was led by Yariri or by his master Astiru, although the latter seems more likely given that one of Astiru’s subjects erected the afore-​mentioned stele at Körkün outside of Carchemish specifically in order to honor the storm god of Aleppo. The inscription on the fragment from the bottom of the staircase apparently documents an Assyrian defeat, which according to the conventions of the Assyrian royal inscriptions (­chapter 40 in this volume) would not have been a subject suitable for that type of text, and therefore we lack additional information on these events. Most likely, Carchemish would only have been in a position to defy the Assyrian Empire as part of a larger coalition. The stele of Zakkur of Hamath, found at Tell Afis and written in Aramaic alphabetic script, mentions such a coalition around the end of the ninth century bc, as consisting of Aram-​Damascus (after

251. KÖRKÜN §4; see Hawkins 2000: 172. 252. KARKAMIŠ A15b: §§19−21; see Hawkins 2000: 131. 253. KARKAMIŠ A24a, 2+​3: §§6−7; see Hawkins 2000: 135. A recently re-​ discovered fragment (A24a, 6) of this inscription features the name of an Assyrian king, perhaps Adad-​nerari, although part of the name would need to be restored.

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the death of Hazael), Bit-​Agusi (i.e., Arpad), Que, Unqi (i.e., Patin), Gurgum, Sam’al, Melid, and two other polities whose names are lost, one of which may well have been Carchemish; these coalition forces laid siege to the city of Ḥadrak (Assyrian Hatarikka, either Tell Afis or else somewhere nearby).254 We have already discussed earlier in this section that in the last third of the ninth century bc, during the reign of Uradami, Hamath may have had contacts and possibly even exerted influence in the Middle Euphrates region, and when Zakkur calls himself a “man of Anat” in his stele, he refers precisely to that region. Previously, Hamath may have come under the influence of Hazael of Damascus, who had definitely raided Patin (Unqi), which was situated north of Hamath on the Orontes, according to the Aramaic inscriptions incised on two richly decorated bronze horse-​head ornaments taken as booty on that occasion (figure 46.6).255 Thus, Zakkur appears to have been an enemy of Damascus and a friend to the Assyrian Empire, and he moreover stood in the tradition of his predecessor Uradami when entertaining diplomatic contacts with the Middle Euphrates region. It is therefore feasible to assume that Zakkur ascended the throne of Hamath at about the time when Carchemish may have participated in a coalition that caused a defeat to the Assyrian Empire.256 The inscription on a royal stele of Adad-​nerari III of Assyria (810–​ 773 bc) refers to a period during the reign of his father Šamši-​Adad V (824–​811 bc) when the kings of the “broad” land of Hatti had become strong.257 However, by 805 bc, Adad-​nerari was in a position to claim to have defeated a coalition led by Attar-​šumki of Arpad and to have

254. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 202; see Younger 2016: 477–​478. 255. These horse-​head ornaments were excavated at two Greek sanctuaries: a frontlet at the Heraion of Samos and a blinker at the Apollo temple of Eretria on Euboea; for the pieces and the edition of their text, see Eph‘al and Naveh 1989; and for a discussion, see Younger 2016: 627–​631 (with previous literature). 256. Younger 2016: 532–​533. 257. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.6: ll. 14−15. “[Of Hatti]” is broken in the text, but the restoration is secure as Hatti was the subject of a previous clause.

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Figure 46.6. Bronze horse-​head ornaments with the booty inscription of Hazael of Damascus in Aramaic and alphabetic script: “That which (the storm god) Hadad gave our lord Hazael from ‘Umqi (i.e., Unqi/​Patin) in the year that our lord crossed the river (i.e., the Orontes).” A: Blinker from the Apollo temple of Eretria on Euboea (Eretria Museum, accession no. 273); B: Frontlet from the Heraion of Samos (National Archaeological Museum, Athens, accession no. 15070). Figure compiled by Karen Radner from Eph‘al and Naveh 1989: figs. 1–​2 and pls. 24–​25.

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marched as far as Damascus, imposing tribute on this kingdom. During that campaign, the Assyrian king set up the so-​called Pazarcık Stele as a monument commemorating a boundary agreement he had brokered between Kummuh, whose king had allegedly invited Adad-​nerari and his mother Sammu-​ramat to cross the Euphrates, and Gurgum.258 At that time, the ruler of Gurgum could proudly look back at a genealogy of kings and “governors” going back to the early tenth century bc.259 However, Adad-​nerari’s intervention in the west did not resolve the regional problems, as the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle reports for 804 bc that he marched against Hazazi, a city in Patin, and for 802 bc, an expedition to the Mediterranean Sea (as well as an epidemic).260 Assyria’s defeat at the hands of the storm god, as recorded in a the already mentioned inscription from Carchemish, may be connected to the campaign against Hazazi (identified with modern A’zaz), and perhaps this anti-​Assyrian coalition was the same one that opposed the Assyrian ally Zakkur of Hamath at around the same time.261 The ninth century bc thus ends with a significant resurgence of the northern Syrian polities in the region under study in this chapter, as they banded together against the Assyrian Empire to counter its sustained interference over the previous eighty years. While there were obvious benefits in accepting the sovereignty of the Assyrian king, this would have been far less attractive whenever the Assyrian imperial system was not fully functional, as was the case from the late reign of Shalmaneser III onward. North of the Taurus, we do not have any textual sources that would testify to the existence of such anti-​Assyrian alliances, and the region of Tabal especially continued to be split into numerous small polities. The material evidence suggests that by this time, these petty states had acquired a sufficiently high level of wealth and urbanization to have led to

258. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.3; Siddall 2013: 52–​54. 259. MARAŞ 1; see Hawkins 2000: 261–​263. 260. Millard 1994: 34, 57. 261. Younger 2016: 532.

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resource competition among them.262 Positioned on the western reaches of the Assyrian world, Tabal attracted the empire’s sustained attention in the eighth century bc and therefore came into greater historical focus. The luxury objects, such as ivories, that were excavated in the so-​called Destruction Level at the Phrygian center of Gordion (Level YHSS 6A, now dated to around 800 bc) are certainly an indicator of such wealth accumulation and moreover testify to Gordion’s close connections to northern Syria, despite the fact that it was situated on the western edge of the Syro-​Anatolian world discussed here.263 But that the fire event that consumed so much of Gordion’s citadel should be attributed to hostile intervention, and therefore perhaps directly to the increased resource competition on the Central Anatolian plateau, is currently thought to be unlikely.264

46.7.  The eighth century bc and beyond The first part of the eighth century bc sees the Assyrian Empire’s apparent inability to effectively enact control and wealth extraction in northern Syria continue. West of the Euphrates, its role changed to that of an occasional, and not always successful, mediator and enforcer in regional disputes. A second boundary monument commissioned by Adad-​nerari III (810–​773 bc) and his commander-​in-​chief Šamši-​ilu, the so-​called Antakya Stele, demarcated the border between the kingdoms of Arpad/​ Bit-​Agusi, still ruled by Attar-​šumki, and Hamath, still led by Zakkur.265 The stele was reportedly found in 1968 by a farmer digging a well near the Orontes, somewhere between Antakya and the Mediterranean coast, and

262. D’Alfonso et al. 2016: 602; D’Alfonso 2019. 263. For the dating, see DeVries et al. 2003; on Gordion’s wealth, see Voigt 2013: 197. See also ­chapter 45 in this volume. 264. Voigt 2012; 2013: 194–​196, 199–​201; Rose 2016: 9. 265. For the Antakya Stele, see Grayson 1996: A.0.104.2; Siddall 2013: 55–​56. On the find spot, see Hawkins 2016a: 189–​190 (appendix).

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if accepted, this find location might suggest that Patin/​Unqi had become subordinate to Arpad at this point,266 at least in view of the Assyrian Empire.267 However, whether the supposed findspot in fact corresponds to the toponym Nahlasi, specified in the Antakya Stele as belonging to Arpad and as the site of the boundary established between Arpad and Hamath, is debated, as many have followed J. D. Hawkins in his assessment that the stele was moved from its original context at some point.268 Whatever the case may be, the salient fact remains that the Assyrian Empire clearly needed to appease the kingdom of Arpad, even if this conflicted directly with the interests of its staunch ally Zakkur of Hamath. In turn, this suggests that Attar-​šumki of Arpad dominated the anti-​Assyrian coalition, possibly to the extent that his participation was required to negotiate the border of Patin/​Unqi. Indeed, when the Assyrian forces returned in force to the west in the mid-​eighth century bc, Arpad was among the first targets attacked in 754 bc, following the attack on Hatarikka/​Ḥadrak (likely Tell Afis, or a site nearby) in the northern part of the kingdom of Hamath in 755 bc.269 If one accepts the recent interpretation of its badly preserved five-​ line Aramaic inscription as referring to “Bar-​Hadad, son of Attar-​šumki,” rather than “Bar-​Hadad, son of ‘Ezer, the Damascene,” the so-​called Melqart Stele (so designated after the god mentioned in the dedication and depicted on the monument),270 which was found just outside of Aleppo, would indicate that this city had become part of the kingdom of

266. Weippert 1992, who dates the monument to 796 bc as he connected it to the events described in the Zakkur Stele. Cf. Younger 2016: 514, stating that Nahlasi would have originally belonged to Patin. 267. Note Osborne 2013: 779, who uses this as a key example when discussing how ancient conceptions of political space may have differed from assumptions based on the conventions of modern states. 268. Hawkins 1995b: 95–​96; 2016: 189–​190; followed by, e.g., Siddall 2013: 69; Radner and Vacek 2020: 120–​122 (with further literature). 269. Millard 1994: 59. 270. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 201.

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Arpad by the time of Attar-​šumki’s son and successor.271 Certainly when Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc) took the Assyrian throne, and possibly already before, areas previously held by Patin, such as the city of Hazazi (modern A’zaz), had fallen to Arpad. The Aramaic inscriptions of the three basalt monuments known as the Sefire Steles, so called after the place of their discovery at Al-​Safirah near Aleppo, are testament to the kingdom of Arpad’s expansionist strategy.272 The texts document the treaty of Mati‘-​’el, the son of Attar-​šumki II, with a certain Bar-​Ga’yah of the land or people of ktk, and there is no consensus who this ruler is and where his otherwise unattested polity was located; without new evidence, this question is unlikely to ever be satisfactorily resolved.273 Mati‘-​’el of Arpad referred to himself representing in this agreement “all Aram” (’rm klh),274 and this likely connotes an ideological legacy owed to the kingdom of Aram-​Damascus. Whoever Bar-​Ga’yah of ktk may have been, the alliance between him and the king of Arpad possibly was forged in response to the already mentioned Assyrian campaigns of 755 and 754 bc, about which we know nothing more than their destinations, as noted in the Assyrian Eponym Chronicles.275 There is also a treaty preserved between Mati‘-​’el of Arpad and Aššur-​nerari V of Assyria (754–​745 bc),276 the sheer existence of which may indicate that these expeditions were not overly successful, especially given the evidence for Assyria’s defeat at the hands of Sarduri II of Urartu at this time (­chapter 44 in this volume). Even once Tiglath-​ pileser III started to forcefully reassert Assyrian interests in the west, it took him three campaigns to completely subjugate Arpad, which was

271. As convincingly argued by Younger 2016: 533–​535. 272. Donner and Röllig 2002: nos. 222–​224. 273. For a recent discussion, with references to the seventeen different proposals for the identification of Bar-​Ga’yah and his polity, see Younger 2016: 505–​508, 536–​545. 274. Younger 2016: 508. 275. Millard 1994: 42. 276. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 2.

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annexed by 740 bc and its territory split into two Assyrian provinces (Arpad and Tu’ammu).277 Arpad/​Bit-​Agusi was not the only post-​Hittite state to expand territorially during the early eighth century bc, when the region temporarily was largely free from the Assyrian Empire’s interference. The same is true of Carchemish, where Kamani, whose rule had begun under the guardianship of his regent Yariri, was able to extend the territory of his kingdom into the Queiq valley, by purchasing a settlement that he then named after himself, as documented by a stele set up at Cekke (situated 46 km north of Aleppo and 20 km northeast of Tell Rifa’at) by a servant of Sastura, his vizier (literally “first servant”), whose inscription details the transaction, describes the borders, and outlines the various obligations of representatives from nearby settlements.278 The territorial gain was not large, given that the border of the land of Carchemish with Patin at the time of Ashurnasirpal II seems to have been situated only some 20 km northwest of Cekke (section 46.6). In 2015, a head was found during the excavations at Carchemish that matches the body of a statue of the goddess Kubaba, which had been brought to the British Museum in 1880. With the two pieces joined, the inscription on its back is now complete, and we can trace Kamani’s genealogy all the way back to the ninth century bc.279 In the same inscription, Kamani is called “country-​lord of Carchemish and Malizi,” with the latter probably referring to the region of Melid (modern Malatya).280 If this hypothesis were correct, this would imply that Carchemish had also expanded its territory northward. Perhaps Kamani’s name is connected to the toponym Kammanu as attested later for a region in the north of Elbistan in the inscriptions of Sargon II (721–​705 bc; see below in this section), which thus could mark the northern reaches of his claimed area

277. Radner 2008: 58 (Arpad) and 63 (Tu’ammu). 278. CEKKE 2; see Hawkins 2000: 145–​ 146 (translation outdated); Payne 2012: 76–​81; Brown and Smith 2016; Hawkins and Weeden 2016: 15. 279. Marchetti and Peker 2018. 280. CEKKE 2: §6a; see Payne 2012: 80.

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of dominion. This is difficult to credit given the location of Kummuh and Gurgum between Carchemish and Elbistan. A fragmentary inscription on the broken base of a colossal statue from Carchemish’s South Gate refers to a “son of Astiru (?),” presumably Kamani, as the sign forms used look very much like those on Kamani’s other monuments.281 Next in line was probably Astiru II, son of Kamani, although the evidence for this ruler is uncertain: in the inscription of a dedicatory stele, now kept in the Adana Archaeology Museum, an individual called Atika describes himself as the “beloved servant of Astiru, [country]-​lord? of Carchemish,” and it is likely that this fragmentary text starts with the identification of Astiru II as the son of K[ama]ni.282 Therefore, we may reconstruct the second dynasty of country-​lords of Carchemish as Astiru(wa)–​Kamani–​Astiru, following the tradition of papponymy, i.e., the grandson being named after the grandfather, that is also attested for other regional dynasties. By the time that the Assyrian Empire was in a position to force Carchemish to pay tribute again, as it did according to the extant lists in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III in the years 739/​738 bc, and probably also 732 bc,283 its ruler was called Pisiri,284 which is the Assyrian rendering of the Hittite name Piyassili. While there are no local inscriptions from this time that mention this name, there is a fragmentary inscription from the Gatehouse on the Great Staircase of a “son of Sastura” ruling Carchemish and Malizi,285 and this person could well correspond to

281. KARKAMIŠ A13a-​c ; see Hawkins 2000: 167–​169. 282. Akdoğan and Hawkins 2010, with the interpretation that Atika was a son of Kamani. However, J.D. Hawkins (personal communication, April 2021) has since changed his mind about the inscription’s beginning. 283. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 11: l. 9′; no. 14: l. 11; no. 27: l. 4 (restored); no. 32: l. 3; no. 35: iii 16. 284. For attestations, see Fuchs 2002: 997. 285. KARKAMIŠ A21 (b+​a) +​ A20b; see Hawkins 2000: 79, 157–​162; Aro 2003: 316. The relief figures are executed in a strongly Assyrianizing style, and the name Astiru is attached to a fragment that does not join the rest of the object for certain. The script is late, but uses archaizing signs.

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Pisiri/​Piyassili. If his father Sastura was the same person as the vizier of Kamani in the afore-​mentioned inscription from Cekke, this might indicate that governing power could pass from the dynast to his advisor in a way that recalls the coexistence of the Great Kings and country-​lords in the earlier phase of Carchemish’s history. Pisiri was still king of Carchemish when it was annexed as an Assyrian province by Sargon II (721–​704 bc) in 717 bc.286 The Assyrian king built a palace there, from which the accompanying foundation inscription has survived,287 while Pisiri was removed to the Assyrian heartland, having been accused of conspiring with Mita of Muški (i.e., Midas of Phrygia; see ­chapter 45 in this volume)—​an indication of the broad international contacts maintained by the rulers of the north Syrian polities, whose world sometimes seems so parochial. From the time that Sargon claimed the treasury of Carchemish, with its 2,100 talents of silver, the preferred monetary standard of the Assyrian Empire was switched from copper to silver, and specifically to silver according to the “mina of Carchemish,” as the plentiful documentation in the Assyrian legal contracts demonstrates;288 this attests to the importance that Carchemish had in transregional trade.289 Even after its integration into the Assyrian Empire, Carchemish continued to be an important center, and toward the late seventh century bc, the city witnessed some key events that led to the demise of that state, including the final rout of the empire’s Egyptian allies by the Babylonian forces in 605 bc.290 The kingdom of Kummuh was an early and doggedly loyal client state of the Assyrian Empire, but nevertheless carefully cultivated its post-​Hittite 286. Radner 2008: 58. 287. Marchesi 2019; Frame 2021: no. 109. 288. Müller 1997: 120; Radner 1999: 131. 289. Hawkins and Weeden 2016: 16. 290. Glassner 2004: 226–​227: Babylonian Chronicle 23. In 596 bc, Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon (604–​562 bc) campaigned as far as “Carchemish in Hatti”; see Glassner 2004: 227–​228: Babylonian Chronicle 24. Note also 2 Chron 33:20 (cf. 2 Kgs 23:29); Jer 46:2. See ­chapters 50 and 51 in volume 5.

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identity, perhaps also in order to limit conflicts with its neighbors. Assyrian influence can be observed, e.g., in the sculpture style and in the use of the term sariyasi, a loan word derived from Assyrian ša rēši, “body servant > eunuch” (a key category of courtier and state official; see c­ hapter 40 in this volume), instead of the Luwian term wasinasi, “body servant.”291 The fact that bird augurs from Kummuh are prominently attested at the Assyrian imperial court of Kalhu from the last years of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc) until the reign of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 bc), where they publicly performed rituals on behalf of the Assyrian crown,292 makes it clear that there was ample opportunity for members of the Kummuhean elite to learn about Assyrian practices in the very heart of the empire. Nevertheless, the rulers of Kummuh typically had traditional Hittite royal names, and especially in the late ninth and early eighth centuries bc, the practice of commissioning monuments with hieroglyphic inscriptions blossomed. As discussed previously (sections 46.5–​46.6), recent discoveries have made it possible to trace the genealogical sequence of the rulers of Gurgum from at least the early tenth century until the mid-​ eighth century bc, which demonstrates an extraordinary continuity of this royal house, attested over a longer period than even the dynasty of Carchemish.293 From the area of Kahramanmaraş originate also various non-​royal funerary and dedicatory inscriptions that date to the ninth and eighth centuries bc.294 The best-​attested members of the ruling house of Kummuh are Suppiluliuma, his wife Panamuwati, and their son Hattusili.295 This

291. Hawkins 2002. 292. As discussed by Radner 2009: 231–​233. 293. MARAŞ 16 and MARAŞ 17; see Denizhanoğulları et al. 2018. 294. Hawkins 2000: 261–​281. 295. For BOYBEYPINARI (mentioning Suppiluliuma, Panamuwati, and Hattusili), see Hawkins 2000: 336–​337. For MALPINAR (mentioning Hattusili), an inscription on the Göksü River, see Hawkins 2000: 340–​342. For ANCOZ 1-​ 6 (mentioning Suppiluliuma and Hattusili), see Hawkins 2000: 345–​351. One inscription mentions “Suppiluliuma son of Hattusili”; see Poetto 2010.

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Suppiluliuma can be identified with Ušpilulume of Kummuh, as mentioned in the two inscriptions that were engraved during the reign of Adad-​nerari III in 805 bc and of Shalmaneser IV in 776 bc on a boundary monument known today as the Pazarcık Stele (or Kızkapanlı Stele).296 According to these texts, it was Suppiluliuma who invited Adad-​nerari and his mother Sammu-​ramat “to cross the Euphrates” in order to help him settle a border dispute with his neighbor Qalparuda/​Halparuntiya II of Gurgum, which the Assyrian king obligingly did after defeating the forces of Attar-​šumki of Arpad and his allies; this boundary was later confirmed by the powerful commander-​in-​chief (turtānu) Šamši-​ilu on behalf of his royal master Shalmaneser IV, on the way back to Assyria after a victorious campaign against Damascus. Suppiluliuma’s son and successor, Hattusili, must have reigned in Kummuh until about 750 bc, when Urartian sources mention a different ruling house for Kummuh. Sarduri II of Urartu, having defeated the Assyrian Empire in 754 bc (­chapter 44 in this volume), invaded and extracted tribute from Kummuh at this time (see below in this section),297 and the kingdom is attested as part of an anti-​Assyrian alliance led by Arpad and Urartu in 743 bc whose armies were smashed by Tiglath-​pileser III of Assyria in a battle taking place “between Kištan and Halpi, districts of the land of Kummuh.”298 While these locations have not been identified, the pitched battle clearly took place in the territory of Kummuh, which for once apparently was fighting on the same side as its former archenemy and neighbor Gurgum. Despite the rich local sources available to us, Tarhulara of Gurgum, as mentioned in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III, who claims to have conquered “100 cities” belonging to this ruler, is nowhere attested in the hieroglyphic texts, unless he is hiding behind one of the other names

296. Grayson 1996: A0.104.3: ll. 7, 19; A.0.105.1: ll. 12, 13. See also ­chapter 38 in this volume. 297. Salvini 2008: 425: A9-​3: iii 40′-​57′ (Hazine Kapısı). 298. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: i 25′−26′. Note that Halpa is mentioned as a royal city of Kuštašpi, king of Qumaha (i.e., Kummuh), by Sarduri II; see Salvini 2008: 425: A9-​3: iii 50′.

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attested, e.g., Larama III or (less likely) La or Lara; but this cannot be verified.299 Gurgum remained independent and under Tarhulara’s rule until 711 bc, when Sargon II invaded the county and annexed it as a province, now called Marqasu after the capital city (modern Kahramanmaraş).300 According to the Assyrian king’s inscriptions, this attack was prompted by the assassination of Tarhulara, and the subsequent usurpation of his son Mutallu/​Muwatalli who had objected to his father’s pro-​Assyrian politics;301 the empire’s invasion put an end to any attempt to align Gurgum with Urartu or Mita of Muški. From Marqasu originates a private archive of forty-​four Neo-​Assyrian and Aramaic legal texts that covers almost the entire period of the city’s Assyrian occupation. The oldest text dates to the year 703 bc and the latest text to a year eponym serving late in the reign of Sîn-​šarru-​iškun (ca. 626–​612 bc), shortly before the collapse of the Assyrian Empire.302 The close relations between the Assyrian Empire and Kummuh continued into the reign of Sargon II. After Sargon had integrated as Assyrian provinces Kummuh’s neighbors Carchemish in 717 bc and Gurgum in 711 bc, the kingdom was the only remaining western buffer state between Assyria and Urartu. Sargon put so much faith in his ally Mutallu/​Muwatalli of Kummuh that he even added the territories of the northern neighbor kingdom of Melid to his realm in 712 bc (see further below in this section). However, relations quickly soured when Muwatalli “put his trust in Argišti (II) king of Urartu” and withheld tribute in 709 bc. Sargon annexed Kummuh in 708 bc and turned it into an Assyrian province, but with the special status of a border march under the control of one of the highest magnates, in this case the Commander-​in-​chief

299. For Larama III in MARAŞ 16, see Denizhanoğulları et al. 2018. For La (son of ) Lara in the KÜRTÜL inscription, see Hawkins 2000: 271–​272. 300. Radner 2008: 49 (Marqasu). 301. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 267–​273; no. 3: ll. 1′–​6′; no. 7: ll. 83–​89; differently in no. 74: v. 41–​76, where Muwatalli is not mentioned and Tarhulara is blamed for Gurgum’s treachery 302. Günbattı et al. 2020.

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of the Left (turtānu šumēlu).303 While Muwatalli managed to flee to an unknown destination (most likely Urartu, although according to Sargon “his whereabouts have never been discovered”), members of his family and royal court were captured and taken as hostages to Kalhu.304 Three decades earlier, also the kingdom of Melid, ruled by King Sulumal (whose name may or may not be identical with that of a much earlier ruler attested in the Malatya region, PUGNUS-​mili; see section 46.3), was attested in 743 bc as a member of the anti-​Assyrian coalition against Tiglath-​pileser III.305 Recent excavations at Arslantepe show that in the eighth century bc, Melid was well integrated into the trans­ regional luxury trade networks.306 During that time, the Lion Gate received its final form, but with the incorporation of old stone blocks that name PUGNUS-​mili, “the king’s seed.”307 This conscious reuse of ancient sculpture and also titulary could be interpreted as the attempt to reassert local heritage and identity in the face of external threat. It was some time before the confrontation with Tiglath-​pileser III that Melid had become a client state of Urartu, after its kings Argišti I and Sarduri II had attacked the kingdom, then under the rule of Hilaruada, son of Šahu, who eventually accepted the overlordship of Urartu.308 Runtiya, country-​lord of Malizi, son of the “Hero” Sahwi, who is attested in an inscription from Șirzi,309 may have been 303. Radner 2008: 48–​49. 304. Frame 2021: no. 2: ll. 441–​454; no. 7: ll. 112–​117; no. 84: ll. 21′–​27′. 305. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 14: l. 12; no. 32: l. 5; no. 35: i 24′, iii 9; no. 36: l. 3′; no. 47: obv. 45, rev. 8′; no. 54: l. 10. 306. Manuelli and Pittman 2018. 307. Manuelli 2019: 237 connects this to the resurgence of Carchemish’s influence over Melid and suggests that this was done by Halpasulupi, the “king’s seed,” the author of the inscription MALATYA 4 (Hawkins 2000: 321), which was found in situ on a portal lion in the gate. This would imply that this Halpasulupi is to be distinguished from the author of MALATYA 1 (Hawkins 2000: 319). 308. Argišti I: Salvini 2008: 336: A8-​3 ii 6; Sarduri II: Salvini 2008: 432: A9-​4. See ­chapter 44 in this volume. 309. ŞIRZI; see Hawkins 2000: 322–​323; with the new reading of the name suggested by Dillo 2013.

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Hilaruada’s brother. After Tiglath-​pileser had brought Melid decisively back into the Assyrian Empire’s fold, Sargon II demonstrated his trust in the kingdom when he assigned the Kammanu territory to Tarhunazi of Melid, after disposing of the local ruler Gunzinanu; however, Tarhunazi conspired with Mita of Muški, causing the Assyrian invasion of 711 bc.310 Tarhunazi retreated to the city of Til-​Garimmu (most likely situated somewhere in the Elbistan Plain),311 where the Assyrian king eventually captured him. Sargon then fortified ten Kammanean towns in order to serve as border fortresses against Urartu and against the land of the Muški. He annexed Kammanu, assigning it to one of his governors (either of Carchemish, established as a province in 717 bc, or of Marqasu, established in 711 bc)312 while handing over “the royal city of Melid as well as its district” to Muwatalli/​Mutallu of Kummuh. The region was soon after incorporated into the Assyrian Empire when, as already mentioned, the hitherto loyal ally Kummuh turned traitor; it was conquered and turned into the border march of the Commander-​ in-​chief of the Left in 708 bc. Archaeological excavations at Arslantepe, Malatya’s settlement mound, have brought to light the Assyrian palace built there, including several cylinders with a foundation inscription deposited by Sargon II,313 and this building is thought to have been continually occupied until around 650 bc.314 However, by 675 bc, during the rule of Esarhaddon of Assyria (680–​669 bc), Melid had clearly slipped out of Assyrian control as a chronicle text and various oracle queries, used to consult the gods on important matters of state, mention an independent ruler of Melid called Mugallu, who was considered dangerous and utterly untrustworthy; as he is frequently mentioned as acting in concert with Iskallû

310. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 204−221; no. 2: ll. 236−259; no. 7: ll. 78−83; see Fuchs 1994: 324. 311. Fales 2016: 43. 312. Radner 2008: 58 (Carchemish), 61 (Marqasu). 313. Frame 2021: nos. 111–​114. 314. Manuelli 2020: 114.

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of Tabal, he could be identical with the Mugallu who later ruled Tabal during the reign of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc).315 Another longtime ally of the Assyrian Empire was the kingdom of Sam’al. Despite occasionally supporting anti-​Assyrian coalitions, likely under the pressure from nearby Arpad, the royal house of Sam’al tended to favor collaboration with Assyria ever since the reign of Kulamuwa in the mid-​ninth century bc (section 46.6). Panamuwa of Sam’al, who is mentioned as Panammû by Tiglath-​pileser as paying tribute in 738 bc, was the latter of two kings of this name. Panamuwa I left his alphabetic inscription on the colossal statue of the storm god Hadad at the royal cemetery outside of Gerçin,316 while Panamuwa II is mentioned in another alphabetic inscription on a monument commissioned by his son, Bar-​Rakib.317 This text details how the Assyrians restored him to power in Sam’al after his birthright had been taken from him, and how he runs at Tiglath-​Pileser’s chariot wheel, likely expressing his subservience to the Assyrian king whom he calls “lord of the four quarters of the earth.” It is likely that Tiglath-​pileser returned Panamuwa to the throne of Sam’al in the course of his campaign against Arpad. Recent developments in the dating of the hieroglyphic and alphabetic inscriptions of the region of Que (Plain Cilicia) indicate that the long Phoenician-​Luwian bilingual text commissioned by a certain Azatiwada, inscribed on the two monumental gateways to his hilltop fortress at Karatepe (named Azatiwadaya after himself ),318 just west of the Amanus mountain range, likely dates to earlier in the eighth century bc than previously assumed.319 In particular, it has been proposed that this inscription

315. Oracle queries: Starr 1990: LVII, nos. 1–​12; chronicle: Glassner 2004: 208–​ 209: Chronicle 18: l. 18; see also Fuchs 2001b: 761–​762; Simon 2021: 515. 316. Tropper 1993: 54–​97 (Text H). 317. Tropper 1993: 98–​131 (Text P). 318. KARATEPE 1; see Çambel 1989. 319. Hawkins 2000: 44–​45 dated it to the early seventh century bc as he identified the inscription’s author Azatiwada/​-​ra with Sandawarri (in Assyrian, Sanduarri), a contemporary of Esarhaddon of Assyria (681–​669 bc). This seems improbable, as Sandawarri is a perfectly good Luwian name, as is

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should be dated earlier than the bilingual inscription of Çineköy, which is incised on a statue depicting the storm god on a bull-​drawn chariot, due to the fact that the latter displays Assyrian influence and indeed celebrates the partnership of Assyria with the land of Hiyawa (Que), whereas the Karatepe bilingual text and the sculptures associated with it seem to date both in style and content to a time before the Assyrian Empire exercised power over the region.320 There is considerable disagreement about whether the overlord mentioned in the Karatepe bilingual text (Awariku) and in the statue from Çineköy (Warika) are one and the same person, and even more uncertainty how individuals with similar sounding names (‘wrk, wryk), attested in alphabetic inscriptions from various sites from east of the Amanus range to Alanya, relate to this person(s).321 Much like the regent Yariri at Carchemish (section 46.6), Azatiwada may have been looking after a young king, in this case Awariku, who was later mentioned as Urikki in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III of Assyria for the years 738 and 732 bc.322 According to the alphabetic İncirli inscription, found in 1993 on the border of Gurgum and Kummuh near Pazarcık, it seems that this king was given a frontier region in return for his help against Mati‘-​’el of Arpad and his anti-​Assyrian coalition forces.323 If the same king is responsible also for the inscription from

Azatiwada. For a late dating of the text, see Simon 2014; and for an earlier one, see Novák 2021. 320. Novák 2021. However, for Neo-​Assyrian elements in the sculptures at Karatepe, see Aro 2014. 321. HASSANBEYLI; CEBELİREİS DAĞI; İNCIRLİ; see Kaufman 2007. For the view that multiple different kings over at least a century were authors of these inscriptions, see Simon 2014; 2018b; and for the view that one king, or perhaps two rulers active over a shorter period, were their authors, see Novák 2021. 322. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 11: l. 8′; no. 14: l. 11; no. 27: l. 4; no. 32: 3; no. 35: iii 8. 323. İNCIRLİ; see Kaufman 2007. The inscription is very worn, but it appears clear that this is a king of the house of Mopsos (Phoenician mpš, Hieroglyphic Luwian Mukasa), which is how the ruling dynasty of Hiyawa/​Que is referenced in the bilingual inscriptions from Karatepe and Çineköy.

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Cebelireis Dağı near Alanya, then this indicates a massive expansion of the territory controlled by Que, likely with Assyrian support. Posthumously, Urikki is also mentioned in a letter from Sargon II (722–​705 bc) to his governor in Que, detailing how Urikki had sent envoys to Urartu, the Assyrian archenemy of that period (therefore committing an act of treason), but that these had been intercepted by Mita of Muški, who much later handed them over to the Assyrians as a grand gesture of reconciliation.324 Urikki was presumably dead by that time, or else Sargon would have discussed the treacherous ally’s punishment.325 By the time the letter was written, Que had long been annexed as an Assyrian province, very probably during the reign of Shalmaneser V (727–​722 bc).326 We will conclude our survey by turning our attention to Tabal. The first mention of this region in the eighth century bc concerns the submission of the “Land of Tuate” (i.e., Tuwati) to Argišti I of Urartu and his payment of tribute around 780 bc.327 Either this Tuwati or a later ruler of this name is attested in local inscriptions as Great King Tuwati, father of Great King Wasusarma.328 Wasusarma (or Wassusarruma) is generally identified with Uassurme the Tabalian, as mentioned in tribute lists of the inscriptions of Tiglath-​ pileser III for the years 738 and 732 bc.329 This ruler fell foul of the Assyrian king in 729 bc because he “imitated the deeds of Assyria.”330 This likely refers to the fact that he started calling himself Great King and took hostages as slaves, as described in the local inscription from

324. Luukko 2012: no. 152. 325. Andreas Fuchs apud Novák 2021: 64. 326. Radner 2008: 62. 327. Salvini 2008: 335–​336: A8-​3: ii 16 (Argišti’s annals). 328. TOPADA §1; see Hawkins 2000: 452; D’Alfonso 2019: 135. 329. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 15: l. 1; no. 27: l. 5; no. 32: l. 6; no. 35: iii 10; no. 47: rev. 9; 14. Note that Simon 2020a argues that the deviation between the names Wasusarma and Uassurme is too great to allow identification. 330. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: rev. 14′−15′.

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Topada (figure 46.7),331 which contains one of the few detailed narratives describing specific events in the extant Anatolian hieroglyphic corpus—​and is therefore difficult to understand. According to this text, Wasusarma faced a coalition of eight kings led by “the Parzutean,” while he himself counted only three kings on his side: Warpalawa and Kiyakki, who likely correspond to local rulers attested also in the Assyrian sources;332 and a third ruler named Ruwata may also be known from local inscriptions (although the identification with the present individual is far from certain).333 The recently discovered two-​line inscription at Türkmen-​Karahöyük in the Konya Plain, dated to the eighth century bc, has a number of odd elements in common with Wasusarma’s Topada inscription, including its writing style and strangely shaped sign forms.334 The text refers to a victory by a Great King Hartapu against thirteen kings and the construction, or perhaps capture, of ten fortresses, which is similar in content to the Topada inscription. Perhaps this Hartapu is the “Parzutean” mentioned by Wasusarma as his enemy, describing in this inscription his version of the same conflict, in which naturally he, rather than Wasusarma, emerged victorious. Hartapu is also attested in a rock relief that depicts him seated on a high-​backed chair on the Kızıldağ, as well as in another victory inscription at Burunkaya,335 located just across the Melendiz River from Topada. It thus seems very likely that the Melendiz must be the river mentioned in the Topada inscription, which Wasusarma’s cavalry had to cross

331. TOPADA §§15, 25; see Hawkins 2000: 453; Weeden 2010. Note also D’Alfonso 2019: 25 for a much earlier dating of this inscription. 332. For Warpalawa, see Parpola 1987: no. 1 =​Luukko 2012: no. 152 and the discussion further below in this section. For Kiyakki, see Frame 2021: no. 1: l. 68; no. 4: l. 7; 535 (for full references). 333. A Ruwata is attested in TOPADA §4 (Hawkins 2000: 453), with his title represented by a sign consisting of a foot on two wheels with a ladder or steps over it, while a Ruwa is attested in KULULU 1 and 4 (Hawkins 2000: 443, 445). 334. TÜRKMENKARAHÖYÜK 1; see Goedegebuure et al. 2020. 335. The dating of the rock reliefs and inscriptions related to Hartapu are controversial; see Osborne 2021: 136–​142; Hawkins and Weeden 2021.

Figure 46.7.  The rock inscription of Wasusarma of Tabal from Topada. Photo by Takayuki Oshima.

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in order to meet the Parzutean and his allies in battle. Both the texts of Wasusarma and Hartapu make use of traditional Hittite names and titles, making it very clear that this seemingly peripheral area on the western edge of the post-​Hittite world was fully attuned to the imperial heritage that culturally united the polities under study in this chapter. Wasusarma and, before him, his father Tuwati may well have had their capital city at Kululu, on the route to Melid, where an archaeological survey recovered the fragments of a smashed-​up colossal statue dressed in Assyrian-​style clothes, as well as a number of inscriptions in Anatolian hieroglyphic script dated to the eighth century bc.336 However, from a geopolitical point of view, Kululu seems to be located too far in the northeast of Cappadocia to properly serve as the center of Tabal, so we should be prepared to consider other locations for Wasusarma’s capital, even though the remains of the colossal statue make identification with Kululu very tempting. Having “acted as if he were the equal of Assyria,” Wasusarma was removed to the Assyrian heartland in 729 bc and was replaced as ruler of Tabal with Hullî, “the son of a nobody,” by Tiglath-​pileser III.337 Sargon II later reinstated Hullî, stating in one of his inscriptions: [My princely predecessor] had become angry with Hullî, [king of Bit-​Purutaš (i.e., Tabal)], and [. . . had commanded the dissolut]ion of his land. [He brought him (i.e., Hullî), together with his family, to] Assyria [and had considered (them there) as if (they were) membe]rs of the lower class. I restored [Hullî to his position].338 The princely predecessor is likely Shalmaneser V (726–​722 bc), about whose brief years on the Assyrian throne very little is known, but who

336. Özgüç 1971: 45–​58, figs. 144–​159 (Turkish); 102–​109 (English), pls. xxxv–​xliv; Hawkins 2000: 433 with n. 84; Aro 2003: 331. 337. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: rev. 14′–​15′; no. 49: rev. 27–​28. 338. Frame 2021: no. 82: vi 6‴–​11‴.

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turned nearby Que (Plain Cilicia) into an Assyrian province,339 thus creating ample opportunities for conflict of interest. Sargon was so eager to reinstate the former hostage Hullî and his line to his previous position in Tabal that he married his daughter Ahat-​abiša to Hullî’s son and successor Ambaris and as a dowry gave her, and her husband, the territory of Hilakku (corresponding broadly to Rough Cilicia).340 However, in 713 bc, Sargon accused Ambaris of conspiring with Mita of Muški and removed him from his throne, just as he had recently deposed Pisiri of Carchemish in 717 bc for the same offense. But with Tabal, the reach of the Assyrian Empire seems to have met the limits of its effectiveness. Despite the empire’s attempts to raise one ruler as the sole king of Tabal, and the cocky claim of the title “Great King” in some in the local inscriptions, the region still consisted of a patchwork of polities, ruled by some twenty eternally squabbling and maneuvering kings, just like when Shalmaneser III was first campaigning there in the ninth century bc (section 46.6). As a result of the removal of Ambaris,341 Sargon annexed Tabal as an Assyrian province in 713 bc, although it is questionable how effective the direct control exercised in Tabal ever was, especially as the territory was lost again by 711 bc.342 The draft of a royal letter, in which Sargon joyously reacts to the news of his governor of Que that Mita of Muški had suggested a peace treaty, also mentions Warpalawa (Assyrian Urpala’a),343 the erstwhile ally of

339. Radner 2008: 62. 340. Frame 2021: no. 1: ll. 195−203; no. 2: ll. 226−235; no. 7: ll. 29−32; for discussions, see Fuchs 1994: 123–​124, 323; Weeden 2017; Adalı 2020. 341. The letter of the then crown prince Sennacherib to his father Sargon II that mentions a letter from the major-​domo of Sargon’s daughter Ahat-​abiša in Tabal might date to around this time; see Parpola 1987: no. 31: ll. 25–​29; also Frame 2021: 23. The dating of the letter depends on the dating of the Cimmerian victory against Urartu mentioned in it, assigned to 713 bc by Fuchs 1994: 468–​469. 342. Fuchs 1994: 463; Radner 2008: 63. 343. Parpola 1987: no. 1 =​Luukko 2012: no. 152: obv. 26−30, 43−56. There have been several suggestions to date the letter to a specific year. Lanfranchi 1988 dated it to 715 bc, but it makes better sense to place it after the defeat of Urartu in 714

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Wasusarma, according to the Topada inscription, and a client of Tiglath-​ pileser III who delivered tribute payments in 738 bc and possibly also later.344 Since then, Warpalawa had ruled over a territory called Tuwana (Assyrian Tuhana) in the region of modern Niğde in southern Cappadocia, just north of the Cilician gates.345 Tuwana’s most important settlements were the eponymous capital (modern Kemerhisar, Classical Tyana), as well as Porsuk/​Zeyve Höyük (Classical Tynna) and Niğde/​Kınık Höyük (ancient Nahitiya). The people of Atuna and Ištuanda, who were causing Warpalawa/​ Urpala’a grief by having taken “the cities of Bit-​Paruta” (i.e., Bit-​Purutaš/​ Tabal) away from him, according to Sargon’s letter, were likely based in northern Cappadocia, exploiting the regional power vacuum created when Tiglath-​pileser III had removed Wasusarma from power two decades earlier. The Assyrian governor of Que anticipated problems in the empire’s relationship with Warpalawa, should this situation be allowed to persist, as quoted in Sargon’s letter: Urpala’a [may slip away] from the king, my lord, on account of the fact that the Atuneans and Ištuandeans came and took the cities of Bit-​Paruta away from him.346 However, Sargon chose to focus on the positive, which in retrospect, was decidedly misguided: Now that the Muškean (i.e., Mita) has made peace with us and . . . , what can all the kings of Tabal do henceforth? You will press them from this side and the Muškean from that side so that (in no time)

bc (which lost Mita an important indirect ally), the attempted annexation of Tabal as an Assyrian province in 713 bc, as well as the defensive measures taken against Mita in 711 bc. 344. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 15: l. 1; no. 27: l. 6; no. 32: l. 7; no. 35: iii 12; no. 47: rev. 9′. 345. Hawkins 2016b. 346. Parpola 1987 =​Luukko 2012: no. 152: no. 1: rev. 43–​45.

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you will snap your belt on them. Thanks to my gods Aššur, Šamaš, Bel and Nabû, this land has now been trodden under your feet! Move about as you please, do whatever you have to do!347 Did Sargon try to put Warpalawa in charge of the local situation, only for this to backfire? Some years later, in 704 bc, Sargon himself died fighting in the region of Tabal, as we learn from a terse entry in the Assyrian Eponym Chronicle,348 and crucially, his body was not recovered from the battlefield. Given that Assyrian cultural conventions demanded that the dead be given a proper burial, and the king’s body be deposited among his ancestors in the tombs underneath the Old Palace of Assur (­chapter 37 in this volume), this caused an ideological crisis in Assyria,349 gravely exacerbated when the retribution campaign launched in 704 bc by Sargon’s son and successor, Sennacherib (704–​681 bc), as mentioned in a broken passage of the Eponym Chronicle but not in any royal inscriptions,350 proved unsuccessful. Warpalawa and his relatives were responsible for a number of local inscriptions, mostly of a religious character. The sequence of rulers of Tuwana, as represented in the local inscriptions, presents a number of problems. The earliest attested ruler is apparently Saruwani, lord of Nahitiya (modern Niğde), one of whose inscriptions has recently been assigned to the ninth century bc on the basis of sculptural arguments,351 although it remains possible that the inscription was added at a much later time to an ancient sculpture. The inscriptions of the kings

347. Parpola 1987 =​Luukko 2012: no. 152: no. 1: rev. 46–​55. 348. Millard 1994: 60; Glassner 2004: 174–​175: “The ki[ng marched on Tabal (?)]; against Gurdî, the Kulummaean, [ . . . ]; the king was killed; the camp of the king of Assyria [ . . . ].” 349. For discussions, see, e.g., Weeden 2017: 731 n. 55; Frame 2021: 30, 37. 350. Millard 1994: 60; Glassner 2004: 174–​ 175: “The nobles against the Kulummaean [ . . . ].” 351. ANDAVAL; see Balatti 2012; cf. Aro 2003: 323–​324.

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Warpalawa, son of Muwaharani, and Muwaharani, son of Warpalawa, have prompted discussion of whether there were two kings called Warpalawa, or only one, with a father and a son called Muwaharani.352 The figural representations of Warpalawa on the rock reliefs from Ivriz (figure 46.8; for a photograph, see ­figure 45.5 in ­chapter 45) and Bor are executed in Assyrian style, which matches his close association with the empire, as in evidence over the four decades from 738 to around 710 bc.353 The Assyrian style of a stele of Muwaharani, son of Warpalawa, also suggests its late date.354 Furthermore, a king called Masaurhisa is mentioned, without identifying the name of his territory, in the inscription of an army commander from Porsuk/​Zeyve Höyük,355 and he either may have ruled after Muwaharani, son of Warpalawa,356 or could be the king of an entirely different region—​easily imaginable in the chaotic local situation at the end of the eighth century bc. In 695 bc, Sennacherib campaigned against Til-​Garimmu, “which is on the borders of the land Tabal,”357 but his forces seemingly did not enter Tabal proper. Already in the previous year, he had an uprising in Hilakku (Rough Cilicia) to deal with, centered around the city of Illubru, and also including Ingira and Tarzu (Tarsus).358 While the latter is of course well known, also the other two cities have names that are

352. Simon 2013: 287–​290 (with further literature). 353. For IVRIZ 1, see Hawkins 2000: 516–​518, pls. 292–​295; Aro 2003: 336; and for BOR, see Hawkins 2000: 518–​521, pl. 206; Aro 2003: 323. 354. NİĞDE 2; see Hawkins 2000: 526–​527, pl. 301. 355. PORSUK; see Hawkins 2000: 527–​528. 356. Simon 2013. 357. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: v 1−14; no. 34: 19. The name Til-​Garimmu is likely the Assyrian rendering of the local toponym Tegarama, attested in the sources of the second millennium bc; see Grayson and Novotny 2012: 136 (with previous literature). 358. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 17: iv 61−91.

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Figure 46.8. The rock relief and inscription of Warpalawa of Tuwana, known as İVRİZ 1. Drawing by J.D. Hawkins, with kind permission.

already attested in the Late Bronze Age sources (Illubru/​Ellipra; Ingira/​ Egara) and can be located along the western coast of Plain Cilicia; their identification with Yumuktepe and Vıranşehir, respectively, is relatively secure.359

359. Forlanini 2013: 3–​5.

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The region continued to trouble the Assyrian Empire, and Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc) dispatched an army there in order to subdue Sandawarri, king of the cities Kundu and Sissû (both likely situated on the Cilician coast), said to have conspired with Abdi-​milkuti, the king of the Phoenician city of Sidon; this resulted in the capture and decapitation of Sandawarri (written Sanduarri in the Assyrian text), whose head, together with that of his Phoenician counterpart, was subsequently paraded “in the squares of Nineveh with singers and lyres.”360 Esarhaddon’s troops also ventured through the Cilician Gates to Hupušna/​Hupišna (section 46.6), in order to defeat a Cimmerian army.361 By the reign of Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc), a man called Šandašarme sat on the throne of Hilakku, and only one king of Tabal, called Mugallu, is mentioned to deliver tribute to Assyria;362 but whether Mugallu was the sole ruler of Tabal, or the only one who had sworn allegiance to Ashurbanipal, remains unclear. Sargon II’s failed attempt to integrate Tabal as an Assyrian province and his and later Sennacherib’s defeat on the battlefield in that same region seem to have brought any Assyrian expansion plans into the mountainous lands beyond the Cilician Plain to a halt. According to a fragmentary inscription from the temple of the god Ištar in Nineveh, Mugallu of Tabal made peace with Ashurbanipal and delivered tribute, but his son teamed up with the Cimmerian Tugdammî against the empire; as a consequence, Mugallu’s son was killed, and his family taken to Assyria, while Tugdammî retreated into the mountains.363 Whether or not a further treaty was imposed on Tabal during the 640s bc364 remains unclear from the wording of the Assyrian source.

360. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 20−38. See also ­chapter 47 in this volume. 361. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 43−55; see Simon 2021 and ­chapter 43 in this volume. 362. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 63−74. 363. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 23: ll. 139−162. Simon 2019b suggested that this Tugdammî was a Central Anatolian leader, rather than the Cimmerian Lygdamis, known also from Classical sources, but see c­ hapter 43 in this volume. 364. As suggested by Sano 2015; Simon 2021: 515.

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During the time of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire, Hiyawa/​Que was designated as Hume, and Hilakku either partially or wholly as Pirindu, and the Babylonian army campaigned in these regions during the reigns of Neriglissar and Nabonidus,365 extracting people and materials (in particular “Cilician iron”) but failing to ever achieve permanent control.366

46.8.  In conclusion In part, our historical survey of the “post-​Hittite” polities in northern Syria and Central Anatolia has been a narrative chronicling our attempts to comprehend, and frequently date, the local inscriptions, mostly written in Anatolian hieroglyphic writing and sometimes also in alphabetic script. The better we understand these sources, the more they enhance, complement, and sometimes contradict the accounts found in the royal inscriptions issued by the kings of the Assyrian Empire and other cuneiform sources. The dominant narrative is that of the Assyrian kings, as one would expect from the most powerful state of the time, which produced the most texts, and put the most effort into shaping the contemporary historical narrative. However, as these accounts are not meant to be comprehensive or impartial and deliberately focus only on the Assyrian crown’s point of view with the intent to glorify the individual ruler, what is not said is sometimes just as, or even more, important than what is mentioned. By considering the Assyrian sources and the local inscriptions from northern Syria and Central Anatolia together, we are frequently reminded just how much the source material at our disposal is shaped by the very historical processes that we are trying to understand. We also need to critically evaluate the modern master narratives. The idea that “less-​developed” states were formed through a process of secondary state-​formation and wealth generation via their interactions with more advanced states is beguiling, and the concept of the “contested periphery,” the notion that peripheral areas caught between great

365. For the sources, see Hawkins 2008: 194; also Simon 2021: 517. 366. For a more detailed discussion, see ­chapter 50 in volume 5.

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powers were enriched by their entanglement in the rivalries of their larger neighbors, has been applied to the region, and to Tabal in particular.367 However, archaeological fieldwork is beginning to reveal that during the so-​called dark period of ca. 1200 to 1000 bc (and perhaps a little later in the case of Tabal), developments were taking place all over the post-​Hittite world that signaled the creation of a new political framework. In part, this new order used and adapted traditional imperial Hittite instruments of power and representation (such as the use of hieroglyphic writing, and the prominent incorporation of monumental art in the architectural context of palaces/​elite residences and city gates). These strategies were embedded in new cultural traditions, created or negotiated either in the course or as a result of limited but impactful migration events, changes to the local settlement structure and distribution, and changes in local funerary practices, food production and consumption (as evidenced by pottery and hearth architecture), textile production (as evidenced by spinning tools), and other types of communal behaviors. Lorenzo D’Alfonso has referred to this period when different communal strategies for dealing with the crises, and also the opportunities, of the Early Iron Age are attested in various regions as the “Age of Experimentation.”368 Within this common cultural complex, however, the political discord in evidence among the various local states is striking. The borders of these kingdoms shifted and flowed, as did the alliances and allegiances between them. At first, we could observe the regional importance of Falastin (corresponding to Patin in Assyrian sources), centered on the Amuq region of the Orontes valley, and its influence over the transregionally influential temple of the storm god at Aleppo. The same period, or perhaps slightly later, saw the rise of Carchemish on the western bank of the Euphrates, which extended its influence, according to its rulers’ inscriptions, as far north as Malatya, possibly even Elbistan, and may also have controlled areas east of the Euphrates. In the late ninth century

367. Melville 2010. 368. D’Alfonso 2020.

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bc, Falastin/​Patin was eclipsed in the Orontes region by Hamath, which could build on ancient connections across the steppe regions to the Middle Euphrates, while its northern territories fell under the influence of Arpad/​Bit-​Agusi. Carchemish, too, benefited from the decline of Falastin/​Patin and extended its borders, especially in the eighth century bc. As a common enemy, Hiyawa (corresponding to Assyrian Que) appears on the scene in the Plain of Cilicia, seeing attacks by Falastin/​ Patin and probably also by Carchemish and Gurgum in the tenth and ninth centuries bc. In turn, Hiyawa/​Que put pressure on Sam’al/​Bit-​ Gabbari, from which its territory was divided by the Amanus range, and the Assyrian Empire was keen to exploit the political disunity in the strategically important region of this northeastern corner of the Mediterranean coast. By the middle of the eighth century bc, according to the (highly restored) alphabetic text on the stele from İncirli and the evidence of the Çineköy bilingual inscription, Que was allied with the Assyrian Empire. During that time, the empire profited politically from playing the different polities against each other, but proved unable to pursue this strategy with success in Tabal in Central Anatolia. It is in the regions occupied by Tabal and also its southern neighbor Hilakku (corresponding to Rough Cilicia) that “post-​Hittite” states are still in evidence even after the fall of the Assyrian Empire in the late seventh century bc, while the other regions had become part of the Assyrian provincial system a century earlier, by the end of the eighth century bc, after the powerful Anatolian kingdoms of Mita of Muški (Midas of Phrygia) and Urartu had become too influential and contested the Assyrian dominance over the smaller polities in northern Syria and Central Anatolia. It would be wrong to claim that the development of the post-​Hittite states piggy-​backed on the economic and military powerhouse that was the Assyrian Empire. These states formed thriving economies, especially in the tenth century bc and later, with the polities in Central Anatolia perhaps taking a slightly slower pace than those in northern Syria, and it was their economic prosperity that attracted the Assyrian Empire in the first place. The exchanges between the empire and the post-​Hittite states flowed in both directions, with the prominence of Kummuhean

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augurs at the Assyrian imperial capital of Kalhu in the eighth century and the use of the silver standard of Carchemish across the regions of the Assyrian Empire providing especially good examples of the great influence of the cultural traditions of the post-​Hittite world and its constituent polities. R ef er en c es Adalı, S.F. 2020. Iron Age Kültepe and its region in light of Tabal’s history. In Kulakoğlu, F., Michel, C., and Öztürk, G. (eds.), Kültepe in the Iron Age: integrative approaches to the archaeology and history of Kültepe−Kaneš. Turnhout: Brepols, 225–​237. Akçay, A. 2014. Tabal ülkesinin tarihsel süreci üzerine bir değerlendirme. Tarih İncelemeleri Dergisi 29: 37–​58. Akçay, A. 2015. Ovaören-​Yassıhöyük’den bir yarı ikonik idol. Arkeoloji ve Sanat 149: 47–​54. Akdoğan, R., and Hawkins, J.D. 2010. The Kirşehir letter: a new hieroglyphic Luwian text on a lead strip. In Süel, A. (ed.), Acts of the VIIth International Congress of Hittitology /​VII. Uluslararası Hititoloji Kongresi Bildirileri. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu, 1–​16. Alparslan, M., and Alparslan, M. 2013. A new Luwian rock inscription from Kahramanmaraṣ. In Mouton, A., Rutherford, I., and Yakubovich, I. (eds.), Luwian identities: culture, language and religion between Anatolia and the Aegean. Leiden: Brill, 215–​232. Aro, S. 2003. Art and architecture. In Melchert, H.C. (ed.), The Luwians. Leiden: Brill, 281–​337. Aro, S. 2009. The origins of the artistic interactions between the Assyrian Empire and north Syria revisited. Studia Orientalia 108: 9–​18. Aro, S. 2010. Luwians in Aleppo? In Singer, I. (ed.), Ipamati kistamati pari tumatimis: Luwian and Hittite studies presented to J. David Hawkins. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, Institute of Archaeology, 1–​9. Aro, S. 2013a. Carchemish before and after 1200 BC. In Mouton, A., Rutherford, I., and Yakubovich, I. (eds.), Luwian identities: culture, language and religion between Anatolia and the Aegean. Leiden: Brill, 233–​277. Aro, S. 2013b. Tabal. RlA 13: 388–​391. Aro, S. 2014. The relief on the slab NKL 2 at Karatepe−Azatiwataya: Neo-​ Assyrian impact in Cilicia? In Gaspa, S., Greco, A., Morandi Bonacossi,

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D., Ponchia, S., and Rollinger, R. (eds.), From source to history: studies on ancient Near Eastern worlds and beyond dedicated to Giovanni Battista Lanfranchi. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 11–​32. Bagg, A.M. 2011. Die Assyrer und das Westland: Studien zur historischen Geographie und Herrschaftspraxis in der Levante im 1. Jt. v. u. Z. Leuven: Peeters. Balatti, S. 2012. Some remarks on the dating of the Andaval Stela: palaeographic and iconographic analysis. Anatolica 38: 149–​168. Beyer, D. 2010: From the Bronze Age to the Iron Age at Zeyve Höyük/​ Porsuk: a temporary review. In D’Alfonso, L., Balza, M.E., and Mora, C. (eds.), Geo-​archaeological activities in southern Cappadocia (Turkey). Lugano: Italian University Press, 97–​109. Bonatz, D. 2000: Das syro-​hethitische Grabdenkmal: Untersuchungen zur Entstehung einer neuen Bildgattung in der Eisenzeit im nordsyrisch-​ nordostanatolischen Raum. Mainz: Zabern. Brown, M., and Smith, S. 2016. The land of Carchemish and its neighbours during the Neo-​Hittite period (c. 1190–​717 BC). In Wilkinson, T.J., Peltenburg, E., and Wilkinson, E.B. (eds.), Carchemish in context: the Land of Carchemish Project, 2006–​2010. Oxford: Oxbow, 22–​37. Bryce, T. 2012. The world of the Neo-​Hittite kingdoms: a political and military history. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bunnens, G. 2013. Looking for Luwians, Aramaeans and Assyrians in the Tell Ahmar stratigraphy. In Mazzoni, S., and Soldi, S. (eds.), Syrian archaeology in perspective: celebrating 20 years of excavations at Tell Afis. Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 177–​197. Çambel, H. 1989. Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian inscriptions, vol. 2: Karatepe-​ Aslantaş. Berlin: De Gruyter. Cilician Chronology Group. 2017. A comparative stratigraphy of Cilicia: results of the first three Cilician chronology workshops. AoF 44: 150–​186. Çifçi, A., and Greaves, A. 2010. Settlement patterns in the second and first millennia BC Elbistan Plain. Anatolica 36: 89–​110. D’Alfonso, L. 2012. Tabal: an out-​group definition in the first millennium BC. In Lanfranchi, G.B., Morandi Bonacossi, D., Pappi, C., and Ponchia, S. (eds.), Leggo! Studies presented to Mario Fales. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 173–​193. D’Alfonso, L. 2019. War in Anatolia in the post-​Hittite period: the Anatolian hieroglyphic inscription of TOPADA revised. JCS 71: 133–​152.

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D’Alfonso, L. 2020. An age of experimentation: new thoughts on the multiple outcomes following the fall of the Hittite Empire after the results of the excavations at Niğde−Kinik Höyük (south Cappadocia). In De Martino, S., and Devecchi, E. (eds.), Anatolia between the 13th and the 12th century BCE. Florence: LoGisma, 95–​116. D’Alfonso, L., and Castellano, L. 2018. Kınık Höyük in south Cappadocia: addendum to a comparative stratigraphy of Cilicia. AoF 45: 84–​93. D’Alfonso, L., Gorrini, M.E., and Mora, C. 2016. The Early Iron Age and the Hellenistic period at Kınık Höyük, south central Anatolia: report of the 5th campaign. Athenaeum 104: 598–​612. D’Alfonso, L., Yolaçan, B., Castellano, L., Highcock, N., Casagrande-​Kim, R., Trameri, A., and Gorrini, M.A. 2020. Niğde Kınık Höyük: new evidence on central Anatolia during the first millennium BCE. NEA 83: 16–​29. Defendenti, F. 2015. Le pouvoir royal proche-​oriental au Ier millénaire av. J.-​C.: le cas du royaume de Tabal en Anatolie méridionale. In Laboratoire junior ERAMA (ed.), Les mises en scène de l’autorité dans l’antiquité. Paris: De Boccard, 35–​48. Denizhanoğulları, A., Güriçin, M., and Peker, H. 2018. Kahramanmaraş’tan hiyeroglif luvice yeni bir stel: Maraş 17. Türkiye Bilimler Akademisi Arkeoloji Dergisi 22: 57–​61. DeVries, K., Kuniholm, P., Sams, G.K., and Voigt, M.M. 2003. New dates for Iron Age Gordion. Antiquity 77/​296: Project Gallery. Retrieved from http://​antiqu​ity.ac.uk/​projg​all/​dev​ries​296/​ (last accessed May 9, 2021). Dillo, M. 2013. The name of the author of ŞIRZI. BiOr 70: 332–​360. Dillo, M. 2016. The location and erection of the storm-​god stelae from Arsuz: deciphering the unreadable Luwian city name in Cilicia as the port of Urassa/​i. BiOr 73: 40–​61. Dinçol, A., Dinçol, B., Hawkins, J.D., Marchetti, N., and Peker, H. 2014. A stele by Suhi I from Karkemish. Orientalia 83: 143–​153. Dinçol, B., Dinçol, A., Hawkins, J.D., Peker, H., and Öztan, A. 2015. Two new inscribed storm-​god stelae from Arsuz (İskenderun): ARSUZ 1 and 2. AnSt 65: 59–​77. Dönmez, Ş. 2017. Amasya—​ Oluz Höyük: Kuzey—​ Orta Anadolu’da bir Akhaemenid (Pers) yerleşmesi: 2009–​ 2012 dönemi çalışmaları genel değendirmeler ve önsonuçlar. Amasya: Amasya Valiliği. Donner, H., and Röllig, W. 2002. Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften, vol. 1. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 5th rev. ed.

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Draycott, C., and Summers, G. 2008. Sculpture and inscriptions from the monumental entrance to the palatial complex at Kerkenes Dag, Turkey. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Durand, J.M. 2004. Peuplement et sociétés à l’époque amorrite, I: les clans bensimalites. In Nicolle, C. (ed.), Nomades et sédentaires dans le proche-​ orient ancien. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 111–​197. Emanuel, J.P. 2015. King Taita and his “Palistin”: Philistine state or Neo-​ Hittite kingdom? Antiguo Oriente 13: 11–​40. Eph‘al, I., and Naveh, J. 1989. Hazael’s booty inscriptions. IEJ 39: 192–​200. Erol, O. 1983. Die naturräumliche Gliederung der Türkei. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Fales, F.M. 2012. “Hanigalbat” in early Neo-​Assyrian royal inscriptions: a retrospective view. In Galil, G., Gilboa, A., Maeir, A.M., and Kahn, D. (eds.), The ancient Near East in the 12th to 10th centuries BCE: culture and history. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 99–​118. Fales, F.M. 2013. Til-​Barsip, A: philologisch. RlA 13: 34–​37. Fales, F.M. 2016. Til-​Garimmu. RlA 14: 43–​44. Fischer, P.M., and Bürge, T. (eds.) 2017. “Sea Peoples” up-​to-​date: new research on transformations in the Eastern Mediterranean in the 13th–​ 11th centuries BCE. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Forlanini, M. 2013. How to infer ancient roads and itineraries from heterogeneous Hittite texts: the case of the Cilician (Kizzuwatnean) road system. KASKAL: Rivista di storia, ambienti e culture del Vicino Oriente Antico 10: 1–​34. Frame, G. 2021. The royal inscriptions of Sargon II, king of Assyria (721–​705 BC). University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns. Frangipane, M. 2011. Arslantepe-​Malatya: a prehistoric and early historic center in eastern Anatolia. In Steadman, S., and McMahon, G. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Anatolia (10,000–​323 BCE). Oxford: Oxford University Press, 968–​992. Frangipane, M., Balossi Restelli, F., Di Nocera, G.M., Erdal, Y.S., Manuelli, F., and Mori, L. 2019. Recent Late Chalcolithic and Iron Age discoveries at Arslantepe: the 2017−2018 campaigns. In Steadman, S.R., and McMahon, G. (eds.), The archaeology of Anatolia, vol. III: recent discoveries (2017–​ 2018). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 15–​33. Fuchs, A. 1994. Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad. Göttingen: Cuvillier.

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Ross, J.C., McMahon, G., Heffron, Y., Adcock, S.E., Steadman, S.R., Arbuckle, B.S., Smith, A., and von Baeyer, M. 2019. Anatolian empires: local experiences from Hittites to Phrygians. Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology and Heritage Studies 7: 299–​320. Salvini, M. 2008. Corpus dei testi urartei, vol. I: le iscrizioni su pietra e roccia. Rome: Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche. Sano, K. 2015. Der Tod des [M]ussi von Tabāl und die anschließende Ankunft seiner ganzen Sippe und seines Heeres in Assyrien. NABU 2015: 167–​168 (no. 100). Sayce, A.H. 1876. The Hamathite inscriptions. Transactions of the Society of Biblical Archaeology 5: 22–​32. Schirmer, W. 1996. Der Göllüdağ im anatolischen Hochland und seine Bauanlagen aus dem 8. Jahrhundert v. Chr. Fridericiana: Zeitschrift der Universität Karlsruhe 51: 9–​26. Schirmer, W. 1998. Göllüdağ, 1995–​96. Araştırma Sonuçları Toplantısı 26/​ III: 51–​63. Seeher, J. 1998. Neue Befunde zur Endzeit von Hattuşa: Ausgrabungen auf Büyükkaya in Boğazköy. In Alp, S., and Süel, A. (eds.), Acts of the IIIrd international congress of Hittitology. Ankara: Uyum Ajans, 515–​523. Seeher, J. 2018: Büyükkaya, II: Bauwerke und Befunde der Grabungskampagnen 1952–​1955 und 1993–​1998. Berlin: De Gruyter. Siddall, L.R. 2013. The reign of Adad-​nīrārī III: a historical and ideological analysis of an Assyrian king and his times. Leiden: Brill. Simon, Z. 2012. Where is the land of Sura of the hieroglyphic Luwian inscription KARKAMIŠ A4b and why were Cappadocians called Syrians by Greeks? AoF 39: 167–​180. Simon, Z. 2013. Überlegungen zu Masaurhisas, einem König aus Tabal, und der Herrscherliste von Tuwana. Anatolica 39: 277–​296. Simon, Z. 2014. Awarikus und Warikas: zwei Könige von Hiyawa. ZA 104: 91–​103. Simon, Z. 2016. Wer war Allumari, König von Malatya? Anatolica 42: 67–​76. Simon, Z. 2017a. The northern border of Tabal. In Mouton, A. (ed.), Hittitology today: studies on Hittite and Neo-​Hittite Anatolia in honor of Emmanuel Laroche’s 100th birthday /​L’Hittitologie aujourd’hui: études sur l’Anatolie hittite et néo-​hittite à l’occasion du centenaire de la naissance d’Emmanuel Laroche. Istanbul: Institut français des études anatoliennes, 201–​211.

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Simon, Z. 2017b. What did Taita import from Egypt? Hieroglyphic Luwian ASINUS2(A) reconsidered. In Németh, B. (ed.), Now behold my spacious kingdom: studies presented to Zoltán Imre Fábián. Budapest: L’Harmattan Kiadó, 317–​330. Simon, Z. 2018a. Sapaziti, Sapalulme und die Suppiluliumas von W/Pal(a)stin(a/i). AoF 45: 122–​132. Simon, Z. 2018b. Die Griechen und das Phönizische im späthethitischen Staat Hiyawa: die zyprische Verbindung. In Mumm, P.-​A. (ed.), Sprachen, Völker und Phantome: sprach-​und kulturwissenschaftliche Studien zur Ethnizität. Berlin: De Gruyter, 313–​338. Simon, Z. 2019a. Aramaean borders: the hieroglyphic Luwian evidence. In Dušek, J., and Mynárová, J. (eds.), Aramaean borders: defining Aramaean territories in the 10th–​8th centuries BCE. Leiden: Brill, 127–​148. Simon, Z. 2019b. Kann Lygdamis mit Tugdammî gleichgesetzt werden? Ein Beitrag zur kimmerischen Geschichte. Res Antiquae 16: 271–​282. Simon, Z. 2020a. On some central Anatolian Neo-​Hittite ruler names with Šarruma. NABU 2020: 192–​195 (no. 92). Simon, Z. 2020b. The formation of the Neo-​Hittite states in Karkemish, its successor states and in the breakaway territories: an overview of political history. In Sollee, A.E. (ed.), Formation, organization and development of Iron Age societies: a comparative view. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 151–​171. Simon, Z. 2021. 401 BC: The year Neo-​Hittite statehood ended. In Payne, A., Velhartická, Š., and Wintjes, J. (eds.), Beyond all boundaries: Anatolia in the 1st millennium BC. Leuven: Peeters, 511–​524. Singer, I. 2011. The historical context of two Tell Nebi Mend/​Qadeš letters. KASKAL: Rivista di storia, ambienti e culture del Vicino Oriente Antico 8: 161–​175. Singer, I. 2012. The Philistines in the north and the kingdom of Taita. In Galil, G., Gilboa, A., Maeir, A.M., and Kahn, D. (eds.), The ancient Near East in the 12th to 10th centuries BCE: culture and history. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag, 451–​472. Starr, I. 1990. Queries to the sungod: divination and politics in Sargonid Assyria. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Steitler, C. 2010. The biblical Toi of Hamath and the Late Hittite state “P/​Walis(a)tin.” BN 126: 88–​99.

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1024 Oxford History of t he Ancien t N ear East Summers, G. 2010. Revising the end of the Late Bronze Age and the transition to the Early Iron Age at Tille Höyük. Iraq 72: 193–​200. Summers, G. 2013. Some implications of revised C14 and dendrochronological dating for the “Late Bronze Levels” at Tille Höyük on the Euphrates. In Yener, K.A. (ed.), Across the border: Late Bronze−Iron Age relations between Syria and Anatolia. Leuven: Peeters, 311–​328. Summers, G. 2017. After the collapse: continuities and discontinuities in the Early Iron Age of Central Anatolia. In Schachner, A. (ed.), Innovation versus Beharrung: was macht den Unterschied des hethitischen Reichs im Anatolien des 2. Jahrtausends v. Chr.? Istanbul: Ege, 257–​276. Sürenhagen, D. 2008. Hartapus—​ein Sohn Mursilis II. Studi micenei ed egeo-​ anatolici 50: 729–​738. Sürenhagen, D. 1986. Ein Königssiegel aus Kargamis. Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-​Gesellschaft 118: 183–​190. Şenyurt, Y., and Akçay, A. 2017. Ovaören 2015–​2016 yılı kazıları. Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı 39/​II: 571–​576. Tadmor, H., and Yamada, S. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III (744–​727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–​722 BC), kings of Assyria. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Tropper, J. 1993. Die Inschriften von Zincirli: neue Edition und vergleichende Grammatik des phönizischen, sam’alischen und aramäischen Textkorpus. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Uysal, B., and Çifçi, A. 2017. Elbistan kazısı, 2015. Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı 38: 35–​46. Venturi, F. 2013. The transition from the Late Bronze Age to the Early Iron Age at Tell Afis, Syria (Phases VII–​III). In Yener, K.A. (ed.), Across the border: Late Bronze−Iron Age relations between Syria and Anatolia. Leuven: Peeters, 227–​259. Voigt, M.M. 2011. Gordion: the changing political and economic roles of a first millennium BCE city. In Steadman, S., and McMahon, G. (eds.), The Oxford handbook of ancient Anatolia (10,000–​323 BCE). Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1069–​1094. Voigt, M.M. 2012. The unfinished project of the Gordion Early Phrygian destruction level. In Rose, C.B. (ed.), The archaeology of Phrygian Gordion, royal city of Midas. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 67–​99.

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Voigt, M.M. 2013. Gordion as citadel and city. In Redford, S., and Ergin, N. (eds.), Cities and citadels in Turkey from the Iron Age to the Seljuks. Leuven: Peeters, 161–​228. Wartke, R. 2005. Sam’al: ein aramäischer Stadtstaat des 10. bis 8. Jhs. v. Chr. und die Geschichte seiner Erforschung. Mainz: Zabern. Weeden, M. 2010. Tuwati and Wasusarma: imitating the behaviour of Assyria. Iraq 72: 39–​61. Weeden, M. 2013. After the Hittites: the kingdoms of Karkamish and Palistin in northern Syria. Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 56: 1–​20. Weeden, M. 2014. State correspondence in the Hittite world. In Radner, K. (ed.), State correspondence in the ancient world: from New Kingdom Egypt to the Roman Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 32–​63. Weeden, M. 2017. Tabal and the limits of Assyrian imperialism. In Heffron, Y., Stone, A., and Worthington, M. (eds.), At the dawn of history: ancient Near Eastern studies in honour of J.N. Postgate. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 721–​737. Weeden, M. 2018. The good god, the wine-​god and the storm-​god of the vineyard. WdO 48: 330–​356. Weippert, M. 1992. Die Feldzüge Adad-​Niraris III. nach Syrien: Voraussetzungen, Verlauf, Folgen. ZDPV 108: 42–​67. Welton, L., Harrison, T., Batiuk, S., Ünlü, E., Janeway, B., Karakaya, D., Lipovitch, D., Lumb, D., and Roames, J. 2019. Shifting networks and community identity at Tayinat in the Iron I (ca. 12th to mid-​10th century BCE). AJA 123: 291–​333. Wilkinson, T.J. 2016. The landscapes of Carchemish. In Wilkinson, T.J., Peltenburg, E., and Wilkinson, E.B. (eds.), Carchemish in context: the Land of Carchemish Project, 2006–​2010. Oxford: Oxbow, 68–​105. Wittke, A.-​M. 2004. Mušker und Phryger: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte Anatoliens vom 12. bis zum 7. Jh. v. Chr. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Woolley, C.L. 1921. Carchemish—​report on the excavations at Jerablus on behalf of the British Museum, part II: the town defences. London: Trustees of the British Museum. Woolley, C.L., and Barnett, R.D. 1952. Carchemish—​report on the excavations at Jerablus on behalf of the British Museum, part III: the excavations in the Inner Town and the Hittite inscriptions. London: Trustees of the British Museum. Wright, W. 1874. The Hamah inscriptions: Hittite remains. British and Foreign Evangelical Review 23: 90–​98.

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Yakubovich, I. 2010. Sociolinguistics of the Luvian language. Leiden: Brill. Yakubovich, I. 2015. Phoenician and Luwian in Early Iron Age Cilicia. AnSt 65: 35–​53. Yamada, S. 2000. The construction of the Assyrian Empire: a historical study of the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (859–​824 BC) relating to his campaigns to the West. Leiden: Brill. Yasur-​Landau, A. 2010. The Philistines and Aegean migration at the end of the Late Bronze Age. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yener, K.A. (ed.) 2005. The Amuq valley regional projects, vol. 1: surveys in the plain of Antioch and Orontes delta, Turkey, 1995−2002. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2016. A political history of the Arameans: from their origins to the end of their polities. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Zaina, F. (ed.) 2018. Excavations at Karkemish: the stratigraphic sequence of Area G in the Inner Town. Bologna: AnteQuem.

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The Iron Age States on the Phoenician Coast Françoise Briquel Chatonnet

47.1. Introduction The Phoenicians (figure 47.1a, b) have always been an object of great scholarly interest, but often only in a marginal way:1 on the one hand, they are a fringe topic within biblical studies, and on the other, they keep attracting considerable attention as partners, enemies, or counterparts of the Greeks and later the Romans. In the 1960s and 1970s, research blossomed as a result of the increase of archaeological investigations of Phoenician and Punic sites in the western Mediterranean, particularly in Italy (especially on the islands of Sicily and Sardinia), and thanks to excavations launched by UNESCO at the city of Carthage in modern Tunisia in 1972. As a result of the political developments in Spain after 1975, much new archaeological work also took place in that country. All of this fieldwork revealed

1. West Semitic inscriptions are generally quoted after Donner and Röllig 2002; for translations, discussions, and illustrations of these texts, see Donner and Röllig 1971; 1976. This chapter was translated from the original French by D. T. Potts and Karen Radner, who also updated the references to the Assyrian sources. Françoise Briquel Chatonnet, The Iron Age States on the Phoenician Coast In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0047

Figure 47.1a.  Sites mentioned in ­chapter 47, with modern place names marked in italics while ancient toponyms are set in regular type. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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Figure 47.1b.  Detail map.

an enormous quantity of material, prompting new typological studies. These developments led to further systematic research, particularly in Italy, where such work was spearheaded by Sabatino Moscati (1922−1997), professor of Semitic philology at “La Sapienza” University in Rome, who founded the Italian National Research Council’s Centro di Studio per la Civiltà Fenicia e Punica in 1969. This new research also included the analysis of references to the Phoenicians in classical texts and inscriptions. Since that time, the publication of conference and

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workshop proceedings,2 dedicated journals,3 monographs,4 and various research tools5 has proliferated, allowing for a fuller and richer perspective on the Phoenician world in general. Following a first exhibit in Brussels in 1986,6 an enormously successful exhibition on “The Phoenicians” was held at the Palazzo Grassi in Venice in 1988,7 and this further increased interest in and research on this subject. A new perspective emerged in scholarship, which considered not only material culture and religion, but also focused on the political institutions and the forces that drove Phoenician expansion in the Mediterranean and thus led to interactions with the Greek world. Furthermore, where Phoenician chronology and historical reconstruction had previously been based mainly on Greek and Latin sources, these were now called into question, as were long-​held preconceptions about Phoenician-​Punic religion that had been mainly based on biblical narratives and classical sources. However, the renewed interest in the Phoenicians also had its limitations. Research undertaken in the 1960s and 1970s was focused largely on the western Mediterranean, and this was not helped by the fact that war broke out at that time in Lebanon, curtailing any possibility of fieldwork in the area where Phoenician civilization originated, with the notable exception of Tell Kazel in Syria. This contributed to a skewed perspective on the Phoenicians, reinforcing problems in previous research that had been based primarily on classical sources. The Phoenician world was conceived, in a broad sense, as essentially coterminous with the Mediterranean, and the great cities of Tyre, Sidon, and Byblos were represented on maps of the Phoenician world as situated on

2. Notably the series Studi Fenici and Studia Phoenicia. 3. Note especially the journal Rivista di Studi Fenici, founded in 1973. 4. E.g., Moscati 1966; Gras et al. 1989; Baurain and Bonnet 1992; Briquel Chatonnet and Gubel 1998; Markoe 2000; Zamora 2003. 5. Lipinski 1992; Krings 1995. 6. Gubel 1986. 7. Moscati 1988.

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its eastern edge, as if the Phoenicians lived on the margins of their own sphere of influence.8 Above all, these studies assumed that it is clear who the Phoenicians were. The very notion that the Phoenicians could be considered a well-​ identified people, distinct from their neighbors, conscious of their cultural identity, and clearly defined in space and time, went unquestioned. All these studies presumed the existence of a clear-​cut Phoenician identity.9 However, it is precisely this aspect that has been the subject of vigorous interrogation in more recent research, so much so that one might ask provocatively whether the Phoenicians ever really existed.10 Thus, the first question to be addressed in this chapter must be, who were the Phoenicians?

47.2.  Who were the Phoenicians? Scholars are in agreement that the Phoenicians inhabited the eastern coast of the Mediterranean and spoke a Semitic language, more particularly a Northwest Semitic language belonging to the group conventionally called “Canaanite.”11 However, as soon as one attempts to be more precise than this, difficulties arise.

47.2.1.  The Phoenicians, a Phoenician notion? We readily speak of a Phoenician people, but when it comes to identifying what this means, contradictions quickly appear. To begin with, there was no political unity, since the region was divided into city-​states such

8. Note the exhibition “Assyria to Iberia: At the Dawn of the Classical Age” held in 2014 at the Metropolitan Museum, New York, which placed the Phoenicians in a much wider geographical context and center-​stage between Assyria in the east and Iberia in the west: Aruz et al. 2014. 9. Elayi 2013; Sader 2019. 10. Quinn 2018. On the question of unity and diversity, see van Dongen 2010; Bondì 2017. 11. Huehnergard and Rubin 2011: 260 (diagram).

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as Arwad, Byblos, Beirut, Sidon, and Tyre, each governed by its own king. According to the current state of our documentation which, for the Iron Age, essentially consists of royal inscriptions, each city, or rather each royal dynasty, was under the protection of its own gods. Each of these cities had its own political agenda in relation to the expanding Assyrian Empire,12 just as they had previously in the fourteenth century bc vis-​ à-​vis the New Kingdom of Egypt, as attested by the so-​called Amarna Letters (­chapter 28 in volume 3). In that respect, one can certainly invoke as a parallel the Greek world, which was also divided into city-​states that were often adversaries. Nevertheless, the Greeks recognized themselves as a people: they had a name to designate themselves collectively, regardless of whether they were Athenians, Thebans, or Spartans, recognizing themselves under the rubric “Greeks.” Additionally, even though they were conscious of regional dialectal differences, they nevertheless thought of themselves as speaking the same language, the use of which distinguished them from the “Barbarians.” Finally, they assembled periodically at ceremonies in communal sanctuaries, qualified as “panhellenic,” such as Delphi or Olympia, and organized amicable competitions such as the Olympic Games where champions from all over the Greek world measured their skill against each other. Indeed, the first Olympic Games marked the beginning of a chronological era used by all Greeks. Nothing of the sort is known for the Phoenicians, who never used a common era, as time was reckoned in the regnal years of the local rulers. No common Phoenician term is known which defined the Phoenicians as a collective. In the few Phoenician inscriptions left to us, the numbers of which increased only during the Hellenistic period (which is beyond the scope of this chapter), ethnicity or origins are always linked to a city: one was a “Sidonian,” another a “man of Kition” or “of Ashkelon,” as demonstrated by the biblical Book of Kings, in which the architect

12. Against Rollston 2016: 267: “Certain cities of the Eastern Mediterranean coastal region that shared a common language and culture, accompanied by political solidarity and a sense of shared ethnicity.” Nothing is known in relation to these two last points.

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Hiram is designated as “Tyrian.” The ethnonym “Phoenician” is a Greek term13 which never occurs in Phoenician texts. Its origin and meaning are debated, but it is highly unlikely that the Greek word phoinix designated the date palm, since this tree is characteristic of desert oases and not native to Lebanon. Similarly, linking that term to the color purple/​red is not satisfactory either, even if some scholars have suggested either a connection with the purple die production that was a specialty of the region by extracting the die from the glands of the local murex sea snails, or else to the supposedly “tanned” complexion of its inhabitants. Similarly, a linguistic link with the elusive Fenkhu mentioned in an Egyptian text remains unconvincing. We simply do not know why the Greeks designated the inhabitants of the eastern coast of the Mediterranean in this way, but the fact remains that the term “Phoenician” corresponds to a collective identity imposed from outside by the Greeks. It has been suggested that the inhabitants of the Phoenician coast referred to themselves as Canaanites, as indicated by some late sources. Thus, Augustine mentions peasants from his country who still called themselves “Canaanites” in his time,14 and the fact that the same term is attested contemporaneously in an inscription on a stele from the Punic sanctuary of el-​Hofra in Algeria shows that it is not only a qualifier Augustine had adopted from the Bible.15 On the coinage of Beirut issued from the reign of the Seleucid king Antiochus IV (175–​164 bc) onward,16 Beirut was qualified as being “in Canaan,” an expression which mirrors the Greek name of the city, “Laodicea (which is) in Phoenicia,” implying that in the second century ad, Canaan and Phoenicia were considered equivalent. Canaan may therefore have been the local toponym designating the region in question. However, if this was indeed the case, then it had a much wider extent than the area that we today call Phoenicia, reaching

13. Ercolani 2015. 14. August. Ad Rom. 13. 15. Berthier and Charlier 1955: no. 102. 16. Hill 1910.

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in particular across the entire region between the Jordan river and the Mediterranean: according to the Bible, the Canaanites were the indigenous population of the Southern Levant, with whom the Israelites interacted. On the other hand, the use of this toponym does not extend to north of the Homs Gap,17 although the northern cities of Arwad and Siyanu were certainly Phoenician. Thus, Canaan does not correspond geographically to what is usually considered “Phoenicia,” and it seems that in antiquity, no collective name was used locally to identify the inhabitants of the cities between Tyre and Arwad.

47.2.2.  Territorial extent Generally speaking, Phoenicia is understood as the portion of the eastern Mediterranean coast corresponding roughly to present-​day Lebanon, with some extensions to the south as far as Mount Carmel and north as far as Mount Zaphon. But this is only a conventional definition. Ancient authors more often defined Phoenicia as extending from the Gulf of Iskenderun18 to the Nile delta in Egypt,19 thus encompassing the entire Levantine coast. One can hardly draw any conclusions regarding the northward limit of Phoenicia. In the eleventh century bc, Tell Tayinat in the Amuq plain was the center of the kingdom of Falastin (­chapter 46 in this volume),20 founded perhaps by a population group linked to the Sea Peoples and related to the Philistines. This kingdom, which extended as far as Aleppo and perhaps Hamath, is documented in Anatolian hieroglyphic inscriptions,21 but the documentation does not allow us to determine how far west it extended and whether the coast was included. For later centuries, the sources are few and fragmentary. In fact, no inscriptions confirm for

17. Bordreuil 2010. 18. Hdt. 4.38: “Gulf of Myriandros near Phoenicia.” 19. Hdt. 7.89; Str. 16.2, 16.12, 16.21; Procop. Vand. 2.10. 20. Galil 2014. 21. Hawkins 2011.

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certain which language(s) were used north of Arwad, since the inscriptions of Arwad are the northernmost ones attested along the coast. The Phoenician name of the king of Siyanu suggests that the Phoenician world extended beyond it, but it is difficult in this northern region to identify the exact frontier with the Aramean world. Also in the east, the limits between the Phoenician and Aramean worlds cannot be established securely. The Jebel Ansariyah undoubtedly marks the northern limit, since the Orontes valley with the city of Hamath clearly belonged already to the Aramaic-​speaking sphere. But further south, it is unclear whether it was the Lebanon or the Anti-​Lebanon ranges that separated the Phoenician and Aramean cultural areas, as the lack of any epigraphic evidence makes it impossible to decide this issue. If we assume that the kingdom of Samsimuruna, mentioned in the annals of Esarhaddon of Assyria (680–​669 bc) in his campaign itinerary between Arwad and Ammon, was located to the north of the Beqaa valley,22 then the typically Phoenician name of its king Abi-​Ba‘al would seem to indicate a Phoenician presence there. For the Beqaa valley itself, this would be suggested by the very name of Baalbek. However, it is decidedly possible that the southern part of the Beqaa valley would have been under the control of the kings of Damascus in the ninth and early eighth centuries bc. Further south, the boundary is equally blurred. Even though the inscriptions of the Philistine cities are written in the same language as the Phoenician inscriptions, it is likely that they considered themselves as having a distinct, non-​Phoenician identity, as the Ekron inscription in particular suggests.23 Thus, it is difficult to define precisely the territorial limits of the Phoenician presence in the Levant. Nevertheless, the Phoenician cities shared common geographical characteristics. They were situated along the coast, sometimes on islands, and possessed natural harbors,24 but

22. Bordreuil 1985: 24–​25. 23. Naveh 1998; Schäfer-​Lichtenberger 2000. 24. Recent studies on the Phoenician ports include Carayon et al. 2011; Carayon 2012/​2013.

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extended only over a narrow region that was, for the most part, confined to the strip of land between the Mediterranean Sea and the mountains. This environment did not lend itself to the formation of political entities as large as the Aramean kingdoms or that of Israel, but naturally oriented its inhabitants toward the sea.

47.2.3.  Chronological scope Phoenician history is generally defined as extending from the beginning of the Iron Age to the conquests of Alexander the Great in the late fourth century bc, and the present chapter deals with the period up to the time when the Levant came under the control of the Persian Empire (for which see ­chapter 60 in volume 5). This periodization corresponds to a convenient division that is generally applied to the entire Near East. But if we see Phoenician history as the history of the inhabitants of the coastal cities of the Levant, whose culture and language correspond to what is dubbed Phoenician, then their history certainly did not begin in the Iron Age. The city of Byblos is attested in Egyptian sources as early as the fourth millennium bc (­chapter 6 in volume 1). At the beginning of the second millennium bc, the names of two kings of Byblos are attested in Egyptian hieroglyphic inscriptions on jewelry found in the royal tombs (­chapter 21 in volume 2),25 and names like that of Abi-​šemu (“His name is my father”) already display classical forms of Phoenician onomastics as attested a millennium later. In the fourteenth century bc, the so-​called Amarna Letters, part of the state correspondence of the New Kingdom pharaohs found during the excavations in Akhetaten (modern Tell el-​Amarna), the capital city of Akhenaten (1350–​1334 bc),26 document the cities later qualified as Phoenician. These letters were written in the Mesopotamian cuneiform script and in the Babylonian language, the international lingua franca

25. Dunand 1937–​1939. 26. For an edition, see Moran 1992.

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of the time.27 Many scribal errors, however, reveal that the underlying language, as far as we can reconstruct it, was very close to Phoenician, and moreover, a king of Tyre attested in these letters also bears the Phoenician name Abi-​milku. In the thirteenth century bc, royal correspondence exchanged by the kingdom of Ugarit with Sidon and Beirut testifies to the use of Phoenician terms in these southern cities, and also shows the continuity of cult practices since a sanctuary dedicated to Ba‘al of Sidon is mentioned for Sidon. An inscription in alphabetic cuneiform on the handle of a large vessel from Sarepta employed a short alphabet of twenty-​two letters,28 while at Ugarit, a longer alphabet is attested, the language of which can be classified as Phoenician.29 All of the evidence therefore suggests that there was no break between the second and the first millennium bc, i.e., between the Bronze Age and the Iron Age, in the political system, culture, language, or religion in the cities that we designate as “Phoenician.” However, what was new in the first millennium bc and what has led to their inhabitants being classified as Phoenicians from that point onward is, on the one hand, the beginning of their contact with the Greeks and, on the other hand, the development of linear alphabetic writing, which affords us access to texts written in the Phoenician language by the Phoenicians themselves. The end of the Phoenician world is no easier to determine. The Hellenistic period certainly marked a new political situation, in which local kingdoms gradually disappeared, but it was at this same time that inscriptions in Phoenician proliferated and local epigraphic documentation became most abundant.30 Until the mid-​second century bc, the Phoenician world was still very much alive, at least as far as religious life and funerary practices are concerned (­chapter 60 in volume 5).

27. Rainey 1996; Tropper and Vita 2010. 28. Most recently discussed by Boyes 2019. 29. Bordreuil 2012. 30. Briquel Chatonnet 2011.

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47.2.4.  A linguistic definition? We have seen that for the Greeks, language defined Greekness. Would the same hold true for the Phoenician language? The first point to note is that the Phoenician language is much less distinct from that of its neighbors than Greek is from other languages. As already noted (section 47.2), Phoenician belongs to the Northwest Semitic language group, more precisely to its Canaanite branch (which also includes Hebrew, Moabite, Edomite, and Ammonite), while Aramaic forms the other branch. In the northern regions, Phoenician speakers must at least have had great familiarity with Aramaic, and as for Hebrew, its proximity to Phoenician is such that one can postulate inter-​comprehension with reasonable confidence, particularly between the forms of the languages spoken in Galilee and in the region of Tyre.31 Notably, the Hebrew of the northern kingdom of Israel, as attested in the ostraca from Samaria, shares a characteristic linguistic feature with Phoenician, namely the reduction of the diphthong /​ay/​to /​ē/​, e.g., in the word yn “wine,” which takes the form yyn in Judean and biblical Hebrew. It is therefore not certain that the inhabitants of Tyre or Sidon would have considered language a strong enough identity marker to have united them with each other while differentiating them from others. Language also does not allow us to demarcate the southern border of the Phoenician world south of Tyre or even Akko, as the few inscriptions found in cities populated by what the Bible terms “Philistines” are not differentiated linguistically from Phoenician. For the most part, the kings of these cities, as mentioned in the Assyrian royal inscriptions, bear Phoenician-​type names, and the great god of the Philistines is the god Dagan (biblical Dagon), who is already well attested at Ugarit in the second half of the second millennium bc. The so-​called Gezer Calendar, which is often described as the oldest Hebrew inscription, exhibits the previously noted characteristic reduction of the diphthong /​ay/​to /​ē/​ shared by Phoenician and northern Hebrew in the word qṣ “summer,” which in Hebrew would be written qyṣ, demonstrating that this text

31. Briquel Chatonnet 1992.

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was written in a Phoenician-​type language, and not Judean Hebrew.32 A seventh-​century-​bc inscription from Ekron exhibits the same phenomenon in using the word bt “house,” which in Judean Hebrew would have been byt.33 In a historical and cultural sense, these are of course Philistine inscriptions,34 but linguistically, they are not distinguishable from Phoenician texts. Therefore, although in a linguistic sense, the Phoenician world extended as far as the Nile delta in Egypt, this should in no way be taken to imply an awareness of cultural unity, nor that the entire region shared a common history.

47.2.5.  A common religion? Can religion be considered a unifying factor in the Phoenician world? The pantheons of the various cities have some aspects in common,35 most notably the cult of the goddess Aštart, whose Hellenized name was Astarte.36 The cult of this goddess developed in the first millennium bc, when she locally supplanted Anat. Her functions were multifold, and on the one hand linked to fertility (which led to her Greek interpretation as Aphrodite), and on the other to war. In the Bible, she is frequently mentioned, sometimes in the plural, as being worshipped by the Canaanites. She was venerated at Tyre, as one of the curses protecting the treaty between Esarhaddon of Assyria (680–​669 bc) and Ba‘alu, king of Tyre, testifies;37 at Sidon, where the local kings bore the title “Priest of

32. Pardee 2013. 33. Gitin et al. 1997. 34. Xella 2017. 35. Lipiński 1995. 36. Bonnet 1996. 37. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 5: iv 18–​19: “May Aštart break your bow in the thick of battle and have you crouch at the feet of your enemy, may a foreign enemy divide your belongings.”

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Figure 47.2. Stone inscription with a dedication to Ba‘alat Gubal, the “Mistress of Byblos,” from Byblos. Musée Bible et Terre Sainte (Paris), CB 4022. Photo © Musée Bible et Terre Sainte, with kind permission.

Aštart” before their royal title in the period of the Persian Empire;38 and at Sarepta, where a dedication to Tanit-​Aštart has been discovered on an ivory plaque dated to the seventh century bc.39 At Byblos, inscriptions from various periods of the city’s long existence identify the local goddess as the “Mistress of Byblos” (Ba‘alat Gubal: b‘lt gbl) (figure 47.2), and it has been argued that this was in fact Aštart, an equivalence that was made explicit in later periods.40 The cult of this goddess was brought to Cyprus before spreading to the western Mediterranean. In each new setting, however, the deity adopted a particular character, and it is not certain how the conception of the goddess varied in the individual Phoenician cities and sites of Phoenician expansion around the Mediterranean 38. Donner and Röllig 2002: nos. 13 and 14. 39. Pritchard 1982. 40. Bordreuil 1998.

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where she is attested. At Byblos itself, the Mistress of Byblos was traditionally depicted by the iconography of the Egyptian goddess Hathor,41 while far away in what is today Spain, the bronze statue of the deity from El Carambolo on the Guadalquivir River (now kept at the Museo Arqueológico de Sevilla, hence known as the “Seville Statue”), which is identified as the Mistress of Byblos by a five-​line Phoenician inscription engraved on its base, features only a simple Egyptian hairstyle.42 With regard to the male deities, the degree of cultural unity is less clear-​cut. In the second millennium bc, Ba‘al is often the only male deity attested, e.g., at Ugarit, but later the divine name was almost exclusively encountered as a title that identified the divine master of a certain place such as a mountain, e.g., Ba‘al of Lebanon (on two bronze vessels found on Cyprus),43 or Ba‘al Ṣaphon, the “Master of Mount Zaphon” (modern Jebel Aqra), who also was worshipped far away from his holy mountain, including on the border to Egypt and in Carthage.44 That place could also be the heavens, as Ba‘al Shamim was the “Master of the Skies.”45 In the first millennium bc, each Phoenician city developed its own local cult. At Byblos, Ba‘al Gubal, the “Master of Byblos,” was worshipped alongside Ba‘al Shamim. The city god of Sidon was perhaps Ešmun, whose functional equivalence with the Greco-​Roman god Asclepius likely indicates a healing aspect.46 The god of Tyre was Melqart,47 protector of the city and of kingship, whose name (mlk qrt, “King of the City”) may indicate that he was perceived as the essence of the deified 41. Thus on the Persian-​period funerary stele of Yehaw-​milk, king of Byblos: Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 1. See ­figure 65.3 in ­chapter 65 of volume 5. 42. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 294. For a photograph of the statue, see Gras et al. 1989: pl. 8. 43. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 31. 44. For the mention of Ba‘al Ṣaphon near Egypt in a letter on parchment, see Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 50; for the “Marseilles Tariff,” an inscription originally from the temple of Ba‘al Ṣaphon in Carthage, see Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 69. 45. E.g., Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 4. 46. Xella 1993. 47. Bonnet 1988.

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royal ancestors. Thanks to Tyrian expansion, his cult spread throughout the Mediterranean, and according to the inscription of the two so-​called Malta Cippi from the second century bc, Melqart was known as “Master of Tyre” (mlqrt b‘l ṣr).48 Other deities, with a less localized character, are known. The curses of the already mentioned treaty of Ba‘alu of Tyre with the Assyrian king Esarhaddon list several gods as guarantors of the agreement on the Tyrian side: Aštart, the pairing Melqart and Ešmun, and the trinity of Ba‘al Shamim, Ba‘al Ṣaphon, and Ba‘al Malage. This last god is only attested here and was perhaps the divine protector of sailors.49 Only rarely attested at Phoenician cities of the Iron Age is the war god Rašap (biblical Resheph, where the name is used in the plural), a pan–​Western Semitic deity that is first attested in the third millennium bc.50 As we have already discussed, the goddess Tanit (Tinnit) is attested at Sarepta already during the seventh century bc, in close connection with Aštart, but she was venerated especially in later periods at Carthage. Other gods seem to have been particularly popular in certain places, such as Ṣid on Sardinia and Ba‘al Ḥammon in the Punic world.51 Summing up, one cannot really speak of a Phoenician pantheon, but rather of multiple poliad pantheons and various other widely known deities, who sometimes particularly served as protectors of individuals, as the widespread amulets of, e.g., Bes show.52 There are no surviving mythological texts in Phoenician. One reason for this is that the use of the language was already lost in antiquity and its literature did not enter the manuscript tradition; unlike the Greek and Latin myths, Phoenician texts were not copied again and again over the centuries. Additionally, as such texts were probably recorded on papyrus

48. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 47. 49. Briquel Chatonnet 1992: 204–​206. 50. Lipiński 2009; Münnich 2013. 51. Xella 1991. 52. E.g., at Byblos (Dunand 1937–​1939: pl. LXXIII) and Dor (Stern 1982: 113, pl. 15: B).

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or other organic materials, they did not survive the humid climate of the Levantine coast, in contrast to arid Egypt, where such writings have a good chance of preservation, or in those regions where the cuneiform script was used, whose clay tablets may survive for millennia until they are unearthed during archaeological excavations. As a result, Phoenician mythology is almost completely unknown. Thus, modern reconstructions are based on Ugaritic mythological texts, and on traditions attributed to the mysterious Sanchuniaton, a priest of Beirut, whose writings were supposedly translated by Philo of Byblos, and then transmitted by Eusebius of Caesarea, although only fragments have survived.53 The myth of Adonis, a god who died and was reborn, is also attested in Greek literature,54 and can be compared to the death and resurrection of Ba‘al in Ugaritic mythology.55 But whether or not a common Phoenician mythology ever existed remains unclear. Only a few sanctuaries have been excavated on the Phoenician coast, and those presently known to us date either to the second millennium bc, such as the temples of Byblos, or to the period of the Persian Empire, such as the sanctuary of Bustan esh-​Sheikh near Sidon,56 or the small podium temple of Tyre.57 The only known sanctuary dating to the Iron Age is that of Sarepta, which comprises a large, elongated room running east-​west, with an entrance on the side.58 Following the biblical descriptions, the temple said to be constructed by Solomon at Jerusalem should be classified as a North Syrian building type, and not as a Phoenician construction.59

53. Ribichini 2008. 54. Luc. Syr. D. (composed in the second century ad). 55. Ribichini 1981. 56. E.g., Dunand 1973. 57. Badre 2015. 58. Pritchard 1978: 131–​139. 59. Margueron 1985.

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In addition to sanctuaries inside settlements, we know of cults that were practiced in the mountains.60 It seems that each city maintained its own sanctuary, or sanctuaries, in the mountainous inland areas. Hence, the shrine at Baetocaece (modern Hosn Suleiman) was situated high up in the Jebel Ansariyah mountain range opposite the island occupied by Arwad, and was linked to that city, as was also the sanctuary of Qadboun, situated further north in the mountains; the shrine at the Afqa spring was connected to Byblos and to the myth of Adonis; the temple of Deir al-​ Qal’a, where Ba‘al Marqod was worshipped, was associated with Beirut; and the sanctuary of Bostan esh-​Sheikh, dedicated to Ešmun, was linked to Sidon, as was a mountain temple known only from inscriptions. The extant sources give no indication for the existence of any pan-​Phoenician sanctuaries that would have been shared by different Phoenician cities, like the pan-​Hellenic sanctuaries of Olympia or Delphi in the Greek world. With the exception of the so-​called Marseilles Tariff of the third century bc, an inscription that probably originated from the temple of Ba‘al Sapon at Carthage,61 the cult and rites themselves are poorly documented.62 However, a comparison between the sacrifices mentioned in the Marseilles Tariff and those attested in the Bible certainly suggest the existence of cults that were similarly organized along the entire Levant, rather than features that would have been uniquely Phoenician. Whereas the rite of the tophet (whatever it may have been) is well attested later at Carthage and throughout the Punic world,63 nothing suggests for the moment that it was ever practiced on the Phoenician coast. Therefore, onomastics are our best source for the Phoenicians’ relationship with their gods: the vast majority of extant personal names include a divine element,64 as was also typical for other population groups using Semitic languages at the time (cf. ­chapter 40 in this

60. Briquel Chatonnet 2005a. 61. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 69. 62. Ribichini 2008. 63. Benichou-​Safar 1989; Ribichini 2008: 341–​354; Xella 2013. 64. Benz 1972.

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volume). Most often, names consist of two parts: the name of a deity and an element indicating either a quality of this deity, the designated person’s relationship to the deity (e.g., Abd-​Aštart, “Servant of Aštart”), or an action in favor of the designated person or his or her relatives (e.g., Ba‘al-​yaton, “Ba‘al gave”; Ešmun-​azor, “Ešmun helped”). The same name types were widespread throughout the Phoenician world, but also more widely across the Levant, as these names are found in Philistia and in Israel (where names with Ba‘al were popular before names with YHWH came to predominate).

47.2.6.  Issues of expansion and colonization The westward expansion that brought the people of certain Phoenician polities into contact with the Classical world, and thus made them known to Greek and Latin authors, is probably one of the most prominent aspects in the modern conception of the Phoenicians; above all, the Phoenicians emerge from these sources as sailors and merchants. Yet it must be emphasized that the main engines of this expansion and of the colonization of the Mediterranean were just two of these polities, namely the southern city-​states of Tyre and Sidon. It is therefore incorrect if one attributes this achievement to the entire Phoenician world. Nevertheless, the period considered in this chapter saw the Phoenician world expand far beyond the area of its origin.65 The expansion in the Mediterranean is best elucidated by the results of archaeological work as well as the classical sources, which mention them as a consequence of having come into contact with the Greeks in the eastern Mediterranean and as far as Sicily, and later with the Romans in the western Mediterranean. The quest for metals—​copper from Cyprus, iron from Sardinia and Etruria, silver from the Iberian Peninsula, tin from the British Isles—​was the driving force of this expansion. As early as the ninth century bc—​and perhaps even sooner than that if one accepts the tradition that fixes the foundation of Utica in present-​day Tunisia and

65. Note the methodological reflections in Arruda 2020.

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Gades (modern Cádiz) in Spain at around 1100 bc,66 Phoenician trading posts were established from Cyprus all the way to Spain, including on the coast of northern Africa, and even on the Atlantic coast of Morocco and southern Portugal. These trading posts gradually developed into proper cities, many of which bore the name Carthage (qrt ḥdšdt), which means “New City.”67 Originally, these cities were ruled by governors, but eventually, they became independent political entities with their own governments, like the kingdom of Kition on Cyprus or like Carthage in modern Tunisia. A question that is often raised in modern research concerns the connection between the pressure put on the Phoenician polities by the Assyrian Empire and their expansion into the Mediterranean, which can be seen as a kind of escape from Assyrian domination and the resulting obligation to pay tribute, and as a strategy to safeguard wealth by accumulating it beyond the reach of the Assyrian Empire. But imperial pressure alone cannot explain the beginnings of Phoenician movement toward the west, since this started when there was very little, if any, Assyrian presence on the Mediterranean coast (on the one-​off campaign of Tiglath-​pileser I in 1111 bc, see section 47.3.2, and also ­chapter 37 in this volume). From the mid-​eighth century bc onward, however, the Assyrian Empire extracted regular tribute payments from the region, which certainly drained some of its wealth. The inscriptions of the Assyrian kings enumerate such payments as consisting primarily of metals (ore and finished products), purple cloth, finished luxury products (made, e.g., from ivory) and exotic animals, sourced primarily from Africa. The Assyrian Empire’s policy of extracting tribute may have had multiple effects on the region. While it certainly resulted in the extraction of wealth, it also stimulated the development of metal and textile craftsmanship, and prompted a quest for new sources of raw materials in various regions around the Mediterranean Sea and even in the Atlantic, including at the mouths of the rivers on the western coast 66. For Utica, see Plin. HN 16.216; for Gades, see Vell. Pat. 1.2.3. 67. For the city called Carthage on Cyprus, note the testimony of the inscriptions engraved on two bronze bowls: Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 31.

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of Africa, thus connecting with the trans-​African land route network.68 These positive effects, which also greatly benefited the Assyrian Empire, probably explain why it chose not to annex the Phoenician polities but was content with turning these kingdoms into client states. The empire’s foundation of formal places of trade (Assyrian kāru, “harbor,” trading quay”), such as the trading post at Arwad, may have greatly stimulated commercial relations and also benefited private trade.69 While the expansion to the west is typically much emphasized in modern research, the Phoenician influence exercised in the eastern Mediterranean, and beyond, is arguably just as important. But while it clearly contributed to the diffusion of Phoenician cultural phenomena, the Phoenician presence in the east never took the form of colonization. On the eastern Mediterranean coast, strong Phoenician influence is in evidence in the north in Cilicia and in the Amanus region, in the form of inscriptions in that script and language in cultural environments that were otherwise predominantly Luwian and/​or Aramean (­chapter 46 in this volume). Even if the sites at which this can be observed (Sam’al, modern Zincirlı; Azatiwadaya, modern Karatepe; see section 47.3.1) were not Phoenician trading posts, the diffusion of Phoenician language and writing implies the maintenance of close relationships and probably the presence of Phoenician communities. The dedication of a stele by a king of Aleppo to the Tyrian god Melqart (section 47.2.5) provides further evidence for such deep-​rooted connections.70 To the south, it is possible that Phoenicians from Tyre contributed their naval know-​how to one or more Israelite or Israelite-​Judean expeditions to the Red Sea.71 Rather than in the time of Solomon, as the Bible would have it, such activities probably took place in the eighth century

68. Hdt. 4.196. 69. On this question more generally, see Fales 2017: 268–​273. 70. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 201. For the reading of the ruler’s name as “Bar-​ Hadad son of Attar-​šumki,” and thus his identification as a king of Arpad, see Younger 2016: 533–​535. 71. Lemaire 1987.

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bc.72 The presence of inscriptions in Phoenician script at Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, situated in the arid landscapes on the border between the Negev and the Sinai, is perhaps an indication that Phoenicians traveled on this important overland route to the south.73 Much further inland, Phoenicians were also present in the core region of the Assyrian Empire, where Phoenician names are attested for some members of the Assyrian court.74 At the capital city of Dur-​ Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad), a stamp seal with the Phoenician inscription of a certain Abd-​Ba‘al (figure 47.3) was discovered underneath one of the winged bull colossi of the palace of Sargon II (721–​705 bc), and may therefore have belonged to a Phoenician who was involved in the construction of this building.75

47.2.7.  The question of Phoenician art The Phoenician city-​states were able to take advantage of the fact that they were situated at a crossroads between Asia, Africa, and the Mediterranean. This position allowed them to utilize a variety of materials and export the results as finished products. It is perhaps in their art that a common culture of the Phoenicians is best manifested.76 Phoenician art was open to multiple influences—​so much so that the first modern commentators argued that Phoenician art’s only originality lay in not being original at all.77 However, it is now generally accepted that Phoenician artists, despite drawing on Egyptian, Near Eastern, and Aegean traditions, created works that are nevertheless identifiable as Phoenician, and that the exchanges with their Levantine neighbors were not only commercial but also artistic. 72. Briquel Chatonnet 2010. 73. Meshel 2012. 74. See, e.g., Lipinski 1983; 1991. 75. Bordreuil 1986: 24; 1995. 76. Benichou-​Safar 1995; Gubel 2016; 2019. 77. Perrot and Chipiez 1885.

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Figure 47.3.  Stamp seal of Abd-​Ba‘al with a Phoenician inscription, and its modern impression. Excavated at Dur-​Šarrukin (modern Khorsabad). Louvre, AO 5831. Photo © 1998 RMN-​Grand Palais (Musée du Louvre) /​Hervé Lewandowski.

Little is known about Phoenician architecture, but the presence of the aforementioned Phoenician stamp seal of Abd-​Ba‘al underneath a monumental gate construction at the Assyrian capital Dur-​Šarrukin (section 47.2.6) may perhaps suggest this man’s participation in its construction, although many other scenarios could be envisaged to explain this find at the heart of the Assyrian Empire. On the Phoenician coast itself, the most impressive building remains, such as the temple of Bustan esh-​Sheikh and the sanctuary of Amrit, date to the Persian imperial period.78 However, the fortifications of Tyre and a monument that rises above them are depicted on the wall decorations of the palace of Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) in Nineveh in a scene representing the flight of the Sidonian king Lulî from Tyre in 701 bc (figure 47.4).79 The architecture in this image featured imposing, crenellated walls and a monumental entrance—​perhaps of a temple—​framed by two freestanding columns, evoking those alleged to have stood at the entrance to the temple constructed by Solomon at Jerusalem, according to the biblical testimony.

78. Dunand 1973; Dunand and Saliby 1985. 79. Barnett et al. 1998: 52, pl. 30, figs. 30–​31.

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Figure 47.4.  The flight of Lulî, king of Sidon, by boat from the city of Tyre in 701 bc, as depicted on Slabs 14–​15 in the wall decoration of the throne room of Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace at Nineveh. The boats are all bireme ships, with two decks of oars on each side, in some cases supplemented by a sail. Hand drawings reproduced from Layard 1849: pl. 71.

Although not presently attested on the Phoenician coast, a characteristic decorative architectural motif attested in the areas of Phoenician expansion including Cyprus, and also in the kingdom of Judah during the time of its closest cultural connection with the Phoenicians,80 seems to be of Phoenician origin, namely the so-​called proto-​Aeolic capitals, composed of two volutes set on either side of a central triangle (figure 47.5). Also the so-​called Hathor capitals, depicting the face of the Egyptian goddess Hathor with her distinctive cow’s ears and a wig, found on Cyprus are thought to be of Phoenician origin.81 Phoenician sculpture is also manifested in statues and reliefs, including those representing deities. The steles of Tell Kazel (formerly thought

80. Shiloh 1979. 81. Carbillet 2011.

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Figure 47.5.  A “proto-​Aeolic” capital from Cyprus. Louvre, AM 2753. Photo © 1998 RMN-​Grand Palais (Musée du Louvre) /​Hervé Lewandowski.

to have originated in Amrit; figure 47.6)82 and Qadboun83 each depict a god standing on a lion and brandishing a weapon, in a posture that perpetuated a tradition previously attested in the second half of the second millennium bc at Ugarit. Because it invokes and depicts the god Melqart (the divine protector of Tyre), the so-​called Melqart Stele from Breij near Aleppo can probably be included here,84 even though it bears the Aramaic inscription of a king of Arpad.85

82. Gubel et al. 2002: 51–​53 no. 38. 83. Bounni 1991. 84. Dunand 1939. 85. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 201; Younger 2016: 533–​535.

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Figure 47.6.  Stele depicting a male deity standing atop a lion, from Tell Kazel (formerly thought to originate from Amrit). Louvre, AO 22247. Photo by Rama via Wikimedia Commons (https://​comm​ons.wikime​dia.org/​w/​index. php?curid=​87117​427), Creative Commons Attribution-​ShareAlike 3.0 France (CC BY-​SA 3.0 fr) license.

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The Phoenicians excelled in the manufacture of artworks that were small, easily transportable, and thus well-​suited for trade. Their use as tribute paid to the kings of Assyria, as well as their diffusion throughout the Mediterranean, testifies to the popularity of these small-​scale objects. Woodworking and the manufacture of furniture were particularly developed crafts, even though their products are better known today from their depictions, e.g., from the wall decoration of Assyrian palaces, than from surviving objects.86 Pieces of furniture and other wooden objects such as boxes were typically inlaid with carvings of ivory, and there are also smaller objects such as cosmetic containers made entirely of ivory. Large numbers of such carvings have been found in Samaria, the capital of the kingdom of Israel, as well as at various Assyrian settlements, both imperial capitals like Kalhu (modern Nimrud; figure 47.7) and provincial sites, like Hadatu (modern Arslan Tash) in Syria.87 Sometimes decorated with gold or inlaid with glass or colored stones, the imagery on such plaques shows a variety of influences, predominantly from Egypt: popular motifs include the depiction of the birth of the Horus child between the goddesses Isis and Nephthys. But there are also purely Phoenician motifs, notably the so-​called Lady at the Window, which depicts a female head emerging above a balustrade decorated with palmettes, set in a triple frame (figure 47.8). Their novel interpretation of Egyptian motifs and the particular delicacy of their execution distinguish Phoenician ivories from the contemporary products of Syrian workshops.88 The Phoenicians also distinguished themselves in metalworking, including the manufacture of jewelry, but most importantly the production of silver and bronze vessels.89 Such vessels are typically shallow bowls decorated with ornamental or figurative designs arranged in

86. Gubel 1987. 87. Cf. the contributions in Suter and Uehlinger (eds.) 2005; Cecchini et al. (eds.) 2009. 88. Cf. Winter 1976; Hermann and Laidlaw 2015. 89. Markoe 1985.

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Figure 47.7.  An ivory plaque in Phoenician style in the shape of a browsing stag, with the antlers broken off. Excavated in Kalhu (modern Nimrud). Front and back view. Cleveland Museum of Art, accession no. 1968.49 (purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund). Photos by Cleveland Museum of Art (https://​www.cleve​ land​art.org/​art/​1968.49), Public Domain dedication (CC0).

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concentric friezes, featuring war and hunting scenes, Nilotic landscapes, or symmetrically arranged rows of animals and mythical creatures such as sphinxes. Again, these artifacts demonstrate the reinterpretation and reconfiguration of Egyptian motifs in original designs (figure 47.9). Small figurines were cast in metal (such as the “Seville Statue,” a bronze of the goddess Aštart from El Carambolo; see section 47.2.5), and also sculpted in clay. Moreover, glass paste was used from the seventh century bc onward to produce small vessels,90 and we should also note the practice of decorating ostrich eggs.91 Phoenician stamp seals, identifiable by their Phoenician-​ language inscriptions, were made of a variety of semi-​ precious stones,92 and these objects provide a wealth of imagery, often arranged in superimposed registers, with the Egyptian uraeus motif—​a stylized upright cobra—​particularly popular. Finally, the Phoenicians are inextricably associated with the production of purple dye, whose invention is associated in the Greek tradition with Tyre (hence “Tyrian Purple”),93 perhaps related to a local legend depicted in later times on Phoenician coins.94 Lists of Levantine tribute in the Assyrian royal inscriptions regularly mention high-​quality textiles of different colors,95 as does the biblical Book of Ezekiel when listing Tyrian merchandise: These were thy merchants in all sorts of things, in blue purple, and broidered work, and in chests of rich apparel, bound with cords . . . among thy merchandise.96

90. Caubet 2007. 91. Gubel 2015. 92. Avigad and Sass 1997. 93. Ach. Tat. Leucippe and Clitophon 2.11.4−8. 94. Hill 1910: 227. 95. Bunnens 1983. 96. Ez 27:24.

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Figure 47.8.  An ivory plaque in Phoenician style depicting “The Lady at the Window.” From the Northwest Palace in Kalhu. British Museum, ANE 118159. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Creative Commons Attribution-​ NonCommercial-​ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-​NC-​SA 4.0) license.

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Figure 47.9. Silver-​ gilt bowl from Cyprus, dated to ca. 725–​ 675 bc. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (The Cesnola Collection, Purchased by subscription, 1874–​1876), accession no. 74.51.4554. Photo by Metropolitan Museum of Art (https://​www.metmus​eum.org/​art/​col​lect​ion/​sea​rch/​243​823), Public Domain dedication (CC0).

47.2.8.  The scope of this chapter From the preceding discussion, it is clear that the notion of what “Phoenician” means remains vague, or at least difficult to define. It cannot be said that it corresponds to an ethnic identity, or even to a collective identity that the inhabitants of the different city-​states on the Phoenician coast would have easily recognized as theirs.97 In the eyes 97. Fales 2017: 197.

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of Greek authors, and also in the minds of the compilers of the Bible, who presented them as counterparts of Israel and Judah, the Phoenicians were a distinct group, but their descriptions only really applied to the inhabitants of Tyre, or Tyre and Sidon. On the other hand, modern philologists recognize a discrete corpus of Phoenician inscriptions (section 47.2.4). Be that as it may, examining the geographical and chronological limits traditionally assigned to the Phoenician world make it no easier to define a single population group as Phoenician than to write a “history of Phoenicia,” even though publications purporting to do just that keep multiplying.98 What we attempt in the following is to survey the history of those Phoenician cities and city-​states which the inscriptions in Phoenician language and script and other sources allow us to define as such. Our presentation is arranged geographically, moving along the eastern Mediterranean coast from north to south. We will survey the history of these cities from the moment of their first re-​emergence in the early first millennium bc down to the Persian imperial period. Even though they are an artificial construct, the framework of our presentation follows the traditional geographical and chronological limits assigned to the Phoenicians.

47.3.  Sources and chronological framework 47.3.1.  The sources

A history of the Phoenician cities is difficult to write because, just like the literary and religious texts in Phoenician, any historiographic sources that may once have existed are today lost. The only extant internal historical sources are the inscriptions on stone monuments. However interesting, the number of texts of this type at our disposal is quite meager.99

98. Most recently, e.g., Elayi 2018; Ercolani and Xella 2018; Doak and Lopez-​Ruiz 2019; Sader 2019. 99. Collected in Donner and Röllig 2002.

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For the earliest part of the period under study in this chapter, alphabetic writing seems to have been only in limited use in the northern Levant, where it first appeared at the turn of the second to the first millennium bc.100 Typically, the oldest available evidence consists of only a few letters incised on ceramics. Even later, when Phoenician writing seems to have been more common, the vagaries of survival mean that very few inscriptions of a historical character have been recovered from Phoenician sites.101 For the period prior to the integration into the Persian Empire, so far only the northern city of Byblos has yielded any royal inscriptions, and these are all dedicatory in nature and provide only the names of some rulers. Historical inscriptions in the Phoenician language and script derive either from the Aramean-​Luwian sites of southeastern Anatolia (Sam’al, modern Zincirlı; Azatiwadaya, modern Karatepe),102 or are of later date, such as the Persian-​period funerary inscription of Ešmun-​azor II, king of Sidon (see ­figure 60.2 in ­chapter 60 of volume 5.). The available corpus of Phoenician texts also includes a few ostraca, i.e., ceramic sherds or flat slabs of stone inscribed with ink. All of the stone ostraca come from Cyprus, principally from Idalion,103 and most are accounting notes. In addition, three papyri in Phoenician are currently known: two from Egypt and one from Malta; all are private documents.104 The inscriptions of seals, which sometimes belonged to high-​ranking persons, including kings,105 can be classified as historical documents, although the information they contain is quite limited. Taken as a whole, what is available in terms of internal Phoenician

100. Finkelstein and Sass 2013. 101. The most important texts are edited in Donner and Röllig 2002, as well as Gibson 1982. For the inscriptions kept in the collection of the Louvre, see Gubel et al. 2002. 102. Yakubovich 2015. 103. Amadasi Guzzo and Zamora López 2016. 104. Egypt: Aimé-​Giron 1939; 1940; Malta: Gouder and Rocco 1975. 105. Avigad and Sass 1997.

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sources is not overly helpful for writing a history of the Phoenician cities. Authors writing in the Hellenistic period, such as Dios and Menander of Ephesus,106 relate events in Tyrian history based on information that they claim originated in the archives of Tyre. Recent research, however, has shown that narratives about King Hiram, supposedly a contemporary of the biblical Solomon, and Itho-​Ba‘al, a contemporary of Ahab of Israel, are likely to have been inspired by the Bible and therefore can hardly be considered independent sources.107 The most reliable part of this information is undoubtedly the list of the kings of Tyre,108 whose sequence can be corroborated in part by data in the Bible and especially in the Assyrian royal inscriptions.

47.3.2.  Chronological framework The historical framework for writing a history of the Phoenician city-​ states is therefore based, above all, on external sources: most importantly, the Assyrian documentation, the Bible, and the Classical sources.109 Their history is marked by the expansion and collapse of the Assyrian, Neo-​Babylonian, and Persian empires, and the relationships that the individual city-​states maintained with these entities. A constant in the history of the small states of the Levant and inland Syria is the fact that they were always situated in a middling position in the hierarchy of power. While locally the Phoenician kings were sovereigns who ruled over their peoples, they were often forced to deal with the pressures of the neighboring empires that demanded, on an ideological level, subservience and loyalty, and on a practical level, tribute payments and

106. Their writings are only known from the fragments transmitted by Flavius Josephus; see Briquel Chatonnet 1992: 14–​18. 107. E.g., Timm 1982. 108. Joseph. Ap. 1.121−126. 109. Collected in Mazza et al. 1988.

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participation in military campaigns, which in the Phoenician case meant dispatching their fleets to support the imperial land forces. Following the collapse of the Hittite Empire (­chapter 30 in volume 3) and the decline of the New Kingdom of Egypt (­chapters 27 and 28 in volume 3) in the twelfth century bc—​two states that had previously dominated the political organization of the Levant—​the early Iron Age was a period of relative independence for the small states on the eastern Mediterranean coast. However, there are almost no sources from this period, due to the fact that Levantine polities are no longer mentioned in the textual documentation of their neighbors. The history of this period is therefore difficult to reconstruct, which is all too obvious in the case of Byblos. In contrast to the once-​flourishing harbor of Ugarit, it seems that this city, and more generally the region under consideration in this chapter, suffered neither major destruction nor disruptive social upheaval, and the results of archaeological exploration suggest that cultural and political continuity prevailed. The yearly military campaigns of the Assyrian kings, duly recorded in their royal annals and dated internally by regnal and eponym years (­chapter 40 in this volume), provide the best chronological framework for the history of the Phoenician cities.110 The original driving force behind the Assyrian interest in the region was the quest for timber, especially cedar, which brought the Assyrian kings first to the Amanus range, and then further south to the Lebanon mountains. The earliest evidence for this pursuit dates to the reign of Tiglath-​pileser I (1114–​ 1076 bc), whose inscriptions report an expedition to the Mediterranean Sea and Mount Lebanon in 1111 bc. According to this account, the monarch went to the Lebanon mountains, where he had timber transported back to his capital city of Assur for the construction of the temple dedicated to the gods Anu and Adad; he then continued to the “land of Amurru,” which he conquered, receiving tribute from Byblos, Sidon, and Arwad; and he finally visited Arwad, where he took to the sea and sailed to Ṣimirra (modern Tell Kazel), killing a beast while en route

110. Lamprichs 1995; Fales 2017.

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(section 47.4.2).111 No further Assyrian campaigns are attested in the region for the next two centuries. It was not until the ninth century bc, during the reigns of Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc) and (especially) Shalmaneser III (858–​ 824 bc), that the Assyrians started regularly conducting military expeditions to exact tribute from the Levantine polities, and as a result, the names of some local rulers were mentioned in the Assyrian sources. The text engraved on the so-​called Kurkh Monolith describes a coalition of twelve kings on the Levantine coast against Shalmaneser, eleven of whom are identified by name. The most powerful were Adda-​idri/​Hadad-​ezer of Damascus, Irhulenu/​Urhilina of Hamath, and Ahab of Israel (called Sir’alaya, “the Sir’alean” in the Assyrian text).112 This inscription provides exceptionally detailed information for one particular moment in the history of the Levantine kingdoms, including the Phoenician city-​states. All of these kings gathered to confront Shalmaneser at the Battle of Qarqar on the Orontes plain (chapter 39 in this volume). While the Assyrian ruler proclaimed a great victory, his forces apparently withdrew without taking any booty, which shows that the allies had succeeded in halting his advance in the region beyond the Euphrates, the traditional western frontier of Assyria. The old age and death of Shalmaneser and the resultant succession conflicts marked a period of internal instability for the Assyrian Empire, followed by a temporary withdrawal from the Levant, but the reign of Adad-​nerari III (810–​783 bc) marked the empire’s return to the Mediterranean with a largely ceremonial visit in 802 bc,113 albeit this did not imply lasting political control over the region. The ascension to the Assyrian throne of Tiglath-​pileser III in 845 bc represented the turning point. From then on, the empire was no longer satisfied with levying tribute, but annexed entire polities as provinces, and the Assyrian presence in the Levant was henceforth permanent. Officially, the Phoenician kingdoms remained independent and retained their

111. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 16−25. 112. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 89−95. 113. Siddall 2013: 40–​41, 67–​68.

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kings. In fact, they were closely monitored and the Assyrian administration did not hesitate to play one city-​state off against another. In the late eighth century bc, during the reign of Sennacherib (704–​681 bc), and in the seventh century, under Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc) and Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc), the Phoenician polities were thus in a state of vassalage, paying annual tribute and putting their fleets at the service of the Assyrian Empire as required. Moreover, when they tried to shake off the Assyrian yoke, they bore the brunt of the empire’s military aggression. The fall of Nineveh in 612 bc and the disintegration of the Assyrian Empire provided only a short respite since the subsequent Neo-​Babylonian Empire immediately launched its own military expeditions toward the Levant under Nabopolassar (625–​605 bc) and continued this initiative under Nebuchadnezzar II (604–​562 bc), ensuring its domination (­chapter 50 in volume 5). Following the fall of Babylon in 539 bc to Cyrus the Great (559–​530 bc), the Phoenician coast therefore became part of the influence sphere of the Persian Empire. As before, the Phoenician cities retained their nominally independent status and their kings remained in place, even if they were subject to the Persian kings (­chapter 60 in volume 5). It is within this framework of a Phoenician world with borders that are difficult to define that the history of the Phoenician cities during the Iron Age is outlined in the following, proceeding from north to south.

47.4.  The northern Phoenician cities The first part of our survey of the Phoenician cities deals with settlements on the Mediterranean coast from Mount Zaphon (modern Jebel Aqra) in the north down to the northern reaches of the Lebanon mountain range and the Akkar Plain, which is today situated in the northernmost part of the modern state of Lebanon.

47.4.1.  The Syrian coastal plain from Gabala to Mount Zaphon As noted before, the northern limit of the Phoenician world is difficult to define. According to Herodotus, Phoenicia extended all the way to

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the Gulf of Iskenderun (ancient Gulf of Alexandretta).114 However, since the inscriptions of Arwad (section 47.4.2) are the most northerly Phoenician texts found along the eastern Mediterranean coast, there are no extant local sources available that would allow us to determine which language was used in that northern region. Several kingdoms centered around a small city are occasionally mentioned in the Assyrian royal inscriptions in the accounts of military expeditions undertaken in the ninth and eighth centuries bc. Siyanu (modern Tell Sianu), located east of modern Jableh and north of Tartus, was already attested as a small, independent state in the Late Bronze Age texts from Ugarit.115 In the mid-​ninth century bc, Siyanu’s king was Adoni-​Ba‘al (in Assyrian texts, Adunu-​Ba‘al), whose name is of a typical Phoenician type. He participated in the coalition of Levantine kings that confronted the army of Shalmaneser III of Assyria in 853 bc at the Battle of Qarqar and brought a large contingent consisting of thirty chariots and several thousand men.116 In 738 bc, Siyanu appeared again in a list of toponyms in connection with the annexation of the Syrian coastal plain into the Assyrian Empire under Tiglath-​pileser III.117 While the excavations on Tell Sianu, carried out by a Syrian team, did not reveal any trace of the first centuries of the first millennium bc, they unearthed a citadel and a small sanctuary assigned to the “Late Phoenician period” (conventionally dated as the fifth century to 146 bc), and traced occupation levels across the entire site.118 South of Siyanu lies Suksu (modern Tell Sukas),119 which once formed the southern limit of the Late Bronze Age kingdom of Ugarit, but this place is not mentioned in the written

114. Hdt. 4.38. 115. For Siyanu under the control of Ugarit and its eventual secession, see Lackenbacher 2002: 130–​144. 116. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 94. 117. Several mentions in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III: e.g., Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: ii 10. 118. Al-​Maqdissi 2016. 119. Abou-​Assaf 1997.

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sources of the first millennium bc. Archaeological excavations have revealed that the site had close contacts with the Greek world, as attested by an abundance of Greek ceramics.120 Gabala (modern Jableh) is also attested in the Assyrian sources, but it is difficult to distinguish from Gubla/​Byblos, except in cases where the route taken by the Assyrian forces is clear.121 Obviously, the names of the two cities have the same origin. It has sometimes been suggested that it was this northern city that took part in the Battle of Qarqar,122 but this is difficult to ascertain. Further south lies the city-​state of Usnu (also called Usanatu in the Assyrian sources). This place, but not its king, is mentioned as having provided a small contingent of 200 men to the coalition against Shalmaneser III in 853 bc.123 Under Tiglath-​pileser III, Usnu was integrated into the Assyrian Empire and settled with deportees from western Iran and from Aramean tribes in Babylonia.124 Much further north, in the Orontes estuary and near Mount Zaphon, lies the site of Al-​Mina. The ancient name of the site is not certain, but it has recently been identified with Ahtâ, “the trade emporium on the seashore, the royal storehouse,” as mentioned in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III.125 Al-​Mina’s abundant finds of Proto-​Geometric Greek ceramics from ca. 750 bc onward has led scholars to consider it an important site of contact and trade between Greek merchants and the Assyrian Empire.126 Prior to the integration of this region into the Assyrian Empire in 738 bc under Tiglath-​pileser, the settlement would

120. Ploug 1973. 121. This is, e.g., the case for the campaign of Tiglath-​pileser III; see Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 42: l. 2; no. 43: ii 16. 122. Elayi 2009: 55. 123. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 93. 124. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 14: l. 6 (and parallels). 125. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: ii 12′−13′. For the identification with Ahtâ, see Radner and Vacek 2020. 126. For a recent review of the discussion, with previous literature, see Radner and Vacek 2020: 132–​157.

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have been part of the kingdom of Falastin/​Patin (­chapter 46 in this volume), and not of a Phoenician polity.127 In sum, the northernmost Phoenician sites are difficult to grasp and almost impossible to characterize. They did not participate in the westward expansion, nor did they leave any epigraphic traces that could confirm that the Phoenician language was even used there, even if this appears likely. These cities were cut off from the Syrian hinterland by the Jebel Ansariyah, and the coastal road leading through this area seems to have been of secondary importance compared to the route along the Orontes, which was the major connection between the Assyrian Empire and the Levant. It was via the Homs Gap, the easiest passage between the Orontes valley and the coast, that the Assyrians reached the Mediterranean. The cities and principalities on the Akkar Plain therefore played an important strategic role in the first millennium bc.

47.4.2. Arwad The city of Arwad (Greek Arados, modern Al-​Ruad) is located on an island about 2.5 km off the coast,128 exhibiting a characteristic Phoenician settlement pattern that is also found further south at Tyre and elsewhere in the Mediterranean. It was the first Phoenician city encountered by the Assyrians during their westward expansion, and it is in fact only in the Assyrian annals that its history in the early first millennium bc is documented. The only extant Phoenician inscriptions from Arwad are from the Hellenistic and Roman periods, and as the city is located far from the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, the Bible does not contribute any data on its history.129 On the occasion of Tiglath-​pileser I’s expedition to the Mediterranean coast in 1111 bc, the Assyrian king visited Arwad.130 He received tribute

127. Radner and Vacek 2020: 119–​126. 128. Elayi 2015; see also Briquel Chatonnet 2005b. 129. Briquel Chatonnet 1996. 130. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 16–​25; A.0.87.4: ll. 24–​30.

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from that city, as well as from Byblos and Sidon, although he probably did not visit these latter two in person. While at Arwad, Tiglath-​pileser sailed in the “boats of the people of Arwad” to Ṣimirra, during which occasion he killed “a nāhiru, which is called a sea horse.” Although it is ultimately unclear which animal this was, it may well have been a hippopotamus, as these were probably still present in the region, just as they had been in the Bronze Age when they provided most of the ivory used locally.131 That the “people of Arwad,” without naming any king, are mentioned as organizing the Assyrian king’s reception may be compared with letters of Rib-​Hadda of Byblos, as found in the Egyptian state archives of Akhetaten (modern Tell el-​Amarna) in the fourteenth century bc, according to which it was the “men of Arwad” whose ships besieged Byblos and who took an oath against Byblos, together with the kings of Sidon and Ṣimirra.132 All this may suggest that in the second half of the second millennium bc, Arwad was governed not by a monarch but by a council of notables. This may reflect the fact that Arwad’s territory was limited to the island itself, without providing a sufficient territorial base for a royal power.133 It may have been Arwad’s expansion onto the mainland, and its subsequent control of a larger territory, as evidenced by the discovery of necropolises on the mainland,134 that led to the establishment of a monarchy, as later attested in the sources of the first millennium bc. The Assyrians returned to the city under Ashurnasirpal II,135 when Arwad appears in a list of tributaries who brought him silver, gold, tin and bronze, and precious fabrics, as well as monkeys.136 Ashurnasirpal states that he received this tribute at the time when he “washed his weapons in the great sea,” i.e., the Mediterranean. Only Arwad was mentioned 131. Bordreuil and Briquel Chatonnet 2000. 132. Moran 1992: no. 101. 133. Briquel Chatonnet 2000. 134. Elayi and Haykal 1996. 135. Briquel Chatonnet 1997. 136. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2: ll. 26–​31.

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specifically, perhaps because of its distinctive position on an island in the sea. One might suppose that the king visited, or at least saw, Arwad from the coast, without marching down to the more southerly cities. It was only in 853 bc that a king of Arwad is finally mentioned in the extant sources, namely Mattan-​Ba‘al,137 who appears as a member of the anti-​Assyrian coalition against Shalmaneser III in the Battle of Qarqar.138 The Arwad contingent numbered only 200 men and was thus very modest—​perhaps because Arwad was still essentially confined to this one city on its small island, better supplied with sailors than with infantrymen and not capable of mustering many men for a land battle. But the fact that the name of its king is mentioned, which was not the case for other contingents, undoubtedly shows that the Assyrians recognized the importance of Arwad. The narratives concerning later campaigns of Shalmaneser III do not mention the city by name and, unlike Tyre and Sidon, Arwad did not pay tribute in 841 bc.139 In 802 bc, Arwad was mentioned in the inscriptions of Adad-​nerari III in connection with a “lordly image” of himself, presumably a stele, that he erected there “in the middle of the sea.”140 As emphasized before, the campaign of Tiglath-​pileser III in 738 bc changed the history of the region, as the Assyrian Empire integrated into its provincial system all of northern Syria as far as the Mediterranean coast, including the plain of Akkar, Usnu, and Siyanu (section 47.4.1),141 and hence also the hinterland of Arwad. However, the island city itself is not mentioned, and seems to have avoided annexation. The contemporary king of Arwad, called Mattan-​Ba‘al like his predecessor of more than a century earlier, was the only local ruler to retain his royal title, as we know from a list of tributaries in the inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser.142 Arwad’s successful avoidance of integration can probably be explained 137. Mattan-​Ba‘al is a typical Phoenician name; see Benz 1972: 145, 356–​357. 138. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 94. 139. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.12: l. 29. 140. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.7: ll. 9–​10. For a discussion, see Siddall 2013: 40–​41, 66. 141. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 35: ii 10. 142. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 47: rev. 10′.

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in part by the difficulty of besieging a city situated on an island in the sea, but even more so by the fact that the Assyrian objective to control the regional land routes did not require holding Arwad itself. It will also have been clear that allowing Arwad to continue its maritime trade benefited the Assyrian Empire, and a reference to an Assyrian trading quay (kāru) in a source dated to the 670s may suggest that such agreements were made at this time.143 Despite some hiccups, this mutually agreeable arrangement continued until the fall of the Assyrian Empire. When Sargon II launched a campaign against Cyprus in 709 or 708 bc,144 Arwad’s fleet may have been commandeered for that purpose. In the early seventh century bc, several kings of Arwad are mentioned as tributaries of the Assyrian Empire: Abdi-​Li’ti during the reign of Sennacherib,145 and yet another Mattan-​Ba‘al under Esarhaddon.146 Toward the end of Esarhaddon’s reign, a new king of Arwad, Yakinlû, acted against the interests of the Assyrian Empire and intentionally subverted the trading arrangements to his own profit, as shown by a letter from Itti-​Šamaš-​balaṭu, the Assyrian delegate at Arwad.147 But as the inscriptions of Esarhaddon’s son and successor Ashurbanipal demonstrate, Yakinlû nevertheless kept his throne: when this Assyrian king campaigned against Tyre ca. 662 bc, he was among those regional rulers who paid homage and accepted Ashurbanipal’s sovereignty, traveling to Nineveh for that purpose and placing their daughters at the royal court “to serve as housekeepers.”148 After Yakinlû died, his three sons went to

143. Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 127: l. 20: ka-​a-​ru ša KUR.aš-​šur.KI. 144. Radner 2010; for the Cyprus Stele of Sargon II, which was set up on the island on that occasion, see Malbran-​Labat 2004; Frame 2021: no. 130. 145. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 140: obv. 19. 146. Leichty 2011: 23: no. 1: l. 60. 147. Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 127. Another fragmentary letter by the same author seems to concern the same events, mentioning again merchants that would systematically scare this whistle-​blower who is very eager to be released from this dangerous posting, using phrases paralleling the first letter: Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: no. 128. 148. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 63−72.

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Nineveh where Ashurbanipal appointed his son Azi-​Ba‘al as his successor, while his brothers Abi-​Ba‘al and Aduni-​Ba‘al were kept as honored guests, and simultaneously hostages, at Ashurbanipal’s court,149 a common practice that allowed the Assyrian sovereign to maintain control over his client kings. As a consequence, most of Azi-​Ba‘al of Arwad’s direct relatives, both male and female, lived at the imperial court of Nineveh. The fact that Arwad formally retained its independence and its royal house—​at a time when the polities along the Syrian coast were annexed as Assyrian provinces and also later, despite committing acts of treason against the empire—​emphasizes its particular status. Protected by the sea, the island city was also useful to the empire as a place of trade, and a formal Assyrian trading quay seems to have existed there. Furthermore, Arwad could provide a fleet for the needs of the Assyrian Empire, and it was thus preferable to grant Arwad a certain level of autonomy. After the fall of the Assyrian Empire, Arwad disappears from the available cuneiform sources, and particularly is not mentioned in the Babylonian documentation. According to Pseudo-​Scylax, Arwad/​Arados formed an extended city that integrated some smaller settlements on the mainland.150 Situated on the coast just opposite of Arwad, the site of Tell Ghamqa (probably ancient Enhydra) was part of this settlement complex, as was the place known as MRT (Greek Marathos, modern Amrit), further south.151 Later, Amrit was famous for its healing sanctuary dedicated to the god Melqart, which was excavated between 1955–​1957 and dates to the sixth century bc:152 the unique building consisted of a covered portico that surrounded a large water basin, fed by a sacred spring, in the center of which a small cube-​shaped cella was raised. The extended necropolises served also to bury the people of Arwad, and contained some monumental burial towers.153

149. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 75−86. 150. Lipiński 2004: 272–​279. 151. Al-​Maqdissi and Ishac 2016. 152. Dunand and Saliby 1985. 153. Al-​Maqdissi and Benech 2009: 209.

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47.4.3.  Ṣimirra To the south of Arwad lay the city of Ṣimirra (also Ṣumur; Greek Simyra), which can be identified with Tell Kazel,154 a vast fortified site occupied since at least the Middle Bronze Age. Since its conquest by Pharaoh Thutmose III (1479–​1425 bc), Ṣimirra served as an Egyptian fortress, a fulcrum for the New Kingdon’s domination of the northern Levant, paralleling Megiddo’s function in the south. In the fourteenth century bc, the city became the capital of the kingdom of Amurru, formally a client state of Egypt but unreliably so and prone to playing complex local power games, notably against Byblos.155 Ṣimirra’s position in the region was much less prominent during the first millennium bc, although it was probably a member of the coalition that confronted Shalmaneser III of Assyria at the Battle of Qarqar in 853 bc. Listed after Byblos (or perhaps Gabala; see section 47.4.1) and before Arqa (written Irqanatu), the text of the so-​called Kurkh Monolith mentions a contingent of 1,000 men of KUR.mu-​uṣ-​ra-​a-​a, which means “the Egyptian.”156 However, it is much more likely that this is a scribal error and that the reference is to the ruler of Ṣimirra (due to metathesis, i.e., the transposition of the first two consonants of the toponym).157 It is certainly true that a contingent of a thousand fighters would be a perfectly respectable contribution for the city-​state Ṣimirra, but a very meager one for a ruler of Egypt (whoever that may have been at the time).158

154. For a general survey, see Badre 2016, and for the more recent discoveries, see Badre 2013 (with bibliography). 155. Klengel 1984; Goren et al. 2003. 156. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 92. 157. This correction was suggested by Lemaire 1993, but was ignored in Grayson’s 1996 edition. 158. Kitchen 1996: 325 attributed the participation in the Battle of Qarqar to Osorkon II of the Twenty-​second Dynasty, based on his reconstruction of the chronology, which was generally accepted. See recently Morkot 2018: 134.

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As cities, Arwad and Ṣimirra had very different characteristics.159 Arwad was a typical Phoenician city, situated on an island, although it gradually expanded its territory to the mainland. Its power and the interest it held for the Assyrian Empire were based on the easy access that it provided to the Mediterranean Sea. It was allowed its continuing independence and royal house, albeit with the checks and balances in place: the foundation of an Assyrian trading quay was built there, and many members of its royal family lived as hostages at the imperial court (section 47.4.2). Ṣimirra, on the other hand, was located inland at a short distance away from the sea. Already occupying a high settlement mound in the Iron Age, it had a dominant position in the Akkar Plain. Although it probably had a port at the mouth of the Nahr el-​Abrash, Ṣimirra was a much more land-​based city, with an agricultural hinterland, and it occupied a key location for controlling the road network, particularly the route that ran parallel to the coast and the route leading from the Orontes valley through the Homs Gap to the sea. Hence, the two close neighbors’ fortunes waxed and waned, with one city gaining influence as the other lost it, and vice versa. In the first millennium bc, access to the sea played a key role for the Phoenician cities on the coast, and hence Arwad had the more important role of the two. With the conquest and integration of the coastal region into the Assyrian Empire under Tiglath-​pileser III in 738 bc, control over the overland routes became a major issue, and therefore Ṣimirra had to be brought under direct imperial domination. Tiglath-​pileser’s inscriptions consequently list it among the annexed cities,160 and its inhabitants were deported to various places in the Assyrian Empire and, as in Usnu (section 47.4.1), were replaced by deportees from western Iran and from various Aramean tribes active in Babylonia.161 Ṣimirra became the capital of the Assyrian province of the same name, which took up the southwestern parts of the former kingdom of Hamath,162 and its governor was an 159. As discussed by Briquel Chatonnet 2005. 160. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 46: l. 22. 161. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 14: ll. 5–​6; see also no. 26: l. 5. 162. Radner 2008: 62, no. 60.

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important figure in the empire: during the reign of Sennacherib, Ṣimirra’s governor Iddin-​ahhe served as the year eponym of 688 bc.163 Like Arwad, the city is not mentioned in the sources of the Neo-​Babylonian Empire.

47.4.4. Arqa The city of Arqa (also Irqata/​Irqanatu; modern Tell Arqa in Lebanon) was located in the southern part of the Akkar Plain, while Ṣimirra was situated in its north. Arqa participated in the Battle of Qarqar of 853 bc as part of the anti-​Assyrian coalition against the forces of Shalmaneser III. Its contingent of ten chariots and 10,000 troops was impressive:164 while its infantry contribution matched that of the much larger kingdoms of Hamath and Israel, Arqa was the only polity to provide any chariots, other than these two states and the powerful kingdom of Damascus—​a clear sign of the wealth of the city-​state during the ninth century bc. Like Ṣimirra and the other Syrian polities, Arqa was annexed by Tiglath-​pileser III in 738 bc.165 The excavations of Tell Arqa have brought to light much information for the settlement’s Bronze Age occupation levels and also the late periods are well represented, but the remains from the Iron Age excavated thus far are very limited,166 and hardly match the impression gained from the Assyrian inscriptions. However, a jar was found with a Phoenician inscription, which confirms that the city was populated by Phoenician speakers.167

47.5.  The central Phoenician cities The second part of our survey of the Phoenician cities deals with settlements on the coast of modern Lebanon from Batrun to the region of Beirut. 163. Kwasman and Parpola 1991: nos. 66–​69. 164. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 92. 165. E.g., Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 49: rev. 1. 166. Thalmann 1990. 167. Bordreuil 1977.

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47.5.1. Batrun At the time of the Eighteenth Dynasty of the New Kingdom and according to the Amarna Letters, Batrun was a small city, initially dependent on Byblos, which was situated to its south, and later conquered by the kingdom of Amurru. Batrun is not mentioned in the Assyrian sources, although it is possible that it should be identified with the toponym Bitirume in a list of “cities in the environs of Sidon” at the time of that polity’s integration into the Assyrian Empire in the inscriptions of Esarhaddon.168 While we do not know what the city’s status was in the Iron Age, Batrun was (re)founded by Itho-​Ba‘al of Tyre, a contemporary of Ahab of Israel, according to Flavius Josephus.169 If this late testimony can be accepted, the fact that Tyre would have expanded its sphere of influence to the region north of Byblos in the second quarter of the ninth century bc is noteworthy.

47.5.2. Byblos The history of Byblos in the Iron Age is both better documented and yet more elusive than that of the southern cities.170 The Egyptian composition known as the “Account of Wenamun” is preserved on a papyrus in hieratic script.171 Although it cannot be seen as an authentic travel report, this literary text provides exceptional insight into the city and kingdom of Byblos during the relatively obscure period toward the end of the second millennium bc, but while the narrative contains historical elements, these are difficult to contextualize in specific

168. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 4; no. 6: ii 28′: URU.bi-​ti-​ru-​me. 169. Joseph. AJ 8.324, according to Menander of Ephesus. The name mentioned is Botrys. 170. Abu Abdullah 2018 (to use with caution). 171. Papyrus Pushkin 120. For the edition, see Caminos 1977; for discussion, see Schipper 2005; and for an accessible translation, see Lichtheim 1976: 224–​230.

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moments in time.172 According to the story, Wenamun was a priest of the temple of Amun in Thebes, whom the high priest sent to procure cedar wood for the construction of the god’s barge. After many adventures, he eventually arrived at Byblos. After keeping Wenamun waiting for more than a month, Zakar-​Ba‘al, the king of Byblos,173 made sacrifices to the gods, whereupon one of his priests instructed him, in a state of ecstasy, to grant the Theban an audience. As a consequence, Zakar-​Ba‘al received Wenamun in an upper room of the palace, the window of which had a view of the sea. When Wenamun asked for the timber to be supplied, the king of Byblos produced documents from the archives (language, script, and medium of which are not specified), which proved to his satisfaction that previous cedar shipments had always been paid for. After nearly a year, Wenamun finally left Byblos with his timber, but was blown off-​course to Cyprus. Here the story abruptly ends, as the only known manuscript is fragmentary. The Account of Wenamun illustrates the traditional links between Byblos and Egypt that date back to the fourth millennium bc, as well as the newfound independence of Byblos, whose king made an envoy of the god Amun of Thebes wait for an audience. While it must remain unclear whether the narrative reflects conditions in the late second or the early first millennium bc, the story’s details offer vivid glimpses on life at Byblos and its royal court. In 1111 bc, Tiglath-​pileser I of Assyria received tribute from Byblos during his (previously discussed) visit to Arwad (section 47.4.2).174 Byblos was the only kingdom on the Phoenician coast whose kings are attested in the small corpus of extant local Phoenician inscriptions dating to the Iron Age II. Although this corpus constitutes an internally consistent group, they are difficult to relate to a broader chronological

172. Sass 2002 argued that this testimony refers to the reign of Sheshonq I, but this is debated. 173. Although this seems somewhat far-​fetched, it has been proposed that this Zakar-​Ba‘al of Byblos can be identified with Zakar-​Ba‘al of Amurru, whose name is inscribed in alphabetic script on two arrowheads: Abu Abdallah 2018: 22–​27. On the first of these arrows, see Starcky 1982. 174. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: ll. 16–​25; A.0.87.4: ll. 24–​30; see also section 47.4.2.

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framework. On the one hand, there is the funerary inscription on the sarcophagus of King Aḥi-​rom (figure 47.10), written by his son [‘I]t-​ Ba‘al,175 who, however, did not himself bear the title of king, and, on the other hand, there are a series of dedicatory inscriptions to the local goddess Ba‘alat Gubal associated with four successive kings: Yeḥi-​milk, founder of the dynasty; his son Eli-​Ba‘al; and the latter’s son Šipti-​Ba‘al; as well as Abi-​Ba‘al, whose patronymic is lost but who is thought to have been the older son of Yeḥi-​milk, preceding Eli-​Ba‘al as king of Byblos. The funerary inscription on behalf of Aḥi-​rom is certainly the oldest text of the group, for it presents archaic features in both spelling and language that are not found in the inscriptions of the Yeḥi-​milk dynasty.176 Its dating is a matter of controversy, however. First attributed to the Late Bronze Age (largely because of the other materials found in the burial pit), it was then dated to ca. 1000 bc or the tenth century bc.177 Two of the inscriptions of the Yeḥi-​milk dynasty are carved into stone sculptures bearing the hieroglyphic inscriptions of two Egyptian rulers of the Twenty-​second Dynasty (­chapter 35 in this volume). The inscription of Abi-​Ba‘al was inscribed on a statue of Sheshonq I (943–​922 bc),178 while that of Eli-​Ba‘al, son of Yeḥi-​milk, was inscribed on a bust bearing the cartouche and Horus name of Osorkon I (922–​887 bc; figure 47.11).179 These hieroglyphic inscriptions thus provide, by the date of the

175. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 1; see also Rehm 2004 (sarcophagus) and Lehmann 2005 (inscription). The traditional reading of the name of the son as [‘I]t-​Ba‘al is preferable to the recent proposal by Lehmann 2015 to restore [Pul]si-​Ba‘al, by reading the first sign after the break as a samekh, as this is not convincing in view of the available photographs and moreover results in a name that is not attested elsewhere. 176. These Archaic features include the absence of an article; the presence of verbal forms with an infix /​t/​that are attested in the second millennium bc, notably in the Ugaritic language, but are absent in Phoenician in the first millennium; and the third person singular suffix pronoun with an /​h/​noted and thus still pronounced. For the emergence of monumental alphabetic writing at Byblos, see Sass 2017. 177. Albright 1947. 178. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 5. 179. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 6.

Figure 47.10.  The sarcophagus of Aḥi-​rom, king of Byblos, as displayed in the Beirut National Museum in August 1936. Note the Phoenician alphabetic inscription running along the length of the sarcophagus lid. Photograph by Matson Photo Service. From the G. Eric and Edith Matson Photograph Collection in the United States Library of Congress’s Prints and Photographs division, Washington, DC. (https://​hdl.loc.gov/​loc.pnp/​matpc.03491). Public Domain.

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ascension to the throne of the respective pharaoh, an absolute terminus post quem for the texts of the two rulers of Byblos. However, there is no strong reason to assume that the Phoenician inscriptions were added at the beginning of, or even during, a pharaoh’s reign, and therefore it remains uncertain whether Abi-​Ba‘al should in fact be inserted before Eli-​Ba‘al in the sequence of the kings of Byblos—​a reconstruction that is based on the sequence of Sheshonq I and Osorkon I. Recently, Benjamin Sass has suggested that the Aḥi-​rom inscription should be dated much later than the tenth century bc,180 citing mainly the evidence of the accompanying reliefs, which belie Assyrian stylistic influence.181 If correct, then this text and also the Yeḥi-​milk dynasty inscriptions would have to be dated to the period between the early ninth and the mid-​eighth centuries bc, in agreement with his reconstruction of the development of alphabetic writing. Sass argues that the appropriation of Egyptian royal monuments by local kings is more likely to have occurred after a certain interval of time had passed, rather than during or close to the reign of the Egyptian ruler in question, while André Lemaire pointed out that these royal sculptures could well have been dedicated to the temple of Ba‘alat Gubal during the lifetime of the respective pharaohs.182 As for the script, some Aramaic and Moabite monumental inscriptions can be dated with reasonable certainty to the second half of the ninth century bc because of synchronisms with Assyrian sources or the Bible, notably the inscriptions of Hazael and Bar-​Hadad of Damascus; of Mesha of Moab; of Zakkur of Hamath; and of Hadad-​ys‘i of Guzana; and these use an alphabet that appears less archaic than that of the Byblos inscriptions.183 If one accepts the dating proposed by Sass, this would require one to assume that an archaic script was used at Byblos. As the kings mentioned in these inscriptions are not attested in the Assyrian sources, it is impossible to decide the matter of

180. Sass 2005. 181. So already Porada 1973; Wallenfels 1983. 182. Lemaire 2006. 183. Cf. Naveh 1982.

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Figure 47.11.  Bust of Osorkon I from Byblos, with the Phoenician inscription of Eli-​Ba‘al, son of Yeḥi-​milk. Louvre, AO 9502. Photograph by author.

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their dating conclusively. While several kings of Phoenician principalities are mentioned by name in the Assyrian account of the Battle of Qarqar as participating in the coalition against Shalmaneser III in 853 bc, the name of the king of Byblos is not given,184 and therefore it is possible that the ruler in question is to be identified with one of the individuals known from the Byblos inscriptions. Although a dating between the mid-tenth and the early ninth century bc remains the most probable scenario, the debate illustrates the difficulties one may encounter when attempting to combine the different bodies of sources available to us into a cohesive narrative, and this closely mirrors the challenges in compiling the history of the northern Syrian and southern Anatolian polities (­chapter 46 in this volume). From the ninth century bc onward, the history of Byblos, like that of its neighbors, was shaped by interactions with the Assyrian Empire. The king of Byblos was among those Levantine rulers who brought tribute to Ashurnasirpal II when he visited the Mediterranean coast to clean his weapons and sacrifice to his gods, at some point between 875 bc and 867 bc.185 In 853 bc, at the Battle of Qarqar, the previously mentioned contingent dispatched from Byblos against Shalmaneser III was fairly modest, consisting of only 500 men.186 While Shalmaneser’s forces passed through the hinterland of Byblos in later campaigns, the city itself was apparently not affected. Nor was it mentioned in accounts of campaigns in the early eighth century bc, notably the visit of Adad-​nerari III to the Mediterranean coast (section 47.4.2). The city is not mentioned again in the Assyrian sources until the conquest of Tiglath-​pileser III in 738 bc. Although the northern Syrian coast including the northern Phoenician cities as far as Arqa (section 47.4.4) were integrated into the provincial system of the Assyrian empire, Byblos was spared, and its king Šipti-​Ba‘al (a namesake of the grandson of Yeḥi-​milk) remained on the throne as an Assyrian client ruler with the obligation to pay tribute.187 184. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.2: ii 92. Moreover, the reference to the 500 troops of KUR.gu-​-​a-​a may refer to Gabala rather than Byblos; see section 47.4.1. 185. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2: ll. 26–​31. See also ­chapter 37 in this volume. 186. Grayson 1996: 23: A.0.102.2: ii 92. 187. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 14: l. 11.

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Thereafter, several kings of Byblos went to the imperial court to demonstrate their fealty to the Assyrian monarch by kissing his feet and delivering their tribute in person, including Uri-​milk (in the Assyrian text, Uru-​milki) under Sennacherib,188 and Milk-​yasap (in the Assyrian text, Milki-​ašapa) under Esarhaddon,189 and also under Ashurbanipal, on the occasion of the Assyrian king’s campaign against Egypt in 667 bc.190 After the fall of the Assyrian Empire, Byblos disappeared from the cuneiform sources—​like many other Phoenician cities. Together with the Syrian coast and the inner territories as far as Carchemish on the Euphrates, Byblos must have come under control of the Saite Dynasty of Egypt before Nebuchadnezzar II (604–​562 bc) conquered the region and annexed it to the Neo-​Babylonian Empire (­chapter 50 in volume 5). Byblos probably remained a tributary kingdom, since kings of Byblos are attested again in the period of the Persian Empire (­chapter 60 in volume 5) The extensive excavations at Byblos, conducted over many years by Ernest Renan (1864–​1874) and later Pierre Montet and Maurice Dunand (1920–​1924), revealed almost no Iron Age remains, apart from the already mentioned artifacts with alphabetic inscriptions. The burial shaft containing the sarcophagus of Aḥi-​rom dates to the Late Bronze Age and was reused, while the other inscriptions were not found in original context, with the possible exception of that of Šipti-​Ba‘al.191 Byblos does not seem to have participated in the westward expansion, which mainly involved Tyre and Sidon (section 47.2.6), and the Assyrians did not call upon Byblos when they needed ships. However, three Phoenician inscriptions from the early Hellenistic period, found at Larnaca tis Lapithou on the northern coast of Cyprus,192 exhibit some peculiarities compared to the rest of the Phoenician-​language

188. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: l. 36; and parallels. 189. Leichty 2011: no. 1: v 59; no. 5: viii 11′. 190. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 6: ii 33′; no. 7: ii 4′. 191. Dunand 1945: 146–​151, pl. XVb. 192. Donner and Röllig 2002: nos. 42−43 and Honeyman 1938. For a discussion of these texts, see Peckham 2014: 158–​160.

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text corpus from that island, including linguistic features characteristic of the inscriptions from Byblos,193 as well as the reference to “the gods of Byblos who are in Lapethos” among the deities to whom one of the monuments was dedicated.194 The latter recalls the inscription of Yeḥi-​ milk of Byblos,195 where the “assembly of the holy gods of Byblos” (mpḥt ’l gbl qdšm) is mentioned, and may suggest links between this city and northern Cyprus, whereas the southern Phoenician cities had established their presence on the southern part of Cyprus, notably at Kition. The first known Phoenician king of Lapethos is attested on coinage from the Persian period,196 but this has no bearing on the date of the earliest Phoenician settlement in this region, nor does it shed any light on the role played by Byblos.

47.5.3.  Beirut and Hildua In the second half of the second millennium bc, the city of Beirut is attested in the Amarna Letters (written Beruta) and in Ugaritic texts (written Bi’ruti).197 In the extant Iron Age sources, the only attestations for Beirut (as Bi’ru) are found in the inscriptions of Esarhaddon in a list of “cities in the environs of Sidon” that also included Bitirume (section 47.5.1) at the time of that polity’s integration into the Assyrian Empire.198 The same list also includes Hildua, which may well correspond to modern Khaldah, the site of the airport of Beirut, where an Iron Age necropolis has been excavated.199 193. Such as the use of -​w as the pronoun suffix of the third-​person masculine singular: Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 43: l. 11. 194. Honeyman 1938. 195. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 4. 196. Destrooper 2011; Cannavò 2021. 197. Amarna Letters: Moran 1992: nos. 92, 101, 114, 118, 138, 142, 143; letters from Beirut: nos. 136–​ 138, 141–​ 143; Ugarit: Lackenbacher and Malbran-​ Labat 2016: 102–​105. 198. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 3; no. 6: ii 27′: URU.bi-​i’-​ru-​u. 199. Saidah 1966. The data are still only partially published.

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Beirut probably ceased to be an independent kingdom by the end of the Late Bronze Age,200 since it is not listed among those cities that offered presents to Tiglath-​pileser I in 1111 bc (section 47.3.2) or in any role of prominence in other Assyrian sources. Its territory had probably already been absorbed into the kingdom of Sidon at that time. In Beirut itself, excavations undertaken in the city center after the civil war have revealed successive fortifications, including those dating to the Phoenician period, as well as storage rooms full of jars, confirming the occupation of the settlement in the early first millennium bc.201

47.6.  The southern Phoenician cities The third part of our survey of the Phoenician cities concerns the southern settlements from Sidon in modern Lebanon to Mount Carmel and the city of Dor on the coast of modern Israel. For the most part, the westward expansion was undertaken by Sidon and Tyre. Although their history from the early Iron Age period to the time of the Persian conquest is sometimes difficult to reconstruct, regular interaction with the Assyrians meant that both principalities are frequently mentioned in the Assyrian textual sources. For Tyre, we also have the king list transmitted by Menander of Ephesus via Flavius Josephus, although questions remain about its reliability (section 47.3.1). Evidence of the Phoenician presence outside the coastal cities almost always pertains to these southern polities. Thus, a stele found at Breij, near Aleppo, depicting the god Melqart, was dedicated by a king of Arpad in the eighth century bc.202 A dedicatory inscription in Aramaic to the divine protector of Tyre, commissioned by an Aramean ruler, is a curiosity, suggesting a close relationship between this king and the city of Tyre, or perhaps the presence of Tyrian merchants in Arpad,

200. Vidal 2005. 201. Badre 1996. 202. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 201; Younger 2016: 533–​535.

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presumably in the city of Aleppo. Further north, the use of Phoenician by King Kulamuwa at his capital city of Sam’al (modern Zincirlı),203 by King Azatiwada in the very long bilingual inscription found at his city of Azatiwadaya (modern Karatepe),204 and in the inscriptions of Ivriz, Cineköy, Hasanbeyli, and Cebelireis Dağı,205 all demonstrate the use of the Phoenician language and alphabet among Anatolian groups whose culture was greatly influenced by post-​Hittite traditions (­chapter 46 in this volume). The type of Phoenician used in these sources, as well as in the inscription on a box found at Ur in southern Babylonia,206 was from the southern Phoenician regions, not from Byblos. The same is true of the inscriptions found in the Mediterranean region, e.g., on the “Seville Statue” of Aštart from El Carambolo in Spain.207 As for the later so-​called Punic form of the language, as used in the communities established in the western Mediterranean, it too correlates closely with the Phoenician of the southern zone. Legend links the foundation of Carthage to a Tyrian princess named Elissa,208 and dates this event to 825 or 814 bc, which is broadly corroborated by the site’s archaeology. Additionally, Carthage always claimed a relationship with Tyre, especially when it was besieged by Alexander the Great.209 Melqart, the divine master of Tyre, was the protector of the Phoenician colonial settlements throughout the Mediterranean.210 Yet the god whose temple dominated the city of Carthage on the hill of Byrsa was Ešmun, whose principal center of worship was Sidon. Ešmun and Melqart,

203. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 24. 204. For this longest known Phoenician inscription, see Röllig in Çambel 1999. 205. On the role of the Phoenician language and script in Cilicia, see Lemaire 2001; Yakubovich 2015. 206. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 29. 207. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 294; see also section 47.2.5. 208. Just. Epit. 18.4−6, also Timaeus of Tauromenium and Menander of Ephesus; see Dridi 2006. 209. Curt. 4.2.10. 210. Bonnet 1988.

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alongside Ba‘al, are the divine elements that were most commonly attested in Carthaginian personal names,211 which were overwhelmingly theophoric. While Tyrian influence at Carthage is obvious, Sidon too seems to have played a prominent role in shaping its cultural identity. What was the relationship between Tyre and Sidon at the time of the westward expansion? This is one of the most intensively debated questions concerning the history of the Phoenician cities during the Iron Age. Certain correlations in royal names have suggested to some scholars that the two kingdoms may have been united under a single monarchy between the ninth and eighth centuries bc.212 The first piece of possible evidence for this is the title of “Eth-​Ba‘al, king of the Sidonians.” According to the Bible, Eth-​Ba‘al was a contemporary of Ahab of Israel,213 and he conceivably corresponds to the Itho-​Ba‘al (Greek Ithobalos) found in the list of the kings of Tyre transmitted by Flavius Josephus.214 In 841 bc, when Jehu of Israel brought tribute to Shalmaneser III after his campaign against Damascus, the different versions of this event in the Assyrian inscriptions refer either to the tribute of Tyre and Sidon,215 or to the tribute of Ba‘al-​manzer of Tyre,216 without mentioning Sidon at all, which might suggest that the two expressions should be considered equivalent. In 738 bc, at the beginning of the reign of Tiglath-​pileser III, the inscriptions mention a king Hiram of Tyre,217 whereas a bronze bowl found on Cyprus bears a dedicatory inscription by the servant of Hiram, king of Sidon.218

211. E.g., Benz 1972: 150–​153 (‘bd’šmn), 155–​161 (‘bdmlqrt). 212. Katzenstein 1973: 129–​131; Briquel Chatonnet 1992: 64–​66. 213. 1 Kgs 16:31. 214. Joseph. AJ 8.13.1−2; Ap. 1.18. 215. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.8: ll. 24′′−27′′; A.0.102.12: 29−30. 216. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.10: iv 10−12. 217. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 32: l. 2; no. 49: rev. 3. 218. Donner and Röllig 2002: no. 31.

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Finally, according to the inscriptions of Sennacherib, Lulî was king of Sidon but ruled over the entire coast as far south as Akhziv (Assyrian Akzibu) and Akko, including especially Ušû, the mainland of Tyre.219 Moreover, in the wall decorations of Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace in Nineveh, he is shown to depart on a boat from a city situated in the middle of the sea, presumably Tyre (figure 47.4; see section 47.2.7).220 All these clues support the suggestion that there was a union between the two kingdoms of Sidon and Tyre, beginning in the reign of Itho-​Ba‘al in the second quarter of the ninth century bc, which came to an end as a consequence of Sennacherib’s campaign to the Levant in 701 bc, after which separate kings are attested at Tyre and Sidon. However, this reconstruction has been challenged by Philip J. Boyes,221 who rightly emphasized the external character and much later composition date of certain sources and suggested that the term “Sidonians” in the external sources was a generic designation for “Phoenicians,” just as it seems to be in the Homeric texts. Yet this fails to explain how the servant of a king of Tyre in the bowl from Cyprus was considered a servant of the king of Sidon. On the other hand, Maroun Khreich correctly stressed that the term “Sidonian” was employed metonymically as a widely used synonym for “Phoenician,”222 and argued that Sidonian supremacy over Tyre began as early as the supposed (re)foundation of Tyre by Sidon, as related by Justin,223 shortly after the migrations of the Late Bronze Age. In this view, the disappearance of an independent kingdom of

219. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: l. 33; and parallels. The territory of Lulî is described as including “Greater Sidon, Lesser Sidon, Bit-​Zitti, Sarepta, Mahalliba, Ušû, Akzibu, and Akko.” 220. This Lulî has often been identified with Eloulaios in Flavius Josephus’s list of the kings of Tyre ( Joseph. AJ 9.284), but Na’aman 2006 has convincingly argued that the reference is to Shalmaneser V of Assyria (726–​722 bc), whose birth name, and Babylonian throne name, was Ululayu. 221. Boyes 2012. 222. Khreich 2018. 223. Just. Epit. 18.3.

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Tyre would thus date to the beginning of the twelfth century bc, and Sidonian domination over Tyre likely lasted until the end of the eighth century bc. In the absence of more explicit sources, questions about the relationship between Tyre and Sidon, and whether they constituted a unified state or not, must remain open. But at the very least, there can be no doubt that both Tyre and Sidon were closely involved in the colonization of the Mediterranean.

47.6.1. Sidon Sidon is well known for its ships from the Amarna Letters of the fourteenth century bc,224 and the aforementioned Account of Wenamun (section 47.5.2) reports that fifty of Sidon’s ships were involved in a trade relationship with Werketer, an Egyptian importer. Recent archaeological investigations have highlighted that the area of the ancient harbor was much larger than had previously been assumed and that it extended under what is now the seafront promenade and the market.225 Archaeological excavations have also demonstrated the continuity of Sidon’s occupation from the Late Bronze Age to the Iron Age and also emphasized its importance in the early Iron Age.226 A sanctuary that already existed in the Late Bronze Age was continuously used throughout the Iron Age, and an inscription on a ceramic vessel mentioning an altar probably dates to the eighth century bc, while a vase bearing the inscription of the Egyptian queen Tausret, who reigned as pharaoh for a time around 1190 bc (­chapter 27 in volume 3), indicates links between Sidon and Egypt. In the Assyrian royal inscriptions, Sidon is first mentioned during the Levantine campaign of Tiglath-​pileser I in 1111 bc, where it is described

224. Moran 1992: nos. 114, 149. For further references, see Moran 1992: 391 (index s.v. Sidon). 225. Marriner et al. 2006. 226. Bordreuil and Doumet-​Serhal 2013; Doumet-​Serhal 2013: 108–​111.

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as paying tribute alongside Arwad and Byblos.227 It is also referred to as offering tribute to Ashurnasirpal II in the account of this king’s campaign to the Mediterranean, undertaken at some point between 875 bc and 867 bc.228 Tellingly, both Sidon and Tyre were absent from the coalition of the Levantine principalities who fought Shalmaneser III at the Battle of Qarqar in 853 bc. It is likely that the two polities, either acting in concert or individually, chose not to participate in this venture as they were not directly threatened. Tribute may have already been delivered to Shalmaneser earlier, as a party of boats laden with tribute is depicted departing from an island city, which must be Tyre, on one of the registers of the bronze bands decorating the monumental gates of Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat; figure 47.12).229 The label accompanying the depiction reads: “I received tribute from the boats of the people of Tyre and Sidon.”230 As we have already discussed (section 47.6), Sidon is said to have paid tribute to Shalmaneser III in 841 bc, at the same time as Jehu king of Israel,231 and again in 838 bc.232 The delivery of tribute from Tyre and Sidon, again without any mention of a king and without any means of determining whether or not it was the same tribute payment, is also attested for the Mediterranean expedition of Adad-​nerari III in 802 bc,233 when the two cities submitted at the same time as Joash of Judah. The reign of Tiglath-​pileser III marked a turning point for the entire region, since it set in motion the gradual annexation of these lands. As discussed before, 738 bc saw the integration into the Assyrian provincial

227. Grayson 1991: A.0.87.3: l. 20. 228. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2: l. 28. 229. For the bronze band, see Schachner 2007: pl. 2 (drawing), pls. 25a–​28a (photographs); for the accompanying cuneiform label, see Grayson 1996: A.0.102.66; cf. also Briquel Chatonnet 1992: 78. 230. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.66. 231. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.8: ll. 24′′−27′′; A.0.102.12: 29−30. 232. Grayson 1996: A.0.102.14: ll. 103−104; A.0.102.16: l. 161′. 233. Grayson 1996: A.0.104.7: l. 8; cf. Siddall 2013: 40–​41, 67–​68.

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system of the entire Syrian coast, including the Akkar Plain. In 732 bc, the annexation was extended to Damascus and the northern parts of the kingdom of Israel, including Megiddo,234 and in ca. 722 bc, Israel’s southern part was incorporated as the Assyrian province of Samaria.235 The small kingdoms on the Phoenician coast, from Byblos to the south, remained formally independent, but were reduced to the status of client states. From then on, their political histories were punctuated by moments of revolt and of submission. A number of letters from the Assyrian governor of Ṣimirra to Tiglath-​pileser throw light on the relationship between Sidon, for which no ruler is mentioned in any of the extant sources, and Tyre and its king (section 47.6.3); it seems clear from these texts that Sidon was dependent on Tyre at the time. Sidon was greatly affected by Sennacherib’s Levantine campaign of 701 bc. At that time, the evidence that Sidon and Tyre were subject to one ruler, namely King Lulî of Sidon (so routinely designated in the Assyrian sources), seems reasonably certain.236 When Sennacherib invaded the kingdom of Sidon, Lulî fled across the sea, apparently from Tyre (cf. figure 47.4), and the Assyrian ruler installed Itho-​Ba‘al (Assyrian spelling: Tu-​Ba‘alu) as the new king on the throne of Sidon.237 Sennacherib seems to have dismembered the united kingdom, and from then onward, there can be no doubt that there were two separate kingdoms of Sidon and Tyre, each with their own king. A quarter of a century later, Abdi-​milkuti of Sidon revolted against Sennacherib’s successor Esarhaddon in 677 bc,238 and the Assyrian Empire’s response was forceful. Sidon was conquered and occupied: its ramparts and palace were destroyed; and its king, who attempted to

234. For the newly established provinces of 732 bc, see Radner 2008: 58, no. 48 (Dimašqa/​Damascus), 58–​61, no. 51 (Haurina), 61, no. 53 (Maggidû/​Megiddo) and no. 56 (Qarnina), 62–​63, no. 61 (Ṣubutu). 235. Radner 2008: 62, no. 59. 236. Boyes 2012. 237. Grayson and Novotny 2014: no. 46: ll. 18−19. 238. Leichty 2011: no. 1: ii 65−82, and parallels; on this episode, see Marti 2014.

Figure 47.12.  Detail of one of the embossed strips of bronze that once held together the cedar planks of a monumental door commissioned by Shalmaneser III at Imgur-​Enlil (modern Balawat), showing how the king and queen of Tyre, standing at the shore of their island city, see off rowing boats laden with tribute and gifts for the king of Assyria. Photo reproduced from King 1915: pl. XIII.

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flee across the sea, was caught and beheaded, while his family and court were deported to Assyria. His treasury was also plundered and material evidence for this looting was found during the excavations at Assur, as two alabaster amphoras were unearthed that bear an inscription of Esarhaddon, stating that they were part of the booty taken from Abdi-​milkuti.239 The city was rebuilt as an Assyrian provincial capital, which the Assyrian sovereign renamed Kar-​Esarhaddon (Kar-​Aššur-​ ahu-​iddina,“Esarhaddon’s Harbor”) after himself (although the ancient name continued to be used) and Sidon became a province ruled by an Assyrian governor.240 According to Esarhaddon, Sanduarri (i.e., Luwian Sandawarri), the ruler of the cities Kundu and Sissû in Cilicia, had allied himself with the king of Sidon, revealing links between Sidon and Cilicia in the early seventh century bc, and was punished in the same way. After being caught and executed within five months of each other, their heads were the centerpieces of triumphal festivities staged publicly in the Assyrian capital: To show the people the might of the god Aššur, my lord, I hung (the heads of Abdi-​milkuti and Sanduarri) around the necks of their nobles and I paraded in the squares of Nineveh with singers and lyres.241 Bel-​šaddû’a, the governor of Sidon, held the office of the Assyrian year eponym in 650 bc,242 but otherwise, the extant cuneiform records do not record any of Sidon’s further history. It is thus not known when it regained its independence and its own king. However, an inscription of Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon lists the kings of Tyre, Sidon, and Arwad as members of his court in Babylon,243 and this suggests that Sidon was

239. Leichty 2011: nos. 47 and 48. 240. Radner 2008: 63, no. 65. 241. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 36−38; and parallels. 242. Radner 2008: 63, no. 65. 243. Da Riva 2013: 217: vii 25′.

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re-​established as an independent kingdom as a result of the disintegration of the Assyrian Empire toward the late seventh century bc.

47.6.2. Sarepta The first secure mention of Sarepta appears in an Egyptian papyrus with a satirical text dated to the thirteenth century bc, together with Byblos, Beirut, and Sidon.244 An inscription in alphabetic cuneiform dating to about that time was found in Sarepta,245 demonstrating that the use of the cuneiform alphabet was not limited to Ugarit. Located north of the mouth of the Litani river, Sarepta was never the center of an independent kingdom and throughout its history the city depended either on Tyre or Sidon. According to the Bible, Sarepta depended on Sidon in the early ninth century bc when the prophet Elijah took refuge in the home of a widow there.246 Its first mention in Assyrian sources dates to the reign of Sennacherib. When this Assyrian king took action against Lulî of Sidon in 701 bc, Sarepta was described as part of his holdings.247 In 677 bc, after the annexation of Sidon into the Assyrian provincial system, his son and successor Esarhaddon assigned Sarepta, together with the nearby city of Ma’rubbu, to the territory of the king Ba‘alu of Tyre.248 Before the Lebanese civil war, a team from the University of Pennsylvania excavated at Sarepta and uncovered a Phoenician-​period district with industrial-​type facilities for ceramic production, metallurgy, and probably purple dyeing, indicated by a deposit of murex shells.249 A sanctuary was also found, which according to a dedicatory inscription belonged to the goddess Tanit-​Aštart.250 244. Papyrus Anastasi I. For an edition, see Fischer-​Elfert 1986. 245. Boyes 2019. 246. 1 Kgs 17:9. 247. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: l. 33; and parallels. 248. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 15−17. 249. Pritchard 1978. 250. Pritchard 1982.

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47.6.3. Tyre The very name of Tyre (Phoenician Ṣor) means “rock,” and the city is built on a rocky island off the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. According to a tradition transmitted by Flavius Josephus, King Hiram of Tyre, supposedly a contemporary of Solomon, undertook major construction work in order to connect two rocky outcrops into one island, thus creating a larger base for the city.251 A dike built by Alexander the Great so that he could besiege Tyre on its island led to the creation of an isthmus, gradually turning the island into the peninsula protruding into the sea that it is today. One of the Amarna Letters, written sometime during the fourteenth century bc when Tyre did not control any territory on the mainland, refers to the difficulties of supplying the island with water and other commodities (“for water, for fetching wood, for straw, for clay”) and asks for the return of the mainland territory called Usû252 (now typically written Ušû253). This area was located just opposite the island and was Tyre’s most important holding on the mainland also in the early first millennium bc. Although the center of ancient Tyre has not been excavated, primarily because it is covered by a crusader castle and the modern town, archaeological investigations at the site have mostly brought to light remains from the Roman and Late Antique periods, and more recently, a Persian-​period sanctuary.254 As for the earlier periods, a stratigraphic sounding has been undertaken, and while this did not reveal any architectural remains, it has yielded a ceramic sequence that begins in the third millennium bc.255 The recent exploration of the ancient harbor showed that there was no port on the island’s southern section, where

251. Joseph. Ap. 1.113. 252. Moran 1992: no. 148. For other attestations, see Moran 1992: 392 (index). 253. Bagg 2007: 272–​273. 254. Badre 2015. 255. Bikai 1978.

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instead the remains of a manufacturing area were uncovered, and that the northern, or “Sidonian,” port, which was located at the site of the present harbor, was larger than the modern one.256 Tyre’s wealth is evident in the Amarna Letters, and also in texts from Ugarit.257 Thanks to its proximity to the kingdom of Israel, Tyre is better documented than any other Phoenician city in the Bible. The Book of Kings deals with Tyre more generally, while the Book of Ezekiel provides a very detailed picture of Tyre’s trade network, extending from the Mediterranean Sea to Mesopotamia, Anatolia, and South Arabia.258 The First Book of Kings describes the close relationship between Hiram of Tyre and Solomon. However, the picture it paints more likely reflected the situation in the eighth century bc under Jeroboam II of Israel, whose palace in Samaria was extensively decorated with Phoenician ivories; it was perhaps at this time that they undertook a joint expedition south to Ophir via the Red Sea.259 Tiglath-​pileser I’s account of his visit to the Mediterranean in 1111 bc does not mention that he received tribute from Tyre (sections 47.3.2 and 47.6.1). This could be explained in two ways: either Tyre was located too far south to be affected by the Assyrian monarch’s visit (although Sidon, which offered tribute, is situated only a short distance further north), or Tyre’s tribute was included in the payment presented by Sidon, presumably because Tyre belonged to the kingdom of Sidon at that time. However, when Ashurnasirpal II visited the Mediterranean sometime between 875 bc and 867 bc, the tribute from Tyre and that from Sidon were recorded separately.260

256. Carayon et al. 2011; Carayon 2012/​2013. 257. For Amarna, see Moran 1992: no. 89: ll. 45−50: “Will the king not make inquiry about the mayor of Tyre? For his property is as great as the sea. I know it! Look, there is no mayor residence like that of the mayor of Tyre. It is like the residence in Ugarit. Exceedingly great is the wealth in it.” For Ugarit, see Lackenbacher and Malbran-​Labat 2016: 112–​113, 115–​131. 258. Most importantly, Ezek 27. For a discussion, see Liverani 1991. 259. 1 Kgs 9:26−28; see Briquel Chatonnet 1992: 271–​287; 2010. 260. Grayson 1991: A.0.101.2: l. 28.

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We have already discussed how these two cities’ history followed a parallel course in the ninth and eighth centuries bc (sections 47.6 and 47.6.1): tribute was paid at least twice to Shalmaneser III in the mid-​ninth century bc; to Adad-​nerari III at the end of the same century; and to Tiglath-​pileser III in the 730s bc during the period of Assyria’s conquest of the Levant. At that time, Hiram (Assyrian Hirumu) was king of Tyre and initially formed an alliance with Rahianu/​Rezin of Damascus against the Assyrian Empire. However, after Tiglath-​pileser “captured and plundered the city of Mahalab (i.e., Mahalliba), his fortified city, together with (other) large cities (of his) [ . . . ] he came before me and kissed my feet.”261 His subsequent tribute payment included twenty talents of gold, assorted luxury textiles, male and female singers, and Egyptian horses,262 and Hiram of Tyre was afterwards included in the list of the Assyrian king’s client rulers who delivered tribute to the empire.263 Letters from Tiglath-​pileser’s correspondence with the governor of Ṣimirra, the newly established Assyrian province (section 47.4.3), document details about the empire’s relationship with Tyre, and also the relationship between Tyre and Sidon.264 In one of these letters, the governor quotes Tiglath-​ pileser as having previously instructed him to maintain good relations (“speak kindly”) with the king of Tyre.265 This letter makes it clear that the Assyrians monitored and taxed Tyre’s and also Sidon’s trade and controlled access to the wood supplies in the Lebanon range, having forbidden any timber deliveries to the Philistines and the Egyptians. Another letter identifies the king of Tyre as Hiram, and reported that he cut down a certain sacred object (called ēqu) in Sidon in order to have it transported to Tyre, but that moving it had been prevented and Hiram had been deported as a consequence of his sacrilege.266 A third, fragmentarily 261. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 49: rev. 5−8; cf. no. 50: l. 5. 262. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 49: rev. 8. 263. Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 32: l. 3. 264. For a discussion of the correspondence of this governor, see Yamada 2008. 265. Luukko 2012: no. 22: ll. 3−4. 266. Luukko 2012: no. 23.

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preserved letter mentions that the subsequent king of Tyre, Matenni, was busy rallying the neighboring polities to collect the tribute due to the empire;267 this letter also refers to the Sidonians. From these letters, it seems that Sidon was dependent on the king of Tyre. Later, Sargon II used the Tyrian fleet in a campaign against Ionian pirates who, according to his inscriptions, had harassed the territories of Cilicia (Assyrian Que) and Tyre;268 and it was presumably with Tyrian ships that the Assyrian forces reached Cyprus, where a royal stele of Sargon was erected.269 In 701 bc, Sennacherib campaigned along the Levantine coast, and while he did not occupy the island of Tyre, he did subdue all the nearby cities, which were under the control of Lulî, king of Sidon, according to the Assyrian monarch’s inscriptions: Greater Sidon, Lesser Sidon, Bit-​ Zitti, Sarepta, Mahalliba, Ušû, Akzibu (modern Akhziv), and Akko.270 It would seem that once Ušû, situated just opposite Tyre, had been captured by the Assyrian forces, Lulî fled by boat from Tyre, as illustrated on the wall decoration in the throne room of Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace at Nineveh (figure 47.4). Presumably he fled to Cyprus. Sennacherib’s account thus draws the picture of a unified kingdom of Sidon and Tyre that in the late eighth century bc extended from Sidon to Akko. After the kingdom was split into two polities by Sennacherib, his successor Esarhaddon greatly favored the kingdom of Tyre at the expense of Sidon, which rebelled against the Assyrian Empire and was eventually integrated as a province (section 47.6.1). As a consequence, Esarhaddon assigned the cities of Sarepta and Ma’rubbu to the territory of Tyre,271 which implies that by that time, this principality had already managed to recover the territory as far north as the Litani river, presumably aided by

267. Luukko 2012: no. 24: ll. 2′−5′. 268. Frame 2021: no. 43: l. 21. 269. Edition: Malbran-​Labat 2004; Frame 2021: no. 130; for a discussion of the monument’s political and cultural context, see Radner 2010. 270. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: ll. 32−34. 271. Leichty 2011: no. 1: iii 16.

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the fact that it had been paying its tribute to the Assyrian Empire regularly and had otherwise proved a good client state. In the 670s bc, a treaty was concluded between Esarhaddon and Ba‘alu of Tyre.272 Although weighted in favor of the imperial interests, this document formally recognized Tyre as an equal partner, illustrating the importance of the principality to the Assyrian Empire. The treaty gave Tyre trading privileges and access to the Mediterranean harbors under imperial control, and protected the empire’s interests by guaranteeing the membership of the Assyrian delegate (qēpu) in all of Tyre’s political and decision-​making bodies. The kingdom’s privileged position among the client states of the Assyrian Empire is also apparent from the fact that Ba‘alu of Tyre was listed as the first ruler among the “twenty-​two kings of Hatti, the seacoast, and the midst of the sea” that contributed labor and materials for the construction of Esarhaddon’s palace at Nineveh;273 the list also included “ten kings of Cyprus (Assyrian Iadnana) in the midst of the sea.”274 During Ashurbanipal’s first campaign against Egypt in 667 bc, he too received tribute from the Levantine rulers, and the same list of twenty-​ two tributaries is repeated in his inscriptions, again headed by Ba‘alu of Tyre.275 However, later Ba‘alu of Tyre rebelled against the Assyrian Empire, and Ashurbanipal besieged Tyre and blockaded the island in ca. 662 bc.276 Even though the city was not taken, Tyre was compelled to surrender, and after the siege was lifted, Ba‘alu’s daughters, nieces, and son were handed over as hostages; the (unnamed) son was later returned by Ashurbanipal as an act of mercy (it is unclear when), and the fortifications erected against Tyre were removed. This undoubtedly served the empire’s commercial interests:

272. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 5; see Briquel Chatonnet 1992: 204–​206. 273. Leichty 2011: no. 1: v 55. 274. Leichty 2011: no. 1: v 63−72. 275. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 6: ii 26′. 276. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 38−49; no. 4: ii 12′−22′; no. 6: iii 58′−72′; and parallels.

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I dismantled the outposts that I had constructed against Ba‘alu, the king of the land of Tyre. By sea and dry land, I opened (all of ) his routes, as many as I had seized. I received from him his substantial payment.277 Thereafter, the cuneiform evidence falls largely silent. It is noteworthy that once, in the date formula of an Assyrian prophecy report, Bel-​šaddû’a, the governor of Sidon and the Assyrian year eponym for 650 bc, is mentioned as the “governor of Tyre.”278 If this is not considered a mere mistake, this phrasing might suggest that the province of Sidon controlled some of the lands previously under the rule of Tyre. Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon again put Tyre under siege, with a blockade that, according to Flavius Josephus, lasted thirteen years; but the city remained unconquered.279 An inscription of Nebuchadnezzar II lists the kings of Tyre, Sidon, and Arwad as members of his court in Babylon.280 Tyre seems to have retained its independence, and its king, until its conquest by Alexander the Great.

47.6.4.  The regions further south, from Akko to Mount Carmel The Phoenician world extended southward from Tyre. The Book of Kings accounts for this by explaining that Solomon had given Hiram of Tyre twenty-​two cities in Galilee (called the land of Cabul), in exchange for timber and gold.281 In fact, excavations at Tell Keisan in Galilee have

277. Novotny and Jeffers 2018: no. 3: ii 57−61; no. 4: ii 29′−32′; no. 6: iii 82′−86′; and parallels. 278. Parpola 1997: no. 9: rev. 6′−7′; see Radner 2008: 63, no. 65. 279. Joseph. Ap. 1.156−159. According to Joseph. AJ 10.228, this information derives from Philostratus’s history of Phoenicia. 280. Da Riva 2013: 217: vii 23′. 281. 1 Kgs 9:10−14.

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unearthed a settlement whose archaeological profile has been described as Phoenician.282 On the coast, Akzibu (modern Akhziv) and Akko belonged to the kingdom of Tyre, according to the Assyrian inscriptions.283 Excavations at Akhziv have largely confirmed its Phoenician character:284 the dead were cremated rather than buried, and there are funerary inscriptions in the Phoenician language.285 The city reached its peak between the tenth and sixth centuries bc. The Bible reports a confrontation between Elijah, prophet of Yahweh, and four hundred prophets of the god Ba‘al that took place south of Akko, at Mount Carmel.286 Regardless of whether the Ba‘al mentioned here was the god Melqart, the protector of Tyre, or the divine lord of Mount Carmel, who had the character of a storm god,287 the biblical narrative suggests that a Phoenician god was the tutelary deity of the region. The southernmost Phoenician city is perhaps Dor, located at the mouth of the Sharon plain, as archaeological investigations there have produced materials that can be described as characteristically Phoenician.288 However, in the Account of Wenamun, Dor is called a city of the Tjeker (one of the so-​called Sea Peoples; see c­ hapter 28 in volume 3), and all the riches that the protagonist had brought with him to buy timber in Byblos were taken from him there (section 47.5.2). In the Bible,289 Dor features as the principal town of a prefecture established by Solomon, although this likely reflected a situation of a more recent date: at Samaria, the seal of a Zakar-​Yahu, priest of Dor, has been found,

282. Briend and Humbert 1980. 283. Grayson and Novotny 2012: no. 4: l. 33. 284. Yassur-​Landau, Press and Eran 2016. 285. Cross 2002; Dayagi-​Mendels 2002. 286. 1 Kgs 18. 287. Briquel Chatonnet 2005a. 288. Stern 2000. 289. 1 Kgs 4:11.

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which may date to the mid-​eighth century bc; it probably attests to Dor’s subservience to the kingdom of Israel at that time.290 After Tiglath-​ pileser III annexed the entire region in 732 bc, Dor was presumably absorbed into the new Assyrian province of Megiddo.291 At the beginning of the Persian imperial period, Dor was assigned to the territory of the kingdom of Sidon, according to a grant in favor of Ešmun-​azor II, king of Sidon.292

47.7.  In conclusion To many, the Phoenicians are today one of the most familiar among the many peoples of the ancient Near East, thanks to their prominence in classical literature and thanks to the remains of their settlements throughout the Mediterranean, from Lebanon and Syria in the east to Spain and Morocco in the west, but the epigraphic documentation available for them is still extremely poor, despite the advances of archaeological research in the last decades. Therefore, the details of daily life escape us for the most part, and we know nothing about their literature and relatively little about their religion, beyond the names of the most important deities (section 47.2.5). Reviewing the history of the Phoenician cities between Mount Zaphon in the north and Mount Carmel in the south one by one, as we have done in the main part of this chapter (section 47.3), only reveals the size of the gaps in the available documentation. Only a few royal names are known, and secure attestations derive either from local Phoenician inscriptions (sadly limited to only Byblos) or the contemporary Assyrian sources. Very little of the political system can be reconstructed; the best contemporary source is the extremely fragmentary treaty between Esarhaddon of Assyria and Ba‘alu of Tyre. This treaty was probably 290. Avigad and Sass 1997: 60, no. 29. 291. Radner 2008: 53, no. 61. Note that there is no Assyrian province of Dor; see Radner 2008: 66, no. 81. 292. Donner and Röllig 2002: no 14. For the text and its discussion, see Briant 2002: 490.

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concluded after the Assyrian conquest of Sidon in 676 bc; it mentions the “elders of your country” convening to counsel the king of Tyre, and also the necessity for the Assyrian delegate (qēpu) to be present for all important decisions at that time.293 Beyond the meager testimony of this single source, discussions of the institutional role of assemblies of elders, and the possible existence of popular assemblies or other non-​monarchic institutions, are by necessity largely speculative, as they are not based on concrete evidence. This chapter began by raising the question of what it meant to be Phoenician, and approached this thorny issue from various angles (section 47.2). In closing, we will briefly survey the matter of political solidarity between the Phoenician cities, an issue best studied in the context of the threat that emanated from the Assyrian Empire from the ninth century bc onward. It is clear that each principality acted and reacted independently and that a common “Phoenician” policy vis-​à-​vis the Assyrian Empire never existed. In 853 bc, the kings of northern Phoenicia (Usnu, Siyanu, Arwad, Arqa, and probably also Ṣimirra and Byblos)294 joined a coalition that opposed Shalmaneser III of Assyria, while Tyre and Sidon did not, despite the fact that their inland neighbors Damascus, Israel, and Ammon also engaged in the fight against the Assyrian Empire. Tyre and Sidon seem to have been happy to pay the tribute that the empire demanded of them. However, by the seventh century bc, these cities no longer acted in unison. Rather, each took advantage of the other whenever possible in order to regain land from their Assyrian overlord, and we see Sarepta and the nearby city of Ma’rubbu changing hands from Sidon to Tyre. There was no sign of political solidarity in any of this behavior. What was stable, however, was the attitude of the Assyrian rulers, who generally preferred to preserve the relative autonomy of certain Phoenician principalities rather than annex the entire region, in order to make use of them and their fleets for maritime warfare in the Mediterranean and, of course, to benefit from overseas trade. In the Iron Age, a Phoenician world (one with blurred 293. Parpola and Watanabe 1988: no. 5: iii 7′ (elders); iii 8′-​14′ (Assyrian delegate). 294. For a discussion of the epigraphic problems with the so-​called Kurkh Monolith, see sections 47.4.1 (Gabala), 47.4.3 (Ṣimirra), and 47.5.2 (Byblos).

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contours) did exist, but it did not take the form of a “Phoenicia” whose history could be written as that of a unified nation. R ef er en c es Abou Abdallah, M. 2018. Histoire du royaume de Byblos à l’âge du Fer (1080–​ 333). Leuven: Peeters. Abou Assaf, A. 1997. Tell Sukas. In Meyers, E.M. (ed.), The Oxford encyclopedia of archaeology in the Near East, vol. V. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 90–​91. Aimé-​Giron, N. 1939. Adversaria Semitica: 122: fragment de lettre. ASAE 39: 339–​351. Aimé-​Giron, N. 1940. Adversaria Semitica (III): VII, Ba‘al Saphon et les dieux de Tahpanhès dans un nouveau papyrus phénicien. ASAE 40: 433–​460. Albright, W.F. 1947. The Phoenician inscriptions of the tenth century from Byblos. JAOS 67: 153–​160. Al-​Maqdissi, M. 2016. Tell Sianu. In Kanjou, J., and Tsuneki, A. (eds.), A history of Syria in one hundred sites. Oxford: Archaeopress, 181–​183. Al-​Maqdissi, M., and Benech, C. 2009. The spatial organization of the Phoenician city of Amrith (Syria). ArcheoSciences: Revue d’archéométrie 33 (supplément): 209–​211. Retrieved from https://​doi.org/​10.4000/​arc​heos​ cien​ces.1596 (last accessed July 11, 2021). Al-​ Maqdissi, M., and Ishac, E. 2016. Amrith/​ Marathos. In Kanjou, J., and Tsuneki, A. (eds.), A history of Syria in one hundred sites. Oxford: Archaeopress, 293–​296. Amadasi Guzzo, M.G., and Zamora López, J.Á. 2016. L’archivio fenicio di Idalion: stato delle ricerche. Semitica et Classica 9: 187–​193. Arruda, A.M. 2020. Phoenicians and Punic in the Mediterranean and beyond: new theoretical and methodological challenges. In Perez, S.C., and Rodríguez González, E. (eds.), Un viaje entre el Oriente y el Occidente del Mediterráneo. Mérida: Instituto Arqueología, 39–​47. Aruz, J., Graff, S.B., and Rakic, Y. (eds.) 2014. Assyria to Iberia: at the dawn of the classical age. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Avigad, N., and Sass, B. 1997. Corpus of West Semitic stamp seals. Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. Bagg, A.M. 2007. Die Orts-​und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, 1: die Levante. Wiesbaden: Reichert.

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Sader, H. 2019. The history and archaeology of Phoenicia. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Saidah, R. 1966. Fouilles de Khaldé. Bulletin du Musée de Beyrouth 19: 51–​90. Sass, B. 2002. Wenamun and his Levant: 1075 BC or 925 BC? ÄL 12: 247–​255. Sass, B. 2005. The alphabet at the turn of the millenium—​the West Semitic alphabet ca. 1150–​850 BCE: the antiquity of the Arabian, Greek and Phrygian alphabets. Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology. Sass, B. 2017. The emergence of monumental West Semitic alphabetic writing, with an emphasis on Byblos. Semitica 59: 109–​141. Schachner, A. 2007. Bilder einer Weltreichs: kunst-​und kulturgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu den Verzierungen eines Tores aus Balawat (Imgur-​Enlil) aus der Zeit von Salmanassar III, König von Assyrien. Turnhout: Brepols. Schäfer-​Lichtenberger, C. 2000. The goddess of Ekron and the religious-​ cultural background of the Philistines. IEJ 50: 82–​91. Schipper, B.U. 2005. Die Erzählung des Wenamun: ein Literaturwerk im Spannungsfeld von Politik, Geschichte und Religion. Fribourg: Academic Press /​Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Shiloh, Y. 1997. The Proto-​ Aeolic capital and Israelite ashlar masonry. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Siddall, L.R. 2013. The reign of Adad-​nīrārī III: an historical and ideological analysis of an Assyrian king and his times. Leiden: Brill. Starcky, J. 1982. La flèche de Zakarba’al roi d’Amurru. In Anonymous (ed.), Archéologie au Levant: recueil à la mémoire de Roger Saidah. Lyon: Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée Jean Pouilloux, 179–​186. Stern, E. 1982. Excavations at Tel Dor, 1981: preliminary report. IEJ 32: 107–​117. Stern, E. 2000. Dor, ruler of the sea: nineteen years of excavations at the Israelite-​ Phoenician harbor town on the Carmel coast. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Suter, C.E., and Uehlinger, C. (eds.) 2005. Craft and images in contact: studies on Eastern Mediterranean art of the first millennium BCE. Fribourg: Academic Press /​Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Tadmor, H., and Yamada, S. 2011. The royal inscriptions of Tiglath-​pileser III, king of Assyria (744–​727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726–​722 BC), king of Assyria. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Thalmann, J.-​P. 1990. Tell ‘Arqa, de la conquête assyrienne à l’époque perse. Transeuphratène 2: 51–​57.

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Timm, S. 1982. Die Dynastie Omri: Quellen und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Israels im 9. Jahrhundert vor Christus. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Tropper, J., and Vita, J.-​P. 2010. Das Kanaano-​Akkadische der Amarnazeit. Münster: Ugarit-​Verlag. Van Dongen, E. 2010. “Phoenicia”: naming and defining a region in Syria-​ Palestine. In Rollinger, R., Guffler, B., Lang, M., and Madreiter, I. (eds.), Interkulturalität in der Alten Welt: Vorderasien, Hellas, Ägypten und die vielfältigen Ebenen des Kontakts. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 471–​488. Vidal, J. 2005. The political decadence of Beirut (14th–​7th BCE). UF 37: 643–​651. Wallenfels, R. 1983. Redating the Byblian inscriptions. JANES 15: 79–​118. Winter, I. 1976. Phoenician and North Syrian ivory carving in historical context: questions of style and distribution. Iraq 38: 1–​22. Xella, P. 1991. Baal Hammon: recherches sur l’identité et l’histoire d’un dieu phénico-​punique. Rome: Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche. Xella, P. 1993. Eschmun von Sidon: der phönizische Asklepios. In Dietrich, M., and Loretz, O. (eds.), Mesopotamica—​Ugaritica—​Biblica: Festschrift für Kurt Bergerhof. Kevelaer: Butzon und Bercker /​Neukirchen-​ Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 481–​498. Xella, P. (ed.) 2013. The tophet in the Phoenician Mediterranean. Verona: Essedue. Xella, P. 2017. Phoenician inscriptions in Palestine. In Hübner, U., and Niehr, H. (eds.), Sprachen in Palästina im 2. und 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 153–​169. Yakubovich, I. 2015. Phoenician and Luwian in Early Iron Age Cilicia. AnSt 65: 35–​53. Yamada, S. 2008. Qurdi-​Assur-​lamur: his letters and career. In Kogan, M., and Kahn, D. (eds.), Treasures on camels’ humps: historical and literary studies from the ancient Near East presented to Israel Eph‘al. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 296–​311. Yassur-​Landau, A., Press, M.D., and Eran, A. 2016. Rethinking Tel Achziv: an Iron II architectonic and ceramic sequence from southern Phoenicia. Tel Aviv 43: 192–​224. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2016. A political history of the Arameans: from their origins to the end of their polities. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature. Zamora, J.Á. (ed.) 2003. El hombre fenicio: estudios y materiales. Rome: Escuela Española de Historia y Arqueología en Roma.

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The Kingdoms of Israel and Judah Omer Sergi

48.1. Introduction The kingdoms of Israel and Judah (figure 48.1) are known, first and foremost, from the Bible.1 The story of these kingdoms is narrated in the Books of Samuel and Kings, which in their current position present the formation of the Israelite monarchy as the peak of a relatively coherent process that began with the ancestral family described in the Book of Genesis. According to this narrative, the Israelite monarchy reached its zenith in its early days, when it was a United Monarchy encompassing both the territories of Israel and Judah and was ruled by David and Solomon from Jerusalem. Historically, the kingdoms of Israel and Judah were part of a wider sociopolitical phenomenon that in many ways defined the Iron Age Levant: the rise and fall of territorial polities.2 For a short period of time in the early Iron Age (ca. eleventh–​eighth centuries bc), the Levant was not ruled by strong dominant powers as it had been throughout the Late Bronze Age (with Egypt, Mittani, and the Hittite Kingdoms) and then again from the second half of the eighth century bc (when it was ruled successively by the Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian empires). During 1. The chapter was language-​edited by Denise Bolton. 2. Porter 2016; Routledge 2017. Omer Sergi, The Kingdoms of Israel and Judah In: The Oxford History of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Karen Radner, Nadine Moeller, and D. T. Potts, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2023. DOI: 10.1093/​oso/​9780190687632.003.0048

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Figure 48.1.  Sites mentioned in c­ hapter 48. Prepared by Andrea Squitieri (LMU Munich).

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this hiatus the sociopolitical organization of the Levant took the form of a network of urban centers with strong maritime economies along the coasts (the “Phoenicians” in the northern Levantine littoral and the “Philistines” in the south; see ­chapter 47 in this volume and c­ hapter 52 in volume 5), together with inland kin-​based, territorial polities. The inland territorial polities were a new and one-​time phenomenon that were formed and perpetuated in a very specific political landscape. Israel and Judah were two such polities and their story reflects, in many ways, the story of the Iron Age Levant (­figures 48.2–​48.3). The following provides a sketch of the social and political histories of Israel and Judah.3 However, before we begin, a brief discussion of the available sources—​ both material and textual—​is required.

48.1.1.  The Bible as a source for the histories of Israel and Judah The primary source for the histories of Israel and Judah is the Bible, and especially the Books of Samuel and Kings. Information regarding the monarchic period may also be found in Joshua and Judges and in the prophetic literature. It is commonly agreed that the books of Samuel and Kings were based on older textual sources, and that they were composed and redacted no earlier than the late seventh or the early sixth century bc. The extent to which such older sources may be identified in these books is debated, but when considering their use as a source for the reconstruction of Israel and Judah’s history, one should note the following: (1) The campaign of Sheshonq I of Egypt (biblical Shishak) to Canaan (second half of the tenth century bc) is the earliest event documented in the Bible4 which finds support in an extra-​biblical source (Sheshonq’s Karnak Relief );

3. Many comprehensive histories of Israel and Judah have been published in the past two decades; see, e.g., Miller and Hase 2006; Grabbe 2007; Kratz 2016; Frevel 2016; Knauf and Guillaume 2016; Schipper 2020. 4. 1 Kgs 14:25–​28.

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Figure 48.2.  Archaeological sites mentioned in this chapter. Map created by Omer Zeevi-​Berger (Tel Aviv).

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Figure 48.3.  Geographical regions in the land of Canaan. Map created by Omer Zeevi-​Berger (Tel Aviv).

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(2) Beginning with Sheshonq I’s campaign to Canaan, more and more events documented in the Book of Kings are also documented in extra-​biblical sources; (3) Almost every Israelite king, beginning with Omri (ca. 887–​875 bc) and every Judahite king beginning with Ahaz (ca. 734–​727 bc) are mentioned in extra-​biblical sources in the same chronological order as they are listed in Kings. It is, therefore, evident that from the second half of the tenth century/​early ninth century bc, the narrative in the Book of Kings enters the more “historical realm,” at least in regard to the fact that we may find further evidence in extra-​biblical sources for many of the political events it mentions. This suffices to argue that whenever it was composed or redacted, the Book of Kings was based on some authentic historical sources, by which later scribes were acquainted with past historical events, and also with the kings’ lists of both Israel and Judah.5 The other side of that coin, however, casts considerable doubt on the historicity of the biblical narrative prior to the Omride rule over Israel. This period included the reigns of David and Solomon over the united monarchy which is depicted in the Book of Samuel and in the first twelve chapters of the Book of Kings. It is noteworthy that most of the historical data in Kings that are supported by extra-​biblical sources are provided by short, factual, and chronistic accounts (mostly within regnal formulas), which cover the entire history of Israel and Judah for almost 350 years. Such factual notes, accounts, or kings’ lists are well known from the ancient Near Eastern historiographic tradition. The approximately 100 years of the United Monarchy, on the other hand, is narrated within a complex literary framework, featuring various characters whose mental and emotional conditions were utilized as a means to drive the plot. Such stories, parallels for which are also known from other ancient Near East traditions, are first and foremost literary works; they may refer to an imagined or real past, but they were not intended to accurately document it. This means that they depict the past and refer to 5. Van Seters 1983: 297–​298; Na’aman 2006a.

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it as their authors thought it should have occurred,6 and thus any utilization of these stories for historical reconstruction should be done with much caution. This does not mean that these stories have no historical value—​they still reflect geopolitical circumstances known to their compilers, and they may shed light on the way historical events were memorized and recounted.

48.1.2.  Israel and Judah in extra-​biblical textual sources The name “Israel” first appears in the Egyptian Merenptah Stele, dated to the late thirteenth century bc, where it refers to a group of people.7 The next time the name Israel appears in textual sources, some 350 years after Merenptah, it refers exclusively to the territorial polity ruled by the Omrids—​in the so-​called Kurkh Monolith of Shalmaneser III of Assyria (858–​824 bc; ­chapter 39 in this volume), in the Moabite Mesha Inscription and in the Aramaic Tel Dan Stele—​all dated to the second half of the ninth century bc.8 The Tel Dan Stele (figure 48.4) refers also to the kingdom of Judah (“The House of David”) and together with the Mesha Inscription they are the only textual sources from the Iron Age Levant which explicitly refer to Israel or to Judah. Additionally, Israel and Judah are mentioned in Assyrian royal annals or in the Babylonian chronicles, as far as they came in contact with the forces of the Assyrian Empire (­chapter 38 in this volume) and the Neo-​Babylonian Empire (­chapter 50 in volume 5): from the mid-​ninth century for Israel and from the second half of the eighth century bc for Judah. All these sources shed further light on political events mentioned in the Book of Kings and mostly contextualize them.

6. Blum 2007. 7. Hasel 1998: 170–​204; Kitchen 2004. For the history of research, see Nestor 2010: 189–​187. 8. For all the extra-​biblical sources that refer to Israel and Judah, see Weippert 2010. For a comprehensive review of many more textual sources which are relevant for the study of the Bible, see Hallo and Younger 2003.

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Figure 48.4.  The Tel Dan Stele, on display at the Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Photograph by Oren Rozen, courtesy of the Israel Museum.

48.1.3.  The role of archaeology Archaeology and, to be more specific, the study of the material culture of the southern Levant in the Late Bronze and Iron Ages play a decisive role in the reconstruction of the histories of Israel and Judah. This is especially true for the pre-​and early monarchic period, when material remains only emphasize the gap between the biblical narrative and the actual sociopolitical circumstances as revealed by archaeological research. Indeed, initially archaeology was seen as a tool in aid of historical studies, and in regard to the Bible, it was mainly expected to prove (or disprove) the historicity of the biblical narrative. For the most part, archaeological data were interpreted in light of biblical

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narrative and not on their own merit. Thus, for instance, the destruction of the thriving “Canaanite” town of Megiddo VIA was automatically attributed to David, even though the biblical narrative itself does not mention Megiddo in relation to David, and actually makes no mention of David destroying any other city. It is no wonder that the attempt to utilize archaeological data only to support the historicity of the biblical narrative was, for the most part, futile, especially in light of the fact that material remains can teach us so much more about ancient societies, and provide information about much more than just political history. A more elaborate approach, that also considered the societal aspect of material remains, was introduced to biblical archaeology in the 1980s−1990s. Yet, this approach was still employed in direct relation to the biblical narrative, this time in a constant attempt to identify Israelites as an ethnic group in the material remains.9 The “ethnic” discourse is rooted in the “cultural-​history” approach, which views Levantine history in terms of well-​defined “ethnic groups” moving in space, and often conflicting with each other. Each “ethnic” group mentioned in textual sources that could be located in time and space was also identified in the contemporaneous archaeological record as such.10 Consequently, archaeological finds that were attributed to a specific group in light of textual sources were then viewed as “ethnic markers” that could be used to demarcate one group from the others and in some cases even to reconstruct the movement of a particular group in time and space. The circular reasoning embedded in this treatment of the material remains is based on the assumption that objects and materials used by human beings reflect their ethnicity, and that ethnicity, in turn, even when it changes over time, has its own specific expression, which allows us to draw archaeologically visible “ethnic boundaries” between groups.11

9. Dever 1995; Faust 2006. 10. For further discussion, see Sherratt 2005. 11. E.g., Faust and Levtov 2011.

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However, the ongoing archaeological exploration of the Levant demonstrated the continuity that characterized the local material culture (section 48.2), and that, together with current trends of “processual” and “post processual” archaeology, cast considerable doubt on the role that material remains could play in constructing “ethnic” boundaries. Material remains, it was argued, could hardly reflect specific “ethnicity,” and thus they should be interpreted in light of their functional and symbolic roles. Accordingly, material culture better reflects economic strategies, modes of life, political structures, and social practices of past societies,12 but none of these features can be used to draw ethnic boundaries or to mark specific ethnic groups. Considering the extent to which economic strategies and social practices affect the way a community identifies itself or is identified by others, archaeological evidence may reflect at least some aspects of a group’s identity. By doing so, it should, however, be acknowledged that many other aspects of such an elusive identity—​materialized (e.g., clothing) or not (gender)—​are underrepresented in the archaeological record. This conclusion is significant for the discussion of the role of archaeology in biblical studies, as it demonstrates that material remains should, first and foremost, be discussed within their own chronological and spatial context, in order to reflect on social practices, hierarchies, and daily existence of different communities. Texts, on the other hand, especially when dealing with antiquity, may only represent an elite point of view. Discrepancies between text and material remains are therefore inherent, and should not be treated as anomalies. Rather, archaeology can contextualize the historical data provided by the text: studying settlement patterns and hierarchies may shed light on sociopolitical formations and transformations; material remains may shed light on socioeconomic activities and exchange, aspects of cult and beliefs, cultural interaction, and on daily life—​aspects of human societies which are hardly represented by textual sources. Archaeology is therefore a self-​standing discipline, which can provide the additional data that contextualize our textual sources. 12. E.g., Finkelstein 1996; Porter 2012.

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48.1.4.  A note about chronology Archaeological discussions of stratigraphy, settlement patterns, and material remains as a rule utilize only “relative chronology” (e.g., Late Bronze Age IIA, Iron Age IIB), which is based on the clustering of ceramic assemblages within clear stratigraphic contexts. The relative chronology distinguishes earlier from later, and enables a chronological discussion even when absolute dates are missing or debated. The translation of pottery assemblages to absolute dates should not be taken for granted. The establishment of relative and absolute chronologies of ceramic assemblages is one of the most intriguing tasks of the discipline. In fact, the early Iron Age (Iron Age I–​IIA), in the southern Levant, stood at the heart of a fierce and emotional debate that lasted more than fifteen years.13 Thanks to the growing know­ ledge of ceramics assemblages retrieved from well-​controlled stratigraphic excavations and to the extensive use of radiocarbon dating, the Iron Age chronological debate seems to have been resolved. Of course, some disagreements and lacunas remain, but the overall chronological frame of the Iron I–​IIA seems to have arrived at a general consensus.14 Table 48.1 presents the absolute dates for the relative chronology used in this chapter.

Table 48.1  Relative and Absolute Chronology for the Iron Age Southern Levant Late Bronze Age

ca. 1600–​1150/​1100 bc

Iron Age I

ca. 1150/​1100–​970/​950 bc

Early Iron Age IIA

ca. 970/​950–​900 bc

Late Iron Age IIA

ca. 900–​800/​780 bc

Iron Age IIB

ca. 800/​780–​700/​650 bc

Iron Age IIC

ca. 700/​650–​550 bc

Persian Period

ca. 550–​350 bc

13. Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2011; Mazar 2011. 14. Lee Bronk-​Ramsey and Mazar 2013; Toffolo et al. 2014.

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The regnal years of the Israelite and Judahite kings were also a source for long scholarly discussion, especially since the available data are often incoherent. These problems are beyond the scope of this chapter. It suffices to note that the regnal years given (to each king, in the following text) are approximate and have no claim to accuracy.

48.2.  The historical context: the Levant at the transition from the Late Bronze to the Iron Age and the rise of the Levantine territorial kingdoms The Late Bronze Age Levant was characterized by a system of dominant interregional powers—​the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Egyptian Dynasties in the southern Levant (­chapters 26–​28 in volume 3) and the Mittani state and the kingdom of the Hittites in the northern Levant (­chapters 29–​30 in volume 3)—​that held political and, to a certain extent, economic control over local powers.15 These “local powers,” which formed the basic unit of the Levantine sociopolitical fabric, were mostly constituted by a territory, dominated by an urban center. The retreat of the regional powers from the Levant and the (partial) demise of the urban system (thirteenth–​twelfth centuries bc) resulted in a reformation of the political structures, which in the early Iron Age (eleventh–​ninth centuries bc) took the form of territorial kingdoms. In spite of some controversy regarding the extent to which “statehood” may be attributed to those newly formed territorial polities,16 they may still be defined as independent, kin-​based political entities, ruled by local dynasties, whose capital served as the administrative center of the whole kingdom, and to which other urban centers were subjugated.17 In the past, it was assumed that the territorial kingdoms were formed by invaders—​Hittites/​Luwians in northern Syria, Arameans in Syria, 15. Pfoh 2016. 16. Pfoh 2008. 17. Bryce 2012: 202–​204; Sader 2014: 11–​13.

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and Israelites in Canaan—​who invaded/​migrated into the Levant, and brought about the end of the Late Bronze regional systems. Not only does this theory raise some serious historical difficulties, archaeological studies conducted in recent decades highlight the continuity in many aspects of the material culture throughout Syria and Canaan.18 This continuity may also be observed in some cultural aspects of social life, like the use of language or the system of beliefs.19 It is therefore agreed today that “the Israelites,” “the Arameans,” or “the Luwians” were not invaders or migrants, and certainly not foreigners, but rather they were the indigenous population of the Levant in changing social conditions.20 It was the demise of the Late Bronze Age social structure and its ruling elites—​related to the former urban system and to the regional powers (Egyptian and Hittites)—​that allowed the rise of new elites, of different origin, who found their legitimacy in a new social structure. As these new ascending elites grew in strength, they engaged in a relentless effort to expand their political hegemonies beyond their core communities and to integrate other communities under their rule.21 As for social and political identity in the Iron Age Levant, evolutionary approaches, which assume the suppression of kinship relationships as the “tribe” gave way to the “state,” are highly criticized: it became clear that kinship was the dominant ideology of interaction in ancient Near Eastern societies, utilized to stretch time and space, and to enable the conception of a common identity with unknown others.22 As such, kinship relations maintained their social integrity over long periods of time and under changing political rules,23 as is demonstrated by the fact that the ruling elites in late third-​millennium bc Ebla and early

18. Bryce 2012: 163–​165, 202–​204; Sader 2014: 17–​20. For Canaan, see Finkelstein 1988; 2003. 19. Niehr 2014. 20. Sass 2005: 63; Bunnens 2016. 21. For further discussion, see Sergi and de Hulster 2016. 22. Porter 2012: 57–​58, 326. 23. Van der Steen 2004; Porter 2012; Schloen 2016.

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second-​millennium bc Mari could maintain their “tribal,” kin-​based identities, even when they resided in wealthy urban centers.24 Similarly, and closer to the arena dealt with in this article, the ninth-​century bc Mesha Inscription presents Mesha as “king of Moab, the Dibonite,” and not as a Moabite. Mesha identified himself first and foremost as a Dibonite,25 which was probably his kinship identity and the social group with which he was affiliated.26 There were, therefore, no evolutionary relations between the tribe and the state, as they represent contemporaneous identities.27 In fact, rather than bringing about the dissolution of kinship ties, the state contained them, incorporating kin-​based communities within a more centralized, sometimes hierarchical, structure. Moreover, as kinship provided the organizing principles of the entire society, both the tribe and the state shared a conceptual unity, within an overarching social order: it was the metaphorical extension of kinship itself that provided the vocabulary needed to conceptualize the ancient Near Eastern state, and in some cases, it provided also its administrative structure.28 Against this background, scholars in the past thirty years have repeatedly emphasized the “tribal” or segmented nature of the Iron Age Levantine polities.29 In an attempt to avoid the much-​discussed terminological problem—​whether the Iron Age Levantine territorial polities were “chiefdoms,”30 tribal states,31 or “segmented states,”32 it is enough to maintain that they were relatively fragmented in nature and depended

24. Porter 2012: 240. 25. Knauf 1992. 26. Van der Steen and Smelik 2007. 27. Porter 2012: 39–​63, 238–​240, 326–​329. 28. Schloen 2001. 29. Routledge 2017. 30. Pfoh 2008. 31. Bienkowski 2009. 32. Routledge 2004.

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on face-​to-​face interaction. In particular, the Levantine territorial polities were not centralized in the bureaucratic, administrative sense of the word. Rather, they were based on a network of patron-​client relationships, centered on the ruling elites, who often resided in palaces.33 Eventually, all the various terms applied in order to better define the Iron Age Levantine territorial polities are aiming to highlight a common structural element—​their fragmented nature, ultimately based on an overarching concept of kinship. This is the social and political context within which we should also view the formation of Israel and Judah in the early Iron Age southern Levant.

48.3.  The formation of Israel and Judah in the tenth–​ninth centuries bc 48.3.1.  The question of the United Monarchy

The assumption that a great United Monarchy encompassing both Israel and Judah under the centralized rule of the House of David existed was based on the description of David’s kingdom in the so-​called Succession Narrative,34 and on the stories about the Solomonic Kingdom and its schism.35 As early as during the late 1980s and early 1990s, scholars began to doubt the historicity of these narratives, first by pointing to the lack of any extra-​biblical evidence for the existence of a great United Monarchy.36 Consequently, biblical scholars began to emphasize the gap between the rather late date of the biblical narratives (not before the eighth century bc) and the earlier reality they yearned to depict.37 Archaeological exploration in the past thirty years followed, bringing the reconstruction

33. Schloen 2001; Routledge 2004; Pfoh 2008; 2009. 34. 2 Sam 13–​20, 1 Kgs 1–​2. 35. 1 Kgs 3–​12. 36. E.g., Davies 1992. 37. E.g., Kratz 2016.

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of a great United Monarchy to its final end.38 From the archaeological point of view, it became clear that the northern Samarian Hills were much more densely settled compared to the regions of Judah and Jerusalem, and accordingly this region exhibited a faster accumulation of wealth, which in turn enabled the development of a complex social structure and political centralization. In fact, as both textual sources and material remains demonstrate, throughout the second millennium bc, Shechem and the Samarian Hills in the north were wealthier and more influential than Jerusalem and the Judean Hills to the south. In light of this, there is little chance that the ruling elites from Jerusalem were able to establish and maintain political hegemony over the northern Samarian highlands and the adjacent northern valleys. The increasing archaeological knowledge in the fields of relative and absolute chronologies made it clear that monumental buildings in northern Israel, which traditionally were dated to the mid-​tenth century bc and attributed to Solomon, were actually erected only in the ninth century bc; they are now attributed to the Omride kings of Israel.39 This new dating went hand in hand with historical sources, which indicated the predominance of the kingdom of Israel, especially during the Omride reign. In light of all of the above, the historicity of a great United Monarchy, as depicted in 2 Samuel 9–​2 Kings 12, cannot be maintained. Scholars, therefore, make a clear distinction between the formation of Israel and Judah as separate entities and the origins of the biblical traditions about the United Monarchy, which are mostly thought to reflect a much later reality (sections 48.3.5 and 48.5.2).

48.3.2.  Setting the stage: the central Canaanite highlands in Iron Age I From the early beginnings of the scientific quest for historical Israel, the Israelites were considered outsiders in their land. Either it was assumed that they were geographical outsiders who conquered or peacefully 38. Finkelstein 2010. 39. Niemann 2006; Finkelstein 2013.

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infiltrated the region, or they were viewed as social outsiders—​the lower classes of Canaanite society. It was Finkelstein’s study on “The Archaeology of the Israelite Settlement” that revolutionized our understanding of pre-​monarchic Israel. Finkelstein demonstrated that the settlement wave that characterized the central highlands during the Iron Age I period was not a one-​time phenomenon, but part of a cycle of settlement fluctuation that had precedents in the Early Bronze Age I and Middle Bronze Age II–​III. He suggested that these settlement fluctuations should be explained in terms of socioeconomic shifts toward a more sedentary or more pastoral way of life, and was closely associated with concurrent political, economic, and social transformations. Finkelstein further argued that the typical settlement patterns, architectural plans, and ceramic assemblages of the Iron Age I’s newly sedentarized population reflected its agro-​pastoral subsistence economy, which pointed to a background in a mobile-​pastoral culture.40 In other words, the Iron Age I inhabitants of the hill country were the indigenous nomadic population of the central Canaanite highlands.41 This conclusion was further strengthened and supported by archaeozoological studies,42 ethnographic studies,43 and micro-​archaeological studies,44 and it was also applied to studies discussing the Transjordanian highlands. The massive sedentarization of the central Canaanite highlands during the Iron Age I (ca. late twelfth–​early tenth centuries) encompassed the ridge between the Jezreel valley in the north and Jerusalem in the south. Hundreds of small rural sites appeared during this period, clustered in three geographical locales (figure 48.5), which largely corresponded to the four topographical niches on the central highlands:

40. Finkelstein 1988. 41. Finkelstein 1988; 1995a. 42. Rosen 1994. 43. van der Steen 2004. 44. Shahak-​Gross and Finkelstein 2008.

Figure 48.5.  Iron Age I settlement distribution in the central Canaanite highlands. Map created by Assaf Kleiman.

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( 1) In northern Samaria, between Shechem and the Jezreel valley; (2) In southern Samaria, between Bethel and Shechem; (3) In the Benjamin Plateau, between Bethel and Jerusalem; (4) In the Judean Hills, between Hebron in the south, and Beth-​Zur (identified with Khirbet at-​Tubeqa) in the north, but still some 20 km south of Jerusalem.45 Most of the newly sedentarized population concentrated, accordingly, north of Shiloh, demonstrating spatial continuity between northern and southern Samaria; no such continuity existed south of Shiloh or south of Jerusalem, which left the southern cluster of settlements in the Benjamin Plateau relatively isolated.46

48.3.3.  The formation of Israel in Iron Age I–​IIA: archaeological and historical perspectives Interestingly, the transition from the Late Bronze Age to the Iron Age I, which saw the sedentarization of nomadic groups throughout the Samarian Hills and the Jezreel valley, did not change the traditional balance of power in these regions. Since the Late Bronze Age II, this balance was maintained on an east-​west axis: Tel Megiddo preserved its significant role as the prominent urban center in the Jezreel valley;47 Shechem continued to be the major urban center in northern Samaria (as it had been since the Middle Bronze Age II–​III);48 and starting in the Late Bronze Age I, Tel Reḥov emerged as the most prosperous and enduring urban center in the Beth-​Shean valley.49 This long-​standing sociopolitical structure came to an end at the end of the Iron Age I: Tel Megiddo (Stratum VIA) was completely destroyed,

45. See the summaries in Gadot 2017; Sergi 2019. 46. Sergi 2017a. 47. Finkelstein 2013: 27–​32. 48. Campbell 2002: 210–​233; Finkelstein 2006: 352. 49. Mazar 2016a; 2016b; 2020a; Mazar and Davidovitch 2019.

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and even when settlement at the site resumed in the early Iron Age IIA (Stratum VB), it was not until the late Iron Age IIA that Tel Megiddo (Strata VA−IVB) regained its former strength (figure 48.6). Shechem in northern Samaria was also destroyed and was only sparsely settled in the Iron Age IIA.50 Together with Shechem, other local centers in the Samarian Hills—​Tel Dothan51 and Tel Shiloh52—​were also destroyed, marking the collapse of every former social and political hierarchy in the entire hill country north of Bethel. Destruction was also inflicted on the urban sites in the northern Jordan and Huleh valleys.53 One exception to this pattern was Tel Reḥov (VI–​IV), which maintained its strength throughout the Iron Age I–​IIA. More than anything else, the destruction of the Iron Age I urban centers throughout the Samarian Hills and the adjacent valleys marks the collapse of all former sociopolitical organization. The fact that the Samarian Hills and Jezreel valley were left with no urban centers for the duration of the early Iron Age IIA only highlights the magnitude of the social change. Yet, the collapse of the former sociopolitical system provided a rare opportunity for certain individuals and groups to seize new economic opportunities and to form new social bonds and political hierarchies. This resulted in the rise of new elites, and the consequent changes in the sociopolitical landscape of the southern Levant. This is well demonstrated by the archaeological data. Around a hundred years elapsed between the destruction of Shechem and the emergence of a new urban center in north Samaria, in Tell el-​Farʽah North, identified with biblical Tirzah. Tirzah was situated at the upper entrance to Wadi Farʽah, overlooking the crossroads leading to Shechem (about 10 km to the southwest) and the Beth-​Shean valley (about 23 km southwest of Tel Reḥov). In the early phase of the late Iron Age IIA (ca. 900 bc) it evolved rapidly from a poor settlement

50. For the destruction of Shechem and Megiddo, see Finkelstein 2006; 2013. 51. Masters et al. 2005. 52. Finkelstein 1993. 53. Sergi and Kleiman 2018.

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Figure 48.6.  Megiddo, aerial view looking north showing (1) the two Omride palaces of Stratum VA, with Palace 6000 visible in the upper right corner of the photograph and the location of Palace 1723 in the southern large excavated area in the lower part of the photograph; and (2) one of the two major stable complexes of Jeroboam II (Stratum VIA) in the lower left corner of the photograph, just west of the location of Palace 1723. Courtesy of Israel Finkelstein and the Megiddo Expedition.

(Stratum VIIa) to a rich urban center exhibiting a social hierarchy, cultic activity, and long-​distance trade (Stratum VIIb).54 It is noteworthy that Tel Reḥov and Tirzah were situated at the two ends of a road that connected the Samarian Hills with the Beth-​Shean valley. Clearly, the rulers of Tirzah must in some ways have been related to the rulers of Tel Reḥov,

54. Kleiman 2018; Finkelstein and Kleiman 2019.

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who dominated over the adjacent Beth-​Shean and central Jordan valleys since the Late Bronze Age. Nonetheless, within the early phase of the late Iron Age IIA and shortly after it was established, Tirzah was utterly destroyed. It remained abandoned throughout that period. With the destruction of Tirzah the power balance shifted again, when a lavish palatial compound was built on a Samarian hilltop on what had previously been an agricultural estate with no former urban or monumental tradition (figure 48.7).55 The transition of power from the long-​enduring center in Shechem to sites that had no preceding urban or royal tradition—​first Tirzah and then Samaria—​demonstrates the formative nature of the period, characterized by instability resulting in the accumulation of wealth and, consequently, also political power in the hands of newly rising elites. The palace erected on the Samarian hilltop in the early ninth century bc is exclusively identified with the Omride dynasty.56 Assuming that the agricultural estate preceding the Omride palace in Samaria had belonged to the Omride family,57 this reflects the wealth accumulated in the hands of the Omrids prior to their rise to power.58 By the early ninth century bc, from their seat in Samaria, the Omrids extended their political hegemony over vast territories populated by different social groups; this is clear from biblical as well as extra-​biblical sources.59 The extension of Omride political hegemony was marked in the landscape by the erection of palaces and royal compounds on the western (Tel Megiddo VA–​ IVB) and eastern (Tel Jezreel) margins of the Jezreel valley (figures 48.6 and 48.8); a new fortified town was erected in the Huleh valley (Hazor X–​IX). The Omrids also extended their political hegemony to the more arid and less sedentary regions of the plains of Moab by establishing

55. For a recent discussion of the stratigraphy of Samaria, see Sergi and Gadot 2017. 56. 1 Kgs 16:24; see Finkelstein 2013: 85–​94; Niemann 2006; 2007. 57. Stager 1990; Franklin 2004: 190–​194. 58. Sergi and Gadot 2017:105–​106, 109. 59. Na’aman 2007a; Finkelstein 2013: 83–​112.

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Figure 48.7.  Samaria, view looking east: the rock-​cut scrap in the center and the ashlar wall built on its edges are the remains of the Omride palace. Courtesy of Israel Finkelstein.

patronage relationships with local leaders of mobile-​pastoral groups,60 and by erecting forts on the main routes crossing the region.61 Such building activity imposed the Omride rule on the northern valleys and the central Transjordan, while also serving as the locus where local elites could be integrated within the newly established Omride rule.62 No such building activity can be detected in the Beth-​Shean valley, where Tel Reḥov maintained its status and role as the seat of the local ruling elite. In spite of that, it is difficult to accept the argument that Tel Reḥov and the Beth-​Shean valley were not integrated into the Omride polity.63 If the Omrids ruled the Jezreel valley west of the Beth-​Shean 60. 2 Kgs 3:4. 61. Finkelstein and Lipschits 2010. 62. Niemann 2006; Sergi and Gadot 2017: 108–​110. 63. Finkelstein 2016; Arie 2017, but note the reply of Mazar 2016a: 115–​116; 2020b: 120−124.

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valley, and fought as far as the Gilead to the east of it,64 then it is hard to imagine that the territory in between was ruled by some local elite who was hostile or disloyal to the Omrids. Even if Tel Reḥov was in some way self-​governed despite being surrounded by Omride territory, it is likely that its rulers would have had an arrangement with the Omrids in Samaria, as may be also deduced from textual sources and epigraphic evidence (see further below in the present section). What we have here, therefore, is the formation of a web of patronage relationships that revolved around the family residing in Samaria. That Tel Reḥov played a prominent role in the political formation characterizing the region in the Iron Age IIA is clear from the fact that the site endured and maintained its material wealth in a period of social and political upheavals. This, in turn, made it a stable and strong component in the sociopolitical network upon which early monarchic Israel was eventually established. As Tel Reḥov was the only enduring political entity in the northern valleys, it had to be incorporated first into the polity centered on Tirzah, and then later into the one centered around Samaria. This is enough to suggest some sort of patronage relationship between the urban elite in Tel Reḥov and the highland seats in Tirzah and Samaria. Furthermore, it may be argued that the patronage relationship established between groups in northern Samaria and in the Beth-​Shean valley was central to the formation and maintenance of political hegemony in these regions. This point is mirrored by the available textual sources, namely the list of Israelite kings embedded in the Book of Kings,65 and some contemporaneous epigraphic finds (see below in this section). The only source which sheds any light on the formation of Israel prior to the Omrids is the Israelite kings’ list in Kings.66 According to the biblical narrative, the first king of Israel was Jeroboam, son of Nebat, an Ephratite from Zereda.67 Zereda (identified with Khirbet Bant Bar) was situated

64. 2 Kgs 8:28–​29; 9:14–​15. 65. 1 Kgs 15–​16. 66. Van Seters 1983: 297–​298; Na’aman 2006a. 67. 1 Kgs 11:26.

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Figure 48.8. Megiddo, Palace 6000, identified with the period of Omride rule. Courtesy of Israel Finkelstein and the Megiddo Expedition.

on the western and less populated slopes of the southern Samarian Hills, some 22 km west of Shiloh. Ephraim was the kinship group to which Jeroboam was affiliated. According to Kings, Jeroboam established his seat in Shechem, and from there he went out to build Penuel at the Jabbok Passage.68 Chronologically, Jeroboam must have been active during the early Iron Age IIA, a period that followed the destruction of Shiloh, Shechem, and Megiddo; this may explain how the leader of a clan from southern Samaria could have seized power in the region of Shechem. The fact that Jeroboam’s polity is archaeologically invisible may be explained by its nature as an alliance of clans, which, due to its short life span, did not reach a maturity expressed by the accumulation of wealth. Jeroboam’s son, Nadab, was murdered by Baasha, son of Ahiah, of the House of Issachar.69 The designation “House of Issachar” is a bit odd, 68. 1 Kgs 12:25. 69. 1 Kgs 15:27–​28.

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since Baasha is the only Israelite king whose kinship identity is designated as “House,” and the term “House of Issachar” is not mentioned again in the Bible. This may attest to the fact that Baasha’s origin had a specific meaning to the author of the Israelite kings’ list. Indeed, the tribal allotment of Issachar was located in the eastern parts of the Jezreel valley,70 and Baasha may well have come from a clan that was also settled in the lowlands. This is also the best explanation for the fact that Baasha established his residence in Tirzah,71 on the juncture connecting Shechem to Wadi Farʽah and to the Beth-​Shean valley. Interestingly, it seems that Baasha appointed Omri, the leader of a highland clan, to be the commander of his army.72 Key positions in the Iron Age Levantine polities were not kept solely for the members of the ruling family, but were also given to leaders of other clans in order to maintain their loyalty. This is best demonstrated by the fate of the Omride dynasty that replaced the House of Baasha on the throne after one generation. Jehu, son of Nimshi, was the commander of the Omride army,73 but he usurped their throne in a bloody coup and murdered all the Omride descendants in Israel.74 It also seems that Jehu’s origins were in the Beth-​Shean valley, and not in the Samarian Hills. The name Nimshi is inscribed on potsherds found at Tel ʽAmal and Tel Reḥov and dated to the late tenth and early ninth centuries bc.75 This implies that Nimshi was the name of a ruling family located in the Beth-​Shean valley, probably even with a residence in Tel Reḥov.76 Jehu’s position in the Omride army and that of Omri in Baasha’s army should therefore be seen against the segmented nature of early Iron Age polities: it was

70. Jos 19:18–​23; cf. Judg 5:16. 71. 1 Kgs 15:33. 72. 1 Kgs 16:16. 73. 2 Kgs 9. 74. 2 Kgs 9–​10; see Robker 2012. 75. Ahituv and Mazar 2014. 76. Mazar 2015: 41–​42.

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an expression of the close relationships entertained by the ruling family of the Samarian Hills and the ruling family of the Beth-​Shean valley. In order to ensure the loyalty of the Nimshids to the Omrids, Jehu was granted a key position in the polity formed by the alliance between the two families. Similarly, in order to secure the loyalty of the highland clans to a ruling family from the valleys, Baasha granted Omri, the leader of a strong highland clan, a key position in the polity he had formed.77 It seems, therefore, that at least in its early phases, the backbone of the Israelite polity was the alliance between two prominent families, one from the highlands and one from the lowlands. Both material and textual remains highlight the crucial role played by the valleys’ urban system and local clans in the formation of the Kingdom of Israel: whether it is the enduring role of Tel Reḥov within the emerging urban systems around it; or the epigraphic and the biblical sources implying the alliance of the Omrides with Baasha/​the Nimshids—​either way, all the available data point to the fact that the relations between ruling elites in northern Samaria and ruling elites in the northeastern valleys provided the platform on which the early Israelite monarchy was established. This conclusion underscores the significance of the Beth-​ Shean valley, and especially Tel Reḥov, in the formation of early monarchic Israel, which is too often thought to have originated exclusively in the highlands. The formation of the Kingdom of Israel was not a process of linear centralization culminating in political-​territorial expansion directed from the highlands toward the lowlands to the north, but rather of a variety of political configurations, consisting of both highland and lowland groups materializing and dispersing in a constant struggle for power between ruling families: the Omrids from the highland clans, Baasha and the Nimshids from the lowland clans. They were not distinct by their place of residence (lowlands or highlands) or their lifestyle (urban, rural, or pastoral) but by their kinship relations and alliances. The struggle for power between these families, as much as the alliances between them, resulted in the formation of the only polity to be known as Israel. 77. 1 Kgs 16:16.

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Unfortunately, there are no textual sources to shed light on the social or political identity of the Iron Age I highlands population. The well-​ known Merenptah Stele is dated to the late thirteenth century bc, prior to the massive sedentarization of the highlands. Its importance, however, lies in the fact that it attests to the existence of a non-​urban group named Israel (at least in the Egyptian perspective) in Canaan in late thirteenth century bc.78 If the Merenptah Stele says anything about Israel’s identity, it is a testimony to its association with kin.79 The next time the name Israel appears in textual sources some 350 years after Merenptah, in the Assyrian Kurkh Monolith, the Mesha Inscription, and the Tel Dan Stele, all dated to the second half of the ninth century bc, it refers exclusively to the territorial polity ruled by the Omrids. In the Kurkh Monolith of Shalmaneser III of Assyria (dated to 852 bc), the name Israel is applied to Ahab, who is identified as “Israelite,” and not as the king of Israel (as Omri and Joram are identified in the contemporaneous Mesha Stele and the Tel Dan Inscription, respectively). The name Israel, however, completely disappears from the textual record after the fall of the Omrids. All this attests to the fact that the name “Israel” was first and foremost associated with kin,80 and accordingly, it is reasonable to believe that Israel was the kinship group with which the Omrids were affiliated and by which they identified themselves. If, indeed, their home was in the region of Samaria, it may be argued that at least some of the mobile and sedentarized population in this region were affiliated with a kinship group named Israel. The size, extent, and exact nature of this group are relatively unknown. Since kinship relationships by their very nature are flexible, allowing the integration of different social groups into a common identity, the alliances formed by the Omrids (and probably also by their predecessors) were the political platforms on which social identity was negotiated and reconstructed. In this sense, it was the process of “state formation,” with its constant need to form politically and socially

78. Hasel 1998: 170–​204. 79. Monroe and Fleming 2019. 80. See also Weingart 2014: 171–​286, 340–​360.

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unified structures under a centralized rule, that generated the construction of an encompassing Israelite identity, incorporating different clans under the rule of an Israelite dynasty: the House of Omri. One last important point should be stressed against this background: it is clear that the sociopolitical formation of early monarchic Israel occurred exclusively in northern Samaria and the northern valleys. The accumulation of wealth, social hierarchy, and political formations, as they appear in the archaeological record, are situated exclusively to these regions and have not been detected anywhere south of Shechem. In fact, following the destruction of Tel Shiloh by the mid-​Iron Age I (ca. 1050 bc), there was no other urban center in the Samarian Hills south of Tirzah/​Samaria, and it seems therefore that none of the social configuration in northern Samaria and the Jezreel and Beth-​Shean valleys had any effect on the southern Samarian Hills or the region of Benjamin and Jerusalem further to the south. The latter, as I shall demonstrate below (section 48.3.4), followed a completely distinct course of sociopolitical evolution.

48.3.4.  The formation of Judah in Iron Age I–​IIA: archaeological and historical perspectives The dramatic shifts in the balance of power that characterized the Iron Age I–​IIA in the Samarian Hills (from Shechem to Tirzah and to Samaria) had little or no effect on the political formation in the south, around Jerusalem. Jerusalem was the seat of a local ruling elite as early as the second millennium bc,81 and yet, monumental architecture in the City of David appeared—​for the first time since the Middle Bronze Age—​only in the early Iron Age, with the erection of the “stepped stone structure” on the eastern slopes of the City of David. It is almost unanimously agreed that the foundations of this structure were laid no earlier than the mid-​late Iron Age I, namely in the late eleventh or early tenth century bc.82 The stepped stone structure, which stood out in the rural

81. Na’aman 1992. 82. Steiner 2001: 24–​36; Cahill 2003; Mazar 2006; 2020b; Sergi 2017a: 2–​5.

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landscape surrounding Jerusalem, marked it as a stronghold in the highlands, the seat of the ruling elite. In order to explain this social change, we must shift our attention from Jerusalem to its surroundings. Throughout the fourteenth to twelfth centuries bc, Jerusalem ruled over a barren land inhabited primarily by mobile-​pastoralists, while to its south there were some sedentary settlements. The eleventh century bc was characterized by massive sedentarization, and for the first time since the Middle Bronze Age, settlements were founded north of Jerusalem, on the Benjamin Plateau. However, to the south the number of sedentarized settlements did not increase critically.83 Hence, if the stepped stone structure reflected the establishment of a political power, it mainly imposed political authority over the settlers north of Jerusalem; they were the only inhabitants who could provide the kings of Jerusalem with the required (human and financial) resources, as well as the political motivation, to erect it. As demonstrated above, the cluster of settlements north of Jerusalem was rather isolated; the regions to the north of these settlements, between Bethel and Shiloh, as well as the regions south of Jerusalem, were less settled. Jerusalem, located at the southern end of this cluster, was the seat of local rulers since the second millennium bc, and by the late eleventh/​early tenth century bc, the stepped stone structure differentiated it from the rural settlements in the area. Thus, in the absence of territorial continuity and vis-​à-​vis Jerusalem’s long-​standing political status, it is difficult to believe that Shechem could have established its political hegemony over rural settlements located some 30–​40 km to its south, especially when Jerusalem’s political status was reaffirmed by the erection of the stepped stone structure. Moreover, during the early Iron Age IIA, and following the destruction of Shiloh and Shechem, there was no urban center in the Samarian Hills north of Jerusalem. Even when new urban centers emerged there in Tirzah and Samaria (only in the late Iron Age IIA), these were much more related to activity in the north, namely in northern Samaria and in the Jezreel and Beth-​Shean valleys (section 48.3.3). There should be little doubt, therefore, that the settlements in 83. Sergi 2017a.

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Benjamin related more to Jerusalem, the emerging center in their vicinity, than they did to those in the north. The construction of the stepped stone structure marks, therefore, the early emergence of a polity ruled from Jerusalem, and it is evident that the sedentarized population in the Benjamin Plateau was part of this polity from the very beginning. Throughout the Iron Age IIA and while Jerusalem rose as the main urban center of the Benjamin-​Judean highlands, the urban center in Tell es-​Ṣafi (ancient Gath), situated in the Judean Lowlands (also known as the Shephelah) about 50 km southwest of Jerusalem, grew to be the most prominent urban center in southern Canaan entirely, reaching a size of ca. 40–​50 hectares, and yielding a rich assemblage attesting to trade connections with the eastern Mediterranean. The prosperous urban center in Gath came, however, to an abrupt end in a massive destruction (ca. 840–​820 bc) mostly attributed to the campaigns of Hazael, king of Aram-​Damascus, to the southern Levant.84 To the south, massive sedentarization in the Beersheba and Arad valleys and in the Negev highlands had already begun in the late Iron Age I, but reached its zenith in the Iron Age IIA,85 the period when the copper production in the Arabah valley reached its peak.86 The material culture characterizing these sites reflects the sedentarization process of local, pastoral-​nomadic desert groups.87 Israel Finkelstein was the first to relate this unprecedented settlement wave in the arid Negev highlands to the contemporaneous Arabah copper production, arguing that the prosperity it brought to the south generated the process of sedentarization of the desert nomads who participated in the production and trade of the Arabah copper.88 This suggestion was further reinforced by

84. 1 Kgs 12:18. For Tell es-​Ṣafi, ancient Gath, see Maeir 2012; 2017; 2020. For the attribution of Gath’s destruction to Hazael, see Maeir 2004; Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2009. 85. Cohen and Cohen-​Amin 2004; Herzog and Singer-​Avitz 2004. 86. Levy et al. 2014; Ben-​Yosef 2016. 87. Finkelstein 1995b; Shahack-​Gross and Finkelstein 2008. 88. Finkelstein 2005.

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a petrographic study of the Negev highlands’ pottery assemblage, which revealed social and economic interactions (and possible population overlap) between the desert settlers and the copper production sites.89 Copper production in the Arabah abruptly ceased in the second half of the ninth century bc, and consequently all of the settlements in the Beersheba and Arad valleys and in the Negev highlands were abandoned. Radiocarbon dating suggests that the end of the Arabah copper production was contemporaneous with the destruction of Gath by Hazael, thus attesting to the relationship between Gath’s prosperity and the contemporaneous Arabah copper production.90 Evidently, throughout the tenth and ninth centuries bc, the lowlands to the west and south of Jerusalem were ruled by the prosperous urban center of Gath and a desert polity related to the Arabah copper production. Urban centers affiliated with Judah, like Tel Lachish IV and Tel Beth-​Shemesh 3 in the Judean Lowlands, Tel Beersheba V in the Beersheba valley, and the Judahite fortress at Tel Arad XI, are generally dated to the late Iron Age IIA, namely the ninth century bc.91 Yet, in light of Gath’s prosperity and the copper industry in Arabah, it is doubtful whether the rulers of Jerusalem were able to extend their political hegemony to the lowlands prior to the destruction of Gath. The expansion of Judahite political hegemony from Jerusalem and its surroundings to the lowlands should, therefore, be dated to the second half of the ninth century bc.92 Hence, even though political centralization occurred in Jerusalem already in the early tenth century bc, it was not before the demise of the Omrids and the fall of Gath in the second half of the ninth century bc that the rulers of Jerusalem could extend their political hegemony to the lowlands. Before moving on, it is important to note the difference between the nature of political formations in the Samarian Hills and in the

89. Martin and Finkelstein 2013. 90. Ben-​Yosef and Sergi 2018. 91. For Tel Lachish, see Ussishkin 2004; for Tel Beth-​Shemesh, see Bunimovitz and Lederman 2016; for Tel Beersheba, see Herzog 2016; for Tel Arad, see Herzog 2002. 92. Sergi 2013; Lehmann and Niemann 2014; Maeir 2020.

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Jerusalem-​Benjamin region: while the power balance in the north shifted, culminating in territorial expansion and the formation of the polity ruled by the Omrids, the south experienced what seems to have been an organic process of centralization of power in the hands of the ruling elite in Jerusalem, namely the House of David, which concluded with the formation of the territorial polity: the kingdom of Judah. Throughout this time the highlands between Bethel (and later Mizpah) in the south and Tirzah/​Samaria in the north lacked a political center, and thus it is hard to imagine that political developments in the north had any influence on the centralization of power in the south. It is evident, therefore, that Israel and Judah developed independently, side by side, throughout the tenth–​ninth centuries bc, and while the political formation of Israel was marked by struggles and shifting political alliances, that of Judah was marked by the centralization of power in the hands of the Davidic ruling family residing in Jerusalem.

48.3.5.  The formation of the Israelite monarchy: biblical perspective and the question of the United Monarchy, again The traditions about the formation of the monarchy are embedded in the biblical Books of Samuel,93 which tell us about Saul, the first king of the Israelites, who failed to establish a dynastic monarchy. He was succeeded by his rival, David, who succeeded exactly where Saul had failed; David established a long-​lasting dynastic monarchy and brought the Israelites and the Judahites under his rule. These traditions are usually attributed to two different textual sources: the early Saul traditions,94 and the stories about David’s rise.95 An additional narrative source, identified as the “Succession Narrative,”96 describes the birth 93. 1 Sam 9–​2 Sam 5. 94. 1 Sam 9–​14; see Kratz 2005: 171–​174; Dieterich 2007: 268–​291; Bezzel 2015. 95. 1 Sam 16–​2 Sam 5; see Kratz 2005: 181–​182; Dieterich 2007: 247–​248, 304–​308; Bezzel 2015: 228–​234. 96. 2 Sam 9–​20 and 1 Kgs 1–​2.

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and accession of Solomon and the revolts of Absalom and Sheba against David.97 There is little doubt that the Succession Narrative presupposes a great united monarchy, which encompassed both Israel and Judah and was ruled by David (and later Solomon) from Jerusalem.98 The geopolitical realia depicted in the early Saul traditions and in the stories about David’s ascent to power portray, however, a completely different scenario. In spite of the fact that Saul is portrayed as the first king of Israel,99 nothing in the early Saul traditions betrays a northern Israelite point of view: the entire hill country north of Bethel, which was at the heart of the kingdom of Israel, is completely absent; the main political centers of Israel (Shechem, Tirzah, Samaria), the importance of the cult place in Bethel, the Israelite royal cities in the northern valleys or the Israelite cult centers in the Gilead, most notably Penuel—​are all nowhere present in the narrative. The geopolitical picture that arises from these traditions better reflects a Jerusalemite point of view: Saul’s main sphere of influence was in the Benjamin Plateau and the southern Ephraim hill country, regions where the rural population was contravened by the Philistines, the inhabitants of the urban centers in the Shephelah.100 These characteristics draw the line between the more urban societies of southwestern Canaan and the rural societies of the Benjamin-​Jerusalem region prior to the Iron Age IIB. Similarly, the geographical scope of the stories about David’s rise is restricted to the Judah-​Benjamin highlands and their foothills, while the Philistines control the Judean Lowlands to the west.101 Accordingly, David is quite independent (as a leader of a warrior band) whenever he

97. Since Rost’s (1926) seminal study, the thesis that this material forms an independent narrative has been broadly accepted in biblical scholarship, even when modified (see, e.g., the papers published in Römer and de Pury 2000). 98. E.g., 2 Sam 20. 99. E.g., 1 Sam 14. 100. 1 Sam 13:20, 14:31. 101. 1 Sam 16–​2 Sam 5.

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acts in the Judean Hills and their foothills,102 but he is at the service of the king of Gath whenever he crosses to the west or the south.103 This geopolitical scenario is further highlighted by the importance of Gath in these stories.104 Gath reached its zenith during the tenth–​ninth centuries bc, but it was utterly destroyed in the last third of the ninth century and never regained its former power. The stories in 1 Sam 16–​2 Sam 5, like those in 1 Sam 9–​14 are, therefore, consistent with the social and political reality in south Canaan during the tenth–​ninth centuries bc and prior to the Judahite expansion to the lowlands.105 This is also evidenced by the fact that all these traditions fail to mention Lachish, the main royal Judahite town in the Shephelah from the second half of the ninth century bc. Hence, it seems safe to conclude that both the early Saul traditions and the stories about David’s rise were well acquainted with the geopolitical settings in southern Canaan during the Iron Age IIA and therefore they probably reflect the Judahite (or, better, the Jerusalemite) and not the Israelite point of view. In spite of this, it is clear that David and Saul were characterized in these traditions as the kings of Israel (and not Judah). The question therefore remains: to what kind of identity did the term “Israel” in these traditions refer? The stories about Saul’s wars with the Philistines in 1 Samuel 13–​14 presuppose his kingship over Israel.106 The name Israel is mentioned fourteen times in this passage; in most of these cases it clearly refers to a group of people. Hence, “Israel” in this context is the designation of a kinship group and not of a territorial polity. The text identifies the Israelites as a composite clan/​tribal society settled in the Benjamin Plateau and in the southern Ephraim hill country.107 It also reflects the complexity of the Israelite kinship group, which 102. 1 Sam 23–​26 and 2 Sam 5. 103. Cf. 1 Sam 27, 29–​30. 104. 1 Sam 17:4, 23, 52; 21:11, 13; 27:2–​4, 11. 105. See already Na’aman 1996; 2002a. 106. Cf. 1 Sam 11:15, 14:47. 107. 1 Sam 13:4–​6, 20, 14:22–​24.

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consisted of different clans (like the Benjaminites) that were brought together under a single kinship identity. A Benjaminite,108 Saul was also considered an Israelite, and that means that the early Saul traditions never portrayed Saul as the king of Israel, related to the northern polity formed by the Omrids far to the north, in the region of Shechem and Samaria. Rather, they portray Saul as a local hero who came to rule his Israelite kinsmen residing in the Benjamin Plateau, north of Jerusalem. A similar portrayal of Israel as a kinship group characterizes the stories of David’s rise and especially the stories of his service in Saul’s court.109 These stories presuppose an early monarchic political landscape, where marriage and personal alliances were factors in establishing political hegemony.110 Like the early Saul traditions, the traditions about David’s rise portray the establishment of kingship over Israel, with Israel referring to a group of people and not to the northern territorial polity.111 That means that the two sets of traditions—​the Saul traditions and the David traditions—​both identify the Israelites as a composite of kinship groups residing in the region of Jerusalem and Benjamin. They portray, accordingly, how both Saul and David tried to establish their hegemony over the same group of people—​the Israelites in the Jerusalem and the Benjamin regions. Eventually, the kingdom ruled by the House of David from Jerusalem began to be called Judah, but that does not mean that “Judahites” were the sole social component. Evidently, the Israelites of Benjamin also came under the rule of the House of David, as probably did some Hivites, Kenites, and Jebusites. Furthermore, even though David was probably the founder of Judah, he himself was not Judahite. Nowhere in the stories of his rise to kingship is David identified as a Judahite. On the contrary, it is stated that his family originated from an Ephrathite

108. 1 Sam 9:1. 109. 1 Sam 18–​19, and cf. 2 Sam 5:1–​2. 110. Cf. 1 Sam 17:58, 18:2, 17. 111. Willi-​Plein 2004.

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clan (thus, Israelite) that settled in Bethlehem,112 and in the stories about his ascent, David is identified as Israelite at least three more times.113 Of specific interest are David’s words to Saul (“Who am I? And who are my kindred or my father’s clan in Israel that I should become the king’s son-​ in-​law?”),114 which explicitly express the association of Israel with a kinship group consisting of several clans, to which David’s family belongs. It is therefore evident that according to the traditions embedded in Samuel, both Saul and David were affiliated with a kinship group named Israel, which consisted of several clans that settled north (Benjaminite clans) and south (Ephrathite clans) of Jerusalem. In addition to Israelite clans, Judahite and Jebusite clans also inhabited this region,115 and eventually, as was demonstrated in the archaeological discussion above, all these clans came under the political hegemony of the House of David, whose seat was established in Jerusalem.116 In that sense, the Israelite monarchy portrayed in both the early Saul traditions and the stories about David’s rise is not a “United Monarchy” encompassing both Israel and Judah, but rather a kin-​based entity, encompassing the Israelite communities who resided in the Jerusalem-​Benjamin highlands. Against this background, the great United Monarchy presupposed by the Succession Narrative117 has nothing to do with the portrayal of Saul’s and David’s kingdoms in 1 Samuel 9–​2 Samuel 5. As the Succession Narrative is almost unanimously dated to no earlier than the eighth century bc, it probably does not reflect the geopolitical reality of the tenth century bc (section 48.5.2).118

112. 1 Sam 17:12; see Na’aman 2014a. 113. 1 Sam 18:18; 27:12; 2 Sam 5:1. 114. 1 Sam 18:18. 115. 2 Sam 2:1–​4; 5:6. 116. Na’aman 2015a. 117. 2 Sam 9–​20 and 1 Kgs 1–​2. 118. Sergi 2017b (with further literature).

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What can we say about the historicity of the Saul and David stories in the Book of Samuel? Indeed, the biblical traditions about Saul and David in 1 Samuel 9–​2 Samuel 5 are, to a large extent, legendary, and there can be little doubt that they were composed much later than the events they depict. Thus, these stories cannot be read as an accurate documentation of historical events. Still, they are well acquainted with the geopolitical realia of Judah and Jerusalem in the tenth–​ninth centuries bc, and accordingly, they may preserve some general knowledge of past events related to the establishment of a dynastic monarchy in Jerusalem: both Saul and David are portrayed as newly formed ruling elite, who rose to power among their own kinsmen, the so-​called Israelites, by means of agricultural wealth, military skills, and familial relationships. This depiction correlates well with the way we understand the social evolution that generated state formation in the Iron Age Levant. In this regard, the early traditions about Saul and David preserved the memory of a struggle for power in the early monarchic period: the rise of dynastic monarchy in Jerusalem was the result of a struggle between two Israelite ruling families engaged in an attempt to establish their political hegemony over their own Israelite kinsmen settled in the regions north and south of Jerusalem. To sum up, Israel was first and foremost a kinship identity, and by the late thirteenth century bc a kinship group named Israel already resided in Canaan. The name Israel, however, maintained its kinship association even during the monarchic period, and eventually it was two Israelite dynasties—​the Omrids from Samaria and the Davidids from Jerusalem—​that by the Iron Age IIA came to rule Israelite and other communities that settled in the central Canaanite hill country.

48.3.6.  The campaign of Sheshonq I (Shishak) to Canaan The campaign of Sheshonq I, king of Egypt (943–​922 bc; biblical Shishak),119 to Canaan in the second half of the tenth century bc is the first historical event documented in the Bible that finds support in an extra-​biblical 119. 1 Kgs 14:25–​28.

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documentation—​the relief on the Bubastite portal in the Temple of Karnak. In addition to that, a stele of Sheshonq I was found in Megiddo (not from a clear archaeological context, however) that provides further information regarding the campaign. Sheshonq I was the first king of the Libyan Twenty-​ second Dynasty (­chapter 35 in this volume), based in the north of Egypt, and he ascended his throne during the period of political fragmentation which followed the demise of the New Kingdom in the twelfth century bc (­chapter 27 in volume 3). During the first years of his reign, Sheshonq managed to consolidate his political rule over the entirety of Egypt, reuniting the south and the north. This is the context for his policy in Canaan.120 Sheshonq’s Karnak relief, accordingly, was modeled in light of New Kingdom’s reliefs; however, the list of place names included in this traditional scene accurately reflects the settlement pattern in Canaan during the early Iron Age IIA.121 The list contains the names of places purportedly captured during Sheshonq’s campaign, and they are clustered in the Negev highlands and the Beersheba and Arad valleys; southwest Canaan; the Jezreel valley; the Benjamin region, north of Jerusalem; and the central Jordan valley, on the Jabbok Passage. These place names do not point to a large-​scale campaign, but rather to individual operations carried out by different military units, as was the usual practice for Egyptian campaigns.122 They also demonstrate that Sheshonq directed these operations to the trade routes and main passages in Canaan. The many desert sites mentioned in the list reflect the massive early Iron Age IIA sedentarization of the Negev highlands and the Beersheba and Arad valleys that occurred in conjunction with the Arabah copper industry (section 48.3.4). It seems, therefore, that Sheshonq I’s intention was to dominate the production and trade of copper, as may also be deduced from the overall reorganization of copper production during the same period.123 Lastly, as there are no destruction-​layers associated with Sheshonq I’s

120. Schipper 1999: 119–​132. 121. Finkelstein 2002. 122. Schipper 1999: 125–​129. 123. Ben-​Yosef et al. 2010; Levy et al. 2014.

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campaign to Canaan,124 and in light of the stele he erected in Megiddo, it seems that he was trying to dominate the main trade routes and, like his New Kingdom predecessors, to renew or at least to demonstrate Egyptian presence in Canaan, especially toward the developing territorial kingdoms. In any event, this campaign had no long-​lasting effect in Canaan; soon after the death of Sheshonq I, Egypt fell again to a period of political fragmentation, which ended any form of Egyptian presence in the Levant for almost two hundred years. The Karnak reliefs mention sites in Benjamin, north of Jerusalem, but Jerusalem itself is missing from the list. In spite of this, a short account embedded within the regnal formula of Solomon’s son Rehoboam in the Book of Kings125 describes how “Shishak went on” to Jerusalem and collected the tribute of Rehoboam. Clearly, the narrator was not fully aware of the scale and extent of Sheshonq’s presence in late tenth-​century Canaan. Still, the factual nature of the report, which lacks an explicit theological message, as well as the fact that it knows the name of the Egyptian king and the period in which he reigned—​indicates that it is based on a reliable historical report about Rehoboam’s subjugation to Sheshonq. Accordingly, and since the settlement pattern (section 48.3.4) indicates that the Benjamin Plateau was affiliated with Jerusalem no later than the early tenth century bc, it should be concluded that the appearance of the Benjaminite sites in Sheshonq’s list represents the early stages of the formation of Judah, and if so, it was probably the growing power of the newly formed highland polity that attracted Egyptian attention toward Benjamin.

48.4.  Israel and Judah in the ninth century bc

48.4.1.  The kingdom of Israel in the ninth century bc: the rise and fall of the Omride Dynasty The Omrids’ rule over vast and diverse territories provided them with various economic resources necessary for maintaining their building

124. Herzog and Singer Avitz 2004. 125. 1 Kgs 14:25–​28.

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projects and army. Northern Samaria, the Jezreel valley, and the Beth-​ Shean valley provided essential agricultural products like grains, wine, and oil, and the central Transjordanian Plateau and the central Jordan valley, positioned along important south-​north trade routes, gave the Omrids access to the profitable trade in copper produced in the Arabah. The Omrids also controlled the important east-​west route across the Jezreel valley, which connected it with the Phoenician littoral to the west and with Damascus to the east.126 Alongside their territorial expansion, the Omrids extended their political alliances with their neighboring rulers, especially on the Phoenician Coast, in Damascus to the north, and in Judah to the south. Omri married Ahab, his son and heir, to the daughter of the king of Tyre and Sidon,127 and he gave his daughter Athaliah to the crown prince of Judah, Jehoram son of Jehoshaphat. Diplomatic marriages were a common means for achieving cooperation and collaboration between rulers of kin-​based societies, and in some cases, they were also used to make one ruling house subordinate to another. Their political alliance with the House of David certainly secured the Omrids’ interests regarding the most dominant polity in southern Canaan—​the kingdom of Gath. The alliance with the Phoenicians enabled trade in luxury goods, as can be seen in the intensified consumption of Cypriot ware (originating in Phoenician maritime trade) in the Israelite urban and royal centers.128 The alliance with Phoenicia had another aspect, which should be seen in the wider context of the Syro-​Canaanite resistance to the mounting Assyrian presence in the Levant. By 854 bc, the Assyrian kings Ashurnasirpal II (883–​859 bc) and his son and successor Shalmaneser III (858–​824 bc) had extended their hegemony over most of the newly established Syro-Anatolian territorial kingdoms,129 and from 853 bc onward, Shalmaneser III focused his efforts on the southern Levant. An alliance

126. Finkelstein 2013: 112–​113. 127. 1 Kgs 16:31. 128. Kleiman et al. 2019; Mazar and Kourou 2019. 129. Frahm 2017: 167–​173; see chapter 46 in this volume.

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formed by a dozen rulers from the southern Levant in order to face the Assyrian invasions managed to block Shalmaneser in central Syria repeatedly in 853, 849, 848, and 845 bc. According to Shalmaneser’s annals, as inscribed on the so-​called Kurkh Monolith in 852 bc, the three kings who contributed the main body of the fighting forces in the Battle of Qarqar in 853 bc were Hadda-​idri, king of Aram-​Damascus, Urhilina (Assyrian Irhulenu) of Hamath, and Ahab, the Israelite. It seems that the same anti-​Assyrian coalition confronted Shalmaneser III also in 849, 848, and 845 bc, and thus Israel, under the rule of Joram, son of Ahab (ca. 851–​841 bc), kept its important role in the alliance throughout the 840s bc.130 In spite of its relative success in blocking Shalmaneser’s advance, the Syro-​Canaanite alliance came to an end by 841 bc. In that year, Shalmaneser III campaigned against Aram-​Damascus, while Hamath allowed him to pass through its territory, and Jehu, the new king of Israel, was subjugated to him and paid tribute. The Assyrian annals, which document the events of 841 bc,131 also attest to the dynastic changes that occurred in two of the leading members of the former anti-​Assyrian alliance: Israel and Aram-​Damascus. By 841 bc, the ruler of Damascus was Hazael, who is otherwise considered a usurper;132 the ruler of Israel in the Assyrian annals was Jehu, who according to the Book of Kings had usurped the Omride throne following a defeat in the battle of Ramoth-​Gilead that was fought against the same Hazael of Damascus. The battle of Ramoth-​Gilead (842/​841 bc), which is most likely celebrated by the Tel Dan Stele (figure 48.4), must have preceded Shalmaneser III’s campaign to Damascus and Israel in 841 bc, and it marked the end of the Israelite-​Damascene alliance. It is impossible to

130. Yamada 2000: 143–​162; Younger 2007. 131. Yamada 2000: 188–​195. 132. Both an Assyrian summary inscription (Grayson 2002: 62–​71) and a prophetic tradition preserved in the Book of Kings (2 Kgs 8:7–​15) present Hazael as a usurper.

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accurately define the reasons which led to such an end, but the dynastic changes in Damascus must have played an important role.133 Be that as it may, the result remains: the last Omride king of Israel, Joram, son of Ahab, went to war against Hazael of Damascus in Ramoth-​ Gilead (northern Transjordan). He was assisted by Ahaziah, son of Jehoram (and Athaliah), king of Judah, who was also Joram’s cousin.134 The two kings were defeated and both subsequently died, either in battle (according to the Tel Dan Stele) or immediately afterwards (in Jehu’s revolt according to the Book of Kings).135 Seen in a broader perspective, the defeat in Gilead, which marked the end of the Omride rule, was only the final blow to an already weakened power. It was at approximately the same time that Israel lost its hold in central Transjordan, when a local leader, Mesha the Dibonite, threw off the Omride yoke and established his own rule in what came to be known as the kingdom of Moab.136 The declining power of the Omrids in the southern Levant, possibly a result of their constant military conflicts with Assyria, enabled the subsequent rise of the Aramean hegemony. Assyrian succession wars and domestic problems that followed the death of Shalmaneser III in 824 bc resulted in their retreat from the Levant, and this, in turn, left the region vacant for the expansion of Damascene hegemony led by Hazael. Although the exact extent and nature of Hazael’s hegemony in the Levant are debated, the available epigraphic sources leave little doubt regarding his lasting influence on the social, economic, and political structure of the southern Levant.137 During the last third of the ninth century bc, Hazael conducted destructive campaigns against Israel and Gath: the late Iron Age IIA destruction and abandonment of all Israelite urban and royal centers in the northern

133. For the battle and the sources relating to it, see Sergi 2017c. 134. 2 Kgs 8:28–​29. 135. 2 Kgs 9–​10. 136. Knauf 1992; Routledge 2004. 137. Niehr 2011; Younger 2016: 591–​630.

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valleys is associated with Hazael,138 as is also the massive destruction inflicted on the thriving city of Gath. With the fall of Gath, the thriving Arabah copper industry also came to an abrupt end. The last decades of the ninth century bc were characterized, therefore, by the fall of the three most powerful polities of the tenth-​ninth centuries bc—​Israel, Gath, and the copper-​producing polity in the Arabah valley, all of which came to an end as a result of Aramean policy of expansion. This left the region vacant for the growth and further development of smaller marginal polities, like Judah, Moab, and Ammon, but probably also the kingdom of Geshur in the northern Jordan valley.139 The reigns of the two first Nimshid kings, Jehu (ca. 841–​813 bc) and his son Joahaz (ca. 814–​800 bc), were overshadowed by the Aramean hegemony and the dominant position of Hazael in the southern Levant, and their reigns are commemorated as a period of subjugation to Aram-​ Damascus.140 Two enormously significant regions in Israelite society and economy, namely the Jezreel and Beth-​Shean valleys, were left abandoned in the wake of Hazael’s destructive campaigns. Consequently, throughout the final decades of the ninth century bc, Nimshid political hegemony, executed from Samaria, was restricted to the Samarian Hills alone.

48.4.2.  The kingdom of Judah in the ninth century bc: gradual growth The Tel Dan Stele (figure 48.4) is the only extra-​biblical source that refers to Judah and the House of David in the ninth century bc, though only incidently: it mentions the death of Ahaziah, son of Jehoram, king of the “House of David,” while describing the Damascene victory over Joram, son of Ahab. Within the overall literary context of the inscription, which focuses on the Israelite-​Damascene conflict, Judah seems

138. Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2009; Kleiman 2016. 139. Sergi and Kleiman 2018. 140. 2 Kgs 13:3–​8, 22–​24.

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to be a marginal polity, dependent on its northern neighbor. The scant information in Kings paints a similar picture, as most of it deals with the relationship between the Davidic kings and their Israelite counterparts.141 Undoubtedly, the kingdom of Israel had a significant role in the history of Judah at the time. By the first half of the ninth century bc, the power exerted by the Davidic kings was restricted to the southern parts of the central Canaanite hill country and probably parts of the eastern Shephelah. Their alliance with the Omrids was sealed by the marriage of Jehoram, son of Jehoshaphat, to Athaliah, an Omride princess, probably the daughter of Omri himself.142 Ahaziah, the son of this union, inherited the throne of Judah and personified the bond between the two royal houses. The presence of an Omride princess in the Jerusalem court, and the fact that Ahaziah was a descendant of both royal houses, secured the Davidic kings’ loyalty to the Omride kings of Israel, as also evidenced by the fact that both the narrative in the Book of Kings143 and the Tel Dan Stele (lines 7–​9) indicate that the kings of Judah lent military help to the Omrids even when this endangered their own throne.144 Indeed, the Davidic-​Omride alliance was brought to a tragic end with the battle of Ramoth-​Gilead in 842/​841 bc (section 48.4.1). This battle had a major destabilizing effect not only in Israel (with Jehu’s usurpation), but also in Judah, as Ahaziah’s mother, Athaliah the daughter of Omri, seized the throne.145 In spite of the negative depiction of Athaliah in Kings, she could well have been regarded as a legitimate (though only temporary) regent or co-​ruler on the throne of David. Nevertheless, by the time she assumed the throne, the power and hegemony of her birth family, the Omrids, had weakened. This was probably the main reason behind the

141. Cf. 1 Kgs 15:17–​22; 22:1–​38, 45, 48–​50; 2 Kgs 3:3–​27; 8:18–​19, 26, 28–​29; 11:1–​20. 142. 1 Kgs 22:45; 2 Kgs 8:18, 26. 143. E.g., 1 Kgs 22:1–​38, 45; 2 Kgs 3:4–​27; 8:28–​29. 144. Sergi 2013. 145. 2 Kgs 11:1–​-​3.

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court revolution led by Jehoiada, during which Athaliah was dethroned and executed as a usurper and Jehoash (ca. 836–​800 bc) was crowned as a Davidic king, the son of Ahaziah.146 Despite this tragic end, the kings of Judah benefited greatly from their alliance with the Omrids. First and foremost, it meant that the House of David won the implied support and protection of one of the most powerful dynasties in the southern Levant. Furthermore, biblical and extra-​biblical sources reveal that the Davidic and Omride kings maintained close political and military connections. This, together with the presence of an Omride princess and her entourage in Jerusalem, indicates that the Omrids exerted direct influence on the Jerusalem court. In this context, it is not surprising that Jehoram was the first Judahite king to whom the biblical narrative attributed an expansionist policy, pursued through military campaigns.147 His marriage to Athaliah likely gave him the opportunity to pursue his territorial ambitions with at least Omride consent, if not their explicit support.148 The Omride hegemony over Jerusalem may therefore provide the historical context for Judah’s emergence as a territorial kingdom later in the ninth century bc. Judah’s expansion to the west and south did not begin before the early ninth century bc, and could only be completed following the destruction of Gath. Therefore, we should attribute the main phases of Judahite expansion, including the fortification of Lachish (Level IV), and the incorporation of the Shephelah and the Beersheba and Arad valleys under Davidic rule, to king Jehoash son of Ahaziah (ca. 836–​800 bc). In this context it is easy to understand Jehoash’s subjugation to Hazael.149 Hazael destroyed Gath, causing the demise of the economic and political system in the Judean Lowlands, and providing Jehoash with his opportunity to establish Judahite hegemony there. It may be assumed

146. 2 Kgs 11:4–​20; see Sergi 2015. 147. 2 Kgs 8:20–​22. 148. Sergi 2013. 149. 2 Kgs 12:18–​19.

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that the Jehoash’s subjection to Hazael included the granting of territories to Judah in return for his loyalty, or that, at the very least, Hazael turned a blind eye to the Judahite king’s expansionist policy. The temporary independence that Judah gained during the reign of Jehoash was probably the reason for the subsequent clash with Israel during the reign of his son, Amaziah, when Israel regained dominance in the region.150 From an archaeological point of view, throughout the ninth century bc the settlement of the City of David intensified, extending to the southern parts of the ridge and also to its western slope.151 Massive fortifications were probably erected by the second half of the century, mainly around the Gihon spring;152 evidence also suggests that by the late ninth or early eighth century bc an administrative apparatus and literate elite were active in Jerusalem (section 48.5.3). The accumulation of wealth in Jerusalem and its growth by the end of the ninth century bc should be seen against the expansion of Davidic rule from the highlands to the lowlands throughout that century. By the end of the ninth century Judah was, therefore, a small but relatively wealthy territorial polity in southern Canaan.

48.5.  Iron Age IIB and the zenith of Israel and Judah

48.5.1.  The zenith of Israel: the kingdom of Israel in the eighth century bc By the end of the ninth century bc, Adad-​nerari III, king of Assyria (810–​783 bc), resumed the Assyrian campaigns to the Levant.153 Bar-​ Hadad, son of Hazael, engaged in a failed attempt to re-​establish an

150. 2 Kgs 14:8–​14. 151. De Groot and Greenberg 2012: 141–​186; Ben-​Ami 2014; Shalev et al. 2020 . 152. Uziel and Szanton 2015; 2017; Uziel and Gadot 2017; Regev et al. 2017. 153. For the reign of Adad-​nerari III of Assyria, see Siddall 2013.

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anti-​Assyrian coalition,154 but eventually the Assyrians managed to subjugate Damascus, thus bringing Damascene hegemony in the southern Levant to an end.155 Assyria campaigned against Damascus again in the 770s bc; however, following the reign of Adad-​nerari III, the power of Assyrian rulers weakened, and the Assyrian governor in Syria, Šamši-​ ilu, was kept busy with campaigns on the Assyrian northern frontier.156 This, in turn, enabled the revival of Israel under the last Nimshid rulers. Joash (ca. 800–​784 bc), son of Joahaz, is mentioned as paying tribute to Adad-​nerari III in the Tell al-​Rimah Stele, and according to Kings, he “took again from Bar-​Hadad son of Hazael the cities that he had taken from Jehoahaz, his father, in war.”157 Joash’s subsequent attack on Judah should be seen in the context of the victory over Damascus:158 Joash seems to have focused his efforts on re-​establishing the Israelite hegemony in the southern Levant, lost since the fall of the Omrids. These attempts were successful, and the fruits of that success were particularly evident during the reign of his son and heir, Jeroboam II (ca. 784–​746 bc), who brought Israel to its zenith as a territorial polity.159 The Book of Kings attributes vast territorial expansion to the reign of Jeroboam II—​from the kingdom of Hamath in the north to the Dead Sea in the south.160 In contrast to these grandiose claims, it seems that the actual level of territorial expansion was more modest. However, it is true that Israel not only reclaimed the territories ruled formerly by the Omrids but even expanded beyond them:

154. As may be inferred from the stele of Zakkur, king of Hamath; cf. Younger 2016: 476–​486. 155. For the reign of Bar-​Hadad, see Younger 2016: 632–​642. 156. Frahm 2017: 173–​176. 157. 2 Kgs 13:25. 158. 2 Kgs 14:8–​14. 159. For a comprehensive discussion of Jeroboam II’s reign over Israel, see Finkelstein 2013: 129–​140. 160. 2 Kgs 14:25.

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(1) In the north, it seems that Jeroboam II ruled the entire northern Jordan and Huleh valleys as far as Tel Dan, regions that were beyond the Omride rule, which extended only as far as Tel Hazor;161 (2) Hints in Amos 6:11–​14 about an Israelite victory in the northern Transjordan may provide evidence for northeastern expansion; (3) Epigraphic and iconographic finds suggest that Jeroboam II also extended his rule into the south: various ink inscriptions and paintings found in the desert site of Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, on the road leading from the Gulf of Aqaba gulf to Gaza, indicate that the site was affiliated with Jeroboam’s Israel, and thus also attests to Jeroboam’s involvement in the lucrative South Arabian trade.162 The renewal of Israelite hegemony in the Jezreel valley is demonstrated by the Iron Age IIB fortification of the urban centers in Yoqne’am XII and Megiddo IVA, which had been abandoned since Hazael’s assault in the late ninth century bc. The layout of Megiddo IVA, however, completely differs from the plan it followed in the Late Bronze Age to Iron Age IIA: during the period, most of the area of the city was allocated to public features, such as the city-​wall, the water-​system, the governor’s residence in Building 338, and the two monumental stable complexes that replaced two former Omride palaces (figure 48.6).163 Megiddo IVA functioned, accordingly, as a breeding and training center for chariot and cavalry horses, which were probably traded between Egypt and the Northern Levant/​Assyria.164 The stamp of “Shema’ the Servant of Jeroboam” should be associated with Level IVA and the Megiddo horse

161. Arie 2008. 162. For the results of the excavations at Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, see Meshel 2012. For further discussion of the site, its affiliation with Jeroboam II’s Israel, and the meaning of the painting and inscriptions found in it, see Na’aman 2015b; Ornan 2016. For Jeroboam II and the South Arabian trade routes, see Finkelstein 2013: 135–​138; 2015. 163. For Megiddo Level IVA and the Israelite “horse industry,” see Cantrell and Finkelstein 2006. 164. Cantrell and Finkelstein 2006; Cantrell 2011: 87–​113.

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“industry,” thus providing further attestation to the wealth acquired by Jeroboam II through his far-​reaching commercial contacts. The Book of Kings attributes the erection of the central royal sanctuaries at Dan and Bethel to Jeroboam I, but Tel Dan was only sparsely settled in the Iron Age IIA and it did not become a well-​fortified urban center with a large sanctuary on its summit before the Iron Age IIB.165 It seems, therefore, that the erection of the royal sanctuaries in Dan and Bethel should be attributed to Jeroboam II,166 in what seems to be an overall reorganization toward a more centralized cult.167 Cult centralization fits well within the overall context of political and territorial triumph; it reinforced the king’s centralized rule, and it was often accompanied with extensive literary production.168 Scholars attribute much of what seems to be Israelite material in the Bible—​like the pre-​priestly Jacob story, the core story of the Exodus, the pre-​Deuteronomistic Book of Judges, and some of the royal accounts in Kings—​to the reign of Jeroboam II.169 Even if only some of this material was composed and redacted by the royal scribes of Jeroboam II, it would be enough to also attribute cultural achievements to his rule. In sum, the archaeological finds together with the (admittedly meager) textual sources portray Israel under the reign of Jeroboam II as a thriving polity, which dominated much of the southern Levant, and engaged in lucrative international trade. It was, however, Israel’s swan song: following Jeroboam’s death, the kingdom succumbed to a series of succession wars that were soon overshadowed by the effects of the Assyrian Empire’s renewed presence in the Levant. Now it was Tiglath-​ pileser III who conducted destructive campaigns throughout the Levant, and succeeded in establishing direct Assyrian rule over most of that

165. Arie 2008. 166. Berlejung 2009; Römer 2017. 167. Na’aman 2002b; Finkelstein 2013: 138–​139. 168. Na’aman 2006b. 169. For the pre-​priestly Jacob narrative, see Blum 2012. For the pre-​Deuteronomistic Book of Judges, see Groß 2009. For the Book of Kings, see Robker 2012.

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region. Under these new circumstances, many of the Iron Age Levantine territorial polities were wiped out and absorbed into the newly established Assyrian geopolitical order. Israel was among them.

48.5.2.  The zenith of Judah: the Kingdom of Judah in the eighth century bc Little is known about Judah during the eighth century prior to the Assyrian campaigns of 734–​701 bc. Political instability in the House of David persisted, as both Jehoash170 and his son Amaziah171 were murdered, though the exact circumstances behind these assassinations remain unknown. The reigns of Amaziah (ca. 800–​771 bc) and his son Azariah (ca. 771–​735 bc) were also characterized by the expanding Israelite hegemony in the southern Levant, though Amaziah tried, at least initially, to resist it: according to the Book of Kings, Joash, king of Israel, defeated Amaziah near Beth-​Shemesh, moved on to sack Jerusalem, and eventually took Amaziah himself in captivity in Samaria.172 Azariah, Amaziah’s son, probably reigned as a regent until his father was released from captivity during the reign of Jeroboam II.173 The early eighth-​century bc destruction of the thriving urban center in Tel Beth-​Shemesh Level 3 might be associated with these events. Despite Azariah’s long reign, some of it probably with his son Jotham (ca. 741–​735 bc) as a co-​regent,174 the Book of Kings provides almost no information on his rule, except for a rather enigmatic note stating that he “fortified/​built Elath and restored it to Judah.”175 Indeed, Azariah reigned over Judah during a relatively peaceful period, under the

170. 2 Kgs 12:21–​22. 171. 2 Kgs 14:19–​20. 172. 2 Kgs 14:8–​14. 173. For a historical reconstruction, see Na’aman 2008. 174. 2 Kgs 15:5. 175. 2 Kgs 14:22.

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dominant power of Jeroboam II, to whom Azariah must have been loyal. It is probably within this context that we should consider the short comment about the restoration of Elath: the site itself can probably be associated with Ezion-​gaber,176 which has been identified as Tell el-​Kheleifah in the Gulf of Aqaba. The region was not settled before the eighth century bc, and it flourished throughout the eighth and seventh centuries bc on the strength of the thriving South Arabian trade. Since Jeroboam II controlled at least one important site along the trade routes (Kuntillet ‘Ajrud), it is plausible that Judah, with Israelite consent and auspices, also benefited from the South Arabian trade.177 Whether this is accurate or not, what is certainly true is that during the period when Jeroboam II ruled Israel Judah experienced economic growth. From an archaeological point of view, by the Iron Age IIB period, settlement intensified in the Judean Lowlands, reaching a peak that would only be matched in the Hellenistic period. Urban centers flourished in the eastern Shephelah (e.g., Tell ‘Eitun, Tel Beit-​Mirsim, Tel Beth-​Shemesh, Tel Azekah) while Tel Lachish (Level III), in the western Shephelah, thrived as a royal Judahite town, an administrative center for Judahite/​Davidic rule in the region.178 Also the Tel Beersheba and Arad valleys saw an increase in settlement, with Tel Beersheba (Levels III–​II) thriving as a community situated on the gateway to the South Arabian trade routes.179 In Jerusalem, by the late eighth century bc, settlement had expanded from the City of David to the western hill and somewhat later the entire western and eastern (City of David) hills were surrounded by a massive, thick, fortification wall with projecting towers. Various finds, among them epigraphic finds of different sorts, made Jerusalem of the late eighth century a relatively wealthy southern Levantine capital.

176. Cf. 1 Kgs 9:26. 177. Na’aman 1993; Finkelstein 2015a. 178. For Judah in the eighth century, see Faust 2018. For the centrality of Lachish, see Lipschits et al. 2011. 179. Singer-​Avitz 1999.

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How to explain Judah’s growth during this time has been long debated. Was it the result of a natural process of gradual growth that began in the ninth century bc and culminated by the late eighth century bc?180 Or did a more sudden growth spurt take place as the result of Israelites fleeing the Assyrian destruction of 734–​720 bc?181 The hypothesis that Israelite refugees fled to Judah was first presented by biblical scholars who wished to explain how ideological and theological ideas and texts, assumed to have originated in Israel, found their way into the Bible which was eventually composed and redacted in Judah. From an archaeological point of view, the earliest ceramic finds from the western hill in Jerusalem are dated to the Iron Age IIB, a ceramic horizon well known from the destruction of Level III in Lachish and dated to 701 bc.182 Given the absence of earlier material, the Iron Age IIB sherds may give the impression that a rapid expansion took place in the last decades of the eighth century, just before 701 bc. However, ongoing exploration of ceramic development during the Iron Age IIA/​IIB transition (especially in Tel Beth-​Shemesh 3 and Tel Azekah) demonstrates that the Iron Age IIB assemblage developed well before the late eighth century bc. Recent excavations in the City of David demonstrate that settlements expanded to the southern and western slopes of the hill as early as the late ninth century bc, a period to which the earliest fortification in the City of David should also be dated (section 48.4.2). Moreover, as the western hill was only sparsely inhabited,183 the assumption that the city population experienced an unnatural growth (resulting from an influx of refugees) is less convincing. Rather, the evidence suggests that Jerusalem grew gradually through the ninth and eighth centuries bc in tandem with

180. Na’aman 2007b; 2009; 2014b. 181. Finkelstein 2008; 2015b. 182. Geva 2006. 183. Geva 2006, and note that no destruction layer, which could produce an in situ assemblage, is associated with the western hill.

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economic and territorial growth experienced throughout the kingdom of Judah. As for the Israelite refugees, it is doubtful whether the Assyrians would have allowed massive immigration from Israel to Judah,184 especially in light of the Assyrian resettlement program.185 It is therefore almost unrealistic to imagine that this massive wave of immigrants, refugees who left their homes and lands behind, would have been accepted with open arms in Judah and allowed to settle the capital. There are many potentially better ways to explain how Israelite ideology and text found their way to Judah,186 especially considering that Samaria is only 45 km away from Jerusalem, and Bethel, the Israelite royal sanctuary since the reign of Jeroboam II, was even closer,187 not to mention the fact that both kingdoms had maintained close kinship and political ties for at least 250 years. The eighth century bc saw both Israel and Judah achieve their zenith territorially, economically, and politically. The famous biblical phrase delineating the borders of Israel “from Dan to Beersheba,” especially in relation to the reigns of David and Solomon, may only reflect the geopolitical reality of the eighth century bc:188 this was the single period when the Israelite border reached Dan in the north and the Judahite border reached Beersheba in the south. Although the idea of a United Monarchy may have been older and rooted in their common kinship (section 3.5), it seems Judah and Israel had their heydays during the reign of Jeroboam II, and the experience of that period influenced much of the portrayal of the reigns of David and Solomon in the Books of Samuel and Kings.189

184. Na’aman 2007b; 2014b. 185. Radner 2018. 186. E.g., Na’aman 2010. 187. Cf. Knauf 2006. 188. 2 Sam 3:10; 17:11; 24:5, 12; 1 Kgs 5:5. 189. Sergi 2017b.

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48.5.3.  Literacy in Israel and Judah prior to the Assyrian invasion It is almost impossible to assume that the Omrids were able to effectively manage their resources and administer remote communities and territories without the active participation of a scribal community.190 Considering the epigraphic evidence, an ostracon discovered in Megiddo at the very beginning of the late Iron Age IIA (Level Q5, dated ca. 900 bc) may imply that by the very early ninth century bc the alphabet was already in use in Israel, perhaps even in administrative contexts.191 Larger quantities of Iron Age IIA epigraphic finds (consisting of ostraca written with ink and inscriptions incised on ceramic vessels) have, until now, only been found in sites located in the Beth-​Shean valley, specifically at Tel Reḥov. This site yielded an impressive corpus of alphabetic inscriptions dated to various stages of the Iron Age IIA, reflecting the diffusion of different script traditions—​from proto-​Canaanite in the early Iron Age IIA (Stratum VI) to cursive and even Old Hebrew script in the late Iron Age IIA (Strata V–​IV).192 The appearance of cursive writing in this period indicates much more extensive writing with ink on perishable materials (e.g., papyrus), which remains mostly unseen in the epigraphic record.193 In addition, some late Iron Age IIA jars with incised inscriptions were found in Tel Reḥov and its vicinity. These jars were centrally produced at one specific workshop and utilized within an Israelite administrative system for the redistribution of agricultural wealth.194 This means that scribes serving as “state officials” were present at the potter’s workshop. Taken together with the evidence for extensive cursive writing on perishable materials, it may be

190. Sass 2016. 191. Sass and Finkelstein 2016. 192. Finkelstein and Sass 2013; 2016: Table 1; Aḥituv and Mazar 2014; Mazar 2020a. 193. Sass 2016. 194. Kleiman 2017.

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concluded that by the time of Omride rule in Israel (and probably earlier), alphabetic writing was utilized for administrative purposes, even if not yet systematically. This conclusion further indicates that a skilled scribal apparatus had been at the service of the ruling elites in early monarchic Israel from the first half of the ninth century bc. As for Judah, alphabetic knowledge was well known in southwest Canaan since the Late Bronze Age, and its regional distribution only grew throughout the Iron Age I–​IIA.195 Tell es-​Ṣafi (ancient Gath) yielded a fair quantity of alphabetic inscriptions, some of which bear the Old Hebrew script.196 One of these (bearing the name abtm/​abym/​ab᾽am), conclusively dated to the late Iron Age IIA, was inscribed with red ink on a jar that was produced in the region of Jerusalem.197 Accordingly, and since the Iron Age IIA material remains attest to a broad social and economic exchange between Gath and Jerusalem,198 it is no wonder that an enigmatic alphabetic inscription incised on a jar was found in the excavations of the Ophel in Jerusalem.199 It may demonstrate that the knowledge of alphabetic writing was introduced in Jerusalem by this period. Evidence for a more elaborate scribal apparatus appears, however, in the late ninth or early eighth century bc: a hoard of around 170 broken bullae, a significant number of which once sealed papyrus documents, were found in the late Iron Age IIA/​early Iron Age IIB fill in the “rock-​cut pool” in the City of David.200 The bullae (all of which were produced in the region of Jerusalem) attest to the existence of an administrative system that employed the knowledge of writing in the service of Jerusalem’s ruling elite. The appearance of an administrative system in Jerusalem concurrent with the foundation of royal Judahite towns in the

195. Finkelstein and Sass 2013. 196. Maeir et al. 2008; Maeir and Eshel 2014. 197. Maeir 2020: 21−34. 198. Cohen-​Weinberg et al. 2017. 199. Mazar et al. 2013. 200. Reich et al. 2007; De Groot and Fadida 2011.

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lowlands should come as no surprise: the development of a Jerusalemite scribal apparatus went hand in hand with the expansion of Davidic political hegemony. This is also demonstrated by the fact that the earliest stratified Old Hebrew inscription from Judah—​a late Iron Age IIA ink inscription on a pottery sherd—​was found in the remote Judahite desert fortress at Arad.201 All in all, the epigraphic evidence dated to the late Iron Age IIA and the early Iron Age IIB attests to the existence of scribes in the service of both Israelite and Judahite ruling elites.202 One last point to consider is the evidence suggested by the text of the Tel Dan Stele (section 48.4): it places King Ahaziah (and his father, Jehoram), who reigned only one year,203 within the exact same chronological and historical context as portrayed in the Book of Kings: in the battle of Ramoth-​Gilead, where he fought side by side with the last Omride king of Israel, Joram son of Ahab. This cannot be a mere coincidence, and the inevitable conclusion is that the list of Judahite kings from the House of David, as it appears in the Kings, is authentic. Considering this, together with the fact that the authors of Kings were acquainted with events of the late tenth century bc (namely, Sheshonq I’s presence in Canaan), it seems that the establishment of a royal chancellery, where scribes documented the order and reign of Davidic kings, cannot be dated much later than the mid-​ninth century bc. This, of course, does not necessarily mean that these scribes were capable of producing high-​level literary texts. However, the fact that inscriptions with very accomplished literary texts dated to the late ninth/​early eighth century bc have been found throughout the southern Levant may suggest otherwise. For instance, the plaster inscription from Tell Deir ῾Alla (ca. 800 bc) and the contemporaneous Kuntillet ‘Ajrud Inscriptions present fine examples of elegant literary writing and scribal handicraft, and they both provide direct evidence for a specialized scribal education.204

201. Finkelstein and Sass 2013: 169. 202. Rollston 2010. 203. 2 Kgs 8:28–​29. 204. Blum 2016; 2019.

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That means that no later than the late ninth century bc, well-​trained and educated scribes, capable of producing first-​rate literary texts, were employed in the service of the southern Levantine states (but not exclusively). Even when the epigraphic evidence itself does not stem directly from the courts of Jerusalem or Samaria (but see Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, which is commonly related to the court of Samaria under the reign of Jeroboam II), it still demonstrates that, by the late Iron Age IIA, the knowledge of composing, redacting, and probably also collecting literary texts was common in the southern Levant, even in remote desert polities like Moab. In this context, the inscription on the Mesha Stele is noteworthy: it provides the most direct evidence for historiographic literature stemming from the process of state formation, and was the outcome of the consolidation of political power (in this case, the power of Mesha the Dibonite) over the fragmented society of the late Iron Age IIA central Transjordanian Plateau.205 The inscription on the Mesha Stele proves that regardless of the amount of wealth accumulated by a particular society and regardless of how fully sedentarized it was or not, political consolidation in the Iron Age Levant, even in its most arid zones, was accompanied by extensive literary production. There is no reason to think that late Iron Age IIA Judah and Israel were different from their Moabite neighbors. In fact, more than any other text, the Mesha Inscription has been subjected to analogies with biblical historiography. Scholars have noted that it shares royal ideology, theological concepts, and even similar phrasing with many different historiographical texts in the Bible, especially in the Books of Joshua and Samuel. Considering this, and the fact that it was written in the Old Hebrew script (the same script used in Israel and Judah from the late Iron Age IIA), the Mesha Inscription may even attest that the royal scribes in the southern Levant shared scribal knowledge, practices, and education. It is reasonable to credit the Omride hegemony over both Judah and Moab in the first half of the ninth century bc as the historical context for the development of

205. Knauf 1992; Routledge 2004: 133–​153.

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such a southern Levantine scribal tradition. Be that as it may, there can be little doubt that scribal communities, engaged in composing and collecting literary texts, were at the service of Israel (the Omrids) no later than the first half of the ninth century bc and at the service of Judah (the House of David) no later than the second half of the ninth century bc. This, in turn, may provide further support for the assertion that highly accomplished literary works could have been composed in Israel (e.g., the pre-​priestly Jacob cycle) and in Judah (e. g., the stories of David’s rise) by the early eighth century bc.

48.6.  The beginning of a new imperial age: the fate of Israel and Judah under Assyrian and Babylonian rule: 734–​586 bc 48.6.1.  The destruction of Israel: 734–​720 bc

The reign of Tiglath-​pileser III of Assyria (744–​727 bc) heralded a new imperial age in the history of the Levant. In the course of less than twenty years, he conquered almost the entire Levant, and unlike his predecessors, who subjugated local rulers, Tiglath-​pileser III destroyed the Levantine territorial kingdoms, deported their elites, and reorganized them as provinces ruled directly by Assyria, thus changing forever the Levant’s social and political composition.206 In Israel, Menahem son of Gedi (ca. 745–​738 bc) usurped the throne of Shallum, who reigned only one month after usurping the last Nimshid king, Zechariah, son of Jeroboam II.207 Menahem submitted to Tiglath-​pileser III during his campaign against Hamath (738 bc). His son Pekahiah (738–​737 bc) was soon killed by another usurper, Pekah, son of Remaliah (737–​732 bc),

206. For Assyrian expansion during the reign of Tiglath-​pileser III and its aftermath, see, e.g., Frahm 2017: 176–​183. For the reorganization of the Levant under Tiglath-​pileser III, see, e.g., Lipschits 2005: 1–​15 and cf. c­ hapter 38 in this volume. For an edition of Tiglath-​pileser III’s royal inscriptions, see Tadmor and Yamada 2011. 207. 2 Kgs 15:8–​17.

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who allied with Rezin, the last king of Damascus, against Tiglath-​pileser III. Pekah and Rezin besieged Jerusalem, in what is known as the “Syro-​ Ephraimite War,” in an attempt to force Judah to join their anti-​Assyrian coalition.208 The Judahite king Ahaz, son of Jotham, preferred to submit to Tiglath-​pileser III, and by doing so, he probably spared his kingdom from the fate of Israel and Aram-​Damascus: during the years 734–​732 bc, Tiglath-​pileser III campaigned in the southern Levant and conquered the kingdom of Damascus, deporting parts of its population to regions within the Assyrian Empire and dividing its territory into four newly established Assyrian provinces (­chapter 38 in this volume).209 During his campaign to Israel, Tiglath-​pileser III destroyed all the urban and royal centers in the northern valleys (Tel Hazor V, Tel Reḥov III, Tel Megiddo IV, Tel Dan III, Tel Yoqne’am XII, et-​Tell V, Tel Gezer VI).210 Only Samaria was spared, and the new king, Hoshea, son of Elah,211 probably usurped the throne of Pekah with Assyrian consent. Under Hoshea’s rule, the territory of Israel was dramatically decreased to encompass only the Samarian Hills, while the remaining former Israelite territory was ruled directly by Assyria from Megiddo (Level III).212 Hoshea reigned for a few years before he suspended his tribute to Assyria, an action which led to the final conquest of Samaria and the deportation of the Israelite elite to Assyria.213 While the Book of Kings attributes the conquest of Samaria only to Shalmaneser V of Assyria

208. 2 Kgs 16:5–​9; Isa 6–​8; see Na’aman 1991a. 209. Gilead, Hauran, Damascus, and Zobah: Younger 2016: 642–​652; Dimašqa/​ Damascus, Haurina/​Hauran, Qarnina/​Gilead, Ṣubutu/​Zobah: Radner 2008: 57–​63 (on the basis of the Assyrian evidence). 210. For Tiglath-​pileser III’s campaign to Israel, see,, e.g. Na’aman 1995a. 211. 2 Kgs 17:1. 212. For a discussion of the Assyrian provincial system in the southern Levant based primarily on biblical evidence, see Na’aman 1995b. The existence of a province centered on Dor is not accepted by Radner 2008: 66, no. 81, who works on the basis of the Assyrian evidence. 213. 2 Kgs 17:3–​6.

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(726–​722 bc),214 his brother and successor Sargon II (721–​705 bc) took the credit for this success in his inscriptions. There are many possible ways to overcome this alleged problem by dividing the necessary actions (siege, conquest, deportations) between each of the Assyrian kings.215 Nevertheless, the final result remains: the reduced and weakened Israel, centered on the capital Samaria, disappeared forever from the geopolitical map of the ancient Near East. Samaria, the capital, was not destroyed and probably served as the administrative center of the newly established Assyrian province that bore the same name.216 The final conquest of Samaria (722/​720 bc) was followed by deportations from/​to Israel, which should be seen within the wider context of the Assyrian resettlement program. The Israelite elite—​among them highly trained military personnel and charioteers, artisans, and scribes—​were deported either to the Assyrian heartland or the Assyrian province of Guzana (biblical Gozan; modern Tell Halaf ) on the Khabur River, and probably also to the Assyrian provinces in the Median territories.217 Assyrian sources attest to the relative assimilation of the former Israelite elite within Assyrian administrative, economic, and social life. Meanwhile, deportees from northern Babylonia, Hamath, and the northern part of the Arabian Peninsula were in turn settled in the region of Samaria.218

48.6.2.  Sennacherib’s campaign to Judah in 701 bc Only Judah, the three Transjordanian kingdoms of Ammon, Moab, and Edom, and some coastal polities survived the Assyrian expansion of 745–​720 bc, but their rulers were subjugated to Assyria and were

214. 2 Kgs 17:3. 215. For some of the classic reconstructions, see Tadmor 1958; Na’aman 1990; Becking 1992. See also the comprehensive treatment in the contributions to Hasegawa et al. (eds.) 2018. 216. Tappy 2001; Niemann 2007. 217. 2 Kgs 17:6. 218. Radner 2018.

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required to pay annual tribute. In Judah, the economic growth experienced through the eighth century bc, together with its integration into the Assyrian imperial order, resulted in the emergence of a more centralized administrative-​economic system. It employed standardized jars, the handles of which were stamped with official royal seals, to better control and exploit agricultural products from royal estates. At first, the handles of royal Judahite jars were stamped with the well-​known lmlk (“belonging to the king”) impressions, which bore a royal emblem and a place name, the latter probably referring to one of four royal estates (figure 48.9). The lmlk-​stamped jar handles were in use, in changing forms and iconography, for almost a century before they were initially replaced with concentric incisions and later, in the late seventh century bc, with rosette stamp impressions.219 The administrative-​economic system using stamped jar handles persisted even after the fall of the House of David, operating eventually for almost 600 years, throughout the period when Judah was ruled by the empires (first as “vassal” kingdom of Assyria and Babylonia and later as a province within the Babylonian and Persian empires). This fact further supports the association of the administrative system utilizing stamped jar handles with the imperial rule in Judah.220 Sargon II continued the expansionist policy of his father Tiglath-​ pileser III to reinforce the Assyrian hold over the southern Levant. His sudden death in battle in 705 bc resulted in rebellions within the regions of the Assyrian Empire, with which Sargon’s son, crown prince, and successor Sennacherib (704–​681 bc) had to deal in the first years following his accession to his father’s throne.221 During this troubling period, Hezekiah son of Ahaz (ca. 727–​698 bc), king of Judah, together with other south Levantine rulers in Phoenicia, Philistia, and Transjordan, suspended their annual tribute to Assyria. It seems that Hezekiah even formed an anti-​Assyrian alliance with the rulers

219. Lipschits et al. 2011. 220. For a recent and comprehensive discussion of Judah under Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian rule in light of the stamped jar handles, see Lipschits 2021. 221. For the death of Sargon II and the historical background for Sennacherib’s reign, see Frahm 2017: 183–​186. For Sennacherib’s life and reign, see Frahm 2014.

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Figure 48.9.  An impression of a lmlk (“belonging to the king”) stamp seal, representing the royal Judahite administration in the eighth to seventh centuries bc. The example depicted here was found in Ramat Raḥel and its inscription reads lmlk ḥbrn, probably relating to a royal estate in Hebron. Courtesy of Oded Lipschits and the Tel Aviv–​Heidelberg Ramat Raḥel Expedition.

of Ashkelon and Ekron and the support of the Twenty-​fifth Dynasty in Egypt.222 During his third campaign, and after his rule over Assyria and Babylonia was secured, Sennacherib set off to the Levant (in 701 bc) to restore Assyrian hegemony and renew the payment of annual tributes.223 Most of the Levantine rulers submitted to Sennacherib and renewed their tribute payments upon his arrival in the region at the head of a large and well-​equipped army. Supported by the Twenty-​ fifth Dynasty of Egypt, Hezekiah, the king of Judah, and Sidakah, the king of Ashkelon, maintained their resistance, and were consequently

222. Cf. 2 Kgs 18, Isa 30:1–​7; 31; see Na’aman 1991a. 223. For the overall political and military context of Sennacherib’s Levantine campaign in 701 bc, see Fales 2014.

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the target of Sennacherib’s punitive actions (­chapters 38 and 39 in this volume).224 Sennacherib attacked some of the urban centers ruled by Ashkelon along the southern Canaanite littoral, but following the surrender of Ashkelon, he spared the city and left it its nominal independence, although a heavy tribute was imparted on its rulers. He followed a similar policy with Hezekiah and Judah, with one important difference: the assault on Judah was of special significance for Sennacherib, as is clear from textual and pictorial depictions of his Levantine campaign. It was probably the leading role taken by Hezekiah in the formation of the anti-​Assyrian alliance, together with his close connections to Egypt, that focused Sennacherib’s fury on Judah. Whatever the reason behind it, Sennacherib inflicted a devastating destruction on Judah, which is documented in the Bible,225 in Assyrian textual and pictorial sources, and in the material remains of various local sites. Both the short, factual, chronistic account in the Book of Kings and Sennacherib’s royal inscriptions refer to the ultimate destruction of every Judahite urban, royal, and military center. This destruction characterizes almost all the excavated sites in the Judean Lowlands and in the Beersheba and Arad valleys, and it is conclusively identified thanks to the rich assemblage found in the destruction of Level III in Tel Lachish, which has long been associated with Sennacherib’s 701 bc campaign.226 Indeed, at least according to the reliefs adorning Sennacherib’s throne room in his palace at Nineveh,227 Lachish was the main target of his assault on Judah. Heavily fortified, with a palace-​fort on its summit, Tel Lachish Level III—​as is well demonstrated by the hundreds of stamped jars handles found in its destruction layer—​was the most prominent royal Judahite administrative center outside of Jerusalem.228 Its complete destruction marked the end of about 224. For discussion of many aspects of Sennacherib campaign and its aftermath, see the contributions to Grabbe (ed.) 2003a and Kalimi and Richardson (eds.) 2014. 225. 2 Kgs 18:13–​16. 226. For the archaeological aspect, see Ussishkin 2014. 227. Ussishkin 1982. 228. For Lachish Level III, see Ussishkin 2004. For its prominent role in the Judahite royal administration, see Lipschits et al. 2011.

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150 years of Davidic rule in the Judean Lowlands, which in the aftermath of Sennacherib’s campaign were torn from Judah and handed to the ruler of Ekron as a prize for his loyalty. As they did at Ashkelon, the Assyrians spared the capital, Jerusalem. From the Assyrian point of view, there was nothing to gain from a long siege of a well-​fortified hill country town like Jerusalem, and Sennacherib (like Tiglath-​pileser III in Israel beforehand) was content with its king Hezekiah’s resubmission, and in return allowed him (and his heirs) to maintain their rule over a reduced and restricted territory in the highlands.229 The heavy tribute that Sennacherib imparted on Hezekiah was not only intended as a resumption of regular annual payments, but also functioned as a punitive act which reduced the power and wealth of the House of David. Even the short chronistic account in 2 Kings 18:13–​16 recalls the economic crisis caused to the royal economy by this heavy payment. Ultimately, Sennacherib’s campaign of 701 bc had a devastating effect on Judah. It was the first time that Judah experienced such large-​scale destruction. Moreover, one cannot overestimate the significance of the loss of the Judean Lowlands for Judah’s royal economy, as is well demonstrated by the large number of eighth-​century, stamped jar handles found in the Shephelah prior to Sennacherib’s campaign. As surveys and excavations reveal, the region experienced drastic demographic decline after the Assyrian campaign of 701 bc.230 The loss of the lowlands is reflected likewise, by the fact that Judahite stamped jar handles dated to the first half of the seventh century bc are found only in Jerusalem and its surroundings, demonstrating the diminution of the Judahite administrative system after Sennacherib’s campaign. It was not until the final third of the seventh century bc, after the Assyrian Empire had retreated from the Levant, that Judah was able to re-​establish its rule over the lowlands, and that the Judahite administrative system, represented archaeologically by stamped jar handles, is again in evidence in these regions.231 Even then, 229. Frahm 2014: 206–​208. 230. Dagan 2004. 231. Lipschits et al. 2011; Lipschits 2021.

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and until the destruction of the kingdom in 586 bc, the system of the stamped jar handles continued to function to a modest extent, although it never regained its initial scale or strength. Far beyond the immediate devastation it wrought on Judah, Sennacherib’s campaign had a long-​lasting effect on the history and memory of the Levant, as the history of its reception in Hebrew, Aramaic, and even Greek literature reveals.232 More than anything else, the fact that Jerusalem eventually survived the Assyrian invasion gave rise to legendary stories about its miraculous delivery,233 and promoted a Jerusalem-​ centered theology and royal ideology. This is clear primarily from the prophetic stories attached to the chronistic account of Sennacherib’s campaign.234 While the first story presents Yahweh as the “god of history” who had the power to bring Sennacherib to Jerusalem and also send him back to his homeland,235 the second prophetic story adopted a slightly different theological explanation, arguing that Yahweh defended Jerusalem and saved it for his own sake and for the sake of David.236 In other words, by the time that the second prophetic story was composed, Jerusalem had already been identified as the city chosen by Yahweh,237 and the House of David had been declared the only rightful and eternal ruler of Jerusalem.238 This Jerusalem-​centered theology became essential to theological thought in late monarchic Judah, and it is identified with the Judahite scribal school that was responsible for the composition and redaction of core-​Deuteronomy239 and the monarchic history in the Books of Samuel 232. See the contributions to Grabbe 2003a; Kalimi and Richardson 2014. 233. 2 Kgs 19:35. 234. First story in 2 Kgs 18:17–​19:9a, 36–​37, and second story in 2 Kgs 19:9a–​35; for the different sources in 2 Kgs 18–​19, see Grabbe 2003b. 235. 2 Kgs 19:7. 236. 2 Kgs 19:34. 237. Cf. 1 Kgs 14:21; Deut 12:13–​18. 238. Cf. 2 Sam 7:1–​17; 1 Kgs 11:36; 15:4; 2 Kgs 8:19; cf. Sergi 2010. 239. Deut 12–​26.

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and Kings (section 48.6.4). Both share the principal theological theme of cult centralization and the election of the House of David.240 This school had an enormous influence on the history of Judah in the late monarchic period until its final destruction, but even more, it continued to exert an influence on the formation of the Bible well after the House of David and the kingdom of Judah had ceased to exist. In this respect, Sennacherib’s campaign to Judah had far-​reaching consequences that endured long past the Iron Age Levant and even beyond the historical scope of the ancient Near East.

48.6.3.  Judah in the seventh century bc: the reign of Manasseh The first half of the seventh century bc was characterized by the long reign of Manasseh, son of Hezekiah (ca. 698–​644 bc), who probably assumed his father’s throne not long after Sennacherib’s campaign. Oddly, despite Manasseh’s longevity on the throne, the Book of Kings depicts him only as an unmitigated sinner, who abused the royal Yahwistic cult in Jerusalem so thoroughly that he was blamed for the eventual destruction of Judah.241 This of course, was a theological afterthought, and most scholars see it as evidence for the long process of redaction undergone by Kings, and not to any of Manasseh’s actual policies.242 The historical context for Manasseh’s reign was what is sometimes called the Pax Assyriaca of the seventh century bc. Sennacherib’s successors Esarhaddon (680–​669 bc) and Ashurbanipal (668–​631 bc) conquered Egypt and replaced the Kushite Twenty-​fifth Dynasty with the more easily controllable Twenty-​sixth Dynasty based in Sais (­chapter 38 in this volume and ­chapter 49 in volume 5), thus bringing the Assyrian Empire to its pinnacle. Encouraged by its Assyrian rulers, in the seventh century bc the Levant experienced substantial economic growth fueled

240. Römer 2005. 241. 2 Kgs 21:1–​18. 242. Halpern 1998.

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by long-​distance trade.243 Manasseh is referred to in two of Esarhaddon’s royal inscriptions as a loyal, tribute-​paying ruler,244 which means that, in contrast to the turbulent reign of his father, Judah enjoyed under Manasseh peaceful years as a client kingdom of the Assyrian Empire. Manasseh’s rule was nonetheless restricted to the core Judahite territory between Benjamin, Jerusalem, and the Judean Hills, as is well demonstrated by the distribution of contemporary stamped jar handles.245 Royal Judahite activities are accordingly detected mainly in the region of Jerusalem: during Manasseh’s reign, a series of royal estates and administrative centers were established over the hills overlooking Jerusalem from the south, the most prominent of which was built in Ramat Raḥel.246 These estates were probably meant to intensify the production and the exploitation of agricultural products, especially in the Rephaim valley south of Jerusalem.247 They attest to the reorganization of the royal economy as a result of the loss of the lowlands in the aftermath of Sennacherib’s campaign. Eventually, such measures stimulated the gradual economic growth which fueled Judah’s revival in the second half of the century.

48.6.4.  Judah in the seventh century bc: the reign of Josiah It was the retreat of Assyria from the Levant by the final third of the seventh century bc,248 which enabled, under the reign of Josiah (ca. 640–​ 609 bc), the re-​establishment of Davidic rule in the Judean Lowlands and in the Beersheba and Arad valleys. Moreover, Josiah expanded the

243. Frahm 2017: 183–​190. 244. Leichty 2011: 23 (no. 1: v 55), 46 (no. 5: vi 7). 245. Lipschits et al. 2011: 15–​19, 23–​26. 246. Lipschits et al. 2017. 247. Gadot 2015; Finkelstein and Gadot 2016; Lipschits 2019. 248. For the end of the Assyrian Empire, see Frahm 2017: 191–​196; and c­ hapter 39 in this volume.

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Judahite territory more than ever before, taking over the region of Bethel to the north and establishing his rule, for the first time in Judahite history, over the northern and western parts of the Dead Sea, between Jericho and En-​Gedi.249 The expansion of Judah in the days of Josiah is further demonstrated by the wide distribution of Judahite stamped jar handles, found now not only in the lowlands west and south of Judah, but also to the east and to the north of it.250 The account in the Book of Kings attributes to Josiah cultic reforms that were meant to centralize the royal Yahwistic cult in the Jerusalem temple.251 The history of the Middle East in the second and first millennia bc provides numerous examples of kings who instituted cultic reforms aimed at the elevation of a specific deity (usually the ruler’s patron deity) to the head of the state pantheon and at the centralization of the royal cult. These reforms were typically enacted by formidable rulers who had triumphed politically and militarily and thus can be seen as a reflection of royal power.252 Josiah’s reign saw the retreat of the Assyrians who had destroyed Israel and oppressed Judah for almost a hundred years. Consequently, Josiah extended his rule in all directions, making the House of David, with its capital Jerusalem, one of the leading forces in the southern Levant. Under these circumstances, it is certainly reasonable that the consolidation of Josiah’s kingship was accompanied by cult reforms aimed at the elevation of his patron deity, Yahweh, and the centralization of his cult. In spite of some recent doubts,253 there are enough epigraphical and other archaeological finds to support this conclusion.254 It seems, however, that despite the description in the

249. For a comprehensive study of Josiah’s reign over Judah, see Na’aman 1991b and cf. Lipschits 2019. 250. Lipschits et al. 2011: 20–​23, 26–​28. 251. 2 Kgs 22–​23. 252. Na’aman 2006b. 253. E.g., Pakkala 2010. 254. Uehlinger 2007.

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Book of Kings,255 Josiah’s reforms were restricted mainly to the region of Jerusalem, probably reflecting a longer and more complicated process that began already with Sennacherib’s campaign to Judah.256 In other regions of the ancient Near East at that time, cult reforms and the consolidation of monarchic power were often accompanied by the extensive production of literary texts. In light of the fact that cult centralization is the key theme in what is often conceived as the earliest version of the book of Deuteronomy, the composition of core-​ Deuteronomy (German “Ur-​Deuteronomium”)257 is often dated to the reign of Josiah in the late seventh century bc.258 Indeed, the covenant theology of core-​Deuteronomy (especially in Deuteronomy 13 and 28) resembles in its theological and ideological concepts, and in style and phrasing, the Succession Treaties of Esarhaddon (see ­chapters 38 and 39 in this volume, with ­figure 38.5 and ­figure 39.6), which suggests that the authors of the core-​Deuteronomy knew this text.259 A copy of this treaty in the shape of a large, sealed clay tablet was found on the floor of a sanctuary in Tell Tayinat (ancient Kullania, an Assyrian provincial center and previously the capital of the former northern Levantine kingdom of Patin/​Unqu, centered on the Orontes estuary and the Amuq Plain), where it was probably displayed on the nearby pedestal. The discovery of a copy of Esarhaddon’s succession treaty at Tell Tayinat confirms that the Assyrian authorities sent exemplars of the treaty to the western regions of the empire, and it is therefore plausible that a copy of this treaty was presented in the temple of Jerusalem, where Judahite scribal elite would have become familiar with it.260 Esarhaddon’s succession treaty and the continual interactions between Assyria and Judah throughout the late eighth–​seventh centuries bc clarify the ideological and historical 255. 2 Kgs 22–​23. 256. Na’aman 2002b. 257. Deut 12–​26. 258. Römer 2005; 2018. 259. Steymans 1995; Levinson and Stackert 2012. 260. Steymans 2013; 2019; Levinson and Stackert 2012; Römer 2018.

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context for the composition of Deuteronomy, and further support the dating of its early version to late monarchic Judah, more specifically to the reign of Josiah. In light of the strong Deuteronomistic theology and style characterizing the “historiographical” books in the Bible—​Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings—​it was assumed that an early version of the history of ancient Israel from the conquest of Canaan to the reign of Josiah was written in conjunction with the composition of Deuteronomy.261 However, scholars agree today that the composition and redaction of the historical narrative in Joshua–​2 Kings reflect a much longer process, which may have begun with Josiah but ended no earlier than the Persian Period. Hence, it is mostly the monarchic history in Samuel and Kings, sometimes with the core narrative of Joshua,262 that is dated to late monarchic Judah.263 The Jerusalem-​centered theology as a central theme in both Samuel and Kings, combined with its strongly pro-​Davidic and pro-​monarchic tone,264 should be seen in the context of late monarchic Judah. Moreover, only a dating to late monarchic Judah coheres with the fact that much of the material compiled in these books is well acquainted with the social and political realia of the Iron Age, and even the early Iron Age, as has been demonstrated throughout this chapter. It is noteworthy that there are no parallels to the extent and quantity of epigraphic finds from Iron Age IIB–​C Judah from any time before the second century bc. The ever-​growing number of administrative and economic inscriptions, as well as inscribed bullae, seals, weights, and stamp impressions found all over Judah—​in the main urban centers (e. g., Lachish, Jerusalem) and in remote desert fortresses (e.g., Arad, Ḥorvat ῾Uza)—​attest not only to the increasing exploitation of writing by the state agents, but also to the practice of keeping archives.265 Additionally,

261. Noth 1943; Cross 1973. 262. Josh 1–​12. 263. E.g., Kratz 2005; Römer 2005. 264. Especially 2 Sam 7:1–​17, and cf. 1 Kgs 11:36; 15:4; 2 Kgs 8:19. 265. Rollston 2010: 91–​113.

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the accumulation of epigraphic finds is not restricted to administrative and economic texts, as evidence also exists for the employment of literary texts in the education of scribes, even in a remote desert fortress like Ḥorvat ῾Uza.266 Recently, sixteen ink inscriptions, found in the desert fortress of Arad (from an archive of more than a hundred inscriptions) and dated to around 600 bc, were examined with the aid of novel image-​ processing and machine-​learning algorithms. This examination revealed that the texts had been produced by a minimum of six authors, indicating that at this remote fort, literacy had been transmitted through the military hierarchy down to the quartermaster, and probably even extended below that rank.267 Such a culture of widespread literacy offers a more convincing background for the composition of ambitious works such as the Book of Deuteronomy and the monarchic history in the Books of Samuel and Kings. In sum, Josiah’s reign marks a period of political, territorial, economic, and cultural triumph for Judah. Taking advantage of the Assyrian retreat, Josiah reasserted Judah’s dominant status in the southern Levant, expanded his territorial rule, and exploited new and lucrative economic resources. Like Jeroboam II’s Israel, political triumph encouraged cult reforms and literary compositions; and like Israel, the temporary prosperity under formidable rulers also became the swan song for their kingdoms. Josiah himself was probably executed in Megiddo by the Egyptian king Nekau II (610–​595 bc), who asserted Egyptian hegemony in the Levant following the retreat of Assyria from that region.268 Josiah’s territorial and political ambitions were seen as a threat to Egyptian interests in the southern Levant, especially in light of the rising Babylonian empire to the north. The death of Josiah, which was followed by the final demise of the Assyrian Empire at the Battle of Harran in 609 bc, marked the beginning of a long conflict between Egypt and Babylonia over the Assyrian inheritance in the Levant.269 Like Josiah, his successors in Judah 266. Na’aman 2013. 267. Faigenbaum-​Golovin et al. 2016. 268. 2 Kgs 23:29–​30. 269. Lipschits 2005: 1–​35.

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also would be caught up in the power struggle between the imperial forces of Babylonia and Egypt, which ultimately caused the final demise of the House of David.

48.6.5.  The destruction of Judah: 609–​586 bc Following Josiah’s execution in Megiddo, his son Jehoahaz was crowned in Jerusalem, although he was probably not the first in line to the throne. He reigned only three months before Nekau II deported him to Egypt upon his return from the Battle of Harran. The Egyptian king then crowned Jehoahaz’s elder brother, Jehoiakim (ca. 609–​597 bc) in his stead.270 Four years later, and following the Egyptian defeat in the battle of Carchemish in 605 bc, the victorious Nebuchadnezzar II, king of Babylon (605–​562 bc; ­chapter 50 in volume 5), asserted his rule over the entire Levant. In 604 bc, Nebuchadnezzar II led a devastating campaign to Ashkelon, whose rulers were closely allied with Egypt. The complete destruction of the city sent a clear message to all the rulers in the region, Jehoiakim among them.271 In these circumstances, and despite the fact that he owed his crown to the Egyptian king, Jehoiakim submitted to Nebuchadnezzar II.272 However, three years later, after the failed Babylonian attempt to invade Egypt in 601 bc, Jehoiakim suspended his tribute payments and shifted his loyalty back to Egypt. Nebuchadnezzar II campaigned to Jerusalem in 597 bc and besieged it, but Jehoiakim himself died during the siege. His son, Jehoiachin, surrendered to Nebuchadnezzar II after a short reign of only three months. He was exiled to Babylonia, along with his entire royal entourage and other members of the kingdom’s elite.273

270. 2 Kgs 23:31–​37. 271. Cf. Jer 36. 272. Lipschits 2005: 42–​49. 273. 2 Kgs 24:8–​16; see Lipschits 2005: 49–​62.

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Nebuchadnezzar II crowned Zedekiah, Jehoiakim’s brother and the last (known) son of Josiah, as the new king of Judah.274 Zedekiah reigned for nine years. Initially he maintained his loyalty to Babylonia, but eventually he revolted. The immediate political reasons behind his revolt are not completely clear, but they seem to have been related to a renewed Egyptian intervention in the Levant and to an overall change in Nebuchadnezzar II’s Levantine policy. There should be little doubt, however, that Zedekiah’s revolt against Babylonia was fueled by the Jerusalem-​centered theology that promoted a strong belief in the endurance of the House of David within Yahweh’s chosen city, Jerusalem.275 Perhaps not surprisingly, these convictions were soon shattered in the face of a cruel reality: Jerusalem was destroyed and the House of David met its final end. According to the account in the Book of Kings,276 Jerusalem withstood a Babylonian siege for almost two years, before it finally surrendered to hunger. The king tried to flee the falling city, but he was caught during his escape. He was tried for treason and a harsh punishment was meted out: his sons were slaughtered before him and immediately afterwards he was blinded. The last thing Zedekiah saw was the physical extinction of his lineage, the House of David, which had ruled Judah from Jerusalem for about 400 years. The royal house and the temple in Jerusalem were sacked by the Babylonians, who subsequently smashed the city’s fortifying walls and set the palace and the temple on fire. The kingdom’s elite was deported to Babylon, and Jerusalem remained abandoned for at least half a century.277 From an archaeological point of view, the destruction of Judah is well demonstrated by the early sixth-​century destruction by fire of all royal and urban centers in the Judean Lowlands and in the Beersheba and Arad valleys, most notably Tel Lachish Level II. In Jerusalem itself, the early

274. 2 Kgs 24: 17. 275. Cf. Jer 7; 26–​28; see Lipschits 2005: 62–​72. 276. 2 Kgs 25. 277. Lipschits 2005: 72–​84 (with further literature).

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sixth-​century destruction is clearly identified around the fortification of the western hill, in the Ophel (just to the south of the Temple Mount), and in the northern parts of the city of David. Interestingly, it seems that other, more residential, sections of the city were not destroyed, further reflecting Babylonian policy of focusing their assault on symbolic structures and on the city’s ruling elite. The Bible portrays Judah as if it was completely destroyed and its entire population exiled to Babylon;278 however, it seems that life in Judah continued under Babylonian rule. The short account about Gedaliah, son of Ahikam, a member of the former Judahite elite, who ruled Judah as a Babylonian governor before he was murdered by supporters of the House of David, is well known.279 Yet, archaeological excavations and surveys demonstrate that regions to the north (Benjamin) and south (Rephaim valley and Ramat Raḥel) of Jerusalem continued to flourish well into the late Persian Period (fifth and fourth centuries bc). Throughout this long period, the administrative system utilizing stamped jar handles—​which had been introduced during the time of the kingdom of Judah—​continued to be used. It therefore seems that, following the deportation of much of the former Judahite elite to Babylon, the region was reorganized as a province ruled from Mizpah and later from Ramat-​Raḥel. It was not before the late sixth century bc that the city of David was resettled, probably conjointly with the renewal of cult activities on the Temple Mount. Even then, Jerusalem remained a small town, centered on its temple, while the palatial edifice and administrative center were located in the nearby Ramat-​Raḥel.280 It was only in the second century bc that Jerusalem again reached the size of the earlier, late seventh-​century bc settlement and was once again surrounded by massive fortifications.

278. 2 Kgs 25: 1–​12. 279. 2 Kgs 25: 20–​25; Jer 40–​42; for a historical reconstruction, see Lipschits 2005: 97–​133. 280. For Judah and Jerusalem in the sixth and fifth century bc, see Lipschits 2011a; 2011b; 2021.

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van der Steen, E.J. 2004. Tribes and territories in transition: the central east Jordan valley in the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Ages, a study of the sources. Leuven: Peeters. van der Steen, E.J., and Smelik, K.A.D. 2007. King Mesha and the tribe of Dibon. Journal of the Study of the Old Testament 32: 139–​162. Van Seters, J. 1983. In search of history: historiography in the ancient world and the origins of biblical history. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Weippert, M. 2010. Historisches Textbuch zum Alten Testament. Fribourg: Academic Press /​Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Weingart, K. 2014. Stämmevolk—​Staatvolk—​Gottesvolk? Studien zur Verwendung des Israels-​Namens im Alten Testament. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Willi-​ Plein, I. 2004. I Sam. 18–​ 19 und die Davidshausgeschichte. In Dietrich, W. (ed.), David und Saul im Widerstreit—​Diachronie und Synchronie im Wettstreit: Beiträge zur Auslegung des ersten Samuelbuches. Fribourg: Academic Press /​Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 138–​171. Yamada, S. 2000. The construction of the Assyrian Empire: a historical study of the inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (859–​824 BC) relating to his campaigns to the West. Leiden: Brill. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2007. Neo-​ Assyrian and Israelite history in the 9th century: the role of Shalmaneser III. In Williamson, H.G.M. (ed.), Understanding the history of ancient Israel. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 243–​277. Younger, K.L., Jr. 2016. A political history of the Aramaeans: from their origins to the end of their polities. Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature.

1206

1207

Index

For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–​53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Tables are indicated by t following the page number Abar, 124–26 Abdadanu, 274 Abd-Ba‘al, 1048, 1049 Abdî, 498n.251 Abdi-Li’ti of Arwad, 377–78, 1069–70 Abdi-milkuti of Sidon, 316–17, 1004, 1089–91 Abešlu, 773–74 Abi-Ba‘al of Samsimuruna, 1034–35 Abi-Ba‘al (son of Yeḥi-milk), 1075–78 Abilianiše, 812 Abi-lihia, 496n.243 Abi-milku, 1036–37 Abi-râmu, 495 Abi-salamu, 207–8 Abi-šemu, 1036 Abi-Yate’, 391, 394 Abiyate, 322–23, 324–25 Abra, 688 Absahutti, 691

Absalom, 1147–48 Abu Hamed, 87–88 Abu Kamal, 207–8 Abuni, 789 Abydos, 14, 68–69, 110–11, 115–17, 123–24, 129–30 Acar Dağ, 963–64 Adad (Addu), 168–69, 177–78, 184, 212–13, 264, 265, 361–62, 385, 404, 408–9, 458, 489n.207, 530–31, 712t, 1061–62 Adad-apla-iddina, 167–68, 188–89, 245, 532–36, 537–39, 540–41, 548–49, 570–71, 576–77 Adad-bel, 229n.334 Adad-it’i, 241–42 Adad-nerari I, 162–64 Adad-nerari II, 165–66, 193–97, 200–9, 210–12, 213–16, 217, 222–23, 225–26, 240, 241, 259, 269–70, 354–55, 547–48, 770–72

1208

1208

Index

Adad-nerari III, 227–29, 243, 278–84, 285, 288–89, 290, 291, 292, 363–66, 368, 479, 556–57, 566–67, 681–82, 685t, 735, 791–92, 793–94, 979–81, 982–83, 987–89, 1062, 1068, 1080, 1088, 1095, 1161–62 Adana, 921–22, 936, 955–56, 968–69, 971–72, 986 Adana−Tepebağ, 922–23 Adanu of Yahanu, 359–61 Adda-abi, 497n.248 Adda-atar, 497n.249 Adda-bi’di, 498n.251 Adda-guppi’, 326 Adda-hari, 498nn.251–52 Adda-idri of Damascus, 271–72, 361, 1062. See also Hadad-ezer Adda-pisia, 497n.249 Adda-rapâ, 498n.251 Addaru, 312, 313n.282, 317n.295 Addaten, 639 Adhaim River, 177–78, 198–200, 525–26. See also Radanu Adıyaman, 803 Adoni-Ba‘al (Adunu-Ba‘al) of Siyanu, 361–62, 1064–65 Adonis, 1043, 1044 Adramelos. See Urdu-Mullissu Adrammelech. See Urdu-Mullissu Adramu, 364–65 Adummatu, 310–11 Adunî, 497n.248 Aduni-Ba‘al, 1069–70 Aegean, 14, 757, 878–79, 934–35, 938, 1048

Afghanistan, 705–6 Afqa, 1044 Afrin River, 924–25, 963–64. See also Aprê River Afyonkarahisar, 867 Agamemnon, 879 Agamtanu. See Ecbatana Agazi, 691, 692 Agni, 707–8 Agnuparnu, 707–8 Agusi. See Gusi Ahab, 361–62, 965–66, 1060, 1062, 1085, 1142–43, 1155–56, 1157, 1158–59, 1171 Ahanu, 963–64. See also Yahanu Ahar, 808 Ahat-abiša, 298n.206, 376–77, 998–99, 999n.341 Ahat-abû, 496n.243 Ahaz, 1120, 1173–74, 1176–78 Ahaziah, 1157, 1158–61, 1171 Ahiah, 1139–40 Ahi-Iau, 497n.246 Ahikam, 1189 Ahi-larim, 497n.246 Ahi-Miti, 304–5, 376–77 Ahi-qamu, 498n.251 Ahiqar, 412 Aḥi-rom, 1075–80, 1081 Ahiyaba, 226–27 Ahlamû, 429, 486, 570–71, 936–37. See also Aramean Ahmose I, 43 Ahmose Nefertari, 37–38, 64–65 Ahšeri of Mannea, 321–22, 747–52, 753, 754, 755–56 Ahtâ, 1065–66. See also Al-Mina

1209

Index Ahuni of Bit-Adini, 230, 243–44, 271–72, 359–61, 951, 961n.187, 966–67, 968 Ahuria, 788 Aia-halu, 495 Ain Dara, 924–25 Aithiopia, 89n.14, 139 Akalan, 867–68 Akh-Aritene, 140–41 Akhenaten, 1036–37 Akhetaten, 1036–37, 1066–67. See also Tell el-Amarna Akhmim, 50 Akhziv, 1086, 1096, 1099. See also Akzibu Akitu, 324–25, 546–47, 564, 570–71 Akkad, 178–79, 299, 390, 392, 427, 429–30, 500–1, 534–35, 555–56 Akkar Plain, 1063, 1066, 1068–69, 1072, 1073, 1089 Akko, 1038–39, 1086, 1096–97, 1099 Akkussu, 697t Aksaray, 876–78. See also Šinuhtu Aksha, 106n.91 Aksu valley, 926–27 Akzibu, 1086, 1096, 1099. See also Akhziv Alanya, 993–95 Alara, 28–29, 110, 111, 115–17 Alasia, 934n.89 Alborz Mountains, 674–76 Aleppo, 271–72, 923–25, 940, 941– 42, 943–44, 954, 956, 970–71, 977–78, 983–85, 1006–7, 1034–35, 1047, 1050–51, 1083– 84. See also Halman

1209

Alexander the Great, 139–40, 867– 68, 884, 904–5, 1036, 1084–85, 1093, 1098 Alexandretta, Gulf of, 955–56, 1063–64 Alexandria, 142–43 Algeria, 1033 Alimuš (or Aliṣir), 359–61, 966–67 Alişar Höyük, 921–22 Allabria, 274, 302–3, 374–75, 732– 34, 809 Allumari, 936–37, 945–46 Al-Mina, 1065–66. See also Ahtâ Al-Ruad, 1066. See also Arwad Alqosh, 173 Al-Safirah, 984–85 Altıntepe, 802–3 Alvand Mountains, 683. See also Fortress of the Babylonian Alyattes, 759 Alzi, 173–74, 202–3, 791, 929–30 Amada, 106n.91 Amadanu Mountains, 224–25, 240–41. See also Maden Amadaya, 680. See also Media Amakki, 697t Amaku, 685t Amanislo, 112–13 Amannote-erike, 110, 133, 136–37, 140 Amanus Mountains, 231, 401, 923– 24, 953–54, 964, 993–94, 1007, 1047, 1061–62 Amar-Sin of Ur, 630n.180 Amara West, 103, 106n.91 Amate, 683–84 Amaziah, 1160–61, 1165

120

1210

Index

Ambanda, 691, 692 Ambaris of Tabal, 298, 304–5, 376– 77, 876–78, 879–80, 998–99 Amedi, 224–25, 965–66. See also Diyarbakır Ameka, 225–26 Amel-Marduk of Babylon, 326 Amenemnisu, 9–10, 11–12 Amenemope, 13–14, 15–16, 39, 44–46, 68 Amenhotep I, 36–37 Amenhotep II, 8–9, 47–48 Amenhotep III, 8–9, 112–13 Amenirdis I, 29–31, 65, 66–67, 110–11 Amenirdis II, 65, 70, 128 Ametana, 685t Amil-Adad, 195–96, 207–8 Ammali, 225–26 Ammaten, 639 Amme-Ba’al, 210–11, 213–15, 223–24 Ammini-ili, 498n.252 Ammi-ramu, 497n.249 Ammon, 361–62, 382, 456n.93, 1034–35, 1101–2, 1157–58, 1175–76 Ammu-ladin, 322–23 Amorite, 428n.6 Ampiriš, 646 Amrit, 1049, 1050–51, 1070. See also MRT; Marathos Amun, 1, 4–16, 19, 22, 23–25, 27–32, 36–37, 38, 40–41, 44, 47–49, 50–51, 54–55, 60–61, 62–63, 64–71, 90, 91, 94, 96–98, 104, 106, 107, 110–11, 112–13, 117–18, 122, 126–27, 128, 132, 133–35, 136, 137–38, 140–41, 143, 1074–75

Amun of Napata, 28–29, 126–28, 135 Amun-Ra, 28–29 Amuq Plain, 231, 794, 915n.5, 923– 26, 935, 938, 940–41, 942, 955– 56, 1006–7, 1034–35, 1184–85. See also Falastin; Patin; Unqi Amurru (god), 411 Amurru (kingdom), 324–25, 390, 401, 1061–62, 1071, 1074 Ana (land), 951–52 Ana (wife of Suhi II), 953–54 Ana-Aššur-utir-aṣbat, 440–41 Anat (city), 180, 330–31, 924–25, 951–52n.147, 952, 970–71, 979 Anat (goddess), 1039–41 Andaria, 321–22, 801 Andia, 339, 372–73, 374–75, 734, 735, 736, 738–40, 742–43, 744, 760 Andirpattianu (Andarpatianu), 697t, 715n.85 Anhitti, 273 Aniaštania, 848 Aniba, 100–1. See also Miam Aniqu, 832 Anisu(s), 748n.184 Ankara, 867, 879–80, 886–87, 894, 898, 903–4, 932 Ankawa, 748–49. See also Milqia Ankhefensekhmet B, 27 Ankhefmut, 44–45 Ankhefsekhmet, 11 Anlamani, 133–35, 138 Anni-šilhak, 645–46 Anšan, 592–94, 601, 603–5, 606–7, 613–14, 627–29, 633–34, 646– 47, 660, 662–63, 728–29. See also Tell-e Malyan

12

Index Antakya, 982–83 Anti-Lebanon, 1034–35 Antiochus I, 558–59 Antiochus IV, 1033 Anu, 168–69, 184, 212–13, 404, 556, 1061–62 Anu-Adad, 176–77, 244–45 Anukhet, 461 Anzakne, 688, 697t Anzan. See Anšan Anzaria, 711, 712t. See also Kar-Adad/Kar-Ištar Anzi, 697t Anzu, 183–84 Apa, 210 Apadana, 596n.20 Apedemak, 144 Aphrodite, 1039–41 Apiani, 481 Apis bull, 3–4, 12, 19, 23–24, 27, 39, 71–72 Apku, 185–86, 208–9, 215. See also Tell Abu Maryam Apollo, 865, 897–98 Appalaya, Appalayans, 638, 644–45, 647 Appatar, 257–59 Aprê River, 964. See also Afrin River Aqaba, 390 Aqaba, Gulf of, 1163, 1165–66 Arabah valley, 1145–46, 1153–55, 1157–58 Arabian Desert, 456 Arabian Peninsula, 475–76, 1174–75 Arabs, 309–10, 322–23, 361–62, 456, 475–78, 485–86, 679, 692

1211

Arad, 1145–46, 1153–54, 1160–61, 1166, 1170–71, 1178–79, 1182– 83, 1185–86, 1188–89 Arad-Ea, 573–74 Arados. See Arwad Arad-Sibitti, 543–44, 545–47 Aram, 390, 984–85 Aram-Damascus, 279, 978–79, 984– 85, 1145, 1155–56, 1158, 1173–74 Aramean, 167–68, 172–73, 180, 181–82, 189–90, 194–96, 198–200, 205–8, 211–12, 226, 239–40, 257–59, 260, 267, 269–70, 271–72, 288–89, 294, 354–55, 359–61, 365, 377–78, 429, 447, 479, 482–85, 486, 490–93, 497, 531–32, 534–36, 540–41, 543, 545–47, 554–55, 557, 559–62, 568–69, 570–71, 576–77, 644–45, 773–75, 793, 916, 936–37, 939, 950–51, 952, 967–68, 1034–36, 1047, 1059, 1065, 1072–73, 1083–84, 1126– 27, 1157–58. See also Ahlamû Aramis, Arwas, 493–94 Aramu. See Arramu Aranzešu. See Araziaš Ararat, Mount, 788–89 Ararat valley, 770, 788–89, 812–13, 839 Araštua, 225–26 Aratišta, 688, 701 Araxes River, 770, 789, 815 Araziaš (Arazišu), 680, 681, 682–83, 697t Arbaces, 722–23, 724t Arbaku, 697t, 724t

12

1212

Index

Arbela, 193–94, 200, 225, 238–39, 257–59, 385, 427–28, 468, 475, 485, 498, 526–27, 725, 748–49, 801. See also Erbil Arbu, 823–24 Ardabil, 739–40 Arda-Mullissu. See Urdu-Mullissu Ardumuzan. See Urdu-Mullissu Ardys, 758 Argi Basin, 136–37 Argišti son of Minua, of Urartu, 367, 736, 737, 739–40, 755–56, 782, 783t, 785–86, 788, 789–90, 791–93, 802–3, 804–6, 807, 811–12, 816, 823–24, 837–38, 846, 849–50, 991–92, 995 Argištihinili, 789, 802–3, 812–13, 824, 841. See also Armavir Argištihinili-Artarapšakai, 814 Argišti son of Rusa, of Urartu, 744– 46, 782, 783t, 790, 799, 801–2, 810–12, 813–15, 816, 817–18, 839, 844–45, 875–76, 990–91 Arhi, 828–29 Aria, 679, 692, 697t. See also Haraiva Ariarmi, 683 Aribua, 231, 242–43, 954–55n.160, 964–65. See also Jisr al-Shughur; Tell Qarqur Arin Berd, 841. See also Erebuni Ariyahina, 951–52, 959 Ariye, 797–98 Ariza, 797–98 Arjan, 629–30, 649–51 Arkamani I, 144 Armaet, Armait. See Armetta Armanani, 930–31

Armangu, 697t Armavir, 824, 841. See also Argištihinili Arme, 793, 804, 837–38 Armenia, 770, 780–81, 789–90, 812–13, 815, 821, 839, 852 Armetta, 375, 730–32, 741 Armini. See Armenia Arnasia. See Irnisa Arnuwanti I, 932–33 Arnuwanti II, 933 Arpa, 951 Arpad, 279–80, 281–84, 288–89, 294, 301–2, 359–61, 364–66, 368–70, 372, 496–97, 793–94, 804, 924–26, 963–64, 966–67, 970–71, 974–75, 978–81, 982–85, 988–89, 993, 994–95, 1006–7, 1050–51. See also Bit-Agusi; Hurpata; Tell Rifa’at Arqa, 361–62, 1071, 1073, 1080, 1101–2. See also Tell Arqa Arqania Mountains, 224–25, 240–41, 242–43. See also Ergani Arrakdu, 226 Arramu, 273, 772–74, 775, 776–77, 845 Arraphe, 203–4, 215–16, 288, 308–9, 330–31, 395, 468, 547–48, 725. See also Kirkuk Arṣania River, 804–5. See also Murad Su Arsiyaniš, 752 Arslan Tash, 466, 952, 1053. See also Hadatu Arslantepe, 174–75, 317, 922–23, 927, 933–34, 938, 939, 946–47, 948, 991, 992–93. See also Malatya; Melid Arsuz, 923–24, 955–56

123

Index Artulu, 973. See also Kululu Arty, 124–26 Arusaka, Mount, 688 Arussa, 688 Arwad (Arados), 176–77, 231, 320, 321, 354–55, 361–62, 377–78, 381, 382, 1031–32, 1033–35, 1044, 1046–47, 1061–62, 1063–64, 1066–71, 1072–73, 1075–76, 1087–88, 1091–92, 1098, 1101–2. See also Al-Ruad Ary, 107 Arzašku(n), 772–73 Arzawa, 934n.89 Arzuhina, 177–78, 468. See also Gök Tepe as-Sur, 227. See also Suru Asa, 106 Ašared-apil-Ekur, 186–87 Asasif, 49, 57–58 Asclepius, 1041–42 Ašdiyaš, 752 Ashakhet A, 11–12, 23–24 Ashdod, 122–23, 304–5, 376–77, 379–81, 382, 474, 496–97 Ashkelon, 378–79, 382, 474, 1032– 33, 1176–79, 1187 Ashur, 655 Ashurbanipal, 32–34, 129, 259–60, 261, 266, 312, 313–14, 317, 318–27, 333–34, 335, 376–77, 381, 382, 383–84, 385–86, 387–91, 392–97, 398, 402, 410, 412, 413, 429–30, 431–32, 442–43, 446, 449–50, 452, 453, 456–58, 459–60, 461–62, 470, 473, 477–78, 483–85, 500, 578, 622–25,

1213

634, 641, 652–54, 655–56, 659, 660–61, 696, 718–20, 721, 723, 724–25, 747–50, 752, 753, 754, 755–56, 757–59, 783t, 801–2, 815–17, 992–93, 1004, 1062–63, 1069–70, 1081, 1097, 1181–82 Ashurnasirpal I, 165–66, 186, 190– 92, 197 Ashurnasirpal II, 162–64, 184, 191– 92, 194, 210–11, 215–16, 217–21, 222–37, 238–41, 242–44, 245– 46, 257–59, 260, 269–71, 352, 354–59, 383, 386–87, 400–1, 403–4, 432, 443, 449–50, 454, 472, 539–40, 550–51, 571, 770– 74, 776, 783t, 959, 960–67, 970, 971–72, 985, 1062, 1067–68, 1080, 1087–88, 1094, 1155–56 Aslankaya, 901–2 Aslantaş, 890–91 Ašpabara of Ellipi, 376–77 Ašpabara of Kakkam, 697t Aspelta, 133–34, 135, 136, 137–39 Ašqaya (Ušqaya), 739–40 Ašša, 965–66 Aššaš, 752 Assur (city), 128–29, 161–62, 164– 67, 168–233, 236–37, 238–39, 244–45, 246, 259, 280–81, 288, 292, 297, 298, 306, 319, 329–31, 336, 354, 355–56, 383, 384–86, 387–89, 395–97, 398–401, 403– 4, 407–8, 410, 411–12, 427–28, 429–30, 431, 432–34, 441–42, 466, 468, 471, 481–82, 491–94, 498, 578, 690, 725–26, 772–73, 1001, 1061–62, 1091

124

1214

Index

Ashur (god), 172, 182–83, 189–90, 208–9, 212–13, 231–32, 237, 239, 244–45, 264, 265, 266–67, 268–69, 303–4, 317–18, 336, 356–57, 361–62, 379, 384, 385–86, 387, 390, 398–400, 404, 407–9, 411, 412, 427–28, 437–38, 439–41, 442–43, 450, 459–60, 470–71, 485, 488, 495, 498, 692, 718, 743, 757, 758–59, 786, 798, 801, 823–24, 830–31, 832, 833–34, 840, 846, 848, 851–52, 1091 Aššur-bel-kala, 169–71, 187–90, 245, 532–34, 536 Aššur-da’’in-aplu, 270–71, 275–77, 553–54 Aššur-dan II, 165, 186, 193–95, 197, 198–202, 203–4, 213–16, 239– 40, 257–59, 269–70, 774–75 Aššur-dan III, 278–79, 288–89, 366, 557, 560, 793 Aššur-etel-ilani, 319, 326–27, 328–30, 394, 724–25 Aššur-etel-ilani-mukin-apli (Aššuretel-ilani-mukinni), 312. See also Esarhaddon Aššur-etel-šame-erṣeti-muballissu, 313–14 Aššur-ila’i, 447 Aššur-ili-muballissu, 306 Aššur-ketta-lešir II, 180–81 Aššur-le’i of Karalla, 374–75, 809 Aššur-mukin-pale’a, 314 Aššur-nadin-šumi, 306, 309–10 Aššur-nerari III, 190 Aššur-nerari IV, 192

Aššur-nerari V, 261, 278–79, 288–89, 291–92, 294, 366, 402–3, 783t, 793–94, 804, 984–85 Aššur-nirka-da’’in, 270–71 Aššur-rabi II, 186, 192, 194, 195–96, 198–200 Aššur-ra’im-nišešu, 169–71, 179, 181–82 Aššur-reša-iši I, 167–68, 180, 183–84, 526–29, 547–48 Aššur-reša-iši II, 192–93, 194, 195–96 Aššur-šarru-uṣur, 875–76 Aššur-šuma-eriš, 177–79 Aššur-šumu-ušabši, 306 Aššur-taqiša-liblut, 313–14 Aššur-uballiṭ I, 429–30 Aššur-uballiṭ II, 331–33, 726 Assyria, 31, 122–23, 128–29, 161–62, 164–65, 167–68, 172, 173–74, 177–78, 179, 181–82, 183, 185, 186, 188–90, 194, 196–97, 200, 202–3, 205, 210–12, 216, 217–18, 219, 222, 223–25, 226–27, 230–31, 236, 239–40, 241, 245, 246, 261, 264, 267–68, 271–72, 273, 281, 297, 299, 302, 303–6, 309–10, 314, 316–18, 322–23, 324, 327, 328, 329–30, 332–33, 335–36, 352–54, 356–57, 358–59, 362–63, 364–65, 366–67, 368, 370, 371–72, 376–78, 379, 383–84, 385–86, 387–89, 392, 398–400, 402–4, 414, 425–27, 428–29, 430, 440, 466, 469, 470–72, 473–31, 475, 485, 499, 525–29, 531–34, 539–40, 545, 547–49, 553–55, 556–57, 558–59,

125

Index 560–62, 564–65, 567–68, 569–70, 574–75, 578, 588–90, 602–3, 622–25, 634, 652–54, 655–56, 662–63, 674–76, 680– 81, 696–701, 704–5, 709–10, 711, 717–18, 722–23, 724–25, 727, 729–30, 732–35, 740–42, 743, 744, 747–49, 752, 755–56, 758–59, 760, 773–75, 786, 790–98, 799–800, 801, 802–7, 808–9, 810, 811–12, 813–14, 815–17, 822, 828–29, 830–31, 832, 838, 844, 846, 851–52, 876–78, 915, 921–22, 929–30, 936–37, 945–46, 948–49, 956–57, 959, 960, 961–63, 966, 978, 979–81, 984–85, 988–89, 990–91, 992–96, 998, 1001, 1004, 1034–35, 1039–41, 1053, 1062, 1064–65, 1071, 1075–76, 1089–91, 1100–2, 1121, 1142–43, 1157, 1161–62, 1163–64, 1173–78, 1182–83, 1184–85, 1186–87 Aštart (Astarte), 18–19, 231, 271–72, 354–55, 361–62, 377–78, 382, 1030–32, 1036, 1039–41, 1042, 1044–45, 1053–55, 1083–84. See also Ba‘alat Gubal Astiru(wa), 977–78, 986 Astiru II, 986 Astuwalamanza of Carchemish, 943–44, 949–50 Astuwaramanza of Gurgum, 957–58 Astyages, 593–94, 727–29 Aswan, 85–87, 92–93, 139 Atakhebasken, 129–30 Ataliya, 298, 306

1215

Athaliah, 1155, 1157, 1159–60 Athamaita, 613–14 Atika, 986 Atlanersa, 133–34 Atlantic Ocean, 1045–47 Atlila, 226, 242–43, 539–40 Atrana, 753n.206 Atrisuha, 952–53 Atta-hamiti-Inšušinak, 607, 613–14, 622–26, 633–34 Attametu. See Huban-haltaš Attar-ham, 498n.251 Attar-šumki II, 984–85 Attar-šumki of Arpad, 279–80, 281–84, 364–66, 368, 979–81, 982–84, 988–89 Attis, 901n.134 Atum, 19–22, 63 Atuna, 302, 876–78, 880–81, 1000 Auarisarnu, 696, 697t Augustine, 1033 Auramazda, 707–8 Awariku, 993–95. See also Urikki; Warika Awayana, 954n.157 Aya-ammu, 324–25 Ayanis, 790, 806, 812–14, 819, 841, 843. See also Rusahinili-Eidurukai Ayapir, 631–36, 639 Ayusiaš, 752 Aza, 302–3, 373–76, 740–42, 743–44, 808–9 Azamada, 689, 697t Azariah, 1165–66 Azatiwada, 993–95, 1083–84 Azatiwadaya, 972, 993–94, 1047, 1059, 1083–84. See also Karatepe

126

1216

Index

Azatiwatas, 894 A’zaz, 963–64, 981, 983–84. See also Hazazi Azekah, 1166–68 Azerbaijan, 729–30, 806–7 Azi-Ba‘al, 1069–70 Azi-ili, 226–29 Azuri, 304–5, 376–77   Ba‘al, 361–62, 378–79, 1037, 1041, 1043, 1045, 1084–85, 1099 Ba‘al Gubal, 1041–42 Ba‘al Ḥammon, 1042 Ba‘al of Lebanon, 1041 Ba‘al Malage, 1042 Ba‘al Marqod, 1044 Ba‘al Ṣaphon, 1041, 1042, 1044 Ba‘al Shamim, 1041–42 Ba‘al of Sidon, 1037 Baalbek, 1034–35 Ba‘alat Gubal, 1039–41, 1076–80. See also Aštart Ba‘al-manzer of Tyre, 1085 Ba‘alu of Tyre, 475, 1039–41, 1042, 1092, 1097–98, 1100–1 Baasha, 1139–41 Ba’asa, 361–62 Bab el-Gasus, 13–14, 51 Bab-salimeti, 390 Baba-aha-iddina, 278, 555 Babanahe, 174n.54 Babil, 210–11, 219–20 Babitu Pass, 210, 225–26, 472. See also Bazian Pass Babu-ahu-iddina, 466 Babylon, 178–79, 188–89, 201–2, 203–4, 227, 245, 274–75, 295,

298, 301–2, 305–6, 308–10, 312– 13, 314, 318, 324–26, 328–29, 330, 331–32, 372, 377–78, 383– 84, 385, 386, 389–90, 391, 392, 394–95, 398–400, 404–8, 410, 411, 429–30, 524–25, 527–32, 534–35, 536–39, 543, 545–47, 548–49, 550–53, 555–65, 566– 69, 570–72, 573–74, 576–79, 602, 662, 718, 722, 725–26, 729, 1063, 1091–92, 1098, 1187, 1188, 1189 Babylonia, 161–62, 164–65, 167–68, 171–73, 177–79, 181, 188–90, 197–98, 201–2, 203–5, 211–12, 226, 227, 261, 270–71, 274–75, 278, 284, 294, 295, 301–2, 305–6, 308–10, 320–21, 328–31, 333–34, 357, 371–72, 377–78, 389–91, 392, 394–95, 398, 411, 427–30, 431–32, 477, 483–85, 491–92, 496, 520, 522, 523–25, 526–27, 530, 531–40, 542–43, 544–45, 547–49, 550–53, 554, 555–57, 558–62, 563–68, 569–75, 577–78, 588– 91, 662, 693–95, 724–25, 727, 732–34, 807, 808, 827, 1065, 1072–73, 1083–84, 1174–78, 1186–88 Badakhshan, 705–6 Baetocaece, 1044. See also Hosn Suleiman Bagbarna (Bagaparna), 697t Bagdatti of Uišdiš, 374–76, 739–40, 741–42 Bahianu (Baġyan), 207–8

127

Index Bahrain, 305–6. See also Dilmun Bahuri, 638–39, 647–51, 652–55, 656–58, 659–60 Ba’’it-ili, 691 Bakenrenef, 122 Bakur(r)ians, 647 Balawat, 219–20, 221, 227, 230–31, 232, 449–50, 772–73, 960–61, 965–66, 1087–88. See also Imgur-Enlil Ba’li, 284 Balikh River, 207, 211–12, 215, 224–25, 243–44, 271–72, 275, 330–31, 427–28, 804, 924–25, 965–66 Balkans, 871 Baltil, 292 Banbâ, 495 Banitu, 296–97, 571–72 Baranand Dagh, 225–26 Barbiri, 481 Bardada of Ṣibar, 684, 685t Bar-Ga’yah, 984–85 Bar-Hadad of Arpad, 983–84, 1083n.202 Bar-Hadad of Damascus, 983–84, 1078–80, 1161–62 Bar-Rakib, 993 Barhalzi, 294 Barikanu, 688, 697t, 701 Baruata, 808. See also Bit-Barrua Bar-uri, 497n.247 Bastam, 812–13, 848, 849. See also Rusai-URU.TUR Bastet, 19–22, 63, 140n.235 Batrun, 1073, 1074 Battigur?, 689

1217

Bayuda Desert, 87–89, 104–5, 132 Bazi, 542, 543–45, 546–47, 569 Bazian pass, 210, 225–26. See also Babitu Bazu, 316 Beersheba, 1145–46, 1153–54, 1160– 61, 1166, 1168, 1178–79, 1182–83, 1188–89 Behbahan, 594–96, 629–30 Beirut, 1031–32, 1033, 1037, 1043, 1044, 1073, 1082–83, 1092 Beken, 16–17 Bel, 195–96, 305n.235, 385, 527–29, 1000–1. See also Marduk Bel-apla-iddina, 227 Bel-deni-amur, 447 Belen Pass, 923–24 Bel-ereš, 195–96 Belesys, 722–23. See also Nabopolassar Belet-ili, 404 Belet-Kidmuri, 237–38. See also Šarrat-Kidmuri Bel-Harran-belu-uṣur, 286–87 Bel-ibni (commander of the Sealand), 324–25, 391 Bel-ibni of Babylon, 308–9 Bel-šaddû’a, 1091–92, 1098 Bel-tarṣi-ilumma, 280–81, 282–84 Benjamin, 1143, 1144–45, 1150–51, 1153–54, 1182, 1189 Benjamin Plateau, 1133, 1144–45, 1148, 1149–50, 1154 Beqaa Valley, 966–67, 1034–35 Berossus, 310–11, 562–63 Beruta. See Beirut Bes, 1042

128

1218

Index

Beth-Shean Valley, 1133, 1134–36, 1137–38, 1139–41, 1143, 1144–45, 1154–55, 1158, 1169 Bethel, 1133–34, 1144–45, 1146–47, 1148, 1164, 1168, 1182–83 Bethlehem, 1150–51 Beth-Shemesh, 1146, 1165, 1166–68 Beth-Zur, 1133. See also Khirbet at-Tubeqa Biainili, 779, 811–12, 833–34. See also Urartu Bialasi, 210–11 Bibiya, 482 Bikni, Mount, 679, 684, 705–6, 715–16. See also Damavand, Mount Binboğa Mountains, 922–23 Bin Tepe, 887n.89, 888n.96 Birat-Adad-remanni, 753n.205 Birecik, 803 Birishatri, 321–22, 719–20 Bırkleyn, 169–71, 174–75, 775. See also Tigris Tunnel Birnakan, 688, 697t Birrua, 752 Birtu, 294, 370 Bi’ru, Bi’ruti. See Beirut Bismil, 219–20 Bisotun, 613–14, 755 Bit-Abdadani, 678, 679–80, 682–83, 714–15 Bit-Adini, 194–95, 207, 226–31, 239–40, 243–44, 271–72, 274, 359–61, 567–68, 950n.138, 951, 952, 960–61, 966–67, 968 Bit-Agusi, 359–61, 365–66, 368, 793–94, 963–64, 966–67, 978–79, 982–83, 985, 1006–7. See also Arpad

Bit-Amukani, 274–75, 551–53, 563–65, 571 Bit-Bagaya, 711, 712t. See also Kar-Adad/Kar-Ištar Bit-Bahiani, 207–8, 230, 241–42 Bit-Barbari, 697t Bit-Bari, 697t Bit-Barru, 714 Bit-Barrua, 808. See also Baruata Bit-Bazi, 542–44, 546–47 Bit-Dakkuri, 274–75, 328, 559–60, 564–66, 567–68, 571 Bit-Gabbari, 974–75, 1007. See also Sam’al Bit-Halupe, 226–29, 240–41 Bit-Hamban, 274, 294–95, 527–29, 569–70, 678, 679–80, 682–83, 748–49 Bit-Hanuniya, 802, 812–13 Bit-Hašmar, 541 Bit-Hirmami, 697 Bithynia, 867, 870–71 Bit-Imbi, 322 Bitirume, 1074, 1082 Bit-Ištar, 685t Bit-Kapsi, 678, 685t Bit-kari, 711, 715–16 Bit-Karziabku, 527–29 Bitlis, 791 Bit-Paruta. See Bit-Purutaš Bit-Piri’-Amurru, 537–39 Bit-Purutaš, 304–5, 376–77, 805–6, 921–22, 998, 1000. See also Tabal Bit-Ramatiya (Bit-Ramatua), 697t Bit-Ruhubi, 361–62 Bit-Sa’alli, 564–65, 571 Bit-Sagbat (Bit-Sagabi), 684, 697t

129

Index Bit-Sangibuti, 697t Bit-Šilani, 564–65, 571 Bit-Sin-magir, 531 Bit-Uargi, 688 Bit-Yakin, 274–75, 305–6, 308–9, 556– 57, 558, 559–60, 564–66, 568, 571 Bit-Zamani, 211–12, 213–15, 222–25 Bit-Zitti, 1086n.219, 1096 Black Sea, 757, 770, 790, 867–68 Blemmyes, 134 Boğazköy, 898, 901–2, 903–4, 921–22 Bolkar Dağ, 973. See also Tunni, Mount Bor, 880–81, 1001–2 Borsippa, 274–75, 328, 390, 391, 392, 534–35, 549–50, 551–53, 555–56, 557–62, 566–67, 568–69, 570– 72, 573–74, 578–79 Borujerd, 678 Botrys, 1074n.169 Boz Mountains, 920 Breij, 1050–51, 1083–84 Briges, 870–71 Bubastis, 19–22, 43, 63 Budians, 695–96 Buhen, 126–27 Bukan, 730–32 Bulahau, 134 Bunanu, 172n.47 Bupilu, 644n.258 Bur-Anate of Yasbuq, 359–61 Burbuasu of Uratista, 689, 697t Burbuazu of Ginkir, 689, 697t Burdadi of Karzitali, 718 Burmarina, 491–92, 925–26, 960–61, 960n.185, 966–67. See also Marina; Tell Shiukh Fawqani

1219

Bur-Ramanu, 223–24 Burunkaya, 996–98 Busai, 695–96 Bustan esh-Sheikh, 1043, 1049 Buštu, 736–37, 739–40, 755–56 Bustus, 683–84, 688, 691, 692 Busut(u), 752 Butehamun, 7–8, 36–37 Buto, 49–50. See also Tell Fara’in Byblos, 1039–42, 1043–44, 1059, 1061–62, 1065, 1066–67, 1071, 1074–82, 1083–84, 1087–89, 1092, 1099–102. See also Gubla Byrsa, 1084–85   Cabul, 1098–99 Çadır Höyük, 921–22 Cádiz, 1045–46. See also Gades Caesarea, 1043 Çakıt Su, 922–23 Cambyses II, 139, 727–28, 756 Canaan, 1033–34, 1117–20, 1126–27, 1142–43, 1145, 1148–49, 1152– 54, 1155, 1161, 1170, 1171, 1185. See also Phoenicia Cappadocia, 867–68, 884–85, 903– 4, 921–23, 948–49, 958, 998, 999–1000 Carchemish, 64–65, 230–31, 302, 354–55, 357, 359–61, 400–1, 876–78, 879–80, 883, 894, 923– 24, 925–27, 930–34, 936–37, 938–40, 941–45, 948, 949–51, 952–54, 955–57, 958–61, 963– 68, 977–79, 981, 985–87, 988, 990–92, 994–95, 999, 1006–7, 1081, 1187. See also Hatti

120

1220

Index

Caria, 872–73 Carmel, Mount, 1034, 1083, 1099, 1100–1 Çarşamba River, 920 Carthage, 1027–30, 1041, 1042, 1044, 1045–46, 1084–85 Caspian Sea, 397, 770, 810–11, 815–16 Cassius Dio, 89n.14 Caucasus, 744, 750–51, 770 Çavuştepe, 819, 841. See also Haykaberd; Sardurihinili Cebelireis Dağı, 994–95, 1083–84 Cekke, 985, 986–87 Ceyhan River, 922–23. See also Pyramos Chaldea, 274–75, 390, 555 Chatal Höyük, 924–25, 935 Ciçantaxma, 727–28. See also Šitrantahma; Tritantaichmes Cilicia, 270–71, 272, 297, 302–3, 305–6, 316–17, 750, 816, 869– 70, 875–78, 921–22, 923–24, 935, 940–41, 955–56, 966–67, 969, 1007, 1047, 1089–91, 1096. See also Hiyawa; Hume; Plain Cilicia; Que; Rough Cilicia Cilician Gates, 921–23, 999–1000, 1004 Cimmerians, 486, 719, 744–46, 747–48, 750–51–, 753, 756–57, 758–59, 801, 811–12, 815–16, 851–52 Cineköy, 993–94, 1007, 1084–85 Cizre, 210–11 Cleobulus of Lindos, 888n.95 Colchis, 790. See also Qulha

Commagene, 458, 965–66. See also Kummuh Çoruh River, 770 Croesus, 885 Ctesias of Cnidus, 413, 721, 722–23, 724–25, 724t Cutha, 274–75, 391, 550–51, 555–56, 560–61, 566–67, 571–72 Cyaxares, 330–32, 395–97, 719, 722, 723–24, 725–26, 727–28, 755, 760–61. See also Umakištar Cybistra. See Tont Kalesi Cyme, 879 Cyprus, 305–6, 935, 1039–41, 1045– 46, 1050, 1059–60, 1069–70, 1074–75, 1081–82, 1085, 1086, 1096, 1097. See also Iadnana Cyrus II, 336, 588, 593–94, 604, 661, 727–29, 755, 885, 1063   Dad. See Adad Dagan (Dagon), 1038–39 Dagara, 225–26 Daida, 946 Daiku of Šaparda, 697t, 723–24, 724t Dalta, 305–6, 376–77, 691 Damascus, 271–72, 279, 284–85, 294–95, 301–2, 361–63, 372, 564–65, 968, 970, 979–81, 984–85, 988–89, 1034–35, 1062, 1073, 1078–80, 1085, 1088–89, 1095, 1101–2, 1154–57, 1158, 1161–62, 1173–74 Damavand, Mount, 679, 715–16. See also Bikni, Mount Damdammusa, 222–23, 224–25

12

Index Damiq-ilišu, 539–40 Dan, 1163, 1164, 1168 Danabu, 270–71 Dananu, 691 Dangeil, 95, 127–28, 139 Danibani, 799 Daniel, 459–60 Dannuna, 191–92 Danunim, 971–72 Darfur, 87–88 Dari, 697t Darius I, 548, 613–14, 755 Darue, Mount, 688 Darue River, 688 Dasht-e Kavir. See Great Salt Desert Dascylium. 867–68, 874 Datumbu, 688, 697t David, 955, 1115, 1120–23, 1129, 1143–44, 1146–49, 1150–52, 1155, 1158–61, 1165, 1166–68, 1170–71, 1172–73, 1175–76, 1179, 1180–81, 1183–84, 1186– 87, 1188–89 Dayeni, 174–75 Dayukku of Messi, 374–75, 723, 724t, 739–40, 742 Dayyan-Aššur, 273–74, 275–76, 290, 734, 975–77 Dead Sea, 1162, 1183–84 Debba, 104–6, 136–37 Debeira East, 100–1, 102–3 Dedwen, 107n.96, 133–34 Deioces, 722, 723–24, 724t Deir al-Qal’a, 1044 Deir el-Bahri, 48–49 Deir el-Medina, 36–37 Delphi, 879, 1032, 1044

1221

Der, 203–4, 278, 284, 301–2, 320, 322, 527–29, 534–35, 544–45, 547–48, 554–55, 556, 593–94 Dez, 592 Diauhi, 787–88, 789, 837–38, 843, 851–52 Dibabieh Quarry, 5–6 Dibonite, 1127–28, 1157, 1172–73 Diesehebsed, 70–71 Dilbat, 328, 551–53, 559–61, 564–65, 571–72, 573–74 Dilmun, 305–6. See also Bahrain Dimašqa. See Damascus Dinar, 867–68. See also Kelainai Diodorus, 89n.14 Dios, 1060 Diristanu, 691 Dirru, 222–24 Diuṣini Iganiehi, 788 Diyala River, 203–5, 525–26, 542, 546–47, 554–55, 557 Diyarbakır, 224–25, 965–66. See also Amedi Djedkhonsuefankh, 7, 10 Djedthotefankh A, 19 Döğer, 867–68 Dokki Gel, 94, 127–28, 135, 139 Dongola Reach, 87–89, 95, 97–98, 104–5 Dor, 1083, 1099–100, 1174 Dorginarti, 105–6 Dorylaion, 867, 870–71. See also Eskişehir Dümrek, 891–93, 902–3 Dunanu, 322 Dunnu-ša-Uzibi, 172, 183. See also Giricano

12

1222

Index

Dur-Abi-Hara, 656n.322 Dur-Aduk-limmu. See Dur-Katlimmu Dur-Aššur, 226, 242–43, 539–40 Dur-Bel-Harran-belu-uṣur, 286–87 Duresi, 697t Dur-Katlimmu, 207–8, 215, 282–84, 331–32, 335–36, 466, 491–92. See also Tell Sheikh Hamad Dur-Kurigalzu, 178–79, 211–12, 532–35, 560–61 Dur-Papsukkal, 278, 554–55, 569–70 Dur-Šarrukin, 238–39, 259, 299–301, 304–6, 307, 373, 398–400, 403– 7, 432, 443, 450, 466, 470–71, 474, 546–47, 706, 888–90, 1049. See also Khorsabad Dur-Tukulti-apil-Ešarra, 808 Duru-ša-Ladini, 328 Dur-Yakin, 305–6 Dusanni of Šaparda, 716–17 Duteti, 559–60 Düver, 867–68   Ea, 385, 404 Ea-mukin-zeri of Babylon, 541–42 Ea-mukin-zeri (priest), 539–40 Eanna, 548–49, 551–53, 558–59 Eastern Desert, 88–89, 134 Ebabbar, 548–49 Ebla, 1127–28 Ecbatana, 689, 722, 723–24, 729. See also Hamadan Eda-eṭir, 559–60 Edfu, 126–27 Edom, 382, 1175–76 Egara. See Ingira Ehulhul, 461

Ekallatum, 177–78, 428n.6, 531–32 Ekal-pi-nari, 198–200 Ekecik Mountains, 921–22 Ekron, 308–9, 378, 379–81, 382, 474, 1034–35, 1038–39, 1176–79. See also Tel Miqne Ekur, 530 Elah, 1174 Elam, 305–6, 309–10, 322, 357, 390, 391, 394, 477, 525–26, 527–30, 531–32, 540–41, 544–45, 560, 576–78, 588–91, 593–94, 597– 600, 602, 603–5, 607, 609–11, 613, 618–19, 631–34, 637–38, 639–41, 646–47, 648, 654, 655–57, 659–62, 663, 808 Elath, 1165–66 Elazığ, 173, 224–25, 869, 936–37 Elbistan Plain, 922–23, 927, 930–31, 938, 946, 958, 985–86, 991–92, 1006–7 El Carambolo, 1039–41, 1053–55, 1083–84 Elenzaš, 712t, 714. See also Kar-Sîn-ahhe-eriba Elephantine, 39–40, 41–43, 110–11, 131–32 el-Hiba, 8–9, 12–13, 19–22, 24–25, 40–43 el-Hofra, 1033 Eli-Ba‘al, 1075–78 Elijah, 1092, 1099 Elissa, 1084–85 Elizki, 797–98 el-Kurru, 30–31, 32, 49–50, 87, 90– 91, 95, 99, 100–1, 102, 107–9, 110, 111–12, 114–17, 119–20, 123– 24, 129–32, 138, 140, 142–43

123

Index Ellipi, 304–6, 308–9, 376–77, 593– 94, 678, 691, 692, 714 el-Meragh, 132 Eloulaios, 1086n.220. See also Shalmaneser V el-Tameer, 113 Eltekeh, 31–32, 122–23, 378–79, 492–93. See also Tell ash-Shallaf Eluhat, 194 Emar, 932 Enapis, 132 En-Gedi, 1182–83 Enapis, 132 Enhydra, 1070. See also Tell Ghamqa Enlil, 237, 403–4, 410, 427, 529–31, 534–35, 537–39, 540–41, 570– 71, 577–78, 772–73 Enlil-nadin-ahi, 524–25 Enlil-nadin-apli, 525–26, 531–32 Enzata, 936–37 Enzi, 794–95, 804–5, 838 Eparna, 715–16 Ephesus, 1060, 1083 Ephraim, 1138–39, 1148, 1149–50, 1173–74 Ephratite, 1138–39 Erbil, 427–28, 748–49, 801. See also Arbela Erdaş Mountains, 921–22 Erebuni, 789, 840–41. See also Arin Berd Ereğli, 973 Erekuahi, 788–89 Ereni, Mount, 285 Eretria, 979n.255 Ergani, 224–25, 240–41, 242–43. See also Arqania, Mount Eriahi, 789–90

1223

Eriba-Adad I, 190 Eriba-Adad II, 189–90, 536 Eriba-Marduk, 522, 556–60, 568–69, 570–71 Eriba-Sin, 540–41 Eridu, 539–40 Erimena, 783t, 785–86, 814 Erisinni, 754 Erištana, 691 Eristeyana, 752 Eriya, 527–29 Erra, 578–79 Erzincan, 802–3 Esagil, 312–13, 389–90, 406–7, 408, 410, 411, 522–23, 548–49 Esagil-kin-apli, 522–23, 535–36, 576–77 Esagil-kina-ubbib, 535–36, 576–77 Esagil-šadduni, 534 Esarhaddon (Aššur-ahu-iddina), 31–34, 128–29, 259–60, 261, 306, 310–19, 320, 323, 324, 328, 377, 381, 382–89, 394, 398, 402, 410, 411, 412, 429– 30, 446, 449–50, 458, 459–61, 469, 471, 473, 475, 477, 481–82, 483–86, 494–95, 496, 558–59, 652–54, 705–6, 711, 715, 717–18, 719, 724t, 747–51, 753, 755–56, 757, 759, 783t, 799, 800–1, 815–16, 992–93, 1004, 1034–35, 1039–41, 1042, 1062–63, 1069–70, 1074, 1081, 1082, 1089–91, 1092, 1096– 97, 1100–1, 1181–82, 1184–85 Ešarra, 408, 410 Ešarra-hammat, 313–14 Esbe, 16–17 Eskişehir, 867, 898–99. See also Dorylaion

124

1224

Index

Eslamabad, 611 Ešmun, 1041–42, 1044, 1084–85 Ešmun-azor II, 1059, 1099–100 Etemenanki, 389–90 Eth-Ba‘al. See Itho-Ba‘al Etiuni, 780–81, 788–90, 791, 811–12, 814 Etruria, 466n.122, 1045–46 et-Tell, 1174 Euboea, 979n.255 Eulmaš-šakin-šumi, 542–44 Euphrates River, 161–62, 174–75, 177–78, 180, 181–82, 185–86, 194–95, 197–98, 207–8, 211–12, 213–15, 222, 226, 227–31, 239–41, 242–44, 270–72, 273, 279–80, 281–82, 309–10, 330–31, 332–33, 357, 358–59, 361, 363, 364–66, 368–69, 395, 427–28, 475–76, 479, 491–92, 549–50, 570–72, 754, 769–70, 775, 791–92, 793–95, 802–5, 837–38, 852, 924–27, 929–30, 932, 936–37, 939–41, 949–51, 952, 960–61, 965–67, 968, 969, 970–71, 979–81, 982, 988–89, 1006–7, 1062, 1081 Eusebius of Caesarea, 1043 Ezekiel, 1055, 1094 Ezida, 432, 532–33, 559–60 Ezion-gaber, 1165–66. See also Tell el-Kheleifah   Fahliyan River, 594n.15, 631n.187 Falastin, 231, 923–24, 934–36, 940, 941–42, 954, 960–63, 964–65, 966–67, 970, 971, 975–77,

1006–7, 1034–35, 1064–957, 1065–66. See also Amuq Plain; Patin; Unqi Fayum, 40–41 Fenkhu, 1032–33 Flavius Josephus, 1074, 1083, 1085, 1093, 1098 Fortress of the Babylonian, 678, 683, 684. See also Alvand, Mount Fravartiš, 727–28. See also Phraortes; Par(u)martiš   Gabala, 1065, 1071. See also Jableh (Ga)burisa, 734 Gabbar, 974–75 Gabbu-ilani-ereš, 245 Gablini, 330–31 Gades, 1045–46. See also Cádiz Gagi, 696, 719–20 Gala Abu Ahmed, 105–6 Galilee, 295, 1038, 1098–99 Gambulu, 322, 490n.210, 656n.322 Gannanati, 274–75, 278, 288, 554–55, 557 Garidâ, 497n.248 Gath, 474, 1145–46, 1148–49, 1155, 1157–58, 1160–61, 1170. See also Tell es-Ṣafi Gaza, 301–2, 372, 379–81, 382, 474, 1163 Gebel Barkal, 30, 83–84, 87, 89–91, 94–95, 98, 100, 104, 106, 106n.91, 110, 111–13, 117–18, 122, 126–28, 129–32, 133–34, 135, 136–39, 140–41 Gebelein, 13–14, 40–41 Gebel Moya, 90, 92

125

Index Gebel Sahaba, 105–6 Gedaliah, 1189 Gedi, 1173–74 Gempaaten, 91, 134. See also Kawa Gerçin, 993 Geshur, 1157–58 Gezbel pass, 922–23, 973 Gezer, 14, 1038–39, 1174 Ghab valley, 923–24 Gidara, 205–7. See also Raqammatu Gihon, 1161 Giki, 730 Gilead, 1137–38, 1148, 1156–57. See also Qarnina Gilgamesh, 573–74 Gilzanu, 191–92, 210, 356–57, 732– 34, 775, 780–81, 822 Gilzau, 361–62 Gindibu, 361–62 Ginizinanu, 685t Ginkir, 689, 697t Giparu, 530–31 Gira, 478n.164 Gird-i Rostam, 753n.205 Giricano, 172, 183. See also Dunnu-ša-Uzibi Giza, 11 Gizanu (merchant), 498n.251 Gizilbunda, 277–78, 303–4, 678, 681, 682–83, 684, 685t, 689, 697t, 732–34 God’s Wife of Amun, 27–28, 29–31, 64–65, 66–67, 69–70, 110–11, 122, 128 Göksü River, 368–69, 988n.295. See also Kalykadnos River; Sinzi River

1225

Gök Tepe, 177–78. See also Arzuhina Gölbaşı, 926–27 Göllü Dağ, 921 Gordion, 867–68, 870–71, 872–74, 875–80, 881, 883, 884, 885, 886– 90, 893, 894–98, 901–3, 904, 920, 929–30, 973–74, 981–82. See also Yassıhöyük Gordias, 867, 874, 880–81 Göynüş. See Köhnüş Gozan, 1175–76. See also Guzana; Tell Halaf Great Khorasan Road, 737–38, 755 Great Salt Desert, 674–76, 679, 692, 715–16 Great Salt Lake, 921–22 Greece, 969n.222 Guadalquivir River, 1039–41 Gubla, 1065. See also Byblos Gula, 208–9, 385 Gulkišar, 531 Gulutahi, 789 Gunzinanu, 376–77, 991–92 Gurdî of Kulummu, 305–6, 309, 377 Gurgum, 100–2, 279–80, 304–5, 356–57, 364–66, 368, 793–94, 804, 805–6, 876–78, 922–23, 926–27, 946, 957–58, 963, 964– 65, 966–67, 968–69, 978–81, 985–86, 988–91, 994–95, 1007 Guriania, 744–46 Gurmarritu. See Samarra; Sur-marrati Gurreans, 478–80, 481–83, 485–86 Gürün, 946 Gusi, 963–64 Gusinê, 752

126

1226

Index

Guti, 792 Gutium, 324–25, 390. See also Zagros Mountains Guzana, 207–8, 241–42, 284, 288, 331–32, 335–36, 466, 480–81, 491–92, 927, 1078–80, 1174–75. See also Gozan; Tell Halaf Gyges, 320, 757–58, 759   Habhu, 191–92, 304–5, 794–95, 822, 965–66 Habinu, 230 Habriuru, 181–82, 200, 211–12, 225. See also Harir Plain Hadad, 950n.138, 993, 1078–80 Hadad-ezer of Damascus, 361–63, 1062. See also Adda-idri Hadad-ezer of Zobah, 955 Hadad-ysʿi of Guzana, 1078–80 Hadanu, 644n.258 Hadasâ, 498n.251 Hadatu, 466, 952, 1053. See also Arslan Tash Hadda-idri, 1155–56 Hadianu, 285 Ḥadrak, 978–79, 983. See also Hatarikka; Tell Afis Hagabata. See Ecbatana Haha, 828–29 Haidalu, 644n.258 Haidar Khan Qal’e, 730n.131. See also Qalaichi Tepe Hakkubaya, 493n.223 Halahhu, 468 Haldi, 303–4, 779–80, 790, 795–97, 798, 812–13, 821, 822, 829–32, 833–34, 847, 851, 852

Haldiei-URU-KUR.Ziuquni. See Kafkale Halhalauš, 191–92 Halhubarra, 697t Halitu, 813–14 Halkataš, 632n.192 Hallušu, 309–10, 662n.352 Hallutaš-Inšušinak, 620nn.133–34 Hallutuš-Inšušinak, 613–14 Halman, 271–72, 970. See also Aleppo Halmusu, 497n.249 Halpa, 803 Halparuntiya I (Qalparuda) of Gurgum, 279–80, 968–69 Halparuntiya II (Qalparuda) of Gurgum, 365, 988–89 Halparuntiya (Qalparunda) of Unqi, 956–57, 967–68 Halpasulupi of Melid, 946–47 Halpi, 368–69, 793–94, 989 Halulê, 309–10 Halys River, 867–68, 884–85. See also Kızılırmak Halziluha (Halzi-Eluhat), 194 Hama, 285, 466, 915–16, 923–24. See also Hamath Hamadan, 678, 679, 689, 723–24. See also Ecbatana Hamataya, 226–27 Hamath, 282–84, 294–95, 297–98, 301–2, 361–62, 363, 372, 458, 466, 477, 915–16, 923–25, 954– 55, 963, 968, 969–71, 975–77, 978–79, 981, 982–83, 1006–7, 1034–35, 1062, 1072–73, 1078– 80, 1155–56, 1162, 1173–75. See also Hama

127

Index Hamban. See Bit-Hamban Hamiyata, 951–53, 959 Hamrana, 560–61 Hamurga, 963–64 Hana, 187–88 Hanaṣiruka, 681, 735 Hanigalbat, 205–8, 936–37 Hanni, 615–16, 627, 630–36, 639 Hanno. See Hanunu Hanuniya, 812–13 Hanunu, 301–2, 372 Hapatila, 951 Har(a)na, 734 Hara-Adda, 498n.251 Hara(n), 655–56 Haraiva, 679, 692. See also Aria Harhar, 274, 302–3, 308–9, 493, 678, 680, 682–83, 686, 689–90, 691, 693, 697t, 701–2, 704–5, 709– 10, 711–12, 712t, 714, 715–17, 723–24. See also Kar-Šarrukin Harhubarban, 697t Haria, 174 Harira, 191–92 Harir Plain, 181–82. See also Habriuru Harkhuf, 28 Harnup Dağı, 963n.196 Harran, 326, 330–33, 387–89, 432– 33, 461, 468, 490–91, 655–56, 726, 927, 1186–87 Harrania, 748–49. See also Raniya Harrua, 876–78 Harsiese B (High Priest of Amun), 23–25 Harsiese (son of Takelot B), 23–24 Harsiese H, 23–24, 27

1227

Harsiyotef, 110, 140–41 Hartapu, 869–70, 879–80, 928–31, 996–98 Harutu, 210 Harzianu, 688, 701 Hasanbeyli, 923–24, 1083–84 Hasanbeyli−Fevzipaşa Pass, 923–24 Hasandağ, 921 Hasanlu, 191–92 Hašime[…], 837–38 Hašmar, Mount, 472 Hatamana, 949–50 Hatarikka, 288, 294–95, 978–79, 983. See also Ḥadrak; Tell Afis Hatarna of Sikris, 718 Hatay, 923–24 Hate. See Hatti Hathor, 63, 115–17, 126–27, 462, 1039–41, 1050 Hatru, 550 Hatshepsut, 36–37, 48–49, 64–65, 107n.96 Hatti, 230–31, 271–72, 304–5, 316–17, 356–57, 368, 401, 806, 934n.89, 936–37, 939, 960, 964–66, 973, 979–81, 1097. See also Carchemish Hattusa, 428–29, 912, 927–28, 930, 931, 933, 956 Hattusili (Qatazili) of Kummuh, 965–67, 988–89 Hattusili III, 927–28 Hauran, 1174n.209 Haurina, 295, 1174n.209 Havuzköy, 921–22 Hayašayu, 181 Haydala. See Hidali

128

1228

Index

Haykaberd, 819. See also Çavuştepe; Sardurihinili Hayyanu of Sam’al, 359–61 Hazael of Damascus, 271–72, 970, 978–79, 1078–80, 1145–46, 1156, 1157–58, 1160–62, 1163–64 Hazazi, 284, 963–64, 981, 983–84. See also A’zaz Haza‘il of Qedar, 322n.326 Hazor, 1136–37, 1163, 1174 Hebron, 1133 Hejaz, 475–76 Hellespontine Phrygia, 874 Henuttawy (Chantress of Amun), 68 Henuttawy A, 7–8, 10 Heqanefer, 97n.53 Heraion of Samos, 979n.255 Herakleopolis, 16, 19, 22, 26–27, 30 Herihor, 5–7, 17–18 Herishef, 22, 23–24 Hermopolis, 22, 26–28, 30, 39–40 Herodotus, 89n.14, 139, 143, 592, 593–94, 695–96, 721–22, 723– 25, 724t, 749–50, 759, 868–69, 870–71, 879, 1063–64 Hes, 16–17 Hezekiah of Judah, 128–29, 308–9, 377–81, 444, 1176–79, 1181 Hidali, 322, 598–600 Higazeh, 12–13 Hilakku, 309, 321, 359–61, 757, 966– 67, 968–69, 998–99, 1002–4, 1005, 1007. See also Pirindu; Rough Cilicia Hilaruada, 803–4, 991–92 Hildua, 1082 Hilika, 968–69

Hillat el-Arab, 94–95, 104 Himme, 187–88 Hindanu (Hinzanu), 207–8, 226, 227–29, 281–82, 330–31, 356–57, 395, 476–77 Hiram, 1032–33, 1060, 1085, 1093, 1094, 1095–96, 1098–99 Hirika, 946, 968–69 Hirimu, 210, 550 Hirumu. See Hiram Hit, 479. See also Itu Hivites, 1150–51 Hiyawa, 921–23, 953–54, 955–56, 963, 966, 993–94, 1005, 1007. See also Cilicia; Hume; Plain Cilicia; Que Hodul Mountains, 921–22 Homer, 89n.14, 871n.22 Homs Gap, 1033–34, 1066, 1072 Horemakhet, 122 Hornakht, 44–45 Horus, 7–8, 68–69, 124, 1053, 1076–78 Horus-the-Child, 71 Ḥorvat ῾Uza, 1185–86 Hoshea, 1174–75 Hosh el-Geruf, 114–15 Hosn Suleiman, 1044. See also Baetocaece House of Salt. See Great Salt Desert Huban-ahpi, 570–71 Huban-gisir, 643–44 Huban-haltaš, 325–26, 394, 622–25, 634, 659. See also Ummanaldaš Huban-immena, 608–12, 613–16, 621, 622–26, 627, 633–34, 638, 641

129

Index Huban-kitin, 626–27, 633n.199, 638, 641–44 Huban-nikaš, 322, 324–25, 390, 391, 598–600, 602, 609, 611–12, 660. See also Ummanigaš Huban-tahra, 662n.352 Hubuškia, 210, 273, 284, 356–57, 681–82, 732–34, 742–49, 775 Huhnur, 629n.173, 630n.180 Hujair Gubli, 93n.31, 136–37 Huka, 824–25 Hulaya, 222–23, 774–75 Hulaya Riverland, 928n.60 Huleh valley, 1133–34, 1136–37, 1163 Hullî, 998–99 Hulteludiš-Inšušinak, 527–29 Hume, 1005. See also Hiyawa; Que Hundur, 493 Huniṣâ, 497n.248 Hunusa, 176 Hupisna. See Hupušna Hupušna, 973, 1004. See also Tont Kalesi Hurman River, 946n.128 Hurpata, 970–71. See also Arpad Hušaeans, 828–29 Huteluduš-Inšušinak, 588, 597, 597n.24, 604–7, 608–9, 622 Hu-Teššub, 844–45 Hutran-tepti, 555–56 Hutuini, 831–32 Huwa-SARMA, 945n.123 Huy, 97n.53 Huzana, 802–3 Huzirina, 207, 211–12, 215, 432–33, 490–91, 950n.138, 965–66. See also Sultantepe

1229

Iaba, 292, 296–98 Iadnana, 1097. See also Cyprus Ianzu, 274 Iata’, 322n.326 Iau-bi’di of Hamath, 301–2 Iauta’, 322–23, 324–25 Ibbi-Sin, 629n.173 Iberian Peninsula, 197–98, 1045–46 Idalion, 1059–60 Iddin-ahhe, 1072–73 Idu, 181–82, 196–97, 202–3, 219–20, 526–27, 547–48, 679. See also Satu Qala Igali, 688, 697t Iglî, 498n.251 Ikhy, 51 Ikiša, 824–25 Ik-Teššub of Šubria, 384, 800–1 Ilanu, 223–25 Ildamuša, 790 Ili-ibni, 227 Ili-iddina, 169–71, 172, 181–82 Illimmeru, Mount, 370. See also Mila Mergi Illubru, 309, 1002–3 Il-ma’in, 497n.247 Iluia, 202–3 Ilu-ṭaba, 497n.249 Iluwasi, 968–69 Imgur-Enlil, 219–20, 221, 227, 230– 31, 232, 355, 449–50, 772–73, 960–61, 965–66, 1087–88. See also Balawat Imukehek, 17–18 Inaros, 412 Inaya, 824–25 İncirli, 994–95, 1007

1230

1230

Index

Indada, 625–26, 627, 630, 631–33, 638, 641–42 Indareans, 750 Indian Ocean, 88–89 Indû, 498n.251 Ingira, 1002–3. See also Vıranşehir Ini-Teššub II, 931n.73, 936–37, 939–40, 943 Inner Mazamua. See Mazamua; Zamua Inner Taurus, 770 Inšušinak, 604–5, 618–19, 623n.151 Inušpua, 783t Iny, 25–26 Ionians, 302–3 Ir(i)-Teššub, 930–31 Iranian Plateau, 493, 547–48, 602–3, 629–30, 674–78, 679–80, 682– 83, 689–90, 693, 703, 704–5, 706–7, 709–10, 711–12, 717–18, 719, 720, 723, 727, 728, 747–48, 756, 770, 794, 816 Iranzu of Mannea, 302, 371–75, 737, 738–41, 743–44, 755–56, 808–9 Irem, 104–5 Irhulenu. See Urhilina Irkiuni, 736n.141 Irnisa, 689, 697t Irqanatu, Irqata. See Arqa Irtukkanu, 701–2 Išalani. See Izalla Isfahan, 678, 679, 717–18 Isin, 522–23, 524–26, 531, 532–35, 537–40, 549–50, 554, 576–79 Isis, 11, 64–65, 68–69, 107, 124, 1053 Iskallû of Tabal, 992–93

Iskenderun, Gulf of, 955–56, 1034, 1063–64 İslahiye Valley, 923–25 Išmerikka, 949–50. See also S(a) mar(i)ka; Siverek Ispabara. See Ašpabara Išpakaia, 748–49 Išpilipri(a), 776, 812–13 Išpuini (Ušpina) of Urartu, 736, 777–82, 783t, 785–86, 813–14, 823–24, 829–31, 832, 837–38, 845, 849–50 Išqigulu, 816 Išqugulhi, 816 Israel, 271–72, 361–62, 378–79, 433– 34, 436–37, 464–66, 641–42, 1035–36, 1038, 1044–45, 1053, 1057–58, 1060, 1062, 1066, 1073, 1074, 1083, 1085, 1088–89, 1094, 1099–100, 1101–2, 1115– 17, 1120–23, 1128–29, 1130–31, 1138–39, 1140–43, 1145–51, 1152, 1155–62, 1163, 1164–66, 1167– 70, 1171, 1172–75, 1179, 1183–84, 1185, 1186–87 Issachar, 1139–40 Issarduri, 783t Ištar, 190, 191, 231–32, 237–38, 385, 404, 431–32, 488, 490–91, 498, 558–59, 560, 712t, 1004 Ištar-durani, 797–98 Ištar-emuqaya, 224n.312 Ištar-hundu. See Šutruk-Nahhunte Ištatti, 753n.206 Istemkheb, 12–13 Ištesukka of Kayatani, 688, 697t Ištesuku of Kayatani, 696, 697t

123

Index Ište’uppu, 697t Ištuanda, 1000 Ištumegu. See Astyages Išum, 578–79 Išuwa, 936–37 Italy, 1027–30 ‘It-Ba‘al. See Itho-Ba‘al Itho-Ba‘al, 378–79, 1060, 1074, 1085–86, 1089 Ithobalos. See Itho-Ba‘al Ittî of Allabria, 374–75, 809 Itti-Marduk-balaṭu, 524–25, 532–34 Itti-Šamaš-balaṭu, 1069–70 Itu, Itu’eans, 284, 285, 288, 478–83, 485–86. See also Hit; Utu’u Iubša, 832 Iuput, 19–22 Iuput I, 25–26 Iuput II, 25, 49–50 Ivriz, 880, 894, 1001–2, 1083–84 Iyani, 789 Izalla (Izala), 791 Izeh, 625–26, 627, 630 Izgın, 946, 958, 968–69 Izirtu, 321–22, 375, 730–32, 734, 736, 741, 742–43, 752, 809–10. See also Zirta   Jabbok Passage, 1138–39, 1153–54 Jabbul Plain, 924–25 Jableh, 1064–65. See also Gabala Jacob, 1164, 1172–73 Jaffa, 122–23 Javankaleh, 807 Jebel Ansariyah, 1034–35, 1044, 1066 Jebel Aqra, 1041, 1063. See also Zaphon, Mount

1231

Jebel Bashiqa, 403. See also Muṣri, Mount Jebel Bishri, 936–37 Jebel Hamrin, 198–200 Jebel Maqlub, 173. See also Muṣru Jebel Sinjar, 185–86, 215, 227–29 Jebusites, 1150–51 Jehoahaz, 1161–62, 1187 Jehoash, 1159–61, 1165 Jehoiachin, 1187 Jehoiada, 1159–60 Jehoiakim, 1187, 1188 Jehoram, 1155, 1157, 1158–60, 1171 Jehoshaphat, 1155, 1159–60 Jehu, 271–72, 1085, 1088, 1140–41, 1156, 1157, 1158, 1159–60 Jerablus Tahtani, 925–26 Jericho, 1182–83 Jeroboam I, 1138–39, 1164 Jeroboam II, 1094, 1161–66, 1168, 1171–72, 1173–74, 1186–87 Jerusalem, 18–19, 106, 122–23, 308–9, 378, 379–81, 444, 641–42, 1043, 1049, 1115, 1129–30, 1131, 1133, 1143–45, 1146–52, 1153–54, 1159–60, 1161, 1165, 1166–68, 1170–72, 1173–74, 1178–81, 1182, 1183– 86, 1187–89 Jerwan, 307–8 Jezirah, 208–9, 215, 227–29, 476 Jezreel, 1131–33, 1134, 1136–38, 1139– 40, 1143, 1144–45, 1153–55, 1158, 1163–64 Jisr al-Shughur, 964. See also Aribua Joahaz, 1158, 1161–62 Joash, 1088, 1161–62, 1165

123

1232

Index

Joram, 1142–43, 1155–56, 1157, 1158–59, 1171 Jordan River, 1033–34 Joshua, 1117, 1172–73, 1185 Josiah, 1182–85, 1186–88 Jotham, 1165–66, 1173–74 Jubaji ( Joobji), 629–30, 633n.199 Judah, 106, 128–29, 308–9, 377–78, 379–81, 382, 444, 1050, 1057– 58, 1066, 1088, 1115–17, 1120–23, 1128–30, 1146–49, 1150–52, 1154, 1155, 1157–62, 1165–68, 1170–71, 1172–74, 1175–87, 1188–89 Judah-Benjamin highlands, 1148–49 Judean Hills, 1129–30, 1133, 1148–49, 1182 Judean Lowlands, 1145, 1146, 1148– 49, 1160–61, 1166, 1178–80, 1182–83, 1188–89. See also Shephelah Justin, 1086–87   Kadašman-Buriaš, 179, 532–34 Kadimalo. See Karimala Kahat, 209, 211–12. See also Tell Barri Kahramanmaraş, 279–80, 922–23, 946, 957–58, 966–67, 968–69, 988, 989–90. See also Gurgum; Marqasu Kaitanu. See Kayatani Kakkam, 697t Kalhayu, 481 Kalhu, 117–18, 162–64, 184, 217–21, 227–29, 231–33, 236, 237, 238–39, 240, 246, 259, 262, 269–71, 272, 274–75, 276–77,

280–81, 282–84, 285, 288–89, 291–93, 296–97, 298, 299–301, 307, 314–16, 328, 329–30, 354, 355–57, 363–64, 366–67, 372, 383, 385, 386–87, 400–1, 402– 4, 432, 433–34, 443, 445–46, 458, 461–62, 466, 468, 483–85, 492–93, 494–95, 498, 536–37, 560–61, 964–65, 970, 972–73, 987–88, 990–91, 1007, 1053. See also Nimrud Kalmakarra, 594–96, 638, 645–47 Kalykadnos River, 922–23. See also Göksü River Kamani, 894, 960, 977–78, 985–87 Kaman-Kalehöyük, 921–22 Kamas-halta, 322–23 Kammanu, 304–5, 376–77, 382–83, 985–86, 991–92 Kamulla, 177–78 Kanad, 137–38 Kandalanu, 325–26, 330, 392 Kangavar, 686 Kannu’, 498n.251 Kanzabkani, 688, 701 Kaprabu, 230 Kaqqadanu, 850–51 Karabel, 897–98n.124 Karaburçlu, 957 Karacadağ, 920, 965–66. See also Kubbu, Mount Karacakaya Tomb, 893 Kar-Adad/Kar-Ištar, 711, 712t. See also Anzaria; Bit Bagaya Karadağ, 920, 928–30 Karahöyük, 922–23, 930–31 Karakka of Uriaka, 697t

123

Index Karalla, 302–3, 304–6, 374–75, 809 Kar-Ashurnasirpal, 227–29, 242. See also Tell Masaikh Karasu, 924–25, 926–27 Karatepe, 894, 972, 993–94, 1047, 1059, 1083–84. See also Azatiwadaya Karduniaš, 203–4, 210 Kar-Esarhaddon (Kar-Aššur-ahuiddina), 316–17, 1089. See also Sidon Karhuha, 932 Karib’il Watar, 410 Karimala, 99, 107, 109 Karintaš. See Kartaš Kar-Kašši, 716–17, 747. See also Qarkasia Karkheh, 592 Kar-Marduk, 543–44, 546–47 Karmir Blur, 812–13, 816, 824, 825, 841, 843–44 Kar-Nabû, 712t. See also Kišešlu Karnak, 3–4, 5–6, 7–8, 10, 13–14, 18–19, 24–25, 30–32, 41–43, 44, 63, 66, 68–69, 126–28, 133–34, 1117, 1152–54 Kar-Nergal, 303–4, 689–90, 712t. See also Kišesim Kar-Šarrukin, 302–3, 689–90, 712t. See also Harhar Kar-Shalmaneser. See Masuwari; Tell Ahmar; Til Barsip Kar-Sin-ahhe-eriba, 712t, 714. See also Elenzaš Kar-Sin, 712t. See also Kindau Kartal Mountains, 924–25, 926–27. See also Kurt Mountains

1233

Kartaš, 611 Kar-Tukulti-Ninurta, 404. See also Tulul al-‘Aqar Karun, 592 Karzibra, 684 Karzinu, 688, 697t, 703, 704 Karzitali, 718 Kashta, 29–31, 49–50, 65, 110–12, 119–20 Kašiyari Mountains, 173, 770–72, 775, 776–77. See also Tur Abdin Mountains Kaska, 774, 929–30, 938 Kassite, 308–9, 496–97, 520–21, 524–26, 527–29, 540–41, 542, 554–55, 569–70, 573–74, 575– 76, 577–78, 716–17 Kaššu-nadin-ahhe, 541–43, 569 Kaštaritu of Kar-Kašši, 716–17, 747–48 Kaštilla, 177–78 Katarza, 780–81, 789 Katê of Que, 272, 359–61, 972 Katimala. See Karimala Katmuhu, 173–74, 200, 202–3, 205– 7, 213–16, 241, 243, 774–75, 929–30 Katuwa, 939, 943, 948, 952–54, 955–57, 959 Kawa (temple), 87–88, 91–92, 94– 95, 106, 107, 110, 126–27, 132–33, 134, 136–37, 140–41. See also Gempaaten Kawa. See Hiyawa; Que Kayalıdere, 802–3 Kayatani, 688, 697t Kaynarca, 880–81

1234

1234

Index

Kazuqinzani, 685t Kefkale, 812–14 Kelainai, 867–68, 874. See also Dinar Kelekli, 943–44, 949–50 Kemerhisar, 880, 921, 999–1000. See also Tuwana; Tyana Kenites, 1150–51 Kerend, 611 Kerkenes Dağ, 867–68, 874, 884–85, 898, 901–2, 903–4. See also Pteria Kerma, 28, 88–89, 94, 96, 99, 100 Kermanshah, 678, 808 Kerten, 136–37 Khabur River, 161–62, 179, 181–82, 185–86, 187–88, 194, 195–96, 202–3, 207–9, 211–12, 213–15, 222, 226–30, 241, 275, 358–59, 427–28, 491–92, 916–17, 924– 25, 927, 1174–75 Khabur triangle, 205–8, 211–12, 215–16 Khaldah, 1082 Khaliut, 137–38 Khartoum, 85–87, 90, 92, 137–38 Kheb, 136 Khensa, 114–15 Khirbet at-Tubeqa, 1133. See also Beth-Zur Khirbet Bant Bar, 1138–39. See also Zereda Khonsu, 5–6, 8–9, 14, 60–61, 62–63, 68–69, 71 Khorramabad, 594–96, 645–46 Khorsabad, 238–39, 299–301, 373, 403, 450, 470, 693, 888–90, 1048. See also Dur-Šarrukin

Khosr River, 183–84 Khufu, 11 Kiakki of Šinuhtu, 302, 876–78 Kidin-hutran, 629–30 Kidinnu, 551–53 Kidinuid, 618–19 Kikki, 272, 973 Kilambate, 697t Kilise Tepe, 922–23 Kilizu, 181–82, 201, 468, 485. See also Qasr Shamamok Kinaliya, 923–24. See also Kullania; Kunulua; Tell Tayinat Kindau, 712t. See also Kar-Sin Kinet Höyük, 922–23 Kingaraku, 697t Kınık Höyük, 921, 958, 999–1000. See also Niğde Kipšuna, 176 Kiririša, 604–5 Kirkuk, 203–4, 330–31, 395. See also Arraphe Kirrî of Tarsus, 272, 972 Kisasi. See Kišesim Kišesim, 302–3, 493, 678, 686, 689– 90, 697t, 701, 704–5, 709–10, 712t, 715–17, 723–24. See also Kar-Nergal Kišešlu, 712t. See also Kar-Nabû Kiš, 308–9, 534–35, 560–61, 571–72, 573–74 Kisilaha, 697t Kiṣir-Aššur, 325n.342 Kiski, 284 Kištan, 368–69, 793–94, 989 Kisuatni. See Kizzuwatna Kitakki, 697t

1235

Index Kition, 1032–33, 1045–46, 1081–82 Kitpat, 303–4 Kiyakki, 995–96 Kizzuwatna, 972 Kızıldağ, 920, 928–30, 996–98 Kızılırmak River, 867–68, 884–85, 921–22, 927–28. See also Halys River Kızkapanlı, 279–80, 281, 285, 364, 926–27, 988–89. See also Pazarcık Köhnüş, 890–91, 902–3 Kom Firin, 38–39 Kom Qala, 39–40 Konya Plain, 867–68, 869–70, 879– 80, 920–23, 927–28, 930–31, 938, 958, 996–98 Körkün, 977–78 Köröğlü Mountains, 920 Korosko Road, 87–88 Kor River, 592–93, 603–4 Korti, 136–37 Körzüt, 788–89 Kotur Mountains, 770 Kotyaeion, 867, 872. See also Kütahya Kubaba, 493–94, 901–2, 941–42, 943–44, 948–49, 978, 985–86 Kubbu, Mount, 965–66. See also Karacadağ Kuddakaka, 636–37 Kudur-Nahundu, 594n.16, 661n.348 Kudurru of Suhu, 227, 550 Kudurru (brother of king), 655 Kulamuwa of Sam’al, 964, 971–72, 974–75, 993, 1084–85 Kul-e Farah, 627, 630–31

1235

Kul-i Fir‘aun, 630–31 Kullania, 231, 294–95, 314–16, 354– 55, 357, 359, 378–79, 385, 386, 446, 466, 794, 923–24, 925–26, 935, 942, 955, 963–64, 975–77, 1184–85. See also Kinaliya; Kunulua; Tell Tayinat Kullimeri, 317–18, 321–22, 800–1 Kültepe, 921–22 Kululu, 921–22, 973, 998. See also Artulu Kulummeans, 308 Kumarbi, 956 Kumarma, 956 Kumme, 202–3, 205–7, 356–57, 795, 797–98, 822, 833, 844 Kummuh, 279–80, 285, 305–6, 364– 66, 368–70, 458, 793–95, 799, 803–4, 805–6, 838, 926–27, 964–66, 979–81, 986, 987–89, 990–91, 992–93, 994–95. See also Commagene Kundi/abhalê, 200 Kundu, 316–17, 1004, 1089–91 Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, 1047–48, 1163, 1165–66, 1171–72 Kunulua, 231, 294–95, 314–16, 378–79, 446, 923–24, 925–26, 934–35, 942, 955, 963–64, 975– 77. See also Kinaliya; Kullania; Tell Tayinat Kupapiya, 954, 1064–65 Kura-Araxes Basin, 770 Kurabli, 688, 697t Kurangun, 594n.15, 631n.187 Kurba’il, 481n.179 Kurdistan, 729–30

1236

1236

Index

Kurigalzu II, 573–74 Kurkh. See Üçtepe Kurluš, 629–30 Kurtî of Atuna, 302, 876–78, 880–81 Kurt Mountains, 924–25, 926–27. See also Kartal Mountains Kuruntiya, 927–28 Kush, 29–30, 82–85, 87, 88–94, 95–98, 99, 102, 103, 104–5, 106, 107–9, 110, 111–12, 114, 117–18, 120–21, 122–23, 124–28, 129–32, 133, 134–36, 138–39, 140–41, 143, 318, 320, 324–25, 379, 390, 397, 461. See also Meluhha Kuštašpi of Kummuh, 368, 369–70, 793–94 Kütahya, 867, 902–3. See also Kotyaeion Kutir-Nahhunte, 524–25 Kuyunjik, 183–84, 212–13, 648–54. See also Nineveh Kuzi-Teššub, 931, 932–33 Kybele, 901n.132. See also Matar Kybelon, 901   La (son of Lara), 989–90 Labarna, 932, 938, 961–63 Labrana, Mount, 970–71. See also Lebanon Mountains Labturu, 776–77 Lachish, 379–81, 1146, 1148–61, 1166–68, 1178–79, 1185–86, 1188–89 Lagamal, 551–53 Lahiru, 203–4, 468 Laka, 970–71. See also Laqê Lake Sevan, 789–90, 852

Lake Urmia, 191–92, 674–76, 680–81, 732–34, 736, 739–40, 742–43, 770, 775, 779–81, 792, 806–7, 810–11, 838, 848, 852 Lake Van, 168–69, 173–75, 187–88, 371, 770, 775, 776–77, 791, 794–95, 806, 812–13, 852 Lalla of Melid, 272 Laodicea, 1033 Lapethos, 1081–82 Laqê, 207–8, 226–29, 970–71. See also Laka Lara, 989–90 Larak, 483n.187 Larama, 957–58 Larama III, 989–90 Larnaca tis Lapithou, 1081–82 Larsa, 534–35 Lawazantiya, 972 Lebanon Mountains, 176–77, 271– 72, 474, 936–37, 970–71, 1061– 62. See also Mount Labrana Leontopolis, 25, 26–28, 49–50. See also Tell Muqdam Libbali. See Assur (city) Libbali-šarrat, 280n.111 Libliuni, 808. See also Seqindel Libu, 16–17, 41 Libur-munih-libbi-Aššur, 440–41 Libyan Desert, 88–89 Lidar Höyük, 926–27, 931, 932–33 Lindos, 888n.95 Lita-Aššur, 968. See also Nappigu Litani River, 1092, 1096–97 Locris, 969n.222 Lower Egypt, 3–4, 5–6, 7–8, 13–14, 22, 25–26, 30, 35, 50, 129, 318

1237

Index Lu’aš, 970. See also Luhuti; Nuhašše Lubarna, 231, 961–64, 961n.187, 966–67, 975–77. See also Suppiluliuma of Patin Lubdu, 203–4, 547–48. See also Tell Buldag Luhiuni, 788–89 Luhuti, 964, 970, 971–72. See also Lu’aš; Nuhašše Lulî of Sidon, 377–79, 1049, 1086, 1089, 1092, 1096 Lullubum, Lullumu, 174 Luristan, 645–46, 678, 691, 692, 714 Luša, 780–81, 789 Lusanda, 972 Lušia, 284 Lutibu, 359–61, 966–67. See also Yesemek Lutipri, 776–77, 779–80, 783t, 786 Luxor, 5–6, 12–13 Lycaonia, 867 Lycia, 867–68, 872–73 Lydia, 320, 456–57, 757–58, 816, 867–68, 872–73, 875, 886–87, 897–98n.124 Lygdamis, 758–59, 1004n.363. See also Tugdammî   Ma, 16–17 Ma’a-il, 497n.248 Ma’allanate, 483n.186, 490n.210 Maat, 66 Maatkara B, 16 Madahisa, 734 Madaktu, 660–61 Maden, 224–25, 240–41, 242–43. See also Amadanu Mountains

1237

Maganuba, 299–301, 403 Magdalu. See Dur-Katlimmu Magdubu of Madahisa, 734 Maggidû, 1089n.234. See also Megiddo Magians, 695–96 Mahalab, Mahalliba, 1095, 1096 Mahasun, 19 Makha, 140–41 Makirtu, 697t Malahu, 270–71 Malamir Plain, 594–96, 625–26, 627, 629–31, 633–34, 649–51 Malatya, 317, 921–23, 926–27, 931, 932–34, 936–38, 939, 943, 945– 47, 948, 958, 968–69, 985–86, 991, 992–93, 1006–7. See also Arslantepe; Malizi; Melid Malhina, 966n.209 Mali, 697t Maliktu, 498n.251 Malizi, 932–33, 946, 985–87, 991–92. See also Melid Mallanu, 224–25, 242–43 Malta, 1041–42, 1059–60 Mamitiaršu, 716–17 Mamli, 205–7 Mamu, 221, 232 Manana, 955–56 Manasseh, 1181–82 Manbij, 968. See also Nappigu Manetho, 23–24, 120–21, 122 Manisa, 887n.89 Mannea, 277–78, 284, 302–4, 321–22, 370, 371–76, 395, 397, 674–76, 681–82, 686, 729–36, 737–42, 743–52, 753, 754–56, 757, 760, 797, 807, 808–11

1238

1238

Index

Manṣuate, 284 Maraş. See Kahramanmaraş Marathos, 1070. See also Amrit; MRT Marbacheh, 596n.22 Mar-biti, 544–45 Mar-biti-ahhe-iddina, 545–46, 547–48 Mar-biti-apla-uṣur, 544–45 Mardin, 498n.251 Marduk, king of the Zarians, 644–45 Marduk, 309–10, 312–13, 385, 389, 406–7, 410, 440, 496, 527–30, 531, 540–41, 543, 558, 560, 566, 576–79, 626–27, 757, 759. See also Bel Marduk-ahhe-eriba, 536–37 Marduk-apla-iddina I, 573–74 Marduk-apla-iddina II (Merodachbaladan), 301–2, 305–6, 308–9, 372, 377–78, 406, 558, 560, 566, 568 Marduk-apla-uṣur of Anat, 969n.224 Marduk-apla-uṣur of Babylon, 556–57 Marduk-balassu-iqbi, 278, 553–55, 563–64, 566–67, 569–70, 578–79 Marduk-bel-usati, 550–53 Marduk-bel-zeri, 556 Marduk-kabit-ahhešu, 524–25 Marduk-mudammiq, 274 Marduk-nadin-ahhe, 177–79, 181– 82, 188–89, 525–26, 531–33 Marduk-šakin-šumi, 556–57

Marduk-šapik-zeri, 188–89, 532–34 Marduk-šarru-uṣur, 288–89 Marduk-zakir-šumi I, 274–75, 522, 550–54, 563–64 Marduk-zakir-šumi II, 308–9 Marduk-zera-ibni, 536–37 Mari, 180–82, 187–88, 924–25 Marina, 960–61. See also Burmarina; Tell Shiukh Fawqani Mariti, 958 Markazi, 679 Mar-larim, 495 Marqasu, 279–80, 304–5, 357, 491–92, 876–78, 922–23, 946, 957–58, 966–67, 989–90, 991– 92. See also Kahramanmaraş/ Maraş Marseilles, 1044 Ma’rubbu, 1092, 1096–97, 1101–2 Marun River, 629–30 Masa, 903–4 Masaharta, 7, 10 Masaqaharta, 17–18 Masaurhisa, 1002 Mašdakku of Amakki, 697t Mašdakku of Andirpattianu, 697t Mašdakku of Aratišta, 688, 701 Mašdayukku of Kingaraku, 697t Masharta, 17–18 Mashasun, 41 Masuwari, 924–25, 950–51. See also Kar-Shalmaneser; Tell Ahmar; Til Barsip Matar, 897–98, 899–902, 903–4. See also Kybele Mataya, 681. See also Media Matenni, 1095–96

1239

Index Mati‘-’el of Arpad, 288–89, 294, 368, 369–70, 793–94, 804, 984–85, 994–95 Matiyati, 273. See also Midyat Matmar, 38–39 Mattan-Ba‘al, 361–62, 1068–70 Mazamua, 174, 203–4, 210, 222, 223– 24, 225–26, 242–43, 274, 294, 354–55, 472, 478–79, 539–40, 682–83, 732–34, 752 Mazi-Karhuha, 932 Mazuwadi. See Masuwari Mazzine, 654–55 Medamud, 12–13 Meded, 140–41 Medes, 277–78, 284, 302–3, 330–33, 395–97, 413, 429, 486, 593–94, 602–3, 659–60, 661, 662–63, 674–76, 679–83, 684, 686, 689–90, 691, 692–93, 695, 696, 701, 702–3, 705–7, 708, 711, 713–15, 717–18, 719–23, 724–25, 726, 727–28, 729–30, 732–35, 737–38, 747–48, 760–61, 801, 816 Media, 303–4, 676–79, 680, 681–82, 683, 684–86, 689–90, 692, 693, 696–701, 704–6, 708–9, 710–11, 713, 714–15, 716, 719– 21, 722–23, 724–25, 727–29, 735, 737–38, 742, 755. See also Amadaya Medinet Habu, 24–25, 36–38, 48– 49, 66, 70–71 Mediterranean Sea, 82–83, 122–23, 128–29, 161–62, 172–73, 176– 77, 205–7, 222, 224–25, 230–32,

1239

233–36, 237, 242–44, 257–59, 284, 294, 354–55, 357, 359–61, 378–79, 400–1, 427–28, 757, 804, 922–23, 933–34, 981, 982– 83, 1007, 1027–31, 1032–34, 1035–36, 1039–42, 1045–47, 1048, 1053, 1058, 1061–62, 1063–64, 1066–69, 1072, 1080, 1083–85, 1087–88, 1093, 1094, 1097, 1100, 1101–2, 1145 Medydyt, 51 Megiddo, 295, 1071, 1088–89, 1099– 100, 1122–23, 1133–34, 1136–37, 1138–39, 1152–54, 1163–64, 1169, 1174, 1186–87. See also Maggidû Meharde, 954, 955–56 Meheila Road, 87–88 Meher Kapısı, 829–30, 832. See also Mheri Dur Mehru, 202–3 Me’isu, 497n.248 Mekhu. See Makha Melartua, 783t Melendiz mountains, 921 Melendiz River, 996–98 Melid, 174–75, 272, 304–6, 316, 317, 356–57, 368, 369–70, 376–77, 791–92, 793–94, 802–6, 813– 14, 876–78, 922–23, 926–27, 936–37, 939, 964–65, 968–69, 973, 978–79, 985–86, 990–93, 998. See also Arslantepe; Malatya; Malizi Meli-Šipak, 573–74 Melqart, 983–84, 1041–42, 1047, 1050–51, 1070, 1083–85, 1099

1240

1240

Index

Meluhha, 324–25, 379, 390. See also Kush Memphis, 11–12, 14, 19, 23–24, 30, 31–32, 37–40, 112, 120, 121–22, 126–29, 131–32, 318, 320, 458n.97, 459–60 Menahem, 478n.165, 1173–74 Menander of Ephesus, 1060, 1083 Mendes, 5–6 Menkheperra, 7, 8–10, 12–13, 40–41 Merenptah, 39–40, 45–46, 934–35, 1121, 1142–43 Mermnad, 867–68 Merodach-baladan. See Mardukapla-iddina II Meroe, 83–84, 87–88, 89–91, 94, 98, 100, 119–20, 132, 133, 134, 140–41, 143–44 Merowe Sheriq, 136–37 Mersin−Soli Höyük, 922–23 Mersin−Yumuktepe, 922–23 Merzumen, 926–27 Mesa, 681 Mesha of Moab, 1078–80, 1121, 1127–28, 1142–43, 1157, 1172–73 Meshech. See Muški Meshwesh, 16–17, 41 Messi, 678, 680, 734–35 Mešta, 736 Mesu, 277–78, 735 Me-Turnat, 205, 482. See also Tell Haddad Mheri Dur, 829–30, 832. See also Meher Kapısı Miam, 97n.53. See also Aniba Midas of Phrygia, 302, 376–77, 865– 67, 869, 874, 875–81, 886–88,

897–98, 899–900, 987, 1007. See also Mita of Muški Midas City, 867, 890–91, 898–99. See also Midas Şehri Midas Monument, 899–900 Midas Şehri, 867, 898–99. See also Midas City Midyat, 966n.209. See also Matiyati Mihos, 63 Mila Mergi, 292–93, 370. See also Illimmeru, Mount Milidia, Miliṭia. See Melid Milkî, 497n.247 Milki-nuri, 497n.247 Milk-yasap (Milki-ašapa), 1081 Milqia, 748–49. See also Ankawa Min, 52–53 Minua, 736, 780–86, 783t, 787–89, 791–92, 802–3, 806–7, 816, 823–24, 829–31, 834, 837–38, 845, 849–50, 851–52 Mira, 897–98n.124 Misis, 922–23, 972. See also Pahri Misis Mountains, 922–23 Mišita, 685t Missi, 372–73, 374–75, 734–35, 738–40, 742 Missiminia, 93n.31, 103, 132–33 Mita of Muški, 302–3, 304–6, 376–77, 869, 874, 875–76, 987, 989–90, 991–92, 995, 999–1001, 1007. See also Midas of Phrygia Mitatti of Zikirtu, 302, 372–73, 374–75, 739–40, 742–43 Mithra, 707–8, 829–30 Mitraku, 685t, 696, 707–8

124

Index Mittani, 205–7, 257–59, 428–29, 823, 845, 936–37, 1115–17, 1126 Mizpah, 1146–47, 1189 Moab, 322–23, 382, 1078–80, 1127– 28, 1136–37, 1157–58, 1171–73, 1175–76 Mongol, 761 Montu, 62–63 Montuemhat, 49, 70 Montu-Horakhty, 62–63 Mopsos, 936, 994n.323 Morocco, 1045–46, 1100 Moschoi. See Muški MRT, 1070. See also Amrit; Marathos Mugallu of Melid, 317, 321, 757, 758, 992–93, 1004 Mukin-zeri. See Nabû-mukin-zeri Muli, Mount, 972–73 Mullissu, 385, 390, 404 Mullissu-mukannišat-Ninua, 236–37 Mulugani, 683 Munna. See Mannea Munziganni, Mount, 954n.156, 963–64. See also Muzik Muquru, 205–7 Murad Su, 804–5. See also Arṣania River Murattaš, 174 Mursili (father of Hartapu), 929–30 Mursili III, 927–28. See also Urhi-Teššub Muṣaṣir, 273–74, 303–5, 356–57, 732–34, 775, 779–80, 781, 795–97, 798, 808–9, 844 Mušezib-Marduk of Babylon, 309–10 Mušezib-Ninurta, 241–42

1241

Muska. See Muški Muški, 302–3, 304–6, 376–77, 773– 74, 776–77, 868–69, 929–30, 938, 987, 989–90, 991–92, 995, 999–1000, 1007. See also Phrygia Muškini. See Muški Muṣri, Mount, 403. See also Jebel Bashiqa Muṣru, 173, 176, 200. See also Jebel Maqlub Mussi of Tabal, 758–59 Mut, 60–61, 62–63, 66–67, 68–69, 71, 114–15, 126–27, 135 Mutallu. See Muwatalli Mutarriṣ-Aššur, 277–78 Mutemope, 68 Mutkinu, 185–86, 194. See also Tell Abir Mutnedjmet, 45–46 Muwaharani, 1001–2 Muwatalli (Mutallu) of Gurgum, 304–5, 968–69, 989–90 Muwatalli (Mutallu) of Kummuh, 305–6, 990–92 Muwizi, 969n.222 Muzik, 953–54, 963–64. See also Munziganni Mycenaean, 934–35 Mysia, 870–71   Nabayatean, 322–23 Nabonassar, 560–64 Nabonidus, 326, 530–31, 558–59, 726, 1005 Nabopolassar, 326, 329, 330–33, 394–97, 412, 556–57, 662, 723, 725–26, 754, 756, 1063. See also Belesys

124

1242

Index

Nabû, 237–38, 280–81, 385, 431–32, 488, 494–95, 496, 498, 531, 559–60, 568–69, 570–71, 681n.7, 712t, 1000–1 Nabû-apla-iddina, 227, 274–75, 534–35, 548–53, 570–71 Nabû-bel-šumati, 391, 394 Nabû-mar-šarri-uṣur, 264n.24 Nabû-mukin-apli, 522, 535–36, 545–47 Nabû-mukin-zeri of Babylon, 295 Nabû-mukin-zeri (an official), 564–65 Nabû-nadin-zeri, 563–64 Nabû-rehtu-uṣur, 327 Nabû-šallim, 328n.357 Nabû-šallimšunu, 798 Nabû-šarru-uṣur (chief eunuch), 263n.23 Nabû-šarru-uṣur (palace scribe), 263n.23 Nabû-šuma-imbi, 559–60, 578–79 Nabû-šuma-iškun, 548–49, 558–60, 561–62 Nabû-šuma-ukin I, 205, 548, 550 Nabû-šuma-ukin II, 563–64 Nabû-šumu-libur, 536–39 Nadab, 1139–40 Nahitiya, 999–1000, 1001–2. See also Niğde Nahlasi, 982–83 Nahr el-Abrash, 1072 Nahr el-Amarna, 925–26 Na’id-ilu, 215–16 Nairi, 173, 174–76, 202–3, 210–11, 222–23, 240–41, 273, 277–78, 284, 354–55, 770–72, 774–75, 777–79, 780–81, 936–37 Najafabad, 686, 689 Nal, Mount, 294–95, 370, 794. See also Yassıdağı

Nalaini, 831–32 Namma, 531 Namri, 274, 284, 288–89, 527–29, 569–70, 593–94, 662–63, 678, 681–83, 732–34, 807 Nanaya, 558–59 Nanše, 531 Naparaye, 129–30 Napata, 28–29, 83–84, 87–88, 89– 90, 92, 98–99, 102, 110, 112, 120, 126–28, 131–32, 134–35, 136–37, 138, 140–41, 144 Napî, 497n.248 Napiriša, 604–5, 618–19 Nappi, 697t Nappigu, 968. See also Lita-Aššur; Manbij Naqi’a, 306, 312, 319, 387–89, 470, 473. See also Zakutu Naqš-e Rustam, 594n.15, 631n.187 Nartu, 690, 697t, 701–2, 716–17 Nasalsa, 134–35 Našhu, Našuh. See Nusku Naṣibina, 205–7, 211–12, 215–16, 216n.283, 331–32, 468, 809–10. See also Nusaybin Nastasen, 140–41 Natnu, 322–23 Naziniri, 752 Nebarti-Aššur, 227–29, 242–43 Nebat, 1138–39 Nebi Yunus, 307–8, 402, 460–61 Nebuchadnezzar I, 524–32, 534–35, 540–41, 544, 547–48, 570–71, 573–74, 575, 576–78, 588, 602, 604–5 Nebuchadnezzar II, 326, 335–36, 412, 662, 727, 1063, 1081, 1091–92, 1098, 1187–88

1243

Index Negev, 477, 1047–48, 1145–46, 1153–54 Nekau I, 32–34 Nekau II, 397, 1186–87 Nemed-Tukulti-Ninurta, 212–13 Nemetti-šarri, 278 Nephthys, 124, 1053 Nergal, 385, 689–90, 712t Nergal-apil-kumu’a, 221, 238–39, 240–41 Nergal-ereš, 229n.334, 281–82, 290, 335, 363–64 Nergal-ila’i, 363–64, 681–82 Nergal-ušezib of Babylon, 257–59 Neriglissar of Babylon, 1005 Nesamenemope, 68 Nesy, 19 Ni(?)nuwi, 953–54 Nibe, 305–6 Niğde, 921, 958, 999–1000, 1001–2. See also Kınık Höyük; Nahitiya Nih(i)ria, 804 Nikdera, 274 Nikisi, 685t Nikkal, 489n.207, 490–91 Nile River, 3–4, 30–31, 32–34, 41–43, 82, 84, 85–89, 96, 100–1, 103, 104–2, 119, 127–28, 129–30, 136–37, 143, 461, 492–93 Blue Nile, 85–87, 90, 137–38 cataracts, 85–87 Cataract, First, 28 Cataract, Second, 28, 92–93, 100–1, 105–6, 107 Cataract, Third, 87, 94, 103 Cataract, Fourth, 28, 87–88, 93n.30, 95, 98, 104–5, 114–15 Cataract, Fifth, 127–28, 139

1243

delta, 5–6, 27–28, 30, 41, 122, 1034, 1039 valley, 84, 92, 93, 95, 117, 460–61 White Nile, 85–87, 90 Yellow Nile, 87–88 Nimlot of Hermopolis, 112 Nimlot (son of Osorkon II), 23–24 Nimlot (son of Sheshonq I), 19 Nimme, 225 Nimrud, 117–18, 217–18, 219–20, 262, 269–70, 432, 536–37, 550–51, 964–65, 970, 1053. See also Kalhu Nimshi, 1140–41 Nimuš, Mount, 225–26. See also Pir-a Magrun Ninagal, 401 Nineveh, 128–29, 168–71, 173, 181–82, 183–84, 185–86, 187, 189–90, 191–92, 193–94, 201–2, 205–7, 208–9, 210–11, 212–13, 218–20, 221, 226–27, 231–33, 238–39, 244–45, 257–59, 262– 64, 278, 281–82, 299–301, 307– 8, 310–12, 318–19, 320, 321–22, 329–32, 334–35, 355, 377, 382, 385–86, 392, 395–97, 402, 403–4, 413, 427–28, 429–30, 431–32, 433–34, 443, 445–46, 458, 460–62, 466, 468, 477– 78, 481, 491–93, 494–95, 497, 498, 634, 638–39, 647, 648–55, 656–58, 659–60, 661, 717–18, 719–20, 722–23, 724–26, 746, 754, 755–56, 801–2, 1004, 1049, 1063, 1069–70, 1086, 1091, 1096, 1097, 1178–79. See also Kuyunjik Ninuayu, 168–69, 176–79

124

1244

Index

Ninurta, 218–19, 237–38, 355–56, 385, 404, 488 Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur I, 543–44, 545–47 Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur II, 545–46, 547–48 Ninurta-nadin-šumi, 524–25, 526, 532–33 Nippur, 328–29, 522–23, 530–31, 534–35, 536–39, 540–41, 546– 47, 551–53, 554, 560–62, 564, 570–74, 577–79 Nipur, Mount, 309 Nirbu, 222–23, 770–72, 773–77 Nirdun, 222–24, 776–77 Nitocris, 65 Noba, 84 Nuba, 140–41 Nubian Desert, 87–89 Nuhašše, 964. See also Lu’aš; Luhuti Nur-Adad, 205–7, 225–26 Nuri, 32, 49–50, 87, 90–91, 100, 129–30, 133, 134, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142–43, 144 Nusaybin, 205–7, 331–32. See also Naṣibina Nusku, 385, 490–91 Nut, 53–54   Obruk plateau, 921 Ogdoad, 36–37 Oluz Höyük, 922n.30 Olympia, 1032, 1044 Omri, 271–72, 1120, 1140–41, 1142– 43, 1155, 1159–60 Omrids, 1121, 1136–39, 1140–43, 1146–47, 1149–50, 1152,

1154–55, 1157, 1159–60, 1161–62, 1169, 1172–73 Ophel, 1170, 1188–89 Ophir, 1094 Opis, 546–47 Orontes River, 231, 282–84, 361–62, 378–79, 445, 794, 923–25, 954, 964–65, 966–67, 968, 969, 970–71, 979, 982–83, 1006–7, 1034–35, 1062, 1065–66, 1072, 1184–85 Osireion, 129–30 Osiris, 52–53, 66, 68–69, 110–11, 123–24, 129–30, 133–34 Osiris-Lord-of-Life, 66 Osiris-Ruler-of-Eternity, 66–67 Osiris-Wennefer-in-the-Persea-Tree, 66, 70 Osiris-Who-Gives-Life, 66 Osorkon I, 16, 19–22, 23–24, 40–41, 55, 106, 1076–78 Osorkon II, 5–6, 10–11, 12, 23–25, 39, 44–45, 63, 1071n.158 Osorkon III, 25, 26, 27–28, 29–30, 65, 66. See also Prince Osorkon Osorkon IV, 25, 26–27 Osorkon the Elder, 13–14, 16 Ova Ören, 921–22 Oylum Höyük, 924–25, 963–64   P/Buštu, 736n.143 Pabatma, 110–11 Pada, 495 Paddira, 321–22, 734, 752 Padî of Ekron, 308–9, 378, 379–81 Padiese A, 23–24 Pa’ê, 659

1245

Index Pahri, 972. See also Misis Pakute, 168–69, 177–79, 185–86. See also Tell Basmusiyan Palalam, 364–65 Palestine, 14, 284 Palil-ereš. See Nergal-ereš Palmyra, 180. See also Tadmur Palu, 837–38 Pan, 897–98 Panamuwa I (Panammû), 993 Panamuwa II, 993 Panamuwati, 988–89 Panehsy, 6–7, 97–98 Panziš, 742–43 Papanha, 174n.54 Papas, 901n.134 Paphlagonia, 867 Paphu, 173–74 Paqarahubuni, 364–65, 966–67 Paraitakene, 717–18 Paralani, 803 Parda, 739–40, 742–43 Paretakenians, 695–96 Parihi, 321–22, 696, 719–20 Parkuku, 697t Parnaldê, 459 Parnuatti, 691 Paroyr, 816–17 Parsa (Parsu). See Persis Parsua, Parsuaš, 274, 277–78, 294–95, 302–4, 593–94, 678, 679–80, 682–83, 685t, 706, 732–34, 748–49, 781 Paršuai, 736 Parsumaš, 748–49 Partakanu, 697t Partakka, 717–18

1245

Partatua, 749–50 Partukka, 717–18 Par(u)martiš, 727–28. See also Fravartiš; Phraortes Parurasu, 697t Parzutean, 995–98 Pasenhor, 11 Patamû, 447 Patin, 231, 242–43, 294–95, 354–55, 356–57, 359–61, 794, 923–24, 960–65, 966–68, 970, 971–72, 975–79, 981, 982–84, 985, 1006–7, 1065–66, 1184–85. See also Amuq Plain; Falastin; Unqi Pattaššun, Mount, 688 Patušarri, 715–16 Pausanias, 867 Payukku, 697t Pazarcık, 279–80, 364, 926–27, 979–81, 988–89, 994–95. See also Kızkapanlı Pazaši. See Panziš Pedubast I, 24–26 Pedubast II, 26–27 Peftjauawybast, 23–24, 27 Pekah, 1173–74 Pekahiah, 1173–74 Pekereslo, 115–17 Peksater, 124–26 Peleset. See Pulasti Penuel, 1138–39, 1148 Persepolis, 139, 615–16, 639 Persia, 336, 413, 661, 727, 755. See also Parsa; Persis Persis, 592–93. See also Parsa; Persia Pessinus, 902–3 Philae, 126–27

1246

1246

Index

Philistia, 122–23, 294–95, 379, 1044– 45, 1176–78 Philo of Byblos, 1043 Philostratus, 1098n.279 Phoenicia, 464–66, 1033–35, 1057– 58, 1063–64, 1101–2, 1155–56, 1176–78. See also Canaan Phraortes, 722, 723, 724t, 727–28. See also Fravartiš; Par(u)martiš Phrygia, 302, 376–77, 813–14, 816, 865–69, 872, 874–76, 879–81, 886–87, 891–93, 894, 897, 899–900, 973–74, 987, 1007. See also Muški Piankhy (High Priest of Amun), 6–7 Piankhy of Kush, 30–31, 40–41, 49–50, 65, 100, 110, 111, 112–21, 123–26, 137–38, 143 Pihirim of Hilakku, 359–61 Pimay I, 25, 26, 27 Pimay II, 26–27 Pinudjem I, 5–6, 7–10, 15, 47–48, 68–69 Pinudjem II, 7, 12–14, 15, 47, 68–69 Pipi B, 14 Pir-a Magrun, 225–26. See also Nimuš, Mount Piramesses, 10–11, 40 Pirindu, 1005. See also Hilakku Pisidia, 867 Pisiri. See Piyassili Pitru, 185–86, 194, 924–25. See also Tell Aushariye Piyassili (Pisiri) of Carchemish, 302, 876–78, 879–80, 986–87, 999 Plain Cilicia, 356, 953–54, 964, 966– 67, 971–72, 993–94, 998–99,

1002–3. See also Hiyawa; Hume; Que Pleiades, 831–32. See also Sebetti Pliny the Elder, 89n.14 Pnubs, 126–27, 131–32, 134, 138, 140–41 Pontus Mountains, 770, 787, 920 Pornak, 224. See also Sinabu Porsuk, 921, 999–1000, 1002. See also Tynna; Zeyve Höyük Porsuk River, 920 Portugal, 1045–46 Prince Osorkon, 12, 24–25, 26, 27–28. See also Osorkon III Psamtek I, 32–34, 65, 129, 397, 757–58 Psamtek II, 138–39 Pseudo-Scylax, 1070 Psusennes I, 10–15, 19–22, 44–46 Psusennes II, 7, 11–12, 15–16, 45–46. See also Psusennes III Psusennes III, 7, 15–16. See also Psusennes II Psusennes IV, 15n.38 Ptah, 11–12, 14, 19, 22, 23–24, 27, 31, 38–40, 52–53, 121–22 Ptahemakhet B, 11–12 Ptah-Sokar-Osiris, 50, 54–55 Pteria, 885. See also Kerkenes Dağ Ptolemy, 139–40 PUGNUS-mili, 932–33 PUGNUS-mili II, 932–33, 946–47, 991 Puhame of Hupušna, 973 Pulasti, 934–35, 936 Pulua, 799 Puluadi, 808

1247

Index Purulumzi, 173–74 Pyramos, 922–23. See also Ceyhan River   Qadboun, 1044, 1050–51 Qadesh, 445n.56, 930n.70 Qadhiah, 212–13 Qainaru, 813–14 Qaladze. See Anisu(s) Qalaichi Tepe, 730. See also Haidar Khan Qal’e Qalatgah, 806–7 Qal‘eh Kamana, 823–24 Qalhata, 124, 131–32 Qalparuda/Qalparunda. See Halparuntiya Qantau, 697t Qara Dagh, 225–26 Qara Zia’eddin, 812–13 Qarkasia, 689, 697t, 716–17. See also Kar-Kašši Qarkinšera, 685t Qarnina, 295. See also Gilead Qarqar, 271–72, 361–63, 445, 476, 964, 968, 1062, 1064–65, 1068, 1071, 1073, 1078–80, 1087–88, 1103. See also Tell Qarqur Qar-rapi’, 498n.251 Qasr-e Shirin, 678 Qasr Ibrim, 105–6, 106n.91, 127–28 Qasr Shamamok, 181–82. See also Kilizu Qatazili. See Hattusili Qatna, 445n.56, 924–25 Qaṭnu, 195–96, 207–8. See also Qaṭṭuna Qaṭṭuna, 187–88, 195–96. See also Qaṭnu

1247

Qazvin, 679 Qedar, 477 Qipanu, 224–25 Qirbit, 320 Qode, 934n.89 Qom, 679 Qomoloye, 102 Quduna, 824–25 Que, 270–71, 272, 297, 302–3, 305–6, 359–61, 805–6, 875–78, 921–22, 953–54, 955–56, 963, 964, 966–67, 971–72, 979, 993–95, 998–1000, 1005, 1007, 1096. See also Cilicia; Hiyawa; Hume; Plain Cilicia Queiq, 924–25, 985 Quera, 831–32 Qulha, 790. See also Colchis Qumaha. See Kummuh Qumanu, 173, 176, 202–3 Qumasi, 876–78 Qus, 12–13 Qutubili, 824–25 Qutume, 791   Rabbilu, 560–61 Radanu, 177–78, 198–200. See also Adhaim River Rahianu. See Rezin Rahilu, 330–31 Rahimi-Dadi, 498n.251 Ra-Horakhty, 53, 55–56 Ra’ima, 280n.111, 298, 306 Rama/eti, 701–2 Ramadani, 716 Ramanda, 688, 697t Ramataya of Kazuqinzani, 685t

1248

1248

Index

Ramataya of Urakazabarnu, 717–18 Ramat Raḥel, 1182, 1189 Rameses II, 7–8, 11–12, 16–17, 38–39, 97–98, 445n.56 Rameses III, 7–8, 36–37, 48–49, 70–71, 934–35, 936 Rameses VI, 64–65 Rameses XI, 1, 15–16, 64–65, 97–98, 176–77 Ramesseum, 48–49 Ram Hormoz, 594–96, 627, 629–30, 633–34 Rammanû, 498n.251 Ramoth-Gilead, 1156–57, 1159–60, 1171 Raniya, 748n.184. See also Harrania Raniya Plain, 168–69, 185–86 Rapiqu, 180 Raqammatu, 205–7. See also Gidara Rašap, 1042 Raṣappa, 281–82, 363–64, 971 Rayadišadî, 752 Razidatu, 688 Razištu of Bustus, 688, 697t Red Sea, 134, 387, 1047–48, 1094 Rehoboam, 18–19, 1154 Rehreh, 140–41 Remaliah, 1173–74 Rephaim valley, 1182, 1189 Resheph. See Rašap Resul Osman Dağ, 963–64 Rezin (Rahianu) of Damascus, 1095, 1173–74 Rhodes, 888n.95 Rhosus. See Arsuz Rib-Hadda of Byblos, 1066–67 Rimanuti, 691

Riyar, 823–24 Rough Cilicia, 309, 321, 359–61, 922–23, 946n.129, 967–68, 969, 999, 1002–3, 1007. See also Hilakku; Pirindu Rowanduz, 225 Rua, Mount, 683–84 Rubu’eans, 479 Rudamu of Hamath, 969 Rudamun, 25, 26 Ruggulitu, 332–33 Rukibtu, 379 Runtiya, 932–33, 946, 991–92 Ruqahu, 198–200 Rusahinili-Eidurukai, 790, 806, 812–14, 841. See also Ayanis Rusahinili-Qilbanikai, 814, 827. See also Toprakkale Rusai-URU.TUR, 812–13, 848. See also Bastam Rusapu, 331–32 Rusa son of Sarduri, of Urartu, 302– 5, 371–75, 376–77, 439–40, 738–39, 740–41, 742–43, 782, 783t, 785–86, 790, 795–99, 810–11, 815–16, 838, 844–45, 846, 850–51 Rusa son of Argišti, of Urartu, 783t, 785–86, 799, 800–2, 804–5, 806, 808–9, 811–15, 816, 817–18, 819, 839, 875–76 Rusa son of Erimena, of Urartu, 783t, 785–86 Rusa son of Rusa, of Urartu, 783t, 785–86 Ruwa, 996n.333 Ruwata, 995–96

1249

Index Sa’-aqaba, 497n.246 Saba, 410–11 Saba’a, 281–82 Sabiru, 498n.251 Sadbat, 685t Šadditu, 306 Šadikanni, 194, 195–97, 241–42, 276–77. See also Tell Ajaja Šagaputara, 816–17 Sagartia, 727–28, 755, 756. See also Zikirtu Sagbita, 681 Sahand, Mount, 739–40, 807. See also Uauš, Mount Sahara Desert, 88–89 Sahi, 696, 719–20 Sahritu, 539–40 Šahu, 991–92 Šahuppa, 243 Sahwi, 991–92 Sai Island, 103, 106n.91 Sais, 27–28, 30, 32, 129, 133, 757–58, 1181–82 Sajur, 924–26 Saka, 688, 697t Sakarya River, 867, 881, 920. See also Sangarios River Sakçagözü, 926–27, 966–67 Sakipšunu, 182n.105 Šala, 177–78 Salmanu, 281–82 Sam’al, 31–32, 297, 359–61, 387–89, 466, 491–92, 883, 923–24, 926– 27, 952, 957–58, 964, 966–67, 971–72, 974–77, 978–79, 993, 1007, 1047, 1059, 1083–84. See also Bit-Gabbari; Zincirlı

1249

Samandağ mountain, 955–56 Samaria, 294–95, 297, 301–3, 372, 378–79, 464–66, 483–85, 1038, 1053, 1088–89, 1094, 1099–100, 1129–30, 1133–39, 1141, 1142–45, 1146–47, 1148, 1149–50, 1152, 1154–55, 1158, 1165, 1168, 1171– 72, 1174–75 S(a)mar(i)ka, 949–50, 965–66. See also Išmerikka; Siverek Samarian Hills, 1129–30, 1133–36, 1138–39, 1140–41, 1143–45, 1146–47, 1158, 1174 Samarra, 178–79. See also Gurmarritu; Sur-marrati Šamaš, 231–32, 331–32, 385, 404, 408–9, 440, 485–86, 488, 534–35, 537–39, 540–42, 543, 548–49, 570–71, 573–74, 715, 717, 815–16, 1000–1 Šamaš-ibni, 328 Šamaš-metu-uballiṭ, 313–14 Šamaš-mudammiq, 203–4, 547–48 Šamaš-šumu-ukin (Šamaš-šuma-ukin), 313–14, 318, 322–23, 324–26, 333–34, 383–84, 386, 387–91, 392, 412, 413, 559–60, 718 Samati, 645–47 Sammu-ramat, 278–82, 363–66, 979–81, 988–89. See also Semiramis Samnuha, 195–96 Samos, 466n.122 Samosata, 926–27. See also Samsat Höyük Samri, 922–23. See also Saros; Seyhan River

1250

1250

Index

Samsat Höyük, 926–27. See also Samosata Samsî of the Qedarites, 476 Šamši-Adad I. See Samsi-Addu Šamši-Adad IV, 189–90, 191, 192, 536 Šamši-Adad V, 204n.216, 270–71, 275–77–, 279–80, 363–65, 553– 56, 566–67, 569–70, 680–82, 696, 734–35, 974, 979–81 Samsi-Addu, 428n.6 Šamši-ilu, 282–84, 285, 290, 291, 335, 363–64, 479, 791–92, 982–83, 988–89, 1161–62 Samsimuruna, 382, 1034–35 Samuel, 1115, 1117, 1120–21, 1130, 1147–48, 1149–50, 1151–52, 1168, 1172–73, 1180–81, 1185–86 Sam’una, 655–57 Samunu, 592–657 Sanam, 87, 90, 94–95, 104, 113–14, 115–17, 126–27, 128, 132, 134, 135–37, 139 Sanandaj, 713n.78 Sanchuniaton, 1043 Sandakurru (Sandakšatru), 724–25, 759 Sandašarme of Hilakku, 321, 757, 1004 Sandawarri, 316–17, 1004, 1089–91 Sanduarri. See Sandawarri Sangara of Carchemish, 230, 359–61, 400–1, 943, 960–61, 967–68, 977–78 Sangarios River, 867, 881, 901–2. See also Sakarya River Šangû-Sippar, 573–74 Santaš, 832 Sapalulme. See Suppiluliuma

Šaparda, 684, 685t, 688, 690, 701–2, 708–9, 716–17, 723–24 Sapaziti, 943, 945 Šapazza, 560–61 Ša-pi-Bel, 322 Sapisi, 954n.157 Šapiya, 564–65 Sappaya, 541–42 Suppiluliuma (Sapalulme) of Patin, 279–80, 359–61, 365–66, 931, 955–57, 961–63, 964, 971–72, 988–89 Saqqara, 11, 27, 39, 50 Saqqez, 730–32, 741 Saradauš, 174 Saraku, 215 Sardanapalus, 413, 722–23, 816–17. See also Ashurbanipal Sardasht, 210, 732–34 Sardinia, 1027–30, 1042, 1045–46 Sardis, 875, 887n.89 Sardurihinili, 819, 840–41. See also Çavuştepe; Haykaberd Sardurihurda, 851–52 Sarduri son of Argišti, of Urartu, 288–89, 294, 366, 367–69, 370, 371–72, 736, 737–38, 782, 783t, 785–86, 789–90, 793–97, 803–5, 808, 811–12, 815, 823–24, 837–38, 846, 849–51, 984–85, 989, 991–92 Sarduri son of Lutipri, of Urartu, 273, 776–80, 783t, 785–86, 832 Sarduri son of Rusa, of Urartu, 783t, 785–86, 801–2, 818 Sarduri son of Sarduri, of Urartu, 783t, 785–86

125

Index Sarepta, 1037, 1039–41, 1042, 1043, 1086n.219, 1092, 1096–97, 1101–2 Sargon I, 299 Sargon II, 122–23, 190, 238–39, 242– 43, 259–60, 261–62, 286–87, 292, 295–307, 308–9, 371–73, 375–78, 398–400, 401, 402–4, 406–7, 432, 439, 443, 447, 449–50, 454–57, 470, 472, 475, 476, 477, 478–79, 480, 482, 483–85, 490–91, 493, 494–95, 500, 544–45, 568, 609–11, 655– 56, 685–86, 689–91, 692–93, 695, 696–702, 703, 705, 706, 711–12, 712t, 714, 715–17, 724t, 740–44, 746, 755–56, 783t, 786, 795–97, 798, 799, 804–6, 809, 823–24, 827, 833–34, 838, 846, 847, 848, 851–52, 875–78, 879–80, 921–22, 929–30, 960– 61, 985–86, 987, 989–93, 995, 998–1000, 1001, 1004, 1048, 1069–70, 1096, 1175–78 Sargon of Akkad, 299 Šarî, 498n.251 Saros River, 922–23. See also Samri; Seyhan River Sarrati, 321–22, 696, 719–20 Šarrat-Kidmuri, 385. See also Belet-Kidmuri Šarrat-niphi, 237–38 Šarru-emuranni, 827 Šarru-iqbi, 752 Šarru-lu-dari, 379 Sarruti, 697t Saruwani, 1001–2

1251

Šašgana, 734 Sasi, 803–4 Šašilu, 787 Sastura, 985, 986–87 Šataqupi, 685t, 696 Satarbanu of Barikanu, 688 Satarešu of Bit-Bari, 697t Satarešu of Nartu, 697t Satarpanu, 697t Šatašpa of Šaparda, 684, 685t, 708–9 Satu Qala, 181–82, 196–97. See also Idu Saul, 1147–52 Savur, 224. See also Šura Sazabû, 925–26, 967–68. See also Tell al-Qana Scythians, 722, 744, 747–50, 811–12, 816–17, 851–52 Se’, 489n.207. See also Sehr; Sin Sea Peoples, 28, 934–35, 1034–35, 1099–100 Sealand, 305–6, 324–25, 390–91, 394, 531, 532–33, 537–40, 542, 557, 560, 566, 569, 571 Šebeteria, 802–3 Sebetti, 831–32. See also Pleiades Sedeinga, 126–27 Seduru, 772–74, 775, 776–79, 783t Sehr, 489n.207. See also Se’; Sin Ṣelâ, 481 Šelardi, 831–32 Seleucus I, 558–59 Selinas, 872 Semiramis, 278–79, 291, 363–64, 786, 853. See also Sammu-ramat Semna, 100–1, 107, 126–27 Seni, 174–75

125

1252

Index

Senkamanisken, 133–34 Sennacherib, 31–32, 122–23, 128–29, 177–78, 259–60, 261, 298, 301, 306–13, 323, 376–83, 389, 402, 407–8, 410, 411, 431–32, 443, 444, 449–50, 453, 459–60, 474, 483–85, 488, 531–32, 609–11, 652–54, 662–63, 712t, 714–15, 746–48, 783t, 799–800, 808–9, 810, 1001, 1002–3, 1004, 1049, 1062–63, 1069–70, 1072–73, 1081, 1086, 1089–91, 1092, 1096–97, 1176–82, 1183–84 Seqindel, 808. See also Libliuni Serapeum, 11, 27, 39 Šerua-eṭirat, 313–14, 319 Sesebi, 106n.91 Seth, 38–39 Setini, 851 Setne, 35–36 Seville, 1039–41, 1053–55, 1083–84 Seyhan River, 922–23. See also Saros; Samri Shabaqo, 30–31, 49–50, 90–91, 120–26, 131–32 Shabataqo, 30–31, 49–50, 90–91, 120–22, 123–26 Shabitqo. See Shabataqo Shahrizor Plain, 174, 203–4, 225–26, 478–79, 539–40, 682–83 Shai, 16–17 Shallum, 1173–74 Shalmaneser I, 194, 222–23, 770–72 Shalmaneser II, 186, 192–93, 194, 198–200, 222–23, 244 Shalmaneser III, 174–75, 185–86, 194, 217–18, 221, 224–25,

239–40, 241–42, 243–44, 259–61, 264–65, 266, 269–77, 278, 280–81, 290, 358–61, 362–65, 398, 445, 449–50, 476, 550–54, 555, 566–67, 679–81, 734, 755–56, 772–73, 775, 783t, 956–57, 961–63, 964, 966–69, 970, 971–73, 974, 975–77, 981, 999, 1062, 1064–65, 1068, 1071, 1073, 1078–80, 1085, 1087–88, 1095, 1101–2, 1121, 1142–43, 1155–58 Shalmaneser IV, 278–79, 281–82, 285–88, 365, 366, 557, 783t, 791–92, 793, 988–89 Shalmaneser V, 190, 261, 286–87, 292, 296–98, 371–72, 402–3, 566, 567–68, 740, 783t, 995, 998–99, 1174–75. See also Eloulaios; Ululayu Sharon Plain, 1099–100 Sheba, 1147–48 Shechem, 1129–30, 1133–36, 1138–40, 1143–45, 1148, 1149–50 Shednefertem, 19 Shedsunefertem A, 12 Sheizar, 954, 955–56 Shekaft-e Salman, 630–31 Shema’, 1163–64 Shepenwepet I, 27–28, 29–30, 65, 66 Shepenwepet II, 30–31, 65, 66, 70, 122 Shephelah, 1145, 1148–49, 1159–61, 1166, 1179–80. See also Judean Lowlands Sheshonq D, 12, 23–24

1253

Index Sheshonq I (Shishak), 12, 15, 16, 18–22, 44–45, 47–48, 63, 66, 106, 1076–78, 1117–20, 1152–54, 1171 Sheshonq II, 19–22, 44–46 Sheshonq III, 10–11, 24–26, 27, 39, 44–45 Sheshonq IV, 25, 26 Sheshonq V, 11, 25, 26, 27 Sheshonq VI, 25–26 Sheshonq VII, 25 Shiloh, 1133–34, 1138–39, 1143, 1144–45 Shirak Valley, 789–90 Shishak. See Sheshonq I Siamun, 10–11, 13–15, 44, 45–46, 60–61 Šibanibe, 201–2. See also Tell Billa Ṣibar, 683, 684, 685t, 689, 732–34 Sibir, 539–40 Sicily, 1027–30, 1045–46 Ṣid, 1042 Sidakah, 1176–78 Šidiraššura of Irnisa, 689, 697t Šidirparna, 715–16 Sidon, 128–29, 231, 271–72, 312–13, 316–17, 354–55, 356–57, 377–79, 474, 1004, 1030–32, 1037, 1038, 1039–42, 1043–44, 1045, 1057– 58, 1059, 1061–62, 1066–67, 1068, 1074, 1081–83, 1084–92, 1094, 1095–97, 1098, 1099–102, 1155 Ṣidqa of Ashkelon, 378–79 Sihua, 752 Siirt, 794 Sikani, 207–8. See also Tell Fekheriye; Waššukanni

1253

Sikra. See Sikris Šikrakki, Mount, 684, 705–6 Sikris, 685t, 688, 690, 691, 697t, 701–2, 716, 718 Šilh(i)na-hamru-Lagamar, 608–9 Šilhak-Inšušinak I, 618n.128 Šilhak-Inšušinak II, 622–25, 633–34, 637–38, 640–41 Silhazi, 678, 684 Ṣilli-Šamaš, 447 Ṣiluquni, 813–14 Simbar-Šipak, 530, 532–33, 534–35, 537–42, 569, 577–78 Šimerihadirini, 737, 807 Šimige, 831–32 Simimi, 631–33, 634–36, 639 Ṣimirra, 294–95, 301–2, 361–62, 372, 474, 1061–62, 1066–67, 1071– 73, 1088–89, 1095–96, 1101–2. See also Tell Kazel Šimut, 604–5, 643–44 Šimut-sunki, 643–44 Simyra. See Ṣimirra Sin, 231–32, 298, 307–8, 385, 387–89, 461, 488, 490–91, 530–31, 532– 33, 712t. See also Se’; Sehr Sin-ahu-uṣur, 292, 296–97, 298 Sin-apla-iddina, 172 Sin-leqe-unninni, 573–74 Sin-nadin-apli, 313–14, 383–84 Sin-šarru-iškun, 261, 319, 329–30, 332–33, 394–97, 413, 655, 756, 989–90 Sin-šumu-lešir (Sin-šumu-lišir), 326–27, 328–29, 330, 394–95 Sinabu, 224. See also Pornak Sinai, 477, 1047–48

1254

1254

Index

Šinuhtu, 302, 876–78. See also Aksaray Sinzi River, 368–69. See also Göksu River Sippar, 178–79, 211–12, 390, 391, 534–35, 537–39, 540–42, 543, 548–49, 560–61, 570–72, 573–74, 827 Sippar-Aruru, 328 Šipti-Ba‘al, 1075–76, 1080, 1081 Sira, 807 Širikti-Šuqamuna, 544 Sirkeli Höyük, 922–23 Şırnak, 202–3 Şirzi, 991–92 Sissû, 316–17, 1004, 1089–91 Šitamrat, 968 Šitaqupa, 688, 697t Šitrantahma, 727–28. See also Ciçantaxma; Tritantaichmes Šitti-Marduk, 527–30, 577–78 Šitula, 178–79. See also Tikrit Siverek, 927, 949–50, 952, 965–66. See also Išmerikka; S(a)mar(i)ka Šivini, 831–32 Siyanu, 361–62, 1033–35, 1064–65, 1068–69, 1101–2. See also Tell Sianu Sizir, Mount, 368–69 Skayordi, 816–17 Smendes (Nesubanebdjed, Meryamun), 5–8, 9–10, 18–19, 47–48, 68 Smendes II, 7, 12–13 Soleb, 106n.91, 112–13 Solomon, 14, 1043, 1047–48, 1049, 1060, 1093, 1094, 1098–100, 1115, 1120–21, 1130, 1147–48, 1154, 1168

Soniyat, 136–37 Sophene, 838. See also Ṣuppa Ṣor. See Tyre Sorgun, 922n.30 Spain, 1027–30, 1039–41, 1045–46, 1084–85, 1100 Strabo, 89n.14, 822–23 Struchates, 695–96 Subi, 738–40 Subnat River, 210–11, 770–72, 774. See also Sufan Çay Šubria (Šubru), 173–74, 222–23, 273, 312–13, 316, 317–18, 384, 458–59, 485, 773–74, 799–801, 822, 833, 844–45 Ṣubutu, 295. See also Zobah Šudu, 182n.104 Sufan Çay (Sufandere), 210–11. See also Subnat River Sugu, 174 Sugunia, 772–73 Suhi I, 943–44, 948–49, 953–54 Suhi II, 943–44, 949–50, 952–53, 959, 963–64, 965–66 Suhi III, 943, 959 Suhu, 177–78, 226, 227–29, 330–31, 356–57, 395, 476–77, 550, 924– 25, 936–37 Suhuramû, 498n.251 Suksu, 1064–65. See also Tell Sukas Sulaymaniyah, 210, 226, 334–35, 478–79 Sultanhan Höyük, 921–22 Sultantepe, 207, 432–33, 490–91, 965–66. See also Huzirina Sulumal of Melid, 368, 369–70, 793–94, 991

125

Index Šulusunu of Har(a)na, 734 Sumbi, 738 Sumer, 555–56 Šummušra of Qarkasia, 689, 697t Ṣumur. See Ṣimirra Ṣuppa (Ṣupa(ni)), 802–3, 804–5, 838. See also Sophene Suppiluliuma of Falastin, 359–61, 955–57, 961–63, 964, 971–72 Suppiluliuma (Ušpilulume) of Kummuh, 279–80, 365–66, 988–89 Suppiluliuma I of Hatti, 931 Sura, 948–49 Šura, 224. See also Savur Sur-marrati, 178–79. See also Gurmarritu; Samarra Suru, 227. See also as-Sur Susa, 322, 325–26, 394, 592–93, 594– 96, 598–600, 601, 603, 604–5, 606–7, 608–9, 613–16, 622–26, 629–30, 633–38, 639–40, 641, 644–47, 648, 649–51, 654–55, 656–58, 659–61, 662 Šušan, Šušun. See Susa Susiana, 592, 593–94 Sutian, 534–36, 540–41, 570–71, 576–77 Šutirna, 697t Šutruk-Nahhunte, 607, 608–12, 615– 16, 622–26, 633–34, 655–56 Šutrukid, 602–3, 606–7 Šutur-Nahhunte, 609–11, 612, 613–16, 621, 625–30, 631–34, 638, 641–42 Šutur-nahhundi/Šutur-nahudu. See Šutur-Nahhunte

1255

Šuzubu. See Mušezib-Marduk; Nergal-ušezib Syrian Desert, 180, 476   Ṭabete, 180–81, 187–88. See also Tell Taban Tabiry, 110, 115–17 Tabo, 94, 126–27 Ta-dehenet, 138 Tadmur, 180. See also Palmyra Taharqo, 30–32, 65, 110, 120, 122–23, 124–32, 134, 138, 139, 140, 143, 318, 320, 460–61 Tahhi, 615–16, 627, 630, 631–33 Tahtalı Mountains, 922–23, 973 Taita of Falastin, 940–42, 943–44, 954–55, 956 Takelot I, 16, 19–22, 23–24 Takelot II, 24–26, 44–45 Takelot III, 25, 26, 66 Takelot B, 23–24 Taklak-ana-Aššur, 168–71, 176–77 Taklak-ana-Bel, 809–10 Takritain, 330–31. See also Tikrit Tallak-kutur, 639 Talmi-Teššub, 931 Tammaritu, 322, 391, 660 Tamnâ, 379 T‘anahat, 790 Tanakun, 972 Tandaya, 320 Tanetamun, 5–6, 7–8, 68 Tanetsepeh B, 12, 19 Tanis, 5–7, 10–12, 14–15, 16, 19–22, 24, 26–27, 39, 40, 41–43, 44– 45, 46, 48–50, 52–53, 68, 138 Tanit, 1042

1256

1256

Index

Tanutamani, 30–31, 32, 49–50, 55–56, 133, 134, 138, 320, 461 Tara, 946–47 Tara, 140n.235. See also Usli Tarbiṣu, 318–19, 330–31, 725–26 Tarditu-Aššur, 482 Targuni, 813–14 Tarhulara of Gurgum, 304–5, 793– 94, 876–78, 989–90 Tarhunazi of Melid, 304–5, 376–77, 876–78, 991–92 Tarhunda, 930–31 Tarhuntassa, 927–28, 938 Tariuni, 813–14 Tarkasnawa of Mira, 897–98n.124 Tarmakisa, 840, 848 Tarsus, 272, 972, 1002–3. See also Tarzu Tarsus−Gözlükule, 922–23 Tartus, 1064–65 Tarui, 840, 848 Tarwian, 932 Tarzu, 972, 1002–3. See also Tarsus Tashepenbast, 19 Tašmetu-šarrat, 306, 312 Tata, 903–4 Tatarlı Höyük, 922–23 Tauromenium, 1084n.208 Taurus Mountains, 205–7, 231, 243– 44, 370, 456, 757, 770, 776, 791, 794–97, 844, 918, 920–23, 925–26, 938, 957–58, 972–73, 981–82 Tausret, 64–65, 1087 Tayma, 498n.251 Te’elhunu, 309–10 Tefnakht, 27–28, 30, 40–41

Tegarama, 1002n.357. See also Til-Garimmu Teh-khet, 100–1 Tehran, 679, 692 Teišeba, 790, 812–13, 824, 831–32, 841, 851 Tel ʽAmal, 1140–41 Tel Beit-Mirsim, 1166 Tel Dan, 1121, 1142–43, 1156–57, 1158–60, 1171 Tel Dothan, 1133–34 Tel Miqne, 378. See also Ekron Tel Reḥov, 1133–36, 1137–38, 1140– 41, 1169–70, 1174 Tell Abir, 185–86. See also Mutkinu Tell Abta, 286–87 Tell Abu Maryam, 185–86. See also Apku Tell Afis, 918, 933–34, 935, 978–79, 983. See also Ḥadrak; Hatarikka Tell Ahmar, 271–72, 282–84, 466, 924–26, 950–51, 952, 953–54, 959, 968. See also KarShalmaneser; Masuwari; Til Barsip Tell Ajaja, 194, 195–85. See also Šadikanni Tell al-Qana, 925–26, 967–68. See also Sazabû Tell al-Rimah, 281–82, 286–87, 1161–62. See also Zamahu Tell Arqa, 1073. See also Arqa Tell as-Sulaima, 205. See also Til-ša-Abtani Tell ash-Shallaf, 378–79. See also Eltekeh Tell Ashara, 209. See also Terqa

1257

Index Tell Aushariye, 185–86, 924–25. See also Pitru Tell Barri, 209. See also Kahat Tell Basmusiyan, 168–69, 185–86. See also Pakute Tell Billa, 201–2. See also Šibanibe Tell Buldag, 203–4. See also Lubdu Tell Deir ῾Alla, 1171–72 Tell ‘Eitun, 1166 Tell el-Amarna. See also Akhetaten Tell el-Balamun, 38–39 Tell el-Farʽah North, 1134–36. See also Tirzah Tell el-Kheleifah, 1165–66. See also Ezion-gaber Tell el-Retaba, 41–43 Tell es-Ṣafi, 1145, 1170. See also Gath Tell Fara’in, 49–50. See also Buto Tell Fekheriye, 113–14. See also Sikani; Waššukanni Tell Ghamqa, 1070. See also Enhydra Tell Haddad, 205. See also Me-Turnat Tell Halaf, 207–8, 331–32, 466, 927, 1174–75. See also Guzana Tell Jemmeh, 475n.152 Tell Jilaga, 243 Tell Judeidah, 924–25 Tell Kazel, 1030–31, 1050–51, 1061– 62, 1071. See also Ṣimirra Tell Keisan, 1098–99 Tell Masaikh, 227–29. See also Kar-Ashurnasirpal Tell Muqdam, 25. See also Leontopolis Tell Qarqur, 361, 964, 968. See also Qarqar

1257

Tell Rifa’at, 924–26, 963–64, 985. See also Arpad Tell Rumailan, 243 Tell Sheikh Hamad, 207–8, 331–32, 466. See also Dur-Katlimmu Tell Shiukh Fawqani, 925–26, 961– 63, 966–67. See also Burmarina; Marina Tell Sianu, 1064–65. See also Siyanu Tell Sukas, 1064–65. See also Suksu Tell Taban, 180–81. See also Ṭabete Tell Tayinat, 231, 314–16, 446, 466, 923–24, 925–26, 935, 942, 955, 956–57, 959, 961–64, 971–72, 975–77, 1034–35, 1184–85. See also Kinaliya; Kullania; Kunulua Tell-e Malyan, 592, 604, 605–7. See also Anšan Telusina of Andia, 374–75, 739–40, 742 Temanites, 194–95, 205–7 Temple Mount, 1188–89 Tepe Bormi, 629–30 Tepti-Huban-Inšušinak, 613–14, 622–25, 633–34, 637–38, 646–47 Te’ri, 322–23, 324–25 Terqa, 209, 211–12. See also Tell Ashara Teššub, 831–32 Teudjoi (Tayu-djayt), 8–9 Te’umman, 320–21, 322, 622–25 Teušpa, 750 Tharthar River, 211–12, 286–87, 476–77

1258

1258

Index

Thebes, 1, 3–8, 9–10, 11–14, 15–16, 19, 22, 23–25, 27–28, 32, 36, 38, 40, 44, 47, 48–49, 51, 53, 57–58, 60–61, 65, 68–71, 97–98, 106, 108, 110–11, 121–22, 123–24, 129, 131–32, 320, 461, 1074–75 Thrace, 871n.22 Thutmose II, 7–8 Thutmose III, 395, 1071 Tiamat, 183–84, 411, 758–59 Tidu, 219–20, 223–24. See also Üçtepe Tiglath-pileser I, 162–65, 166–84, 185–87, 188–90, 194–95, 196– 97, 203–4, 205–7, 210–11, 230, 233–36, 244, 354–55, 400–1, 427–28, 442–43, 471–72, 527–29, 531–33, 570–71, 774, 775, 929–30, 936–37, 939–40, 945–46, 1046–47, 1061–62, 1066–67, 1075–76, 1083, 1087– 88, 1094 Tiglath-pileser II, 192–94, 197, 205–7 Tiglath-pileser III, 122–23, 259–60, 261–62, 264–65, 285, 290, 291– 98, 335, 366–67, 368–70, 371, 372, 401, 402–3, 442–43, 449– 50, 459, 472, 474, 476, 479, 483–85, 520, 560–62, 564–68, 571, 575, 611, 682–84, 685–86, 695, 696, 708–9, 712–13, 738, 740, 783t, 793–95, 803–5, 808, 838, 846, 847, 849–50, 983–85, 986–88, 989–90, 991–92, 993, 994–96, 998, 999–1000, 1062–63, 1064–66, 1068–69,

1072–73, 1080, 1085, 1088–89, 1095–96, 1164–65, 1173–74, 1176–78, 1179 Tigris River, 161–62, 172, 173–74, 177–79, 181–82, 183, 191–92, 193–95, 197–200, 202–4, 205–7, 210–12, 215–16, 219–20, 222–25, 227–29, 232–33, 241, 273, 307, 317–18, 320, 330–32, 334–35, 355, 359–61, 384, 414, 427–28, 459, 476, 493–94, 525–26, 542, 546–48, 560–61, 693, 770, 773–74, 775, 791, 799, 936–37 Tigris Tunnel, 168–69, 174–75. See also Bırkleyn Tikrit, 178–79, 330–31. See also Šitula; Takritain Til-abni, 230 Til-bari, 205 Til Barsip, 271–72, 273, 282–84, 368–69, 387–89, 466, 491–92, 924–25, 950–51, 959, 968. See also Kar-Shalmaneser; Masuwari; Tell Ahmar Til-Garimmu, 304–5, 309, 992–93, 1002–3. See also Tegarama Tille Höyük, 926–27 Tillê (Tiluli), 243 Til-ša-Abtani, 205. See also Tell as-Sulaima Til-ša-Zabdani, 205 Til-Tuba, 322 Timaeus of Tauromenium, 1084n.208 Timur, Mount, 973 Tinnit. See Tanit

1259

Index Tiphsah, 478n.165 Tirzah, 1134–36, 1138, 1139–40, 1143–45, 1146–47, 1148 Titia, 823–24 Tjehenu (Tjehemu/Tjemehu), 17–18 Tjeker, 1099–100 Tohma Su valley, 921–22, 932–33, 946 Toi (Tou), 955 Tombos, 95, 103, 120, 132–33 Tont Kalesi, 973. See also Cybistra; Hupušna Topada, 995–98, 999–1000 Toprakkale, 814, 834–35, 836–37. See also Rusahinili-Qilbanikai Transjordan, 295, 1136–37, 1157, 1163, 1176–78 Tritantaichmes, 727–28. See also Ciçantaxma; Šitrantahma Troad, 871n.22, 878–79 Troy, 871 Tu’ammu, 294, 984–85 Tu’umuna, 301–2 Tuate. See Tuwati Tuatti of Tabal, 272, 973 Tu-Ba‘alu. See Itho-Ba‘al Tubal, 869n.10 Tudhaliya of Carchemish, 943–45, 950–51 Tudhaliya Labarna, 932 Tugdammî, 758–59, 1004. See also Lygdamis Tuhana, 921, 999–1000. See also Kemerhisar; Tuwana; Tyana Ṭuhî, 497n.249 Tukulti-Aššur-aṣbat, 226 Tukulti-Mer, 187–88

1259

Tukulti-Ninurta I, 177–78, 188–89, 205, 211–12, 429–30, 566–67 Tukulti-Ninurta II, 197, 209–16, 217–18, 222–24, 225–27, 240, 241, 245, 269–70, 354–55, 479, 550 Tulli of Tanakun, 972 Tulul al-‘Aqar, 404–6. See also Kar-Tukulti-Ninurta Tumme, 174–75 Tunip, 969 Tunisia, 1027–30, 1045–46 Tunni, Mount, 972–73. See also Bolkar Dağ Tupusu, 776–77 Tur Abdin Mountains, 173, 191–92, 194–95, 205–7, 210–11, 215, 223– 24, 273, 770–72, 791, 929–30. See also Kašiyari Mountains Türkmen-Karahöyük, 920, 928–29, 996–98 Turušpa. See Tušpa Tušhan, 224, 446, 480, 493–94. See also Ziyaret Tepe Tušpa, 294–95, 370–71, 459, 776–77, 779, 794–95, 800–1, 811–12, 825–26, 829–30, 834. See also Van Kalesi Tuwana, 880, 921–22, 999–1000, 1001–2. See also Kemerhisar; Tuhana; Tyana Tuwati, 995, 998 Tyana, 867–68, 880, 921, 999–1000. See also Kemerhisar; Tuhana; Tuwana Tynna, 921, 999–1000. See also Porsuk; Zeyve Höyük

1260

1260 Tyre, 128–29, 231, 272, 305–6, 321, 354–55, 356–57, 382, 475, 496– 97, 1030–31, 1033–34, 1036–37, 1038–42, 1043, 1045, 1047–48, 1049, 1050–51, 1055, 1057–58, 1060, 1066, 1068, 1069–70, 1074, 1081–82, 1083–89, 1091– 92, 1093–99, 1100–2, 1155   Uab[…], Mount, 688 Uaite’, 394 Uakirtu, 697t Uaksatar, 701–2, 719, 724t Uallî, 321–22, 754 Uardatti, 689 Uarzan, 697t Uassurme. See Wasusarma Uauš, Mount, 303–4, 373, 374–76, 739–43, 798, 809, 833–34. See also Sahand, Mount Uayais, 739–40, 849 Üçtepe, 219–20, 223–24. See also Tidu Udaki, 734, 735 Udu, 242n.387 Uetaš, 272 Ugarit, 1037, 1038–39, 1041, 1043, 1050–51, 1061, 1064–65, 1082, 1092, 1094 Ugar-sallu, 205 Ugišti, 739–40 Uiršu, 627–29 Uišdiš, 372–73, 374–76, 738–42 Uita, 803 Uitana, 685t Ukku, 309, 797–98, 822 Uksatar, 685t, 724t

Index Ukuta, 688, 697t Ulaya River, 322, 527–29 Ulliba, 966n.210 Ulluba, 292–93, 294, 370, 794–95, 965–66 Ullusunu of Mannea, 302–4, 373– 76, 740–46, 747–48, 755–56, 808–10 Ululba, 794 Uluzu, 198–200 Umakištar, 719, 723, 725. See also Cyaxares Umbanunu, 640–41, 646–48 Ummanaldaš, 394, 634, 659. See also Huban-haltaš Ummanigaš, 322, 324–25, 390, 391, 602, 604, 609, 611–12, 660–61. See also Huban-nikaš Umman-manda, 725, 726, 801, 815–16 Umman-menanu, 626–27, 641 Ummanunu, 633–34, 637–38, 640– 42, 656–57 Unqi, 923–24, 956–57, 960–61, 978–79, 982–83. See also Amuq Plain; Falastin; Patin Untaš-Napiriša, 619n.130 Unu-mah, 530 Unzamuni, Unzumuni, 775 Unzi-kilik, 645–46 Up(u)ria, 716 Uparia, 683–84, 685t, 696 Upaš, 685t Upi. See Opis Uppamma, 697t Upper Egypt, 3–4, 13–14, 24–26, 29–30, 35, 36, 40–41, 110–11, 131–32

126

Index Uppis, 717–18 Uppiš, 752 Uppite, 701–2 Uppumu, 317–18, 321–22, 800–1 Upuria, 688, 690, 691, 697t Uqnu River, 560–61 Uqutti. See Ukuta Ur, 530–32, 534–35, 539–40, 571, 573–74, 1083–84 Ura, 831–32 Uradami. See Rudamu Urakazabarna, 717–18 Urartu (Uraštu, Uraṭri, Uruaṭri), 187–88, 270–71, 273–74, 282–84, 285, 288–89, 294–95, 299, 302–5, 317–18, 358–59, 366, 367, 368–69, 370, 371–73, 374–75, 376–77, 384, 439, 459, 482, 674–76, 680–81, 729–30, 732–34, 735–36, 738, 739–41, 742, 744–47, 755–56, 760, 770–74, 775–76, 779, 780–81, 785–87, 789–90, 791–94, 798, 799–802, 804–6, 807–8, 810, 811, 813–15, 816–17, 818–20, 821, 822, 823, 825–26, 827, 828–29, 830–31, 837–39, 843, 844–45, 846, 848, 849–50, 852–53, 869–70, 875–78, 917–18, 984–85, 989–92, 995, 1007. See also Biainili Ura-Tarhunza, 943, 945, 948–49, 953–54 Uratas, 689, 697t Uratista, 689, 697t Urayani, 789–90 Urdu-Issar, 447

1261

Urdu-Mullissu, 306, 310–11 Urdutu, 309 Urgis, 903–4 Urhilina (Irhulenu) of Hamath, 271–72, 361–62, 363, 969, 1062, 1155–56 Urhi-Teššub, 927–28. See also Mursili III Uriaka (Urikaia, Uriakku), 688, 691, 697t, 701–2 Uriangi, 697t Urikki, 805–6, 875–76, 994–95. See also Awariku Uri-milk (Uru-milki) of Byblos, 377–78, 1081 Uriqatu, 690, 697t Urkiamun, 736n.141, 752 Urmete. See Armetta Urpala’a. See Warpalawas Ursa. See Rusa Urtaku, 320–21 Uru-milki. See Uri-milk URU.TUR-PNTitiahinini, 823–24 URU.Zaiahina-URU, 823–24 Uruaṭri. See Urartu Uruk, 328–29, 330, 534–36, 539–40, 548–49, 551–53, 554, 558–59, 560–62, 564, 571, 573–74 Urumu, 773–74, 776–77 Ururu, 596n.22 Urzana, 795–97 Uşaklı Höyük, 921–22, 927–28 Ushnu Valley, 806–7 Uši, 739n.153 Usis, 697t Usli, 136–37. See also Tara Ušnanis, 876–78

126

1262 Usnu (Usanatu), 361, 362–63, 1065, 1068–69, 1072–73, 1101–2 Ušpina. See Išpuini Ušqaqqana, 684 Ušqaya. See Ašqaya Ušra of Kanzabkani, 688, 697t, 701, 708–9 Ušru of Nikisi, 685t Ušû, 1086, 1096 Utica, 1045–46 Utirna, 691 Utupuršini, 787–88 Utu’u, 211–12. See also Hit; Itu, Itu’eans Uwa, 904 Uyadaue, 691 Uzbia, 730–32, 752 Uzi, 697t Uzitar, 697t Uzumanda, 697t Uzunyayla, 973   Valley of the Kings, 37–38, 44, 46–48, 71 Valley of the Queens, 48 Van Kalesi, 370, 794–95. See also Tušpa Vezirköprü, 922n.30 Vıranşehir, 1002–3. See also Ingira   Wadi Abu Dom, 87–88 Wadi Farʽah, 1134–36, 1139–40 Wadi Howar, 87–88, 105–6 Wadi Muqaddam, 132 Wadi Tharthar, 211–12, 286–87 Warika, 993–94. See also Awariku

Index Warpalawa of Tuwana, 880, 894, 995–96, 999–1000, 1001–2 Warubani, 831–32 Waššukanni, 207–8. See also Sikani; Tell Fekheriye Wassusarruma. See Wasusarma Wasti, 949–50 Wasusarma, 995–98, 999–1000 Waza, 789, 812–13, 824, 841 Wazaya, 812 Weduri Etiuni, 789–90 Welikuhi, 790 Wenamun, 5–7, 68, 1074–75, 1087, 1099–100 Wendjebauendjed, 44–45 Werketer, 1087 Wesi, 810 Witeruhi, 780–81, 789–90   Xanthus, 871n.22 Xenophon, 821 Xerxes I, 139   Yabittarru, 683–84 Yadburu, 655–56 Yahalu, 264, 275–76 Yahanu, 198–200, 359–61, 963–64, 966–67. See also Ahanu; Arpad; Bit-Agusi Yahweh, 1099, 1180, 1183–84 Yakinlû, 320, 321, 1069–70 Yalman, Mount, 203–4, 547–48 Yamani, 131–32, 304–5, 376–77 Yamutbal, 320 Yariri, 879–80, 977–78, 985, 994–95 Yarri-Tarhunda, 930–31

1263

Index Yasbuq, 359–61, 967–68 Yasin Tepe, 226 Yasmah-Addu, 445n.56 Yassıdağı, 794. See also Nal, Mount Yassıhöyük, 867, 881. See also Gordion Yasubigalleans, 308–9 Yausu, 194–95, 198–200 Yautair, 685t Yeḥi-milk, 1075–80 Yesemek, 926–27, 966–67. See also Lutibu YHWH. See Yahweh Yoncalı, 168–69, 174–75 Yoqne’am, 1163–64, 1174 Yumuktepe, 1002–3. See also Illubru   Zabaha, 816 Zabban, 205 Zabdanu, 227, 550 Zabibê, 476 Zab River Lower, 161–62, 173, 174, 177–78, 185–86, 193–95, 196–97, 198– 200, 202–5, 215–16, 219–20, 330–31, 525–27, 547–48, 732– 34, 774–75 Upper, 161–62, 173, 174, 232–33, 355 Zagros mountains, 197–98, 203–4, 210, 225–26, 237, 242–44, 270– 71, 274, 308–9, 314–16, 334–35, 354–55, 357, 374–75, 376–77, 386–87, 390, 456, 478–79, 493, 525–26, 527–29, 539–40, 547– 48, 569–70, 592–94, 602–3,

1263

633–34, 645–46, 676–78, 680, 701, 704–5, 709–10, 748–49, 756, 770, 781, 792–93, 806–7, 808 Zahuṭuṭu, 497n.249 Zaia, 823–24 Zakar-Ba‘al of Amurru, 1075n.173 Zakar-Ba‘al of Byblos, 1074–75 Zakar-Yahu, 1099–100 Zakkur of Hamath, 282–84, 970, 978–79, 981, 982–83, 1078–80 Zakrute, 711–12 Zakutu, 306, 312, 313–14, 319, 387– 89, 470, 473. See also Naqi’a Zamahu, 286–87. See also Tell al-Rimah Zami people, 631–33 Zamin, 648, 655–58 Zamru, 225–26 Zamua. See Mazamua Zanasana, 717–18 Zanjan, 679 Zaphon, Mount, 1034, 1041, 1063, 1065–66, 1100–1. See also Jebel Aqra Zaqqu, 202–3, 526–27, 547–48 Zardukka of Harzianu, 688, 701 Zari, 644–45 Zarians, 638, 644–45 Zazaknu, 697t Zechariah, 1173–74 Zedekiah, 1188 Zendan-e Suleiman, 743 Zerah, 106 Zereda, 1138–39. See also Khirbet Bant Bar

1264

1264

Index

Zeus, 901 Zey, 902–3 Zeyve Höyük, 921, 999–1000, 1002. See also Porsuk; Tynna Zibia (Izibia, Uzbia), 375, 730–32, 741, 752. See also Ziwiye Zikirtu, 302, 372–73, 374–75, 727– 28, 736, 738–41, 742–43, 744, 755–56, 760. See also Sagartia Zincirlı, 31–32, 466, 883, 923–24, 952, 957, 966–67, 971–72, 974,

1047, 1059, 1083–84. See also Sam’al Zirta, 730–32, 734. See also Izirtu Ziuquni, 812–13 Ziwiye, 375, 730–32, 741. See also Zibia Ziyaret Tepe, 224, 480. See also Tušhan Zobah, 955. See also Ṣubutu Zoroaster, 707 Zuani, 788 Zuwarimi, 958