Three New Sidewalk Inscriptions from Caesarea Maritima

Roman rings with miniature “sculptural bezels” - a product of an early Roman workshop in Caesarea Maritima. A group of Roman period rings with miniature sculptured bezels depicting Egyptian deities was identified as a product of Roman Egypt by Karo (1901), Marshall (1907, reprint 1969) and others. The conclusion that these rings were initially made in Roman Egypt is accepted by some later scholars (Segal 1938; Leclant 1971). Other scholars, such as Hornbustel identified most specimens as provincial Roman pieces dating above all from the Severan period (later 1st-2nd century CE). Hornbustel suggested that under the Severans these rings were fairly common in Western Europe, and identifies their owners as private people or soldiers of the middle to lower classer (Hornbustel 1973). The origin of most published rings is hard to ascertain - some come from known regions, even from a specific site; but the provenance of many is unsecured. Three new pieces of this ring type were found on the site of Caesarea Maritima; a fourth is said to come from the same site; and two others were acquired in Israel. Observations show that the initial prototypes for this ring type were indeed fashioned in Roman Egypt, by a workshop (or workshops) specializing in manufacturing gold rings, above all for religious patrons. Furthermore, that a workshop located in Caesarea Maritima in the late 1st century BCE to the 2nd century CE specialized in the production of this unique type of sculptured bezel rings. This Caesarean workshop probably played a part in the dispersion of this ring type into the Western Roman provinces.

ABSTRACTHydraulic lime binders are considered a technological marvel which revolutionized construction techniques in antiquity. The core material is made of a binder that is a mixture of calcite and hydraulic phases, which are amorphous silicate compounds that nanostructurally polymerize into insoluble phases that harden even underwater, formed during the reaction between lime and reactive silicates such as volcanic ash. This is also what makes hydraulic lime so hard to radiocarbon (14C) date. These insoluble phases contain carbonates that may set centuries following their application, resulting in younger ages, which may contaminate the calcite fraction that is favorable for 14C dating. This calcite fraction forms upon the incorporation of atmospheric carbon dioxide during the setting of the hydrated lime. Therefore, different characterization methods are being constantly developed for identifying and characterizing the components of hydraulic lime-binders. In this work, we present a rapid characterization technique based on Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy (FTIR) that characterizes the atomic disorder and chemical environment of the carbonates and silicates fractions in the binder. The atomic disorder of the calcite crystallites was determined by the ν2 and ν4 vibrational modes, and the silicates were characterized by the main peak asymmetry and full width at half maximum (FWHM). Different hydraulic binders from Caesarea Maritima were examined, including Herodian mortars from the underwater breakwater and on-land plasters and mortars from the portʼs warehouse and vaults. Hydraulic binders, in which the calcite fraction in the binder shows atomic disorder that is comparable to modern plaster binders, was associated with silicates that have asymmetry and FWHM of clays and quartz. These materials are considered to be in good preservation state for 14C dating since their carbonates crystallites are disordered and did not interact with the environment chemically to form stable and ordered crystals. Interestingly, the atomic disorder of binders that underwent chemical alterations and recrystallization processes, are associated with reactive silicates aggregates such as volcanic ash (pozzolana). These results suggest a new way to prescreen materials for radiocarbon dating based on the composition of lime-binders and preservation state of the carbonate fraction and hydraulic products.

Deals with all skeletal material finds (bone, ivory and antler) from the work of the three teams excavating at Caesarea Maritima, Israel, over recent years. The assemblage includes around 4,000 finds and fragments - a multi-period collection that serves as a solid basis for a thorough discussion and comparison with similar finds from Israel and abroad. To these items were added the bone objects displayed in the Caesarea Museum at Sdot-Yam - surface finds that include some items with no typological parallels within the main assemblage. All the finds are illustrated and catalogued.

After the arrival of large, long-term Roman garrisons, Palestine's landscape was transformed as Greco-Roman urban and monumental architecture became common features in many cities. In this chapter, I will discuss some of the changes that characterized civic life in the second and third centuries. I begin with the adoption of new civic names and titles. Next, I provide an inventory of where Roman urban architecture appeared. Last, I consider the issue of who was responsible for the construction of these buildings. Throughout the chapter, I consider developments throughout Palestine in order to keep those in Galilee in perspective. CIVIC TITLES AND NAMES One effect of the heightened Roman presence in Palestine was the establishment of new colonies. Caesarea Maritima was elevated to colonial status by Vespasian shortly after the first revolt, taking the official name Colonia Prima Flavia Augusta Caesarea. The Roman colony of Aelia Capitolina had been founded at Jerusalem by 132 CE. Military veterans settled at both cities. Inscriptions show that Caesarea adopted Roman-style civic institutions, with duumviri , decurions , and pontifices , and Aelia Capitolina probably did likewise. Both cities placed Latin inscriptions on their coins. In the late second century and throughout the first half of the third, numerous cities were awarded the status of colony and a few received the still more vaunted title of “metropolis.” By then, however, the designation “colony” appears to have been purely honorific; the Romans had ceased to establish genuine colonies occupied by military veterans.

The Naukratis Project concerns work in the western Nile Delta, specifically along the Canopic branch of the Nile from el-Barnugi in the north to Kom el-Hisn in the south. This area contains the ancient city of Naukratis (Kom Ge'if), which, according to the ancient Greek historian Herodotus, was the first and only city in which the early Greek merchants were allowed to settle, as well as other sites with reported histories of occupation from Pharaonic through late Roman times. Unfortunately, little is known of these sites and their state of preservation. The Naukratis Project, therefore, involves the following activities. 1) A survey of all ancient sites within a ca. 25 km. radius of Naukratis in order to assess the character of the visible remains, the state of site preservation, and the extent of modern despoliation and occlusion by recent settlements. 2) An examination of the occupational history of these sites as indicated by the surface finds, particularly the ceramic material.Although the 1977–78 season was primarily intended to determine the logistics involved in such a multi-phased project, 10 sites were examined, mapped, and sherded. This material, which was processed in the field, offers a considerable amount of information on the patterns of settlement in the Western Delta, especially during the often neglected Greek and Roman periods, as well as suggests key areas in which excavation would be fruitful in future phases of this project.

The cultural context in which the term “Gandhāra” is used initially refers to Vedic geography and then to the administrative limits of the homonymous Achaemenid satrapy. The most reliable information referring to the Middle Holocene period, in which the Gandhāran region must have met a climatically optimal phase during which domesticated rice was introduced to Kashmir and Swat through the trans-Himalayan corridors (early 2nd millennium bce or earlier). Toward the end of the 2nd millennium, northern Gandhāra features a rather coherent settlement phenomenon marked by large graveyards, mainly with inhumations, which were labeled by previous scholarship as the “Gandhāra Grave Culture” (1200–900 bce). In this phase among the major cultural markers, the introduction of iron technology is noteworthy. The historic phases in Gandhāra are marked by an initial urban phase in Gandhāra (500–150 bce), sometimes referred to as a “second urbanization,” on the evidence mainly from Peshawar, Charsadda I, Barikot, and Bhir Mound (Taxila I). Mature urban phases (150 bce–350 ce) are defined based on the restructuring of old cities, and new urban foundations during the phases of contact historically defined by the Indo-Greek and Śaka dynasties, followed by the Kushans (Peshawar, Charsadda II, Barikot, Sirkap, or Taxila III). The artistic phenomenon known as the Buddhist “art of Gandhāra” started toward the end of the 1st century bce and lasted until the 4th century ce. The beginning of this art is best attested in that period in Swat, where schist of exceptional quality is largely available. At the beginning of the 1st century ce, the iconic and figurative symbols of Indian Buddhism acquire a narrative form, which is the major feature of the Buddhist art of Gandhāra. The subsequent art and architecture of Buddhist Gandhāra feature large sanctuaries richly decorated, and monasteries, documented in several “provinces” of Gandhāra throughout the Kushan period, from the late 1st century ce to mid/end-3rd century ce. In this period Buddhist sanctuaries and urban centers developed together, as proved both in Peshawar valley, in Swat, and at Taxila. After the urban crisis (post-300 ce)—which went hand in hand with the crisis of the centralized Kushan rule—stratigraphic excavations have so far registered a significant thinning of the archaeological deposits, with a few exceptions. Besides coins deposited in coeval phases of Buddhist sanctuaries and literary and epigraphic sources, archaeological evidence for the so-called Hunnic or “Huna” phases (c. 5th–7th century ce) are very scarce. Around the mid-6th century, Buddhist monasteries entered a period of crisis, the effects of which were dramatically visible in the first half of the 7th century, especially in the northern regions of Gandhāra. It is after this phase (early 7th century) that literary sources and archaeology report the existence of several Brahmanical temples in and around Gandhāra. These temples were first supported by the Turki-Śāhi (whose capital was in Kabulistan; end-7th/early 8th century) and then by the Hindu-Śāhi (9th–10th century).

Over the last decade, a Herodian facility for chariot racing has been excavated at Caesarea Maritima by two different teams. A team of the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA) under my direction has been responsible for excavating the cavea and most of the arena (fig. I), while the Combined Caesarea Expedition under J. Patrich has excavated the carceres and a small portion of the arena. Patrich recently published (JRA 14, 269-83) the archaeological evidence for the carceres, but some of his conclusions about how the facility as a whole operated, especially those relating to the larger area excavated by the IAA, are misleading, and I would like to discuss and correct them.Patrich calls the stone-built facility for chariot racing a “hippodrome/stadium”, although that is not a commonly accepted term among the types of ancient entertainment buildings. The sources and archaeological evidence make it clear that an entertainment building belonging to a particular building type could house a wider variety of performances than just those chiefly associated with that type. Thus, in addition to chariot races, a circus could legitimately hold athletic contests typical of the stadium in front of the longitudinal sections of the cavea, and it might even hold performances typical of theatre and amphitheatre in its semicircular end opposite the start.

This volume takes a broad view of the intersection of maritime activities with the socioeconomic development of the Mediterranean world. Focusing on evidence from the Roman and late antique eastern Mediterranean, with particular attention to the area of southwestern Turkey and southern Cyprus from the second century BCE to the seventh century CE, Leidwanger presents an economic history intrinsically connected to the dynamic maritime world.The initial chapter, “Maritime Interaction and Mediterranean Communities,” utilizes previous influential works of F. Braudel (1972), C. Broodbank (2000), and P. Horden and N. Purcell (2000) to establish the opposition of approaches taken in conceptualizing the Mediterranean from the perspective of a “unified sea” to “fragmentation and microregions” considered over the longue durée. In this volume, Leidwanger’s aim is to take a diachronic and multiscalar approach to the maritime activities that shaped the economic and daily lives of those tied to the Mediterranean. He applies his knowledge of connectivity in the analysis of the multiscalar movements between maritime landscapes to understand the impact of the sea on the development of commerce, among other facets of daily life, in the ancient classical (Roman/late antique) world. His work with social network analysis (SNA) is applied here to model the diachronic evolution of economies linked to maritime activity, as well as landscapes. At the core of his network analysis is the relationship between nodes; his consideration of both ports and shipwrecks, as well as their cargoes, represents distinct datasets, valuable by themselves but given a new dimension of depth considered together in his overarching analysis. The choice of southeast Turkey and Cyprus as the focal point for his case study provides numerous centers of maritime activity in addition to extensive archaeological evidence from a single region. Within the Braudelian process, the long durée temporal scale of his study allows for the observance of changes in maritime and economic patterns within this single, particularly active region.The physical and social parameters encountered in his model are explored in Chapter 2, “Topography and Tools of Interaction,” through the examination of the region’s marine and coastal topographies, currents, and winds, which in turn impacted ship-building technologies and construction techniques, cargos and their capacity, as well as crew size. The interplay between these parameters is exemplified in his incorporation of current research on sailing seasons with the Mediterranean and their influence and effect on maritime technology, specifically in shipbuilding. The data under consideration for this region and study derives from shipwrecks and is reinforced by evidence from ancient texts and iconography. Leidwanger notably distinguishes between the iconography of the elites in sources such as ornate mosaics and those reflective of the lower classes in the form of dipinto. He applies these parameters along with data from the replica fourth-century BCE ship Kyrenia II (originally wrecked off the coast of Cyprus) to demonstrate the strength of recent research, which shows that sailing not only continued into the night but also through the winter season. His model ascribes these considerations not to a linear development but rather views it as the result of knowledge and experience of sailors and merchants, who over time responded to local environmental and economic variables. Given that this knowledge existed on a local and regional level, a strong case emerges for the legitimacy of interconnected, smaller networks driving maritime exchange.Chapter 3, “Modeling Maritime Dynamics,” moves on to the theoretical implications of the author’s network model set within a regional scope. Leidwanger dives into the complex terminology of concepts of “regionalism” and “regions,” along with their ties to maritime connectivity. Using the parameters explored in Chapter 2 together with descriptions of regions and journeys by ancient authors, he argues that the experiences of mariners are reflected in the nomenclature of informal boundaries, which in turn highly influenced sailing habits. Leidwanger acknowledges the “importance of the interrelated mobilities of goods and people” (91), along with the centrality of fishing, which help to create links across regions, economies, and social classes. This multiscalar approach gives much greater agency to the broader spectrum of players involved in maritime trade, looking beyond elite movement between large ports.At the center of this volume is a valuable dataset presented in Chapter 4, “Exploring Shipwreck Data,” in which 67 shipwrecks are evaluated based on the proposed model put forth in the previous chapters. This is a significant analysis and contribution to the field as there are less than 200 total shipwrecks published from the Roman and late antique eastern Mediterranean. Leidwanger’s corpus therefore represents a valuable undertaking. The most compelling takeaway from his analysis is the identification of spikes in maritime activity during the early Roman and late antique periods, with a relative lull during the third century CE, a phenomenon limited to the eastern Mediterranean. Leidwanger uses his experience with network analysis to evaluate the connectivity based on the various cargoes of ships. The quantification of the data reveals not only patterns over the breadth of time covered in this study but also allows for the identification of important developments on variable scales and in different areas (152). This model takes into consideration the impact of dynamic landscapes, spatial and relational data from shipwrecks, and temporal rhythms, among other factors, presenting a more nuanced picture of the ancient maritime economy.The other line of evidence in his analysis is presented in Chapter 5, “Ports and Everyday Economies,” in which he provides an assessment of port sites. Here too, a multifaceted approach is taken to the material by evaluating the archaeological evidence, as well as issues of geography, topography, and environment. This methodology highlights Leidwanger’s attention to regionalism and the variables specific to the different maritime and coastal landscapes. Using the GIS software Gephi for network analysis, he creates models of his study areas with port sites, providing new data on many unpublished sites. Exemplifying the usefulness of GIS applications, Leidwanger then combines his port-site models with data from terrestrial archaeological surveys on the agricultural production of commodities found in ports and wrecks to illustrate the connectivity between the inland networks of production and transport with those of the maritime pathways. This is an important contribution as it coalesces what are two usually distinct datasets from land and sea into a single, more complete picture of economic production and distribution. The mapping reveals a complex network of ports of varying scales that was intimately tied to environmental constraints, geography, and navigational abilities specific to that region. The value of local ports is highlighted in which the movement of goods through this highly localized geography could occur more easily, and frequently solidify connections with the regional network (195). The chronological framework of the author’s project allows for the recognition of development and changing patterns in the maritime networks of production and exchange in which during the Roman period the Aegean is the central node with networks radiating to more immediate connections in Cyprus, Cilicia, and the Levant, but also extending to the Adriatic, Black Sea, and the western Mediterranean in Gaul. However, the picture changes during late antiquity when Cyprus, Cilicia, and the Levant gain centrality within the broader production network.Chapter 6, “Maritime Networks in the Roman East,” brings together the data and arguments from the previous chapters and frames them within the eastern Mediterranean’s sociopolitical and economic spheres. Leidwanger discusses the shifts in maritime activity with concentrations in the early Roman period and during late antiquity. The economic zone created between Cyprus and the Aegean in the early Roman period, from the second century BCE to the second century CE, and reaching an apex slightly earlier than the western Mediterranean in the first century CE, shows that this region was integrated into the imperial network but maintained its own distinct zone of economic interaction. The other upturn in maritime activity corresponds to the establishment of Constantinople at the beginning of the fourth century CE, when the case-study regions of southwestern Turkey and southern Cyprus emerged as central nodes within the broader late antique economic networks, extending through the fifth century CE. At this time the regions developed greater connectivity through interregional trade as well as linking with broader networks associated with the Black Sea and Danube regions. Leidwanger reveals that the well-held perception of economic decline and reduction of late antique shipwrecks does not reflect a retraction of network use. Rather, late antiquity was a period of busy regional markets in the eastern Mediterranean.A short closing section, “Further Journeys,” postulates the direction of maritime archaeology and its development as a field of study. One area where the field could be exponentially enriched is with the addition of more multiscalar regional assessments, identifying southern France, Sicily, and Israel as regions with potential for regional projects similar to Leidwanger’s own. Echoing Horden and Purcell, the value of an analysis in the longue durée allows for greater detail, further broadening the chronological scope to include material from the Hellenistic through the later medieval periods in order to potentially add to this already rich corpus of evidence. Beyond expanding the temporal framework, Leidwanger suggests expanding the contextual data to include “other major indicators of mobility, interaction, and economic development throughout the hinterlands” (226). Ties between maritime networks with coastal and inland markets would provide new insights across a more unified regional economy.Two appendixes conclude the monograph. The first one of Roman and late antique shipwrecks from southwest Turkey and the northeast Mediterranean provides valuable information to further support Leidwanger’s analysis, such as the types of cargo recovered and wreck context in deposition. This is also a concise record, useful for future scholars to access the primary datasets (Parker, OXREP, DARMC) in one place through Leidwanger’s meticulous reassessment. The second appendix presents a thorough discussion of and data on wind patterns for the relevant regions through which one can see the impact of environmental variation on maritime movement.This volume makes several strong contributions to theoretical and methodological approaches toward the analysis of maritime economy. Leidwanger’s model highlights the continued need to move away from the previous, and somewhat current, trends of top-down approaches focused on exchange between large, urban ports. His case studies clearly demonstrate the complexity of maritime networks operating from the bottom-up, highly affected by regional variation in landscape, weather, and geography. They also highlight the local agency of mariners working at multiple levels of involvement in maritime movement and trade, producing a comprehensive model with aspects not previously considered in broader pan-Mediterranean models. An aspect of his research, rarely acknowledged, are the multifaceted roles these maritime agents played in trade, with varying identities, likely simultaneously as sailors, merchants, fishermen, and other operators that drove the regionalized worlds of maritime trade. Their small worlds, connected on a scale of no more than a few days’ journey in familiar territory, reinforce the focus on opportunistic harbors and regional networks operated by local experts. The geographical flexibility and dynamic nature of this model solidifies it as the primary mode of maritime trade in the eastern Mediterranean, despite different narratives held for traditional Mediterranean-wide models based on large port-to-port exchange.As with any study including ceramics and network analysis, petrography can add a whole other dimension of information. While this is an ideal inclusion for analysis, it is often unrealistic to be able to obtain extensive petrographic information, especially when looking at numerous assemblages from various excavations over an extended period. It would also be of interest to expand the dataset by including other ceramic vessel types, beyond those of transport amphorae, found in wrecks and port assemblages. Inclusion of ceramic vessels such as fine wares within this model would lend new information about their distribution from port to inland sites, including vessels moving with, and on, established agricultural market networks. As Leidwanger suggests in his “Further Journeys” section, inland trade-network studies provide another dimension of analysis toward understanding the complete movement of goods to inland sites, beyond their entrance at ports and small harbors.This volume represents an important move forward in our understanding of how multiscalar connectivity influenced not only maritime trade but the Roman economy itself. This comprehensive research provides a valuable model for future regional studies.

Located on the country’s Eastern seaboard, the Indian state of Odisha has been known as Kalinga, Utkal, and Odra (or Orissa, as it was known up until 2011). Carved out of a larger Odia-speaking region of India, it came into existence as a separate linguistic province in 1936. The name Odisha traces its roots to Odra, an ancient kingdom in the northern part of the state. It is mentioned in Sarala Das’s Mahābhārata, which was composed during the reign of Gajapati king Kapilendra Deva in the fifteenth century. While Kapilendra called his kingdom Odisha Rajya, references to Kalinga can be found in Vyasa’s Mahābhārata and later in various Puranas. Though Kalinga’s border altered over time, Odisha remains the most culturally representative part of that empire, which extended to Odia-speaking areas of present-day Bengal, Jharkhand, and Andhra Pradesh. Ancient Kalinga lost its freedom first to the Magadha king Maha Padma Nanda in the 4th century bce and later to Maurya king Ashoka in 261 bce in the Kalinga war. However, by the 1st century bce, Kalinga gained independence and became a powerful empire under Kharavela, who assumed the title “Chakravarti.” As Kalinga’s power waned, its territory shrank to the area between the Kapisha River (in West Bengal) and the Godavari, and later from the Mahanadi to the Godavari. While the kingdoms differed in shape, the major dynasties that ruled dominant parts of Kalinga were Sailodbhava (6th to 8th century ce), Bhaumakara (8th to 10th century ce), Keshari (late 9th to early 11th century ce), Eastern Ganga (11th to 15th century ce), and the Suryavamsi Gajapati kings (15th and 16th centuries ce). After being ruled for a brief period by the Bhoi dynasty, Odisha came under the rule of the Afghans and then the Mughals in the late 16th century, followed by the Marathas in the 18th century and the British in the early 19th century. It has thirty districts, with Bhubaneswar as its capital—the largest city, the seat of government, and itself an ancient center of religion. The state is predominantly Hindu but has a sizeable Muslim and Christian population as well as some distinct indigenous communities. It is also home to adherents to faiths such as Sikhism, Buddhism, Jainism, and practitioners of other indigenous forms of religion such as Mahima.

Four case studies are presented illustrating different attempts to protect excavated ancient mosaics by reburial or protective covering, with varying degrees of success, at three archaeological sites in Israel: Tel Itztaba, a site excavated between 1991 and 1994 where planning for reburial at the outset of the excavation could have prevented considerable losses; Khirbet Minya (Horvat Minim), a site excavated in the 1930s, reassessed after four years of reburial; the Promontory Palace at Caesarea Maritima, a site excavated in 1978, partially destroyed by the sea, reburied and regularly monitored since 1994; and an experimental test site at Caesarea Maritima. These examples demonstrate the importance of planning, monitoring and maintenance for successful reburial, and allow an assessment of which materials and methods performed better than others.

Genetic Evidence for the Expansion of Arabian Tribes into the Southern Levant and North Africa

The Herodian hippodrome/stadium at Caesarea was exposed between 1992 and 1998. It runs parallel to the shore between the Herodian harbour and the theatre, at the location specified by Josephus. Josephus refers to the structure as an amphitheatre but it is clear from him and from the archaeological evidence to be described below that equestrian events were an integral part of the games held in it. In the very late Republic and early Empire, the term amphitheatre was used indifferently to designate a stadium or a hippodrome rather than the traditional Roman oval amphitheatrum. Josephus also calls this building ‘the great stadium’ in conjunction with events at the time of the procurator Pontius Pilate in A.D. 26, and it was still known by that name in the 4th c. It was inaugurated in 10/9 B.C. The games held included athletics (gymnika), horse- and chariot-races (hippika), and Roman spectacles (munera gladiatorum and venationes), so the structure had to serve the needs of the contestants and spectators of all these events. The present article is a preliminary report that focuses on the carceres excavated by the team from the University of Haifa, but it will first be helpful to summarize the history of the building as a whole as known from the adjacent work by the Israel Antiquities Authority.

The article analyzes the ekphrasis of paintings as a subtype of ekphrasis. Having established the existence of the procedure in both Rome and India, and having looked at the historical-geographical framework for exchanges between these two ancient civilizations, it studies, on the Roman side, eight references to paintings in Plautus (3rd-2nd centuries BCE), and on the Sanskrit side, one in Bhāsa (3rd century CE), one in Śūdraka (4th century CE), three in Kālidāsa (5th century CE), two in Harṣa (7th century CE), two in Bhavabhūti (8th century CE) and one in Rājaśekhara (9th century CE). The purpose of the comparison is to support the hypothesis, advanced by Rodríguez-Adrados (2012), that cultural contact could have resulted in a possible influence from Roman theater into Sanskrit theater. Specifically, a borrowing from the ekphrasis of the painting in Terence’s (2nd century BCE) The Eunuch 583-591 into the ekphrasis of the painting in Bhāsa’s (3rd century CE) The Messenger’s Speech 6.15 - 12-6 is proposed. In conclusion, the plausibility of this supposed influence is argued.

In order to identify new crops in the 1st millennium ce in northern Italy, a complex and diversified territory, archaeobotanical macroremains from 155 sites dating between the 2nd century bce and 12th century ce were analysed. In more than half of the sites, taxa were encountered that had never previously been recorded from the area. The new crops are about 30, mainly (~ 70%) fruit plants in the broad sense, which have a clear peak in this time period. Based on the available data, the most prominent time for the introduction of new food plants (both imports and cultivars) seems to have been the Roman Imperial period (1st–2nd century ce), but also later, in Late Antiquity (3rd–6th century ce) and the Middle Ages (7th–12 century ce), there was no lack of new arrivals. Some fruit trees, such as Prunus persica (peach) and Pinus pinea (stone pine) immediately played an important role, and have continued to do so over time, as these are still grown in the area now.

A number of research projects in Petra and the surrounding region have resulted in exciting new avenues of study with regard to Nabataean religion, architecture, and economy. Reports concerning eight such projects were presented at the 46th Seminar for Arabian Studies held at the British Museum on 28–30 July 2011. The resulting published volume contains preliminary reports of a major archaeological survey north of Petra and excavations in the earliest levels of the Petra city center, in tomb complexes, and a royal residence of the first century BCE on the Umm al-Biyara. The work also includes a number of diverse thematic studies concerning Nabataean shrines located in the hinterland, the funerary landscape of Petra, and an examination of the date of the Incense Road between Petra and Gaza.In “Landscapes North of Petra: The Petra Area and Wādī Silaysil Survey,” it is evident that Brown University continues its tradition of ground-breaking research in the Petra region with the Brown University Petra Archaeological Project (BUPAP), directed by S. E. Alcock and C. A. Tuttle. A major component of the project is the Petra Area and Wādī Silaysil Survey (PAWS), directed by S. E. Alcock and A. R. Knodell. The intensive pedestrian survey has covered ca. 350 ha in the Bayda area north of Petra during the 2010 and 2011 seasons and has sought to identify settlement change by quantification of artifact distributions across the landscape (p. 7). The survey has revealed traces of human activity that reach back into the Paleolithic era (p. 8). Of particular interest is the discovery of Early Bronze Age material around Umm Saysaban, Iron II material in the vicinity of Bayda and east of Ras al-Silaysil, and Hellenistic remains near Ras al-Silaysil. The research indicates a marked increase in sherd density across the landscape in the Hellenistic period with a noticeable peak in the Early and Middle Roman periods between 50 BCE and 250 CE (p. 10). The intensive methodology and documentation efforts employed in the project are unparalleled in the region and will undoubtedly serve as a model for future endeavors here and elsewhere.A team of eminent archaeologists, S. G. Schmid, P. Bienkowski, Z. T. Fiema, and B. Kolb, led the search for the royal palaces in Petra in “The Palaces of the Nabataean Kings at Petra.” Their work resulted in the discovery of a royal residence on the Umm al-Biyara and a possible royal quarter (basileia) at the foot of al-Khubthah closer to the Petra city center. The residence was discovered on the eastern promontory of the Umm al-Biyara Plateau, overlooking the Petra city center. It was sumptuous with heated bathing facilities, alatrine, Nabataean capitals, marble sculptures, and traces of opus sectile decoration. The discovery of this type of mountain-top palatial residence in Petra allows comparisons with the Hasmonean and Herodian palaces in neighboring Judea and particularly Herod's Northern Palace at Masada (Netzer 1991).Masada and Umm al-Biyara both share the problem of water procurement in a dry inhospitable landscape. At Petra, the Nabataean builders took advantage of natural topographical features by constructing cisterns on the natural catchment of a slope directly above the residence (p. 77). The date of the construction (late first century BCE to early first century CE) suggests the influence of Herodian architecture; although it is noted that the residence shares features found at other Judean sites as well (pp. 84–85). The researchers propose that the structure was destroyed in the earthquake of 363 CE on the basis of lamp fragments found on a floor surface. However, more extensive excavation is required to determine if the structure was damaged or destroyed by earthquake in the early second century CE (see Kolb 2002: 261; 2007: 167; Kanellopoulos 2001: 13) or if it continued to be occupied as late as the fourth century CE. The proposed basileia below the Khubthah Massif requires even more investigation. The researchers place a great deal of emphasis on the availability of water provided by the al-Khubthah aqueduct and the water catchment of the massif. They also propose that the so-called Palace Tomb may have been a royal tomb (heroon) inside the basileia similar to those found in other Hellenistic royal quarters (p. 93). The possibility that a tomb was intentionally situated inside an inhabited area stands in stark contrast with the necropoleis of Petra, which are situated outside of the inhabited areas of the city center.In “Dating the Early Phases under the Temenos of the Qasr al-Bint at Petra,” the excavations in the Petra city center next to the Qasr al-Bint conducted by the French Archaeological Expedition, including F. Renel, M. Mouton C. Augé, C. Gauthier, C. Hatté, J.-F. Saliège, and A. Zazzo, are examined. The project has provided a major contribution to our knowledge of the earliest phases of Nabataean settlement at the site. Their research points to occupational levels as early as the fourth century BCE and the construction of dwellings in the third century BCE. This early dating is supported by calibrated radio carbon dates, as well as ceramic and numismatic evidence (pp. 50–51). The French expedition, together with the results of excavations carried out below the main street further to the east by P. Parr (1970; 2007) and D. F. Graf (2013 and Graf et al. 2005), provide evidence that offsets previous interpretations regarding the nature of early Nabataean society. Such views were influenced by a widespread reliance on the testimony of Hieronymous of Cardia (312/311 BCE), quoted by Diodorus Siculus, who claimed that the Nabataeans were nomads who abhorred any form of settlement (Dio. Sic. 19.94.10; cf. 2.48.1–2).Wenning and Gorgerat discuss the excavation of a chamber tomb and adjacent complex next to the Aslah Triclinium, located on high ground opposite the opening to the Siq, described as the Bab al-Siq necropolis in “The International Aslah Project, Petra: New Research and New Questions.” The project area is of particular importance due to a Nabataean inscription found on the back wall of the triclinium, which is considered to be the oldest dated inscription in Petra: ca. 96/95 BCE. The excavation has revealed a number of issues succinctly treated by Wenning. In spite of the date of the inscription, which includes a reference to the existence of a nearby cistern, the burials in the tomb and the complex in front appear to have been carved nearly a century later, toward the end of the first century BCE or early first century CE, and remains continued to be interred until at least the beginning of the second century CE. This discrepancy has prompted Wenning to examine the function and significance of Nabataean sanctuaries, such as triclinia, within the framework of G. Dalman's assumption that the Aslah Triclinium Complex belonged to a clan (Dalman 1912: 100). Wenning points out that rock-cut installations at Petra in the form of triclinia, biclinia, and stibadia are not necessarily found in relation to burials and in fact less than a quarter of these installations have been found in such contexts (p. 137). He regards the Aslah Trinclinium Complex as a sanctuary devoted to Dushara that belonged to a particular clan. The complex included the triclinium and its inscription, as well as incised symbols of the deity, a niche basin for purification, cup-holes that may have been used for libations, and votive niches, which includes an entire row of 18 niches located near the triclinium.Gorgerat's excavation in the deep pit graves inside the chamber tomb produced an impressive group of 30 ceramic unguentaria recovered from one grave (p. 129). These vessels have since been published (Gorgerat and Wenning 2013: Fig. 14) and they appear to belong to the latest types of ceramic unguentaria produced in the area from the post-annexation period until the early third century CE.Lucy Wadeson's contribution, “The Funerary Landscape of Petra: Results from a New Study,” deals with the influence of geology and topography on tomb architecture, important factors that have largely been overlooked. She devotes a better part of the chapter to the large numbers of shaft tombs in Petra. For obvious reasons, tombs with carved decorative façades have been studied intensely at the expense of plain shaft graves, which are nearly invisible in the landscape. Wadeson discusses the chronology of the shaft tombs in relation to the development of the façade tombs, noting that a number were apparently converted into façade tombs, thus pre-dating the better known type (p. 114). Overall, shaft tombs were probably the most common form of Nabataean burial. At least 3,500 examples were located east of the Dead Sea in Khirbet Qazone, where they were dated to the first three centuries CE (Politis and Cline 1999). Moreover, the use of shaft tombs is not restricted to the Nabataeans; they were also utilized by the Jewish inhabitants of Qumran in the first and second centuries CE. In both cemeteries the graves are oriented north–south (Magness 2004: 119). Wadeson also discusses the possibility that the façade-type tombs developed out of the earlier block tombs that are found next to the eastern and southern approaches to Petra (p. 105). The development of the façade-type tombs appear to have been strongly influenced by Alexandrian tomb architecture that Nabataean artisans skillfully adapted to the extreme geology and topography of Petra (pp. 108–9).The Finnish Jabal Hārūn Project completed several seasons of excavations that uncovered a Byzantine-period monastery below the peak of Jabal Hārūn (Fiema and Frösén 2008). In his article, “Reinventing the Sacred: From Shrine to Monastery at Jabal Hārūn,” Fiema proposes that part of the Western Building that was the core of the complex may have originally been part of an earlier Nabataean shrine. In view of the religious significance of this highly visible peak in the Byzantine and Islamic periods, the existence of a Nabataean cultic shrine here is quite reasonable. Needless to say, mountain-top shrines and temples are found throughout Nabataean-controlled regions in the Sinai, the Negev, the Edomite plateau, and Petra itself. Fiema discusses the circumstances that a pagan shrine may have given way to a Christian site that venerated the biblical figure of Aaron, brother of the prophet Moses. He points out that the transition from paganism to Christianity at the site may not have been particularly violent and may have even been possible by the natural destruction of an earlier shrine during the earthquake of 363 CE (p. 33).Marie-Jeanne Roche offers an intriguing contribution entitled “A Nabataean Shrine to Isis in Wādī Abū Ullayqah in the South-West of Petra.” She examines an important shrine dedicated to the goddess Isis, who is depicted as a seated Demeter-type figure (now headless) beautifully carved in a sandstone outcrop. Roche proposes that the shrine may be identified as one described in the Oxyrhynchus Invocation of Isis, “in Petra, [Isis] is called soteira (‘saviour’)….” (p. 68). The area around the statue exhibits possible cultic installations: a natural basin under a waterfall; Nabataean inscriptions, including two that refer to the goddess Isis; and engraved drawings of feet. Two betyls, one an eye-idol, and more inscriptions are present in a second location beyond the waterfall (pp. 58–59). Roche notes that the Nabataean spelling of the name Isis corresponds to the Egyptian rather than its Greek equivalent (p. 61), a fact that appears to underline the direct ties between Petra and Egypt that go back to the beginning of the Hellenistic period. Nearly 150 Nabataean names are found in the descriptions along with common Nabataean formulas, dkr, “to remember,” and slm, “peace.” Notably, these formulas continue to appear in late Nabataean inscriptions, including those written in ink on plaster (by the plasterer himself) that were uncovered in sealed contexts from the late fourth century at Oboda (Erickson-Gini 2010: 185, Fig. 7.5). The dedication of a physician (p. 64) ties in with Roche's supposition that the site was a healing shrine where flowing water was an important component. According to Roche, this may be an element that was shared with the Nabataean deity, Dushara, whose name appears several times in inscriptions at the site in the form of al-Ga (p. 59).Haim Ben-David's contribution, “Nabataean or Late Roman? Reconsidering the Date of the Built Sections and Milestones along the Petra–Gaza Road,” discusses the phasing of the ancient Incense Road that stretched across the Wadi Arabah to the Mediterranean coast. His work is significant because all too often the Incense Road is treated as a monolithic single-period entity whereas in actuality it was developed over centuries, first by the Nabataeans and later under Roman rule. Ben-David points out that section between Petra and Oboda, originally established in the late first century BCE, underwent changes following the Roman annexation of Nabataea in 106 CE. Toward the end of the second century CE, Roman military tower forts were built at a number of sites and milestones were erected (p. 19). In the wake of the results of Andrew Smith's surveys and excavations in the eastern side of the Wadi Arabah (2010), Ben-David proposes that the Petra–Gaza Road may be identified in the Petra region as following the Naqb al-Rubai route (the limestone ridge south of Jabal Hārūn) and northwest to Khirbet Sufaysif and Moyat ‘Awad (pp. 21–22). The Petra side of the Incense Road also exhibits phases from more than one historical period and portions of the leg from Naqb al-Rubai to the Petra city center appear to have been developed by the Roman army in the post-annexation era.To conclude, the papers from the special session of the Seminar for Arabian Studies in 2011 make up a unique collection of important and interesting studies of the archaeology of Petra and the culture of the Nabataeans. This collection is an indispensable acquisition for scholars and laymen alike. Drs. Nehmé and Wadeson are to be commended for producing a quality volume in such a timely manner following the conference.