Brun Et Al - 2018 - The Eastern Desert of Egypt During The Greco-Roman Period

Collège de France
The Eastern Desert of Egypt during the Greco-

Roman Period: Archaeological Reports
Jean-Pierre Brun, Thomas Faucher, Bérangère Redon et al. (ed.)
DOI: 10.4000/books.cdf.5230
Publisher: Collège de France
Place of publication: Paris
Year of publication: 2018
Publication date: 14 septembre 2018
Series: Institut des civilisations
Digital ISBN: 978-2-7226-0488-9
https://books.openedition.org
Print edition
Provided by University of California, Berkeley
DIGITAL REFERENCE
Brun, Jean-Pierre, et al., editors. The Eastern Desert of Egypt During the Greco-Roman Period:
Archaeological Reports. Collège de France, 2018, https://doi.org/10.4000/books.cdf.5230.
This text was automatically generated on 19 juin 2024.
The PDF format is issued under the Licence OpenEdition Books unless otherwise stated.
The ePub format is issued under the Licence OpenEdition Books unless otherwise stated.
EXCERPT
The Eastern Desert of Egypt extends over a vast area of mountains and sandy plains between the
Nile and the Red Sea. Its natural riches –gold, gems and high quality stones (such as granite from
Mons Claudianus, Tiberianè or Ophiatès, porphyry from Porphyritès, basanites [greywacke] from
the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, etc.)– have, despite the difficulties due to harsh climatic conditions,
been exploited since the Predynastic period. The Pharaohs, the Ptolemies and the Roman
emperors often sent expeditions to extract these minerals and stones.
The desert was also a passageway for all sorts of traffic coming from countries bordering the Red
Sea and the Indian Ocean. Expeditions and commercial activities, which started from time of the
Old Kingdom, greatly expanded during the Ptolemaic and Roman periods. Trade focused on
spices initially, fragrant resins and gems, then in the Roman period, on a wide range of exotic
products including pearls, precious stones, fabrics, etc.
The archaeological sites of this region were practically inaccessible for logistical reasons until
recently and they were, until now, exceptionally well preserved. Between the late 1970’s and
2012, American, English, Italian and French teams were able to explore or search hundreds of
sites, significantly improving our understanding of gold mining under the Ptolemies and the
Byzantine emperors, granite and porphyry quarries opened by the Roman emperors, and trade
with Arabia and India through the ports of Myos Hormos and Berenike…
EDITOR’S NOTE
This book comes from a colloquium held at the Collège de France in Paris on March 30th
and 31st, 2016.
Its objective was to take stock of the archaeological work of the last forty years by
bringing together all the invited field actors to present a synthesis of their research on
the occupation and exploitation of the Ptolemaic desert at the end of theByzantine
period.
Caption cover image: The Roman fort of Dios, 2nd-3rd century AD
© J.-P. Brun
JEAN-PIERRE BRUN (ED.)

Professor at the Collège de France, Chair of "Techniques and Economies of the Ancient
Mediterranean"
THOMAS FAUCHER (ED.)

CNRS researcher, IRAMAT-CEB, UMR 5060 Orléans
BÉRANGÈRE REDON (ED.)

CNRS researcher, HiSoMA, UMR 5189 Lyon
STEVEN SIDEBOTHAM (ED.)

Professor of Ancient History at Delaware University (United States)
1
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction
Jean-Pierre Brun, Thomas Faucher, Bérangère Redon and Steven Sidebotham
Coptos, Gate to the Eastern Desert

Laure Pantalacci
A city connected to the desert and the Red Sea
The Hellenistic presence in Coptos
The Romans in Coptos
The beginnings of the Principate
Coptos in the second and third centuries AD
The Control of the Eastern Desert by the Ptolemies: New Archaeological Data
Bérangère Redon
Surveys and excavations of the French mission in Samut
Samut North and gold mining in the Eastern Desert under Ptolemy, son of Lagos
Bi'r Samut and the development of the desert roads under Ptolemy II and III
Conclusion
Ptolemaic Gold: the Exploitation of Gold in the Eastern Desert

Thomas Faucher
Geological, geographical and chronological context
The forms of exploitation of gold quartz in the Eastern Desert
The production of gold
Quantification and Provenance Studies of Egyptian Gold
Dissemination of the gold of the Eastern Desert
Conclusion
A Survey of Place-Names in the Egyptian Eastern Desert during the Principate according to
the Ostraca and the Inscriptions
Hélène Cuvigny
I. The Administrative districts of the Eastern Desert under the Early Roman Empire
II. Analytical classification of Greek and Latin toponyms
III. Metalla
IV. Latomiai: quarry names of Mons Claudianus
V. Forts and fortlets (praesidia)
VI. Wells (hydreumata)
VII. Roads
VIII. Ports of the Red Sea
IX. Unidentified topographic features
X. Conclusion
Chronology of the Forts of the Routes to Myos Hormos and Berenike during the Graeco-
Roman Period
Jean-Pierre Brun
Under the Ptolemies
The situation during the Julio-Claudian dynasty
During the Flavian and the Antonine periods
During the Severan dynasty
From Gallienus to Zenobia
Under Diocletian and his successors
Late Antiquity
The Eastern Desert of Egypt during the Greco-Roman Period: Archaeological Reports
2
The Fortlets of the Eastern Desert of Egypt

Michel Reddé
The plan
Internal improvements
Conclusion
Quarries with Subtitles

Adam Bülow-Jacobsen
Some Topographical Problems around Myos Hormos: Philotera-Philoteris

Wilfried Van Rengen
The Italian Archaeological Mission in the Eastern Desert: First Results from the Area of Wâdi
Gasus
Irene Bragantini, Giulio Lucarini, Andrea Manzo and Rosanna Pirelli
Scope and goals of the project
The 'Graeco-Roman Station'
Religious activity in the area
The ‘saggars’
Middle Kingdom and Nubian Pottery from the 'Graeco-Roman Station'
Final remarks
Gold mining site
Recent human activities in the area
Diachronic human activity along the wâdis: from the Middle Stone Age to the Classical period
Site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’
Survey - Wâdi Gasus, Wâdi Gawasis, Wâdi Safaga, Wâdi Wasif
The Pharaonic inscriptions of Wâdi Gasus in context
First group of Pharaonic inscriptions: the Middle Kingdom “stelae”
Second group of Pharaonic inscriptions: a Pharaonic “Paneion”?
Third group of Pharaonic inscriptions: area of the lead mine
The Exploitation of Animals in the Roman Praesidia on the Routes to Myos Hormos and to
Berenike: on Food, Transport and Craftsmanship
Martine Leguilloux
1. Archaeological contexts
2. Provisioning the Eastern Desert
3. Managing shortages: self supply (hunting and fishing) and local livestock
4. Food as a cultural marker
Roman Life in the Eastern Desert of Egypt: Food, Imperial Power and Geopolitics
Marijke Van der Veen, Charlène Bouchaud, René Cappers and Claire Newton
Introduction
Background
The botanical evidence
Preservation
What did they eat?
Access to luxuries
Vegetable gardens
Animal fodder
Indian trade: pepper and other exotics
Changing worlds
Discussion
Conclusion
Acknowledgements
3
Fuelwood and Wood Supplies in the Eastern Desert of Egypt during Roman Times
Charlène Bouchaud, Claire Newton, Marijke Van der Veen and Caroline Vermeeren
Introduction
The data
Uses
Economic and environmental dynamics
Summary and conclusion
Aknowledgements
Textiles from Mons Claudianus, ‘Abu Sha’ar and other Roman Sites in the Eastern Desert.
Lise Bender Jørgensen
Mons Claudianus
‘Abu Sha’ar
Comparing ‘Abu Sha’ar and Mons Claudianus
Comparing sites from the Eastern Desert
Acknowledgements
Textile Contrasts at Berenike

Felicity Wild and John Peter Wild
Acknowledgements
Pottery from the Wâdi al-Hammâmât. Contexts and Chronology (Excavations of the Institut
français d’archéologie orientale 1987-1989)
Pascale Ballet
Quarries, Ports and Praesidia: Supply and Exchange in the Eastern Desert
Roberta Tomber
Introduction
The construction of a dated typology for the Eastern Desert: key deposits
A selection of key ceramic markers for the Eastern Desert
Assemblage comparison
Desert routes and desert supplies
Acknowledgements
Port of Myos Hormos and its Relations to Indo-Roman Trade

Dr. Lucy Blue
Overview of Fieldwork at Berenike 1994-2015

Steven E. Sidebotham
1. Hydraulic installations
2. Military presence
3. Religious structures/other evidence
4. Funerary remains
5. Industrial/commercial activities
6. Residential structures
7. Maritime activities
8. Evidence for food procurement/storage
9. Trash dumps
10. Animal burials
Conclusion
The Great Temple of Berenike

Martin Hense
Introduction
Early research in the temple
Berenike project
Conclusion
Berenike in Light of Inscriptions, Ostraca, and Papyri

Rodney Ast
4
Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir: Gold Mining in Byzantine Times in the Eastern Desert
Carol Meyer
Documentary and Literary News on Clysma

Jean Gascou
I- P.Oxy. XVI 1905 (Clysma during the 4th century AD)
II- SB V 7756 and the nautai of India
III- Other sources on Byzantine Clysma
The Eastern Desert in Late Antiquity

Jean-Luc Fournet
1. Eremitic monasticism
2. Saracens, Blemmyes and other travellers
3. Exploitation of natural resources
5
Introduction
Jean-Pierre Brun, Thomas Faucher, Bérangère Redon and Steven
Sidebotham
1 The Eastern Desert of Egypt extends over a vast area of mountains and sandy plains
between the Nile and the Red Sea. Its natural riches –gold, gems and high quality stones
(such as granite from Mons Claudianus, Tiberianè or Ophiatès, porphyry from
Porphyritès, basanites [greywacke] from the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, etc.)– have, despite
the difficulties due to harsh climatic conditions, been exploited since the Predynastic
period. The Pharaohs, the Ptolemies and the Roman emperors often sent expeditions to
extract these minerals and stones.
2 The desert was also a passageway for all sorts of traffic coming from countries
bordering the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean. Expeditions and commercial activities,
which started from time of the Old Kingdom, greatly expanded during the Ptolemaic
and Roman periods. Trade focused on spices initially, fragrant resins and gems, then in
the Roman period, on a wide range of exotic products including pearls, precious stones,
fabrics, etc.
3 The archaeological sites of this region were practically inaccessible for logistical
reasons until recently and they were, until now, exceptionally well preserved. Between
the late 1970’s and 2012, American, English, Italian and French teams were able to
explore or search hundreds of sites, significantly improving our understanding of gold
mining under the Ptolemies and the Byzantine emperors, granite and porphyry
quarries opened by the Roman emperors, and trade with Arabia and India through the
ports of Myos Hormos and Berenike.
4 This phase of archaeological research ends in chaos because most of the archaeological
sites are, since 2012, in danger of mass destruction by gold prospectors. Equipped with
excavators, bulldozers and metal detectors, they systematically destroy ancient sites in
the illusory hope of discovering treasures.1
5 In order to present the state of our knowledge about the history of this region, a
conference was organized at the Collège de France in Paris on March 30th and 31st
2016. Taking stock of the archaeological works of the last forty years, the goal was to
6
bring together all field archaeologists to present a synthesis of their research on the
occupation and exploitation of the desert from the Ptolemaic to the Byzantine periods.
6 The oral presentations and screenings can be downloaded from the Collège de France
website [http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-brun/
symposium-2015-2016.htm]. But the researchers working in these fields also wanted to
present bilingual French and English written versions of most of the lectures. The aim
is to direct readers, especially archaeologists, historians, students and amateurs,
towards more specialized studies, that provide indepth analysis of the topics through
illustrations and bibliographies.
7 The reader will find here, in full text, syntheses on ports, whose role was essential to
desert trade (Koptos, Clysma, Myos Hormos and Berenike), on mines and quarries
(Samût, Mons Claudianus, Porphyritès), on the networks of Ptolemaic and Roman
military posts established along the caravan tracks to Berenike and Myos Hormos, on
the plant environment, on the supply of military posts in the desert as well as on the
clothes and dishes used by the occupants of the excavated sites.
8 This journey through the desert begins at Koptos, the traditional gateway to the desert.
Laure Pantalacci retraces history and archaeology from the Predynastic times to the
end of antiquity. Then, following the caravan tracks from Apollonos Polis (Edfu) to
Berenike, Bérangère Redon clarifies the chronology of the Ptolemaic road network. In
addition to the strategic role played by these tracks for conveying war elephants
hunted in East Africa, they served many mines: Thomas Faucher shows that mining,
intermittent since Pharaonic times, enjoyed a renewal from the first Ptolemy,
particularly at Samût Nord and Bi'r Samût where mining facilities were recently
unearthed (galleries, crushing areas, forges, mills, mills, oven, sluices, basins).
9 These tracks joined the ports from the Red Sea: the most important and best known are
Myos Hormos, Nechesia and especially Berenike. This latter port, the best placed from a
sailing point of view because of the monsoon, has been extensively surveyed and
excavated by teams led by Steven Sidebotham who gives here a synthesis of the current
state of our knowledge. This Hellenistic port city of the Roman Empire city is analysed,
with its ramparts and temples, and dense commercial activity demonstrated through
its shipyards, its official buildings and surrounding forts. In late antiquity it has multi-
storey merchant houses, pagan temples and a Christian church. This presentation is
complemented by an article specifically on the Great Temple of Berenike whose
historiography is explored by Martin Hense along with its architecture and evolution.
Berenike provided many inscriptions on stone and documents on ostraca which Rodney
Ast summarises, focussing on cults and the commercial activities of the port city. Iwona
Zych’s presentation of the funerary practices of the inhabitants of the city completes
this picture of Berenike [http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-brun/
symposium-2016-03-31-15h00.htm].
10 The port of Myos Hormos, founded also in the Ptolemaic period, is the subject of a
resumé of the excavations carried out by the late David Peacock and Lucie Blue.
Wilfried Van Rengen, relying on papyrological documentation, offers an overview of
the toponymy of the surroundings of Myos Hormos that raises several historical
problems, in particular connected with the cult of Philotera, which was relatively
widespread in this region.
7
11 In a vast synthesis, Hélène Cuvigny studies the toponymy of the Eastern Desert during
the Graeco-Roman period: all place names are discussed using inscriptions and
documents on ostraca discovered in the desert sites. Quarries, mines, and way stations
are precisely located and dated: desert life comes alive through its period names and its
actors. Thus we know how Roman fortresses situated along the tracks were named;
Jean-Pierre Brun presents the different phases of their implementation, of their
completion and of their decommissioning between the time of Augustus and Late
Antiquity.
12 The enormous quantity of ostraca uncovered at Mons Claudianus (about 8000 ostraca)
help us to understand how these quarries worked: Adam Bulow-Jacobsen teaches us the
technical vocabulary, the functions of the different professions as well as methods for
extracting blocks and forging tools. We can complete this panorama with Valerie
Maxfield’s synthesis on the quarries of Mons Claudianus and Porphyritès, well known
thanks to the explorations and excavations conducted in collaboration with David
Peacock in the 1980s and 1990s [http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-
brun/symposium-2016-03-30-14h30.htm].
13 In a coastal area north of Safaga, a team from the University of Naples “L’Orientale”
surveyed the Wadi Gasus area; the report written by Irene Bragantini, Giulio Lucarini,
Andrea Manzo, Rosanna Pirelli presents the historic potential of this sector, which
unfortunately was recently ravaged by looting and acts of vandalism.
14 The archaeological remains give a counterpoint to the papyrological documentation,
nuancing it from other points of view and filling documentary gaps. Michel Reddé
details the architecture of the Roman forts, including their barracks, their sanctuaries,
their baths and their facilities (wells, cisterns, praetoria, granaries, stables). John Peter
and Felicity Wild present the textile fragments found at Berenike, showing the
proportions of imported fabrics from India and from the Nile Valley from the
Hellenistic period up to the Late Antique period. Lise Bender Jørgensen lists weaving
techniques and observes changing modes of clothing during the Roman Empire relying
on the huge corpora of fabrics discovered at Myos Hormos, Mons Claudianus,
Porphyrites and 'Abu Sha'r. The picture can also be supplemented by the oral
presentation of Dominique Cardon on the fragments of clothing discovered in the fort
of Didymoi [http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-brun/
15 The food supply of the soldiers and workers who used to live in these extreme
conditions of aridity are known thanks to the studies of plants, including seeds, by
Marijke Van der Veen, Charlene Bouchaud, René Cappers and Claire Newton, while the
study of animal bones by Martine Leguilloux informs us about the consumption of
meat, especially pigs, camels and donkeys during the Early Roman Empire, as opposed
to sheep and goats during Late Antiquity. The supply of fuel for cooking and heating
rooms and baths can be retraced by analysing samples of wood and other plants studied
by Charlene Bouchaud, Claire Newton, Marijke Van der Veen and Caroline Vermeeren.
16 The study on ceramics found on the sites is twofold: on the one hand, vessels constitute
chronological markers, the most abundant discovered on surveys and excavations; on
the other hand, they provide information on official supply and private trade, including
imports from Arabia, India and Axoum. Jennifer Foster-Gates gave an oral presentation
on Hellenistic ceramics [http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-brun/
symposium-2016-03-31-10h45.htm]. Roberta Tomber offers here a synthesis on the
8
ceramics of the Roman period. Pascale Ballet publishes the objects uncovered during
excavations carried out in 1987 and 1989 in workers’ dwellings grouped around a small
sanctuary dedicated to Min in the Wâdi al-Hammâmât.
17 The nature of the occupation the Eastern Desert changes during Late Antiquity. eastern
trade restarts at Berenike in the 4th century, but the caravan routes previously marked
and guarded by the army are not commonly used anymore. Imported goods travel
through capillary ways using in particular small boats that could sail northbound,
despite the dominant winds, up to Clysma in the Gulf of Suez. This military site, which,
since the time of elephant hunting, played an essential role as a port of departure for
journeys across the Eritrean Sea, is gaining importance, and new readings of some
papyri proposed by Jean Gascou confirm the eminent role of the port of Clysma in the
Byzantine era. Other parameters change: the emperors still exploit the quarries of
porphyry (until the beginning of the 5th century) and they decide to reopen the gold
mines of the Wâdi al-Fawākhir. The work led by Carol Meyer dates this reopening of
mining operations to the 5th century; during almost half a century, miners are sent
there to extract gold that the Emperors vitally need; they build hundreds of
rudimentary dwellings that have been mapped and partly excavated. Other newcomers,
the anchorites, had even more basic shelters: Jean-Luc Fournet reminds us of the
motivations of these eremitic settlements which experienced vicissitudes particularly
in relation to movements of the nomadic Blemmyes populations.
18 With the end of the exploitation of the Wâdi al-Fawākhir gold mines, the abandonment
of the hermitages for the benefit of some big monasteries, the desertion of Berenike
towards the middle of the 6th century, the decadence of trade with the Far East, and
the ravages of the 6th century plague, there is a break in the history of the Eastern
Desert. Other than some very special sites like the monasteries of Saint Anthony and
Saint Paul, the city is abandoned to the hostile environment and nomads who know
how to deal with it. One page is turned.
FOOTNOTES
1. See Brun J.-P. 2018. “Dans le désert Oriental d’Égypte : d’un état de préservation exceptionnel
à la destruction totale des sites archéologiques”. In Patrimoine partagé ou patrimoine à usage
identitaire, Fournet J.-L., Mouton J.-M., Paviot J. (ed.), Byblos, CISH, pp. 143-166.
AUTHORS
Jean-Pierre Brun
ORCID: 0000-0001-8615-2061
Professor at the Collège de France, Chair of Techniques and Economies in the Ancient
Mediterranean
9
Thomas Faucher
Researcher CNRS, IRAMAT-CEB, UMR 5060 Orléans
Bérangère Redon
Researcher at CNRS, HiSoMA, UMR 5189 Lyon
Steven Sidebotham
Professor of Ancient History at Delaware University (USA)
10
Coptos, Gate to the Eastern Desert

Laure Pantalacci
1 This conference demonstrates the vitality of research in the Eastern Desert and along
the Red Sea coast in recent decades. Yet, our knowledge of Coptos, the subject of early
excavations, remains incomplete. One could speak of “the invisible capital” of Upper
Egypt, outshone by nearby Thebes. In museums and in the field, its monuments,
scattered both through time and space, give only a faint idea of the grandeur and
wealth of the city over four millennia.
2 Despite the intensity of the human destruction in the second half of the nineteenth
century and the first quarter of the twentieth, excavations begun in 2002, now under
the aegis of the University Lumière Lyon 2 and IFAO, have produced new data on the
site from the Hellenistic and Roman periods. When complemented by the abundant
information from desert sites, our Coptos excavations contribute to the history of the
communication network that, across Egypt, connected the Indian Ocean to the Roman
world.
A city connected to the desert and the Red Sea

3 At the dawn of Egyptian history, the city was located on a major road between the Nile
Valley and the Red Sea via the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, which also gave access to various
types of mineral wealth, either local or imported. It has been suggested that the sign of
a small cloth bag that appears in the hieroglyphic spelling of the name of the city,
Gbtjw, referred to the collection of precious minerals in the Eastern Desert.1 The New
Kingdom texts speak of “the gold from the Coptos gebel”.2 In Roman times, the name
Coptos was regularly associated with the bitumen used for mummification,3 and with
galena.4
4 Contacts between Coptos and the Red Sea are attested by the end of the fourth
millennium BC, on very impressive, though now fragmentary, monuments: three
colossal statues of the god Min, which were found by Petrie in the favissae inside the
temenos of this god5 (Fig. 1). Some shells whose images are engraved on the thighs of
11
these giants can only have come from the Red Sea,6 whose resources were, therefore,
known by the Coptites.
Fig. 1
The colossi of Min at the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.

© L. Pantalacci, J.-P. Brun
5 Besides, the production of these colossal statues indicates a developed, organized and
unique community, rich in human and technical resources. They are the most visible
archaeological evidence (almost the only one, due to the lack of evidence for pre-
dynastic cemeteries or dwellings) of the importance of the site in the second half of the
fourth millennium BC. But centuries later, while the large pre-dynastic power centres
of Upper Egypt (e.g. Ombos and Naqada, just a few kilometers from Coptos) diminished,
the Old Kingdom pharaohs endowed Coptos with sanctuaries that emphasized its
importance7 and in the course of the Old Kingdom Min became a figure of the national
pantheon.8 Access to mines and quarries in the Eastern Desert, and perhaps already
trade with the East, are a likely explanation for this importance.
6 The appearance of the poliad divinity of Coptos remained unchanged throughout its
history: an ithyphallic aspect unique in divine iconography.9 Min was also original in
that he was always depicted standing on a pedestal or on a staircase, and was often
followed by the representation of a cylindrical hut built around a central pole. Among
several interpretations of this strange feature, it has been suggested that the hut was a
house from the land of Punt.10 Later, in the Ptolemaic texts, the foreign character of the
god was expressed by various geographical epithets such as “the Medjay”, “the Punt
Hunter” or sr bj3yt n Pwnt (“the one who sees from afar the precious products of Punt”).
11 Let us briefly discuss these terms.
12
7 The Medjay, a nomadic population of the Eastern Desert, are attested in the pharaonic
sources by the end of the third millennium. They were probably the ancestors of the
current Beja, who are now divided into several groups with distinct languages.12 In the
late third and early second millennium, they lived in the Eastern Desert of Lower Nubia
and southern Egypt. Limited textual sources present them as nomadic herders, also
trading with the Egyptians, or as mercenaries serving the chiefs of the nomes in
southern Egypt.13 In addition to these references in the written documentation, some
scholars have traditionally attributed to them circular graves (referred to as “Pan-
graves”) from small cemeteries at the edge of the desert between the third Nile cataract
and Middle Egypt, dating from the thirteenth to the eighteenth Dynasties (ca. 1750 to
1500 BC).14 For these or other nomads living in the desert east and southeast of the
Valley, Coptos, simply because of its geographical position, has always been one of the
major trade centres along the Valley. At the end of the first century BC, Strabo (XVII, 1,
44) said that the city was κοινὴν Αἰγυπτίων τε καὶ Ἀράβων “shared by Egyptians and
Arabs”, an assertion corroborated by documentation.15
8 The location of Punt, which the Egyptians also called the “Country of God”, is still
debated by researchers: some believe it was a region in Arabia, while others place it on
the coast of Sudan or Eritrea.16 In any case, it must have been one of the coastal areas of
the Red Sea, south-east of Egypt, which could be reached by boat. One of the itineraries
to Punt left from Coptos17 to rejoin, via the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, one of the
“intermittent ports” on the coast.18 Mentioned regularly in the pharaonic texts of the
fifth to twentieth Dynasty, the Punt region supplied Egypt mainly with incense and
other aromatic products. The famous reliefs of the “Punt portico” in the funerary
temple of queen Hatshepsut at Deir el-Bahari depict an Egyptian expedition sent by the
queen to procure, besides these odoriferous products, gold and electrum, and incense
trees plants to acclimatise in Egypt.19
9 If the sources are scarce during the first millennium, a period of political fragmentation
in Egypt, Coptos and its god Min continued to look to the East. A late epithet of the god,
in a demotic document from the Persian period (P. dem. Caire 30799 vso), even calls
him the “Lord of Hgr”.20
The Hellenistic presence in Coptos

10 In modern Coptos, the most numerous and best preserved archaeological remains are
later than Alexander's conquest. Within the perimeter of the great Nectanebo precinct,
21 today heavily destroyed, the stages of architectural development can be seen mainly
or exclusively in the temples and their enclosures (Fig. 2): a sanctuary of Min and Isis
with a double axis to the north, and to the south the Netjery-shema, which encloses the
remains of several buildings. From the first Ptolemies onward, the close correlation
between monumental programmes in Coptos and the development stages of the roads
shows that the city was an essential part of the trading system of the Eastern Desert.
Fig. 2
13
Chronological map of the religious center.

© Coptos Mission: D. Laisney/C. Gobeil
11 The first of the Ptolemies, Soter I, is only mentioned in the Coptos region in a few
textual or iconographic sources.22 By contrast, the scholars have long since recognised
that Ptolemy II Philadelphus (283-246 BC) made considerable investments in the
development, for various purposes, of roads in the Eastern Desert and particularly of
ports along the coast of the Red Sea, in Egypt and beyond.23 At the same time, the main
temple of Coptos, dedicated to Min and Isis, was rebuilt and extended to the west.
Remaining from the time of Philadelphus are the foundations of the inner temple, built
on a high platform accessible from the west by several staircases, as well as the third
gate on the axis of Isis, and probably the twin gates opened in the western facade wall.24
But the most important works took place in the southern part of the site, designated as
the “southern sanctuary”, in Egyptian Netjery-shema. Today these works are only
attested in the long inscription of the first Arsinoë's attendant, the Greek Zeno,
mistakenly called “Sennousheri” by Petrie.25 The southern sector, where still stands a
doorjamb of the temple of Geb built by Nectenabo II, one of the last native pharaohs,
was occupied during his reign by several elite tombs.26 Connected with Osirian places of
worship located further south, the Netjery-shema seems to have been more active and
more important at that time than the great temple. In the same area, the shrine called
“Castle of provisions”, Ḥut-djefau, was renovated under the supervision of Zeno. He
raised the ground level, completed its enclosure and erected monumental doors made
of precious materials.27
12 Zeno also worked extensively in the nearby town of Qus, which he furnished with new
monuments.28 His major investment in the architecture at Qus, which eventually
replaced Coptos as the head of the Upper Egyptian trade network several centuries
later, may be due to purely private circumstances. But it could also indicate that this
14
city already played a certain role at that time in the traffic between the Nile Valley and
the Red Sea.
13 The evidence for activity on the desert roads in the third century BC is scarce. 29 The
number of imported ceramics in the Coptos assemblages of this period mainly
demonstrates regular exchanges with the Mediterranean, unattested elsewhere in
Upper Egypt,30 which might suggest the existence of wider exchange networks. Be that
as it may, monumental activity continued in Coptos, but on a more modest scale. Petrie
found a fragmentary statue of Ptolemy III.31 The mammisi of Ptolemy IV, recently
identified,32 may reflect a peculiar devotion of this king to Harpocrates (Horus-the-
child), to whom he also dedicated a shrine in the Serapeum of Alexandria.33 One can
also see in these monuments a token of peace given to the indigenous communities,
prone to rebellion, it is believed, after the military success of Raphia in 217 BC.34 Upper
Egypt remained for some twenty years, between 206 and 186 BC, an independent
territory. This secession could have undermined trade around Coptos, which was for a
while, like the entire Southern region, under the control of rebel kinglets.
14 Throughout the 2nd century BC the situation in Thebaid remained unstable with
frequent troubles,35 while the conflicts within the ruling family escalated. Around the
middle of the second century, a new peribolus of mudbrick, which has been recognised
only in its eastern and northern parts, was built around the main temple of Coptos.36 A
monumental gate decorated by Ptolemy VIII,37 now in the Boston Museum, may have
been part of this building programme. Perhaps we should see in these new buildings a
consequence of endemic insurgency and the damage it caused. However, the Eastern
Desert roads remained active,38 as the infrastructure built in the previous century
favoured the importation of spices to the Mediterranean via Egypt rather than via
Syria.39
15 Thus, the importance of the city does not seem to be diminished under the last of the
Lagids. Instead, because of the fragmentation of the Theban nome in the last quarter of
the second century, the control of the desert roads was transferred to the strategos of
Coptos, who bore from then on the title of “supervisor of the Red and Indian Seas”.40
This new administrative situation could only have the effect of focusing the attention
of sovereigns on the city and its territory.
16 Another seditious episode is attested in Thebaid around 88 BC.41 After its repression,
during his second reign (88-80 BC), Ptolemy IX Soter II had a new temple built and
decorated in Coptos; now completely dismantled, it was probably dedicated to Isis and
Harpocrates.42 Whatever the motives –religious, political or economic– which gave rise
to this ambitious project, one cannot fail to be impressed by the dimensions of the
building, by its architectural quality and the care taken to execute its décor.43 In the
territory of Coptos, another project of the same king took place, earlier in his reign, in
the main temple of Qus and was dedicated in the names of the sovereign and his
mother Cleopatra III.44
17 The last Lagids also built in Coptos. The southernmost door of the enclosure of
Nectanebo was erected, and its facade decorated, by Ptolemy XII Neos Dionysos, who
also dedicated to Isis a bark stand in black granite.45 To the south, in the Netjery-shema,
his daughter Cleopatra VII dedicated an oracular chapel of unique design indeed,46 set
against the temple of Geb built by Nectanebo II (Fig. 3). There she is represented or
named along with her father or one of her brothers, Ptolemy XIII47 or more likely
Ptolemy XIV;48 on some loose blocks, she is mentioned together with her son Caesarion.
15
49
Like his grandfather Ptolemy XII, the latter refers to their ancestor Soter II through
the epithet “heir of the god Soter”, attested so far only in Coptos.50 The construction of
the second monumental gate leading to Cleopatra's chapel is perhaps also a late Lagid
work, but most of its decoration dates to Caligula.51 However, outside Coptos, no
monumental activity in the name of the last Ptolemies has been found so far.
Fig. 3
The oracular chapel of Cleopatra VII.

© Cl. Traunecker
The Romans in Coptos

18 A final and brief rebellion in Upper Egypt took place in 29 BC, this time against the
Romans, shortly after the battle of Actium and the extinction of the Ptolemaic dynasty.
The Thebaid's resistance was rapidly reduced by Cornelius Gallus, and Coptos was taken
–perhaps after a short siege.52 The numerous architectural reworkings and changes in
the street network during the first decades of the conquest resulted from the
endeavour to rationalise the urban space, perhaps combined with the need to refurbish
some buildings after the Romans had damaged them.53
The beginnings of the Principate

19 From the last century of the Republic in Italy, and then in the eastern provinces
(especially in Egypt) during the first half of the first century AD, unprecedented
commercial growth can be seen, that could be compared to a gold rush.54 If the
inscription referring to the vexillation dates actually to the reign of Augustus, then the
layout of the track from Coptos to Berenike would have been one of the first
achievements of the imperial administration in the region.55 Still, the Pharaonic track
16
to Myos Hormos via the Wâdi al-Hammâmât was not disregarded: according to the
same text, the port was equipped with a new cistern. At Coptos, southeast of the great
temple, a monumental gate in the name of Augustus, recently brought to light and
rebuilt (Fig. 4), provided a new access to and from the east, at the end of a street
running along the southern side of the temple. At the western end of this road, remains
a large threshold probably placed at the same time, piercing the temenos enclosure.
This opening marks a new use of the space around the temple, –perhaps to allow
merchants to cross the city, while controlling them at the arrival point of the caravans–
from the eastern gates of the city, up to a pier on the canal towards the Nile, to the
west. Urban changes in Coptos and the development of road infrastructure in the
desert are, thus, closely linked in the first decades of the conquest. Moreover, the
completion of the decoration of Cleopatra's oracular chapel and part of that of the
nearby temple of el-Qal'a, though not precisely dated, were certainly carried out in the
course of the principate.56
Fig. 4
The gate of Augustus, as reerected in 2016.

© Coptos Mission: L. Pantalacci
20 Even the interior space of the central temenos of the city was completely overhauled.
The second century Ptolemaic enclosure of the temple of Min and Isis was levelled and
on its top, at least on its north and east sides, was built a colonnade, closed by a thin
brick wall57 (Fig. 5). It seems that a similar plan had been set up in the Netjery-shema.58
After the creation of this colonnade, hastily erected and unfinished, the old temenos
must have looked like a Roman city in the eastern style.
Fig. 5
17
The northern colonnade.

21 Though we are currently unable to give a precise date, we suggest placing these works
around the middle of the first century AD. This is the time when documents point to
significant alterations in the urban fabric, probably largely supervised by Parthenios
son of Pamin, the manager of the temple of Isis. His records, which currently comprise
no fewer than 27 epigraphic documents, spanned the reigns of four emperors, at least
between 21/22 (the 8th year of the reign of Tiberius) and 66 (the 12th year of the reign of
Nero).59 They are mainly stelae or lapidary inscriptions commemorating the
construction of new or restored enclosures, doors and even new sanctuaries. The layout
of doors and streets seems to have been the principal concern of Parthenios: even the
eastern gate of Augustus, which had already been in place for several decades, was re-
inscribed by him in the name of Nero in January 63 AD.
22 In this new street network marked by the dedications of Parthenios, on stelae or even
on the cornices of doors, distinctions are clearly established between public streets and
service paths for locals, through the use of three languages adapted to the recipients of
the text: classical Egyptian (written in hieroglyphs), demotic and Greek. Thus, to the
southwest of the Netjery-shema, the “painted door” dedicated during the reign of
Claudius, is written in demotic,60 not in Greek like the southeastern Augustan door. It
gave access to a corridor-street running between Nectanebo's wall and the enclosure
wall of the Netjery-shema.
23 Outside the walls of Nectanebo, the street layout is not apparent. Only a few slabs of a
pavement oriented SE-NW were brought to light, 61 in the southernmost part of the
sector with Late Antique monuments (Fig. 6). This isolated evidence of the road
network, situated between the ancient monumental heart of the city and the Nile, is
not datable for the moment.
Fig. 6
18
Topographical map of the site.

© Coptos Mission: D. Laisney
24 At the regional level, the first Julio-Claudians also launched a programme of religious
construction in the territory of Coptos: at El-Qal'a, whose Augustan decoration was
completed by Caligula and Claudius, and at Shenhour and Qus, where two demotic
stelae of Parthenios, one of which was dedicated under Claudius in AD 47, are said to
have been found.62 These monuments presumably flanked a processional path or
monumental entrance, now lost.
25 The few remains of civil occupation recently excavated at Coptos are strictly
contemporaneous with this phase of development of construction and trade. A
domestic settlement from the end of the first century BC to the first century AD,
located outside the wall of Nectanebo, against its eastern face, was studied by the
Egyptian-American ceramological mission (their area A). The ceramic evidence
(assemblage R1b) contained imported pottery, which was almost exclusively Italic,
datable between AD 10 and 60.63 Similarly, the collection of surface sigillata carried out
by Reinach in 1910 revealed, for the Tibero-Claudian period, a high percentage of
Arretine ceramics.64 This evidence supports the hypothesis of a Roman trading
community, living, at least temporarily, under the walls of the central temenos at
Coptos. Moreover, a brief survey to the southwest of the site, under the foundations of
a Late-Antique structure, has yielded pottery dated similarly to the first half of the first
century AD, in particular, almost intact amphorae (EA 3), on top of a dump rich in
remains of culinary activities (pots with blackened bases, charcoal, bones).65
26 If such objects make the Roman presence a little more tangible, the data on the native
Coptites remain rare. The few ostraka and graffiti citing the most visible sacerdotal
family of the first half of the first century AD, that of Parthenios, with his father and his
son bearing the same name Pamin, are modest evidence as compared to their numerous
monuments, which show indefatigable euergetism. It is difficult to explain their
prosperity without linking it to the Indian Ocean trade66 and it is assumed, according to
Nicanor’s records, that Coptites themselves, though not involved in the luxury trade,
19
drew some profit from international traffic.67 But the fact is that excavations, both
earlier and more recent, have hardly found any traces in Coptos of imported materials
or products which were the raison d'être of this great international trade, and which are
better represented in the harbours at the other end of the desert roads.68
27 A little later, the Flavians pursued an investment policy in the Coptos region. Vespasian
stayed in Egypt in AD 70.69 In Coptos, our recent work has enabled us to contextualise a
well-known epigraphic document, the dedication of Hermeros, a merchant from Aden,
probably linked to this imperial visit. It adorned a base, all the blocks of which are
preserved in situ, for a colossal statue. The holes visible on the upper surface of the
stones show undoubtedly that it was a metal statue, larger than life, perhaps of the
same type as that discovered at Berenike a few years ago.70 It was installed in a chapel
inserted into the new colonnade, near the northeastern corner (Fig. 7).71 Possibly the
appreciation of Hermeros of Aden was in connection with the emperor's projects to
develop the caravan trade. It is known that the reign of Vespasian corresponded to a
new phase of development on the road to Berenike, and probably also to Myos Hormos.
72 Once again, desert roads and the urban landscape of Coptos are connected. Two
decades later, under Domitian, the Coptos Tariff gives us some insight into the control
of the traffic that moved along the roads, and on the travellers who were embarking at
the ports of the Red Sea.73 To promote this, the city's infrastructure was improved and
a bridge was built in Coptos by the same emperor.74
Fig. 7
Restitution of the eastern colonnade and of the statue dedicated by

Hermeros.
© Coptos Mission: S. Louvion
Coptos in the second and third centuries AD

28 The sources become more scarce and scattered for the following centuries, but the
archaeological and epigraphic material shows that the desert tracks continued to be
used and the praesidia more or less occupied until the third century.75 Coptos, as the
residence of the Prefect of the Desert of Berenike (title known from AD 11)76 remains a
major economic and administrative centre throughout the Roman period.77 The
presence of foreign communities in the city is a sign of its commercial vitality.78
20
29 Trajan was interested in the city and its roads: we owe to him the foundation of the
new fort of Abu Qurayya on the Myos Hormos road, and in Coptos new inscriptions on
the north gate of the Netjery-shema.79 The street south of the great temple remained an
important artery in the second century. An inscription of Antoninus Pius, on the
eastern gate already inscribed in the names of Augustus and Nero, must be
contemporary with the partial rehabilitation of the peribolus due to another
administrator of Isis, Paniskos son of Ptollis, who also created (?) a garden (of the
temple?).80 Reinach found a statue base of Antoninus Pius by the third pylon of Min's
temple.81 Epigraphic evidence from the Severan period came from the same sector.82 All
this evidence demonstrates that the temple was still in use in the second century.
30 One of the most massive remains on the site is a large, ruined, building, on top of the
northeast corner of the Hellenistic enclosure, whose walls were lined by new, thick
retaining walls to form a strong platform (Fig. 8). Given its dominant position and its
plan, which includes a large hypostyle hall, it is certainly an official building. Soundings
in this structure (Area B of Herbert and Berlin) allowed its construction to be dated
from the first half of the second century and it seems to have remained in use until the
early fourth century.83 The related ceramic assemblage, R2, comprised entirely local
pottery.
Fig. 8
The Roman official building.

31 Transformations continued to occur within the precinct of Nectanebo. Southeast of the

temple, the eastern colonnade of the High Empire was partially dismantled, and its
stones were integrated into the foundations of a rectangular building, set on top of the
Hellenistic enclosure wall on a thick layer of backfill, dated to the second to third
century. Along the southern street are the foundations of a series of small brick
structures on platforms accessible by a few steps.
32 The second half of the third century was a period of instability in the Thebaid. But
despite pressure from nomads in the Eastern Desert, the city continued to trade in
exotic products.84 Uprisings and conflicts, in which Coptos seems to have been in the
front line, marked the last decades of the century.85 So the repression of these troubles
by the emperor Diocletian himself in AD 293/4 is reported to have caused the total
destruction of the city.86 The pre-Roman precincts must have survived, however, and it
21
seems that they were the basis for the fortifications undertaken by Diocletian in 298.87
But the segments of extant isolated walls do not make it possible to trace their outlines.
33 For the Late-Antique period, archaeological sources are rare and poorly known. The
western sector that Weill and Reinach designated as “Western churches” (Fig. 6)
preserves the foundations of large buildings entirely made of reused Hellenistic and
Roman blocks. The architecture of the baptistery, the sole monument that has been
preserved to a certain height, is original and impressive88 (Fig. 9). At the beginning of
the seventh century the bishopric of Coptos was held by the renowned Pisenthios,
whose abundant correspondence has been preserved.89 It seems that the city remained
relatively prosperous and the desert routes continued to be used. While Byzantine
settlements extended to the north and west, the decommissioning of the pagan cults
changed the occupation of the Nectanebo precinct. At the end of the fourth or early
fifth century, an industrial area (bakery, metallurgy) was installed in the main
temenos, over the ruins of the mammisi of Ptolemy IV, which had been violently
destroyed.90 Reinach also mentions Late Antique houses on the northern Netjery-chema.
91 The history of the city then becomes lost, the latest archaeological layers having been
completely destroyed by sebakh hunters or covered by the modern city. But we know
that maritime trade in the Red Sea began to prosper again from the fourth century
onwards, and the port of Berenike experienced a real revival.92 The big mining village
of Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir near the gold veins of Wâdi al-Hammâmât, was very active in the
sixth to seventh century93 and it is likely that the “gold of Coptos”, the Indian Ocean
trade and caravan traffic continued for some time to support the economy of the city. It
was not until the tenth century, when the caravan route was definitively diverted
towards Qus, that the multi-millennial prosperity of Coptos came to an end, before the
hoes of the sabbakhin almost completely destroyed the last evidence of its history.
Fig. 9
The baptistery in 2015, view north-south.

© Coptos Mission: C. Gobeil
22
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BIFAO 116, (on line), pp. 114-118: http://www.ifao.egnet.net/uploads/rapports/
Rapport_IFAO_2015-2016.pdf.
Pantalacci L. Gobeil C. 2016. “Coptos: The Sacred Precincts in Ptolemaic and Roman
Times”, EgArch 49, pp. 4-9.
Pasquali St. 2007. “Une nouvelle stèle de Parthénios fils de Paminis de Coptos”, RdE 58,
pp. 187-192.
Pasquali St. 2009. “Le Πιμμειῶμις de Coptos et 'la route de la mer (Rouge)'”, BIFAO 109,
pp. 385-395.
Petrie W.M.Fl. 1896. Koptos, London.
Posener G. 1969. “Achoris”, RdE 21, pp. 148-150.
Préaux Cl. 1939. L’économie royale des Lagides, Leyde.
Rathbone D. 2002. “Koptos the Emporion. Economy and Society, I-III AD”. In Autour de
Coptos. M.-Fr. Boussac, M. Gabolde, G. Galliano (eds.), pp. 179-198.
25
Reinach A. 1910. Rapports sur les fouilles de Koptos (Janvier-Février 1910) : adressés à la Société
française des fouilles archéologiques et extraits de son Bulletin, augmentés de huit planches et
d'un plan. Paris, E. Leroux.
Reinach A. 1912. “Rapport sur les fouilles de Koptos. Deuxième campagne, janvier-
février 1911”, BSFFA 3, pp. 47-82.
Reinach A. Weill R. 1912. “Parthénios fils de Paminis 'Prostates' d’Isis à Koptos”, ASAE
12, pp. 1-24.
Robin Chr., Prioletta A. 2013. “Nouveaux arguments en faveur d’une identification de la
cité de Gerrha avec le royaume de Hagar (Arabie orientale)”, Semitica et Classica 6,
pp. 131-185: https://halshs.archives-ouvertes.fr/halshs-00949459 [accessed 23 January
2018].
Sauneron S. 1952. Rituel de l’Embaumement. Pap. Boulaq III. Pap. Louvre 5.158, Cairo.
Schérer J. 1941. “Le Papyrus Fouad Ier, inv. 211”, BIFAO 41, pp. 43-73.
Seeliger H.R. Krumeich K. 2007. Archäologie der antiken Bischofssitze I : Spätantike
Bischofssitze Ägyptens, Sprachen und Kulturen des christlichen Orients 15.
Sidebotham St. 1986. Roman Economic Policy in the Erythra Thalassa 30 B.C. - A.D. 217,
Mnemosyne 91.
Sidebotham St., Wendrich W. (eds.) 1996. Berenike 1995: Report of the 1995 Excavations at
Berenike (Egyptian Red Sea Coast) and the Survey of the Eastern Desert, CNWS Publications 2,
Leiden.
Sidebotham St. 2011. Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route. California World
History Library 18, Berkeley-Los Angeles-London.
Tallet P. 2015. “Les 'ports intermittents' de la mer Rouge à l’époque pharaonique :
caractéristiques et chronologie”, Nehet 3, pp. 31-72: http://sfe-egyptologie.website/
index.php/publications/la-revue-nehet [accessed 23 January 2018].
Tchernia A. 2011. Les Romains et le commerce, Centre Jean Bérard Études VIII.
Tran N. 2014. “Les hommes d’affaires romains et l’expansion de l’Empire (70 av. J.-C. -
73 apr. J.-C.)”, Pallas [on line], http://journals.openedition.org/pallas/1198?lang=fr
[accessed 23 January 2018].
Traunecker Cl. 2000. “La porte de Boston et le temple d’el-Qal’a”. In Catalogue Coptos, M.
Gabolde, G. Galliano (eds.), pp. 138-140.
Traunecker Cl. 1992. Coptos. Hommes et dieux sur le parvis de Geb, OLA 43.
Van der Vliet J. 2002. “Pisenthios de Coptos (569-632), moine, évêque et saint. Autour
d’une nouvelle édition de ses archives”. In Autour de Coptos. M.-Fr. Boussac, M. Gabolde,
G. Galliano (eds.), pp. 61-72.
Veïsse A.-E. 2004. Les “révoltes égyptiennes”. Recherches sur les troubles intérieurs en
Égypte du règne de Ptolémée III à la conquête romaine. Studia Hellenistica 41.
Vleeming S. P. 2001. Some Coins of Artaxerxes and Other Short Texts in the Demotic Script
Found on Various Objects and Gathered from Many Publications, Studia Demotica V.
Weill R. 1911. “Coptos. Relation sommaire des travaux exécutés par MM. A. Reinach et
R. Weill pour la Société française des Fouilles Archéologiques (campagne de 1910)”,
ASAE 11, pp. 97-141.
Weill R. 1912. “La titulature pharaonique de Ptolémée César et ses monuments de
Koptos”, RecTrav 34, 1912, pp. 77-86.
Yoyotte J. 1975. “Les sementiou et l’exploitation des régions minières à l’Ancien Empire”,
BSFE 73, pp. 44-55.
26
FOOTNOTES
1. For bibliography on the subject, see S. Aufrère (Aufrère 1991, pp. 138 et 156, n. 302-306). The
meaning of the toponym Gbtyw (“The-people-related-to-the-gbt-bag”) and its grammatical form
will thus be parallel to the term smntyw, “prospectors” (“The-people-related-to-the-smnt-bag”),
studied by J. Yoyotte (Yoyotte 1975, pp. 44-46).
2. Koenig 1979, pp. 200-201; Grandet 1994, pp. 66-67, n. 239, et pp. 197-198, n. 818.
3. In particular in the Ritual of Embalming, of which two copies dating from the first century AD
survive (Sauneron 1952, 3, 6 (p. 7, l.4) and 7, 7-8 (p. 24, l.6); trad. Goyon 1972, index p. 335 s.v.
Coptos). Osiris and Isis of Coptos are cited in this text as protectors of the deceased.
4. Koenig 1979, p. 209 n. (cc). Expeditions to the galena mines of Gebel el-Zeit, on the Red Sea
coast, left from Coptos: Castel, Soukiassian 1985, pp. 290-292.
5. Petrie 1896, pp. 7-9; the researchers date them between the end of Naqada II and Naqada III,
so just before or at the beginning of the Dynastic Period: Baqué-Manzano 2002, p. 40.
6. Most recently, Baqué-Manzano 2002, p. 33.
7. Petrie 1896, p. 4.
8. McFarlane 1995, pp. 211-214.
9. So striking that it was later taken up by Amon, dynastic god from the 2nd millennium onward:
see Gabolde 2013, pp. 31-32. But ithyphallic figures already occur in the repertoire of Naqada II:
McFarlane 1995, pp. 166-169.
10. Munro 1983, p. 28.
11. Baqué-Manzano 2002, pp. 45-46 for a recent point on the epithets.
12. Herzog 1975. Several images taken by R. Weill at Coptos during the 1910 excavations show
Bisharins, a Bedja tribe then established not far from Coptos but who today reside further south
on the Egypto-Sudanese border.
13. Liszka 2011, pp. 149-171.
14. Näser 2012, pp. 82-84. This attribution has recently been revisited by Liszka 2015, pp. 42–60.
15. Rathbone 2002, p. 193.
16. Recent bibliography on the debate and full discussion of the evidence by Fr. Breyer (Breyer
2016) who concludes that Pount was Abyssinia.
17. Undoubtedly a road frequently used, which justified the location of dockyards at Coptos in
the Middle Kingdom: Gabolde 2002, pp. 142-145. During other seasons or periods, the expeditions
starting from Memphis could travel by boat through the Wâdi Tumilat to the Red Sea, or walk
across the Sinai peninsula: Meeks 2002, pp. 271-272, 308-309.
18. At the beginning of the second millennium certainly Mersa Gawasis; for the New Kingdom,
the archaeological sources currently fail. A summary of recent evidence is in Tallet 2015,
pp. 33-36.
19. Naville 1898, p. 17 & pl. 78-79. Compare with the text of the Ramesside P. Harris I (Grandet
1994, pp. 255-260, n. 931).
20. Posener 1969, pp. 148-150; cited by Meeks 2003, p. 78. On the location of the kingdom of Hgr/
Hagar,
21. A recent republication of a stela of Nectanebo I (380-362) commemorating the construction
of this enclosure by Lombardi 2011-2013, pp. 93-110.
22. The text of P. Fouad 211 (Schérer 1941, pp. 43-73) suggests the presence of a hieron of this
king at Coptos still active in AD 160, but on the field, the only trace of Ptolemy I is a scene in his
name in the entrance to Isis's temple, perhaps dedicated by his son Ptolemy II (Petrie 1896, p. 19;
27
Gabolde 2000a, pp. 74-75). The attribution of the stela I. Portes 51 (Bernand 1984, n° 51,
pp. 173-175) to Soter I, considered as definitive by J. Schérer, should perhaps be reviewed (infra,
n. 43).
23. Strabon XVII, I, 45; Préaux 1939, pp. 353-362; Hölbl 2001, pp. 55-58; Burstein 2008,
pp. 135-147.
24. Petrie 1896, pp. 19-22.
25. Petrie 1896, pp. 19-21 and pl. XX; Derchain 2000, pp. 49-53. For the corrected reading of the
anthroponym, see the bibliography in Guermeur 2006, p. 105 n. 2.
26. For this sector, Traunecker 1992, pp. 44-48; Cartron 2012, pp. 257-258.
27. Derchain 2000, p. 52; Guermeur 2003, pp. 286-287. The mention of a “Northern pylon” in
brick could designate the north entrance of Netjery-shema, or a new access to the Isis axis in the
main temple.
28. Derchain 2000, pp. 44-48.
29. The inscription, found at Coptos, of the diocete Apollonius son of Sosibios returning from the
Red Sea (I. Portes 48, p. 166-169) is dated from Ptolemy II: Bingen 1984, p. 365. On the other hand,
the Greek name of the praesidium of Bi’r Sayyâla, Simiou, may derive from a courtisan of
Ptolemy III: Bülow-Jacobsen 2003, p. 56.
30. Herbert, Berlin 2003, pp. 59-63.
31. Petrie 1896, p. 22. In the same reign, a little sanctuary of Min was built at Bi’r Umm
Fawâkhir: PM VII, p. 337; A. Weigall, cited by Bernand 1972, p. 71.
32. Pantalacci 2014a, pp. 397-418.
33. Hölbl 2001, pp. 161, 170. It is also Ptolemy IV who began the temple of Edfu. Two stelae have
been dedicated to this ruler and his wife Arsinoe III by the strategos Lichas, sent to hunt
elephants; one was found at Edfu [Bernand 1977, I. Pan 77, pp. 193-198]; the second is of unknown
provenance (Bernand 1977, I. Pan 84, pp. 244-245). A third stela, also without provenance, names
several other military persons, with an identical mission (Bernand 1977, I. Pan 85, pp. 246-252).
34. Hölbl 2001, pp. 153-159; Veïsse 2004, pp. 5-6, 22-24.
35. Veïsse 2004, pp. 39-63.
36. Herbert, Berlin 2003, pp. 78-79.
37. Traunecker 2000, pp. 138-140.
38. Bernand 1977, I. Pan 86, pp. 253-261, stela dated 2 october 130 BC.
39. Préaux 1939, pp. 364-365.
40. Bernand 1984, I. Portes 49, pp. 169-172: dedication to Isis by two brothers who were strategoi
on the lintel of a well that dates to 74/73 BC.
41. Veïsse 2004, pp. 64-73.
42. Rather than to the sole Harpocrates as hypothesised by Reinach 1910, pp. 48-49.
43. Considering this important monument, until now ignored, the Coptite inscription I. Portes 51,
dedicated to a Soter, could perhaps refer to Ptolemy IX rather than Ptolemy I, as suggested by
late paleography (after Bernand 1984, I. Portes, p. 173). In this very fragmentary text the
references to the town, the Coptite nome and its eclogist are equally interesting.
44. Bernand 1984, I. Portes 104, pp. 268-270.
45. Traunecker 1992, n° 23, 24, 33 for the door; on the “socle Covington”, Caire JE 40643,
Covington 1910, pp. 34-35 et pl. II-III, and Daressy 1910, pp. 36-40.
46. Published by Traunecker 1992, pp. 218-303.
47. We do not know the pharaonic titulary of the last two Ptolemies (but see the next note).
Petrie (1896, p. 22) credits Ptolemy XIII with a “considerable rebuilding” in the main temple, but
this applies in fact, to Ptolemy XII Neos Dionysos. The drawing of his cartouches seen by Petrie
(1896, pl. XXVI, 4, 5, 10) gives no idea of the shape of these architectural remains, now vanished.
48. Attribution discussed by Traunecker 1992, pp. 319-324. Despite the irrelevant epithet of
Cleopatra “royal wife”, the cartouches of the king who accompanies her in her oracular chapel of
28
Coptos could belong to his father Ptolemy XII: Traunecker 1992, p. 121; Hölbl 2001, p. 278 and
p. 298, n. 98.
49. Weill 1912, pp. 77-86; Traunecker 1992, pp. 320-322.
50. Hallof 2010, pp. 265-266.
51. Weill 1911, pp. 128-129; Traunecker 1992, pp. 46-47.
52. Veïsse 2004, pp. 74-76; Hoffmann, Minas-Nerpel, Pfeiffer 2009, p. 139: “Der grosse
Doppeltempel dürfte den Rebellen als gut befestiger Stützpunkt gedient haben”.
53. We have little information on the conditions of the taking of Coptos in AD 29. Cl. Traunecker
(Traunecker 1992, p. 138) proposes that this event damaged the gate of Ptolemy VIII, repaired
under Claudius, even though this cannot be proven.
54. Tchernia 2011, pp. 62-73; Tran 2014, p. 8, § 17.
55. I. Portes 56. The inscriptions and the pottery of Wâdi Menih support this date: De
Romanis1996, pp. 203-217 and 241-257. There are several inscriptions on the road dated to
around the beginning of the first century AD or attributed to the High Empire: Cuvigny et al. 1999,
pp. 137-154. In the official nomenclature, the name “desert of Berenike” replaced, from the end
of the reign of Augustus, the Ptolemaic term “desert of Coptos” (Cuvigny 2000, p. 164). However,
Rathbone (Rathbone 2002, p. 182 and n. 14) suggests a later dating of this vexillation text, under
Domitian.
56. Traunecker 1992, p. 53; Pantalacci, Traunecker 1990, p. 6.
57. Probably the “high level Roman wall” of Petrie 1896, pl. I; Pantalacci, Gobeil 2016, p. 8 and
Fig. p. 9.
58. Reinach 1910, pp. 15-16.
59. On these famous documents, often revisited, see Vleeming 2001, pp. 170-197, n°179-202.
More recently Pasquali 2007, pp. 187-192; Pantalacci 2007, pp. 86-287, Fig. 19; Grenier 2009,
pp. 171-176; Pasquali 2009, pp. 385-395.
60. Reinach, Weill 1912, pp. 17-18; on this inscription, see Vleeming 2001, pp. 188-189, n° 199.
61. Pantalacci 2015-2016, p. 114.
62. CGC 31101, 31114, 31146, 31160. The provenance is questioned by Vleeming, 2001
pp. 178-183, n°189-193, but the strong theological links between Coptos and Qus makes it quite
plausible.
63. Herbert, Berlin 2003, pp. 101-107. This confirms the information from the archive of Nicanor,
doing business with Roman citizens of elite families: Sidebotham 1986, pp. 84-86; De Romanis
1996, pp. 241-257. According to A. Tchernia (Tchernia 2011, p. 70), these rich Italians remained in
their homeland, and entrusted their interests to expatriated freedmen or slaves.
64. A lot more, for example, than at some Alexandrian sites: Élaigne 2004, p. 139 ( “Ce
phénomène semble lié au caractère militaire et commercial du site où étaient installées des
garnisons romaines”) and p. 144, Fig. 11 and n. 12.
65. Pantalacci 2014b, p. 116. The organisation of the deposit and the abundance of cooking
remains suggests collective activity.
66. Sidebotham 1986, p. 84; Rathbone 2002, p. 189. The prosperity of Parthenios could equally
result from the popularity of the Isiac cults with the inhabitants and visitors of Coptos, benefiting
thus indirectly from the caravan traffic.
67. The transport insured by Nicanor meant that he must have had a number of camels,
indicating his prosperity: Adams 2007, pp. 222-223, 232. Among his clients, about 1/3 are
Egyptians from Coptos: Fuks 1951, pp. 210-211.
68. Cp. the products found at Berenike: Sidebotham 2011, pp. 223-245. Admittedly, since
antiquity, Coptos suffered repeated pillaging.
69. I. Portes 65, pp. 193-195; Bricault 2009, pp. 136-137.
70. Sidebotham, Wendrich 1996, pp. 229-236.
29
71. Pantalacci, Gobeil 2016, pp. 8-9. Although Isis is mentioned together with Hera in the text, it
is difficult to imagine that actually a dyad had been represented.
72. Brun 2003b, pp. 197-198.
73. Following the interpretation of F. Burkhalter-Arce (Burkhalter-Arce 2002, pp. 199-233).
74. I. Portes 68; Rathbone 2002, pp. 182-183. The inscription I. Pan 68 is not dated to Domitian
(pace Bernand 1977, p. 68), but to Vespasian, as proved by a parallel from recent excavations
(Cuvigny 2003b, p. 302).
75. Brun 2003a, pp. 201-203.
76. On the prefects and their residence, Cuvigny 2003a, pp. 295-305.
77. For the third century, see Cuvigny 2000, pp. 172-173.
78. Sidebotham 1986, pp. 95-96. The residents engaged in trade commuted seasonally between
Coptos and the Red sea, according to the navigation calendar: Rathbone 2002, pp. 191-192; Gibbs
2012, p. 49.
79. Brun 2003a, p. 198; the reliefs on the door jamb west of the northern entrance to the Netjery-
shema, mentioned by Reinach 1912, pp. 14-15, and Weill 1911, p. 120, have since disappeared.
80. Peribolus: stele CGC 9286, in the 12th year of Antoninus’ reign; garden: I. Portes 74. The
meaning of the second text, full of lacunae, is doubtful.
81. Reinach 1912, p. 57; statue E 501-357 in the Museum of Fine Arts in Lyon.
82. Petrie 1896, p. 23; Reinach 1910, pp. 32-33; id., 1912, pp. 57-58.
83. Herbert, Berlin 2002, p. 85; Herbert, Berlin 2003, p. 107.
84. Rathbone 2002, p. 190 and n. 38.
85. Fournet 2000, pp. 197-198; Rathbone 2002, p. 194.
86. St Jerome, cited by Reinach 1912, p. 59 n. 1: “Busiris et Coptos contra Romanos rebellantes ad
solum usque subversae sunt” (Ad ann. Abr. 2309). D. Rathbone (Rathbone 2002, p. 195) strongly
doubts this radical destruction, considering the contemporary documents, and the prosperity of
the town in the following centuries.
87. Reinach 1912, pp. 51-56; Rathbone 2012, p. 195 et n. 60.
88. Reinach 1910, pp. 25-26; ; Seeliger, Krumeich 2007, pp. 78-81 and Abb. 21-22, s.v. Coptos.
89. Van der Vliet 2002, pp. 61-72. For recent references, see “Pisenthios bishop of Koptos”,
https://www.trismegistos.org/archive/194.
90. Pantalacci 2014a, p. 402.
91. Reinach 1912, pp. 18-19.
92. Sidebotham 1986, p. 47 and n. 94; Sidebotham 2011, pp. 263-279.
93. Brun 2003a, p. 99; https://oi.uchicago.edu/research/projects/bir-umm-fawakhir-project and
lastly Meyer 2014.
AUTHOR
Laure Pantalacci
Professor of Egyptology, University Lumière Lyon 2-HiSoMA
30
The Control of the Eastern Desert by

the Ptolemies: New Archaeological
Data
Bérangère Redon
1 Between the Pharaonic period (during which expeditions to exploit the mineral and
metal resources in the region were initiated resulting in carefully listed inscriptions,
widely reported in the literature)1 and the Roman era (whose sources describe the
layout of the road networks linking the Nile to the Red Sea which hosted the flow of
caravans carrying imports from India and has yielded well-preserved and thoroughly
excavated remains)2 the Ptolemaic period is a somewhat obscure era in the history of
the Eastern Desert.
2 Very often, scholars see the Ptolemaic period as a transition before the developments
of the Roman era (seen generally as a period of culmination of the development of the
region and the peak of trade and activities in the area) or as an epoch reproducing the
later Roman organization (notably the road networks) of the region (location of forts,
roads).
3 Not that the desert was on the margins of Egypt during this period. On the contrary,
the Ptolemaic kings paid much attention to the desert, especially Ptolemy II, whose role
is emphasized in the written sources.3 It is to this pharaoh that the foundation of the
major ports of the Red Sea is attributed, notably the most famous of them, Berenike4
(Fig. 1). The ceremony which he organized in Alexandria in honour of his deified
parents5 was an opportunity for the king to display the wealth of his kingdom,
including elephants, which are said to be the reason for the foundation of the ports on
the coast of the Red Sea6 (to take captured animals from Africa to Egypt), and gold, the
flagship product exploited in the Eastern Desert.
Fig. 1
31
Human settlements and axes of circulation in the Eastern Desert during

the Ptolemaic period.
© MAFDO, Th. Faucher, A. Rabot, B. Redon, 2016
4 However, for the Ptolemaic period, the sources are both few and difficult to use to write
a more precise history of the Eastern Desert, its exploitation, its developments, and its
traffic.7 The few written sources available to the historian are often subsequent to the
Ptolemaic period, with the exception of the treatise of Agatharchides the geographer,
written in the late second century BC, which describes in detail the work of the
prisoners in the gold mines of the region.8 The Eastern Desert also yielded dozens of
Ptolemaic inscriptions, especially at the Paneion at El-Kanaïs, which provides valuable
information on travellers passing through the sanctuary, elephant hunting expeditions
launched by the Ptolemies in the third century BC and the military presence in the
region.9 On the other hand, on an archaeological level, until recently, we only had data
obtained from surface surveys. Indeed, with the exception of the ports of Berenike and
Myos Hormos10 no Ptolemaic sites in the Eastern Desert had been properly investigated
before 2013. Yet they are relatively numerous and have been long reported by
travellers of the nineteenth century,11 then through many surveys conducted in
twentieth century, most notably those of Dietrich and Rosemarie Klemm, Henry Wright
and Steven Sidebotham.12
5 To correct this bias, the French Archaeological Mission of the Eastern Desert (MAFDO)
has undertaken, beginning in January 2013, the exploration of the Ptolemaic sites of the
Eastern Desert, in order to renew the data with information taken directly from
fieldwork.
Surveys and excavations of the French mission in

Samut
6 Work began by exploring the Samut district, situated on the ancient road that
connected Edfu to the Ptolemaic port of Berenike (Fort Bi'r Samut is ca. 120 km from
the former city and approximately 200 km from the latter). In 2013, this district had the
advantage of having well-preserved, numerous remains, apparently dated across a
broad chronological range, the most remarkable of which dating back to the Ptolemaic
32
period. They were quite severely damaged just before the beginning of our excavations
in the summer of 2013 and then in 2014, by a mining company and illegal gold diggers,
which turned the nature of the excavation into rescue archaeology.13
7 Work started in January 2013 through the identification of archaeological sites in the
area, and three excavation seasons followed in January 2014, 2015 and 201614 which
produced rich discoveries thanks to the excellent preservation of the remains including
more than 1,300 Greek, Demotic and Aramaic ostraka.
8 This paper does not set out to describe in detail the results of the four seasons, but
instead offers some preliminary conclusions about the history of the region, including
the policies of the Ptolemies in the Eastern Desert. The data for this synthesis is
derived, for the first time, from fieldwork evidence, which will be compared with data
from written sources. Initial results of our excavations confirm the general features of
the history of the region as it emerges through the written sources, as well as adding
significant, previously unknown, nuances and new perspectives.
9 The 2013 survey carried out by Th. Faucher and Fl. Téreygeol15 highlighted an
occupation in Samut, stretching from the Pharaonic era to modern times (a British
mining company worked in the area in 1904); there are several notable peaks of ancient
occupation (Fig. 2): from the Pharaonic era (New Kingdom) to the early Ptolemaic
period, and the medieval period (the Roman era is remarkable, in fact, for being a
period of relatively low activity for gold mining in the area). It was undoubtedly during
the Ptolemaic period that activity was the most notable and the most varied. The Samut
district then has two main settlements, Samut North and Bi'r Samut, 4.3 km apart as
the crow flies. The northern site, located in the mountains, is organized around a gold
vein whose exploitation is at the origin of a major construction programme; the
second, in a vast wâdi, has a fort that houses a well (hence the Arabic name Bi'r,
“well”).
Fig. 2
Remains of the Samut district excavated between 2014 and 2016.
33
© MAFDO, B. Redon, 2016, Bing Map base map
Samut North and gold mining in the Eastern Desert

under Ptolemy, son of Lagos16
10 The site of Samut North is entirely dedicated to the exploitation of gold. The gold
quartz vein was intensely exploited in the last quarter of the fourth century BC
according to the study of the pottery undertaken by J.-P. Brun. The construction
programme related to this site is large, complex and was conducted in a single
operation. It includes, around the vein and according to a well-thought out
distribution, buildings dedicated to the housing and supply of the troops and miners
(presumably convicts and prisoners of war),17 and more or less complex constructions
dedicated to the different activities of gold ore processing (Fig. 3-4).
Fig. 3
General view of Building 1 of Samut North, from the west.

© MAFDO, B. Redon, 2014
Fig. 4
34
Interior of building 1 from the north-west.

© MAFDO, G. Pollin, 2015
11 Looking at its scale and the specialization of its facilities, the mining complex at Samut
North is certainly the result of a state investment launched by order of Ptolemy son of
Lagos, perhaps while he was still a satrap (he proclaimed himself basileus in 305 BC),
with significant means. Unfortunately, few ostraka have been uncovered on the site to
confirm this, but one of them should be mentioned: this is O.Sam. 4 (= TM 706211), an
amphoric titulus indicating that the vessel contained black figs that were sent to a
banker.18 The presence of a banker in the mining installation is significant and suggests
direct control by the Macedonians of the exploitation of gold in the region.19 The few
documents relating to the exploitation of Egyptian natural resources by the Ptolemies20
also tend to suggest that mines and quarries were directly managed by the Ptolemaic
state, and at the same time they demonstrate the important role of the military in the
surveillance and exploitation of these resources.21 This is also our hypothesis for the
Samut North mine.
12 Our estimates suggest that the vein was exploited for less than a decade.22 It is also
possible that the site was not occupied continuously during this short period of time,
but that occupation was seasonal, as it was, for example, at the sites in the district of
Samut where gold was exploited in the New Kingdom and medieval times.23 The reasons
for the abandonment of the mine are difficult to establish, but several hypotheses can
be put forward. It is possible, first of all, that the expedition, which had been sent by
Ptolemy to Samut North to collect gold and supply the funds of the court, had reached
its goal. It is also possible that the vein was difficult to exploit further and / or that
other more profitable seams had been put into operation. These assumptions are not
exclusive, but it is, in any case, too early to favour one over the other. Only the
excavations of other large Ptolemaic mines in the region (Dunqash, Atud, Sibrit,
Hamash, Daghbag / Kompasi)24 and fixing the chronology of their operations will allow
35
us to draw more certain conclusions about the whole gold exploitation management
and history in the Eastern Desert during the Ptolemaic period.
13 It is important, in any case, to stress the role of the first king of the Ptolemaic dynasty
in the exploitation of gold in the Eastern Desert, hitherto ignored in the sources25
which rather emphasize the role of his son in the development of the region (see
below). However, Agatharchides, at the beginning of his description of the region, put
forward the interests of the first Ptolemy, son of Lagos, in the region, not for the
exploitation of gold, but for the elephants and their hunting in Africa.26 It was also
perhaps under his reign (or at the very beginning of his son's reign, Ptolemy II
Philadephus) that Philo explored the African coasts of the Red Sea.27 Finally, troops of
Ptolemy I may have also crossed the desert and the Red and Arabian Sea to rescue
Seleucus in Babylon in 311 BC.28
Bi'r Samut and the development of the desert roads

under Ptolemy II and III
14 The exploitation of the gold quartz ore in the Samut district did not stop when the
Samut North site was abandoned. In Bi'r Samut, under the fort, excavated between 2014
and 2016, a first occupation, visibly linked to gold processing work, has been detected.
It probably dates back to the early third century BC, according to the study of the
pottery carried out by J. Gates-Foster.29 This first occupation is illustrated in particular
by a thick layer of quartz flour (very white, heavy sand) which was used to level the
area before the construction of the fort, and by nearly 600 millstones (with evidence of
wear demonstrating that they were used to crush quartz) reused within the walls of the
fort for its construction. A number of architectural elements were also discovered,
including iron reduction furnaces and a large room with lime-covered floors and walls.
All these elements attest intense mining and metallurgical activity in the area at the
beginning of the 3rd century BC.
15 After this phase of occupation and a first episode of abandonment, the fort of Bi'r
Samut was built. It was well known by travelers from the early nineteenth century,
including Belzoni and Wilkinson, who each made a plan (Fig. 5). Sidebotham and
Wright established a more precise plan of the site in 1990, and in 2013 another rather
sketchy plan was made using satellite photographs, published by D. Klemm and
R. Klemm.30 Despite recent destruction 31 the fort was well preserved and was
completely excavated by us, except for six rooms32. It is the largest Ptolemaic fort in the
Eastern Desert33 (71.50x58 m, excluding the towers, Fig. 6). Equipped with bastions at
the corners, it is built of blocks of granite bound with earth mortar. In some places, the
curtain wall was still preserved to a height of nearly 2.50 m, with an average thickness
of 1.40 to 1.50 m. The main access (which probably opened onto the caravan track) was
in the northeast corner, via a door with a lock; a postern was made immediately
opposite.
Fig. 5
36
Map of Bi'r Samut by G. Belzoni (from Travels in Egypt and Nubia, Atlas,
Paris, 1821, pl. 33.5).
© G. Belzoni
Fig. 6
General view of the fort of Bi'r Samut from the north.

© MAFDO, G. Pollin, 2015
16 No trace of the well that gave its name to the fort could be found during our work (it
was undoubtedly swept away during the work that tried to clear the centre of the court
of the fort of its alluvium) but it is reported until the early twentieth century34 and is
37
probably even visible on the Corona satellite photographs taken in 1969 (a black,
circular mark can be seen in northern centre of the courtyard). It certainly supplied the
vast tank unearthed near the secondary gate, which could hold nearly 110 m3 (Fig. 7).
Fig. 7
Tank 15 viewed from the northwest.

© MAFDO, Th. Faucher, 2016
17 Constructions inside the fort are arranged in a classical way along the curtain wall, in
one, two or three rows of rooms. Results of excavations make it possible to determine
the function of some spaces, if not all. Thus, the south-western bastion housed rooms
equipped with silos, the north-western bastion contained baths35 while several bakeries
and kitchens have been excavated in the northern wing. It is more difficult to
determine the functions of other rooms, which were completely empty when we
started our excavations, especially the largest of them, which is nearly 50 m long and
10 m wide along the western curtain wall. It probably was not covered and may have
been used as stables for beasts of burden (donkeys, camels) and / or as a space for
encampment for passing caravans.
18 The date of construction of the fort is not yet certain. Preliminary study of the material
suggests that it might have occurred around or a little before the middle of the third
century BC. We have several references to regnal years on ostraka, including an
interesting hypothetical mention of the 30th year of a reign on a demotic ostracon
deciphered by M.-P. Chaufray (O.Sam. inv. 572), which could refer to that of Ptolemy II
and more specifically the year 256/255 BC. However, the reading of this date is not
completely certain (one could also read “8th” or “20th” year). At most, it can be said
that the majority of the coins discovered at Bi'r Samut belong to Series 3 and 4, dated
261-240 and 240-220 BC36 that the regnal dates on the ostraka tally with the reign of
38
Ptolemy III and the beginning of the reign of Ptolemy IV37 and that the pottery show an
intense activity in Bi'r Samut during the reign of Ptolemy III.38
19 The fort was occupied for several decades and revisions were noted in its plan. It had to
be regularly cleaned (which led to the formation of two dumps, against the northern
and western curtain walls of the fort) so that we have little information on the different
occupation phases inside the fort. On the contrary, it is possible to date fairly
accurately the abandonment of the fort of Bi'r Samut. Indeed, almost all rooms have
well-preserved abandonment levels, composed of objects left in place and littering the
floor (Fig. 8), which show that the fort was evacuated suddenly, perhaps violently, but
certainly definitively at the beginning of the Great Revolt of Thebes (which broke out
between 208/207 and 206/205 BC and lasted twenty years).39 Thereafter, the fort was no
longer occupied, except sporadically, during the Roman Empire.
Fig. 8
Abandonment floor of room 45, with 33 loom weights on the floor.

© MAFDO, B. Redon, 2016
20 The exploitation of gold does not appear in the 1,300 or so ostraka discovered in Bi'r
Samut, except on two occasions. The most explicit ostrakon (O.Sam. inv. 1202)
mentions a mine (metalla) administrator. The continuation of mining exploration in the
region is also demonstrated at the miner’s settlement (probably a small way station)
located 10 km east of Bi'r Samut, at Abu Garaish, investigated by the French mission in
2016. The Abu Garaish settlement operated at the same period as the fort at Bi'r Samut
(Fig. 9).40 But even if this mining activity continued in its vicinity, it is clear that the Bi'r
Samut fort was not primarily responsible for its management, command or logistics.
Fig. 9
39
View of Abu Garaish building 1.

© MAFDO, A. Rabot, 2016
21 Similarly, the important role Bi'r Samut played in defending the Eastern Desert is not
obvious in the ostraka (the soldiers are quite discreet in the documentation and the
region was not in danger). In fact, most of the documentation relates to food
distributions in and around Bi'r Samut41 and provisioning of caravans, including
camels42 crossing the desert. Like the Roman road praesidia leading to Berenike and
Myos Hormos, the fort at Bi’r Samut was primarily a stopover on the road leading to
the Red Sea.
22 The information in the ostraka provides some clues to the organization of the
surveillance and traffic (of messages, but also of officials and caravans) in the Eastern
Desert. This organisation can be seen through a network of stopping points in the
region, which are called way stations (stathmoi) and / or wells (hydreumata). Many of
them are mentioned in the Bi'r Samut ostraka, which were spread along the road
leading to Edfu and Berenike.43 Their identification, somewhat difficult, is still ongoing,
but many of them are already known such as the hydreuma at the foot of the Paneion at
el-Kanaïs (referred to as ὕδρ⟨ε⟩υμα τὸ ἐπὶ τοῦ Πανείου in I.Paneion 12) or the hydreuma
of Apollo, near Berenike, if the place name Apolloniou read by H. Cuvigny on an
ostrakon found Bi'r Samut refers to this place.44
23 The construction of the fort near the Paneion (Fig. 10) can be attributed to the reign of
Ptolemy II,45 which is also the origin of the foundation of the port of Berenike at the
maritime end of the Edfu-Berenike track, and that of the small unfortified way station
of Bi’r ‘Alayyân46 located on the road from Edfu to Marsa Nakari (Nechesia?).47 This
latter site produced an inscription alluding to its construction during the 28th year of
Ptolemy II (258/257 BC), ie two years before the hypothetical year 30 which may have
appeared on a demotic ostrakon at Bi'r Samut (see above).
Fig. 10
40
Satellite view of some forts or fortified wells of the Ptolemaic road

between Edfu-Berenike, presented at the same scale.
© MAFDO, B. Redon, 2016, Bing Maps
24 On the ground, several Ptolemaic way stations were identified during surveys of the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries and the map made for this article48 indicates them
(Fig. 1). Although it is still provisional (particularly because of the lack of reliable
chronological information on these sites without excavation), a quick glance is enough
to see that the main Ptolemaic amenities in the Eastern Desert punctuated the road
that leads from Edfu to Berenike and, to a lesser extent, that connecting Edfu to Marsa
Nakari.
25 On Edfu-Berenike route49 the stopping points are very frequent and there are way
stations (forts or wells, often fortified: Fig. 10) every 20 to 30 km, as on the roads from
Berenike to Myos Hormos in Roman times. The forts near the Paneion at el-Kanaïs and
Bi'r Samut and the small stopping point at Abu Garaish were active from the mid third
century BC, which is probably the case with three other way stations located on this
road. Indeed the surface pottery at the fortified well of Abu Midrik is contemporary to
the finds from Bi'r Samut and Abu Garaish.50 Moreover, an inscription from the first
half of the Ptolemaic period51 was spotted about 50 metres south of the fort: it is
engraved on a sandstone block (perhaps a tombstone?), and bears the name of Aristis
son of Philoxenos, a typical anthroponym of Cyrenaica.52 Similarly, the excavations of
the fort of Abbad showed that it was built around the mid-3rd century BC and
abandoned by the end of the same century.53 Finally, the Abu Rahal way station is very
similar in its plan to that of Abu Midrik (these small way stations include two very large
circular cisterns within their walls).54 One can certainly conclude that the development
of the western part of the Berenike-Edfu road can be dated to the second and third
quarters of the third century BC, which is probably also the case for the eastern part of
41
the road which we have not investigated yet, but the surface pottery dates to the early
Ptolemaic period.55
26 The inscription at the Bi’r ‘Alayyân way station suggests a similar date in the reign of
Ptolemy II, for the construction of facilities along the Edfu to Marsa Nakari road56 as
well as some sort of state intervention for this development. However, this secondary
route did not see the same level of activity as the main Edfu-Berenike route: the
Ptolemaic sites identified along this route are rarely forts or fortified wells, but simply
stopping points fitted with water supplies, without substantial facilities. Exploitation of
the gold mines located on either side of the track (Barramiya, Atud and Sokkari)57 was
likely the main reason for their construction,58 although it would be necessary to have
more information on the remains located along this road (especially on its end point,
which has for the moment yielded only vestiges dated from the beginning of the Roman
era)59 to be certain.
27 The roads leading from Coptos to Myos Hormos and Berenike –the busiest roads in
Roman times–60 are even less well equipped than the Edfu-Marsa Nakari road and of
course of the main road of the period, Edfu-Berenike.61 The network is loose and the
few sites for which a Ptolemaic occupation has been detected on these two hypothetical
routes coming from Coptos are not stathmoi or hydreumata. These are somewhat
undeveloped stopping points where passing travellers left graffiti such as at Al-
Buwayb62 or Abu Ku' ,63 while Umm Fawâkhir / Persou ,64, Sigdit-Wâdi Miyah65 and
Daghbag / Kompasi66 are mining sites rather than way stations on a caravan route.
There have been many surveys in the northern part of the Eastern Desert, as well as
excavations on the Roman forts67 and Ptolemaic remains could hardly have escaped the
attention of researchers. Their absence in the area is definitely not a result of a bias in
our information.
28 In summary, it seems pretty clear that the systematic development –with forts, stables
for the beasts of burden, cisterns and wells, all evenly distributed– of the road from
Edfu to Berenike was favoured under the rule of first three Ptolemies, at the expense of
roads starting from Coptos.68 Of the two sides of isthmus mentioned by Strabo (XVII, 1,
45) when he describes the network of caravan routes of the Eastern Desert, the Edfu-
Berenike axis is the oldest and most dynamic. In his time, at the beginning of the
Roman era, the Coptos-Myos Hormos route took over69 (ἀλλὰ νῦν ἡ Κοπτὸς καὶ ὁ
Μυὸς ὅρμος εὐδοκιμεῖ, “nowadays, it is Coptos and Myos Hormos which are
renowned”) but Strabo does not locate this northern bias over time. The final
abandonment of Bi'r Samut at the beginning of the revolt of Thebes and the absence of
a Ptolemaic reoccupation in the district of Samut following the takeover of the area by
the Ptolemies might suggest a shift to the Coptos-Berenike route at the turn of third/
second centuries BC.70 The rulers then intentionally redirected the traffic from the Red
Sea caravans towards Coptos, north of restless Thebes, near Ptolemais and the
Ptolemaic representative in Upper Egypt, to avoid being cut back from this region,
since it had become clear to the Ptolemaic rulers that the Edfu-Berenike road was too
insecure in the event of the secession of Upper Egypt.71
29 The Coptos-Myos Hormos track does not, however, suffer the same type of occupation
as the Edfu-Berenike axis, since no Ptolemaic fort has been identified there72 (Fig. 1). In
this way, Strabo's testimony (XVII, 1, 45) asserting that there were no way stations on
the Coptos-Myos Hormos road before his time, and that merchants travelled at night
carrying their water with them, could be confirmed: it was, in fact, only in the Flavian
42
period that well-equipped and fortified way stations, identical to the stathmoi and
hydreumata of the Edfu-Berenike route of the third century BC, were built.
Conclusion
30 These preliminary remarks on the Ptolemaic investment in the region as it emerged
through the excavations of Samut North and Bi'r Samut confirm what written sources
and survey data indicate about the history of the occupation of the region in the
Ptolemaic era. But they also allow us to refine the micro-history of the southern part of
the Eastern Desert, give it substance, and bring out facts, until now, unknown.
31 The excavation of Samut North has brought to light the first development in the area
under Ptolemy I, whose major role in the exploration and exploitation of resources of
the Eastern Desert had escaped historians before and been neglected in favour of that
of his son Ptolemy II. As for excavation of Bi'r Samut, they have shown the
development of the road linking Edfu to Berenike, which was clearly quite busy during
the reign of Ptolemy III, and equipped, perhaps as early as the reign of Ptolemy II, with
stopping points regularly spaced to facilitate travel between the Nile Valley and the
Red sea. The change of traffic between the Nile Valley and the Red Sea towards the
north of the region (on the Coptos-Myos Hormos axis) might have been the result of
the great revolt of Thebes.
32 Despite their interest, these comments cannot be confirmed until we have explored
other forts and other Ptolemaic mines in the region; this is the programme that we
have set for the coming years, hoping that the remains will survive the current wave of
vandalism.
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45
FOOTNOTES
1. The most famous quarrying expeditions are those of Mentuhotep III and IV at the turn of the
third and second millennia BC in the Wâdi al-Hammâmât (Murray 1955, p. 175; Breasted 2001,
pp. 208-213) and we should also cite the famous map of the Wâdi al-Hammâmât drawn at the
time of Ramesses IV (Harrell and Brown 1992). A recent work gives a relatively complete
panorama of the Pharaonic inscriptions of the Eastern Desert: Rothe, Miller, Rapp 2008.
2. The main archaeological operations (for surveys, see infra notes 11 and 12) in the desert were
conducted from 1994 to 2013 by the French Archaeological Mission of the Eastern Desert, created
by Hélène Cuvigny, which, in line with excavations of Mons Claudianus, explored the area
between the Nile Valley and the Red Sea with a team of papyrologists and archaeologists. Its aim
was to study two aspects of the Roman presence in the region linked to the exploitation of
quarries by the central government on the one hand and to the development and supervision of
the two large caravan trails leading to the ports of Myos Hormos and Berenike on the other. See
also the articles by J.P Brun, A. Bülow-Jacobsen, H. Cuvigny, M. Leguilloux and M. Reddé in this
volume.
3. The bibliography is extensive and it is enough to refer to the most important and/or recent
works: Desanges 1978, pp. 252-279; Sidebotham 2011, chap. 4; Gates-Foster 2012, pp. 199-201.
4. On the Ptolemaic levels which are beginning to be brought to light at Berenike, cf. the article
of S.E. Sidebotham in this volume.
5. Callixenus of Rhodes, apud Athenaeus V, 197c-203c. On this great feast, cf. Rice 1983 and
Thompson 2000, pp. 365-388.
6. Desanges 1978, pp. 252-279; Thiers 2001; Sidebotham 2011, pp. 39-53; cf. OGIS 54, Strabo XVI, 4,
5, Pliny VI, 167.
7. They are listed in Gates-Foster 2012.
8. Apud Diodorus, III, 12-14 and Photius, 250, 23-29.
9. The Greek inscriptions were recorded by Bernand 1972.
10. See L. Blue (Myos Hormos) and S.E. Sidebotham (Berenike) in this volume.
11. See the list of desert travellers in Sidebotham, Hense and Nouwens 2008, pp. 33-35.
12. Klemm and Klemm 2013; Sidebotham, Gates-Foster and Rivard, forthcoming. We should also
cite the work of Murray and Meredith, who have documented many Roman but also Ptolemaic
remains in the Eastern Desert (Murray 1925; Meredith 1952 and 1953).
13. I will not return to the current context in the Eastern Desert and refer, instead, to the
introduction of this volume.
14. Participants in the 2013 to 2016 campaigns: Bérangère Redon (Director of the mission,
archaeologist, CNRS-HiSoMA, Lyon); Thomas Faucher (Deputy Director, Director of the Ifao's
“Egyptian Gold” programme, archaeologist, numismatist, CNRS-IRAMAT-CEB, Orléans); Adrien
Arles (mining archaeologist, Arkémine Sarl); Bailey Benson (student at the University of North
Carolina at Chapel Hill, North Carolina, USA); Charlène Bouchaud (archaeobotanist, CNRS-
Museum of Natural History, Paris); Jean-Pierre Brun (archaeologist, ceramologist, Collège de
France); Adam Bülow-Jacobsen (papyrologist, photographer); Marie-Pierre Chaufray
(papyrologist, CNRS-Ausonius, Bordeaux); Hélène Cuvigny (papyrologist, CNRS-IRHT, Paris);
Jennifer Gates-Foster (ceramologist, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, North Carolina,
USA); Joseph Gauthier (mining archaeologist, post-doctoral student of Bochum); Isabelle
Goncalves (student in Egyptology at the Université Lumière Lyon 2); Mariola Hepa (archaeologist,
doctoral student at the University of Cologne, Germany); Martine Leguilloux (archaeozoologist,
46
Var Archaeological Centre); Julie Marchand (ceramologist, PhD student at the University of
Poitiers); Olivier Onézime (topographer, IFAO); Gaël Pollin (photographer, IFAO); Alexandre
Rabot (specialist in GIS, HiSoMA, University of Lyon 2); Florian Téreygeol (mining archaeologist,
CNRS, IRAMAT-CEA); Khaled Zaza (draftsman, IFAO). To ensure its annual campaigns, the mission
receives its main support from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Development
and the French Institute of Eastern Archaeology. In 2015 and 2016, we obtained sponsorship from
the Fondation du Collège de France, to whom we are indebted.
15. The results of this work are presented in Brun et al. 2013a.
16. The excavations at Samut North were led by J.-P. Brun, Th. Faucher and B. Redon and the
exploration of the vein was carried out by Fl. Tereygeol, A. Arles and J. Gauthier. For more
details, refer to Th. Faucher article in this volume, and Brun et al. 2013a; Brun et al. 2013b; Redon
and Faucher 2014; Redon and Faucher 2015a, pp. 27-29; Redon and Faucher 2015b; Redon and
Faucher 2016.
17. Redon 2016.
18. B. Redon is studying the Greek ostraka from Samut North and M.-P. Chaufray the demotic
ostraka. In this article, the already or soon published ostraca have a publication number (O.Sam. 1
to n) and, when already available, a Trismegistos (TM) number; the so far unpublished ostraca
have a field inventory number (O.Sam. inv. 1 to n).
19. I shall not dwell on the Ptolemaic banks, which are known to be private or public; in the
context of a mine, I would tend to see it as a public bank. R. Bogaert (Bogaert 1998, p. 165) placed
the earliest mention of a trapezites in Egypt around 270 BC (P.Hib. I, 110 recto). The ostrakon of
Samut North, dated to the last quarter of the fourth century BC is now the oldest document to
mention a banker in Ptolemaic Egypt.
20. P.Petrie II, 9 (3) = III, 43 (3) mentions copper mines in the Fayoum in 240 BC (workers from
these mines, probably located near Philoteris, are asking to be transferred to Alabanthis, another
mine in Middle Egypt). An inscription mentions the harvest of gems in the Eastern Desert (I.Pan
du désert 86, l. 7-8, 130 BC) and, of course, we can also use the text of Agatharchides, quoted by
Diodorus and Photius, concerning the gold mines of the Eastern Desert (see note 8).
21. One could also think that the soldiers may have worked directly in the mines, but this is
difficult to prove: Préaux1939, p. 259.
22. Estimates based on poor stratigraphic information observed in the buildings excavated on
the surface and on the limited volume of quartz extracted from the mine.
23. On these sites and their exploration, cf. Redon and Faucher 2015a, pp. 29-31; Redon and
Faucher 2016a, pp. 15-17, and Marchand et al., forthcoming. See also the reports published by
A. Rabot and I. Goncalves on the mission blog: https://desorient.hypotheses.org/421 and https://
desorient.hypotheses.org/495.
24. On these sites, cf. Klemm and Klemm 2013, s.v.
25. This led historians to conclude that Ptolemy I had no interest in the region: Desanges 1978,
pp. 247-248.
26. Apud Photius 250, 1.
27. Pliny VI, 169, XXXVII, 24, 108, Diodorus III, 39, 5-9, Photius 250, 82, Strabo XVI, 4, 6. This date
is rejected by Desanges 1978, pp. 248-249 who prefers to place the expedition in the reign of
Ptolemy II, due to the lack of interest, according to him, of Ptolemy I in the desert.
28. Arrian Indikè XLIII, 4-5.
29. See the Gates-Foster's contribution at this colloquium [http://www.college-de-france.fr/
site/jean-pierre-brun/symposium-2016-03-31-10h45.htm].
30. Belzoni 1821, pl. 33.5. See the plan drawn by Wilkinson and published in Sidebotham, Hense
and Nouwens 2008, p. 333, fig. 14.3. Klemm and Klemm 2013, pp. 238-248; Sidebotham, Gates-
Foster and Rivard, forthcoming.
47
31. Heavy destruction occurred in 2014: gold diggers damaged the northeast gate of the fort, and
several mechanical shovels were used in the neighbouring dump, and especially at the northwest
corner of the fort, destroying one of the towers. While excavating the fort of Abbad, a visit paid
to the fort of Bi’r Samut in January 2017 was the occasion for us to assess the recent and dreadful
damages made on the curtain wall and north tower of the fort.
32. Excavations carried out under the supervision of J.-P. Brun, Th. Faucher and B. Redon. On the
remains of Bi'r Samut, cf. Redon, Faucher 2014, pp. 13-14; Redon, Faucher 2015a, pp. 25-27;
Redon, Faucher 2016a, pp. 10-14.
33. The fort of El-Kanais is 75x51 m max. The fort known as Apollonôs hydreuma is bigger, but it
is not certain that the visible remains are Ptolemaic. See infra note 44.
34. Hume reports that it had water at his time (Hume 1907, p. 14); in 1912, in his book on the
geology of the Eastern Desert, John Ball said that it was the centre of the fort (Ball 1912, p. 30).
G.W. Murray (1925, p. 145) refers to a well depth of 20 m at the time.
35. Brun, Faucher, Redon 2017.
36. Study conducted by Th. Faucher.
37. Information provided by H. Cuvigny and M.-P. Chaufray, in charge of the study and
publication of the Greek and Demotic ostraca of Bi’r Samut.
38. See the J. Gates-Foster's contribution at this colloquium [http://www.college-de-france.fr/
site/jean-pierre-brun/symposium-2016-03-31-10h45.htm]. This confirms the writings of
Agatharchides and Diodorus, evoking numerous expeditions launched by the king to recognize
the coasts of Arabia and bring Ethiopian elephants: Desanges 1978, pp. 292-298.
39. On the date of the beginning of the revolt, see Veïsse 2004, pp. 11-26 (early date); Depauw
2006, p. 106 (late date).
40. Survey and excavations were conducted by Alexandre Rabot, Mariola Hepa, Isabelle
Goncalves, Julie Marchand and Bérangère Redon. Cf. Redon and Faucher 2016a, pp. 15-16. This
site has already been reported by Sidebotham 1997(a), p. 386. It comprises, besides a tank (19 m3)
near the wâdi where the ancient road passed once, miners huts and several larger buildings,
including a wide building with a dormitory of the same type as those unearthed in Samut North
(see above). It is a site dedicated to the exploitation of gold, but its location on the Edfu-Berenike
road and the presence of the tank also give it the role, de facto, of a small stop on the road.
41. Cuvigny forthcoming a.
42. Cuvigny forthcoming b; Chaufray, forthcoming.
43. Cuvigny forthcoming a.
44. The well of Apollo, never excavated, is mentioned from the middle of the first century
by Pliny, HN VI, 26, 102, then the Antonine Itinerary 173, 1, the Peutinger Table 8C4 and by the
Anonymous of Ravenna, 2, 7. The surface sherds date from the Roman period (first to third
century, with a few sherds of the fifth to sixth century, Brun 2014, p. 500) but a Ptolemaic
foundation is likely.
45. A dedication to Queen Arsinoë, attributable to BC 270, is reported by J.G. Wilkinson
(Wilkinson 1835, p. 421). The oldest Greek inscription at the Paneion dates to the same
decade (I.Paneion 9) and a list of soldiers was engraved in 254 BC (I.Paneion 10). Cf. Meredith 1953,
p. 99, footnote 4.
46. Bagnall et al., 1996. The site has an 8x10 m building and two independent tanks of medium
size (ca 2.8 m in diameter and 1.7x3.8 m). The new transcription of the Arabic name of the site is
due to Hélène Cuvigny. See her article in this volume.
47. The identification of Marsa Nakari with Nechesia was suggested by S.E. Sidebotham
(Sidebotham 1997b, p. 505) and supported by Bagnall et al. 1996, but this remains a hypothesis, in
the absence of written or archaeological confirmation.
48. Map produced in collaboration with Alexandre Rabot and Thomas Faucher from the list of
Sidebotham 2011, pp. 129-135 (Table 8.1). It remains at this stage very preliminary and there is
48
much to be done on the dating of the sites (which is still too often based on the analysis of
surface pottery), but also on the route of the roads. This project will be carried out in the
following years, in the frame of the ERC project “Desert Networks”.
49. For a useful review, although old, sources on the Edfu-Berenike road and visits and other
archaeological work on the sites along it, see Meredith 1953, p. 98, note 3. Also Sidebotham 2011.
pp. 28-31 for the results of the survey of the University of Delaware on the Ptolemaic routes.
50. Assessment by J.-P. Brun and J. Gates-Foster during a visit in January 2016.
51. The shape of the letters (Σ with a broken bar, square Ε and Ξ, letters without apices, alpha
with horizontal bar) indicates that the stele was engraved in the third century BC, even the next
century.
52. Masson 1990, p. 613; Clarysse, Thompson 2006, p. 320.
53. The excavations were carried out by the French archaeological mission in the Eastern Desert
in January 2017 and 2018 (unpublished).
54. See the map of Abu Midrik in Sidebotham and Zitterkopf 1995, Fig. 15.
55. See the distribution maps in J. Gates-Foster's contribution. See note 44 about the hydreuma of
Apollo.
56. This is also confirmed by the small quantity of pottery from the surface of other road stops:
Sidebotham 1997a, p. 390.
57. The concentration of gold mines apparently used in the Ptolemaic period between the
Barramiya region and Marsa Alam is striking in Klemm and Klemm 2013, p. 613, Fig. 7.6. See also
Figure 1.
58. Bagnall et al.1996, p. 320.
59. Seeger 2001, pp. 77-88.
60. See the article by J.-P. Brun in this volume.
61. Already noted by Sidebotham 2011, p. 29.
62. Moreover, most of the Ptolemaic inscriptions refer rather to the exploitation of gold in the
region (such as I.Ko.Ko 158 which evokes “Pan Gold Giver and of the good journey”: Cuvigny and
Bülow-Jacobsen 2000, p. 244).
63. Fournet 1995.
64. Klemm and Klemm 2013, pp. 140-141.
65. Id., pp. 160-161.
66. Id., pp. 161-168.
67. See note 2.
68. We should not conclude that Coptos had no role in the management of the Eastern Desert at
the beginning of the Ptolemaic period. The city retained the important role it held during the
Pharaonic era (Vercoutter 1959, pp. 120-153) and is the subject of the attention of the first rulers
of Alexandria (see the article by L. Pantalacci in this volume). A large coin hoard (more than 438
silver tetradrachms) was buried there around 295 BC (IGCH 1670), which demonstrates the
economic and / or strategic value of Coptos from the reign of Ptolemy I, and its importance
which is also evidenced by the inscription relating to the passage of the Dioiketes Apollonios in
the city around 246 BC (I.Portes 47). Later, an inscription dated from the reign of Ptolemy VIII
mentions the “Coptos Mountains”, through which goods were imported from the Red Sea: I.Pan
du desert 86 l. 10-11 (130 BC). The inscription could have been found at Coptos and indicates that
the roads culminated at that time at Coptos.
69. The Coptos-Berenike axis probably did not exist in the Ptolemaic period: De Romanis 1996,
pp. 731-745; Cuvigny and Bülow-Jacobsen et al. 1999, pp. 134-135 and 165 for the only attestation
of the presence of a merchant on this axis in the Ptolemaic period.
70. Hypothesis already mentioned by De Romanis 1996, pp. 132-136. If this date is proven,
perhaps the date of the foundation of Myos Hormos –still uncertain– should be fixed at that time.
The city is mentioned for the first time by Agatharchides in the late second century BC and by
49
Artemidorus in the following century, quoted by Strabo (XVI, 4, 5). The excavation of the Qusayr
el-Qadim site has not yielded Ptolemaic levels (see the article by L. Blue in this volume). However,
sporadic findings suggest that the Ptolemaic Myos Hormos is under the modern city of Qusayr
(ditto).
71. If the road and its organization apparently centralized by the Ptolemaic administration was
abandoned, it should be pointed out that the southern part of the Eastern Desert was not
deserted after the revolt of Upper Egypt. Thus, the site of El-Kanaïs was still in use in the second
part of the Hellenistic period (but inscriptions are significantly fewer than in the third century
BC. A number of entries dated by A. Bernand of the “late Ptolemaic period” are based on
palaeographic criteria that would have to be reviewed). Several other way stations listed on our
map may also have experienced some traffic (see J. Gates-Foster's contribution), but only their
archaeological exploration will make it possible to confirm this. The excavations of the fort of
Abbad in January 2017 and 2018 proved that it has been systematically reoccupied after its
abandonment at the end of the 3rd century BC, during the second half of the Ptolemaic period, at
the beginning of the Roman era and during the Late Byzantine period (unpublished).
72. This development in the equipping of the routes of the Eastern Desert could be explained by
the abandonment of hunting expeditions for elephants at the end of the third century BC, by the
withdrawal (or part) of the Ptolemaic troops from the desert or by a change in the nature and
organization of Red Sea-Indian Ocean trade. However, our sources are too evasive –and the
exploration of the Samut district did not provide any really useful information on this– so that
we can study this phenomenon more precisely at this stage of our research.
AUTHOR
Bérangère Redon
ORCID: 0000-0003-4834-0269
Researcher at CNRS, HiSoMA, UMR 5189 Lyon
50
Ptolemaic Gold: the Exploitation of

Gold in the Eastern Desert
Thomas Faucher
1 The history of the exploitation of gold in Egypt does not begin with the arrival of
Alexander in Egypt. Beginning in the pre-dynastic period, miners recovered nuggets
from the depths of the wâdis. The exploitation of gold reached a first peak in the New
Kingdom, and the mention of gold levies and the results of expeditions are well known
especially in the reign of Thutmose III.1 Despite the reserves accumulated by Alexander
when he took over the Persian treasures and the part recovered by Ptolemy I, the
Ptolemies carried out a series of mining expeditions in the Eastern Desert, in search of
the precious metal, following the footsteps of the Pharaohs of the New Kingdom. In this
paper, geographical and chronological boundaries of these expeditions will be
explored, based on the latest archaeological research, and we will try also to present
the most technical aspects of the production of gold under the Ptolemies.
Geological, geographical and chronological context

2 The geology of gold has improved considerably over the past 20 years, mainly due to
the growing interest of investors and, consequently, the search for new deposits. The
occurrences of gold are all in the pre Cambrian shield which lies in the eastern part of
the Eastern Desert, closer to the Red Sea (Fig. 1).2 The deposits are often associated with
large faults, shear or volcanic rocks. To put it simply, there are two major types of
deposits exploited in antiquity. Auriferous quartz veins, where the rock has been
extracted either in open-pits or galleries, and alluvial gold, resulting from the erosion
of veins, which is found in the wâdis in the form of placer deposits, where the sand is
washed to find gold flakes, or where chunks of quartz that have already been eroded
are recovered and contain high levels of gold. Locating and exploiting gold deposits by
the ancients was facilitated by the almost total absence of vegetation and by the white
colour of the quartz, which was clearly distinct from the very dark volcanic rocks.
51
3 The gold-rich areas are from the south of the Qena-Safaga road to northern Sudan but
gold zones extended much further south. The references to Kush and Punt3 refer at
least to Arabia, Ethiopia and Eritrea, and perhaps even to Somalia and Uganda.4
Fig. 1
Mining sites and presence of gold quartz in the Eastern Desert, according
to Boutros 2004.
© All rights reserved
4 In the Ptolemaic period, it is difficult to define a chronological framework that clearly

delineates the beginning and the end of the exploitation of gold. The latest research on
the site of Samut has shown that in the early days of the dynasty under Ptolemy I, at
the end of the fourth century BC, expeditions were already taking place in the Eastern
Desert. The exploitation continued, presumably sporadically, at least throughout the
third and the second century. Archaeological findings have not documented
exploitation in the first century BC, however, the few sites excavated do not make it
possible to be sure on this point. It is even more necessary to be cautious after the
recent excavations, which have shown that dating offered by surface sampling on
surveys does not provide entirely reliable data.
5 However, we should not draw hasty conclusions about the golden wealth of the
Potlemaic kings. If exploitation was less significant in the first century, this does not
necessarily mean that Egypt's kings lacked gold. We must remember this day of August
29 BC, in Rome, when piles of gold were exhibited after Octavian’s transfer of the
treasury of Cleopatra, which aroused much excitement as it was carried through the
streets of the Roman capital, not to mention the inflation that its influx caused.5
6 The exploitation of the Eastern Desert’s mineral resources by the Ptolemies rests
essentially on a resumption of earlier works, mainly those carried out during the New
52
Kingdom period. The establishment of considerable resources by the Ptolemies enabled

the quasi-industrial exploitation of sites that had certainly not been systematically
exploited previously. But contrary to the work carried out under the more or less direct
orders of the Pharaohs, the map of mining sites exploited during the Ptolemaic period
shows that gold mining was limited to the territory of modern Egypt, and direct traces
of Ptolemaic exploitation cannot be seen further south, in Sudan for example.
The forms of exploitation of gold quartz in the Eastern

Desert
7 The important contribution of the work of Rosemarie and Dietrich Klemm in the
1980s-90s and published in 2013 should be highlighted here.6 The two German
scientists, following their exploration work, first in the Eastern Desert of Egypt and
then in Sudan, recorded nearly 250 production sites.7 The number is impressive but the
interest of their work lies mainly in the fact that the Klemms were able to visit the sites
before the great gold rush of recent years. Indeed, the Egyptian Revolution of 2011
opened the doors of the desert and allowed a very large number of people to come and
search for gold there. First limited to non-industrial activity, the last two years have
seen the use of heavy equipment, such as bulldozers and excavators, which has caused
and continues to cause irreversible damage. Just as the Ptolemies did before them,
modern gold diggers visit sites already known and exploited in antiquity. The result is a
massive destruction of these sites, both of the veins and production spaces, and also of
the associated settlements. To give just one example (but they could be multiplied) the
site of Barramiya has totally disappeared under the bulldozers of the gold diggers. This
phenomenon, which is not merely an Egyptian phenomenon, but an African
phenomenon as a whole, has provoked and continues to constitute a major loss for the
history of the archaeology of the Eastern Desert.
8 R. and D. Klemm, respectively a ceramologist and geologist, travelled across much of
the Eastern Desert. The main problem faced by the two researchers was their inability,
in a significant number of cases, to date precisely the sites on which they were located.
They experienced the limitations of surface prospecting. Prior research at the mining
district of Samut,8 a single site, Bir Umm Fawakhir, 9 has been the subject of
archaeological excavations. It is, therefore, difficult to draw a map of the exploitation
of gold at the time of the Ptolemies since the proposed dates were often based on lithic
material that is extremely difficult to date precisely, and which was used to crush ore
containing gold.
9 In addition, the studies focused on the exploitation of quartz veins. These exploitations
are often widely visible due to the holes that the miners left following the extraction of
the quartz, and which attracted the attention of the inhabitants of the region who often
served as guides to the prospectors. The exploitation of alluvial gold, which is found at
the bottom of wâdis or in placer deposits, is much more difficult to detect. There are
often only the huts that sheltered the miners and some millstones and anvils, traces of
the work carried out on the spot. The ceramic material does not help either, since it is
generally extremely poor, like at the villages of the New Kingdom of Samut el Beda and
at the beginning of the Islamic period at Samut North.
53
10 The main characteristic of the production of gold in the Ptolemaic period seems to be
work on the veins (without excluding the possibility of an exploitation of alluvial gold)
linked to impressive installations and an abundance of resources and manpower. Work
seems to be organized there, directed in a more focused way than in other periods,
even if we know that expedition, directly controlled by the Pharaoh were launched
during Pharaonic times.
The production of gold

11 The originality of the Egyptian gold mines, when compared with others of the same
period, lies in the existence of a text describing in an extremely precise manner their
exploitation. Agatharchides of Cnidus provides the most detailed description of the
chaîne opératoire, a succession of steps that led from ore to gold metal. Agatharchides
was probably present in Egypt around 170 BC.10 He wrote a treatise on the Red Sea in five
volumes, now lost. His work is known only from passages in Diodorus11 and especially
in the Library of Photius, written in the ninth century in Constantinople.12 This last text
seems to be the most accurate, the author regularly punctuating his text with “he
said,” suggesting that he had direct access to the original.13 I, passages from Diodorus
are often used without Agatharchides being specifically mentioned. It is not known
whether Agatharchides saw the mines himself (his accounts of Ethiopia are hearsay
since he has apparently not travelled beyond Upper Egypt), but the description he
makes of their operation is quite precise and extremely informative.
12 It would be too long here to repeat the text of Agatharchides. On the other hand, it is
interesting to illustrate his remarks through the most recent archaeological discoveries
and, thus, to summarize the different steps that ancient miners followed, from the raw
ore, to gold ingots.
13 The first step, says Agatharchides, is the extraction of quartz:
“The gold-bearing earth which is hardest they first burn with a hot fire, and when
they have crumbled it in this way they continue the working of it by hand; and the
soft rock which can yield to moderate effort is crushed with a sledge by myriads of
unfortunate wretches. And the entire operations are in charge of a skilled worker
who distinguishes the stone and points it out to the labourers; and of those who are
assigned to this unfortunate task the physically strongest break the quartz-rock
with iron hammers, applying no skill to the task, but only force, and cutting tunnels
through the stone, not in a straight line but wherever the seam of gleaming rock
may lead. Now these men, working in darkness as they do because of the bending
and winding of the passages, carry lamps bound on their foreheads; and since much
of the time they change the position of their bodies to follow the particular
character of the stone they throw the blocks, as they cut them out, on the ground;
and at this task they labour without ceasing beneath the sternness and blows of an
overseer.”14
14 The strongest men, then, were led by supervisors who told them which way to go. The
mention of fire-setting, as seen in the text of Agatharchides, is doubtful. No trace of the
use of fire (a technique well known in mining in the West)15 is attested in the Eastern
Desert and observations conducted in Samut corroborate this. The use of wood, rare
and precious in these regions, and the fact that the surrounding rock (around the vein)
is friable, leads one to wonder about the merits of this description.
54
15 Traces of exploitation are usually clearly visible, which provides the possibility of
locating them on satellite photographs (Fig. 2a and 2b).16 They take the form of large
crevasses and demonstrate, through depressions, exploitation of the vein. The quartz
veins were visible on the surface. They were first dug in the form of trenches in open
air, then in galleries. The various explorations carried out in the Eastern Desert have
shown that these galleries do not exceed 15 or 20 metres in depth. These observations
are confirmed by the study of the exploitation at Samut North where the deepest traces
are due to a resumption of activity in the modern era. There are, indeed, wells on the
site of deep mines of some sixty metres. Their openings date from the early twentieth
century at a time when the Eastern Desert experienced renewed interest and when
British mining companies explored the ancient sites.
Fig. 2a
Satellite view of the Samut North site; the exploited vein is clearly visible
(NNO orientation, small transverse trenches are modern).
© MAFDO, Geo Eye-1
Fig. 2b
55
Phantom of the quartz vein.

© MAFDO, Th. Faucher
16 The discoveries on the site of Samut highlight the description of Agatharchides. Black
glazed ware lamps were uncovered, which have a deep reservoir, which allowed the
miner to have a significant degree of independence underground, and regularly have
engraved letters on them, signalling ownership of the object. At the beginning of the
gallery, it was possible to observe a niche dug in the rock that served as a support for
the lamp when the worker was at work. Close to the main vein, between two large
buildings on the site, excavations identified the remains of a forge. Excavations showed
important traces of activity: a thick layer of white ash beneath which stood an oven, a
quenching pit and an anvil where the blacksmith could work. At the entrance of this
stone hut, a large rock preserved traces of wear and tear of tool sharpening. In
addition, at the excavations of Bi’r Samut Fort in 2016, three mining tools were
unearthed: a pick, a mallet and a anvil, in iron as Agatharchides indicates (Fig. 3).
Fig. 3
56
Sledgehammer, pickaxe and anvil found in Bi'r Samut.

© MAFDO, A. Bülow-Jacobsen
17 The second stage involves grinding and crushing of the mineral extracted from the
vein. Men over thirty years old17 are responsible for the operation:
“Then those who are above thirty years of age take this quarried stone from them
and with iron pestles pound a specified amount of it in stone mortars, until they
have worked it down to the size of a vetch.”
18 Again, excavations at Samut provided a significant number of sorting and crushing
areas. They are most often seen as areas where the rocks have been removed and where
there are small piles of stones. In these areas workers ground the ore. In several places,
these areas are associated with lithic material: anvil tables, mortars and pestles. It is
probable that iron tools were largely supplemented by lithic tools. They were
commonly used as they were cheaper and more accessible.
19 In the chaîne opératoire, the following stage is reserved mainly for women and older
men:
“Thereupon the women and older men receive from them the rock of this size and
cast it into mills of which a number stand there in a row, and taking their places in
groups of two or three at the spoke or handle of each mill they grind it until they
have worked down the amount given them to the consistency of the finest flour.”
20 It is a matter of grinding the quartz grains into the form of flour. The finer the flour,
the more effective the next step. This step was carefully carried out as we were able to
observe it by studying the granulometry of flour found on the site. Indeed, waste from
washings found in the Umayyad camp in Samut North are made up of an extremely fine
flour, mainly composed of grains of 50 to 100 microns. In the Ptolemaic period, the
workers favoured the use of grinding stones with “ears.” The assembly consists of two
stones, a dormant millstone, concave and weighing about fifty kilograms (Fig. 4a),
57
sometimes more, and a lighter, convex, loose grindstone, weighing between 10 and 20
kilos (Fig. 4b); the two were most often made of granite. The reciprocating action of the
grinding stone on the dormant stone made it possible to grind the quartz grains and
obtain very fine flour, despite the simplicity of the operation. The discoveries of such
stones are the first sign of mining. Following the study of the site of Samut North, ten
millstones were discovered. The excavations at Bir Samut have uncovered almost 600 of
them, almost all within the walls of the fort, which demonstrates the industrial nature
of these sites.
Fig. 4a
Dormant grindstone.
Fig. 4b
Grinding stone “with ears.”
58
21 Alongside these individual stones, there are much larger structures used to grind the
ore. These buildings have often been interpreted as washeries,18 as the first surveys of
the site of Samut had initially suggested.19 However, excavations have confirmed that
these structures were mills.20 We are indebted to S. Sidebotham for being the first to
have correctly interpreted this structure, as part of their surveys around the site of
Compasi-Tel Daghbag.21 Among the examples found around the eastern Mediterranean,
the Samut mill is the best preserved (fig 5). It clearly shows the place made for the
central hub as well as the track of the wheel that passed over the stones inside the
rotunda. The data provided by the excavations of the Samut buildings demonstrate that
the operating life of the site was extremely short, not more than a few seasons. The
wear of the mills does not contradict this since the traces left by the millstone in the
west rotunda are tenuous while it seems that the structure was barely used.
Fig. 5
The stone mills of Samut North.

© MAFDO, G. Pollin
22 After reducing the ore to powder, the miners had to wash it to extract the heaviest
particles, by gravitation:
“In the last steps the skilled workmen receive the stone which has been ground to
powder and take it off for its complete and final working; for they rub the marble
which has been worked down upon a broad board which is slightly inclined,
pouring water over it all the while; whereupon the earthy matter in it, melted away
by the action of the water, runs down the inclined board, while that which contains
the gold remains on the wood because of its weight. And repeating this a number of
times, they first of all rub it gently with their hands, and then lightly pressing it
with sponges of loose texture they remove in this way whatever is porous and
earthy, until there remains only the pure gold-dust. there remains only the pure
gold-dust.”
23 There are few archaeological traces of this washing. For this link in the chain of
operation, Agatharchides’ text is more useful than archaeology since no trace of the
washing of gold from the time of the Ptolemies has survived. In any event, no sluicing
59
table of the type Agatharchides mentions has been discovered in the Eastern Desert for
that period. On the other hand, these structures are known for the Islamic period; from
Sudan and Egypt, some of these sluicing tables have survived.22 They are most
commonly inclined planes of stone with two basins, for collecting the water. Details
such as wooden planks or other materials which might have covered them are
unknown. Still, a number of more recent sites have tailings, which are residues from the
washings that are found in the form of piles.
24 It is possible, in the absence of sluicing tables, that this operation took place in the
valley, where water was abundant. In this case, there remains the problem of
transporting the flour over large distances, more than 100 km in the case of Samut.
Excavation of the site did not answer this question.
25 We need not dwell here on the condition of miners, since other sources deal with this.
Agatharchides notes that “For the kings of Egypt gather together and condemn to the
mining of the gold such as have been found guilty of some crime and captives of war, as
well as those who have been accused unjustly and thrown into prison because of their
anger, and not only such persons but occasionally all their relatives as well, by this
means not only inflicting punishment upon those found guilty but also securing at the
same time great revenues from their labours.” The dormitories found at Samut confirm
the condition of our miners. The drama of their living conditions is particularly
highlighted by Photius, and is a recurrent theme in his work.23
Quantification and Provenance Studies of Egyptian

Gold
26 This chain of operations had but one objective, to produce gold, and gold in quantity. It
is difficult to know the quantities produced by the Ptolemies, mainly because the vast
majority of the sites were exploited before and after the Hellenistic period. However,
estimates have been made. For the Samut site, F. Téreygeol and his team estimated the
total production of the vein at nearly 100 kg (the calculation is simple: the volume of
quartz taken multiplied by its gold content). In a broader context, Egypt would have
produced, from time immemorial, nearly 1,700 tons of gold, Africa as a whole nearly
4,000 tons of the 10,000 tons produced in antiquity.24 The share of the Ptolemies in this
production would amount to perhaps 300 tons, though it is not possible to be certain of
that figure which must be taken as a rough estimate. In an even more global context,
this represents only a tiny fraction of the total gold produced to date (186,000 tons up
to 2014).
Dissemination of the gold of the Eastern Desert

27 The description by Callixenus Rhodes (quoted by Athenaeus) of the procession at
Ptolemaia, contests organized by Ptolemy II Philadelphus, gives us an idea.25 Crowns,
statues, and vases of all kinds circulated in chariots pushed by hundreds of men. The
temples also possessed a significant part: the obelisks were covered with gold, as well as
the statues, statuettes, and various offerings.
28 From their gold, we know that the Ptolemies also struck coins, some heavy, such as the
mnaieia, which weighed nearly 30 g of pure gold.26 But how can we distinguish amongst
60
all this gold what part comes from the gold found in the crates at the arrival of the
Ptolemies, from ancient levies, such as the hundreds of tonnes of gold that Alexander
confiscated on his arrival in Babylon and of which Ptolemy recovered a significant
share; or from various taxes, especially those imposed on foreign merchants who
arrived at the port of Alexandria; or finally from the production of the mines of the
Eastern Desert?
29 The analysis of metal composition has made considerable progress during the last two
decades.27 Chemists of the nineteenth and the first half of the twentieth century were
only studying the major elements that made up objects and coins, chiefly gold, silver
and copper: today researchers can now rely on analytical methods that show very
precisely the content of the major elements on the one hand, and on the other hand,
trace elements, such as the metals contained in gold in infinitesimal quantities, often
close to the ppm (part per million).
30 The coinage struck by the Ptolemies constitutes an important contribution in recent
years (Fig. 6). First, the numismatic studies carried out on the different series of the
Ptolemies struck until the middle of the second century BC allow us to quantify the
gold minted by the kings. Without going into the details of these calculations, one can
estimate that several million gold coins were struck by the Ptolemies, representing
between 50 and 100 tons of gold. Whatever the calculations may be, studies show that
the gold used for minting coins constituted only a small part of all the gold
accumulated by the royal treasury. Looking at the supply of gold and these coin series,
the recent studies, focusing particularly on the platinum elements preserved in the
coins, have shown that two monetary series (the geminal and trychrisa) may have
benefited from the “new” gold contribution deriving from the mines.28 We can
legitimately think to have come from the Eastern Desert, while the other series were
perhaps minted with metal from the treasury accumulated by Alexander.
Fig. 6
61
Mnaeion gold portrait of Ptolemy III.

© Th. Faucher
31 Obviously, we must not neglect successive reuses. We know that, in earlier periods, the
treasures of the Pharaohs had already been looted by Assurbanipal and several
dozen tons were transported to Assyria, meaning that the gold at that time must have
been melted down and a mixture of gold stock from different sources added.29 However,
differences are visible, and the characterization of the gold from the gold mines of the
Eastern Desert may enable us to know more precisely the origins of certain objects of
the Hellenistic kings.
Conclusion
32 The Ptolemies, from the time of their rise to power, invested considerable resources to
the exploitation of gold in the Eastern Desert of Egypt. The introduction of new
workspaces, the organization of work, and technological advances enabled them to re-
exploit mines, which had been known for a long time and which yielded substantial
revenues. The technology resulting from the knowledge gained, especially in Greece,
allowed the Ptolemies to consider their exploitation in an organized way and to move
to industrial-scale enterprises.
33 The excavations carried out for three years in the district of Samut have brought new
knowledge about this organization, and specific information on their chronological
framework. There is no doubt that other excavations carried out on mining sites,
combined with analyses of metallic composition, will make it possible to compare the
texts with the archaeological realities and, thus, to lead to a finer knowledge of the
history of the Eastern Desert in ancient times.
62
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Blet-Lemarquand M. 2014. Nieto-Pelletier S., Sarah G. “L'or et l'argent monnayés”. In

Circulation et provenance des matériaux dans les sociétés anciennes. Ph. Dillmann and
L. Bellot-Gurlet (eds.), Paris, pp. 133-159.
Botros N.G. 2002. “Metallogeny of Gold in relation to the Evolution of the Nubian Shield
in Egypt”. Ore Geology Review 19, pp. 137-164.
Botros N.G. 2004. “A new Classification of the Gold Deposits in Egypt”. Ore Geology Review
25, pp. 1-37.
Brun J.-P. et al. 2013. “Les mines d’or ptolémaïques. Résultats des prospections dans le
district minier de Samut (désert Oriental) ”, BIFAO 113, pp. 111-141.
de Callataÿ F. 2006. “Réflexions quantitatives sur l’or et l’argent non monnayés à
l’époque hellénistique (pompes, triomphes, réquisitions, fortunes des temples,
orfèvrerie et masses métalliques disponibles) ”. In Approches sur l’économie hellénistique.
R. Descat et al., (éds.), Entretiens d’Archéologie et d’Histoire Saint Bertrand de
Comminges 7, Saint Bertrand de Comminges, pp. 37-84.
Dubois C. 1996. “L'ouverture par le feu dans les mines : histoire, archéologie et
expérimentations”. Revue d'Archéométrie 20, pp. 33-34.
Duyrat F., Olivier J. 2010. “Deux politiques de l’or. Séleucides et lagides au IIIe siècle
avant J.-C. ”. Revue numismatique, vol. 6, n° 166, pp. 71-93.
Engelbert Mveng P. 1965. “Les Sources de l'Histoire Négro africaine : Agatharchide De
Cnide, Africa”. Rivista trimestrale di studi e documentazione dell'Istituto italiano per l'Africa e
l'Oriente 20, n° 1, pp. 33-39.
Faucher Th. 2014. “Compte rendu de R. et D. Klemm, Gold and Gold Mining in Ancient
Egypt and Nubia (2013) ”. Topoi 19/1, pp. 829-836.
Gabolde L., Gabolde M. 2015. “Les textes de la paroi sud de la salle des Annales de
Thoutmosis III”. In Un savant au pays du fleuve-dieu. Hommages égyptologiques à Paul
Barguet, Kyphi 7, pp. 45-110.
Hume W.F. 1934-1937. The Geology of Egypt, II, The Fundamental Pre-Cambrian Rocks of Egypt
and the Sudan, Cairo.
Hume W.F. 1907. A preliminary report on the geology of the Eastern Desert of Egypt between
latitude 22° N. and 25° N., Cairo.
Klemm R., Klemm D. 2013. Gold and Gold Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Geoarchaeology
of the Ancient Gold Mining Sites in the Egyptian and Sudanese Eastern Deserts, Berlin,
Heidelberg.
Marchand J. et al. Forthcoming. “L’exploitation de l’or en Égypte au début de l’époque
islamique : l’exemple de Samut”. In Les métaux précieux en Méditerranée médiévale.
Marcotte D. 2001. “Structure et caractère de l'œuvre historique d'Agatharchide”.
Historia, 50, pp. 385-435.
Marcotte D. 2017. “Les mines d’or des Ptolémées : d’Agatharchide aux archives de
Photios”. Journal des Savants, pp. 3-49.
63
Meyer C. 1998. “Gold Miners and Mining at Bir Umm Fawakhir”. In Social Approaches to
an Industrial Past: The Archaeology and Anthropology of Mining. A.B. Knapp, V. Pigott,
E. Herbert (eds.), pp. 258-275.
Meyer C. 2011. Bir Umm Fawakhir, Volume 2: Report on the 1996-1997 Survey Seasons,
Oriental Institute Communications 30.
Micunco S. 2008. La géographie dans la Bibliothèque de Photios : le cas d'Agatharchide, Thèse
inédite, Reims.
Ogden J. 2000. “Metals”. In Ancient Egyptian materials and technology. P. Nicholson and
I. Shaw (Eds.), pp. 148-176.
Olivier J., Lorber C. 2013. “Three gold coinages of third-century Ptolemaic Egypt”. RBN
CLIX, pp. 49-150.
Peremans W. 1967. “Diodore de Sicile et Agatharchide de Cnide”. Historia: Zeitschrift Für
Alte Geschichte 16 (4), pp. 432-455.
Phillips J. 1997. “Punt and Aksum: Egypt and the Horn of Africa”. The Journal of African
History 38.3, pp. 423-457.
Quiring H.1948. Geschichte des Goldes: die Goldenen Zeitalter in ihrer kulturellen und
wirtschaftlichen Bedeutung, Stuttgart.
Redon B., Faucher Th. 2016. “Samut North: ‘heavy mineral processing plants’ are mills!
”. Egyptian Archaeology, 48, pp. 7-9.
Redon B., Faucher Th. 2015. “Gold mining in Early Ptolemaic Egypt”. Egyptian
Archaeology, 46, pp. 17-19.
Sidebotham S.E., Hense M., Nouwens H.M. 2008. The Red Land: The Illustrated Archaeology
of Egypt's Eastern Desert.
Suspène A. Forthcoming. Qui croire ? Textes et monnaies dans la Rome post ancienne. Actes
du colloque Money Rules ! tenu à Orléans les 29-31 octobre 2015.
Téreygeol F. 1998. Les mines de Melle (Deux-Sèvres) : une expérimentation d'attaque au feu in
situ, dans L'innovation technique au Moyen Âge. Actes du VIe Congrès international
d'archéologie médiévale (1-5 Octobre 1996, Dijon-Mont Beuvray-Chenôve-Le Creusot-
Montbard), Caen, Société d'archéologie médiévale, pp. 111-113.
Vercoutter J. 1959. “The Gold of Kush. Two Gold-Washing Stations at Faras East”. Kush
7, pp. 120-153.
Woelk D. 1966. Agatharchides von Knidos. Über das Rote Meer. Uebersetzung und Kommentar,
Fribourg.
FOOTNOTES
1. Scenes of offerings and gold weighing appear regularly in the Theban tombs where Nubians
are depicted loaded with gold in different forms (ingots, rings, powder...).The most explicit text is
inscribed on the south wall of the Annals Hall at Karnak; see most recently Gabolde, Gabolde
2015, pp. 45-110.
2. See the presentation of the geology of the region in Brun et al. 2013, pp. 111-141. Geological
articles on specific sites are extremely numerous; for a general overview, see Botros 2002,
pp. 137-164; Botros 2004, pp. 1-37. For a general map of the geology of Egypt: http://
gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b530648389.
3. Vercoutter 1959, pp. 120-153. On Punt, see especially Phillips 1997, pp. 423-457.
64
4. References may refer to the southern part of Egypt especially as the inhabitants of these
regions certainly acted as intermediaries for the southernmost tribes, cf. Phillips 1997, p. 437.
5. Suet. Aug. 41, 1-2. On this subject, Suspène forthcoming.
6. Klemm and Klemm 2013; Faucher 2014, pp. 829-836.
7. Note the pioneering work before them of Hume (Hume 1934-1937); id., 1907.
8. French Archaeological Mission of the Eastern Desert (MAFDO) led by Berangere Redon see in
this volume.
9. Although excavations have focused more on housing than on mining, see among others:
Meyer 1998, pp. 258-275. For publication website: Meyer 2011.
10. Marcotte 2017.
11. Diodore, III, 12-14. Peremans 1967, pp. 432-455.
12. Photius 250, 23-29. Engelbert Mveng 1965, pp. 33-39.
13. Micunco 2008. These two texts will soon be translated in a publication on Samut north,
forthcoming.
14. These citations were taken from The Library of History of Diodorus Siculus published in
Vol. II of the Loeb Classical Library edition, 1935.
15. Dubois 1996, pp. 33-34; Téreygeol 1998, pp. 111-113.
16. Brun et al. 2013, pp. 111-141.
17. On this point, the texts of Diodore and Photius diverge, Photius, volume VII, Paris, 1974,
note 7, p. 127.
18. Klemm, Klemm 2013, pp. 14, 167, 241-243.
19. Brun et al, 2013 p. 122.
20. Redon, Faucher 2016, pp. 7-9.
21. Sidebotham, Hense, Nouwens 2008, p. 219: “Our surveys also found large circular ore
grinding facilities that Diodorus does not describe, at the site of Daghbag.”
22. Even if their state of conservation is often poor, the list of the findings is long enough:
Klemm, Klemm 2013, pp. 58-60, 66-67, 97,115, 117, 122, 180-182, 193, 252, 288-290, 296, 301,
319-322, 331.
23. Micunco 2008, pp. XXV-XXVI.
24. Quiring 1948.
25. Athenaeus of Naucratis, Deipnosophists, XII, pp. 549-550. On the quantity of metal in the
Hellenistic grand royal processions, see Callataÿ 2006, pp. 37-84.
26. See notably Olivier, Lorber 2013, pp. 49-150, but also Duyrat, Olivier 2010, pp. 71-93.
27. Blet-Lemarquand, Nieto-Pelletier, Sarah 2014, pp. 133-159.
28. Duyrat, Olivier 2010, p. 87.
29. Gabolde, Gabolde 2015, pp. 90-92.
AUTHOR
Thomas Faucher
Researcher CNRS, IRAMAT-CEB, UMR 5060 Orléans
65
A Survey of Place-Names in the

Egyptian Eastern Desert during the
Principate according to the Ostraca
and the Inscriptions1
Hélène Cuvigny
1 The sole purpose of this study is to take stock of the progress made on the toponymy of
the Eastern Egyptian Desert through the ostraca found in the excavations of Roman
sites in which I took part between 1987 and 2012 (Fig. 1). Ostraca, published and
unpublished, to which I will refer, come from the quarry sites of Mons Claudianus and
Domitiane/Kaine Latomia (Umm Balad), two forts (praesidia) on the road from Koptos to
Myos Hormos (Maximianon and Krokodilo), and three praesidia on the road from
Koptos to Berenike (Didymoi, Dios and Xeron). I occasionally take into account the
ostraca of Porphyrites and Myos Hormos.2 I also refer to names read on Greek ostraca
found recently in Biʾr Samut, a fort along the road from Apollonos Polis (Edfu) to
Berenike; Biʾr Samut was founded under Ptolemy II or III, and abandoned under
Ptolemy IV.3
Fig. 1
66
The Eastern Desert in Roman times.

© Jean-Pierre Brun
2 These documents, many of which are still unpublished, have yielded a small corpus of
new or already known toponyms, but some of the latter had been distorted by the
Medieval manuscript tradition. The classical main sources on place-names in the
Eastern Desert up to now were:
- the description of the road from Koptos to Berenike by Pliny the Elder, informed by
negotiatores, in the state in which it was found in AD 50, i.e. before the wells
(hydreumata) were fortified into praesidia under Vespasian (Nat. 6.102-103);
- the list of stages on this route in three itineraries taken from the manuscript
tradition: Antonine Itinerary (172-173 ed. Parthey, Pinder), Peutinger Table, Anonymous of
Ravenna (2.7.4 ed. Schnetz).
- Ptolemy’s Geography for the coast of the Red Sea (4.5.14-15) and the desert (4.5.27).4
I. The Administrative districts of the Eastern Desert

under the Early Roman Empire
3 Our ostraca come from a geographical area, which, in the Roman period, seems to have
consisted of two distinct administrative sectors with different purposes. The most
southerly is the best defined and the one for which the administrative structure is the
most stable and the best known. The Romans called it Mons Berenicidis or Mons Berenices,
which does not mean “Mountain”, but “Desert of Berenike,” the Latin mons being,
through the Greek ὄροc, the loan translation of an Egyptian word, ḏw, which means
both desert and mountain.5 The Desert of Berenike, named after its most active port,
was crossed by the roads to Myos Hormos and Berenike, both of which departed from
the Nile valley at Koptos. They represented a terrestrial segment of one of the main
67
trade routes with the Erythraean world. From Vespasian’s time, they were equipped
with fortified wells, each headed by a curator praesidii. The curators were placed under
the direct authority of the prefect of Berenike, who was an imperial procurator. These
territorial prefects, whose prosopography has been enriched, often added to their
procuratorship a military command, the prefecture of the cavalry wing stationed in
Koptos.
4 In the ostraca of the aforementioned sites, the road to Myos Hormos seems to mark the
northern limit of the Berenike desert. Nevertheless, there is a reference to a prefect of
Berenike north of this road: this is the dedication of the Paneion of Ophiates, a Roman
granite quarry in the Wadi Umm Wikala, a tributary of the Wadi Samna (I.Pan 51);6 it
dates from year 40 of Augustus’ reign (AD 11) and specifies the name of the prefect in
power, Publius Iuventius Rufus, who combines this function with that of
archimetallarches, that is to say, commander in chief of mines and quarries. In AD 11,
Mons Claudianus and Porphyrites have yet to open, and the mineral resources
specifically mentioned (and identified) in the prefect’s titulature, Smaragdos and
Bazion,7 lay south of the Wadi Samna. The inscription, therefore, contains the most
northerly mention of a prefect of Berenike: in fact, there is never any mention of this
official in the ostraca of the granite and porphyry quarries which the Romans opened
later: Porphyrites, Tiberiane, Mons Claudianus, Domitiane/Kaine Latomia. Was this
northern area of the Eastern Desert even an administrative entity? It is not clear, as we
shall see.
5 The exploitation of Mons Claudianus granite and the porphyry of the Porphyrites
caused the Romans to reorganize the road system this region, which had been explored
before the Romans. Gold deposits had been exploited under the New Kingdom and
under the Ptolemies in the area of what would become Mons Claudianus, especially
between the current Qena-Safaga road and Myos Hormos road;8 in this segment of the
Eastern Desert, there are also the amethyst mines of Abu Diyayba, exploited under
Ptolemy VI and still active at the beginning of the Empire. Prior to the founding of
Kaine (Qena), which served as a terminus for the Claudianus and Porphyrites roads, the
mining sites north of Myos Hormos road must have been administered and provisioned
from Koptos, and belonged presumably to what was called in Egyptian ḏw Gbtyw, the
Desert of Koptos. This is the reason why, in my opinion, at the beginning of the Empire,
and before the founding of Kaine, the Berenike Desert includes Ophiates, an early
Roman granite quarry north of what later appears as the northern border of Mons
Berenicidis.
6 The opening of quarries at Porphyrites and Claudianus caused new logistical problems:
it was not a question of taxing and transporting valuable products, but of extracting
multi-ton monoliths and transporting them over a hundred kilometres to the Nile: the
development of a closer embarkation site was necessary and the area, served by its own
road system, had no reason to be commanded by a prefect of Berenike exercising his
authority from Koptos. It was no longer about placing “all the mines and quarries of
Egypt” under his authority. The ostraca from the four metalla that have been excavated,
Claudianus, Porphyrites and their satellites (Tiberiane and Domitiane/Kaine Latomia),
show that these quarries functioned as a network; the staff and labour force were
moved, as needed, from one site to the other. But did this region have a name? A series
of ostraca from Mons Claudianus, receipts for advances to the familia,9 allow us to
suggest a hypothesis.
68
7 The familia is one of two major categories of labour in the quarries of the area. The
other consists of the pagani, who were highly qualified stone-carvers and blacksmiths
of indigenous origin and free status. Of the two categories, the familia is the most
enigmatic. This is, most likely, an imperial familia, so basically slaves of the emperor,
but some of these individuals, who have patronymics or gentilicia, cannot have had
servile status. Their variegated onomastics often denote an origin outside Egypt. In any
case, the familia was employed in tasks that demanded more strength than technical
knowledge. Some of these familiares lived on credit and received advances of food, for
which they were made to sign receipts, on which appeared their administrative
affiliation to a numerus and an arithmos. These two words, the first Latin, the second
Greek, are synonymous in principle (they mean “number”), but in this case, the
arithmos represents a subdivision of a numerus. In the ostraca from Mons Claudianus,
members of the familia almost all belong to the numerus of Porphyrites and the arithmos
of Claudianus; but a few, registered in the arithmos of Tiberiane, worked in this satellite
of Claudianus. Two receipts for advances are exceptional: they are issued by individuals
belonging to another numerus, that of Alabastron:10 they were probably registered in
the rosters of the alabaster quarries of the Hermopolite, which reminds of the existence
at Hermou Polis of an “office of the accountants of Porphyrites and other metalla.”11 If
we project the administrative structure of the familia on the map of the region, it seems
that Porphyrites was not only the name of the metallon where porphyry was extracted,
but referred also to the entire area that was penetrated by the two roads coming from
Kaine.
8 This region of Porphyrites (which remains an hypothesis) did not have the same
administrative structure as the Berenike Desert. It was not under the authority of a
territorial prefect who would have been the counterpart of the prefect of Berenike.
However, in some late ostraca from Claudianus, there appears the word ἔπαρχοc,
“prefect.” It is, unfortunately, not clear whether this is a territorial prefect or the
officer commanding a military unit, wing or cohort. This mysterious prefect forms a
pair with an ἐπίτροποc who is hierarchically lower. This is presumably an ἐπίτροποc
τῶν μετάλλων, thus a procurator metallorum, who was an imperial freedman. We know
the names of two of these prefects. One is called Vibius Alexandros. He receives a
pessimistic letter addressed to him by a noncommissioned officer, left in charge of
Mons Claudianus with the title of vice-curator and many logistical problems on his
hands.12 The ostracon contains the draft of two letters from the vice-curator, one to the
prefect, and a second one on the same subject addressed to the procurator metallorum
Tertullus. The letters date from 5th Phamenoth of year 29 of the reign of Commodus, or
1st March AD 189. Vibius Alexandros happens to be known through a papyrus in Leipzig
as the epistrategos of Heptanomia. In this capacity, he receives a petition dating from
the first months of 189. The cumulation of an epistrategy –a procuratorial post
specifically Egyptian– with a prefecture is not unique: there are two parallels, but they
do not help to decide whether Vibius Alexandros owes his title of prefect to a unit
command or to a territorial prefecture, since both cases are represented.
9 The name of the other prefect who has authority over Mons Claudianus is Antonius
Flavianus. He is the recipient of two letters (drafts) written by the native quarrymen to
announce that two columns are ready (with the help of Sarapis) and that they need to
be sent steel and coal so that they can complete the third.13 This prefect is also assisted
by a procurator. I was surprised to find Antonius Flavianus on an ostracon of the
69
Berenike Desert, coming from the fort of Dios. The name of Antonius Flavianus in the
dative fills the first line of the copy of a letter addressed to him by the curator of Dios.14
The sherd is a fragment of an amphora on which the curator copied the official
correspondence, or perhaps just the letters he sent. In the latter case, it would be a liber
litterarum missarum, but the state of the document does not allow us to be certain. The
title of Antonius Flavianus does not appear, unfortunately. All I can say is that, when
they are detached to the Berenike Desert, the curators have as their direct hierarchical
superior the Prefect of Berenike, and that it is with this official that they exchange
correspondence, except when it is of a purely local nature. Is it possible that the two
areas I have distinguished in the Eastern Desert were, at a given moment, at the end of
the second century or the beginning of the third, under the authority of a single Roman
knight? The possibility remains open, but the state of the documentation does not
allow us to say more. It may simply be a temporary situation, in which Antonius
Flavianus acted as an interim Prefect of Berenike.
II. Analytical classification of Greek and Latin

toponyms
10 To present the toponyms I will use a system of classification by topographical features.
The rules for the formation of toponyms, their syntactic behaviour and thematic
typology vary according to these features (this is not unique to Greek): metalla; quarries
in the narrow sense of extraction sites (λατομίαι); praesidia; wells (ὑδρεύματα); roads;
Red Sea ports. The names bestowed by today’s desert dwellers on the praesidia are
sometimes those of the wadis in which they stand. The ostraca never mention names of
features resorting to physical geography, such as wadis or mountains. Is it a bias of this
kind of source, or did the men sent from the Nile valley, contrary to the Beduins of
today, not bother to bestow names on such features? For these sedentary people, the
desert may have been only a network of human settlements, joined by a limited
number of much trodden roads. The same indifference to geography is reflected in the
fact that no desert place name refers to geographic directions and is called Northern,
Eastern etc. Something.
11 The names used in the Eastern Desert in the Imperial period are mainly known to us
from Greek texts, more rarely from Latin ones. They were almost all created under the
Ptolemies or under the Roman rule, so that some are Latin. Several are in other
languages which we cannot always determine, and we do not know if they were
assigned by the Romans or if they belong to an earlier toponymic substrate.15
12 For the analytical description of toponyms, I have used Dorion, Poirier 1975 and
Löfström, Schabel-Le Corre 2005. In particular, I borrow from the latter the distinction
between appellative and proprial, applied both to nouns and adjectives, for example:
Table 1
noun adjective
ὅρμοc, λατομία, ὕδρευμα, ἄκανθα, cμάραγδοc, φοινικών, μέλαc, μέγαc,

appellative
άλαβάρχηc, πορφυρίτηc, καμπή, πέλαγοc ξηρόc, φαλακρόc
70
Αὔγουcτοc,
proprial Βερενίκη
Κλαυδιανόc
Distinction between appellative and proprial.
13 Another distinction, between generic and specific constituents, is essential in

toponomastics. In the place names of the Eastern Desert, the generics are common
nouns refering to topographic features: ὁδόc, λατομία (and κοπή) μέταλλον, ὅρμοc,
ὄροc, πραιcίδιον, ὕδρευμα.
14 Toponymists are divided on the status that should be given to the generics which
designate features: do they, or do they not, form part of the toponym? In toponymy,
the status of the generic is, indeed, floating. It depends on the feature, on the context of
enunciation, and on the specific element: the nature of the latter (locative/descriptive,
proprial/appellative), its singular or common character, its formal characteristics, and
in particular the number of syllables. In the Sargasso Sea, Sea is part of the name, but it
may be abbreviated to Sargasso, which is not the case for the South China Sea, where the
specific is locative. Mont Blanc cannot be reduced to the specific, but Mount Kilimanjaro is
generally abbreviated to Kilimanjaro and Rocky Mountains to Rockies. For some
toponymists, in the phrase the Town of Manchester, Town is an element of the name,
which is less questionable for Georgetown.
15 In the case of the Eastern Desert, it seemed more effective to consider the generics
listed above as being part of the toponym: this makes it possible to understand better
the differences in their behaviour and in particular the question of solid compounds
(such as Georgetown). Greek city names are often open compounds where the generic
element πόλιc is postpositioned and sometimes elided, whereas the first item, adjective
or noun in the genitive, retains its ending: cf. e.g. Ἡρακλέουc Πόλιc. But the derivative
noun Ἡρακλεοπολίτηc, which refers to the corresponding nome, is a solid compound.
We will see, in the toponymic corpus of the Eastern Desert, that certain generics are
never postpositioned, which is the first stage towards the formation of solid
compounds.
16 Finally, we should note the phenomenon of “transfer” of the generic element, when it
refers to another feature than the one which it names: thus, the place names Μέλαν
Ὄροc, “Black Mountain,” and Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc, “Dry Sea,” do not refer to a mountain or
to a plain, but to praesidia.
III. Metalla
17 In Roman Egypt, μέταλλον signifies a geographical and administrative entity including
extraction sites (λατομίαι) and all the necessary facilities for the work and daily life of
the workers, military and administrative staff (dwelling places, offices, wells, stables,
granaries, sanctuaries, forges, baths, etc.). When metallon designates one of these
entities, it is, in the ostraca from Mons Claudianus, in the singular: ἐν μετάλλῳ
Κλαυδιανῶ ͅ, μέταλλον Τιβεριανόν,16 ἐν μετάλλ(ῳ) Πορφ[υ]ρίτ(ου),17 ἀπὸ μετάλλου
Ἀλαβαcτρίνηc.18 In the papyri, however, this generic is usually in the plural, even when
referring to a specific metallon: τοῖc Πορφυρειτικοῖc καὶ Κλαυδιανοῖc μετάλλοιc (P.Oxy.
71
XLV 3243, 14 [AD 214/215]), τῶν κ α ̣ τ̣ ὰ ̣ τὴν Ἀλαβαcτρίνην μετάλ[λων] (P.Sakaon

24, 2-3 [AD 325]). But, in general, μέταλλον is omitted.
18 The distinction between μέταλλον and λατομία is not always clear-cut: the μέταλλον
Τιβεριανόν quoted above is alternatively designated as Τιβεριανή; the metallon of Umm
Balad is called Καινὴ Λατομία and, not far from there, is Γερμανικὴ Λατομία. The gender
of the specifics Δομιτιανή and Τιβεριανή shows that the implicit generic is λατομία and
one observes that if the dedication of Publius Agathopous in Ophiates evokes πάντων
τῶν μετάλλων τῆc Αἰγύπτου (I.Pan 51 [AD 11]), the parallel inscription that he made at
Wadi al-Hammamat seven years later gives λατόμων πάντων τῆc Αἰγύπτου (I.Ko.Ko. 41),
where the abnormal phrase λατόμων πάντων is considered by Dittenberger, correctly
in my view, as an error for λατομιῶν παcῶν.
Table 2
Imperial reference name of material descriptive anthropophore? uncertain
Βάζιον
Γερμανικὴ Λατομία
Μαργαρίτηc
Δομιτιανή Ἀλαβάρχηc
Ὀφιάτηc Καινὴ Λατομία Ταμόcτυμιc20
Κλαυδιανόν Πέρcου19
Πορφυρίτηc
Τιβεριανή
Cμάραγδοc
Names of metalla in the Eastern Desert: semantic classification.
1. A ghost: the complex toponym “Mons Porphyrites”
19 The familiar names of Mons Claudianus and Mons Porphyrites are in fact poorly
documented. For Mons Claudianus, there is only one example: the dedication in Latin,
on an altar at Mons Claudianus by a centurion appointed directly by the emperor to be in
charge of the metallon.21 The Greek equivalent, which would be τὸ Κλαυδιανὸν Ὄροc, is
not attested. The neuter adjectival noun Κλαυδιανόν is normally used alone, sometimes
preceded by the article; in the rare cases where the generic, normally implicit, is
expressed, it is μέταλλον. Thus, in O.Claud. IV 853, a letter addressed collectively to
Probus, procurator metallorum, the quarrymen working in the metallon of Claudianus call
themselves ἐργαζομένων ἐν μετάλλῳ Κλαυδιανοῦ ( l. Κλαυδιανῶ 22 ͅ ). Exceptionally,
the generic πραιcίδιον replaces μέταλλον: when, probably from the time of Antoninus
Pius onwards,23 the commander of Mons Claudianus on site is no more a centurion, but
a curator, his title is in most cases κουράτωρ Κλαυδιανοῦ, seven times κουράτωρ
μετάλλου Κλαυδιανοῦ, and only twice κουράτωρ πραιcιδίου Κλαυδιανοῦ.24
20 On the other hand, the Latin phrase Mons Porphyrites is not attested in any ancient
sources. In papyrus documents, what we commonly call Mons Porphyrites is simply
called “the Porphyrites,” ὁ Πορφυρίτηc (remember that ὁ πορφυρίτηc is a masculine
noun, meaning “porphyry”: we shall return to the toponymic use of names of
materials). It is the same in the only Latin inscription that mentions it, despite its
solemn character. It adorned the facade of the residence, situated at Hermou Polis, of
the accountants of the mines and quarries: hosp(itium) tabula(riorum) Porphyr(itae) et
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aliorum metallorum.25 The complex toponym Mons Porphyrites has obviously been
created in modern times, either from Latin translations of Ptolemy’s Geography, dating
from the Renaissance, or by analogy with Mons Claudianus (toponym regularly formed
as: generic noun + proprial adjective as specific element). As for the matching Greek
Πορφυρίτηc Ὄροc, which is in the list of Greek place names compiled by Redard,26 this
is also not attested, at least not in the documentary sources (papyri and inscriptions).
No wonder, since it contravenes the rules of the composition of complex toponyms in
Greek: the specific element, if a noun (common as well as proper), is in the genitive. See
Μυὸc Ὄρμοc,27 Ἀπόλλωνοc Ὕδρευμα, Ἡρακλέουc Πόλιc. In Greek as in Latin, complex
toponyms never consist of two nouns of which one is in apposition to the other. But,
what can we say about two passages, by Ptolemy and Palladius, where Πορφυρίτηc is
used with ὄροc?
21 At first, it should be observed that the phrase *Πορφυρίτηc Ὄροc would be all the more
surprising in Greek as the two nouns are of different genders: a phrase indicating that
ὁ Πορφυρίτηc is to be understood as the mountain, not the stone, should be ὁ
Πορφυρίτηc τὸ ὄροc (“the Porphyrites mountain”). Ptolemy’s Geography, as it came to
us, more or less respects this rule in constructed sentences or after a preposition, not –
at least in appearance– in the table of ground coordinates. For example: ὁ Παρναccὸc
ὄροc, but παρὰ τὸν Καρπάτην τὸ ὄροc ... ὁ μὲν Αἶμοc τὸ ὄροc κεῖται. In fact, ὁ
Παρναccὸc ὄροc is not a phrase, but ὄροc is only a gloss directed to the person who is
drawing the map. Therefore, ὁ Παρναccὸc ὄροc is to be understood, not as “Mount
Parnassus” but as “The Parnassus (mountain).” The same reasoning applies to
Ptolemy’s Geography 4.5.15, Cμάραγδοc ὄροc [coordinates], which should be translated
“Emerald (mountain).” Coined by modern scholars, the toponym “Mons Smaragdus” is
an incorrect construction.28 Πορφυρίτηc and Cμάραγδοc are simple toponyms. In the
phrase ὁ Πορφυρίτηc τὸ ὄροc, ὄροc is just an apposition, not the generic element of a
complex toponym.
22 Here is the passage, which is not necessarily free of corruption, where Ptolemy
mentions the Porphyrites (Geogr. 4.5.27).
τὴν δὲ παρὰ τὸν Ἀραβικὸν κόλπον ὅλην παράλιον κατέχουcιν Ἀραβαιγύπτιοι
ἰχθυοφάγοι, ἐν οἷc ὀρειναὶ ῥάχειc
ἥ τε τοῦ Τρωϊκοῦ λίθου ὄρουc (coordinates)
καὶ ἡ τοῦ ἀλαβαcτρηνοῦ ὄρουc (coordinates)
καὶ ἡ τοῦ πορφυρίτου ὄρουc (coordinates)
καὶ ἡ τοῦ μέλανοc λίθου ὄρουc (coordinates)
καὶ ἡ τοῦ βαcανίτου λίθου ὄρουc (coordinates)
“The entire coastline along the Arabian Gulf is inhabited by Arabegyptian fish-
eaters, in whose territory are mountainous massifs: the massif of the mountain of
Trojan stone (...); the one of the mountain of alabaster (...); the one of the mountain
of porphyry (...); the one of the mountain of black stone (...); the one of the
mountain of bekhen stone (...).”
23 The other lines, particularly those where the word λίθοc appears, show that
πορφυρίτου is here the name of the material, not the specific element of a complex
toponym of which the nominative would be ὁ Πορφυρίτηc Ὄροc; πορφυρίτου is a
genitive of material qualifying τοῦ ὄρουc. So we translate this line: “the (mountain
range [ῥάχιc]) of the porphyry mountain.”
24 In Palladius, however, it is difficult to deny the existence of an abnormal phrase of
which the nominative would be ὁ Πορφυρίτηc ὄροc: ὃc τὰ μὲν πρῶτα ἔξω πάcηc
73
Αἰγύπτου καὶ Θηβαΐδοc ἐν τῷ Πορφυρίτῃ ὄρει μόνοc ἀναχωρήcαc κτλ. (Dialogus de vita
Joannis Chrysostomi, ed. Sources Chrétiennes 341, XVII 82). Nevertheless, this
formulation is incorrect. Several explanations can be proposed, among which it is
difficult to make a choice:
(1) The text is corrupt: one should restore ἐν τῷ Πορφυρίτῃ <τῷ> ὄρει.
(2) ὄρει is a gloss aiming at disambiguating Πορφυρίτῃ, but it has migrated into the
text.
(3) As a neuter and masculine item has the same form in the dative, it was perhaps less
necessary to apply the rule ὁ Ὄλυμποc τὸ ὄροc.
(4) Πορφυρίτηc is clearly treated as an adjective. This adjectival use is only attested in
Greek in an inscription from Smyrna, which lists: κείοναc εἰc τὸ ἀλειπτήριον
Cυνναδίουc οβʹ, Νουμεδικοὺc κʹ, πορφυρείταc ϛʹ (IGRR IV 1431 = IK 24/1, 697 [124-138p],
lines 40-42). But at least this masculine word qualifies a masculine noun, which is not
the case with Palladius. I also noted an example in Latin, where the noun (if the
reconstruction l]agonam is correct) is feminine:29 ]agonam/porphyriten/cum basi d(e) s(uo)
d(edit) (CIL XIII 4319). In documents from Egypt, πορφυρίτηc is never used as an
adjective. The adjective derived from it is πορφυριτικόc (“in porphyry” or “relating to
Porphyrites”).
2. Toponyms from materials. A pearl fishery in the Red Sea
25 The Greek word πορφυρίτηc was created one day in July AD 18 from the base πορφύρα
(i.e. the purple dye which comes from two species of Murex) and the suffix -ίτηc often
used, from the Hellenistic period onwards, for the formation, among other things, of
masculine names of stones.30 Gaius Cominius Leugas, a prospector who roamed the
Eastern Desert in the reign of Tiberius, had just discovered this purple coloured rock, as
well as several others, and as a thanksgiving he dedicated a chapel on-site to Pan and
Sarapis (AE 1995, 1615).
26 When the massif began to be exploited, becoming a metallon, ὁ πορφυρίτηc was used as
a place name. One can observe at this time the same semantic shift in meaning, from
material to place name, in the dedication of a Paneion situated in another metallon, in
Wadi Umm Wikala (I.Pan 51 [AD 11]). This inscription, seven years prior to the
discovery of Porphyrites, offers a series of placenames drawn from materials which has
not been unanimously recognized as such: ἐπ{ε}ὶ Ποπλίου Ἰουεντίου Ῥούφου χιλιάρχου
τῆc τερτιανῆc λεγεῶν(οc) καὶ ἐπάρχου Βερνίκηc καὶ ἀρχιμεταλλάρχου τῆc ζμαράγδου
καὶ βαζίου καὶ μαργαρίτου καὶ πάντων τῶν μετάλλων τῆc Αἰγύπτου, ἀνέθηκε ἐν τῶι
Ὀφιάτηι ἱερὸν Πανὶ θεῶι μεγίcτωι (l. 2-12). Ὀφιάτηι presents itself clearly as the name
of the place and it is, as in the case of Porphyrites, a direct borrowing from the
extracted material. Indeed, ὀφιάτηc is a dialect form of the stone-name ὀφίτηc,31
mentioned by Pliny (Nat. 36.55): Pliny explains the difference between Augusteum and
Tibereum, discovered in Egypt under Augustus and Tiberius, and ophite, the source of
which he does not indicate, but it is likely the “Theban ophite” coloured with small
flecks, evoked by Lucan: parvis tinctus maculis Thebenus ophites (Pharsalia 9.714). The fact
that the words ζμαράγδου καὶ βαζίου καὶ μαργαρίτου are syntactically on the same level
as πάντων τῶν μετάλλων τῆc Αἰγύπτου shows that these nouns are used as toponyms;
so they should be provided with an uppercase:32 ἀρχιμεταλλάρχου τῆc Ζμαράγδου καὶ
Βαζίου καὶ Μαργαρίτου καὶ πάντων τῶν μετάλλων τῆc Αἰγύπτου, “chief director of the
74
Emerald, the Topaz, the Pearl and all the mineral resources in Egypt.” The same
enumeration appears seven years later, in another inscription made by the same
dedicant, Agathopous, freedman of the prefect Iuventius Rufus, engraved on a naos in
the stone quarries of bekhen in Wadi al-Hammamat (I.Ko.Ko. 41 [AD 18]).
27 While Smaragdos33 and Bazion (St John’s Island, where topaz was mined) 34 have been
identified, the location of Margarites is unknown. I agree with Dittenberger, who
believes it to be somewhere in the Red Sea where conditions are favourable to the
biology of pearl oysters.35 They are, in this region, Pinctada radiata and Pinctada
margaritifera. According to G. Ranson, Pinctada radiata thrives in the tropics and a little
beyond, in areas where freshwater inflows mitigate salinity.36 It would be plausible that
the Romans had imposed an institutional framework on a fishery traditionally
practised by a local population of Ichthyophagoi. Likewise, according to Strabo, in the
early years of the Principate, the Smaragdos was exploited by Beduins whom he calls
Ἄραβεc,37 as it will be again in Late Antiquity by the Blemmyes.38
28 If the pearls of the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf (especially those of Tylos, now
Bahrain)39 are mentioned by ancient authors (but after the conquests of Alexander), the
two dedications made by P. Iuventius Agathopous are the only ancient testimony to the
possible presence of a pearl fishery in the Red Sea. Neither Pliny nor the Periplus Maris
Erythraei say anything about it; and yet, the latter mentions the Persian Gulf fisheries,
though outside the route described.40 We cannot exclude the possibility that the
Margarites, operated by the State in the early years of the province, quickly found itself
competing with foreign pearls, so that it would not have been considered worth the
trouble to organise exploitation when Indian pearls and those from the Persian Gulf
were flooding the market. But this operation may simply have left no written record
other than the two early inscriptions of Agathopous, for shells of Pinctada radiata and
Pinctada margaritifera were found in the excavations at Myos Hormos and Berenike, and
the locals obviously liked to rework the shell.41 One would expect, however, in the case
of a fishery, large shell dumps42 –unless of course the fishermen threw them back into
the sea.43 Such dumps do exist in the lagoon of Berenike, but local constraints
(minefields) have not allowed archaeologists to go and look at the composition.44
29 The traditional interpretation of the name Margarites however has been challenged by
Pierre Schneider:45 μαργαρίτηc, in the inscriptions of Agathopous might not be a pearl,
but the gem called χερcαῖοc μάργαροc/μαργαρίτηc by Aelianus (De Natura Animalium
15.8.30) and by Origen (Commentarium in Evangelium Matthaei 10.7). These two sources
place the “land-pearl” in India, a concept notoriously vague and which may include any
region connected with Erythraean trade; Aelian curiously states that it has no inherent
nature, but is generated by the rock crystal (ἀπογέννημα εἶναι κρυcτάλλου, οὐ τοῦ ἐκ
τῶν παγετῶν cυνιcταμένου, ἀλλὰ τοῦ ὀρυκτοῦ). Schneider connects this passage to
Plin. Nat. 37.23: citing Juba, Pliny reports that crystallum is found –among other
sources– on the island in the Red Sea which also produces topaz, i.e. St John’s Island.
For Schneider, μαργαρίτηc would, thus, be the Greek name for rock crystal extracted,
according to Juba, from St. John’s Island and a nearby island called Necron (= Νεκρῶν).46
30 A final example of the name of the material used as a toponym (not to designate a
metallon, but a latomia) is found in an archive of ostraca from Porphyrites, dating to late
3rd-4th century. A number of these notes are orders to send bread to various microsites
of the metallon, among which “the Batrachites” (εἰc τὸν Βατραχείτην). W. Van Rengen47
recalls in this respect a passage of Pliny, according to which “Koptos also exports
75
batrachitai”; the naturalist distinguishes two types of these frog-coloured minerals.48 Is

there a confusion with the batrachites later attested in Porphyrites?
31 While materials (whose names pre-existed the Romans, as cμάραγδοc, βάζιον,
μαργαρίτηc, or were invented by them at the time of discovery, as βατραχίτηc, ὀφιάτηc,
πορφυρίτηc) became place-names, conversely names of materials are derived from
toponyms: the granite of Mons Claudianus was called marmor Claudianum,49 that of
Tiberiane marmor Tibereum (Plin. Nat. 36.55).
3. Metalla in the area of Umm Balad
32 The number of occurrences of toponyms on ostraca is more or less inversely

proportional to the distance between the named sites and the place of discovery. In
other words, the more occurrences, the closer the site. See Table 4, where all the
toponyms found on ostraca from Umm Balad appear, whatever the topographic
feature.
A. Δομιτιανή vs Καινὴ Λατομία50
33 The Umm Balad ostraca, excavated in 2002 and 2003, revealed several completely new
names referring to metalla, wells and praesidia. Unfortunately, we do not know which
sites they correspond to on the ground. There is even a slight uncertainty about the
name of the metallon of Umm Balad, since two names appear concurrently, Δομιτιανή
and Καινὴ Λατομία. The most likely scenario is that the metallon was opened under
Domitian between AD 89 and 9151 with the name Δομιτιανή, which would have been
substituted by Καινὴ Λατομία after the damnatio memoriae following the emperor’s
death (the specific Καινή almost certainly refers to the precedence of Porphyrites).
However, analysis of the stratigraphy of the midden made by J.-P. Brun does not fit
with this interpretation as neatly as hoped: the name Καινὴ Λατομία appears already in
SU 3, an early layer of the dump; Καινὴ Λατομία and Δομιτιανή are found concurrently
in SU 4. Δομιτιανή, the attestations of which are considerably fewer than those of
Καινὴ Λατομία, also appears in layers with Antonine material: residual material or
survival of the name? To solve the problem, J.-P. Brun explains that, on the one hand,
the c. eight years of works under Domitian must have left a very thin layer at the
bottom of the dump and that, on the other hand, the place name Δομιτιανή could have
continued to be used as well, at least locally, despite its official replacement by a bland
Καινὴ Λατομία.
B. Small metalla listed in the area of Umm Balad, orphan toponyms
34 Besides Porphyrites and Claudianus, which we have treated above, the O.KaLa. mention
two other metalla, Germanike Latomia and Alabarches. To identify their location we
have three possible candidates52 which are all equally viable:
(1) The area formed by the two quarries and the workers’ village53 located at the bottom
of the wadi, access to which was controlled by the praesidium of Umm Balad; the
distance between the fort and the extraction zone is, meandering along this wadi,
c. 1.20 km. Letters mentioning Alabarches suggest, without certainty, that it could be
this site; Alabarches would, therefore, be a microtoponym within the metallon of
Domitiane/Kaine Latomia.
76
(2) The quarries of blue porphyry at Umm Tuwat (27° 10’ 12” N / 33° 14’ 25” E).54 The
Romans extracted, in the first to second centuries, a blue-grey porphyry (trachyandesite
porphyry)55 which has stick-like inclusions reminding of the green porphyry from
Sparta (Fig. 2). Umm Tuwat is c. 6 km as the crow flies northwest of Umm Balad (there
is no direct route between the two sites, but we have not had time to check if there
were mule tracks). The site comprises no agglomeration;56 Bagnall and Harrell only
indicate three extraction points (Fig. 3) and two small buildings of 3.5 m2 and 5.5 m 2.
There are very few ceramics, but the wide and beautiful stone-free track that leads
there suggests that the Romans had ambitions for this site (Fig. 4). It has been
suggested that the blue porphyry of Umm Tuwat was the knekites, one of the materials
listed by Tiberius Cominius Leugas, the discoverer of Porphyrites.57 Umm Tuwat
porphyry was spotted in the palaces of the Palatine, but objects made of this material
are extremely rare; the main one is the right column at the entry of the chapel of St.
Zenon at St. Praxedes (fig 5).58 Κνηκίτηc is derived from κνῆκοc, “saffron,” Carthamus
tinctorius, which, used as a dye plant, produces yellow. Indeed, the porphyry of Umm
Tuwat has no yellow in it, but if one accepts the idea that the ancients perceived
colours more in terms of their light intensity than their hue, knekites could mean “pale
stone” and, of all the materials extracted in the Eastern Desert, only the porphyry of
Umm Tuwat could, according to the authors of this hypothesis, fit that description.
Fig. 2
A porphyry plate from Umm Tuwat polished on one side, found in the
midden at Umm Balad.
Fig. 3
77
A latomia at Umm Tuwat.

© Adam Bülow-Jacobsen
Fig. 4
The track towards Umm Tuwat.

Fig. 5
78
Porphyry column from Umm Tuwat in Zenon’s chapel at St. Praxedes.

(3) The diorite quarry of Umm Shejilat59 which is c. 18 km, almost in a straight line,
south of the praesidium of Qattar, was quarried during the first/second century AD.60 We
did not go there, but the satellite image shows access to it from Qattar. The built-up
area is not shaped like a praesidium. Mons Claudianus is not far away, but the
mountainous terrain prevents direct communications between the two sites. Umm
Shejilat had to be in the orbit of Porphyrites and perhaps more precisely of Umm Balad.
However, caravans carrying provisions must have come from Kaine and left the hodos
Porphyritou at the small station of Bab al-Mukhaniq, from where Meredith’s map shows
a road leading to the gold mine of Wadi Ghazza and to an anonymous granite quarry
which corresponds, according to its location, to Umm Shejilat (Fig. 6).
Fig. 6
79
Map of the Tabula imperii romani, Sheet Coptos published by Meredith

1958.
35 To name these three sites, two toponyms, as we have seen, are available:
36 Γερμανικὴ Λατομία
The name of this metallon appears only in O.KaLa. inv. 765, a receipt issued by a
sklerourgos to a camel driver for a delivery ἐν Γερμανικῆ ͅ Λατομία ͅ (the delivered
object is a load and a half of monthly rations for quarry workers).61 The document is
dated 2nd Phaophi of Domitian’s 16 th regnal year, or 29th September AD 96 (the news of
the Emperor’s death, which had occurred on September 18th, had not reached the site
yet). Γερμανική refers to the cognomen ex virtute Germanicus, to which Domitian was
very attached, and shows that the metallon had been opened under this emperor, in the
same way as Δομιτιανή. The Germanike Quarry should not be very far from Umm Balad,
as the camel driver, who had probably loaded his animals at Umm Balad, had brought
back the receipt as proof. This could be Umm Tuwat. The fact that two pieces of
porphyry from Umm Tuwat were found in the midden at Umm Balad (one was polished,
Fig. 2) shows that in any case the two metalla worked at the same time, that is to say
under Domitian and/or Trajan. Isolated and poorly equipped, Umm Tuwat probably
depended for its supplies on Umm Balad.
37 Ἀλαβάρχηc/Ἀραβάρχηc
This name is attested in seven ostraca from Umm Balad, six private letters, which are
rather uninformative and an amphoric titulus published below (Fig. 7). Only the latter
suggests that Alabarches / Arabarches62 must have been a metallon. The amphora
belonged to the architect Sokrates. Does the place-name refer to an arabarches63 or an
individual called Arabarches, since this title was used –especially in Thebes and
Elephantine– as a personal name?64 Since the question of customs duties is probably
irrelevant in this part of the Eastern Desert, I am inclined to favour the second
80
hypothesis, and to relate Arabarches to the anthropophoric names of some latomiai at

Mons Claudianus. The choice of a personal name may reflect the fact that Arabarches
was a small metallon. For A. Bülow-Jacobsen, it could be the workers’ village at the foot
of the quarries of Umm Balad (see § 34 [1]).
O.KaLa. inv. 269 (Fig. 7) Domitien/Trajan
Umm Balad, phase A – US 2 (3208) 10.5 x 3.5 cm Nile silt clay
Titulus on amphora AE3.
Ϲω]κ ρ̣ άτ( ) ἀρχιτέκ ̣{κ}(τ-) Ἀραβάρχ(ου?)
] ̣ ̣[
38 Sokrates, architect at Arabarches.
1. The absence of a preposition dictates the restoration of the genitive. This is the
only case in the ostraca from the metalla, where the trade-name ἀρχιτέκτων is
determined by a place name.
Fig. 7
O.KaLa. inv. 269.

© A. Bülow-Jacobsen
39 Ἀλαβάρχηc is most often used without an article,65 but the paucity of occurrences does
not allow us to make it a general rule: in the epistolary ostraca from Umm Balad,
Πορφυρίτηc preceded by a preposition is used interchangeably with and without the
article. But πορφυρίτηc originally is a common noun and, therefore, more likely to take
the article, while Ἀλαβάρχηc, as we have seen, may be an anthroponym.
IV. Latomiai: quarry names of Mons Claudianus

40 If the ostraca of Porphyrites have only revealed the name of a single quarry,
Βατραχίτηc,66 the Claudianus corpus has yielded a rich harvest of these microtoponyms.
I have taken almost all of them from O.Claud. IV. The infrared photos that A. Bülow-
Jacobsen took after publication of the book allowed me to make some corrections. In
the inventory below, I only quote the instances that allow us to observe the
morphological and syntactic behaviour of these names.
81
41 Of the 130 quarries reported by David Peacock, only seven, the names of which are
known from the ostraca, were identified through inscriptions found on the spot:
Epikomos, Harpocrates, Hieronymus?, Kochlax, Myrismos, Nikotychai, Philok( ). I
indicate, in this case, the number given by David Peacock.67
1. Inventory
42 Ἄμμων? (Antoninus?)
λατομ(ία) Ἄμμ ̣[ωνοc]: Ο.Claud. IV 719, 6 (much restored).
43 Ἄνουβιc (Trajan)
This quarry is mentioned once in the opening words of a list of experts in the form
Ἀνούβι ( Ο.Claud. IV 632, 1). Although both lines of this incipit pose insuperable
difficulties in reading and interpretation, I think that this is the dative Ἀνούβι, well-
attested in the inscriptions (there are many examples outside Egypt, especially in Delos;
in Egypt: I.Alex.impér. 124).
44 Ἄπιc (Trajan)
Mentioned in the dative Ἄπιδι with other names of quarries and of other features that
are allocated water rations in the large organisational chart O.Claud. inv. 1538, 2 and 6
(Cuvigny 2005).
45 Ἀπόλλων (Trajan)
Six certain occurences. Probably a different quarry to Apollon Epikomos, only called
Epikomos in the ostraca.
– Ἀ]π ό ̣ λλωνοc: O.Claud. inv. 2853, 5.68 In this catalogue of water distribution, quarry
names are in the nominative when they are adjectives, and in the genitive when they
are theonyms or anthroponyms.
– λατομία ͅ Ἀπόλλωνο(c): Ο.Claud. IV 634, 2.
– Ἀπόλλωνι: Ο.Claud. IV 741, 1.
– εἰc λατομίαν Ἀπόλλων[οc]: Ο.Claud. IV 786, 3.
– εἰc τὴν λατομίαν τοῦ Ἀ[πόλ]λωνοc: Ο.Claud. IV 819, 4-5.
– ἰc λατομίαν Ἀπόλ(λωνοc): Ο.Claud. IV 867, 5.
– [εἰc Ἀπόλ?]λ ω ̣ νοc λατομίαν: Ο.Claud. IV 816, 1 (Fig. 8). But the lambda is strange.
Rather Νειλαν]μωνοc?
Fig. 8
O.Claud. IV 816, 1 (detail).

46 In O.Claud. IV 866, 4, the infrared image shows that Ἀπολλωνου was corrected by the
scribe into Ἀπόλλωνοc, a sigma having been written in the line space above the upsilon
82
(Fig. 9). Given the context, it seems certain that this is a city, not a quarry, and that we
can reconstruct this with confidence as ἀπῆλθεν εἰc Ἀπόλλωνο⟦υ⟧\c/|[πόλι]ν .̣
Fig. 9

47 Ἁρποκράτηc (Trajan and Antoninus)

The Harpocrates quarry is marked with a Latin inscription, where its name is preceded
by the mark CEP, suggesting it was part of the caesura of Epaphroditos69 (= Peacock
No. 109; cf. Peacock, Maxfield 1992 p. 188 and 220). This latomia is attested in three
ostraca only:
– [λατ]όμου Ἁρποχράτο ̣[υ]: Ο.Claud. IV 635, 1 (Trajan);
– Arpochrate: Ο.Claud. IV 843, 6 (Trajan?);
– λατ(ομία ͅ) Ἁρπ ο̣ ̣(κράτου): Ο.Claud. IV 841, 6 and 23 (c. 150).
48 Αὐγούcτη (Trajan)
Αὐγο(ύcτῃ): Ο.Claud. IV 775, 8 and 776, 11.
49 Ἀφροδίτη (Trajan)
λατομί[α ͅ] Ἀφροδε ̣[ίτηc]: Ο.Claud. IV 637, 1-2.
50 Βάρβαροc (end of the reign of Hadrian)
λατομ(ία ͅ) Βαρβάρου: Ο.Claud. IV 730, 1.
51 Διόνυcοc (Trajan and Antoninus)
A dozen instances, including:
– Διονύcῳ: Ο.Claud. IV 699, 15.
– Διονύcου πλάκεc: Ο.Claud. IV 844, 3.
– δὸc εἰc τὸν Διόνυcον: Ο.Claud. IV 808.
52 The theonym is preceded by the generic in two Antonine texts: λατο(μία ͅ) Διον(ύcου)
(O.Claud. IV 841, 13, where we learn that this quarry is part of the caesura of
Epaphroditos) and ex lat(omia) Dionysu (Ο.Claud. IV 845, 2).
53 Διόcκοροc
This quarry is mentioned only in O.Claud. IV 748, 1, but there is, in my view, no reason
to consider this anthroponym as a toponym.
54 Ἐπίκωμοc (Trajan)
Five examples, the generic being always implicit, e.g. Ἐπικώμῳ (Ο.Claud. IV 776, 3) and
possibly δὸc εἰc τὸν Ἐπ[ίκωμον] in O.Claud. IV 817, 1 (Ἐπί κ ̣ ̣[ωμον] ed., a
misreading due to a misplaced chip). Epikomos should probably be identified with
quarry No. 7,70 where one can read the inscription Ἀπόλ(λων) Ἐπίκωμοc71 (“Apollo
presiding over the festivities”).
55 Ἐπιφανήc? (c. AD 150)
Only attested in Ο.Claud. IV 841, 8, wherein the restitution λατ(ομίᾳ) Ἐπιφαν ̣[ή]ϲ ̣ is
83
possible, but not certain. For the nominative after λατ(ομίᾳ) see s.n. Εὔπλοια. This
name would be in the category of divine epicleses.
56 Εὔπλοια (c. AD 150)
I read λατο(μία ͅ) Εὐπλοία ͅ [ in Ο.Claud. IV 841, 11 (Fig. 10, Ευπτικ ̣[ ̣] ed.). We cannot
exclude Εὐπλοία[c], but it should be noted that the text presents two certain examples
of λατομία ͅ followed by a specific in the nominative: λατ(ομία ͅ) Φιλοcέραπιc and
λατ(ομία ͅ) Κόχλαξ. The quarry-name “Good navigation” is not irrelevant, since the
monoliths extracted came down the Nile and across the Mediterranean.
Fig. 10

57 Εὐτύχηc (Trajan)
Eight occurences, all in the dative and without the generic. This is the anthroponym
Εὐτύχηc, gen. -ου, not the adjective εὐτυχήc.
58 Ζεύc (Trajan)
One example: λατομίᾳ Διόc (Ο.Claud. IV 638, 1).
59 Ἥρα (Trajan)
The quarry of Hera appears in several listings of quarries in the dative (Ἥρᾳ) and in
the genitive Ἥραc (depending on an implied λατομία) which serves as a header in the
list of experts in O.Claud. IV 640. Also note the expression ἐκ τῆc Ἥραc (O.Claud. IV 743,
4). This quarry is mentioned in the chart inv. 1538, along with another work-site called
Κρηπ(ὶc) Ἥραc, perhaps the platform to allow the loading of the blocks extracted from
the Hera quarry onto chariots (on krepides, see § 104).
60 Ἱερώνυμοc (Trajan)
This name from a family of architects appears twice in a quarry name, as the modifier
of a generic which is not λατομία, as read in the edition, but Λουτήρ, also known by
itself as a quarry name.
– Ο.Claud. IV 710, 3 (Fig. 11): λα τ̣ ο̣ μ
̣ (ίᾳ) Ἱερων(ύμου) ed. → Λουτ(ῆρι)
Ἱερων(ύμου).
– Ο.Claud. IV 779, 2 (Fig. 12): λ α ̣ ̣{υ}τ(ομίᾳ) Ἱερων(ύμου) ed. → Λουτ(ῆρι)
Ἱερωνύμ(ου).
Fig. 11
84
Ο.Claud. IV 710, 3 (detail).

Fig. 12

61 To these two instances, one should add the Latin account Ο.Claud. IV 843, where the
quarry is simply called Hieronymi. It is impossible to establish with certainty whether
Λουτήρ, Ἱερώνυμοc and Λουτήρ Ἱερωνύμου are three names for one quarry; at least
Λουτήρ (§ 67) could be an abbreviation for Λουτήρ Ἱερωνύμου.
62 Hieronymos may be identified with quarry No. 83, north of the cemetery: on one side
the letters ιερω are engraved (Peacock, Maxfield 1997, p. 187 et Fig. 6.57 = SEG XLII
1575). This case of an architect eponymous of a quarry is unique. The name of the
architect Herakleides appears on a quarry face in quarry No. 129, but preceded by διά.72
63 Καινὴ Λατομία (Trajan)
The namesake of the metallon at Umm Balad, it is attested among other latomiai names
in four related lists of quarry names (O.Claud IV 700 and comm ad. 2; 702; 704; 777).
64 Κάνωποc (Trajan)
Five examples, including:
– λατομ(ία) Κανόπο υ ̣ ̣ (Ο.Claud. IV 641)
– Κανώπου in Ο.Claud. IV 704 and 779, quarry lists, the names of which are in the dative.
In these lists, anthropophoric quarry names are usually in the dative even if they are
known elsewhere as λατομία + anthroponym in the genitive. However, I think we can
read Κανώπω ͅ (Fig. 13) in the list Ο.Claud. IV 783, 1 (Κανώπ<ο>υ [ ed.).
Fig. 13
85

65 Κόχλαξ (Antoninus)
Ο.Claud. IV 841, 63; 64: λατ(ομία ͅ) Κόχλαξ; Ο.Claud. IV 842, 5; 6: •Κόχλ[αξ; Ο.Claud. IV
843, 3 (Trajan?): Cochlax. Κόχλαξ never inflects; this rare and onomatopoeic word
means “gravel.” The Kochlax quarry, identified by an inscription with this name, is No.
120 in the inventory of D. Peacock.
66 Λέων (Trajan and c. AD 150)
The quarry is simply called Λέοντι in several lists of quarry names in the dative, but
λ α̣ τ̣ ̣(ομία ͅ) Λέοντοc in Ο.Claud. 841 IV, 40, which is a later text.
67 Λουτήρ (Trajan)
Five ostraca mention this quarry, which seems to take its name from the object, bath or
basin, that was being (had been?) extracted.
68 The place name appears in the dative Λουτῆρι and in Ο.Claud. IV 814, preceded by the
article (δὸc εἰc τὸν Λουτῆρα). It is probably the same quarry as that referred to as
Λουτὴρ Ἱερωνύμου (§ 60-61), for, in the quarry lists O.Claud. IV 770 and 774, Λουτῆρι
immediately precedes Μέcῃ, while in two lists pertaining to another series, Ο.Claud. IV
710 and 779, Μέcῃ immediately precedes Λουτῆρι Ἱερωνύμου.
69 Μάρων (Trajan and c. AD 150)
As for the Leon quarry, the anthroponym refers to the quarry itself and not, as it seems,
to a person with a relationship to it: many occurrences of Μάρωνι appear in lists of
quarry names in the dative, but this feature was forgotten in the time of Ο.Claud. IV 841,
41, where one has λ α ̣ τ(ομίᾳ) Μάρωνοc distinct undoubtedly from λατ(ομία)
Μάρωνοc μακρά on the same ostracon (l. 31).
70 Μάρωνοc μακρά (c. AD 150)
The “long quarry of Maron” is only attested in Ο.Claud. IV 841, 31. The edition gives the
impression that it belonged to the caesura of Epaphroditos, which appears as a header
to a text block on line 30. This is curious, given that Maron’s quarry is in the caesura of
Enkolpios according to Ο.Claud. IV 841, 41. However, the infrared image shows that
κοπ(ῆ ͅ) Ἐπαφροδ(ίτου) on line 30 is intentionally deleted73 (Fig. 14).
Fig. 14
86
Ο.Claud. IV 841, 30-33.

71 Μεγάλη λατομία (Trajan and c. AD 150)

Just as with Καινή, but not Μέcη, the generic element λατομία is always expressed
when qualified by Μεγάλη (see Ο.Claud. IV 782, 2-3). Two occurrences under Trajan,
then in O.Claud. 841 IV, 65.
72 Μέcη (Trajan and c. AD 150)
Except once, in the opening words of a staff list, Ο.Claud. IV 644 (Μέcη ͅ{c} λατομίᾳ),
the “Middle” quarry, frequently mentioned, is referred to simply as Μέcη, unlike Καινή
or Μεγάλη which are always followed by the generic (e.g. Ο.Claud. IV 812: δὸc εἰc τὴν
Μέcην cφυρίδαc δέκα).
73 The later account Ο.Claud. IV 841, 54 suggests that this important quarry could have
been placed under the protection of Isis: λατ(ομίᾳ) Μέcῃ Εἴcειδι. It is abnormal that
the theonym after λατομία is not in the genitive.
74 Μίθραc (Trajan)
Attested only in the incipit of a headcount written in charcoal, Ο.Claud. IV 646:
λατομία ͅ Μίθρα. Other examples of λατομία + name of god in the genitive suggest the
interpretation of Μίθρα as a genitive, not as a dative in apposition.
75 Μυριcμόc (Trajan [and Antoninus Pius?])
The four certain examples of the Myrismos quarry (Peacock No. 22) date to Trajan. The
quarry could have functioned under Antoninus Pius if we accept the reading ex lat(omia)
Ṃuṛ[ in the Latin account Ο.Claud. IV 845. The name of this quarry appears in three
ostraca abbreviated as Μυριcμ( ). It is preceded by the generic in the inscription that we
found in the rubble of the quarry, after its destruction by the Zamzam Company in 1989
(Fig. 15). Jean Bingen published the Greek text of the inscription and translated it “The
(column) No. 3 of the Myrismos quarry. The one who loves Trajan.”74 The epithet
Φιλοτραιανόc, because it is in the nominative, cannot be a second name of the λατομία,
hence Bingen’s idea of linking it to an implied cτῦλοc (column). Bingen considers that
Myrismos, the eponym of the quarry, is “perhaps an imperial slave or a Greek
contractor.”
Fig. 15
87
Column base inscribed on the underside, from the quarry of Myrismos.

76 Νειλάμμων (Trajan or Hadrian)

This quarry is mentioned in only five headcounts written by the same scribe, who
invariably expresses the generic and dissimilates the first μ to ν: λατομίᾳ
Ν(ε)ιλάνμωνοc ( O.Claud. IV 734-738). This spelling can be explained as a fault of
hypercorrection and, perhaps, through the novelty of this polytheophoric personal
name, which does not spread in the papyri before the end of the second century AD
(the oldest example, P.Oxy. III 477, is dated to AD 132/133). We should not completely
rule out the existence of a Neilammon god, perhaps attested in the temple inventory
P.Erl. 21, 32 (prov. Unknown, c. AD 195): N]ειλάμμων ̣ θεοῦ μ ̣( ), that one might
consider turning into N]ειλάμμων ̣(οc) θεοῦ μ ̣(εγίcτου).
77 Νερωνιανή (Trajan)
Two instances, λατομία always being implied (Ο.Claud. IV 776, 16; 777, 2). There is also
the beginning of this toponym, but erased, in Ο.Claud. IV 841, 41, of c. AD 150.
78 Νικοτύχαι75 (Trajan)
The name of this quarry is inscribed scriptio plena on a granite bed that was cleared of
overburden, but which was not worked (Fig. 16, 17). We probably recognize it in two
ostraca: λατ]ομ(ίᾳ) Νικο τ̣ ̣(υχῶν) (Ο.Claud. IV 651, 1) and Νικ]οτυχ( ) (Ο.Claud. IV 747,
6, Μάρ]ονα ed., see Fig. 18). The polytheophoric name Νικοτύχη otherwise unknown in
Egypt, is attested as an anthroponym (with a masculine counterpart Νικότυχοc).
Fig. 16
88
Nikotychai quarry, remained untapped.

Fig. 17
The signpost of Nikotychai quarry, with the name of the foreman.

Fig. 18
O.Claud. IV 747 6: [Νικ]οτυχ( ) ἀκιϲκ(λάριοι) β.
89
Πλωτίνα (Hadrian?)
79 This name appears only in Ο.Claud. IV 739, a note assigning 16 men “to Plotina’s
column,” cτύλῳ Πλωτίνα[c?] (Fig. 19). Does that mean they were sent to work
specifically on a column in a quarry called Plotina or was this quarry, as for Λουτήρ,
named after the object that was extracted, as would happen with a column which
would itself have a name, like the column Φιλοτραιανόc in Myrismos quarry? The
parallel offered by Ο.Claud. IV 657, 1-2 (§ 95, s.n. Χρηcμοcάραπιc) suggests that we
should rather consider Plotina as the name of the quarry.
Fig. 19
Ο.Claud. IV 739, 1.
80 Πορφυρίτηc (Trajan)
This name appears in two lists among quarry names (O.Claud. IV 705 and 706) and in a
delivery order belonging to a series of notes about sending quarry equipment (O.Claud. I
17, cf. O.Claud. IV, p 135). It must, therefore, probably refer to a λατομία which is the
namesake of the metallon. The restitution of this quarry name in the Antonine ostraca
O.Claud. IV 841, 49 and 842, 4 is very hazardous.
81 Ῥώμη (Trajan)
It more likely refers to the goddess Roma than to the city. Ῥώμη is never accompanied
by the generic λατομία. Sometimes, it is preceded by the article after a preposition ἐν
τῇ Ῥώ[μῃ] (Ο.Claud. IV 652), δὸc εἰc τὴν Ῥώμην (Ο.Claud. IV 804; 813). In Ο.Claud. IV 742,
1, one should probably read, after ἰc Ῥώμην, οὐί γ̣ λ ̣ η ̣ c̣ (Ουι c̣ μ ̣ ο̣ ϲ ̣ ̣ ed.):
see Fig. 20.
Fig. 20
82 Cελήνη (c. AD 150)

This quarry only appears in two ostraca where its name had been misread:
– ⟦λατ(ομίᾳ) Cελήνη c̣ ⟧̣ (Cερ η ̣ νου ed.): O.Claud. IV 841, 51 (Fig. 21).
– Cελήν[η(c?) (Cελην[ου ed.): O.Claud. IV 842, 2.
Fig. 21
90

83 Cέραπιc? (c. AD 150)

λατ(ομία ͅ ) Cερα[, Ο.Claud. IV 841, 24: single and uncertain example.
84 Cώ ζͅ ουcα (Trajan)
Evidenced only in a Latin fragment (ex latomia Sozusa, O.Claud. IV 846, 3). This epiclesis is
not common in Egypt: we only know a cult of Isis Sozousa at Ekregma in northern Sinai
(P.Oxy. XI 1380, 76), and an Arsinoe Sozousa Street in Alexandria.
85 Τραιανή (Trajan)
Common, this name is always used alone except in O.Claud. IV 653 1-2 (λατομίαc
Τραϊανῆc).
86 Φιλάμμων (Trajan)
Philammon appears, every time more or less abbreviated and without the generic, in
three lists of quarry names in the dative (Ο.Claud. IV 775, 10; 776, 7; 777, 3).
87 W. Swinnen has demonstrated that Philammon was an old Greek anthroponym,
probably a hypocoristic of φιλάμενοc.76 Widespread in Cyrenaica because of an
homophony with the Libyan names in -αμ(μ)ων and with the name of the local god
Ammon, it is also well attested first in Ptolemaic, then in Roman Egypt, where it
benefitted from the second century CE fashion for anthroponyms ending in -άμμων.
Swinnen thinks that the popular etymology associating Φιλάμμων with the theonym
Ἄμμων is late, since genealogies of the type Philammon son of Ammonios do not occur
before the end of the first century BC (BGU IV 1163 3 [16-13 BC]; SEG XXVI 1839, col B, 13
[first century BC-beginning of the first century CE]); secondly, Fr. Dunand, as Swinnen
reminds us, has established that there are no theophoric names in -άμμων in the
Ptolemaic era.
88 How did popular etymology understand the name Philammon? We know that in Greek
compounds, the element φιλο- has an active sense (“who loves”) when in first position,
but passive (“beloved”) in second; however, this rule does not apply strictly to
anthroponyms (Schwyzer 1939 I p. 635: Agelaos, “leading the people,” has the same
meaning as Laagos). This latter consideration allows us to avoid the aporia of a pagan
name meaning “who loves Ammon,” the concept of loving a god being deemed foreign
to pagan thought: so, Philotheos, so widespread in the Christian period where it means
“loving God” would be in pagan times (where it is also rare), the equivalent of
Theophilos (“beloved by the God”). But how should the name Φιλάμμων be understood
when bestowed on a quarry in the time of Trajan? The meaning “Beloved of Ammon”
would be satisfactory for a quarry, presented as being under the protection of the god,
but the absence of the equivalent *Ἀμμωνόφιλοc makes this hypothesis weak.
89 We can compare Φιλάμμων to another similar quarry name, Φιλοcάραπιc, which has a
clear etymology. It was originally a title that falls into the category of loyalist epithets
from the imperial era as in φιλο- + name of a distinguished person (e.g. φιλόκαιcαρ). In
this case, there is no doubt that φιλο- has an active sense. But is it the same when the
91
second element is a theonym? M. Malaise, rallying to the position of Swinnen considers

that Φιλοcάραπιc means: “Who is beloved by Serapis.” 77 But would the element φιλο-
have two different meanings when, in AD 193, the archiereus Ulpius Serenianus tacked
onto his name the epithets φιλοκόμμοδοc καὶ φιλοcάραπιc?78 I do not think so.
Similarly, in Ephesus Vibius Salutaris, an official of equestrian rank who had been
generous with the temple of Artemis, is honoured with the title philartemis which is
added to that of philocaesar.79 In an inscription from Didyma, the philodionysoi who
question the oracle are an association of “Friends of Dionysus.”80 Conversely, would
these compounds φιλο- + theonym have taken a passive sense when employed as
anthroponyms, which seems to have been attested (except for Φιλοcάραπιc) only in
Egypt (where we also encounter the rare Φιλαπόλλων, Φιλέρμηc, Φιλοδιόcκοροc and
more frequently Φιλαντίνοοc)? Swinnen considers Φιλαπόλλων and Φιλέρμηc to be
Hellenized counterparts of Μαίευριc and Μαιθωυτ / Μαιθώτηc, which he interprets as
transposing mry + divine name, so “Beloved of Horus / Thoth.” But this etymology,
proposed by Vergote, is not authoritative; it has not been retained in the Demotisches
Namenbuch, which assigns another etymology to these names (mȝʿ-, “Truthful Horus/
Thoth”).81 The names Φιλαπόλλων, Φιλέρμηc, Φιλοδιόcκοροc, etc., therefore, rather
express devotion to a pagan god, and became popular because of the fashion of the
imperial period for loyalist epithets.
90 Although semantically it seems more satisfactory to think that the quarry names
Philammon and Philosarapis meant “Beloved of Amon, of Serapis,” who consequently,
watched over the success of the work, I think that these names meant “devotee of”
these gods. They are paralleled by the quarry name Philoc(aesar?) and the column
Philotraianos (cf. s.n. Μυριcμόc, § 75).
91 Philoc( )
The name of this quarry (Peacock Nos. 11-13) is known only by a dipinto written in red
ink under the base of the giant column which remains in place at the head of the Pillar-
Wadi. It is so faded that we had never been able to read it, until 14th January 2017, when
a visit to Mons Claudianus gave us the opportunity to take a digital photo that was then
treated with the software DStretch (Fig. 22). The dipinto is formulated on the same
model as the inscription at the Harpocrates quarry, which also belongs to the caesura of
Epaphroditos.
[c(aesura)]? Ep(aphroditi)
[e]x lat(omia)
[P]ḥiloc( )
Fig. 22
92
Dipinto under the base of the giant column. The bad light forced us to
cobble together a makeshift umbrella.
92 The reconstruction of c(aesura) is derived from the offset position of Ep(aphroditi). No

ostracon gives us a clue for completing the quarry name: was it a loyalist epithet
(Philocaesar rather than Philocommodus, since no major works at Mons Claudianus can be
placed under Commodus)? Or just a personal name?
93 Φιλοcάραπιc (Trajan and c. AD 150)
Φιλοcάραπιc (16 occurrences of this quarry) is never used with λατομία except in
Ο.Claud. IV 841, 47 (c. AD 150), a block count where the scribe systematically uses the
generic, and which reads λατ( ) Φιλοcά ρ̣ απιc. Philosarapis, which is originally a kind
of honorific title (cf. § 88-89), is attested as a personal name from the end of the second
century AD, hence after the Trajanic occurrences of our toponym. If Philosarapis
referred to a person, the scribe would have written λατ( ) Φιλοcε ρ̣ άπιδοc, as he writes
elsewhere λατ( ) Μάρωνοc. Nevertheless, λατ(ομίᾳ) should be restored, in this count,
in the dative, judging by λατ(ομίᾳ) τῇ αὐτ ̣[ῇ] and λατ(ομίᾳ) Μέcῃ Εἴcιδι in lines 20
and 54. If Φιλοcά ρ̣ απιc is the title of the quarry, one should have Φιλοcαράπιδι (but
see λατ(ομίᾳ) Κόχλαξ lines 63 and 64). I find it, however, difficult to explain the
masculine article, instead of the feminine in Ο.Claud. IV 810, 1: δὸc εἰc τὸν
Φιλοcά ρ̣ απ(ιν). For Φιλοcάραπιc should be feminine as well as masculine, as
φιλόπατριc. In fact, it behaves as if it were a theonym.
94 There was probably another quarry with the same name when work resumed at the end
of the second century CE. In a letter to the procurator metallorum, the quarry workers
report that, not knowing the official name of the quarry in which they work, they have
on their own initiative called it “Philoserapis” (Ο.Claud. IV 853, 19 [c. AD 186/187]).
95 Χρηcμοcάραπιc (Trajan)
– cτύλῳ Χρη\ϲ/μοϲεράπιδοc: Ο.Claud. IV 657, 1-2.
– λατομ ̣[ία ͅ] Χρη\ϲ/ϲ ̣(μο?)ϲαρα[πιδ-]: Ο.Claud. IV 658, 1 (λατο(μίᾳ)
Χρη c̣ μ ̣(ο)cαρ( ) ed.). The infrared photo reveals, under the quarry name, an erased
line which I cannot read, and does not help to understand the tangled traces that we
would like to read as - μο - (fig . 23).
93
– δὸc εἰc τὸν Χ ρ̣ ε c̣ μ

̣ ο̣ c̣ ά̣ ρ̣ ̣(απιν): Ο.Claud. IV 811, 1.
– Χρηcμοcαρ(άπιδι): chart for the distribution of water O. Claud. inv. 1538, 1 and 4
(Cuvigny 2005).
Fig. 23

96 Loewe 1936 does not cite any compound theophoric toponym,82 but we can compare
Χρηcμοcάραπιc to another quarry name likewise made from two nouns, both of which,
however, are proprial: Νικοτύχαι. The order of the elements implies that χρηcμο- is the
modifier, so that this quarry name should be understood as “Serapis of the oracle/
oracles.” Is this neologism a quick way of expressing the concept of Cάραπιc
χρηcμοδότηc? Is it an “anecdotal”83 toponym, reminiscent of a prophetic dream sent by
Serapis to some foreman?
2. Conclusion on the toponomy of quarries
Table 3
dynastic theophoric anthropophoric descriptive
Ἄμμων?
Βάρβαροc
Ἄνουβιc
Εὐτύχηc
Ἄπιc Καινὴ λατομία
Ἱερώνυμοc
Ἀπόλλων Κόχλαξ
Κάνωποc
Αὐγο(ύcτη) Ἁρποκράτηc Λουτήρ
Λέων
Νερωνιανή Ἀφροδίτη Λουτ(ὴρ?) Ἱερωνύμου
Μάρων
Πλωτίνα Διόνυcοc Μεγάλη λατομία
Μυριcμόc
Τραιανή Ἐπίκωμοc Μέcη
Νειλάμμων
Philoc(aesar)? Ἐπιφανήc? Μέcη Ἴcιc
Philoc( )?
Εὔπλοια Μάρωνοc Mακρά
epithets of devotion (?):
Ζεύc Πορφυρίτηc
Φιλάμμων
Ἥρα
Φιλοcάραπιc (2 quarries)
Ἴcιc (Μέcη Ἴcιc)
94
Μίθραc
Νικοτύχαι
Ῥώμη
Cελήνη
Cέραπιc?
Cῴζουcα
Χρηcμοcάραπιc
Taxonomy of the quarry names in Mons Claudianus.
97 Most often theophoric, the names of latomiai draw on the same sources as boat names,
usually theophoric and allegorical, as highlighted by P. Heilporn in his comment to
P.Bingen 77, p. 343 sq. (2nd c. CE). Three merchant ships in this papyrus have the same
names as some of our quarries: Zeus, Aphrodite, Selene. See also the ship called
Ἀντίνοοc Φιλοcάραπιc Cώ ζͅ ων in SB XIV 11850 (AD 149). The intention was to put the
stone work under the protection of a god whose goodwill was sollicited by calling the
quarry “devotee of (such-and-such god).” The extraction of monoliths was at the mercy
of unexpected weaknesses of the material, undetectable until it was too late, as
evidenced by the basins and broken or split columns that were abandoned on site. In
the letters in which they announce to the procurator metallorum the good news (ἱλαρὰ
φάcιc) of the completion of an order, the quarry workers are quick to attribute their
success to Serapis, assisted by the Tyche of Claudianus and the baraka (which they also
call Tyche) of the procurator.84
98 The generic λατομία is only expressed when the specific is an appellative adjective;
Λατομία then follows it: Μεγάλη Λατομία, Καινὴ Λατομία. Unlike the element πόλιc
always implied in the city name Καινή,85 λατομία is never omitted in these two quarry
names. Μέcη is an exception: there is only one known example of Μέcη Λατομία, and
this quarry is otherwise mentioned only as Μέcη.
99 While Loewe 1936 notes no specific element of theophoric toponyms that is a
compound (it is always a pure theonym or a derivative), we see several compounds
among the theophoric quarry names: besides the common Philammon or Philosarapis,
also known as anthroponyms, we note the polytheophoric Νειλάμμων and Νικοτύχαι –
the latter being new in Egyptian documents– and the hapax Χρηcμοcάραπιc. We
cannot, however, totally exclude the possibility that Philammon, Philosarapis and
Nilammon are anthroponyms referring, as do Leon, Hieronymos or Myrismos, to real
people, supervisors with whatever status on the working site.
100 Whether drawn from a god or a human, quarry names follow the same syntactic
pattern. The theonym or anthroponym is in the genitive preceded by λατομία (e.g.
λατομία Ἀπόλλωνοc), but, when it happens to be used alone, instead of staying in the
genitive (as in the case of another microtoponym at Mons Claudianus, the well of
Cattius, designated as ὕδρευμα Καττίου or simply Καττίου or τὸ Καττίου), it takes the
case that would be that of λατομία: this is no longer the name of a god or individual, but
that of the quarry. Thus Λέων, Μάρων, Διόνυcοc, Ἀπόλλων, Ἄνουβιc are quarries.
They are found in the dative, mixed with common nouns designating places, such as
cτομωτηρίῳ in the distribution lists of O.Claud. IV 769-787; in the series of delivery
orders 804-819, those names, despite the general trend in Greek towards the omission
95
of the article after a preposition,86 are systematically preceded by the article (e.g. δὸc
εἰc τὸν Διόνυcον), either because the sequence εἰc (locative) + anthroponym/theonym
would have sounded strange or because it is customary, according to Mayser, for the
Lokalnamen.87
101 It is rare that, used after λατομία, the theonym / anthroponym, instead of being a
complement to the name in the genitive, is in apposition: the only clear example is in
Latin latomia Sozusa, the two Greek examples being ambiguous (Εὔπλοια, Μίθρα).
102 In general, it is unclear who the eponymous persons of the quarries were. In the case of
the Latin account in O.Claud. IV 843, where Hieronymi is an entry along the same lines as
Cochlax, we can say that the quarry took the name of the architect Hieronymos. But is
the quarry “of Hierônymos” the same as the one called Λουτήρ –if indeed Λουτήρ is the
short form of Λουτ(ὴρ) Ἱερωνύμου? Other anthroponyms used as quarry names do not
overlap the prosopography of the managerial staff. It is possible that these Maron,
Myrismos, Leon, were ergodotai (foremen) whose working sites did not have a name –
unlike the Nikotychai Quarry, equipped with a sign announcing both its name and that
of its foreman Sarapion.
103 The late ostracon Ο.Claud. IV 841 differs from earlier texts in that the generic λατομία,
so often omitted otherwise, is systematically employed in front of the specific element.
It is also the only document where we note a double specific: λατ(ομίᾳ) Μέcῃ Εἴcειδι,
λατ(ομία) Μάρωνοc Μακρά.
3. On the fringe of quarries: krepides and kopai
104 In several lists of λατομίαι there are also names of κρηπίδεc, some of which are called
after a quarry. Documents such as O.Claud. IV 872 and 880 strongly suggest that these
“quays” are platforms for putting blocks on wagons, as can be seen at the bottom of the
Pillar-Wadi (Fig. 24). In O.Claud. IV 769, 770, 774, 775, 776, κρηπῖδ(ι) appears, clearly
without further specification, in lists of microtoponyms in the dative which are
generally quarries, but not exclusively, since there is also cτομωτηρίῳ (steelworks,
O.Claud. IV 776, 12). It could be what some toponomasticians call “appellative,”88 giving
the word the restricted sense of a generic used to designate a specific place, in other
words, a common categorising name used as a toponym: in this case, “the Quay.” In the
charts of water distribution, κρηπῖδι is, however, accompanied by a determinant. In the
best preserved of these charts, inv. 1538,89 we find, among the latomiai and other
microsites which received rations of water, κρηπῖδι Μεγάλ(ῃ) and κρηπῖδι Ἥραc.
Fig. 24
96
Mons Claudianus. Column shafts on the krepis at the bottom of the Pillar-
Wadi.
105 The term κοπή appears late in the ostraca of Mons Claudianus: four documents mention
it, dated to c. AD 150 according to stratigraphy and prosopography. A. Bülow-Jacobsen
convincingly suggests that it is a calque of caesura, a term that recurs in quarry-marks
at Dokimeion.90 The kopai are named after an important figure: the emperor (κοπὴ
κυριακή: O.Claud. IV 841, 9), the procurator sc. metallorum (ἐπίτροπον… τῆc αὐτοῦ κοπῆc:
O.Claud. IV 885, 6-7), Epaphroditos (κοπὴ Ἐπαφροδίτου: O.Claud. IV 841, 12; 30, O.Claud.
inv. 7134), Enkolpios (κοπὴ Ἐνκολπίου: O.Claud. IV 841, 26; 41, O.Claud. IV 896, 7). We
can probably identify the κοπὴ Ἐπαφροδίτου in the Latin mark CE⁀P [= c(aesura)
Ep(afroditi)] present at many quarries. The large account O.Claud. IV 841 shows the
latomiai as subdivisions of kopai. It is unclear whether kopai corresponded to geographic
areas of the metallon, or whether they were merely administrative categories, the
meaning of which escapes us. Although it does not appear in the Trajanic ostraca, the
system of the kopai must have existed before AD 150, since Enkolpios is known as
procurator metallorum under Trajan (I.Pan 38); concerning Epaphroditos –whose name is
more common– he is probably an imperial slave who was conductor metallorum in the
period when work in Claudianus and Porphyrites resumed under Hadrian, after the
Jewish Revolt of 115-118 (I. Pan 21 and 42).
V. Forts and fortlets (praesidia)

1. The toponyms on the amphora of the Barbarians (O.Krok. I 87)
106 O.Krok. I 87 is an amphora which the curator of Krokodilo used in year 2 of Hadrian’s
reign, to copy circulars passing through his hands. Many of them mention a mysterious
Parembole,91 as well as several praesidia with names that are not otherwise attested on
ostraca in the desert. These sites are probably outside Mons Berenicidis.
107 The toponymic character of Παρεμβολή is not above suspicion, since it could be a
common noun meaning “camp” (= Latin castra). Two circulars recount military
97
incidents at two praesidia which depend on this π/Παρεμβολή: Patkoua and Thonis
Megale. Παρεμβολή appears each time in a formula in which the author of the circular,
the centurion Cassius Victor, says that he attaches the copy of reports sent from these
two praesidia and that have come to him εἰc παρεμβολήν. The absence of the article
before παρεμβολήν is not a reliable indicator for deciding if this word is a toponym or a
common noun. However, two good arguments suggest that παρεμβολήν does not simply
mean “camp”. First, Cassius Victor addresses himself to a number of recipients
scattered over a wide area that exceeds the limits of the Berenike Desert (since it is
assumed that his correspondence will reach several prefects). Second, the language is
the detailed and codified, as shown by the care with which he states his identification
and that of his informants: ἐπάρχοιc, (ἑκατοντάρχαιc), (δεκαδάρχαιc), δουπλικαρείοιc,
cηcκουπλικαρείοιc, κουράτορcι πραιcιδ[ί]ων κατʼ ὠρεινῆc Κάcϲ ̣[ειο]c Βίκτωρ
(ἑκατοντάρχηc) [cπ]είρηc β {δευτέραc} Εἰτουρ α ̣ ί̣ ω
̣ ν
̣ ̣·ἀντείγραφ[ο]ν διπλώματοc
πεμφθέντοc μοι εἰc Π α ̣ ρ̣ ε̣ νβ ο̣ λ ̣ ὴ ̣ ν κτλ. (O.Krok. 87, 109-111), “To prefects,
centurions, decurions, duplicarii, sesquiplicarii, curators of the praesidia of the desert,
Cassius Victor, centurion of Cohort II {Second} of the Itureans. Copy of a diploma sent to
me at Parembole etc.”
108 If it is a place-name, as I think, Παρεμβολή is what toponymists call an “appellative.”92 I
suggested in O.Krok. I, p. 139-141 to identify this Παρεμβολή as Parembole, which is the
first fortified Roman site south of Syene according to the Antonine Itinerary (161.2).
109 We have seen that the two praesidia which depend on the castra of Parembole were
called Πατκουα and Θῶνιc Μεγάλη. The first is probably an Egyptian word.93 The
second hybrid combines an Egyptian noun (Θῶνιc= “The Lake, The Pond”) and a Greek
appellative adjective.
110 O.Krok. 87, 68 shows a third name for a praesidium, Νιτρίαι: one of the recopied circulars
emanates from a prefect,94 Cassius Taurus, and introduces a report from the κουράτωρ
πραιcι[δίου] Νειτρειῶν. The fortlet perhaps owed its name to the neighbouring natron
deposits of Laton Polis (O.Krok. I, p. 142).
2. Praesidia on the route to Myos Hormos
111 Κροκοδιλώ/Κορκοδιλώ (Al-Muwayh, [25° 56’ 33” N / 33° 24’ 04” E])
The praesidium of Krokodilo takes its name from the profile of the rocky hill which
overlooks it, when viewed from the northeast. The resemblance so struck a traveller
that he represented the hill in the form of a crocodile with a rounded snout in a rock
graffito in the area (Fig. 25a and 25b).95
98
Fig. 25a
The rock of Krokodilo seen from the northeast.

© Hélène Cuvigny
Fig. 25b
A rock graffito on a nearby cliff, probably inspired by the shape of the

hill.
© Hélène Cuvigny
112 Κροκοδιλώ seems to fit in the series of place names in -ώ well known in Egypt, but they
are usually late recharacterizations from the Byzantine and Arabic periods, such as
99
Λύκων Πόλιc becoming Λυκώ or Ἀφροδίτη, Ἀφροδιτώ.96 Here the toponym was created
ex nihilo in this form, and, moreover, in the early empire, since Krokodilo was founded
at the end of the first century CE, probably under Vespasian. Contemporaries were
themselves confused, since the form is spelled twice Κορκοδίλων (O.Krok. I 18, 5: εἰc
Κορκοδίλων; O.Krok. I 78: κουράτο ρ̣ ι̣ ̣ [πραιcιδίου Κορκοδί]λ ω ̣ ν). Κροκοδιλώ is
actually a case of a popular formation in -ώ, about which the words of P. Chantraine97
are illuminating: “the suffix was used mainly to provide derivatives of nouns.
Sometimes, it only serves to characterize the word as feminine: ἀνθρωπώ [= ‘woman’ in
Laconian dialect], but it is most common in nicknames like μορφώ [‘beautiful,’ the
name of Aphrodite in Sparta] or in words that designate a person or an animal feared
or despised: ἀκκώ [= old woman, scarecrow], μιμώ [= female monkey, hag ].” This
expressive suffix reveals that the toponym belongeg to popular speech. Such a
whimsical appellation is atypical for a name given by the Romans.
113 Πέρcου98
In the epigraphic proskynemata from the Paneion in the Wadi al-Hammamat, this
toponym appears firstly in demotic (prs) at the beginning of the Ptolemaic period, then
in Greek under the early Julio-Claudian emperors. At that time, Persou is the name of
the Wadi al-Hammamat quarries (called “Rohanou Valley” in Pharaonic times), as
proven beyond doubt by the proskynemata “in front of the gods of Persou” engraved on
the entrance of the small sanctuary of the village situated opposite the Paneion (25° 59’
25” N / 33° 34’ 12” E).
114 Three dated proskynemata mention Persou: Kayser 1993, No. 4= SB XXII 15642 from year
18 of Tiberius’ reign (AD 32); Kayser 1993, No. 15= SB XXII 15655, probably from year 10
of the same emperor (lacunose titulature); Kayser 1993, No. 7= SB XXII 15645, dated year
9 without the emperor’s name, that Fr. Kayser suggests is not of Tiberius, but Nero (AD
62), due to the position of the graffito on the doorpost.
115 In the Paneion facing the village, quarry workers carved several Demotic proskynemata,
and one in Greek, in which they claimed to be “from Persou and Tamostymis”
(cκληρουργὸc ἐκ Πέρcου καὶ Ταμοcτύμεωc, I.Ko.Ko. 105), which drove me to the
hypothesis of a complex toponym consisting of a correlated noun phrase (although this
structure is mainly attested in Egypt for the names of klèroi). Πέρcου would have been
the area of bekhen quarries (Wadi al-Hammamat) and Ταμόcτυμιc (assuming the name
inflects), the mines of Wadi al-Fawakhir.99 Ταμόcτυμιc is not attested elsewhere, other
than as epiklesis of Isis (Isis Ταμεcτομε) in a lost stele from Qusayr mentioned by
Adοlphe Reinach and dating back to year 25 of Augustus’ reign (6-5 BC).100
116 The ostraca from Krokodilo and Maximianon contain many references to a praesidium
of Persou, where Athena was honoured, and which had a vegetable garden that
provisioned these two sites. This praesidium, close to an abundant well, cannot be the
village of Wadi al-Hammamat, which does not have a well and which is not a praesidium:
it must be near Biʾr Umm Fawakhir, located some 5 km from the Paneion, but it has
been completely destroyed. I deduced that the toponym Persou migrated, and I
distinguished between Persou I (the village opposite the Paneion cave of Wadi al-
Hammamat) and Persou II (the praesidium next to Biʾr Umm Fawakhir, attested at least
from the time of Trajan). An ostracon found in Wadi al-Fawakhir and dating from the
reign of Caligula or Claudius101 reveals the presence of a Roman military post earlier
than the ostraca from Maximianon and Krokodilo, but we cannot tell if the name was
100
already Persou or still Tamostymis (if that name was indeed attached to the Wadi al-
Fawakhir).
117 The oldest papyrological reference to Persou predates the ostraca from Maximianon
and Krokodilo. This is a receipt on an ostracon belonging to Nikanor’s archive found at
Koptos, O.Petrie Mus. 112. It was issued in year 2 of Nero’s reign (AD 55/56) by a
κουράτωρ Πέρcου. It is difficult to decide where the soldier was stationed: still in the
village next to the Paneion of Wadi al-Hammamat where the last proskynemata engraved
on the door posts of the chapel door date back to Nero,102 or already in the Wadi al-
Fawakhir? The migration of the name Πέρcου from the Wadi al-Hammamat (Persou I)
to Wadi al-Fawakhir (Persou II) may have occurred when the village of Wadi al-
Hammamat was abandoned: it is a common fact that a toponym migrates from a
disused site to a nearby one, and it is not possible for two adjacent sites to have the
same name at the same time.103 Unless, as J.-P. Brun thinks, the name Tamostymis had
fallen into disuse and the complex toponym Πέρcου καὶ Ταμοcτύμιc was simplified
from the Ptolemaic period to Πέρcου to signify the combination that might be
considered a metallon, formed by the two sites.
118 It is unclear whether Πέρcου, an indeclinable genitive of Πέρcηc, is to be understood as
the ethnic or as the derived anthroponym.
119 Μαξιμιανόν (Al-Zarqa’[26° 00’ 03” N / 33° 47’ 15” E])
A proprial adjective derived from the anthroponym Maximus. This name probably
commemorates an important figure. One naturally thinks of the prefect of Egypt Julius
Ursus, who ordered the construction of forts on the Berenike road during Vespasian’s
reign. Two candidates come under consideration: C. Magius Maximus, prefect in year 1
of Tiberius’ reign (AD 14/15), and L. Laberius Maximus, prefect in AD 83 (year 2 of
Domitian’s reign). In the first case, Maximianon would have already been the name of
the Julio-Claudian military post, traces of which were found under the dump. In the
second case, it would mean that the present praesidium had been built a few years after
the Berenike road was developed, in AD 79. The first hypothesis is the more attractive,
since it is natural that a military post, when rebuilt, retains its name (cf. for instance
the praesidium of Apollonos Hydreuma, which kept the name of the station which
predates the praesidium).
120 Cιμίου (Biʾr Sayyala? [26° 07’ 29” N / 33° 55’ 50” E])
Simiou is probably an anthropotoponym, a genitive of the Greek anthroponym Cιμίαc
which has a variant with an expressive geminate, Cιμμίαc.104 It is the only ancient name
for a praesidium that we know for the section of road between Maximianon and Myos
Hormos. Thus, there are three candidates for identification: Al-Hamraʾ, Biʾr Sayyala
and Dawwi. O.Max. inv. 920, dating from c. AD 90-125 (according to stratigraphy)
clearly shows that the praesidia of Persou, Maximianon, and Simiou directly followed
from west to east when the ostracon was written. Dawwi, which is farthest from
Maximianon and whose construction date falls within the final phases of Maximianon,
can be ruled out.105 Al-Hamraʾ (26° 02’ 18” N / 33°53’ 29” E) is today the immediate
neighbour of Maximianon in the direction of Myos Hormos, but this fortlet appears to
have been built in the second quarter of the second century, which leaves open the
most interesting hypothesis that Simiou could be Biʾr Sayyala, a fortlet in which J.-
P. Brun’s excavations revealed a complex evolution that could date back to the
Ptolemaic period (although surveys, unfortunately limited, have not revealed Ptolemaic
material). Hence the idea that the praesidium would have followed on after the digging
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of a well, ordered by Simmias, when he was commissioned by Ptolemy III to capture

elephants.106 The Roman toponym would have retained the spelling without the
geminate.
3. Praesidia on the road to Berenike
121 Names of stopovers on the Berenike road have long been known –with some mistakes
that ostraca have enabled us to correct– thanks to three written Roman itineraries. The
route description by Pliny the Elder, which dates from a period before the construction
of the first praesidia in AD 76/77, shows that some of these were positioned around
older wells, the names of which were preserved, hence the generic element ὕδρευμα in
some of the complex toponyms. We cite them in the order in which they are
encountered from Koptos to Berenike.
122 Φοινικών (Al-Laqita [25° 52’ 57” N / 33° 07’ 22” E])
Today there are no remains of the praesidium where the roads to Myos Hormos and
Berenike meet, but the palm grove from where it got its name still exists. Φοινικών is
never preceded by the article.
123 Δίδυμοι (Khasm al-Minayh [25° 45’ 16” N / 33° 23’ 40” E])
The official name is Δίδυμοι (so εἰc Διδύμουc, ἀπὸ Διδύμων), but some writers have
hesitations. Thus, we find the singular in two ostraca of the third century: O.Did. 35,
letter of the curator of Aphrodite to Psenosiris, κου ̣[ρά]τορι Διδύμου and O.Did. 39,
draft of a hypomnema produced by Memnon, κουράτορο(c) π(ραιcιδίου) Διδύμου. An
earlier ostracon,107 expertly written, is an order from a certain Psenthotes to provide
rations to two passing donkey drivers or camel drivers, addressed “to the contractor of
the well at Didymos,” κονδούκτωρι Διδύμου ὑδρεύματ(οc). This Psenthotes must have
belonged to a transport company and may not have known the official name of
Didymoi, which would have been corrupted, taking its form from Ἀπόλλωνοc
Ὕδρευμα.
124 Placed under the protection of the Dioscuri (invoked in the proskynemata of letters
written there),108 Didymoi belongs to a series of three theotoponyms on the road from
Berenike, although δίδυμοι is not a proprial name, which explains that, unlike Διόc and
Ἀφροδίτη(c), it is never fixed in the genitive.
125 Ἀφροδίτη(c) Ὄρουc, “Aphrodite of the Desert” (25° 36’ 21” N / 33° 37’ 27” E)
Two ostraca from Didymoi attest the full name of the praesidium. The letter O.Did. 406, a
contract of sorts whereby a husband entrusts to another man the protection of his wife,
hired as a prostitute at Didymoi, stipulates that the protector give her back to her
husband ἐν πραιcειδίῳ Ἀφροδίτηc Ὄρουc. O.Did. 430 is a letter to a pimp written by
Longinus, κουράτωρ Ἀφροδείτηc Ὄρο<υ>c. This is the only toponym in our corpus to
include a locative modifier,109 perhaps to distinguish it from another Aphrodite of
which we have no knowledge. In Egypt, Ὄρουc is only found in the same position in the
toponyms Κερκέcουχα Ὄρουc, Ἰcίδιον Ὄρουc (villages) and Ἰcιεῖον Ὄρουc
(monastery).
126 There is some fluctuation in the ending of the theonym, which sometimes remains
fixed in the genitive Ἀφροδίτηc, and sometimes inflects: we find εἰc Ἀφροδείτηc in
O.Xer. inv. 1306 (titulus on amphora) and in the post register O.Did. 22, 3 and 5, but εἰc
Ἀφρ ο̣ δίδην in O.Did. 39, 8-9 and ἰc Ἀφροδείτην in O.Xer. inv. 995 fr.c, l. 5 (poem about
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the wells on the Berenike road). In the list of praesidia O.Dios inv. 18, it appears as
[Ἀφ]ροδίδη.
127 Κομπαcι (Biʾr Daghbagh [25° 23’ 52” N / 33° 49’ 08” E])
The reading Compasi of It. Ant., already confirmed by the inscription commemorating
the construction of the lacci (cisterns) at Apollonos Hydreuma, Compasi, Berenike and
Myos Hormos,110 is also found on many ostraca from Dios, the direct neighbour of
Κομπαcι to the south. The linguistic affiliation of the name is unclear; one would expect
an Egyptian name, like that of its tutelary deity, the goddess Techosis (Τέχωcιc), whose
name, attested as an anthroponym, but never as theonym, means “Nubian” (Tȝ-igš).111
This is the only deity with a vernacular name, honoured in a praesidium in the Eastern
Desert which is due to the age of the site. Here auriferous quartz veins were exploited
from the New Kingdom and still under the Ptolemies (from this period there are
remains of ore mills, identified as such through the best preserved mills excavated in
2014 at North Samut).112 When they opened the Koptos to Berenike road to traffic, the
Romans took advantage of the well at Daghbagh, which was presumably already named
Kompasi, although Pliny only calls it a hydreuma in his list of stages on the road. The
well must have been particularly productive because the ostraca from Dios reveal that
Kompasi was both a centre for market gardening and for laundry: the inhabitants of
Dios used to order fresh vegetables from Kompasi and to send their dirty laundry there.
128 Διόc (Abu Qurayya [25° 12’ 52” N / 34° 02’ 03” E])
Built, as indicated by its dedication, in AD 115/116, this praesidium probably kept the
name of the nearby fortlet it replaced, Biʾr Bayza. The latter may have been abandoned
because its well was not satisfactory. The excavations carried out by J.-P. Brun and
M. Reddé at Biʾr Bayza showed that this fort dates from an earlier period and is
probably contemporary with Didymoi and Aphrodites. Hence the idea that it was
already called Dios, which fits nicely in the series.
129 In Latin texts, Διόc is not transliterated but translated, as shown in the Antonine
Itinerary (Iovis), and in a Latin post register, where the curator presents himself as
curator praesidio Ioves (l. Iovis).113 Διόc is a fine example of the spontaneous adaptation in
daily speech of an institutional toponym. If the title of the commander of the fortlet is
κουράτωρ πρεcιδίου Διόc (O.Xer. inv. 310), the brevity of the word obviously displeased
the Greeks who, to say “go to Dios,” “send to Dios” wrote εἰc τὰ τοῦ Διόc and rarely εἰc
τὸ τοῦ Διόc, “Zeus’ Way,” so to speak.114 Finally, Τατουδιόc undergoes univerbation
among some writers. Thus we read in a letter: τίνι ἂν δῇc μονομάχο τῶν Tατουδιόc,
“the courier of Tatoudios to whom you will hand over...” (O.Dios inv. 1238). Or: κόμιcον
παρὰ Ἁτρῆν ἱππεὺc Τατουδιόc, “receive from Hatres, cavalryman from Tatoudios”
(O.Dios inv. 507).
130 Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc (Wadi Jirf, [24° 55’ 39” N / 34° 13’ 50” E])
Although the dedication of the fortlet was destroyed, depriving us of a precise date,
Xeron Pelagos was probably built at the same time as Didymoi, Aphrodite and Dios /
Biʾr Bayza on the orders of the prefect Iulius Ursus, in year 9 of Vespasian’s reign. Yet it
does not register in the theotoponymic system of these foundations, but received the
beautiful descriptive name “Dry Sea,” also used for an establishment of unknown
character in the vicinity of Mons Claudianus.115 The bestowal of two identical names is
possible only because the two areas, that of the great imperial quarries, and the Mons
Berenicidis, fell under two different administrations, so that there was no risk of
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confusion. The recurrence of the oxymoron Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc shows that the large sandy
stretches of the Eastern Desert spontaneously reminded the ancients of dried seas.
Literary reminiscences may have influenced the choice of the toponymic authority: at
the time when the two sites were bestowed this name, that is in the second half of the
first century CE, the paradoxical concept of a dry sea appears in several passages in
Latin poetry;116 it was only later, especially in the Byzantine period, that it is found in
Greek, also in poetic texts.
131 As Διόc, Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc may have been translated, not transliterated by Latin-
speakers: the fortlet is called Aristonis, probably a corruption of Aridum,117 in the
Antonine Itinerary, which also gives the neighbouring site the Latin form Iovis, while the
Peutinger Table and the Ravenna Cosmography have the Greek forms Xeron and Dios
respectively.
132 The place name, which appears only on ostraca from Dios and Xeron, is often
abbreviated Ξηρόν118 and no known example of Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc comes from within
these two forts, where deposits of ostraca are later, as if the second element had been
abandoned in the third century. In fact, there is no trace in the three ancient itineraries
of the transferred generic, Πέλαγοc.
133 Φαλακρόν (Duwayj [24° 44’ 09” N / 34° 25’ 40” E])
This is probably the name of the remarkably well preserved fort of Wadi Duwayj
investigated by Michel Reddé in 2010, during our first season in Xeron, but the
toponym does not appear in the few ostraca collected on site,119 nor in the letters from
Duwayj found at Xeron.
134 In all ostraca where it appears, the toponym (Falacro in It. Ant., Philacon in Tab. Peut.) is a
neuter word of the second declension. The earliest occurrence is in O.Krok. I 61, 4
(102/103 or 121/122), where a Beduin attack is perhaps mentioned, which would have
occurred κατὰ Φαλακρόν. This suggests that the praesidium already existed, though the
rarity of the name in ostraca from Dios and Xeron could have made us doubt this. In the
latter site, an immediate neighbour of Duwayj, the name of Phalakron appears only in a
poem on the wells (O.Xer. inv. 995, beginning of the third century). In O.Dios inv. 818, a
list of praesidia, Xeron directly follows Apollonos (it is true that this list also omits Dios
between Xeron and Kompasi).
135 The generic element which tacitly relates to Φαλακρόν can not be πραιcίδιον, as a bald
fortlet does not make sense; I am inclined to believe that Φαλακρόν is the abbreviation
of a complex toponym, like Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc, often abbreviated Ξηρόν, and that the
generic element that can be restored is Ὄροc as in Μέλαν Ὄροc, or Ἄκρον,
Ἀκρωτήριον. “Bald Mountain” would refer to the pointed mountain that stands out
behind the praesidium (Fig. 26).
Fig. 26
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The praesidium of Phalakron. In the background, the bald mountain.

© M. Reddé
136 Ἀπόλλωνοc Ὕδρευμα (Wadi Jamal [24° 32’ 06” N / 34° 44’ 15” E])
The oldest attestation of the site is in Pliny, Nat. 6.102 (mox ad hydreuma Apollinis), but it
may be mentioned in an ostracon from the third century BC found at Biʾr Samut
(O.Sam. inv. 720). We read τοῖc ἐπὶ τοῦ Ἀπολλωνίου καὶ Προεμβήcει καὶ Πανιείωι in
the prescript of this circular addressed to supervisors responsible for several successive
stages of the road from Edfu to Berenike. Without being completely sure, we have
reason to believe that Proembesis is the ancient name of Biʾr Samut; as for Paneion, the
last named stage, this can probably be identified with the station located in front of the
Paneion of al-Kanayis. The order of the sites mentioned is, thus, from the south towards
the valley. It is, therefore, tempting to identify this τοῦ Ἀπολλωνίου with Ἀπόλλωνοc
Ὕδρευμα, admitting the preterition of the generic element, but also an error with the
specific, the theonym having been replaced by an anthroponym.
137 In the ostraca of the praesidia, the generic Ὕδρευμα is indifferently employed 120 or
omitted.121
138 Καβαλcι? (Abu Ghusun [24° 23’ 13” N / 35° 02’ 56” E])
Until recently, the name of the stage situated between Apollonos and Kainon Hydreuma
occurred only in the three itineraries of the manuscript tradition, which offer various
spellings: Gabaum, Cabalsi, Cabau. It now appears in a poem of the third century on wells
found at Xeron (O.Xer. inv. 995, Br. C, 14 [Fig. 27]). Unfortunately, it is compressed at
the end of a line and may be abbreviated. Only the first three letters are certain: Καυ
̣ ̣ ̣ . The grapheme b of the Latin transliterations can be explained by the
spirantization the consonant v in Latin.
Fig. 27
O.Xer. inv. 995, fr. c: Kabalsi? mentioned at the end of line 14.
105
139 At the time of Pliny, there were no wells between Apollonos Hydreuma and Novum
Hydreuma. Despite its oddity, the toponym Kabalsi? should be part of the building
campaign ordered by Iulius Ursus in AD 76/77. The traditional identification with the
visible remains of Abu Ghusun, where the surface ceramics were dated 1st to 2nd and 4th
to 6th centuries,122 is questionable.
140 Καινὸν Ὕδρευμα (Wadi Abu Qurayya?)
This praesidium on the Berenike road, built on the site of a well already mentioned
under the name “New Well” by Pliny,123 appears also in the three itineraries of the
manuscript tradition. We do not know if this toponym, of which Pliny was aware, dates
back to (at least) the Ptolemaic period, or if it refers to the sinking of a new well in the
first years of the Principate. Kainon Hydreuma is too far south to appear with any
frequency on the ostraca from the fortlets we have excavated. It is however mentioned
in the poem found in Xeron, which celebrates the water from the various wells on the
Berenike road, listed from north to south: Καινὸν Ὕδ(ρευμα) (O.Xer. inv. 995, fr. c, 15).
According to the stratigraphy, the poem dates from the beginning of the 3rd century
and agrees with other sources that make Kainon Hydreuma the last stage on the road
before Berenike.
141 The identification of Καινὸν Ὕδρευμα is debated. I share the not uncommon opinion
that it is the site called today Wadi Abu Qurayya, a cluster of several buildings situated
uphill and downhill. Among them, two fortlets are well visible on Google Earth at the
bottom of the mountain (24° 03’ 45” N / 35° 18’ 05” E). Up to now, the most suggestive
description is that of Meredith, based on Wilkinson’s unpublished travel diary:
“Wilkinson found here separate walled enclosures of various shapes and sizes, one
being a normal Roman square but without bastions and another a square but with one
rounded end (with bastions), closely resembling the castellum at Semnah (…). Three
small forts perched on isolated hills are situated at intervals extending over a mile up a
wadi. The last of these overlooks a well beside which are remains of what may be the
beginning of a long conduit or aqueduct down to the main enclosures. This small hill
fort contains within its wall a high point from which all the other enclosures are
visible.”124
142 According to S. E. Sidebotham, Wadi Abu Qurayya was occupied, from the evidence of
the surface ceramics, from the Ptolemaic period to late antiquity.125 The site is at 25 km
from Berenike, which nicely fits with the 18 Roman miles indicated by the Antonine
Itinerary between the two places. There the Greek Καινὸν Ὕδρευμα is transliterated in
Latin Cenon Hidreuma.
143 The question of the identification of Καινὸν Ὕδρευμα has been embroiled by the
mention, in Pliny, of a vetus hydreuma which has focussed scholars’ attention, probably
because of a mistranslation in the Loeb edition: mox ad Novum Hydreuma a
Copto CCXXXVI. Est et aliud hydreuma vetus –Trogodyticum nominatur, ubi praesidium excubat
deverticulo duum milium; distat a Novo Hydreumate VII. This passage should be understood
as follows: “Then (one arrives) at New Well, at 236 miles from Coptos. There exists also
another well, an old one, which is called ‘Trogodytic,’ where a garrison mounts guard,
two miles off the main route. It is at a distance of 7 miles from Novum Hydreuma.” In
this text, it should be observed at first that hydreuma vetus is not a toponym. The
toponym which Pliny attributes to this “old well” is Trogodyticum. It appears in no other
106
source. Scholars are thus wrong to speak of a station which would have been called
Vetus Hydreuma. Second, why did many scholars identify Wadi Abu Qurayya with
“Vetus Hydreuma”? Because, I think, of the mistranslation in the Loeb edition, where it
is understood that the garrison there consisted of two thousand men. Five forts were
not too much to host this huge troop! But, if “Vetus Hydreuma” was identified with
Wadi Abu Qurayya, Novum Hydreuma had to be placed elsewhere. On Meredith’s map,
it is situated at Wadi al-Kashir (24° 11’ 03” N / 35° 14’ 05” E). Until recently, it was also
Sidebotham’s view. However, there is nothing there, except for what looks like a hafir,
i.e. an oval levee of gravel meant to retain flood water.126 S.E. Sidebotham informs me
that he now prefers to identify Novum Hydreuma with the tiny fort of Wadi Lahma (or
Lahami, 24° 09’ 55” N / 35° 21’ 55” E).127
144 Scholars who identify Wadi Abu Qurayya with the alleged Vetus Hydreuma are well
aware that Wadi Abu Qurayya tallies, in terms of distance, with the Cenon Hidreuma of
the Antonine Itinerary. It obliges them to imagine either that Pliny’s New Well is another
one than the Itinerary’s, or that Novum Hydreuma and “Vetus Hydreuma” are one and
the same site.128 As for the Plinian Trogodyticum Hydreuma, it remains a mystery.
4. Praesidia surrounding Mons Claudianus
145 Three names of praesidia, other than those that control the metalla of Claudianus and
Tiberiane appear in the O.Claud. Raïma is by far the most represented, with approx.
90 occurrences; Kampe has 16 references, and Lakkos, only one which is certain.
146 Ῥαϊμα, Ῥαειμα (Abu Zawal? [26° 40’ 18” N / 33° 14’ 26” E])
Both spellings are well represented: they are two different ways of rendering the
diaeresis. The word normally does not inflect, but it exceptionally has an accusative
ending in inv. 1801 (εἰc Ῥαϊμαν). Christian Robin, whom I consulted on this toponym,
believes that a Semitic origin (specifically Arabic or Aramaic) is possible. I reproduce
the note, dated 28/07/1994, with which he kindly provided me: “The RYM root is well
attested in Arabic, see especially (dictionary Kazimirski):
raym: supplement; hill; tomb; white gazelle
rīm: tomb; burial
147 In Arabic, adding -a(t) gives the singular (as opposed to the collective). The Greek Ῥαϊμα
can, therefore, transcribe an Arabic word Rayma(t) whose meaning could be “hill,”
“tomb,” etc. In Hebrew and Syriac, the correspondent of the root RYM is RWM, which
can give derivative forms with a Y in place of W in Syriac (dictionary Payne Smith):
raymoʾ: wild bull, buffalo, unicorn
reyomoʾ: support
reyomtoʾ: very large stone, barrier
148 Not only may the toponym Ῥαϊμα be of Semitic origin (specifically Arabic or Aramaic),
but it has a matching term in Yemen, and a rarer one in Saudi Arabia. In south Yemen,
the repertoire of toponyms indicates four Rayma (People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen.
Official Standard Names. Prepared by the Defense Mapping Agency Topographic Center,
Washington 1976, p. 165). In North Yemen, a less systematic repertoire gives seven. In
Saudi Arabia, I note five Rīm, one ar-Rīmān, one Rīmān and one ar-Rayma. Rayma is a very
common toponym in southern Arabia (but rarer in the Arabian desert).”
149 The many letters written by curators of Raïma to correspondents at Mons Claudianus
(centurion, curator, oikonomos) show that Raïma was the first way station after
107
Claudianus in the direction of the Nile and, conversely, the last station before
Claudianus on the ὁδὸc Κλαυδιανοῦ. These messages are often cover letters or receipts
tracking the official letter.
150 Raïma was not only an official relay station of the postal service, but also a stage where
caravans and teams drawing wheeled vehicles stopped and drank. The praesidium must
have had a well like many fortlets of the desert. It is possible that they had to build a
second one nearby: this could be the ydreuma which, writing from Raïma, Antistius
Flaccus tells his colleague Caninius, who is at Mons Claudianus, about the successful
drilling (O.Claud. I 2). They certainly did not wait until the reign of Trajan (date of the
letter) to sink a well in Raïma, the name of which is restored with a fair degree of
certainty on an ostracon of AD 68.129 This new well near Raïma may be the same as that
referenced in the letters of Demetras O.Claud. II 383 and IV 864: Demetras informs his
correspondents that a stonecutter sent from Mons Claudianus was not present at the
hydreuma, and, secondly, that baskets which should have been sent from Raïma to the
hydreuma went off to Claudianus. Several curators’ letters betray the fear of running
out of water or are requests for equipment for the maintenance of shadufs (plural,
κήλωνεc, κηλώνεια: one for each well?).130
151 It comes as no surprise that Raïma has a vegetable garden (κῆποc), which allows the
curator to send vegetables to the centurion stationed at Claudianus (O.Claud. II 370).
152 One would think that Raïma received its supplies from the valley, when the poreia went
towards Claudianus, passing through Raïma. Yet we observe that Raïma’s granaries are
sometimes supplied from Claudianus (O.Claud. I 124 and 125: acknowledgments for loads
of achyron [chaff] sent from Claudianus to Raïma by the caesarianus Successus; inv. 2188:
acknowledgment to Philon for three artabai of bread). Raïma has a granary, and its
manager (θηcαυροφύλαξ) informs his counterpart in Claudianus that a carpenter
collected his rations at Raïma (inv. 555).
153 The only major way station that could correspond to what we know about Raïma from
this communication is Abu Zawal,131 c. 33 km walk from Claudianus. We owe to R. and
D. Klemm the best description of this site, which was exploited as a gold mine under the
New Empire and under the Ptolemies.132 According to their observations, Abu Zawal
was only a station on the road to Claudianus in Roman times. They published a photo of
an ostracon from the dump west of the fortlet, with a translation given to them by the
late Georges Nachtergael. Here is the text, which I transcribe from the photo (Fig. 28):133
Ψεντάηcιc Ἀμμωνίῳ τῶ ͅ ἀδελ-

φῶ ͅ χαίρειν. κόμιcον ῥακάδιν
cκάτεα χυριδίων. ἄcπαcε Καcυλ-
4
λᾶτι.
vacat
ἐρρῶcθαί cε.
2 l. κόμιcαι 3 l. cκατῶν χυ- ex χρ- corr. l. χοιρ- l. ἄcπαϲαι 3-4 l. Καcυλλᾶν 5 cε––
Psentaesis to Ammonios his brother, greetings. Take delivery of a rag containing pig manure.
Greet Kasyllas. Farewell.
Fig. 28
108
Ostracon found at Abu Zawal.

© R. Klemm
154 The three people mentioned have, unfortunately, not been identified with individuals
known from the Claudianus ostraca, whence the letter was probably sent. It could
indirectly confirm the identification of Abu Zawal with Raïma. Not only did Raïma have
a vegetable garden, but an ostracon from Mons Claudianus, O.Claud. II 280, a letter from
a praesidium where market gardening is practised (it ends with the information,
“vegetables have not grown yet”),134 accompanies the empty return of “the basket you
sent us loaded with excrements,135 that you will return to us when you get the
opportunity.” The soiled basket could probably only serve for these contents thereafter
in the comings and goings between Claudianus and Raïma. On the ostracon from Abu
Zawal manure is not transported in a basket, but in a piece of cloth. The diminutive
ῥακάδιον (of τὸ ῥάκοc, “rag”) is only known from papyrological documentation, and
nearly all the occurrences are found on ostraca from the Eastern Desert, where a
ῥακάδιον is for packaging up sticks of collyrium, dates and a tunic. 136 The editor of
O.Claud. II 280 questions the nature of the fertilizer sent: the ostracon from Abu Zawal
perhaps offers a response (and suggests additionally that there were no pigs at Raïma
when this letter was written). It remains, nevertheless, curious that this gardener from
Raïma is not happy with donkey or camel dung which must have been locally plentiful:
did the pig waste have a special reputation? This is the case at least for the cultivation
of certain fruit trees, according to Theophrastus (CP 2.14.2, 3.10.3 [ὑεία κόπροc]) and
Pliny (Nat. 17.258-259 [fimum suillum]). But there may be another hypothesis: this was
not for fertilizer, but an ingredient for a medicinal preparation or magic potion, as in
the letter O.Did. 395, which contains the promise to bring τὸ cκῶρ τῶ χυρογρύλω (τοῦ
χοιρογρύλλου), “the dung of hyrax.”137 A morphological argument could be made in
favour of this hypothesis: the curious accusative plural cκάτεα calls to mind a remark
by Gignac on the non-contracted accusative plural -εα instead of -η neuter nouns
ending in -οc (type γένοc, gen. γένουc): accusative -εα is found only in magical papyri.
138
In fact, next to the classical form τὸ cκῶρ, gen. cκατόc, Phrynichus (2nd century CE)
indicates a common form τὸ cκάτοc, gen. cκάτουc.139 It should be observed, however,
that the pig is virtually the only domestic animal whose droppings are not widely
109
advocated by ancient pharmacopoeia.140 Nevertheless, it is remarkable that none of the

three ostraca from the Eastern Desert mentioning manure employs the usual term,
which is κόπροc, both in magical or medical recipes or when it refers to fertilizer.
155 Καμπή
This praesidium141 is mentioned in sixteen ostraca, Trajanic and later, of Mons
Claudianus. Its name seems to suggest that it was on a bend. This concept is common in
toponymy.142 Once, in a letter, the word is preceded by the article (εἰc τὴν Καμπήν,
O.Claud. I 155). In a proskynema in front of the Tyche of Kampe, the word is s-enlarged
(τῆ ͅ Τύχῃ Καμπῆτοc, O.Claud. II 237, 5). Two letters addressed by curators of Raïma
(presumably Abu Zawal) to curators of Claudianus acknowledge receipt of post sent
from Claudianus and confirm that it has been forwarded at once to Kampe (O.Claud.
inv. 7027 and 7595). It seems therefore that Kampe was a station beyond Raïma in the
direction of the Nile. Hence three identifications are possible: (1) Kampe would be the
station of Al-Saqiya on the road to Porphyrites; its name, “The Bend,” would refer to
the fact that one would turn off at Kampe towards Claudianus. Al-Saqiya (26° 44’ 04” N /
32° 52’ 54” E) is at c. 38 km walk from Abu Zawal. (2) Kampe would be Talʿat al-Zarqaʾ
(26° 35’ 09” N / 33° 11’ 56” E). This site, which was never excavated, is called today Abu
Shuwayhat by the Beduins; it comprises a well and animal-lines, and is situated at the
entrance of the mountains, where a network of small valleys allows direct access to Abu
Zawal (at least, it looks feasible on Google Earth for a pedestrian or a rider); the
shortest way between the two sites is c. 11 km. (3) Kampe would be Qarya (26° 22’
16” N / 33° 01’ 08” E). This praesidium, which can be seen behind the railway from the
old Qena-Safaga road, is equipped with animal-lines. It may have been at the junction
of the via Claudiana and the routes towards more southern sites, especially the
Ophiates.
156 Λάκκοc
O.Claud. inv. 2283 (Trajanic?) suggests that Lakkos, the Cistern, is a praesidium, probably
so called by metonymy, because it did not have a well, only a cistern that was filled
thanks to the caravans of animals loaded with skins. The recipient of this wrathful
letter, in which he is accused of not having returned all the skins, is κουράτωρ Λάκκου,
and the title curator is attested in the Eastern Desert for curatores praesidiorum only. The
small praesidium at Mons Claudianus which, since Schweinfurt, has infelicitously been
called “The Hydreuma,” despite the fact that it has no well but only a cistern, might be
a good candidate. Howewer, this identification is not confirmed by the ostraca found on
the spot: the address of destination, when written on amphoras found at “The
Hydreuma” is εἰc Κλαυδιανόν.143
157 O.Claud. inv. 2283 is the only certain evidence of a praesidium called Lakkos. Among the
other occurrences in the Claudianus corpus of the noun λάκκοc, I am tempted to
believe that in O.Claud. IV 714 and 717 (Trajanic) this is also the praesidium because of its
proximity to two other toponyms: in these lists, the last items are, in order: λάκκῳ
(Λάκκῳ?), Ῥαιμα, Αἰγύπτῳ, ἄρρωcτοι, “to the cistern (C-?), at Raïma, in Egypt, sick
people.”
110
5. Praesidia surrounding Umm Balad

A. The field data
158 Four fortified quadrangles exist within a radius of ten kilometers of Umm Balad. The
most frequent names of praesidia in O.KaLa. necessarily refer at least to some of them.
These four praesidia are:
– Qattar (27° 05’ 21” N / 33° 13’ 44” E) is located directly on the ὁδὸc Πορφυρίτου and
9 km as the crow flies from Umm Balad, c. 11.5 km for a traveller. It is the immediate
neighbour of Umm Balad in the direction of Qena / Kaine.144 As all the way-stations on
the hodos Porphyritou (which Umm Balad is not), the praesidium of Qattar is flanked by
animal-lines. All traces of the ancient well have disappeared: either it was inside the
fort and was destroyed by the construction of modern wells, or it was outside and has
silted up.
– Badiya (27° 12’ 52” N / 33° 20’ 42” E) is at 9 km as the crow flies, 11.20 km drive from
Umm Balad, and its immediate neighbour in the direction of Porphyrites.145 Like Umm
Balad, it is located a short distance from the large Wadi Belih that the ὁδὸc Πορφυρίτου
follows. The animal lines, which extend in front of the fort, show that it was an
important stopping point for beasts of burden and draught animals coming or going to
Porphyrites (see Fig. 29). From Badiya there were two routes to Porphyrites. Men and
beasts could get to the “footpath station” at the foot of the mountain and pass through
it by a zigzag trail on the hillside that led to Wadi Maʿmal and the administrative centre
of the metallon. However, transport wagons that were to be loaded with monoliths at
the main loading ramp (Fig. 29) would have followed a track skirting the massif of Jabal
Dukkhan. This long detour route was mainly used for the monoliths coming down from
Porphyrites. A few metres from the fortlet of Badiya rises a curiously fortified rocky
hill. There is no well within the praesidium; the closest known well, Biʾr Badiya, still in
use, is 500 m away; it is not possible to know whether it is the ancient well. A nearby
well, that is unknown today, may have supplied the occupants of the fortlet.
- The “footpath station” (27° 13’ 03” N / 33° 18’ 25” E) is a tiny fort 8 km from Umm
Balad as the crow flies, on a shortcut to Wadi Maʿmal where the administrative centre
of Porphyrites was.146 This winding route 147 allowed quicker access to Wadi Maʿmal for
human and animal pedestrian traffic148 than that via Wadi Umm Sidri, which wheeled
vehicles would have used (Fig. 29). It is unclear whether camels could use it or not.149
The satellite image shows that one could join this fort from Umm Balad bypassing
Badiya, but we did not have time to explore exactly which route the ancients took. I
believe, from the image, that this route was about 12 km.
– Wadi Belih (27° 14’ 19” N / 33° 22’ 55” E, at 13.5 km from Umm Balad as the crow flies).
150 This is a small praesidium with an atypical plan, seemingly devoid of an inner well,
located in the estuary of Wadi Belih. It was, therefore, at the entrance (for traffic from
the Red Sea) of the diagonal connecting Porphyrites and, later, the fort of Abu Sha‘r to
Qena/Kaine across the Arabic chain, with Wadi Belih continuing into Wadi al-Atrash.
Was the fortlet used to control the entry of the route to the Nile? Was it a way-station
on the via Hadriana?151 It was one kilometre away from the heavy-loads route to the
Porphyrites, which went through Badiya.152 From Wadi Belih one could reach Badiya by
walking just over 5 km. Wadi Belih has never been excavated; it has been dated from
the surface ceramics to the first and second centuries CE.153.
111
Fig. 29
Tracks to Porphyrites, according to Maxfield, Peacock 2001, p. 194. The

wells identified are reported.
© S. Goddard
159 In the following table all the toponyms in the Umm Balad corpus are presented. A site is
characterized as a praesidium when under the command of a curator or when the
generic praesidium is attached to the specific. Names of metalla have already been
studied; those of wells are in the section on hydreumata.
Table 4
topographic object Number of occurrences154 Of which number of tituli
Kaine Latomia metallon + praesidium 102 93
Domitiane metallon+ praesidium 43 31
Porphyrites metallon + praesidium 36 5
Claudianus metallon+ praesidium 6 0
Prasou praesidium + well 29 2
Sabelbi praesidium + well 22 6
Akantha praesidium 10 0
Kardameton well 7 0
112
Arabarches metallon? 4 1
Germanike Latomia metallon 1 0
Melan Oros praesidium 5 1
The toponyms mentioned in the ostraca from Umm Balad.
160 Μέλαν Ὄροc (Dayr al-Atrash?)

Among the praesidia mentioned in the ostraca from Umm Balad, Melan Oros has the
fewest references: five in all. So it was probably the farthest away. Yet, its identification
seems the soundest. Two of these occurrences clearly demonstrate that Melan Oros was
between Umm Balad and the Nile Valley. In O.KaLa. inv. 637, the soldier Marcus Ares
Verus, stationed at Melan Oros, promises to send vegetables to the Chief Doctor at
Umm Balad “when the steward for the provisions for soldiers comes (sc. from the
valley).” In O.KaLa. inv. 275, Antistius, short of bread, asks his correspondent Antonius,
who is at Umm Balad, to send him some on the next poreia: we understand that when
the supply caravan comes from the valley, Antistius will receive his bread ration and
will take a portion that he will resend on the poreia so that it gets to Umm Balad, for
Antonius. To reassure Antonius of a quick refund, Antistius added this encouraging
information, “they say that the poreia is at Melan Oros” (ἐν Μέλανι Ὄρει). The find in
Umm Balad of an amphora titulus mentioning the destination of Μέλαν Ὄρο[c] could be
explained by a similar arrangement.155
161 The demand for bread suggests that there is at least one praesidium (the one where
Antistius is stationed) between Umm Balad and Melan Oros. As Melan Oros cannot be
far away, it is tempting to identify it as Dayr al-Atrash, Antistius being then stationed at
Qattar.
162 Μέλαν Ὄροc is once followed by the generic: a soldier is described in a draft of a letter
as cτρατιώτηc ἀπὸ Μέλανοc Ὄρουc πραιcιδίου (O.KaLa. inv. 637). Here, πραιcιδίου is
not the third element of a complex toponym, but an apposition.
163 It is tempting to identify the praesidium of the Black Mountain as that of the Black Stone
Mountain (μέλανοc λίθου ὄροc) that Ptolemy, in his list of the Eastern Desert quarries
Geogr. 4.5.27,156 inserted between the mountain of porphyry and the mountain of
basanites (i.e. greywacke quarries of the Wadi al-Hammamat).157 The editors of the
Geography, including Müller, do not provide an identification.
164 Πράcου (Badiya or Qattar?)
Indeclinable, the genitive of τὸ πράcον, the leek, which is also the name of a cape on the
eastern coast of the African continent, mentioned several times by Ptolemy (τὸ Πράcον
ἀκρωτήριον).158 In the case of a cape, τὸ πράcον must refer not to the vegetable, but to a
seaweed, posidonia.
165 According to letters sent to Umm Balad, this praesidium had a well, a cistern and a
vegetable garden. As it seems to be an immediate neighbour of Umm Balad, it must be
Badiya or Qattar, but the content of the letters does not allow us to be sure.
166 Abundantly attested in the ostraca of Umm Balad, Prasou may be mentioned in O.Claud.
inv. 3438 (Trajanic), a fragmentary letter in which Epagathos asks Geta to send him
something related to cavalry men; line 4 reads: ἐν Π ρ̣ άcου π [̣ .
113
167 Cαβελβι (Badiya or Qattar?)

This site, which has 22 occurrences in ostraca from Umm Balad, cannot be far away.
The existence of a curator of Sabelbi guarantees that it is a praesidium. Letter O.KaLa.
inv. 266 is particularly informative: its author, Paulinus, asks his correspondent to send
three men as reinforcements to clean out the well at Sabelbi so that the wagon will
have water when it returns from Porphyrites. It is, therefore, tempting to assume that
Sabelbi can be identified with Badiya (for another argument in favour of Badiya, see
§ 167), However, Qattar cannot be ruled out: would not the wagon returning from
Porphyrites need water not only from Badiya, but also from Qattar? A. Bülow-Jacobsen,
however, cites O.KaLa. inv. 422 to support the second hypothesis:159 Hieronymos
addresses this letter to Maximus, stationed in Umm Balad, asking him to send ropes “so
that the wagon can hold steady on the descent (τὸ καταβατόν) which is at Sabelbi.”
Close to Qattar the track descends gently: for A. Bülow-Jacobsen, this is what is meant
with καταβατόν. A wagon carrying a monolith must have stopped at the top of this
slope, waiting for the ropes to retain it.
168 The spelling of this enigmatic place name varies: Cαβελβια ̣ (O.KaLa. inv. 697), Cεβιλβια
(accusative Cεβιλβιαν) in O.KaLa. inv. 208 and 564 (although in this case, the
palaeography suggests rather Cαβελβιλ), Cαβαλ[ (O.KaLa. inv. 541). I have found only
two foreign names with a similarity to Cαβελβι: the Libyan name Ταβαλβιc160 and the
name of the Mysian Cταβέλβιοc in Aristotle’s Economics (1353b). Cornelia Römer
suggested to me a comparison with the Arabic sabil.
169 Ἄκανθα
The existence of a curator of Akantha, the author of a letter sent to a centurion residing
in Umm Balad,161 seems sufficient to consider that this site, probably named after a
remarkable acacia, either due to its isolation, or size, had the status of a praesidium. The
moderate number of occurrences suggests that Akantha is either relatively far from
Umm Balad (but perhaps not as far as Melan Oros), or off the road to Porphyrites. In
reality, it cannot be very far: the purpose of the curator’s letter is, in fact, to complain
about a certain Amais, posted at Umm Balad, who refused to send his rations to a
certain Mithron stationed at Akantha. Mithron is forced to go to Umm Balad to pick
them up, probably with the letter from his curator. Akantha may not be a stop for the
poreia, the supply caravan.
170 Three letters date from the Domitianic-Trajanic phase of Umm Balad, which are
requests to the authorities of Umm Balad (a centurion, the curator, the architect
Hieronymos)162 to order the garrison at Sabelbi to send a cavalryman to escort a camel
going to Akantha, so that it will not be going alone. Akantha seems, thus, to be a remote
site accessed via Sabelbi. If Sabelbi is to be identified with Badiya, then Akantha could
be either the footpath station or the fortlet of Wadi Belih. Two of these requests come
from Turranius, who I think is curator at Prasou.163 On the other hand, I do not see
which praesidium Akantha could be if one identifies Sabelbi with Qattar, unless Akantha
is the same site as the well of Akanthion (once called Ἄκανθα) mentioned in the ostraca
from Mons Claudianus and the eponym of a road.164 Is there a road linking Claudianus
to the region of Umm Balad? The possibility of such a route exists: after crossing the
sand-sea that spreads NW of Claudianus, one enters the mountains, then bears SW
towards Umm Shejilat (26° 56’ 36” N/33° 14’ 53” E); 1.5 km NE of this little quarry, one
follows up a NS wadi towards Qattar. There Meredith’s map has a well called Biʾr Umm
Disi, invisible on the satellite photo. However, I do not think that this discreet well
114
could be the remnants of the Akantha of O.Claud. and O.KaLa. In the O.Claud., the
Akantha provides water for Mons Claudianus (§ 179): Biʾr Umm Disi is too far away for
that. On the other hand, the Akantha in the O.KaLa. is under the command of a curator:
it must have been a fortified well, in other words a praesidium, which would have left
traces. Akantha still exists in the third century: it is mentioned in several of the ten
letters of the small archive of the centurion Caninius Dionysios, who seems to have had
a short-lived stay in the praesidium of Umm Balad at the time.
171 Ἄκανθα inflects. Unlike for the well named τὸ Ἀκάνθιον in O.Claud., the use of the
article in front of Ἄκανθα is variable and appears to depend on individuals or perhaps
the date.165 Turranius, author of many letters during the first phase of Umm Balad, uses
the article, which is absent in three letters (of two different writers) from the
3rd century archive of Caninius Dionysios.
6. Conclusion on the toponymy of the praesidia
172 Among the names of Greek and Latin praesidia, some are declinable, others are fixed in
the genitive; these are underlined in the table below:
Table 5
noun adjective
Ἄκανθα, Δίδυμοι, Καμπή, Κροκοδιλώ, Νιτρίαι, Πράcου, Ξηρόν,

appellative
Φοινικών Φαλακρόν
2 appellatives (noun +
Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc, Μέλαν Ὄροc, Θῶνιc Μεγάλη
adjective)
Ἀφροδείτηc / Ἀφροδείτη, Διόc, Ἀπόλλωνοc, Cιμίου,

proprial Μαξιμιανόν
Πέρcου
Names of the praesidia
173 It appears from this table that the names of praesidia which remain in the genitive are
proprial names (theonyms and anthroponyms), Πράcου being the exception. In the
case of Ἀπόλλωνοc, the fossilization of the genitive comes from the abbreviation of
Ἀπόλλωνοc ῞Υδρευμα, but this explanation does not account for Διόc and Ἀφροδίτηc,
where it is known that the praesidium was not founded on the site of an old well whose
compound name would have been retained. These genitives are, therefore, understood
as complements to the term πραιcίδιον even if this noun, unlike ὕδρευμα, is practically
never used as generic constituent in a complex toponym (§ 162).
174 In three cases, the names of praesidia are unique adjectives. Μαξιμιανόν, a proprial
adjective, agrees with the implied generic πραιcίδιον; in the case of Ξηρόν, the noun
understood is not πραιcίδιον but Πέλαγοc, which is also not always omitted and which
has the distinction of being a generic element “transferred,” i.e. referring to a another
topographic object that it names. Φαλακρόν also cannot refer to a πραιcίδιον, but
probably to a noun meaning “mountain;” so this is probably another example of
transferred generics, but always omitted, at least in the documentation that we have.
115
VI. Wells (hydreumata)

175 Misled by the text of Pliny and some complex toponyms which include the generic
Ὕδρευμα, modern scholars have long identified the fortlets of the Eastern Desert as
hydreumata, from where, for example, comes the unfortunate name “the Hydreuma” for
the small fort of Mons Claudianus, although it has no well (§ 156), as it was long
believed that hydreuma meant any water point, whether it was a well or a tank. This is
not so: the ostraca of the Eastern Desert have shown that this term, peculiar to Greek
spoken in Egypt, only meant a well. In the Eastern Desert, a water-tank is ὑδρεία and, in
Roman times, λάκκοc.
176 The hydreumata listed below are isolated wells, not integrated in any praesidium. In the
ostraca from Umm Balad, a single well (which has not been identified in the field)
seems to correspond to this definition: Καρδάμητον is designated as τὸ Καρδαμήτου
ὕδρευμα in O.KaLa. inv. 747. This name is found in four ostraca. It is a hybrid, made
from the Greek κάρδαμον, “cress”, and the Latin suffix -etum, which serves to form
collective nouns.166 Καρδάμητον, therefore, means “watercress bed,” a feature that is
difficult to imagine in the desert. Unlike τὸ Ἀκάνθιον, Καρδάμητον is never used with
the article, perhaps because the speakers did not see this strange hybrid as a common
noun: ἐν Καρδαμήτῳ (O.KaLa. inv. 307), εἰc Καρδάμητον (O.KaLa. inv. 850).
177 All other hydreumata addressed in this section are mentioned in ostraca from Mons
Claudianus, with one exception, that we can no longer locate. One of them was perhaps
the well of Wadi Umm Diqal,167 located in the middle of a quadrangle, which is 3.4 km
from the praesidium of the Wadi Umm Husayn, when one uses the way that passes in
front of the “Hydreuma.” The exception is the Hydreuma Traianon Dakikon, which was
sunk at the time of Trajan, a few metres west of the praesidium of the Wadi Umm
Husayn. This honorary toponym (the only one in our corpus) is known from two
inscriptions:
ὕδρευμα εὐτυχέcτατον Τραιανὸν Δακικόν / fons felicissimus Traianus Dacicus (altar
I.Pan 37, AD 108/109)
(ὕδρευμα εὐτυχέcτατον) Τραιανὸν Δακικόν / fons abundans aquae felicis Traianus
Dacicus (lintel in the room of cisterns, SEG XLII 1574)
178 These inscriptions were probably engraved for the inauguration of the well by the
prefect Sulpicius Similis who came in person. The altar-inscription, on the podium of
the Serapeum, has been known for long, but has now been destroyed. The other text is
engraved on the lintel of the door of the cistern room, and was discovered during the
1991 season inside the praesidium (Fig. 30). Jean Bingen, the editor of the lintel
inscription, considers Τραιανὸν Δακικόν/Traianus Dacicus as the name of the well, to the
exclusion of the rest (ὕδρευμα εὐτυχέcτατον, fons felicissimus, fons abundans aquae felicis)
which he calls a “qualification”.168 The structure of this toponym, however, is not
unusual: generic (ὕδρευμα/fons), followed by an accumulation of specifics with a
variant in Latin. For lack of space, the stonecutter has omitted ὕδρευμα εὐτυχέcτατον
and placed in the centre as a common factor fons abundans aquae felicis, while the last
two specifics expressing loyalty to the emperor were arranged on both sides in Latin
and Greek. It is possible that this cumbersome toponym, that was not in common use,
refers, through metonymy, to the whole settlement of Wadi Umm Husayn. This would
explain why neither of the inscriptions were found next to the well proper. In the third
116
century BC, another well-station of the Eastern Desert combines the idea of good luck
with a dynastic name: τὸ Ἀρcινόηc Εὔκαιρον ὕδρευμα, mentioned in several circulars
found in Biʾr Samut.
Fig. 30
The lintel of the room of cisterns at Mons Claudianus.

179 Τὸ Ἀκάνθιον, Ἄκανθα, “the Acacia”

Several Trajanic ostraca from Mons Claudianus mention a well, where trains of camels
went to fetch water, normally called τὸ Ἀκάνθιον (always with the article), and once, in
a Greek letter written by a Latin-speaker, Ἄκανθα (no article and not declined: εἰc
Ἄκανθα, O.Claud. II 362). The money account O.Claud. inv. 3819 ends with the order:
ἔρχου ἰc τὸ Ἀκάνθιον ̣ τὸ ὕδρευμα. This is the only instance where that toponym
explicitely refers to a well.
180 A road was called after this well, according to two passes sent to stationarii / epiteretai
[ὁδοῦ] Ἀκανθίου (O.Claud. I 77 and 81); ὁδοῦ is restored each time, but this seems to be
a necessary restoration. It must be a secondary path leading from Claudianus to this
well.
181 The well of Dioskoureia
The letter O.Claud. inv. 490 concerns a case of a diverted waterskin, in which “the men
at the well of the Dioskoureia” (οἱ ἐκ τοῦ ὑδρεύματοc \τῶν/ Διοcκορίων) are involved.
According to this ostracon, water was transported from this well to water the horses
accompanying the poreia, i.e. the caravan periodically provisioning the metallon. The
toponym is also attested in the great Trajanic water-chart169, where it appears among
the names of sites and quarries receiving water rations: latomiai, loading ramps
(κρηπίδεc) of latomiai, steelworks (cτομωτήριον) and a watchtower (cκόπελοc). The
names of the supplied sites are in the dative, and so is Διοcκορίοιc, which probably
refers to the hydreuma of the Dioskoureia in the letter, but as water is sent there, the
well must be under construction. A further probable instance of the toponym appears
in O.Claud. inv. 7955.
O.Claud.inv. 7955 (Fig. 31) Trajan
Well – S1 C-W 4 8 x 6,5 cm Nile silt clay
Upper right corner of a letter, perhaps unfinished, written by an anonymous curator
who broke off when he saw an error in the prescript, for which we do not have a similar
formula. Should we restore ἐν (τοῖc) Δι]ο c̣ κορείοιc ? But what came before?
↓ ]c κουράτωρ
vac.
-- Δι]ο c̣ κορείοιc χαίρειν
-- ξ]ύλα δ ̅ ἀνθ ̣’ οὗ vac.
] vac.
117
Fig. 31
O.Claud. inv. 7955.

182 Καττίου, the well of Cattius

Mentioned in the Trajanic corpus, but also in later ostraca. Καττίου is either the name
of a well, or rather perhaps that of a sector of a metallon where there was also a well.
Besides the entry ὑδρεύματι Καττίου in O.Claud. IV 700, 10 (Trajanic), an account of
workers broken down by assignments, and O.Claud. inv. 3114, where Kattiou is a place
whence camels are returning laden with water, one notes also the phrase τὰ Καττίου
(with a variant τὸ Καττίου) or τὰ Κ α ̣ τ̣ τ̣ ί̣ ου [μέ?]ρη (O.Claud. IV 760, but, there, I
consider the dotted letters as uncertain, as well as the restoration). Kattiou is also a
place to which extraction tools are sent. Occurrences of Καττίου are:
O.Claud. IV 697, 8 (Trajanic): account of workers broken down according to place or kind
of work (often in the dative), including Καττίου.
O.Claud. IV 746 (Trajanic), a note appointing a certain Leonides εἰc τὸ
Καττίου (implying ὕδρευμα?).
O.Claud. IV 632, 1-2 (Trajanic): εἰ ϲ̣ ̣ τὰ ̣ | Καττίου is tempting (see O.Claud. IV 757),
although there seem to be marks after τά (Fig. 32).
Fig. 32
O.Claud. IV 632, 1-2.

O.Claud. inv. 2853, 1 (Trajanic): water-chart of the same series as the inv. 1538. The first
section, which concerns blacksmiths’ rations distributed to various stations, includes
[the loading ramp (κρηπίc)], the Mese quarry, steelworks (cτομωτηρίῳ) and Καττίου.
118
O.Claud. inv. 3114 (Trajanic): report on the movements of water-transport camels; 76

camels, loaded with water, came from Kattiou.
O.Claud. IV 797 (Trajanic): note about the sending of tools εἰc Καττίου.
O.Claud. inv. 3342 (Trajanic), acknowledgment for a skin; the ticket written in charcoal
was pre-written in ink with the place of origin of the skin (ἀπὸ Καττίου) and the date.
O.Claud. IV 757 belongs to a series of daily activity reports (Antonine); on that day,
1st Epeiph, workers cleaned the trench of the column which was being extracted in
Kattiou’s sector: τοῦ εἰc τὰ Καττίου cτύλ(ου). O.Claud. IV 760, mentioned above, is the
only other example of Καττίου during the Antonine period. There is no indication at
this time that the well was still working.
183 The topographic feature which Kattiou refers to is not clear. Used on its own, could
Καττίου perhaps be considered as a name of λατομία or as the abbreviation of the
phrase ὕδρευμα Καττίου? Does τὰ Καττίου mean “Cattius’ sector” or perhaps, for short,
“the sector (of the well) of Cattius”? Because the names of the other wells are not
drawn from an anthroponym, I suggest that Καττίου was the name of an area, before
being that of the well drilled there.
184 Cαλαειc
This name, possibly Semitic and indeclinable (εἰc Cαλαειc, ἀπὸ Cαλαειc) is only attested
in Trajanic reports on the movements of the camels entitled ἀπόλογοι ὑδροφορίαc.170
At Salaeis, there was a well where camels were sent to fetch water.
Conclusion on the toponymy of wells
185 None of the names of these peripheral wells is a complex toponym with the
postpositioned generic ῞Υδρευμα (cf. Ἀπόλλωνοc ῞Υδρευμα). They are indicated either
by means of a phrase where the toponym, in the genitive, is a complement to ὕδρευμα
(τὸ Καρδαμήτου ὕδρευμα, τὸ ὕδρευμα τῶν Διοcκορείων) or by appending ὕδρευμα to a
toponym, the use of articles following the rules of apposition (τὸ Ἀκάνθιον τὸ ὕδρευμα,
cf. § 21). If they are used without ὕδρευμα, the well names are declinable, except the
one that is taken from an anthroponym, Καττίου.
VII. Roads
186 In the road-names of the Eastern Desert, the generic constituent ὁδόc, contrary to
πόλις, κώμη, ὕδρευμα, precedes the specific. The latter, except the particular case of
the via Hadriana, is either the name of the terminal of a road in the genitive (usually its
destination from a reference point situated in the valley),171 or a proprial adjective
derived from that name. In the first case, ὁδόc is followed by the name in the genitive
of the metallon or seaport. The second case conforms to Latin usage, where the use of an
adjective is preferred when forming a complex toponym which contains a generic.172
187 The road from Kaine to Mons Claudianus is called ὁδὸc Κλαυδιανοῦ in three passes
issued by the centurion Antoninus, but ὁδὸc Κλαυδιανή only in one pass issued by the
centurion Accius Optatus.
188 The road from Kaine to Porphyrites is called ὁδὸc Πορφυρίτου (no adjectival variant).
Unlike Claudianus, the Greek noun Πορφυρίτηc normally cannot be used directly as an
119
adjective: the corresponding adjective is πορφυριτικόc. The phrase ὁδὸc πορφυριτική,

though grammatically correct, is not attested, but we find the adjectives πορφυριτικόc
and Κλαυδιανόc in a toponymic phrase in AD 214/215: τοῖc Πορφυρειτικοῖc καὶ
Κλαυδιανοῖc μετάλλοιc.173
189 The road from Koptos to Myos Hormos is sometimes called ὁδὸc Μυcόρμου, sometimes
ὁδὸc Μυcορμιτική: the use of a derivative adjective, although in this case with a Greek
suffix, perhaps betrays the Latin influence.
190 The road to Berenike is always written as ὁδὸc Βερενίκηc, with the sole exception of
Βερνικηcία ὁδόc in O.Dios inv. 457 (AD 219), where the order of the terms is unusual for
a road-name. The suffix -ήcιοc serves to transpose into Greek the situative Latin suffix -
ensis. This suggests that, in Latin, the road was called via Berenicensis.
191 In O.Claud. I 77 and 81 [ὁδὸc] Ἀκανθίου is probably a small road, from Claudianus, to
one of the wells on which it depended for its water supply, the Akanthion (§ 179).
192 The Latin name of via Hadriana was formed in the Medieval period using the only
evidence of this toponym, which appears only in Greek in the dedication of this road,
inscribed on a pedestal erected in Antinoou Polis (I.Pan 80, 8): ὁδὸc Καινὴ Ἁδριανή. The
inscription shows that, in the mental representation of the developers of the via
Hadriana, the orientation of the road was reversed compared to other roads of the
Eastern Desert, since its destination was not Berenike, but Antinoou Polis: ὁδὸν Καινὴν
Ἁδριανὴν ἀπὸ Βερενίκηc εἰc Ἀντινόου.
VIII. Ports of the Red Sea

1. Berenike, Berenicis and Mons Berenicidis
193 The southernmost area of the Egyptian Eastern Desert took the name Desert of
Berenike in about 4 BC, once the Romans had revived the Ptolemaic port of Berenike
and built a new road from Koptos to that port. The term “Desert of Berenike” is
abundantly attested. In Greek, it is ὄροc Βερενίκηc. In Latin, one encounters the
expression in inscriptions mentioning the Prefect of Berenike and we see that the name
of the city was then, with one exception, suffixed by -is. We find once praefectus
praesidiorum et montis Beronices, but three times praefectus Montis Berenicidis or simply
praefectus Berenicidis. There is also the ablative Berenicide in the large inscription from
Koptos commemorating the construction of water-tanks by the army (ILS 2483= I.Portes
56).174 However, the port of Βερενίκη on the Red Sea was never called Βερενικίc in
Greek. There is a parallel phenomenon with Βερενίκη in Cyrenaica, which is called
Berenicis in the Pharsalia of Lucan (9.524) and in the Punica of Silius Italicus (3.249).175
Editors justify this discrepancy considering that Berenicis is suffixed following the
model of choronyms such as Ἀργολίc, Μεγαρίc, Περcίc, where the generic γῆ or χώρα is
elided.176 The suffix -is would mean that the referent is not the city alone, but the city
and its chora. I admit that it would provide a very satisfactory solution in the case of the
title praefectus Berenicidis. This is probably the reason why F. De Romanis interpreted
the toponym Berenicis as a choronym in Latin inscriptions, which leads him to consider
that the inscription ILS 2483 refers to the construction of a well in Berenicis (i.e. the
region of Berenike), and that this well is Καινὸν Ὕδρευμα, which is 25 km above
Berenike.177
120
194 However, we should abandon the idea that, in the case of Βερενίκη / Βερενικίc, the
suffix -ίc denotes a choronym. In the Peutinger Table and Ravenna Cosmography,
Berenicide clearly designates the end point of the road, not a region, and corresponds to
Berenike in the Antonine Itinerary, which is more faithful to the Greek usage. Two
toponyms of Arsinoïte, Βερενικὶc Θεcμοφόρου and Βερενικὶc Αἰγιαλοῦ are examples of
the suffix referring to simple villages, and not to districts. Therefore, it appears that,
when -ίc is added to a dynastic anthroponym, it is to characterize it as a toponym, not
to designate a region. The example of the two villages shows that when a settlement
was called after a Queen Berenike, the naming authorities had the option of keeping
the name unchanged, or of adding a suffix to emphasize that this was a toponym.178 In
the case of the port of Berenike, there was a degree of fluctuation in Latin, but not in
Greek. Frédérique Biville, whom I consulted on this Latin initiative to add a Greek suffix
to a Greek base where the Greek model never appears to have a suffix, replied: “It is not
surprising, I think, that there were Latin-speakers who felt the need to over-
characterize the name Berenike: we also see that there is what could be called ‘the Greek
of the Romans’, Greek forms and words created by the Romans, which are only
documented in a Greco-Roman context.”179
195 In the Greek and Latin names of the Desert of Berenike, the generic Ὄροc / Mons does
not designate a mountain as in classical Greek or Latin, or as in the phrase Mons
Claudianus, but it is a calque of the Egyptian ḏw.180 Unaware of this Egyptian peculiarity,
the editors of the latest edition of Ptolemy’s Geography resume the old idea that
Berenicidis mons could be an alternative name for “Mons Smaragdus.”181 The Romans
showed a double conservatism, first by reproducing, through the Greek, an Egyptian
word, and secondly by maintaining the dynastic name of the port of Berenike (which is
nothing exceptional). But they were highly innovative in renaming the region after this
port so far out, while the desert was named during the Ptolemaic period by reference to
Koptos, as shown by a Greek inscription from 130 BC, where it is called τὸ κατὰ Κόπτον
ὄροc, literally “the desert adjacent to Koptos.”182 This expression is also the calque of
the ancient Egyptian name ḏw Gbtyw. One can question this desire to put Berenike in
the limelight at the expense of Koptos, while Roman Koptos was a thriving city with a
monumental centre, whereas Berenike, devoid of an agricultural hinterland, was at the
end of the earth. So much so that the governor of the Desert of Berenike was sometimes
called, for short, the Prefect of Berenike, while its offices were at Koptos and he cannot
often have come to Berenike. The idea behind the name was to suggest that Berenike,
rather than on the borders of the empire, was now at the centre of a zone of Roman
influence that extended well beyond it. There was perhaps some truth in this view,
when we consider that, at least under Antoninus Pius, but perhaps even before, the
Romans had a military base in the remote Farasan Islands.
2. Origin of the toponym Myos Hormos
196 Myos Hormos183 is a Ptolemaic foundation, but its picturesque name contrasts with the
series of dynastic names conferred to Ptolemaic port foundations on the Red Sea.
Agatharchides of Knidos (floruit c. 150 BC) attributes an alternative name to it,
Ἀφροδίτηc ὅρμοc, which, according to the version of his treaty on the Red Sea
transmitted by Photius, was substituted, in his time, by the original toponym: ἐφεξῆc
δὲ λιμὴν μέγαc ἐκδέχεται, ὃc πρότερον μὲν Μυὸc ἐκαλεῖτο ὅρμοc, ἔπειτα δὲ
121
Ἀφροδίτηc ὠνομάcθη, “immediately after, there comes a major port formerly known as
the anchorage of the Mouse and which was called afterwards the anchorage of
Aphrodite” (Phot., Bibl. 250.81). If we are to believe Agatharchides, this port offers a
case of competition between a spontaneous, popular naming and one that has a more
formal flavour and would have temporarily replaced the first. Μυὸc Ὅρμοc was
definitively imposed during the imperial period. In most of its occurrences in the
ostraca from Krokodilo, the complex toponym Μυὸc Ὅρμοc has become a compound,
Μύcορμοc.184 The alternative name Ἀφροδίτηc, of which one no longer hears in Roman
times, remains an enigma: on what occasion and why would the toponym have been
changed?
197 In versions of the treatise passed down by Diodorus Siculus (which mentions only the
theotoponym) and Strabo, we also learn that the entrance to the anchorage is curved:
… κεῖται λιμὴν cκολιὸν ἔχων τὸν εἴcπλουν, ἐπώνυμοc Ἀφροδίτηc (DS 3.39.1); εἶτα
Μυὸc ὅρμον ὃν καὶ Ἀφροδίτηc ὅρμον καλεῖcθαι, λιμένα μέγαν, τὸν εἴcπλουν ἔχοντα
cκολιόν (Str. 16.4.5). Note that the word translated as anchorage, ὅρμοc, can be used
figuratively to mean “refuge.”
198 Scholars have been intrigued by the name Μυὸc Ὅρμοc. In the nineteenth century the
Egyptologist H. Brugsch, followed by F. De Romanis, tried to explain it through the
corruption of the Egyptian toponym mstj contained in the list of foreign peoples of
Tutmosis III at Karnak. Not being an egyptologist, I will not dwell on this hypothesis
that implies that Myos Hormos would have been a very old foundation, for which there
is no archaeological evidence. Other researchers have proposed that in this toponym,
the Greek word μῦc (genitive μυόc), “mouse,” took on one of its other meanings,
“mussel,” which would make more sense for a coastal town.
199 The map of the port published by the British mission of David Peacock and Lucy Blue
suggested another hypothesis to me, which I have already presented in the article Myos
Hormos of The Encyclopaedia of Ancient History: Myos Hormos had the distinction of
having been built in an inland lagoon, now silted up. This lagoon was connected to the
sea through a narrow opening where the coral-reef was interrupted because of the
fresh water of the wadis floods that poured into the lagoon. The ships had to go
through a curved channel, a feature described by Agatharchides of Knidos in such a
way as to suggest that it was a striking sight for the eye witness. I think the image
behind the name Myos Hormos is that of boats sneaking like mice into a small hole to
find refuge. Some types of light ancient ships were, indeed, named after the mouse,
such as myoparon or musculus.185
200 From the compound toponym Μύcορμοc, known through the ostraca of the praesidia, is
derived the adjective Μυcορμιτικόc, employed as a specific in the road name ὁδὸc
Μυcορμιτική. The existence of a demonym Ὁρμίτηc evidenced in the form Ὡρμίτῳ in
P.Ber. II 129, 22 and which refers to Myos Hormos, is hypothetical.
3. Philotera, Philoteris and the Philoterion
201 Ancient writers mention a port on the Red Sea, named after a sister of Ptolemy
Philadelphus and founded by Satyrus, an explorer of the Trogodytike for capturing
elephants.186 Stephanus Byzantius (Ethnica, ed. Meineke, p. 666) reports that besides
Φιλωτέρα, the suffixed form Φιλωτερίc is known, which was retained by Pomponius
122
Mela, Chorogr. 3.80.187 Pliny, Nat. 6.168, cites Philoterias188 as an alternative name for an
oppidum parvum otherwise known as Aenum. Ptolemy places Φιλωτέραc λιμήν directly
south of Myos Hormos (Geogr. 4.5.14), whereas for Artemidorus and Pliny, Philotera is
at the north end of the Gulf of Suez. Ostraca found in Myos Hormos and, to a lesser
extent, at Maximianon and Krokodilo, show that the memory of the Ptolemaic princess
remained significant in the area of Myos Hormos. Ostraca from Myos Hormos mention
both a port called Philoteris (a boat went there from Myos Hormos) and a Philoterion
(preceded by the definite article): are the two mixed up? Or was the Philoterion the
temple of which scarce remains were found at Qusayr, a few kilometers south of Myos
Hormos? Or is it the temple erected at the mining site of Biʾr Karim, where one of the
wells was still supplying water to Qusayr in the nineteenth century?189 These
hypotheses are discussed in the article by W. Van Rengen, who also uses as evidence
the letters on ostraca found at Maximianon including proskynemata to the goddess
Philotera. Where do these letters come from? Considering that these proskynemata to
Philotera matched those to Athena contained in the letters from Persou (Biʾr Umm
Fawakhir), we considered at the outset that the letters citing Philotera were written in
the praesidium that came after Maximianon in the direction of Myos Hormos,
presumably the Simiou of our ostraca, if we accept the Ptolemaic origin of this
toponym (it would derive from the name of the explorer Simmias).190 Although the
aedes of that praesidium could have been called a Philoterion (thus, the aedes of Xeron, a
fortlet where epistolary proskynemata address Athena, is called “the Athenadion” in a
report on a nighttime incident), it is unthinkable that a military chapel enjoyed such
fame that it was spoken of at Myos Hormos. The Philoterion was a larger feature; the
name of the temple may have been extended by metonymy, to the place where it was.
To evidence of Philoterion in the Myos Hormos ostraca we can add a letter found in
Maximianon, which also contains one of these proskynemata before Philotera. 191 It is,
unfortunately, very fragmentary, but it suggests that letters arriving at Maximianon
with proskynemata before Philotera may not have been written in a praesidium on the
road, but at Philoterion, wherever it might be. Biʾr Karim would not be a bad candidate:
located south of the hodos Mysormitike, it is the same distance from Maximianon as Biʾr
Sayyala (Simiou according to us) and the topography allows one to reach Maximianon
without having to go round the mountain (Fig. 33).192 The surface ceramics date from
the Roman period,193 but there are traces of Ptolemaic occupation.194
Fig. 33
Maximianon (al-Zarqaʾ hamza) Myos Hormos, Biʾr Karim (from Meredith

1958).
123
202 The toponym Philotera / Philoteris does not appear in the ostraca of the praesidia
except perhaps in O.Krok. I 46, 6, a fragment of a liber litterarum which reads -
ελ]η λ̣ υθέναι ἰc Φιλ[.
203 Finally, it should be noted that the name Philotera, which is not common in Roman
Egypt, is carried by a young woman from the circle of Philokles, a food supplier and
pimp who operated in the time of Trajan in the praesidia of the northern part of the
Desert of Berenike.
IX. Unidentified topographic features

204 Ἵπποc
O.Krok. I 120 is an activity report dated 7th Pachon and written in the first person by K---
s, a signifer, who is said to be going on reconnaissance with the cavalryman Marinus
ἕ ω ̣ ̣ τ ο̣ ῦ
ϲ ̣ Ἵπ π ̣ ο̣ υ ̣ ̣. The infrared photograph made since the publication
failed to provide a more accurate reading, but neither did it challenge it (Fig. 34): it
remains possible and even quite probable. Since these daily notes are usually prepared
by the curator praesidii, and since signifer is the only rank we know of for this non-
commissioned officer, K---s is probably the curator himself, who took with him one of
the cavalrymen of his garrison. Perhaps τοῦ ἵππου must be taken merely as a common
noun (a cavalryman was attacked between two praesidia, the corpse of his horse left
behind became a temporary landmark). However, we can read in an ostracon from
Maximianon, in a lacunose context, ἐμὲ ὄντα ἰc ἵππου πετρ ̣[, “me being at Hippou,”
or, if we restore πέτρ[αν, “at Hippou Petra,” “the horse rock” (Fig. 35).
Fig. 34
O.Krok. I 120.
124
Fig. 35
O.Max. inv. 1099, 7.

205 Κάνωποc
Address of the destination of a letter found in Didymoi (εἰc Κάνοπον, O.Did. 370, 1).
206 Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc
Homonym of a praesidium on the Berenike road, this site, probably near Mons
Claudianus, is mentioned in three ostraca from the Trajanic period. One of them,
O.Claud. I 141, gives the impression that it is a quarry. The author of the letter says that
he passed Xeron Pelagos, where he met the centurion Crispus and another man who
told him: καταcπῶμεν τὸν λουτῆρα, “we brought the tub down.” The reading of the
editio princeps has been corrected, cf. BL XI 294 sq., where the verb has, however, been
misunderstood. It is not about knocking down, i.e. starting the exploitation of the
Louter quarry in Mons Claudianus, but bringing down a sink or tub from the quarry at
Xeron Pelagos; the meaning of καταcπᾶν and of the deverbative κατάcπαcιc is
ascertained through several ostraca from Umm Balad (e.g. P.Worp 50, 11-12).
207 A. Bülow-Jacobsen has suggested that this Xeron Pelagos could be the small quarry at
Fatira Wadi al-Bayda (26° 44’ 01” N / 33° 19’ 25” E), to which J. Harrell drew our
attention.195 As the crow flies, the site is 18.30 km southwest of Claudianus, and 10.5 km
northeast of Abu Zawal (Raïma?). There is no fortlet there, but cellae, some of which
form a row. Further west, along the same wadi are other traces of Roman mining,
where S.E. Sidebotham noted the inscription of the possible procurator Diadumenus.196
208 Ὀcτρεών
This toponym (“place of oysters / shells”) appears only in O.Krok. I 47 (AD 109), in the
report of a skirmish where Phoinikon is also mentioned (l. 14: ἀπὸ Ὀcτρεῶνοc; l. 22:
ἐ]ν Ὀcτρεῶνι). The site was, therefore, not far away, but the spoilt context does not
give us any more information.
209 τὸ Cυκου / τὸ Cυκα
There are only two occurrences of this microtoponym variously spelled in two ostraca
in the series of ἀπόλογοι ὑδροφορίαc (O.Claud. inv. 1530 and 2470 [Trajan]). Each time,
only one camel loaded with 4 waterskins leaves for that destination (εἰc τὸ Cυκου, εἰc
τὸ Cυκα). Is the toponym derived from τὸ cῦκον “fig”? It does not seem abbreviated (in
this series, the abbreviations are always signalized with a graphic mark).
210 Two indeterminate toponyms result from misreadings and are ghost-names:
211 Cιαροι
In O.Max. inv. 639, 12-13 (Route I, p. 57= SB XXVIII 17083) εἰc C ια ρ̣ ο̣ υϲ ̣ → εἰc
Cιμί ο̣ υ (interpunction).
212 Cμιλία
O.Claud. IV 841, 66. πρὸ ̅ cμειλίων → πρὸ ϛ̅ μειλίων, “before 6 miles.” This is an
indication of distance. Distances were estimated in the desert in Roman miles.197
125
X. Conclusion
1. Place and preterition of the generic element
213 Generics to be considered in the analysis of the toponyms of the Eastern Desert are:
ὁδόc, λατομία, μέταλλον, ὅρμοc, ὄροc, πραιcίδιον, ὕδρευμα. They do not all behave in
the same way in the formation of names: ὁδόc is necessary, while elision is almost the
rule for μέταλλον and πραιcίδιον except in the title of the curatores; some generics
(λατομία, ὅρμοc, ὕδρευμα) may, like πόλιc or κώμη, be placed after the specific to form
a complex toponym (which I have chosen to highlight using the uppercase).
214 Ὁδόc and ὄροc normally precede the specific element which, except in the case of the
via Hadriana, is a city name in the genitive. Ὁδόc is never omitted.
215 The toponym Ὄροc Βερενίκηc and its Latin equivalent Mons Berenicidis / Berenikes have
the particularity of being shortened in two ways: as part of the title of the territorial
prefect, it can be reduced to one or the other of its two components: ἔπαρχοc Ὄρουc
Βερενίκηc, ἔπαρχοc Ὄρουc, ἔπαρχοc Βερενίκηc. The latter formula, which is
ambiguous, is the least common; it may be early: of the four examples, all epigraphic,
two are dated from the time of Augustus and Tiberius, respectively.198 Such metonymies
are characteristic of administrative denominations (cf. the ancient city-states, and
today Quebec or Mexico). When Ὄροc / Mons is used alone to mean “Desert (sc. of
Berenike),” it can be considered as an “appellative” in the narrow sense fit for
toponyms.199 In toponyms, elision of the specific is normally encountered only in a local
and familiar context. It is, therefore, remarkable that the term ἔπαρχοc Ὄρουc was
used in official contexts and even outside the desert (petition P.Turner 34; ἐπίτροποc
Ὄρουc in the dedication from Koptos I.Portes 86).
216 Usually omitted, except in the title of curators, μέταλλον and πραιcίδιον200 are not
included in the toponym with two exceptions.201 They always precede the specific
element: κουράτωρ πραιcιδίου Μαξιμιανοῦ, κουράτωρ μετάλλου Κλαυδιανοῦ, εἰc
πραιcίδιον Μαξιμιανόν.202
217 Λατομία and ὕδρευμα may be placed after the specific. A complex toponym thus formed
is sometimes abbreviated. This is the case with Ἀπόλλωνοc / Ἀπόλλωνοc Ὕδρευμα,
but it never happens when the specific component is an adjective (Καινὴ Λατομία,
Καινὸν Ὕδρευμα are never abbreviated to Καινή, Καινόν).
218 When a complex toponym is abbreviated, it is the second element that goes (Ὄροc
Βερενίκηc → Ὄροc,203 Ἀπόλλωνοc Ὕδρευμα → Ἀπόλλωνοc, Ἀφροδίτη(c) Ὄρουc →
Ἀφροδίτη(c), Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοc → Ξηρόν).
219 Unlike Ἀπόλλωνοc Ὕδρευμα (or toponyms with Πόλιc), Μυόc Ὅρμοc is never
abbreviated to Μυὸc. However, it often becomes a compound and while the expected
form should be *Μύορμοc, we have Μύcορμοc (and the adjective Μυcορμιτικόc).
220 When Ἀπόλλωνοc Ὕδρευμα is abbreviated, Ἀπόλλωνοc remains in the genitive, which
is not the case for λατομία Ἀπόλλωνοc at Mons Claudianus: when the generic is elided,
the specific theophoric (as well as the anthropophoric) inflects. The rule is, therefore,
different for λατομίαι and πραιcίδια. Indeed, if we compare λατομία Ἀπόλλωνοc with
126
the similar phrase πραιcίδιον Ἀφροδίτηc, we see that Ἀφροδίτηc remains (mostly) in
the genitive when πραιcίδιον is omitted.
2. The use of the article
221 Analysis of the use of the article with toponyms is complicated by the scarcity of
examples and by the flexibility of use. Even when the rule is that a toponym takes the
article, it tends to be omitted after a preposition (this is not unique to toponyms, but all
nouns),
204 especially in documents where brevity is favoured, namely lists and accounts.
222 For obvious reasons, most of our topographic features are not included in the pages
that Mayser205 dedicated to the use of the article for toponyms (countries and islands,
towns and villages, mountains, rivers, sanctuaries, urban neighbourhoods, squares,
etc., which rank in the category Lokalnamen).
223 Let us revisit the observations of Mayser:
Table 6
– countries: use ad hoc; generally with Ἀcία or Αἴγυπτοc,

countries, regions exceptionally with Αἰθιοπία
– Egyptian nomes: always the article
do not take the article. Exceptions:

– in the case of the repetition of a toponym (anaphoric
article)
– when the toponym is a generic appellative, it may take the
towns, villages
article
– in an abbreviated phrase, a complex toponym sometimes
takes the article
– foreign toponyms sometimes take the article
mountains, rivers take the article, which can be omitted after a preposition
microtoponyms (urban areas, take the article, also after a preposition (except in a concise
temples, squares) style)
Use of the article before toponyms
224 What do we observe in the Eastern Desert? The article is used more easily before
toponyms that are or contain common nouns. The impression emerges that the article
is stronger in the Ptolemaic ostraca from Biʾr Samut where, even after a preposition,
αἱ Πύλαι and τὸ Cαπαρ always take the article, and Ῥάμνοc almost always, which
suggests that these places were sites of minor importance. In the Roman period, the
names of praesidia behave like names of cities or villages, and do not normally take the
article, even when they are common nouns; though there is an exception, in the case of
εἰc τὴν Καμπήν and especially Ἄκανθα in ostraca from Umm Balad: out of eight
examples, four take the article.
127
225 The names of latomiai can take the article even if they are proper nouns (εἰc τὸν
Διόνυcον). Usage is flexible for Πορφυρίτηc and Κλαυδιανόν,206 perhaps because these
metalla are treated as regions. The name of the small metallon of Καινὴ Λατομία almost
only appears as the destination address on amphoric tituli (about 70 examples); we note
only one example of εἰc τὴν Καινὴν Λατομίαν (O.KaLa. inv. 435). Δομιτιανή
(16 examples) is never preceded by the article.
3. The toponymic program of the Romans in the Eastern Desert
226 The Romans have profoundly marked the Eastern Desert. They excavated the
mountains from where they extracted huge monoliths for monuments built by the
emperors. They appropriated space by equipping it with roads lined with fortlets in
order to make the desert passable for travellers, and to implant an effective
communication system, keeping the Beduins in check. Nevertheless, their toponyms
are simple, when compared with the warlike names that the pharaohs of the Middle
Kingdom gave their menenou (strongholds) in Nubia: “Who subjugates Setyou,” “Who
pushes Medjayou,” “Who secures foreign countries,” “Who kills the desert dwellers.”207
In Roman times, they relied more on the virtues of diplomacy than on the magical
performative of words.
227 Neither did the Romans target a symbolic appropriation of space by replacing the
existing names: they retained the old names, and even the dynastic Ptolemaic ones,
even local cults that deified Ptolemaic princesses.
228 Most of the names are Greek or Latin, but some belong to other languages:
- Kabalsi?, praesidium on the road to Berenike;
- Kompasi, praesidium on the road to Berenike, former gold mine dating back to the
Pharaonic era;
- Patkoua, praesidium, perhaps in Lower Nubia;
- Thonis Megale, praesidium, perhaps in Lower Nubia (Thonis is an Egyptian word);
- Raïma, praesidium on the road to Claudianus;
- Sabelbi, praesidium on the road to Porphyrites;
- Salaeis, a well close to Claudianus;
- Senskis, presumably a district of Smaragdos; 208
- Tamostymis (Egyptian), mine or quarry in the area of Wadi al-Hammamat / Wadi al-
Fawakhir.
229 One can add to this list the names of three metalla named after the material which was
extracted and whose names belong to the language of populations who traditionally
carried out the exploitation: Μαργαρίτηc is a loan-word, borrowed from Pahlavi
marvārīt, “pearl.” This word is attested for the first time in Greek by Theophrastus, who
was on the lookout for discoveries made by the explorers of Alexander the Great. But
the main pearl fisheries were in the Persian Gulf. Cμάραγδοc is an oriental word,
already known by Herodotus, that applies to different varieties of green stones.
Τοπάζιον / Βαζιον is the name of topaz and of St John’s Island where it was mined.
Among these three toponyms, it is the only one that could have local origins, if we
follow Pliny, who thinks that it is, according to Juba, a word borrowed from the
language of the Trogodytes (Nat. 37.109).209
128
230 Exotic names mentioned in the ostraca, some of which are Semitic, raise an insoluble
problem. It is not possible to decide if they belong to a Beduin substrate predating the
arrival of the Romans, who would have chosen to keep the names, or if they were
bestowed by Roman officers eastern origin. In favour of the former hypothesis, we
should look at the recurring microtoponym τὸ Cαπαρ, probably of Arabic origins, which
refers, in ostraca from Biʾr Samut (third century BC), to a small site without a well,
located in the vicinity of the Ptolemaic fort. Such toponyms probably betray the
intervention of Beduin guides in the exploration of the desert by the Romans.
231 The Romans were moderate in their use of imperial eponymy, which they reserved for
a few metalla and latomiai. Indeed, it was after a discovery phase of the physical
geography of the Eastern Desert that they bestowed imperial names. The first metalla
discovered were named after the material extracted from them, and the Romans gave
thanks in Greek to the local Egyptian deity (Min) for the discovery of minerals. Apart
from dynastic names, the toponyms they invented are apolitical, innocuous, and
sometimes even rather bland (cf. the series of Kaine / Kainon).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Editions of Greek, Latin, Demotic, and Coptic Papyri, Ostraca, and Tablets (http://papyri.info/
docs/checklist).
Brown V.M., Harrell J.A. 1995. “Topographical and Petrological Survey of Ancient
Roman Quarries in the Eastern Desert of Egypt”. In The Study of Marble and Other Stones
Used in Antiquity – ASMOSIA III. Y. Maniatis, N. Herz and Y. Bassiakis (eds.), Athens,
pp. 221-234.
Chantraine P. 1993. La formation des noms en grec ancien, Paris.
Cockle W.E.H. 1996. “An Inscribed Architectural Fragment from Middle Egypt
Concerning the Roman Imperial Quarries”. In Archaeological Research in Roman Egypt.
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Cuvigny H. (ed.), Brun J.-P., Bülow-Jacobsen A., Cardon D., Fournet J.-L., Leguilloux M.,
Matelly M.-A., Reddé M. 2003., La Route de Myos Hormos. L’armée romaine dans le désert
Oriental d’Égypte, Le Caire.
Cuvigny H. 2005. “L’organigramme du personnel d’une carrière impériale d’après un
ostracon du Mons Claudianus” Chiron 35, pp. 309-353.
Cuvigny H. 2014. “Le blé pour les juifs (O.KaLa. inv. 228)”. In Le Myrte et la rose. Mélanges
offerts à Françoise Dunand par ses élèves, collègues et amis. G. Tallet, Chr. Zivie-Coche (ed.),
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Desanges. 2008. “Commentaire à: Pline l’Ancien”. Histoire Naturelle. Livre VI, CUF.
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I.Pan: Bernand A. 1977. Pan du désert, Leiden.
129
I.Portes: Bernand A. 1984. Les Portes du désert, Paris.

Kayser Fr. 1993. “Nouveaux textes grecs du Ouadi Hammamat”. ZPE 98, pp. 118-124.
Klemm R. & Klemm D. 2013. Gold and Gold Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia.
Geoarchaeology of the Ancient Gold Mining Sites in the Egyptian and Sudanese Eastern Deserts,
Heidelberg.
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contrastive dans une base de données multilingue”. Le traitement lexicographique des
noms propres, numéro spécial de la revue en ligne CORELA (http://corela.edel.univ-
poitiers.fr/index.php?id=1167).
Loewe B. 1936. Griechische theophore Ortsnamen. Tübingen.
Maxfield V.A., Peacok D.P.S. 2001. The Roman Imperial Quarries. Survey and Excavation at
Mons Porphyrites 1994-1998. I. Topography and Quarries, London.
Meredith D. 1958. Tabula Imperii Romani. Map of the Roman Empire Based on the
International 1/1,000,000 Map of the World. Sheet N.G. 36. Coptos, Oxford.
Peacock D.P.S., Maxfield V.A. (eds.). 1997. Mons Claudianus 1987-1993. Survey and
Excavation, I. Topography & Quarries, Le Caire.
Redard G. 1949. Les noms grecs en -ΤΗΣ, -ΤΙΣ et principalement en -ΙΤΗΣ, -ΙΤΙΣ, étude
philologique et linguistique, Paris.
Sidebotham S.E. 2011. Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route, Berkeley.
Sidebotham S.E., Zitterkopf R.E., Riley J. A. 1991. “Survey of the Abû Sha’ar-Nile road”,
AJA 95, pp. 571-622.
of Egypt’s Eastern Desert, Cairo.
Schwyzer E. 1939. Griechische Grammatik I., München.
FOOTNOTES
1. This article has developed from a lecture presented on 13th April, 2013 as part of the
interdisciplinary EPHE project “Lieux d’Égypte ou la toponymie égyptienne des pharaons aux
Arabes” (2012-2014). I have been fortunate to benefit from a critical reading of my manuscript by
Herbert Verreth, whom I thank for helping me with his many comments, and spotting many
small blunders, omissions and inconsistencies; his judicious questions also helped me to clarify
my thinking and deepen my reflection on some points. Naim Vanthieghem was kind enough to
suggest to me a system that is both consistent and simple for the transcription of modern Arabic
place names. Unless otherwise noted, all photographs were taken by Adam Bülow-Jacobsen,
whom I also thank, as well as Mathilde Bru, for their help with the translation into English.
2. The ostraca are designated by a publication or an inventory number, preceded according to
the provenance, by the abbreviations O.Claud., O.KaLa., O.Krok., O.Max., O.Did. O.Dios, O.Xer., O.Porph.,
O.MyHor. I thank Wilfried Van Rengen for allowing me to quote ostraca belonging to the two last
corpora.
3. Excavations 2014-2016 funded by IFAO and MAE in the programme MAFDO now led by
Bérangère Redon and Thomas Faucher.
4. I use the reference system of the latest edition of the Geography, which Germaine Aujac kindly
drew to my attention: Klaudios Ptolemaios Handbuch der Geographie, Basel, 2006.
5. On the misinterpretations that were driven by the misunderstanding of mons and of the
suffixed form Berenicis, see § 193-195.
130
6. On this metallon, see Sidebotham S.E., Barnard H., Harrell J.A., Tomber R.S. 2001, “The Roman
Quarry and Installations in Wadi Umm Wikala and Wadi Semna.” JEA 87, pp. 135-170.
7. On both sites, see § 27.
8. These gold mining sites that often betray activity in the Ptolemaic period have never been
explored. They are conveniently catalogued and described by Klemm, Klemm 2013, in their
section entitled “Middle Central Group,” pp. 68-146. Nowadays, they are threatened by a project
of intensive mining exploitation which will concentrate on the so-called Gold Triangle, that is to
say the part of the Eastern Desert comprised between the Qena-Safaga road and the Quft-Qusayr
road.
9. I published them in O.Claud. III.
10. O.Claud. ΙΙΙ 528 and 587.
11. Cockle 1996.
12. Cuvigny H. 2002, “Vibius Alexander, praefectus et épistratège de l’Heptanomie.” CdE 77,
pp. 238-248.
13. O.Claud. IV 848 and 850.
14. O.Dios inv. 514.
15. List § 228.
16. O.Claud. inv. 6179.
17. O.Claud. IV 854, 3.
18. O.Claud. inv. 6366.
19. Commented on in the section Praesidia (§ 113-118).
20. Commented on in the section Praesidia (§ 115-117).
21. I.Pan 39: Annius Rufus (centurio) leg(ionis) XV Apollinaris praepositus ab Optimo Imp(eratore)
Traiano operi marmorum monte Claudiano (…).
22. This casual error is not rectified in the apparatus criticus of the edition.
23. Cuvigny H. 2014, “Le système routier du désert Oriental égyptien sous le Haut-Empire à la
lumière des ostraca trouvés en fouille”. In La statio. Archéologie d’un lieu de pouvoir dans l’Empire
romain, J. France, J. Nelis-Clément (ed.), Bordeaux, p. 254.
24. O.Claud. inv. 8094: letter from κουράτορ πρεϲιδ < ί > ω Κλαυδιανῶ (sic), where the writing
betrays a Latin speaker; and O.Claud. II 372, letter of Aelius Serenus, who refers to himself as
κουράτωρ πραιϲιδίου Κλαυδιανοῦ while in his letter O.Claud. II 371, which is in another hand, he
is κουράτωρ Κλαυδιανοῦ μετάλλου.
25. Cockle 1996.
26. Πορφυρίτηϲ Ὄροϲ (Redard 1949, p. 149).
27. The particular case of the “solid composition” Μύϲορμοϲ is not taken into account. It
confirms a fact of popular pronunciation which removes the o of Μυόϲ.
28. The emerald mines are called ϲμαράγδεια μέταλλα in Heliodoros, Aethiopica 10.11.1.
29. P. Flotté (Carte Archéologique de la Gaule 57/2. Metz, Paris 2005, p. 285) is hesitant about the
reconstruction of l]agonam, probably because epigraphic references to lagona (pitcher) are always
graffiti on an object. Why couldn’t it be, however, the effigy in porphyry of a lagona?
30. It belongs to a group of masculine and feminine nouns formed on a nominal base, and
characterized by the suffix - ίτηϲ for masculine, - ῖτιϲ, for feminine. These denominational
derivatives, that have proliferated from the Hellenistic period, are frequently trade-names, terms
of botany, zoology, geology and geography. Just think of the names of the Egyptian nomes: ὁ
Ὀξυρυγχίτηϲ νομόϲ. The classic book about them is Redard 1949.
31. In principle, it should be derived from a base ὀφια. But cf. Chantraine 1933, p. 311: “The
suffix [sc. -αταϲ -ητηϲ -ατηϲ] was sometimes extended to derivatives, although no base in long α
was independently attested: πολιήτηϲ, “citizen”, is the normal derivative of πόλιϲ in dialects
other than Ionian-Attic, cf. πολιάοχοϲ.” The form ὀφιῆτιϲ is attested.
131
32. Dittenberger had previously proposed this idea (OGIS II 660, note 4). The toponymic use of
the name of the material probably comes from a Greek usage: Pliny (Nat. 37.73.3) mentions an
emerald deposit in Chalcedon, called Smaragdites (ὁ ϲμαραγδίτηϲ e a duplicate of ἡ ϲμάραγδοϲ):
mons est iuxta Calchedonem, in quo legebantur, Smaragdites vocatus.
33. This was already the name of this metallon in the 3 rd century BCE, according to an ostracon
from Biʾr Samut, which reads ἐ]π̣ὶ̣ τὴν Μάραγδον (O.Sam. inv. 303).
34. On this deserted island off Berenike, today Jazirat Zabarjad, see J.-L. Fournet’s contribution
in these proceedings.
35. OGI II 660, note 6.
36. Ranson G. 1961, Les espèces d’huîtres perlières du genre Pinctada (biologie de quelques-unes d’entre
elles), Mémoires de l’institut royal des sciences naturelles de Belgique 67/2, pp. 11-12. On the
distribution of pearl oysters in the Red Sea, see Donkin R.A. 1998, Beyond Price. Pearls and Pearl-
Fishing, pp. 29-36.
37. Probably in the anthropological sense of Beduins, which the word also has in Greek, but not
in the ethnic sense.
38. Has exploitation by the people of the desert ever stopped in between? The presence of the
Roman army in the first and second centuries in the emerald mines is attested by the discovery
of elements of lorica squamata (Sidebotham, et al. 2008, p. 299). Have the Romans, when they took
over the emerald mines, employed a Beduin task-force? Unfortunately, no ostracological
discovery gives us clues about the composition of the workforce or the administrative
framework. Local architecture is also a difficult issue: no fortified square building, but a
multitude of small huts and several imposing official buildings. S.E. Sidebotham hypothesized
that the large praesidium of Apollonos Hydreuma could house the garrison that controlled the
exploitation of emerald mines (Sidebotham, et al. 2008, p. 301); but it is at a distance of 20 km
from the village of Sikayt, a central inhabited area of one of the mining districts of Smaragdos,
which consists of several. The modern name of Sikayt was suggested by Letronne from the
epithet of Isis read by 19th century travellers on a rock inscription of the site, now destroyed
(I.Pan 69). The best facsimiles, those of Nestor Lhôte and of Wilkinson are, respectively
παρατηκυρι ̣ιϲκαιτηϲενεκειτ ̣νει et παρατηκυρι ̣ιϲιδιτηϲενϲκειτηϲ ̣ ̣. The conjecture παρὰ τῇ
κυρίᾳ Ἴϲιδι is reasonably safe; from the epiclesis which comes next, modern scholars deduced
the toponym Cενϲκιϲ, which would be the name of one of the exploitation areas of Smaragdos.
39. In the Erythrean area, the largest concentrations of Pinctada radiata are in Bahrain and
Ceylon.
40. PEM 35: ἐκδέχεται μετ’ οὐ πολὺ τὸ ϲτόμα τῆϲ Περϲικῆϲ καὶ πλεῖϲται κολυμβήϲειϲ εἰϲὶν τοῦ
πινικίου κόγχου.
41. Hamilton-Dyer S.H. 2006, “Faunal Remains.” In Myos Hormos–Quseir al-Qadim, Roman and
Islamic Ports on the Red Sea. II. Finds from the Excavations 1999-2003, D. Peacock, L. Blue (eds.), Oxford,
p. 273.
42. Especially when you know that an average of 500 oysters have to be sacrificed to get a few
pearls (Strack J.E. 2008, “Introduction.” In The Pearl Oyster. Southgate P.C. and Lucas J.S.,
Amsterdam, p. 13). In the Red Sea, we find such shell dumps on the islands of Dahlak and Farasan,
at a more southern latitude (Sharabati D. 1981, Saudi Arabian Seashells: Selected Red Sea and Arabian
Gulf Molluscs, VNU, p. 53). We know that there was, under Antoninus Pius, a Roman garrison at
Farasan, but the oyster deposits there are not ancient.
43. The two scenarios are possible: Schörle K. 2015, “Pearls, Power and Profit, Mercantile
Networks and Economic Considerations of the Pearl Trade in the Roman Empire.” In Across the
Ocean: Nine Essays on Indo-Mediterranean Trade, F. De Romanis, M. Maiuro (ed.), Leiden, p. 48 sq.
44. Schörle o.l., p. 48.
45. Schneider P. 2016, “Did Rome Engage in Pearling in the Red Sea? A Re-examination of the
Two Dedications by Publius Iuventius Agathopus.” ZPE 198, pp. 121-137. Unlike P. Schneider, I
132
have no problem admitting that the ancients were able to classify the pearl fisheries in the
category μέταλλον because pearls are often likened by the authors to stones (λίθοι).
46. Aelian gives the impression that it is a product derived from crystal. For other hypotheses
about the nature of this terrestrial Indian pearl, see RE XIV 1700 (which favours the hypothesis
that it must be bamboo resin tears).
47. The Roman Imperial Porphyry Quarries, Gebel Dokhân, Egypt, Interim Report 1998, p. 26
(unpublished). Βατραχίτηϲ is the only name of a latomia found in the O.Porph.
48. Batrachitas quoque Coptos mittit (Nat. 37.149). But in this passage, Pliny mentions gems, not an
architectural material. Quoque is in reference to another gem exported by Koptos and that Pliny
names the balanites: Balanitae duo genera sunt, subviridis et Corinthii aeris similitudine, illa a Copto, haec
ab Trogodytica ueniens, media secante flammea uena, “As to the ‘balanites’, or ‘acorn-stone’, there
are two varieties, of which one is greenish and the other like Corinthian bronze in its colour. The
former comes from Coptos and the latter from the Cave-dwellers’ country, and both are
intersected through the middle by a bright red layer” (trans. D.E. Eichholz, Loeb). The description
of Pliny, except for the fire-coloured vein, perfectly matches the greywacke of Wadi al-
Hammamat, probably exported through Koptos, whose tones range from dark green to dark grey
and, once polished, has a bronze patina. The “balanites” might be a ghost-word and a ghost-rock.
Pliny knows greywacke under its correct name basanites: quem (lapidem) vocant basaniten, ferrei
coloris atque duritiae (Nat. 36.58. This comparison with the colour of iron, not bronze, is less
felicitous). Also Nat. 36.147.
49. Edictum Diocletiani de pretiis rerum venalium 33, 6 (Lauffer); 31, 6 (ZPE 34, 1979, p. 163-210).
50. Gnoli 1971, p. 133 called diorite extracted at Umm Balad granito verde fiorite di bigio; it appears
in the Palatine palace: Gnoli highlights particularly the slabs of the pavement in the triclinium of
the Domus Flavia and adds that this material was used to make floor or wall slabs and small
objects such as columnettes.
51. The fragmentary dedication of the fort has an erased line where the name of the praefectus
Aegypti would be expected: it must thus be Mettius Rufus, prefect between AD 89 and 92.
Furthermore, the oldest dated ostracon is from AD 91.
52. I do not take into account isolated mining, as on the walled rock of Badiya or near the
praesidium of Qattar, which are mere exploratory tests (Brown, Harrell 1995, p. 224).
53. 27° 9’ 11.71” N / 33° 17’ 0.24” E.
54. Coordinates according to Brown, Harrell 1995, p. 224.
55. http://www.eeescience.utoledo.edu/faculty/harrell/egypt/Quarries/Hardst_Quar.html.
56. I went there with A. Bülow-Jacobsen in January 2004.
57. Bagnall R.S., Harrell J.A. 2003, “Knekites.” CdE 78, pp. 229-235.
58. Gnoli 1971, p. 113. While Bagnall and Harrell perceive the colour of this material as pale, for
Gnoli, who calls it porfido serpentino nero, it is a dark rock.
59. 26° 56’ 30" N / 33° 14’ 39" E. On the diorite from Umm Shejilat, cf. Gnoli 1971, p. 126; Brown,
Harrell 1995, p. 224. It is called granito della colonna, the most famous object made in this material
being a small column (actually a baluster) brought from the Holy Land in the thirteenth century
by Cardinal Giovanni Colonna; assumed to be the column of the scourging of Jesus, it is kept in
the church of St. Praxedes in Rome (one easily finds a picture on the web by searching Colonna
della flagellazione). The discoverer of this quarry, an Egyptian engineer, reports a Roman well at
Umm Shejilat (Gnoli 1971, p. 126, n. 2).
60. http://www.eeescience.utoledo.edu/faculty/harrell/egypt/Quarries/Hardst_Quar.html.
61. The fact that Germanike Latomia was a delivery address for a camel driver delivering
supplies indicates that the feature to which this place name refers is a metallon, not a latomia in
its usual meaning of a specific quarry-site.
62. In the ostraca from Umm Balad, we have five occurrences of the spelling Ἀλαβ - and four of
Ἀραβ -.
133
63. On the alabarchai, tax farmers who were sometimes fabulously rich, see Burkhalter F. 1999,
“Les fermiers de l’arabarchie : notables et hommes d’affaires à Alexandrie.” In Alexandrie : une
mégapole cosmopolite (Cahiers de la Villa Kérylos 9), Paris, pp. 41-54 and Kramer J. 2011, “ἀραβάρχηϲ,
ἀλαβάρχηϲ/arabarches, alabarcha,” in id., Von der Papyrologie zur Romanistik ( APF Beiheft 30),
Berlin - New York, pp. 175-184.
64. J. Gascou, pers. comm., suggests that Arabarches falls into the category of auspicious
anthroponyms, rich arabarches being proverbial.
65. In eight cases, six without the article (among which three examples of the phrase εἰϲ
Ἀλαβάρχην) and two with (including P.Worp 20).
66. § 30.
67. List of quarries: Peacock, Maxfield 1992, pp. 178-189. The numbers are shown on the plan
published in O.Claud. IV, p. 10.
68. Organizational chart belonging to the same series as the document I published in Cuvigny
2005.
69. § 105.
70. Peacock, Maxfield 1992, p. 225.
71. I.Pan 45 = SEG XLVII 2122 (4), where the unfortunate resolution Ἀπολ(λώνιοϲ) is corrected.
72. I.Pan 40, cf. O.Claud. I, p. 48; Peacock, Maxfield 1997, pp. 189 and 221.
73. As the beginning of line 31, which should be in double straight brackets: ⟦ν ̅ ι β̣ ⟧̣ .
74. BIFAO 1993, p. 64 sq. = SEG XLIII 1121.
75. Cuvigny H. 1992, “Inscription inédite d’un ἐργοδότηϲ dans une carrière du Mons
Claudianus.” Itinéraires d’Égypte. Mélanges offerts au Père Maurice Martin, Cairo, pp. 73-88 (= SEG XLII
1576).
76. Swinnen W. 1968, "Philammon, chantre légendaire, et les noms gréco-égyptiens en –
ammôn." Antidorum W. Peremans, Studia Hellenistica 16, pp. 237-262, sp. 260.
77. Les conditions de pénétration et de diffusion des cultes égyptiens en Italie, Leiden 1972, p. 44, n. 4 et
p. 442.
78. SB XIV 11342, 6; SB XXVI 16726, 2.
79. IK XI1, 33, 4-5.
80. Rehm A. 1958, Didyma, II. Die Inschriften, Berlin, No. 502.
81. I thank Marie-Pierre Chaufray, Willy Clarysse and Françoise Dunand for helping me unravel
this tangled question.
82. I thank Claire Le Feuvre and Sophie Minon for providing this citation.
83. On the distinction between memorial and anecdotal toponyms, see Dorion, Poirier, 1975, s.v.
"anecdotique."
84. O.Claud. IV 850, 853, 857.
85. Except in the Anonymous of Ravenna (Caenopoli).
86. Mayser, Grammatik II.2.1, p. 14.
87. Mayser, Grammatik II.2.1, p. 17 sq.
88. In this they follow the recommendations of the Second United Nations Conference on the
Standardization of Geographical Names (see Dorion, Poirier 1975, p. 55).
89. Cuvigny 2005.
90. O.Claud. IV 841, introduction.
91. Lines 19 and 111.
92. Cf. § 104.
93. John Rea observed that a reading Παγκουα is not excluded.
94. But probably not the Prefect of Berenike, who seems to be at this time Arruntius Agrippinus
(O.Krok. I, p. 137 ff.).
95. It is only after seeing the graffito, after a month of excavation, that I made the connection
between the shape of the rock and the curious name of the praesidium.
134
96. J. Gascou, JJP 24, p. 14 n. 4 ; J.-L. Fournet, REG 105, 1992, p. 236 ; J.-L. Fournet, “Coptos gréco-
romaine à travers ses noms.” In Autour de Coptos (Topoi Supplément 3), 2002, p. 52 sq.
97. Chantraine 1933, p. 116.
98. Cuvigny (ed.) 2003, I, p. 55; II, p. 281 sq.; p. 383.
99. H.-J. Thissen sees in this toponym the Egyptian name for galena (“Demotische Graffiti aus
dem Wâdi al-Hammâmât.” Enchoria 9, 1979, p. 63-92, ad 88).
100. Reinach A.J. 1910, Rapports sur les fouilles de Koptos (janvier-février 1910), Paris, p. 43.
101. Guéraud O. 1942, “Ostraca grecs et latins de l’Wâdi Fawâkhir.” BIFAO 41, pp. 141-196, n° 14
(= SB VI 9017). Cf. Cuvigny (ed.) 2003, I, p. 196.
102. This does not necessarily mean that the soldiers were still stationed in the village: the
proskynemata may have been left by travellers. Ostraca found in the village indicate the presence
of a mixed population of quarry workers and soldiers, but none are dated (Kayser 1993,
No. 20-60= SB XXII 15660-15700).
103. I owe this remark to Herbert Verreth.
104. In theory, it could also be the genitive of Cίμιοϲ, name of a Syrian god (Route I, p. 56).
105. Brun 2004, p. 135.
106. Brun 2004, p. 133.
107. O.Did. 54, c. AD 96.
108. O.Did. 458; O.Dios inv. 264.
109. The phrase “Berenike of the Trogodytes” (French Bérénice des Trogodytes) has been made up
after Pliny, Nat. 2.183, Berenice urbe Trogodytarum, which is not a complex toponym, urbe
Trogodytarum being only an explicative gloss in apposition.
110. ILS 2483= I.Portes 56.
111. http://www.trismegistos.org/nam/detail.php?record=1427.
112. For the gold mines at Daghbagh see Klemm, Klemm 2013, pp. 161-168 (the authors interpret
the mills as ore washeries); however, cf. B. Redon, “Samut North: ‘heavy mineral processing
plants’ are mills.” Egyptian Archaeology 48, 2016, pp. 20-22.
113. O.Dios inv. 922.
114. Ο.Dios inv. 53. According to Mayser, Grammatik ΙΙ .1, 8, neuter plural article τά used before a
personal name means “the house of, the property of.” But the formula can also designate the
offices of an official (εἰϲ τὰ τοῦ βαϲιλικοῦ γραμμάτεωϲ) or, in the Byzantine period, a religious
building, a monastery: τὰ τοῦ ἁγίου ἄπα Φοιβάμμωνοϲ.
115. Cf. § 206.
116. For the Early Roman Empire, it is mainly in Latin that I found poetic reminiscences, e.g.
Ovid. Met. 2.235: mare contrahitur siccaeque est campus harenae /quod modo pontus erat. Manilius,
Astronomica 5.688: congeritur siccum pelagus. Lines 448-449 of book 5 of Oracles Sibyllins, antipagan
poem probably composed in Alexandria by a Jew between 80 and 130, use the same image: ἔϲται
δ’ ὑϲτατίῳ καιρῷ ξηρόϲ ποτε πόντοϲ, / κοὐκέτι πλωτεύϲουϲιν ἐϲ Ἰταλίην τότε νῆεϲ. Other
poetic examples can be found in Greek, but in the Byzantine period.
117. Bülow-Jacobsen A. 2013, “Communication, Travel, and Transportation in Egypt’s Eastern
Desert during Roman Times (1st to 3rd century AD).” in Desert Road Archaeology in Ancient Egypt and
Beyond, Fr. Förster, H. Riemer (eds.), Köln, p. 561, n. 3.
118. Ostraca of Xeron: 7 occ. of Ξηρὸν Πέλαγοϲ, 8 of Ξηρόν. Ostraca of Dios: 1 occ. of Ξηρὸν
Πέλαγοϲ, 10 of Ξηρόν.
119. A prosopographic overlap allows the date of 216-219. Phalakron was abandoned in the early
third century, before the time characterized in Didymoi, Dios and Xeron by rubbish deposits
inside the fort, and by the uncontrolled proliferation of loculi.
120. O.Xer. inv. 257 (post register); O.Xer. inv. 956, 5 (soldier’s letter).
121. O.Dios inv. 818 (list of praesidia from Apollonos to Phoinikon); O.Xer. inv. 488.
135
122. Sidebotham 2011, p. 161.

123. mox ad Novum Hydreuma (Nat. 6.102).
124. Meredith D. 1953, “The Roman remains in the Eastern Desert of Egypt (continued),” JEA 39,
pp. 100-101.
125. Sidebotham 2011, pp. 130, 149, 163.
126. Sidebotham 2011, p. 97. Plan of this hafir: Sidebotham S.E., Zitterkopf R.E. 1995, “Routes
through the Eastern Desert of Egypt.” Expedition 37/2, p. 44, Fig. 6.
127. In Sidebotham S.E., Gates-Foster J., Rivard J.-L. (eds.) 2018 (forthcoming), The Archaeological
Survey of the Desert Roads between Berenike and the Nile Valley: Expeditions by the University of Michigan
and the University of Delaware to the Eastern Desert of Egypt, 1987-2015, Boston.
128. So Meredith, JEA 38, 1953, p. 100. John Ball, in a confused note, considers that Pliny reverses
the names of the two last stages of the road and erroneously calls Novum Hydreuma “Vetus
Hydreuma” (J. Ball, Egypt in the Classical Geographers, Cairo 1942, p. 83). But then where would be,
according to Ball, the true Vetus Hydreuma?
129. O.Claud. inv. 8828, found in the “Hydreuma”: εἰϲ Ῥα[ιμα].
130. O. Claud. inv. 2238. A shaduf in a desert way station, see Fig. 13.8 in Sidebotham et al. 2008,
p. 320 (reconstruction of the way station of Wadi Wadi Abu Shuwayhat, also called Talaʿt al-
Zarqaʾ, on the road to Claudianus).
131. Sidebotham S.E. 2011, Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route, UCP, pp. 119-120.
132. Klemm, Klemm 2013, pp. 70-74.
133. I thank Rosemarie Klemm for kindly providing me with the original photo.
134. The editor, Jean Bingen, still doubts whether it is Raïma, because the author of the letter
also acknowledges receipt of a water amphora: why indeed send water to Raïma? But it is
undoubtedly special water. This is certainly not an amphora with water to water the vegetables.
135. τὸ ϲφυρίδιν ἃ (l. ὃ) ἔπεμψεϲ ἡμῖν ὑπὸ τῶν χεϲμάτων.
136. The papyrological occurrences of ῥάκοϲ et de ῥακάδιον are gathered together and
discussed by R. Mascellari, Lex.Pap.Mat. III, 2 (Comunicazioni dell’Istituto Papirologico Vitelli 12, 2016),
pp. 151-159.
137. In the Eastern Desert, it is the rock hyrax, Procavia capensis, not the bush hyrax Heterohyrax
brucei (Yves Lignereux, email 17/07/2016). This small mammal is the size of a rabbit and it is hard
to imagine that its droppings were used to fertilise a vegetable garden.
138. Gignac F.R. 1981, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods, II,
Morphology, Milan, p. 66 sq. Robert Daniel, whom I consulted about this remark and would like to
thank, cautioned me that Gignac cites only χείλεα in PGM 4401, which is actually the only
example, and that it is interpreted as a poetic reminiscence: in prose passages of magical papyri,
we have the regular form χείλη.
139. Τὸ ϲκάτοϲ· καὶ τοῦτο ἐπ’ εὐθείαϲ τιθέμενον ἀμαθέϲ· γενικῆϲ γάρ ἐϲτι πτώϲεωϲ, τοῦ
ϲκατόϲ, ἡ δὲ εὐθεῖα τὸ ϲκώρ. ἁμαρτάνοντεϲ δὲ οἱ πολλοὶ τὴν μὲν ὀρθὴν τὸ ϲκάτοϲ ποιοῦϲιν,
τὴν δὲ γενικὴν ϲὺν τῷ υ τοῦ ϲκάτουϲ (Eclogae 260).
140. While the use of goat, sheep, horse, cattle, camel, dog and cat dung is constantly attested by
the authors and in medical texts, Pliny is the only source mentioning pig excrement that is
reported by Durling R.J. 1999, “Excreta as a remedy in Galen.” In Tradition and Traduction.
Hommage à Fernand Bossier, R. Beyers et al., Leuven, p. 28. After describing the different ways of
preparing wild boar droppings for medication, Pliny (28.138) simply adds that pig manure has
properties similar to those of wild boar manure, which gives the impression that it might serve
as a substitute (proximam suillo fimo putant vim). Boar dung which, unlike that of pigs, is frequently
cited in the medical literature, was, according to Pliny, used against bruises and injuries due to
falls, so that charioteers would commonly use it. For this reason, Nero would put on a show of
consuming it.
141. O.Claud. inv. 7038 mentions a curator of Kampe.
136
142. Gendron St. 2006, La toponymie des voies romaines et médiévales. Les mots des routes anciennes,
Paris, p. 42 sq.
143. O. Claud. inv. 8851, 8875, 8890, 8908, 8923.
144. Sidebotham, et al. 1991, p. 582 sq. (with plan).
145. Maxfield, Peacock 2001, pp. 215-237. Well: p. 236 sq.
146. Maxfield, Peacock 2001, pp. 200-202.
147. Photo in Maxfield, Peacock 2001, Fig. 5.13 p. 201.
148. A. Bülow-Jacobsen, per os.
149. My two informants, to whom I could only show the photo cited n. 147, are of different
opinions. L. Nehmé thinks that camels could use that mule track, "provided the path is wide
enough, as the photo suggests. There are trails of this type around Petra, on plots of caravan
routes" (email of 28th June 2016). But Carlo Bergmann, who travelled across the Sudanese and
Egyptian deserts with small groups of camels, is less certain: "Such trails are not really suitable
for camels. Firstly, the trails seem to be quite narrow. Camels walk in amble and would be afraid
to follow such lanes, especially if these (like the one in the middle) are running almost parallel to
a quite steep slope and if the beasts carry heavy loads. Secondly, the trail in the centre seems to
pass over very rough gravel which fills the front of the picture. Anyone caring for his camels
would have cleared from the track at least a few of the roughest stones. (...) The hoofs of donkeys
would not require such clearance" (email of 18th September 2016).
150. Sidebotham et al. 1991, p. 577 sq. (with plan); Maxfield V.A. 1996, “The Eastern Desert Forts
and the Army in Egypt during the Principate.” In Archaeological Research in Roman Egypt,
D.M. Bailey (ed.), JRA Suppl. 19, pp. 17-19.
151. Sidebotham et al. 1991, p. 577.
154. This is precisely the number of ostraca mentioning these names.
155. O.KaLa. inv. 483.
156. = p. 695 in Müller’s edition.
157. Called by Ptolemy ἡ ὀρεινὴ ῥάχιϲ τοῦ βαϲανίτου λίθου ὄρουϲ . On this passage of Ptolemy,
see § 22-23. Remarkably, Mons Claudianus is not in this list (and does not appear at all in the
Geography).
158. Cf. also Marcianus, Periplus maris exteri, 1.13.15: ἐν δὲ τῷ τέλει τοῦ κόλπου κεῖται τὸ
μέγιϲτον ἀκρωτήριον, ὃ καλεῖται Πράϲον ἄκρον.
159. "The Ostraca from Umm Balad," PapCongr. XXVIII (forthcoming).
160. Masson O. 1976, "Grecs et Libyens en Cyrénaïque d’après les témoignages de l’épigraphie."
Ant. Afr. 10, p. 60.
161. O.KaLa. inv. 549.
162. O.KaLa. inv. 783; 785; 811. The last two letters are written by Turranius, who we have reason
to believe is curator of Prasou.
163. On the Turranius’ letters, see Cuvigny 2014.
164. See the section, s.v. Ἀκάνθιον, Ἄκανθα, "L’Acacia".
165. Five occurrences without the article, and three with it.
166. I owe this explanation to the perspicacity of Jean-Louis Perpillou.
167. Peacock, Maxfield 1997, pp. 151-154.
168. Bingen J., Jensen S.O. 1992, "Mons Claudianus. Rapport préliminaire sur les cinquième et
sixième campagnes de fouille (1991-1992)." BIFAO 92, sp. p. 16.
169. O.Claud. inv. 1538, 6, published in Cuvigny 2005. The reading ] Δ ι̣ ο ϲ
̣ κ
̣ (ορίοιϲ) in
O.Claud. IV 695, 3 seems doubtful given the infrared photo.
170. O.Claud. inv. 1287, 1288, 1306, 1378, 1530, 1801, 3322.
171. In the case of the minor road to Akanthion, this reference point is Claudianus.
137
172. Valat D. 2008, "Interférences onomastiques et péri-onomastiques dans les Res Gestae
d’Auguste." In Bilinguisme gréco-latin et épigraphie, Fr. Biville, J.-Cl. Decourt, G. Rougemont (eds.),
Lyon, p. 249. That criterion allows a more precise date for I.Mylasa 214 (=IK 35), for which the
editor does not offer a date and which McCabe, in the Searchable Greek Inscriptions, dated second
to first century BC: in line 12 there is a mention of a Τροβαλιϲϲικὴ ὁδόϲ. The use of the adjective
suggests that this inscription is in any case later than the Roman takeover of Caria that occurred
at the end of the Republic. Another indication of the Roman influence is provided in line 1 by the
toponym Ὀμβιανὸν πέδιον, the proprial adjective being provided with a Latin suffix.
173. P.Oxy. XLV 3243, 14.
174. Below are the last lines of the inscription: per eosdem qui supra scripti sunt, lacci aedificati et
dedicati sunt: Apollonos Hỵdreuma VII K(alendas) Ianuarias, Compasi K(alendis) Augustis, Berenicide XVIII
K(alendas) Ianuar(ias), Myos Hormi Id[ib]us Ianuar(iis) castram aedificaverunt et refecerunt.
175. In the case of these two Latin poets, the use of the suffixed form is explained perhaps only
by the needs of the metre.
176. Chantraine 1933, p. 339. None of the examples cited by Chantraine is derived from a town
or village name. The RE correctly points out that Berenicis in the two Latin poems is the city itself,
not its surroundings (s.v. Berenike, col. 282 [8]).
177. De Romanis F. 1996, Cassia, Cinnamomo, Ossidiana, Roma, p.175, n. 23. This interpretation is
further vitiated by interpreting laccus as “well” instead of tank.
178. It’s the same for Ἀρϲινόη/Ἀρϲινοίϲ, Κλεοπάτρα/Κλεοπατρίϲ, Φιλωτέρα/Φιλωτερίϲ (for the
latter name, see § 201-203).
179. Message from 15 April 2013.
180. When one thinks about it, the Greek and Latin did not have a noun to refer to this
geographical feature, other than ἐρημία, solitudo, which are perhaps too suggestive.
181. Klaudios Ptolemaios, Handbuch der Geographie, A. Stückelberger, G. Grasshoff [eds.], I, Basel
2006, p. 425, n. 123. H. Verreth (pers. comm.) observes that this confusion must go back to the
Barrington Atlas 2000, pl. 80, F4 (Berenicidis Mons= Smaragdos Oros). This edition of the
Geography also wrongly distinguishes between Berenike in 4.5.15 and Berenike Trogodytika (with
reference to Calderini, Diz. Geogr. II.40 and K. Sethe, Berenike [5] in RE 3.1 [1897], 280 ss.).
182. I.Pan 86. The parallel expression τὸ κατὰ Ϲυήνην ὄροϲ attested in OGIS 168, 11 and 14=
I.ThSy. 244, 40 and 54 (AD 115 ) does not designate a vast desert region such as the desert of
Koptos or Berenike, but only the quarry area of Syene; it is a descriptive gloss rather than a
toponym and, if we consider it as a toponym, it could be the name of a metallon.
183. Today Qusayr al-Qadim.
184. 7 occ. of Μυὸϲ Ὅρμοϲ vs 19 of Μύϲορμοϲ/Μυϲορμιτική. Some manuscripts of the
Geography of Ptolemy present the reading Μιϲηρμοϲ, Μιϲορμοϲ.
185. The late David Peacock liked this idea and wrote back: "I think your suggestion is a good
one. The entrance is narrow and divers have seen a reef in the middle. Compared with the other
Red Sea ports it must have been a pain to get into –and there is the wreck at the mouth as proof!"
(Email of 27th November 2010).
186. Artemidorus ap. Strabon 16.4.5.
187. On this passage of Pomponius Mela, see Cohen G.M. 2006, The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria,
The Red Sea Basin, and North Africa, UCP, p. 312.
188. Mox oppidum parvum est Aenum – alii pro hoc Philoterias scribunt. But Philoterias (H. Verreth
pointed out to me that it must be an accusative plural) is a conjecture by Mayhoff: all
manuscripts give the final –ria or – rias, while the beginning of the name is more or less
corrupted. On Philotera see the comments of J. Desanges in his edition of Book VI of Pliny (CUF
2008), p. 53.
189. Prickett M. 1979. In Quseir al-Qadim 1978. Preliminary Report, D.S. Whitcomb, J.H. Johnson,
Cairo, p. 271. Biʾr Qarim: 25° 55’ 53” N/34° 03’ 27” E.
138
190. A. Bülow-Jacobsen, in Cuvigny 2003, I, p. 56.

191. O.Max. inv. 1149. We read line 7: ἀλλὰ ἐν τῷ Φιλωτε[ρίῳ].
192. I make my argument using the map of Meredith, having never been to Biʾr Karim myself.
193. Whitcomb D.S., Johnson J.H. 1982, Quseir al-Qadim 1980. Preliminary Report, Malibu, p. 292.
194. See Van Rengen’s article in these proceedings, § 16. The site of Biʾr (Wadi) Karim is
described, with a good satellite image, in Klemm, Klemm 2013, pp. 148-151.
195. Email 20th March 2017. Non vidimus.
196. Sidebotham S.E. 1996, “Newly discovered sites in the Eastern Desert.” JEA 82, pp. 190-192
and pl. XIX. A. Bülow-Jacobsen and I have vainly sought this inscription Friday, January 25th,
2011.
197. See O.Did. 44 and the letter of Nemesous O.Did. 400, which shows that even a procuress
referred to this unit of measure.
198. I.Pan 51 (AD 11), ILS 2698 (Tiberius), I.Pan 68 (AD 76/77), I.Memnon 14 (s.d.).
199. See § 104.
200. No more than ϲταθμόϲ in the Ptolemaic era: this is the noun which refers to desert way
stations in the ostraca from Biʾr Samut, which, in the third century BC, is one of these ϲταθμοί on
the road from Edfu to Berenike. The only appellative used then as a generic element in a complex
toponym is ῞Υδρευμα.
201. ἀπὸ Μέλανοϲ Ὄρουϲ πραιϲιδίου (O.KaLa. inv. 637); κουράτωρ Κλαυδιανοῦ μετάλλου
(O.Claud. II 371).
202. SB XXVIII 17096, 5-6.
203. But by exception (see above) the ellipse may affect the generic in the phrase ἔπαρχοϲ
Βερενίκηϲ.
204. Mayser, Grammatik II.2.1, p. 14.
205. Grammatik II.2.1, pp. 13-18.
206. Ἐν τῷ Κλαυδιανῷ: O.Claud. inv. 7294; 7484; P.Claud. inv. 32; mentions of the Τύχη τοῦ
Κλαυδιανοῦ.
207. Somaglino Cl. 2017, “La toponymie égyptienne en territoire conquis: les noms-programmes
des menenou.” In Du Sinaï au Soudan. Mélanges offerts à Dominique Valbelle, N. Favry et al. (eds.),
Paris, pp. 231-244. The antecedent of “who” is more likely the Pharaoh than the fortress itself.
208. See supra, n. 38.
209. J. Desanges doubts this interpretation and believes Pliny misunderstood its source, and that
Juba had only written that the island takes its name from the Greek verb τοπάζειν (Desanges
2008, p. 62).
AUTHOR
Hélène Cuvigny
CNRS / IRHT
139
Chronology of the Forts of the

Routes to Myos Hormos and
Berenike during the Graeco-Roman
Period
Jean-Pierre Brun
1 This article aims to clarify the chronology of the forts situated along the caravan routes
that linked Myos Hormos and Berenike on the Red Sea to Coptos on the Nile.
Observations made here are based on the results of excavations carried out by the
Mission française du Désert Oriental1 and on the research of American and British
teams at Myos Hormos,2 Berenike3 and Wâdi Umm Fawâkhir.4
2 When the Romans took over Egypt, they inherited a Ptolemaic system and
infrastructure and before them from prehistoric times and from the Pharaonic period
when, as Laure Pantalacci writes,5 Coptos was already the actual gateway to the
resources of the desert and to traffic bearing products from eastern lands.
3 Among the most important activities in the Eastern Desert were gold mining in various
locations including Wâdi Umm Fawâkhir or Samût al-Beda, galena extraction in the
Jabal al-Zayt,6 copper metallurgy at Aïn Sukhna,7 and the bekhen stone quarrying in the
Wâdi al-Hammâmât.8 During the Old and Middle Kingdom periods expeditions to Punt
crossed the desert to reach ports near Aïn Sukhna, Wâdi Gawasis (ancient Saww), and,
likely, at the location where Berenike was later built.
4 All these expeditions greatly improved knowledge of the desert that led to the creation
of texts and even maps and to the construction of routes marked by stone cairns. These
expeditions also dedicated rock sanctuaries to the god Min and marked the territory
with commemorative inscriptions such as those of the well known expeditions to the
Wâdi al-Hammâmât quarries.
140
Under the Ptolemies

5 Therefore, when the Macedonians seized Egypt, the desert was not terra incognita, but
the Ptolemaic government had greater ambitions and other needs than those of
previous rulers. Ptolemy Sôter and his successors had an imperious necessity to
accumulate gold for their ambitious foreign policy in the eastern Mediterranean and
the need, under Ptolemy II, III and IV, to capture war elephants by organizing hunts in
eastern Africa. These two necessities caused the resumption of intensive gold mining
from Ptolemy I9 and the concomitant creation of routes to reach the mines and to link
the ports of Berenike and Nechesia to the city of Apollônos Polis (Fig. 1). It was by this
relatively short route that war elephants disembarked at Berenice were conducted to
the Nile at Apollônos Polis. A graffito of an elephant at the Paneion (al-Kanaïs) refers to
these convoys10 as well as another one bearing the name of Satyros, the founder of
Philotera, who travelled to Trogodytikè to capture elephants (I. Kanaïs 9).
Fig. 1
Map of the routes to Berenike and Myos Hormos in the second half of the
3rd century BC.
© Drawing J.-P. Brun
6 Excavations at the fort of Bi’r Samût, demonstrated that the route from Berenike to
Apollônos Polis Mégalè was opened at the end of the reign of Ptolemy II, perhaps
towards 257 BC, which is the date of the founding of the Bi'r 'Iayyan station on the
route to Nechesia.11 These excavations also indicated that the fort of Bi’r Samût, was
abandoned at the end of the 3rd century, perhaps in 206 BC, during the revolt of the
Thebaïd, and that this route was never subsequently used.12
7 As a matter of fact, the main route for light weight goods from Arabia passing through
Berenike was, probably as early as Ptolemy II, that which joined Coptos13. I think we
should accept Strabo’s assertion that Ptolemy II founded Berenike at a latitude where
ships could easily reach and that he connected this port to Coptos by a route “without
141
water”.14 It is not an anachronism: the trail had far fewer stations and wells at that time
than during the Roman period, but there were already wells at Apollônos Hydreuma, at
Kompasi and probably at Phoinikôn.15 Indeed, the site of Kompasi, recently ravaged by
vandals looking for gold, was a gold mining centre from the Ptolemaic period:16 mining
veins were opened nearby, miners’ houses and two large mills for crushing gold ore are
partially preserved (Fig. 2, 3a and 3b).17 A road had to be traced probably from
Phoinikôn in order to provision the mines and a well had to be dug to allow miners to
live and work; trans-desert caravans subsequently also used this well. A graffito of an
elephant incised on a rock cliff near the Paneion of Wâdi Minayh might also indicate
that occasionally the trail leading to Coptos was used also to convey those animals.
Although its original and primary role was related to gold mining, Kompasi certainly
served as a stop on the route to Coptos. Phoinikon is an oasis where the water table is
easy to reach. The qualification “without water” fits, on the contrary, with the long
journeys between these wells which are distant one to another from about one hundred
kilometres.
Fig. 2
The site of Kompasi, gold mining centre during the early Ptolemaic
period.
© J.-P. Brun, january 2000
Fig. 3a
142
Mills used to crush the gold ore at Kompasi.

Fig. 3b
Mills used to crush the gold ore at Kompasi.

8 The final abandonment of the forts of Bi’r Samût, Abû Midrik and Abbad shows that
after 206 BC, the Berenike-Apollônos Polis route was abandoned.18 It must, therefore, be
concluded that the road to Berenike-Coptos was the only one used after the crisis. What
was the reason for choosing a route longer than the one leading to Apollônos Polis? I
suggest that it was due to a fiscal decision: the control of imported goods and the
payment of taxes were already centralized at Coptos, the traditional gateway to the
desert where the roads of the two ports, Berenike and Myos Hormos converged towards
the nearby oasis of Phoinikon. A unique customs administration was, thus, sufficient
for both ports and roads. In short, the system of “designated ports” where oriental
goods by law had to be delivered under customs control, as the Periplus of the Erythraean
Sea mentioned during the 1 st century AD,19 had probably been established during the
3rd century BC.
143
9 Evidence of frequent use of the Berenike-Coptos route during this period is sparse, in
particular because no excavations have been conducted at Kompasi. I have already said
that the trail was not as lavishly provided with forts and wells as the old route to
Apollônos Polis, but there are indications of some Ptolemaic activity. A South Arabian
inscription preserved on a rock at Bi'r Minayh indicates that a Minean traveller,
probably an incense merchant, stopped at this well.20 The Paneion of Wâdi Minayh was
frequented from the New Kingdom and several Ptolemaic graffiti21 and a demotic
graffito were inscribed at the rock shelters of al-Buwayb. This demotic graffito,
probably dating from the Ptolemaic period, mentions a man involved in the myrrh
trade, one of the aromatic substances transiting through Berenike.22
10 The caravans going to Myos Hormos stopped at the wells of Phoinikon and Persou and
probably at the well of Bi'r Seyyalâ which was, perhaps, called Simiou (Fig. 4).23 The
excavations I conducted in 1996 did not document Ptolemaic levels, but they revealed
that the site had a long and complex history. When Raymond Weill visited Bi'r Seyyalâ
on March 13, 1910, he noted that the fort, then much better preserved than today,
measured 50 m in length by 36 m in width and that a building, no longer extant, existed
42 m south of the fort. Measuring 24 m long and 7,50 m wide, this now lost building
preserved a plan similar to Roman hospitia like the one at Bi'r Baiza on the route to
Berenike (Fig. 5). The site is now largely covered by thick alluvium and my
investigations, too limited due to lack of time, did not reach the deepest strata.24
Between these wells, the caravans stopped near rocky shelters, such as Abu Ku'
between Phoinikon and Persou, which preserve several Ptolemaic graffiti.25
Fig. 4
The fort of Bi’r Sayyâla, perhaps called Simiou.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 5
144
Plans of the fort of Bi’r Sayyâla. On the right: sketch drawn by Raymond
Weill on March 13, 1910. On the left: plan of the ruins in 1996 by J.-
P. Brun and N. Martin.
© J.-P. Brun and N. Martin
The situation during the Julio-Claudian dynasty

11 The Roman conquest of Egypt did not change the situation much despite Strabo’s
comment about the tenfold increase in commercial traffic to India from Myos Hormos
(II, 5, 12).26 I think that the Roman administration did not change the system dating
from the Ptolemies, and retained the role of Coptos as centre for the traffic and as place
for the payment of taxes.
12 New stops on the route to Myos Hormos gradually supplemented older ones. Under
Tiberius, a military post was established in the Wâdi al-Hammâmât to serve both as a
base for the Graywacke quarries and as checkpoint.27 This post, unfortified, comprised
several rooms attached to a naos dedicated in AD 18.28 Later inscriptions carved on the
naos seem to indicate that it was occupied until AD 62.29 Another military post,
probably unfortified, was also established in the mountains between Wâdi al-
Hammâmât and Bi’r Sayyâla (Simiou?), at al-Zarqa, on the site where the fort of
Maximianon was later built and which may already have borne this name30 (Fig. 6). The
date of this settlement is not known, but if the name of Maximianon was given in
honour of C. Magius Maximus, it could date, like that of Wâdi al-Hammâmât, from the
beginning of the reign of Tiberius; this military checkpoint operated until Vespasian.31.
Fig. 6
145
Plan of the remains of the unfortified military post, prior to the fort of
Maximianon.
13 On the route to Berenike, caravans stopped at the old wells of Phoinikon, Kompasi,
Apollônos Hydreuma and probably at Wâdi Lahma.32 At the beginning of the
first century AD, the considerable increase in traffic, both at the ports and along the
routes, posed the question of water supply. The Roman administration ordered the
army to build cisterns to store water at Berenike, Myos Hormos, Kompasi and
Apollônos Hydreuma (Fig. 7 and 8). The inscription ILS 2483 from Coptos
commemorating this campaign bears no date,33 but it should be dated from the period
of growing traffic, probably during the reign of Augustus.
Fig. 7
Plan of Kompasi showing the location of the Roman cisterns.

Fig. 8
146
The Roman cisterns of Kompasi after their partial destruction in 2014.

© J.-P. Brun
14 Graffiti inscribed in the rock shelters at Al-Buwayb34 and Wâdi Minayh35 may reflect the
growing intensity of traffic rather than the opening of the route. As we know from
surveys, Kompasi was used for more than two centuries before the appearance of the
Augustan period graffiti36 (Fig. 9 and 10). At that time, the security conditions were
good enough for the caravans to stop anywhere in the desert, in monte writes Pliny (HN
VI, 102-103), without danger and the two checkpoints on the road to Myos Hormos,
used primarily for the transmission of letters, were not fortified.37
Fig. 9
Plan of the Paneion of Wâdi Minayh.
147
Fig. 10
Inscription dated from the Augustan period in the Paneion of Wâdi

Minayh.
© J.-P. Brun
During the Flavian and the Antonine periods

15 The situation changed during the last quarter of the first century. In AD 76-77, Lucius
Iulius Ursus, prefect of Egypt, reacted to merchants grievances about the routes to
Myos Hormos and Berenike, which were insufficiently equipped with wells and lacked
enough security.38 Maybe some caravans had been attacked or ransomed by the desert
dwellers attracted by the influx of precious goods and, in any case, the increase in
traffic would have caused further water supply problems on the trails leading to
Coptos. The prefect ordered the army to build a network of fortified wells
approximately every 40 km. Thus, from any point on this route, the caravans could find
a water source and a garrison at a maximum distance of 20 km (Fig. 11).
Fig. 11
148
Map of the routes to Berenike and to Myos Hormos at the end of the
first century AD.
16 This decision prompted a huge program to dig wells and to build cisterns and forts.
They were all constructed on the same plan, at Siket39 and all along the route Berenike-
Coptos. At Didymoi (Fig. 12) and at Aphroditès Orous (Fig. 13), inscriptions provide the
foundation dates.40 At Bi'r Baiza, probably already called Dios (Fig. 14), and at Xeron
Pelagos, our excavations did not document any dedicatory inscriptions but the ceramic
contexts of the earliest levels are contemporary to the beginnings of Didymoi (Fig. 15).
Fig. 12
The fort of Didymoi.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 13
149
The fort of Aphroditès Orous.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 14
Plan of the fort of Bi'r Baiza.

© J.-P. Brun and M. Reddé
Fig. 15
150
“Samian ware” bowl Dragendorff 37 manufactured at La Graufesenque

(Millau, Aveyron, France) under Vespasian and discovered in the layers
of gravel resulting from the digging of the well of Xeron Pelagos
(drawing Kh. Zaza).
© J.-P. Brun and K. Zaza
17 On the route to Myos Hormos, I suggest that the construction of the forts of Krokodilô
and Maximianon was linked to the decision of Lucius Iulius Ursus.41 An early phase of
Krokodilô took place before AD 103, date of the earliest ostrakon found in the southern
rubbish dump since this dump began to be used shortly after a new gate was opened
through the southern wall42 (Fig. 16). Similarly, the fort of Maximianon was built over
the ruins of the previously mentioned military post, which was occupied at least until
Nero’s time43 (Fig. 17). It is also possible that the fort of Krokodilô replaced the military
post in Wâdi al-Hammâmât. The praesidium of Persou, near Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, had
already existed by that time for nearly half a century (Fig. 18).44
Fig. 16
151
Plan of the fort of Krokodilô.

Fig. 17
The fort of Maximianon.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 18
152
Sketch of the site of Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir drawn by Raymond Weill, on

March 10, 1910, before the destruction by modern mining.
18 Throughout the desert, in the quarries of Porphyrites, Ophiates and Mons Claudianus,
and along the routes to Berenike and Myos Hormos, military presence peaked from the
last quarter of the 1st century to the middle of the 2nd century. During the 2nd century,
some forts were abandoned and replaced by others according to local needs (Fig. 19). In
AD 115, the fort of Dios was moved from Bi'r Baiza to Bi’r Abû Qurayya, 5 km north
(Fig. 20). I suggest the same pattern for those of Krokodilô and Bi'r al-Hammâmât.
Krokodilô was abandoned during the reign of Hadrian and I think it was replaced by the
fort of Bi'r al- Hammâmât 45 (Fig. 21). As the plan of the fort of al-Hamra is similar to
the one of Bi'r al-Hammâmât, it is likely that this fort was also built during the second
quarter of the 2nd century. The fort of Dawwi is not well dated: the rare ceramics found
during the excavations carried out in 1997 indicate that it was occupied some time
during the 2nd century; its plan is similar to that of Dios at Bi’r Abû Qurayya (Fig. 22); I
cannot be more precise.
Fig. 19
153
Map of the routes to Berenike and Myos Hormos during the 2nd century
AD.
Fig. 20
The fort of Dios.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 21
154
Plan of fort of Bi’r al-Hammâmât.

Fig. 22
Plan of fort of Dawwi.

19 During the second half of the 2nd century, activity declined at Didymoi due to the
collapse of the well: an inscription mentions its reconstruction during the reign of
Marcus Aurelius in AD 176-177. Everywhere else in the forts along the two routes, there
is no trace of abandonment, but some changes in the arrangement of the barracks
155
indicate that they were adapted. When the dump was well-preserved, such as
Maximianon or Dios, the regularity of the deposits during the second half of the
2nd century and the beginning of the 3rd century shows that these forts were
permanently occupied and that the traffic was intense between Coptos and the ports on
the Red sea (Fig. 23).
Fig. 23
Section of the Maximianon dump.

During the Severan dynasty

20 At the beginning of the 3rd century major changes occurred: the construction of a new
fort at Qusûr al-Banât followed by the abandonment of the forts along the route to
Myos Hormos and of the port itself (Fig. 24). The fort of Qusûr al-Banât lay between
Phoinikon and Krokodilô. It was still in good condition in the early twentieth century
when Raymond Weill visited it, but it is much deteriorated today (Fig. 25). The 1996
excavations by Michel Reddé discovered an incomplete inscription indicating that the
praesidium was built when a certain Antoninus was ordinary consul.46 The most probable
hypothesis is that Antoninus was Caracalla and that the inscriptions dates from the
3rd consulate of Septimius Severus associated with Caracalla in 202.47 Excavations
recorded few ceramics in the fort and nothing precludes an occupation during the early
3rd century, but its duration seems to be short.
Fig. 24
156
Map of the routes to Berenike and Myos Hormos at the beginning of the
3rd century AD.
Fig. 25
The fort of Qusûr al-Banât.

© J.-P. Brun
21 Two facts should be pointed out: the ostraka published by H. Cuvigny show that the
centurion Decimus commanded the fort.48 The presence of a centurion is noteworthy
and would have been required by an important mission that I propose to identify as the
construction of a network of watch towers connecting Myos Hormos to Coptos in order
to transmit alarms and orders through optical signals.49 This network could have been
established to alert the army commander in case of an attack by the “barbarians”
(Fig. 26a and b). But this network never seems to have been completed. The towers
157
were actually built between Phoinikon and Myos Hormos but not between Phoinikon
and Coptos (Fig. 27). Consequently this network never operated, which explains why
there are very few or no ceramics associated with the towers. These towers might be
called skopeloi according to the ostrakon O. QAB148:50 the soldier Herennius informs his
commander that he sent two containers of plaster or lime for works to be done in the
skopeloi up to Krokodilô (Fig. 28).
Fig. 26a
A signal tower viewed from the fort of Bi'r al-Hammâmât.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 26b
Detail of the signal tower above the fort of Bi'r al-Hammâmât.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 27
158
Map of the signal towers built between Phoinikon and Myos Hormos
(drawing J.-P. Brun after Zitterkopf, Sidebotham 1989, complemented by
Peacock, Blue 2006, Fig. 2.1.).
© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 28
The ostrakon O.QAB 148 in which Herennius informs his superior that he
has sent plaster for the works in progress on the skopeloi (interpretation
H. Cuvigny; photo A. Bülow-Jacobsen).
22 An operation of such magnitude and technicality could explain why a centurion had
been sent to command the works, which were suddenly interrupted by the withdrawal
of the army from the forts along the route. Indeed, the fort of Maximianon, the best
known because the stratigraphy of the dump is complete, was no longer occupied after
the Severian period: no ceramics, amphorae or glassware post-date the first quarter of
the 3rd century. The ceramic assemblages of the other sites, such as Al-Hamra and Bi'r
159
al-Hammâmât, are similar to that of the final levels of Maximianon, and I maintain that
all the forts of the Myos Hormos road were decommissioned during the first quarter of
the 3rd century.51
23 This decommissioning coincided with the nearly total abandonment of Myos Hormos
caused by the silting up of the harbour.52 Shortly after the beginning of the 3rd century,
most areas of the port were abandoned: the warehouses that once were probably an
apotheke aromatike similar to that mentioned in an inscription from Berenike, the area
of the public building in trench 2, the metal workshops in trenches 9 and 10, and the
house called the Roman villa by Whitcomb and Johnson. 53 The only area that remained
occupied was the hollow of the hill where trench 8 of the University of Southampton
discovered a dwelling 9 metres long, which was built during the first half of the
3rd century and abandoned around AD 250.54 This house, however, seems isolated: its
occupation suggests only that boats, probably small, sometimes anchored in the old
port. The major fact is that the rest of the settlement was abandoned (Fig. 29).
Fig. 29
Plan of Myos Hormos (Peacock, Blue 2006, Fig. 1, 2, 5, 1 and 2011 Fig. 15,
23-24). Yellow: areas excavated by the University of Southampton; black:
1st and 2nd centuries buildings after the excavations of the University of
Chicago and the University of Southampton; red: house still occupied
towards the middle of the 3rd century.
© D. Peacock, L. Blue 2006
24 Siltation of the harbour was a constant issue since the foundation of Myos Hormos.
During the 2nd century AD, the Romans dredged it: the American excavations found
deposits on the northern edge of the channel that seemed to result from this dredging.
55 With the techniques available during the Roman Empire, regular dredging could be
160
accomplished: specially designed boats were part of the usual equipment of the ports,
for example at Marseille and Naples. The decision not to dredge the port of Myos
Hormos, the withdrawal of troops from the route and the abandonment of the signal
towers network manifest a shift in the policy of the Roman administration which
decided to mass the soldiers on the route to Berenike.
25 From at least the time of Caracalla, detachments of Palmyrene archers were deployed
in the desert (Fig. 30). They are mentioned in inscriptions found at Berenike56 and
Coptos, and in ostraka documented in at least one desert garrison. 57 They likely wore
special tunics with arrow decorations similar to those on statues found at Palmyra;
such clothes were discovered in 3rd century layers at Didymoi, Dios and Xeron Pelagos58
(Fig. 31).
Fig. 30
Map of the routes to Berenike and Myos Hormos at the middle of the
3rd century AD.
Fig. 31
Tunic worn by a Palmyrene archer.

© D. Cardon
161
26 The arrival of these auxiliary troops marks a profound change in the organization of
the forts. Until then, the barracks were regularly planned and their rooms kept so clean
that, in the forts of Maximianon or Bi’r Baiza, there was no stratigraphy inside them:
the floors were systematically cleaned up to the substratum and any waste had been
transported to the extramural dump. After the arrival of the Palmyrene archers, new
rooms of different sizes were built with tortuous walls; the soldiers stopped throwing
their rubbish outside the fort; instead they left it inside the barracks, quickly creating
thick strata of filling and rubbish, which help us to trace the evolution of the buildings.
Within half a century, in forts like Didymoi, Dios or Xeron Pelagos, the ground rose
nearly up to the catwalk (Fig. 32). This change inside the forts was also reflected in
their diet: in the 3rd century, the soldiers no longer raised pigs as they had done
previously during the 1st and 2nd centuries; instead they consumed mainly sheep and
goats, as shown from archaeozoological analysis conducted by Martine Leguilloux.59
Fig. 32
Irregularly shaped rooms built by the Palmyrene archers in the fort of

Xeron Pelagos. Phase 3, second quarter of the 3rd century.
© J.-P. Brun
From Gallienus to Zenobia

27 During the 3rd quarter of the 3rd century, the forts of Didymoi, Dios and Xeron Pelagos
were partially abandoned, some barracks being filled with waste as in the north-
western corner of Didymoi. At Xeron Pelagos, the middle of the 3rd century witnessed
abandonment of rooms 7 and 8, the building of bread ovens and grain silos in the
north-Eastern corner of the fort and the reuse of one of the cisterns as a rubbish dump.
At Dios, the bottom of cistern 3 was also filled with trash and the latest occupation
levels included the construction of small silos, grain milling facilities and large ovens
(Fig. 33).
Fig. 33
162
Ovens used during the final phase of Dios (excavated by M. Reddé).

© J.-P. Brun
28 The last layers of occupation of these forts contained many vases with white calcareous
fabric and some amphorae imported from outside Egypt: African amphorae 2a, Dressel
30, Kapitan II, imitations of “Gauloise 4” amphorae produced in Cilicia (Fig. 34) and in
Syria and handmade vases produced by the desert dwellers (Eastern Desert Ware)
(Fig. 35).
Fig. 34
Cilician Amphora copying the “Gauloise 4” type from Xeron Pelagos.

Phase 4. Third quarter of the 3rd century AD.
Fig. 35
163
“Eastern Desert Ware”from the final phase of Dios. Third quarter of the
3rd century AD.
© Drawing K. Zaza
29 This phase has been highlighted by the discovery of 96 ostraka of the same type: they
are wheat receipts released to individuals bearing “barbarian” names (Fig. 36).
H. Cuvigny published them in an article entitled “Papyrological evidence on
'barbarians' in the Egyptian Eastern desert”.60 These texts indicate that, during the 11th
year of the reign of a non specified Emperor (but the associated ceramics show that this
Emperor should be Gallienus), thus in AD 264, the Roman army distributed large
quantities of grain to Trogoditi/Blemmiae.61 We have to imagine that an agreement had
been reached between the Roman administration and the chief of the barbarians called
Baratit to distribute grain to his dependants. The reason for this distribution could be
related to the incapacity of the army to maintain a strong presence in the area. The last
soldiers stationed in the forts could no longer resist the growing pressure of the
barbarians and the administration had to find a compromise establishing a form of
cooperation with the barbarians through food distributions, a policy known elsewhere
in the empire in the same period, for example in Germany. The transformation of some
barracks into sheepfolds might be explained by an increased presence of barbarians in
the forts themselves.
Fig. 36
164
Receipts of distribution of wheat found at Xeron Pelagos. Phase 4

(excavations by M. Reddé).
© J.-P. Brun
30 This massive distribution seems to have been punctual because we found no other
testimony of this practice. However, the presence of numerous ovens in the latest
levels of the forts of Dios and Xeron Pelagos suggests the need for baking bread in large
quantities. As we know that there were fewer soldiers than before, these ovens might
have been used to bake bread to be distributed to the nomadic populations.
31 This management system did not last. The last soldiers were withdrawn a few years
after the distribution of AD 264: these ostraka were discovered in the latest occupation
levels and the ceramic wares discovered in these forts do not include objects from the
late third century. On the other hand, the mention of Baratit, chief of the barbarians,
both on the ostraka of Xeron and on an ostrakon found at Didymoi shows that the two
forts (and probably all those on the route to Berenike) were still occupied after 260.62 It
is probable that when Zenobia seized Egypt in 270, she probably withdraw the
Palmyrene archers leading to the abandonment of the route to Berenike. The
withdrawal of the army allowed the Blemmyes to seize Phoinikôn (Olympiodorus of
Thebes in Photius 30, 62), soon after Coptos to 279/280 (Zosimus I, 71, 1) 63 and perhaps
Berenike. The trade of the Red Sea and the exploitation of the quarries suffered greatly
with these events and Berenike seems almost abandoned during the late 3 rd century
beginning of the 4th century.
Under Diocletian and his successors

32 After his victory over Blemmyes in AD 296, the repression of the peasant revolts, of that
of L. Domitius Domitianus and the pacification of the Thebaïd, Diocletian re-established
imperial authority by installing the Legio III Diocletiana in a camp built in the temple of
Louqsor. This legionary camp of 3.72 ha built for about 1,500 people, was dedicated in
AD 301.64
33 The policy of military affirmation continued in the following years with the founding,
in AD 309-311, of a fort at Abu Sha'ar on the Red Sea coast, in order to restore security
and to protect trade, as an inscription from the main (western) gate of the installation
indicates. As Myos Hormos was definitely silted up, the army looked for another port
further north to replace it as a base for its naval and land patrols. Indeed, the Blemmiae
may have engaged in piracy against merchant ships and the Roman government would
have had to secure the coast.
34 On the other hand, the army did not reoccupy the forts along the route to Berenike
after the crisis. The only base where the army maintained a garrison was perhaps the
oasis of Phoinikon, but we are not certain.65 The final abandonment of the forts
indicates a change in commercial practices. As it was difficult to cross the desert
because of the danger, ships had to seek other means to go further north up to Klysma.
Given prevailing wind conditions, the goods arriving from India and elsewhere aboard
large ships were probably transferred at Berenike to smaller boats more able to reach
Klysma and the Nile canal. This type of transfer is common in seaports where goods
arriving on large vessels were transferred to smaller boats able to go up a river, for
example, at Rome or at Arles. Such a change might explain the renaissance of Berenike
165
during the mid-fourth century according to evidence from excavations directed by S.

Sidebotham66 (Fig. 37).
Fig. 37
Plan of the excavations of Klysma conducted by B. Bruyère (reworked by

F. Bessière and interpreted by J.-P. Brun).
© F. Bessière and J.-P. Brun
Late Antiquity
35 From that time, the ruins of forts were sporadically visited as evidenced, at Didymoi,
Dios and Xeron Pelagos, by the discovery of few fragments of Late Roman 1, Late
Roman 3, Late Roman 7 amphorae,67 of a vase made at Axum68 (Fig. 38) and of a bottle of
wine from the Great Oasis69 (Fig. 39). These vases are datable to between the late 4th and
the early 6th century. Sometimes caravans ventured across the desert coming from
Berenike, perhaps after having reached an agreement with the Blemmiae: graffiti at
Wâdi Minayh show that the route was still used during the Proto-Byzantine period,70
even if it was not secured by the army and that the wells were no longer maintained.71
Fig. 38
166
Axumite hand made vase found in a level of abandonment of the fort of

Didymoi. 4th century AD (drawing and picture J.-P. Brun).
© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 39
Jug type Gempeler T813 found in a level of abandonment of the fort of

Didymoi (drawing and picture J.-P. Brun). 5th century AD.
© J.-P. Brun
36 On the route to Myos Hormos, there was intense exploitation of the gold mines at Bi’r
Umm Fawâkhir during the 5th and 6 th centuries; it caused a brief re-occupation of the
ruins of some forts along the route between Coptos and the mines.72 Laquîta certainly
was then used at least as a stop and watering point. The gate of the fort of Krokodilô
was partly cleared to install a makeshift camp.73 Finally, Christian hermits settled here
and there for temporary periods or longer, especially in the fort of Abû Sha'ar between
the late 4th and the 6th century,74 in the north-western area of Bi’r al-Nakhîl and in
many other places where huts interpreted as laurae have been identified. 75 Sacking of
the pagan sanctuaries in the forts of Didymoi and Dios seems due to the action of these
monks who travelled the desert in the fifth century (Fig. 40).
Fig. 40
167
The sanctuary of the fort of Dios sacked in the 5th century.

© J.-P. Brun
37 The extremely precarious living conditions imposed by the climate meant that the
occupation of settlements in the desert depended entirely on the political decision to
acquire gold, precious stones, granite or porphyry, or to organize the transit of
elephants, troops or caravans carrying precious and taxable goods from Arabia or
India. As such, the occupation of the fortresses is the barometer of the power of the
Ptolemies and of the Roman emperors. When their power was strong, actions were
clearly visible on the ground: exploitation of gold and precious stones mines, granite
and porphyry quarries, foundation and maintenance of ports, wells and forts. When
their power weakened, desert road infrastructure was gradually abandoned. At first the
quarries, then the fortresses and finally the ports that survived until the weakness of
demand combined with natural constraints and insecurity put an end to all extractive
or commercial activities. Archaeological evidence points to phases of growth during
the late 4th and the 3rd century BC, from the late 2nd century BC to the beginning of the
3rd century AD, from the beginning of the 4th to the beginning of the 6th century and of
decline in the late third and early 2nd century BC, in the early 3rd century AD on the
route to Myos Hormos, in the late third and early 4th century on that of Berenike, and
from the middle of the 6th century elsewhere.
168
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road”. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 75, pp. 155–189.
FOOTNOTES
1. The Mission archéologique française du Désert Oriental is funded by the Ministère des affaires
étrangères, l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale et la Fondation du Collège de France
(direction: H. Cuvigny 1993-2013; from 2014, B. Redon).
2. Whitcomb, Johnson 1982; Peacock, Blue 2006 and 2011.
3. Sidebotham 2011 and 2018.
4. Meyer 2018.
5. Pantalacci 2018.
6. Castel, Soukiassian 1989.
7. Tallet, Mahfouz 2012
8. Goyon 1957.
9. Faucher 2018.
10. Sidebotham, Wendrich 2000, 2007 and 2011, pp. 107-108.
11. Bagnall et al. 1996.
12. Redon 2018.
13. Under Ptolemy IV, before the revolt of the Thebaid, part of the commercial traffic passed
through the Paneion (al-Kanais), if the inscription I. Kanais 8 actually comes from this place (in
fact, the stone, now in a private collection, has been attributed by Bernand 1972 to the Paneion,
but this is only a hypothesis, see Desanges 1978, pp. 299-300).
14. About the discussion of the meaning of “without water”, see Cuvigny 2004, pp. 4-5. Strabo
continues: “Experience has shown the great utility of his enterprise, and now all the goods from
172
India and Arabia, as well as those of the Ethiopian products which pass through the Arabian Gulf,
are conveyed to Coptos, port of trade for this kind of commodities” (Geography 17, 1, 45).
15. The site of Laqîta was never properly surveyed or excavated, but in this oasis the water table
is close to the ground and vegetation, including palm trees, grows naturally. Laquîta-Phoinikon
was a step for the expeditions to the quarries of bekhen in the Wâdi al-Hammâmât.
16. During the survey I did in 2008, I found potsherds which can be dated from the 3rd century
BC: the gold mine could be opened by Ptolemy I or II.
17. About Daghbag: Sidebotham, Hense, Nouwens, 2008, p. 219 and Klemm, Klemm 2013.
18. The archaeology of these forts proves, if needed, that the Apollônos polis situated by Strabo
at a short distance from Coptos is indeed Apollônos polis Mikra, which welcomed travelers in
symbiosis with the city of Min (Cuvigny 2004). Indeed, there is no testimony of the frequentation
of the route to Apollônos polis Megalè (Edfu) in the late Ptolemaic period (after the 2nd century)
and during the Roman Empire.
19. The Periplus Maris Erythraei, that Arnaud 2012 has convincingly proved to be a scholarly
compilation written during the second century AD using differents sources, states that Berenike
and Myos Hormos are the two “designated” ports (ἀποδεδειγμένων) on the coast of the
Erythrean sea (§1). The debate concerns the meaning of the term ἀποδεδειγμένων. Does it simply
mean “recognized, important” or even “mentioned” (previously in a list) (Arnaud 2012,
pp. 35-36)? Or is it more official and precise, meaning “prescribed, made obligatory” to be port of
landing of goods on the coast of Egypt because under military control (Casson 1989, pp. 273-274)?
I think that the two occurrences of the term in the text (in reference to Myos Hormos and
Berenike §1 and to Moscha, port of incense §32) support the second meaning. This official
meaning is confirmed by an ostrakon found at Myos Hormos and commented by H. Cuvigny
[http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-brun/seminar-2013-12-03-10h00.htm]: a
simple fisherman, called Pakybis, needs a pass delivered by the paralemptès (receiver of the
customs), called Avitus, to sail to the port of Philotera. This indicates that ships were not allowed
to anchor elsewhere than in one of the “designated” ports unless specific authorization. A
relatively early indication of the convey of exotic goods to Coptos may be found in an inscription
dated to 130 BC mentioning Sôtèrichos, an officer in charge of ensuring “the safety of those who
bring the cargoes of incense and other exotic products from the desert of Coptos” (I.Pan 86; De
Romanis 1996, pp. 132-134).
20. De Romanis 1996, p. 205. On this site and the pharaonic inscriptions: Lutz 2002.
21. Bingen 1972. In the article “Le paneion d’Al-Buwayb revisité”, H. Cuvigny and A. Bülow-
Jacobsen 2000, linked that Ptolemaic graffiti to people coming from the gold mines of Kompasi
“Bien que certains invoquent Pan de la Bonne Route”, les hommes qui sont passés par Al-Buwayb
à l'époque ptolémaïque ne revenaient pas d'expéditions risquées en terre lointaine. I.Ko.Ko. 158
(ptolémaïque d'après la paléographie) suggère la raison qui conduisit un de ces hommes en ces
lieux: ce sklèrourgos originaire de Coptos adresse sa dédicace à “Pan Donneur d'or et de la Bonne
Route; il se rend à des mines d'or ou en revient.” But we should not apply this indication to all
graffiti, especially as at least one of them has been written by Pakhes who was probably trading
myrrh.
22. Colin 1998. Graffiti dated from the New Kingdom and the Ptolemaic or Roman period
mentions people looking for gold or stones but also travelers using this route for commercial
reasons. At Wâdi Minayh, a man called Nehesy is called “expedition director” who may be either
a rock mining expedition director or a caravan leader. At the Paneion of al-Buwayb, a demotic
graffito, probably from the Ptolemaic period, mentions “The perfumer Pakhes, son of
Panebourshy” who was to be implied in the importation of the myrrh, which would be a proof of
the passage of the caravans carrying resins from that time.
23. Cuvigny 2018.
24. Brun 2003, pp. 129-133
173
25. Fournet 1995.

26. Given the date of Strabo's passage, about ten years after the Roman takeover, it seems that
the trade increase began during the reign of Cleopatra.
27. Gasse 1988; Kayser 1993; Ballet 2018.
28. Bernand 1972, I. Ko. Ko. 41; Kayser 1993, pp. 111-113.
29. Cuvigny 2018 writes that the existence of proscynems dated from the reign of Nero does not
assert that the military post was still occupied towards the middle of the 1st century because
these inscriptions could have been written after the abandonment of the place. The naos was still
visited. Nevertheless, the ceramic assemblage, according to Ballet 2018, is clearly dated from the
2nd quarter and the middle of the 1st c. AD, but the ceramic contexts cannot give such a precise
date to resolve this question.
30. There are two possible prefects of Egypt named Maximus: C. Magius Maximus, prefect in AD
14/15 and L. Laberius Maximus, prefect in AD 83 (Cuvigny 2018). Both of them are arguable. The
first would imply that the name of Maximianon passed normally from the early post to the
Flavian fort. The second would imply that the Flavian fort was built in AD 83, six years after the
forts of the series Didymoi-Aphroditès-Siket. I think that the permanence of the toponyms
favours the first hypothesis.
31. Brun 2003, pp. 109-113.
32. Sidebotham 2011, table 8.
33. Kennedy 1985.
34. Cuvigny 2000.
35. Which F. de Romanis 1996 thought they dated the opening of the route.
36. Survey 2008 by the author, E. Botte and L. Cavassa.
37. Wâdi al-Hammâmât and al-Zarqa I previously mentionned.
38. Bagnall, Bülow-Jacobsen, Cuvigny 2001.
39. Sidebotham 1998.
40. Bagnall, Bülow-Jacobsen, Cuvigny 2001.
41. If the toponym goes back to C. Magius Maximus, prefect in AD 14/15. If Maximianon recalled
the name of L. Laberius Maximus, we would imagine another campaign of well digging six years
later, in AD 83.
42. Brun 2003, pp. 79-91.
43. Brun 2003, pp. 112-114.
44. About Persou, see Cuvigny 2018. The archaeological site of Bi'r Umm Fawâkhir was visited by
Raymond Weill on March 10th, 1910, before the destruction by modern mining: on the sketch he
then drew, we see the ancient miners settlement and confused ruins around the well among
which an "old cistern" that could belong to the praesidium of Persou: see Aufrère 2002; Brun 2003,
pp. 195-197. On the Byzantine phase of the Bi'r Umm Fawâkhir: Meyer 2018 with bibliography.
45. Brun 2003, pp. 199-200.
46. Reddé 2003, pp. 73-77.
47. Such a date is suitable for a fort whose plan is a rectangle with rounded corners without
tower, similar to that of Tisavar (Ksar Rilane in Tunisia) built under Commodus CIL VIII, 11048.
See Reddé 2018.
48. Cuvigny 2003, p. 220.
49. Zitterkopf, Sidebotham 1989; about the signal towers near Myos Hormos: Peacock, Blue 2006,
chapitre 2.
50. Cuvigny 2003, p. 220.
51. Brun 2014.
52. Peacock, Blue 2006, pp. 88-114.
53. Whitcomb, Johnson 1982, pp. 21-37.
174
54. Peacock, Blue 2006, pp. 137-139; more generally on the abandonment of Myos Hormos:
pp. 174-177.
55. Whitcomb, Johnson 1982, pp. 8-11; Whitcomb 1996.
56. Sidebotham 2011, pp. 220, 260, 264.
57. Sidebotham 2011; Cuvigny 2012.
58. See the Dominique Cardon’s talk: [http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-brun/
59. Leguilloux 2018.
60. Cuvigny 2014.
61. Two emperors only reigned 11 years and more during this period: Severus Alexander
(222-235) and Gallienus (253-268). The second emperor is the right one because the ostraka were
discovered in the last layers immediately preceding the abandonment of the fort, and because
hand made vases, glass wares as well as the amphorae are datable from the middle of the
3rd century (Among them Rütti AR 171 glass bottles, African 2a and Dressel 30 amphorae).
62. We know from the ostraka from Xeron that Baratit was living towards the middle of the
3rd century. This data implies that the stratigraphic unit 215 of the Didymoi dump, from which
the ostrakon O.Did. 41 has been discovered and the group of stratigraphic units attributed to the
period 11 (Brun 2011, pp. 128-129) must be placed in the period 12 (during the middle and the
3rd quarter of the 3rd century); two other ostraka mentioning Baratit were discovered inside the
fort (O.Did. 42: SU 10504 and O.Did. 43: SU 12805): Cuvigny 2011, pp. 107-111.
63. Desanges 1978, pp. 350-351.
64. El-Saghir et alii 1986.
65. The Notitia dignitatum Or. 31, 49, written between 379 and 397, mentions the ala VIII
Palmyrenorum at Phoinikon, but it could be an outdated information describing a situation from
the second half of the 3rd century when the Palmyrene archers were actually deployed in the
forts along the route to Berenike.
66. Sidebotham 2002; 2011, pp. 259-282.
67. Riley 1981.
68. Brun 2015.
69. These bottles, characterised by their form and the horizontal grooves on the rim and the
body, as well as their kaolinitic fabric covered with a yellow slip are common in the oasis of
Kharga. At Kysis (Douch), P. Ballet has fixed the chronology: the Didymoi bottle can be attributed
to her phase III, dated from the second half of the 4th- beginning of the 5th century (Ballet 2004,
pp. 222-224; 1998 et 2001). These bottles are frequent in the necropolis of Kysis: in tomb 20 (room
II, p. 54), in tomb 36 (room I, p. 85), in tomb 45 (room I, p. 97) (Dunand et alii 1992, pp. 54, 85, 97 et
238, pl. IV, 2 et 84). The chronologic data of the necropolis are not precise but a dating in the 4th-
beginning of the 5th century fits with the glasswares and with the imitations of ARS. I think that
these containers were used for a quality wine produced in the oasis. At Douch and Didymoi, this
vases are internally pitched; their use as funerary offering at Kysis is also a clue of such a use.
These bottles are also known at Eléphantine: Gempeler 1992 type T813.
70. Byzantine graffiti of the Wâdi Minayh: Cuvigny, Bülow-Jacobsen 1999, pp. 157-159, n°42-52.
5th and 6th centuries pottery from Bi’r Minay: Lutz 2002, pp. 385-386.
71. The scarcity of Late Antique ceramics in the forts of Didymoi, Dios, Xeron Pelagos and
Falakron shows that nobody was living there anymore and that the official and organised supply
ceased after c. AD 270.
72. Meyer 2018.
73. Brun 2003, pp. 80 et 91.
74. Sidebotham 1994.
75. Peacock, Blue 2006, p. 26. About monachism in the Oriental desert: Fournet 2018.
175
AUTHOR
Jean-Pierre Brun
ORCID: 0000-0001-8615-2061
Professor at the Collège de France, Chair of Techniques and Economies in the Ancient
Mediterranean
176
The Fortlets of the Eastern Desert of

Egypt
Michel Reddé
1 The numerous and sometimes exceptionally well preserved fortlets in the Eastern
Desert of Egypt make it tempting to revisit a subject already studied in several works by
other scholars (Maxfield 1996; Cuvigny et al. 2003; Sidebotham, et al. 2008). The
architectural study of these particular Roman military buildings, poorly understood
throughout the Empire, merits further attention, and recent excavations carried out by
different teams, French, American and British, have shed some light on a number of
new elements. In addition, the bibliography is somewhat scattered, and is constantly
evolving. It is, thus, the right moment to present a new synthesis on this subject with a
unified bibliography.1
2 The distribution map of these fortlets (fig. 1), called praesidia in the ostraka (or the same
word transliterated from Latin to Greek), has changed very little in recent years, other
than around Berenike where the American-Dutch mission conducted numerous surveys
that revealed hitherto unknown sites (Sidebotham et al. 2008, fig. 15.1). The roads that
cross this desert, however, have functions quite different from one another and this
fact alone explains the existence of distinct architectural types. It is important to
remember that these tracks were generally not built as roads: they were trails that led
from one stopping point to another and whose routes can vary significantly in detail,
especially in flat and sandy areas. Other than the road stops (sometimes rock shelters,
studded with graffiti and rock inscriptions), where travellers camped, the only
infrastructure included the stations built and controlled by the army, where one could
rest and refuel, some probably also had wells that were not protected by the praesidia –
but for that reason remain little known– or towers that mark the road from Coptos to
Myos Hormos, although their function and chronology are unclear (Brun, Cuvigny,
Reddé 2003, p. 207-234). The Via Nova Hadriana between Antinoopolis and the coast, well
north on Figure 1, seems to be an exception. For much of its ca. 800 km length the
surface was cleared and dotted with stone cairns, while the road on its west-east course
from the Nile to the coast lacked praesidia, that portion parallel to the coast had them
(cf. Sidebotham and Zitterkopf 1997, 1998, Sidebotham et al., 2000; Sidebotham 2008,
177
p. 42-52). There are no known milestones on this or any other major routes in the
Eastern Desert. It should be remembered that traffic was controlled there, both from a
tax and a policing point of view,2 by a system of “laissez-passer”, at least in some areas.3
Fig. 1
Map of the Eastern Desert.

® J.-P. Brun
3 The stations installed on the tracks that lead to the great quarries in the Eastern Desert
(Mons Claudianus, Mons Porphyrites) have a substantially different typology to that of the
forts that line the caravan trails leading from Coptos to the two major ports of the Red
Sea, Myos Hormos and Berenike. So the praesidium of Umm Balad, south of Porphyrites,
has, in its first phase, a plan which is very similar to that of Mons Claudianus (Maxfield,
Peacock 1997, fig. 2.3 and 2.44), but with smaller dimensions (fig. 2). None of these
fortlets leading to quarries are actually built around a central well, a feature which, on
the other hand, characterizes the praesidia on the roads of the two great caravan routes
of the Eastern Desert.4 The military character of the stations at the quarries or on
tracks that lead to them is not obvious at first, since they essentially housed a civilian
population engaged in the extraction and working of the stone, next to some soldiers
who policed the area, as evidenced by the extensive documentation provided by
ostraka.
Fig. 2
178
Comparative plans of the Umm Balad and Mons Claudianus fortlets.

© M. Reddé
4 Fortlets associated with large tracks through the desert to transport goods from
eastern trade between the Red Sea and Coptos, on the Nile, are of a different type. They
are not known archaeologically before the time of Vespasian (Cuvigny et al. 2003), when
there is, however, only evidence on the road from Berenike: a series of inscriptions
bearing the name of the prefect of Egypt L. Iulius Ursus and dated AD 76-77 (Bagnall,
Bülow-Jacobsen, Cuvigny 2001). Pliny the Elder (HN VI, p. 102-103) describes the initial
state of that route, naming the stations whose toponyms are also listed in the
Itinerarium Antonini. Pliny, however, says nothing about the route to Myos Hormos,
which was still in use during his time, but his testimony does not negate the existence
of more ancient archaeological evidence in this desert. Ptolemaic stations appear on
the track leading from Edfu (fig. 1)5 and Strabo (XVII, 1, 45) describes of a previous
caravan system whose archaeological remains are largely absent today (De Romanis
1996; Cuvigny et al. 2003; Cuvigny 1997). Within this context, it is worth noting the large
inscription from Coptos that mentions the construction of lacci at Apollonôs Hydreuma,
Kompasi, Berenike and Myos Hormos by a vexillatio composed of legionaries and
auxiliaries (Dessau 2483= I. Portes 56). It is usually dated to the end of the reign of
Augustus or Tiberius but nothing precludes it from being later. Whatever the meaning
of the word lacci (“cisterns” or “wells”) ,6 the inscription from Coptos shows the
involvement of the army in the control and management of routes in the Eastern
Desert, from the first century AD. Conversely, a station like that of Dios/Iovis is clearly
dated to the time of Trajan by an inscription, probably because the well of the fort
originally built in another nearby wâdi, Bi’r Bayza, no longer produced enough water
(Cuvigny 2010, No. 1). Perhaps we have the same situation with the station of
179
Phalakron, probably shortly occupied if we consider that it did not, like the others,
undergo numerous alterations changing the original plan.
5 I will now focus on the praesidia of two routes to Myos Hormos and Berenike studied
recently by the French mission7 and dated between the end of the first century AD and
the first half of the third. Six of them were partially excavated and recorded on the
Coptos/Myos Hormos route (fig. 3-8), and they have since been published (Cuvigny et al.
2003); four others have been excavated more or less completely on the route to
Berenike (fig. 9-12), but only that of Didymoi was the subject of two monographs
(Cuvigny et al. 2011, 2012). This little series allows us to draw some conclusions.
Fig. 3
Plan of the praesidium of Qusûr al-Banat.

© N. Martin / M. Reddé
Fig. 4
180
Plan of the praesidium of Krokodilô.

© J.-P. Brun / N. Martin
Fig. 5
Plan of the praesidium of Bi'r al-Hammâmât.

Fig. 6
181
Plan of the praesidium of Maximianon.

© J.-P. Adam
Fig. 7
Plan of the praesidium of Al-Hamrâ'.

© J.-P. Brun/N. Martin
182
Fig. 8
Plan of the praesidium of Al-Dawwî.

Fig. 9
Plan of the praesidium of Didymoi.

© J.-P. Brun / M. Reddé
183
Fig. 10
Plan of the praesidium of Dios/Iovis.

Fig. 11
Plan of the praesidium of Xeron pelagos.

184
Fig. 12
Plan of the praesidium of Falakron.

The plan
6 The plans are not standardized and no station is identical, but there are architectural
similarities. The fortlets are geometric in shape and more or less regular, usually
square, sometimes rectangular, with a curtain wall flanked by projecting round towers
at the corners, and near the only gate; intermediary towers are sometimes known. The
centre of the space thus created is occupied by a large well, which is usually collapsed
in on itself. The barracks are, therefore, placed against the curtain wall. We do not
know what buildings existed in the free spaces in the centre, since the nearby buildings
collapsed into the wells. The dimensions are about 50/60 m on each side. We can
summarize this information in the following table:
External
Modern name Height of the ramparts (rampart
dimensions Route
Ancient Site walk)
(without towers)
Myos
Al-Muwayh (Krokodilô) 53 m x 52 m ?
Hormos
Myos
Bi'r al-Hammâmât 53,5 m x 53,5 m ?
Hormos
Myos
Al-Zarqâ' (Maximianon) 56 m x 56 m 3,12 m
Hormos
Myos
Al-Hamrâ' 59 m x 54 m 1,77 m
Hormos
185
Myos
Al-Dawwî 55/57,5 m x 57 m ?
Hormos
Myos
Qusûr al-Banat 39 m x 32 m ?
Hormos
Khashm al-Minayh
54 m x 43 m 2,65 m Berenike
(Didymoi)
Bi’r Bayza 45 m x 36 m ? Berenike
Abû Qurayya (Dios/Iovis) 59 m x 53 m 2,65 m Berenike
Wâdi Gerf (Xeron Pelagos) 44 m x 33 m + 2,5 m Berenike
Wâdi Dweig (Phalakron?) 30 m x 26 m 2,3 m Berenike
7 The projecting semi-circular towers are contemporary with the construction of the
ramparts and do not constitute later additions. Posterns were observed in four cases. At
Didymoi and Dios, where they are original, they were blocked in a second phase. It is
interesting to note the irregularity of the height of the walls, always built in dry stone,
with a pronounced batter to ensure the stability of the construction. No ditch has ever
been observed. The relatively low elevations reflect an absence of significant threats,
even if, in the course of the second century, additional defensive constructions and
different texts point to a renewed danger (Cuvigny 2005, p. 135-143).
8 One of excavated fortlets does not follow this pattern, that of Qusûr al-Banat, on the
road from Myos Hormos. This is, in fact, a station with smaller dimensions (c. 39 x
32 m), rectangular in plan, without corner towers, and perhaps without a central well.
The single gate is framed by two small rectangular towers. From a chronological point
of view, this fortlet is attributed to the beginning of the third century AD according to
the ceramic material (Cuvigny et al. 2003, fig. 22).
Internal improvements
Wells and cisterns
9 The systematic presence of a large central well in these praesidia reflects the core
purpose of these buildings: to control water points and, thus, traffic on the road, to
ensure the provision of supplies to travellers and caravans. The water was extracted
from the well by a system that excavations have so far been unable to clearly identify,
although ceramic pots were found, implying the existence of water lifting devices. The
water was quite often stored in large intramural cisterns, built out of fired bricks; at
Didymoi, these cisterns were multiplied as a result of several reconstructions,
increasing the total storage capacity from 120 m3 to more than 380 m 3 (Cuvigny et al.
2011, p. 20-24; fig. 13). However, such cisterns are not known everywhere: on the Myos
Hormos road they appear at Krokodilô (Al-Muwayh) but a well-preserved fort like
Maximianon (Al-Zarqâ') certainly did not have them. On the route to Berenike, three
excavated stations (Didymoi, Dios, Xeron Pelagos) had them, but not Phalakron. This
186
storage system made it possible to water animals that remained outside the enclosures:
feeding pipes crossing the rampart have been found at Maximianon, Didymoi and Dios.
In the last two cases they were driving water to outside troughs (fig. 14).
Fig. 13
View of the internal cisterns of Didymoi.

© M. Reddé
Fig. 14
View of the external troughs of Didymoi.

© M. Reddé
The baths
10 Several very thoroughly excavated forts revealed small bath complexes, except that of
Qusûr al-Banat (Reddé 2009).
187
Maximianon
11 In the northeast corner of the fort a small thermal unit was installed after initial
construction (fig. 15).
Fig. 15
The baths of Maximianon.

© M. Reddé
12 The baths could be entered by a small door, 0.68 m wide along the north curtain wall,
and one entered a room 4 x 3.15 m, containing two bathtubs constructed of bricks and
carefully coated with lime mortar, each with dimensions of 1.78 x 0.68 m. Only the
northern one is still fairly well preserved. The inner face of the rampart has, at this
point, at a height of 0.60 m, a coating of ochre lime, which probably marks the upper
limit of the bathtub because remnants of a white coating identical to that which seals
the installation of the baths appears underneath. Two successive floors were observed.
13 This frigidarium opened onto a caldarium room which was circular with a diameter of
1.80 m (room 10) and constructed in shale; it was probably topped by a dome made of
fired bricks, of which only the lower course remains (fig. 16). Its floor, originally at the
same level as the frigidarium, was then below it after the installation of its second paved
floor. The floor of room 10 consists of shale slabs on its southern half, resting on the
sterile backfill that goes down to the substrate. No trace of a furnace or a hypocaust has
been found.
Fig. 16
188
The caldarium of Maximianon.

© M. Reddé
Didymoi
14 The excavation uncovered a small bath complex next to one of the cisterns of the fort
(cistern 2), whose masonry is solid; its construction must go back to that of the
praesidium (fig. 17-18).
Fig. 17
189
The baths of Didymoi.

© M. Reddé
Fig. 18
General view of the baths of Didymoi. At the background, the well; in the
foreground, the cisterns.
© M. Reddé
15 To the south, a hypocaust room (7a) of 2.70 m (EW) x 2.30 m (NS) was noted. The
furnace is to the south-west, preserved under the later masonry of room 9: there is a
channel 0.40 m wide, probably broken to the west. Its covering has not been preserved.
The eastern wall of the caldarium, built of brick (30 x 15 x 7.5 cm), is well preserved,
while the western wall has been partially destroyed by the construction of room 9, and
190
the southern wall destroyed by later facilities. The pilae are made of square bricks 30 x
30 cm. To the west, they are not joined to the wall, but there are half pilae that leave a
space for the circulation of warm air between the wall itself and a dividing wall, part of
which remains standing. In the north-western corner of the caldarium is a heating duct
which looks out over fire-reddened masonry, apparently without pilae. The
construction of room 9 destroyed the previous building and no longer allows the plan
to be accurately recognized, but one can probably imagine that there was a small hot
tub there.
16 Just to the north, between the caldarium and cistern 2 is a cold pool (7b) of 1.20 m (NS
dimensions) x 1.45 m (EW dimensions), carefully coated with fine white lime mortar, in
the interior, and with a step width of 0.30 m to the south. A duct, visible in the masonry
at the southeast corner, joins the pipe b.
17 With no access possible to the north, due to the presence of cistern 2, or west, because
of the praefurnium (6), the entry must be either from the east or the south. This last
hypothesis is the most probable: we can see, inside the later masonry, a floor of bricks
coated with lime mortar and a bulge, which attests the presence of the wall, to the east.
Unfortunately, an old survey carried out in this space (6) prevents us from observing
the architectural connections. This room could be interpreted as the ruined
apodyterium. A supply pipe passes underneath. If this hypothesis is correct, one could
enter, from an apodyterium to the south, into the caldarium with a small labrum in the
northwest corner, then directly to a small frigidarium. There was no tepidarium.
Dios / Iovis
18 The excavation revealed, along the southern rampart, the presence of a small well-
preserved bathhouse, installed near a series of large cisterns located in the south-
western corner of the praesidium. Its construction seems to be contemporary with the
construction of the fortlet. There are three rooms (fig. 19-20). Room 43 (5 x 3 m) has
walls constructed of blocks of sandstone bonded with mud. The ground is still paved
with large stones preserved towards the east. Access, no doubt on the side of the
cistern, is no longer preserved. This is definitely an apodyterium.
Fig. 19
191
The baths of Dios/Iovis.

© M. Reddé
Fig. 20
The baths of Dios/Iovis.

© M. Reddé
19 One goes into room 42 through a small door, 0.70 m wide, located against the rampart.
Room 42 (3 x 2.80 m) is delineated by walls of rough stones, sealed with clay. In the
north-eastern corner is a bathtub (1.95 x 1 m) constructed of fired bricks sealed with
lime mortar and carefully covered with a thin layer of white plaster. The floor of the
room is paved with bricks arranged in a herringbone pattern. It has undergone a major
renovation to the south, on the side of the rampart to allow the deep installation of a
drainage pipe whose outlet is located in the alley between the cistern and the
bathhouse.
192
20 One passes into the room 41 by another small door, about 0.60 m wide, situated against
the rampart. Room 41, which corresponds to the caldarium, includes two elements: 41a,
which constitutes a small rectangular space of 2.95 m x 1.90 m and 41b, which forms a
space of 4 m x 2.70 m, oriented perpendicularly to the other one. In elevation, the walls
are constructed of rough stones sealed with clay; below floor level, the construction
consists of fired bricks moulded using a single module (0.26 m x 0.13 m x 0.065 m).
21 Room 41a has kept its floor and its suspensura intact; it has been built along the
peripheral walls with a foundation of fired bricks forming a step towards the interior of
the room and by a row of pilae in the centre. The latter, of square form, are built with
two bricks placed side by side, over a total height of 0.63 m (9 rows of bricks). Above are
the bipedales, 0.60 cm square (thickness 0.10 m). These are in turn coated with a fine
white lime concrete. In the south-eastern corner of the room the suspensura forms a
funnel extended by a vent pipe consisting of a base of a broken amphora.
22 Lime whitewash covered the faces of the walls of room 41a. The excavation revealed
the presence of green glass window panes, one of which preserved the seal around it
for attachment to a window frame.
23 Room 41b, unlike the previous one, is ruined because of the collapse of the suspensura.
Only the traces of a bathtub made of fired bricks, at the south-western corner of the
room, are preserved. The suspensura comprises pilae, each formed of two rectangular
bricks. Many repairs can be observed both on the floor, incomplete and uneven, and in
the suspensura.
24 A particular device deserves to be noted in the eastern wall of the hypocaust, towards
the north-eastern corner. The elevation of a thin wall the thickness of a brick (0.16 m)
is pierced at two points by a square ventilation hole which emerges towards the outside
of the wall of the hypocaust. This partition is built between two brick pilae, which form
a right angle towards the east. It is probably a chimney. The fireplace, however, was not
preserved.
25 These small baths, with a total area of about 48 m2, are the largest observed to date in
praesidia of the Eastern Desert of Egypt. Their plan seems easy to reconstruct and I
suggest that room 43 was an apodyterium; room 42 a frigidarium with a bath; room 41a a
dry room, certainly warm, thus a tepidarium; and room 41b a wet warm room, a
caldarium with a bath. The whole forms an L-shaped plan, with only one entry/exit
point at one end.
Xeron Pelagos
26 The bath complex is up against the eastern curtain wall of the fort.8 It occupies a 45 m2
surface (10 m N/S x 4.50 m x E/W) and is organized from north to south into four rooms
(spaces 32-35: fig. 21, 22). Its entrance was positioned to the north, but it disappeared
into the collapsed well.
Fig. 21
193
The baths of Xeron Pelagos.

© M. Reddé / B. Redon
Fig. 22
The baths of Xeron Pelagos.

© M. Reddé
27 The walls of the bath are poorly preserved: in the frigidarium, they are made of rough
granite blocks sealed with mouna (mortar/plaster made out of clay); in the caldarium,
the interior facing of the walls is made of fired bricks, while the exterior facing of the
south wall is made of fired bricks and sometimes granite blocks sealed with mouna. All
the bricks used in the bath are of the same module: 26 x 13 x 6 cm.
28 The bath underwent several phases of operation and was abandoned before the final
abandonment of the fortlet. Some of its facilities, including the furnace, are later than
the first phase of the fortlet.
29 The northern rooms of the bath (32-33) experienced at least two construction phases.
During the second phase a north/south corridor of 2.30 x 1.80 m and a basin of 1.05 x
194
0.60 m were constructed. The two rooms are linked by a 45 cm wide door. Room 34
(3.35 x 2.25 m) is accessible from the north by a 0.55 m width door. A gap in the north-
western part of the room shows that the floor was made of an apron of fired bricks
arranged in a herringbone pattern, covered with a lime-mortar screed, which was
remade at least once.
30 The final bath room (35) is the largest of the three; it measures 2.90 m x 3.60 m and
links with room 34 by a very narrow door, barely 40 cm wide. It has a large bathtub
(1.85 x 0.75 m) completely occupying the eastern side of the room. The room was
heated by a hypocaust whose pilae, arranged regularly, are made of square bricks with
sides measuring 27/28 cm. Two slabs of suspensura are preserved to the northwest: they
are 33 cm square and 7 cm thick. The bathtub is not mounted on pilae, but rests on a
stack of granite blocks, covered with thick lime concrete, topped with an apron of fired
bricks.
31 These four very different examples show the use of architectural designs that do not
seem to belong to a unified construction programme. At Maximianon the creation of
the bath was done in a second phase, whereas it seems to have been planned from the
beginning at Didymoi. Heating is also achieved using different technologies: a calorific
supply must have come from outside the baths at Maximianon, which suggests the use
of basins of hot water for ablutions after raising the temperature of the room with
braziers, while we see the more classic device of a hypocaust at Didymoi, Dios and
Xeron Pelagos. In the latter two cases, the bathing complex is sufficient for two or
three dozen men and travellers who may have gone there. At Maximianon and
Didymoi, on the other hand, we should highlight the relatively small size of these
baths. The lack of water and scarcity of fuel must have seriously curbed the use of these
thermal complexes. Unfortunately, there is not a single ostrakon informing us about
the system of labour that managed the operation of these desert baths, contrary to
what is observed at Bu Ngem, Libya, and there is even less information on how often
they were open (Marichal 1992).
The praetorium
32 An ostrakon from Maximianon tells us that the four corners of the fort had a particular
function: the ostrakon mentions “the corner of the horreum” the “corner of the
praetorium”, the “corner of the bath”, the “corner of the pipe” for the supply of external
troughs (O. Max 783; Cuvigny et al, 2003, p. 218-219). As we know from excavations the
position of the bath and that of the horreum and the pipe, it is easy to identify the
praetorium of Maximianon, which comprises only a single room, a little larger than the
others at the north-eastern corner of the fort. However, this plan is not standard: at
Dios, we have also identified the praetorium in a corner of the fort, because of its mosaic
floors (a black and white decoration with local stone, certainly, but “luxurious” and
exceptional in the desert). This was, however, in a state of reconstruction, and we do
not know where the original building was (fig. 23). In other forts, this type of room has
never been identified to date.
Fig. 23
195
The praetorium of Dios/Iovis.

© M. Reddé
The barracks
33 The barracks from the initial phase of the fortlets are quite difficult to identify
archaeologically, since they were rebuilt in most cases. The two best examples, little
affected by alterations, are those of Maximianon and Qusûr al-Banat: the rooms are
positioned up against the curtain wall. The Maximianon plan reveals a series of regular
rooms, well built and about 6 m x 3 m, without an antechamber, along the western
rampart. Few internal developments have come to light. At Qusûr al-Banat, probably
Severan, these dormitories are smaller (about 5 m x 3.5 m) and placed against each side
of the station. There too, antechambers are missing. The room on the southwestern
corner revealed an internal partition and a bench (bed?) (fig. 24).
Fig. 24
The barracks of Qusûr al-Banat.

© M. Reddé
196
34 The three most thoroughly excavated praesidia (Didymoi, Dios, Xeron Pelagos) do not
have the same architectural regularity and their plans, at first glance, do not seem
“military” (fig. 25). This is, in fact, the result of a long evolution; many successive
alterations affected the original plan to the point of hardly leaving any remains, or
even traces. It is, therefore, impossible at present to identify the first phase, but it
seems certain that a military architect was involved. At Dios, the presence of such a
specialist is confirmed by a dedication (in Greek) of a certain M. Antonius Celer,
architect of the Cohort I of the Lusitanians, at Zeus Helios Megas Sarapis. The
inscription was discovered in a context of reuse, and we do not know, unfortunately, if
this is the unit that built the fort in 114/115, but the hypothesis is tenable (Cuvigny
2010, No. 2).
Fig. 25
The barracks of Dios/Iovis.

© M. Reddé
35 The surface levels uncovered at Dios, Didymoi and Xeron Pelagos are the latest and we
can date them at the earliest to the Severan period, given that the material found dates
to the middle of the third century. It is certain, however, that the praesidia were no
longer occupied roughly after the time of Gallienus.9 This phase is interesting because it
allows us to observe a very significant evolution in the rhythm of daily life inside these
forts. This change results in a range of phenomena that can be summarized as follows:
– proliferation of construction, with many phases of successive reconstruction, without
regular plans. The buildings are of mediocre quality.
– multiplication of bread ovens. The Dios station had an impressive number of these
(fig. 26), and many silos (fig. 27).
Fig. 26
197
The bread ovens of Dios/Iovis.

© M. Reddé
Fig. 27
Silos located to the west of the well at Dios/Iovis.

© M. Reddé
– pens for small livestock and/or poultry at Dios in the free space west of the well
(fig. 10 and 28).
Fig. 28
198
Enclosures to the west of the well at Dios/Iovis.

© M. Reddé
– in the final phases rubbish is no longer thrown outside the fort and instead it is found
in the unoccupied rooms, usually on the side opposite the entrance. At Didymoi the
excavation unearthed many layers of dumps and animal litter inside the fort, which
indicate a smaller “garrison” that no longer occupies all the space. The cisterns were
partially filled, an indication of a smaller population. The thermal baths seem to have
been abandoned.
The aedes
36 In an article based primarily on excavation data from praesidia on the Myos Hormos
route, I suggested that the military shrines were located in front of the gate against the
opposite rampart (Reddé 2004). The argument then developed was based as much on
theory as on paltry archaeological remains. This reasoning is still valid, but recent
excavations of the fortlets on the Berenike route make it necessary to qualify it and to
consider new data.
Dios/Iovis
37 Excavated at the end of the 2008 campaign by E. Botte and J.-P. Brun, the aedes of Dios
was published as a preliminary report in Chiron in 2010. H. Cuvigny wanted to edit
rapidly a series of oracular ostraka discovered during this excavation, placing them in
context (Cuvigny 2010). I rely here on her description to summarise briefly the main
elements necessary for understanding what follows, leaving the excavators to outline
further details in future publications. The following points will, therefore, be
considered:
1- The praesidium was founded in AD 114/115, evidenced by a Latin inscription found in
the passage of the gate (Cuvigny 2010, No. 1).
2- The aedes backs onto the curtain wall, on the right, after the entry passage. But there
is a secondary development that took the place of the earlier barracks. The original
sanctuary was not found, the first interior arrangements of the fort having been
199
completely restructured several times. On the other hand, two inscriptions were
recorded in front of the entrance: the first, in Greek, which mentions the architect who
built the station under Trajan, is dedicated to Zeus Helios Megas Sarapis (Cuvigny 2010,
No. 2); the second, in Latin, includes an erased name indicating a damnatio memoriae,
most likely that of Caracalla or Alexander Severus rather than Commodus (Cuvigny
2010, No. 3). It is probably at the beginning of the third century that the redevelopment
of the area took place, with a transfer of the aedes away from its original location.
3- The new sanctuary takes the place of room 49 of the fort, and measures 4.25 x 3.5 m.
It includes a series of specific facilities (fig. 29).
Fig. 29
The aedes of Dios/Iovis.

© J.-P. Brun
38 At the bottom, facing the main entrance, and up against the wall, is a wide podium,
fully preserved (L= 2.25 m x l= 0.745 x H= 1 m), built with reused bricks from baths or
cisterns and from limestone blocks, sealed with mortar. Decoration resembles an opus
sectile of soapstone and limestone slabs. Different graffiti and proskynemata adorn the
facade. This podium is connected, at the rear, by a staircase of three steps leading to a
side door in the north-eastern corner of the room (fig. 30).
Fig. 30
200
General view of the aedes of Dios/Iovis.

© J.-P. Brun
39 Excavators recorded several statues, some on the ground, others attached to the
podium itself: there is an enthroned god (Zeus Helios Megas Sarapis?), a Cerberus head
of unfired clay, the statue of a Graeco-Roman god, upright and still sealed to the
podium and the statue of a standing Egyptian god (fig. 31). Other divine
representations, which almost all refer to the cult of Sarapis are present, as well as
inscriptions and graffiti.
Fig. 31
View of the aedes of Dios/Iovis at the beginning of the excavation, with

the statues on the podium.
201
© J.-P. Brun
40 The top of the podium went through several phases of remodelling: at first, it seems to
have been flat, but perhaps hosting some of the above mentioned statues; in a second
phase, the surface appears to have been reworked with a mortar aggregate, which still
seals the foot of one of the statues and four wooden uprights (6 to 7 cm x 3 cm) which
form a square framing a hole in the podium (fig. 32). After a violent episode of
destruction, which occurred in a third phase, the podium was restored with reused
materials, and at the time of discovery, still had, from north to south, an oil lamp, the
knees of the seated statue of Sarapis (?) and the statue sealed on the top. Behind it, a
small statuette of Jupiter holding a bolt of lightning was discovered. At this point the
passage to the side door was completely blocked, and a fired brick construction added
on the northern side of the podium. The staircase, now useless, contained a filling of
sand and rubble where the oracular ostraka were found (Cuvigny 2010). At the southern
end of the podium, there was a sort of tabernacle opening towards the exterior on top
of the repairs on the podium (fig. 32).
Fig. 32
The podium of the aedes of Dios/Iovis under excavation. The hole for the
vexillum is in front of the hand of the worker. In the foreground, the
tabernacle of the last phase.
© J.-P. Brun
41 In front of the podium, the room was, in its initial phase, decorated with a black and
white pavement of mosaics (shale and quartz) forming different geometric patterns: a
checkerboard on one half of the room, beyond the door, a floor uniformly white in the
202
part located in front of the podium, with a black frame surrounding it, in the axis, and a
white centre.
42 From both sides of this framework appear two square bases of fired, whitewashed
bricks, resting on the mosaic. At the foot of the podium in the centre axis is a third,
smaller square cube.
43 This space had several successive refurbishments: in a second phase two “pools” were
inserted, placed on the mosaic floor, along the northern wall. These basins probably
received containers whose traces can be seen as depressions in the ground. The closest
podium blocked the passage to the side door and the stairs behind the altar. In a third
phase, a floor of fired bricks covered the mosaic and basins, now hiding the central
cube No. 10 (fig. 33).
Fig. 33
View of the aedes of Dios/Iovis, with two superimposed floor phases.

© J.-P. Brun
44 Details of these changes cannot be accurately dated, but must fall within the third
century, as we noted that these fortlets do not seem to have any material from the
fourth century, except sporadic finds indicating the limited use of the track but not a
permanent occupation.
45 The existence of a podium in a military aedes has already been discussed several times
in the scholarly literature, due to various finds which T. Sarnowski listed and that
should now be updated (Sarnowski 1992, note 9): the author cited Castell Collen (Nash-
Williams 1969, p. 159), Caerleon (Arch Cambrensis 1970 p. 14, fig. 2), Chesterholm (Birley
et al. 1936, p. 229), Risingham (Richmond 1940, p. 110) and Aalen (Planck 1984, p. 22).
The best preserved example architecturally is that of the fire station at Ostia, which
has, as at Dios, stairs with lateral access (Sablayrolles 1988, fig. 4). This is also the case
in Risingham and we know that this architectural feature was still in place in the Lejjun
legionary camp (Jordan) during late antiquity. Here, as in Caerleon, the podium also
runs along the sides of the room, and is serviced by both a side staircase and a central
staircase in front of the apse (Parker 2006, Fig. 4.5 A). In the case of Novae, T. Sarnowski
suggested the hypothesis of a wooden platform, traces of which exist on the ground
203
(Sarnowski 1992, p. 226), and it is possible that such devices were common, but often
missed by previous researches. This may be the type of element that Tacitus refers to in
a frequently quoted passage that tells us about the advent of Otho, placed in suggestu in
the middle of insignia of the castra praetoria, the very place where the gilded statue of
Galba was previously located (Hist. I, 36). The exact interpretation of this passage
remains controversial because it is linked to the idea that this is due to the presence of
the imperial statues in the principia and especially in the aedes since the beginning of
the principate (Stoll 1992).
46 How do we explain the presence of brick cubes in front of the podium at the fortlet of
Dios/Iovis? The central one, smaller than the other two, cannot have had the same
architectural features as the others. It is difficult to estimate the height of the pillars
standing on these three cubes. The most likely solution is that the central one was an
altar. We can now safely suggest that the other two were column supports. But two
isolated columns have little meaning; so I think that on top of the podium there was a
canopy resting on one side of the columns and on the other side on the corbels of the
rampart, even on a simple system of beams fixed to the wall and resting on the
columns, at the front. A recently discovered inscription found in Alba Iulia gives weight
to this hypothesis, as it mentions the construction of a tetrastylum with a silver eagle by
a centurion of legio XIII Gemina (Moga, Piso, Drîmbarean 2008). Later on, a similar device
was found in the Tetrarchic camp at Luxor, in the former shrine of the Royal Ka which
became the military aedes of the new legio III Diocletiana (Reddé 1986). I have suggested
elsewhere, contrary to the initial opinion of the editors and relying only on the case of
Dios, that the tetrastylum of Alba Iulia was built to house the new insignia installed in
place of the previous one (Reddé 2011).
47 Was there, by analogy based on what we know of all these buildings, an insignia in the
praesidium de Dios/Iovis? Common sense suggests so, because we cannot imagine a
station of the Roman army, even in the middle of the Eastern Desert of Egypt and even
partially populated by civilians, without a signum, but clearly it could not be a legionary
eagle. For a small detachment like that of the fortlets, a vexillum was enough. The study
of the recently discovered insignia collected by K. Töpfer with a comprehensive
iconography provides extensive research, though much of the documentation, never
previously summarised, was already well known to specialists (Töpfer 2011). When they
did not accompany the troops, vexilla, such as eagles, were indeed fixed to pedestals, as
shown on the sarcophagus of Matteoti of Modena (Toepfer, 2011, pl. 103, SD 49). Two
iconographic representations from Hadrian's Wall, one from Corbridge, and the other
from Vindolanda (Töpfer 2011, pl. 121, RE 13 and pl. 122, RE 21) also show vexilla framed
by two columns (fig. 34): it could not be closer to the reconstruction that I have
suggested for the aedes of Dios/Iovis.
Fig. 34
204
The Corbridge plate (= RIB 1710, drawing M. Reddé, after Töpfer 2011,
p. 122, RE 21).
© M. Reddé
48 Was there a place on the podium of this praesidium, for such an insignia? The
Vindolanda plaque shows that the vexillum is implanted into a sort of box, probably of
wood, which props it up. We have exactly the same device at Dios since four wood studs
surrounding a hole in the podium were found. H. Cuvigny thinks this was a device for
fixing a statue of Sarapis. I, however, think this was the place where the vexillum was
fixed.
49 The presence of statues on a podium, including divine statues, or altars in no way
contradicts the hypothesis of a military aedes such as those known in other camps from
the West. Once again the investigation conducted by T. Sarnowski is enlightening and I
refer to his table 5 which shows, even in the aedes, the presence of different dii militares
or even local gods (Sarnowski 1989). It is associated, of course, with that of Jupiter,
supreme God of the army, and a representation of the reigning Emperor, usually in a
small format (Sarnowski 1989; Stoll 1992; Reddé 2004).
Didymoi
50 At Didymoi the aedes was also moved, probably at a late date (during the third century)
and installed in a location of the fort where we would not expect to find it, on the site
of former barracks. Only a segment of an apse, useless and destroyed by
refurbishments, exists from the earlier phase, along the curtain wall which faces the
entry (fig. 35).
Fig. 35
205
The apse of Didymoi, probable vestige of the first aedes of Didymoi.

© M. Reddé
51 The new sanctuary is not precisely dated, but J.-P. Brun placed construction of the
building after the reign of Marcus Aurelius. It has revealed evidence of a device that
demonstrates a cult to Sarapis amid more strictly military images (Brun in Cuvigny et al.
2011, p. 33-47). The aedes located in the northwest corner of the station had three
quadrangular niches inserted into the bottom wall, with benches along the side walls
and an altar outside it (fig. 36-37). Such a device is reminiscent of those found in
Maximianon and Qusûr al-Banat (Reddé 2004) (fig. 38). Painted decoration was still
visible under the south niche, probably featuring a line of soldiers marching to the
right, as known from the shrine of the imperial cult in the Tetrarchic temple of Luxor
(Deckers 1979; Reddé 1986 pl. XXII). A soapstone slab found on the ground shows an
armoured cavalryman overlapping to the right, perhaps one of the Dioscuri (fig. 39).
Remnants of lorica squamata were unearthed in this context. Other objects seem clearly
linked to the cult of Sarapis. This is the case of a stone head (fig. 40), fragments of a
terracotta statuette probably representing the god standing, a sphinx, a painting
perhaps representing Harpocrates, and two offering tables of a traditional Egyptian
type. In a lateral space located immediately east of the niches in the background, a
secondary place of worship with a cupule was fitted in a later phase (fig. 41).
Fig. 36
206
General view of the aedes of Didymoi.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 37
View of the bottom wall of the aedes of Didymoi.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 38
207
Fragment of painted coating depicting soldiers in arms walking to the

right.
© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 39
Soapstone low relief showing a cuirassed rider (Dioscurus?) straddling to

the right.
© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 40
208
Head of Sarapis from the aedes of Didymoi.

© J.-P. Brun
Fig. 41
Secondary altar in the aedes of Didymoi.

© J.-P. Brun
Xeron Pelagos
52 I identify a room located along the south-western curtain wall of fort as an aedes
(fig. 42-43). It measures about 5.20 x 2.60 m and occupies a previous room that was
refurbished and raised. The room abuts the rampart, slightly formed in the shape of a
niche. The entrance is to the northwest. It is reached by a small staircase which gives
access to an L-shaped corridor paved with slabs of shale (fig. 43) that runs along the
wall and leads at the bottom, near the rampart, to a square hollow loculus. The northern
side of the passage is bordered by a basin (fig. 42c) and a small open area on the
209
corridor (fig. 42d). North-west of the loculus (a), against the wall, a raised niche (b) tops
a basin (c).
Fig. 42
Plan of the aedes of Xeron Pelagos.

© M. Reddé
Fig. 43
General view of the aedes of Xeron Pelagos.

© M. Reddé
53 The loculus (a) consists of four low walls of unfired bricks, 20/24 cm wide, forming a
quasi-square (1.10 x 1.20 m), partially embedded in the rampart (fig. 44). These smooth
low walls are carefully coated in white, inside and out. The western, southern and
eastern walls are broken in elevation, while the low northern wall is intact, as
evidenced by the coating that covers its upper edge and the wooden threshold is still
visible. Given that this threshold is significantly lower than the perimeter walls, we can
210
envisage that a wooden door closed the space. The base is also coated with lime mortar,
but one sees, in the centre, the circular traces of a sealant. The fill included:
– a terracotta headless Minerva (h. preserved to 12.5 cm l. preserved to 9.5 cm). The
statuette is hollow, with black and red highlights on a white background (fig. 45). The
left forearm, holding the shield, is broken. The right hand, disproportionate, holds a
spear. The goddess wears the Gorgon on her breast. An ostrakon found right next to it
mentions the existence of an Athenadion and we know from other ostraka that the genius
loci of Xeron was Athena.
– a fragment of the handle of an amphora reworked as an incense burner. Incense
remains are still preserved on top.
Fig. 44
Extremity of the sanctuary near the ramparts of Xeron Pelagos: top of

the staircase adorned by a “mosaic” pavement.
© M. Reddé
Fig. 45
211
Statuette of Minerva discovered in the rubble of the aedes of Xeron

Pelagos.
© M. Reddé
54 Access to this space has been altered on several successive occasions:

– in a first phase, the corridor (e) terminates in a square space coated in lime mortar.
– in a second phase, this space is divided into two and a step that provides more
convenient access to the loculus (a) is added.
– in a third phase, the entire space is raised and a platform is built, whose northern
part is decorated with a “mosaic” of white (quartz) and black (shale) tesserae, and shale
slabs. Between the mosaic and the loculus (a) is a platform about 40 cm deep (fig. 44).
The last layer of the corridor shows a sandy elevation, hardened and trampled.
55 East of the access stairway, fitted one inside the other, are two wine amphorae which
form a wide discharge pipe (fig. 46). It passes through the north wall of room 38, and
leads to a small channel dug in the soil that drains water to the north, where we lose
sight of it. Sixty cm before the beginning of this staircase a block of fired bricks,
recovered from the bath or the adjacent cistern, appears, in the form of a 50 cm sided
cube, with a height of 0.14 m.
Fig. 46
212
System of drainage, on both sides of the steps, and altar of the aedes of
Xeron Pelagos.
© M. Reddé
56 For interpreting such an assemblage, for which I know no parallel either in the West or
in the East, we must consider several factors:
– Although the praesidium of Xeron has been extensively excavated, we are not aware of
any other aedes there, while all the other stations have a religious space from the
beginning.
– The room just described could be neither a barracks nor a storage space or workshop,
because of its internal arrangements. No function other than a religious one seems to
fit.
– This is a construction made at an advanced stage of the life of the fort, not an initial
construction of the station, as is the case with other examples on this road.
57 I, therefore, suggest identifying it as the aedes of the praesidium. The cube, in front of
the stairs, could be an altar (or the support of an altar). The existence of external altars
for the aedes has been observed at Didymoi (supra). It is then entered by a little
staircase, before going into the tiled hallway leading at the bottom to the loculus (a),
access to which was marked by steps (then with a mosaic). This loculus was closed, on
the side of the corridor, by a shutter (or a wooden door) opening at mid-height. The
interior includes traces sealant that could have been for a pillar or something else.
Given Roman religious practices, it seems unlikely to have been for a statue. However
the device could match that of an arca, supporting a podium for the signa. This is a
preliminary hypothesis that needs to be supported by further studies. The basin (c)
may find parallels in the aedes of Dios where basins were also found. The need to
evacuate liquid is certainly proven by the apparatus seen along the stairs. The presence
of a statuette of Athena, genius loci of Xeron reinforces this assumption.
58 These various findings raise a number of issues:
– It is the first time to our knowledge that topographic deplacement of the aedes has
been documented in military camps. Although we do not know archaeologically the
location of the original shrine, it was not present amongst the features we excavated.
213
– In Egypt, assimilation between Zeus, Helios and Sarapis has obviously led to a shift
away from “classic” military religion, as we know it from western literature
(Domaszewski 1895; Birley 1978). One of the main questions we must ask concerns the
date of this shift: is it the result of a late evolution, after the Severan period, or the
consequence of a local particularism, due to the Egyptian situation and the fact that
these stations were not only occupied by soldiers?
– The Jupiter honoured at Dios is not a purely Roman god, since it is a Zeus Helios
Megas Sarapis (Cuvigny 2010, No. 2), and in fact, all the artefacts found in the aedes and
the oracular practices point to a cult of Sarapis, which could, in principle, cast doubt on
the purely military interpretation of the plan uncovered. Is it, therefore, a Roman
sanctuary? A temple of Sarapis? Or both?
59 G. Tallet recently proposed that the figure of Zeus Helios Megas Sarapis was an
Egyptian god created in an Alexandrian milieu for the Romans, notably the soldiers.
The author shows that the distribution of this new divine entity is actually linked to the
network of military garrisons and probably began under Trajan (Tallet 2011). The
diffusion of Egyptian cults in the military camps is yet more ancient, even in western
garrisons, and I have reported elsewhere that it can be found in the Rhineland from the
time of Nero (Reddé 2014). It finds parallel in the East, as shown by O. Stoll’s
comprehensive investigation (Stoll 2001). Thus, in the oasis of Jawf, where the presence
of soldiers is well documented, there is a dedication pro salute domm(inorum)
nn(ostrorum) (duorum) I(ovi) O(ptimo) M(aximo) Hammoni and sancto Sulmo (Speidel 1984).
Dedicated by a centurion of the III Cyrenaica, the inscription dates to the Severans.
Around the same time, even at Bostra, a cornicularius engraved his wish to Io(ui) Op(timo)
Max(imo) Genio Sancto Hammoni (AE 1952, 248). At Sûr, in the Lejaa region, a tabula ansata
bears a dedication Iovi Hammoni, written by a questionario (CIL III 13604). This type of
divine association has become so ordinary in the third century army that a papyrus
from Dura indicates that the password of the day (May 27-28, AD 239) is Iupiter
Dolichenus. We should remember that this religious contamination in the Eastern army
is ancient, since, on the morning of the second day of the Battle of Bedriacum, in AD 69,
soldiers of the legio III Gallica greeted the rising sun Syrian style: “Undique clamor, et
orientem solem ita in Syria mos est tertiani salutauere” wrote Tacitus, Hist. III, 24. This
custom is again confirmed by Dion Cassius (64.14, 3) and Herodian (IV, 15). As noted
rightly by R. Haensch, the legionaries were still, at that time, from a typically Roman
setting, probably colonial.10 One could multiply the examples. Above all, and this is one
of the strong points of O. Stoll's argument, which here meets the opinion of ND Pollard,
there is no reason to consider the military and civil religious spheres as radically
separate , their relations oscillating permanently between “Integration” and
“Abgrenzung”, particularly in the East (Pollard 1996; Stoll 2001).
60 The very fact that the honoured deity in the praesidium of Dios is Zeus Helios Megas
Sarapis does not make it a foreign god in a Roman military environment and should not
lead us to believe that the cultic arrangements observed in this aedes did not meet the
ordinary religious practices of the camps. All facilities uncovered find parallels in
western contexts, justifying that the shrine at the station of Didymoi on the same road
from Coptos to Berenike, is qualified as πρινκίπια τῶν κυρίων that can be decorated
with garlands for a celebration that is probably within the Roman religious calendar
(Cuvigny 2012, No. 31, s. 5). It should not be forgotten that the deity of the place was
also Sarapis to whom one could come to look into the future during oracular practices
214
well attested by ostraka11 (Cuvigny 2010). It is only in modern minds that these
different religious practices radically exclude one another. At Didymoi the facilities are
much closer to a classic Serapeum, even if decorated with a painting that shows a line
of armed soldiers and a shale slab with one of the Dioscuri in military costume.
61 The discovery of Xeron Pelagos is a problem of a different order. Does the presence of
Athena in this aedes suggest that this goddess has tutelary power in the camp, instead
of Jupiter, which would be an absolute novelty in a military milieu? Certainly the
Roman Minerva is actually part of militares dii and is often attested epigraphically in the
camps, but she never takes the lead role (Domaszewski 1895; Birley 1978). Her presence
in the aedes of Xeron Pelagos is not incongruous, but she could only be seen here as an
associated deity, probably the genius loci.
62 The good state of preservation of these praesidia is not only instructive for our
knowledge of the local religious community; we also learn a lot about the general
evolution of cultural practices within the Roman army in Egypt in the course of third
century.
Conclusion
63 These brief reflections show the usefulness of the documentation of the Eastern Desert
of Egypt for our understanding of these types of small forts, which are very poorly
documented in the West. One should not, however, generalize too quickly conclusions
that can be drawn from studying them: we noted that their architecture was linked to
their local function and that the stations of the quarries could have other
characteristics. A broader study, extended to the Levant, thus in a different
geographical and cultural environment, would certainly show other types (Poidebard
1934; Gregory 1995-1997). This diversity of architectural, cultural and religious
practices in a military environment is particularly evident in the East. It also tends to
relativize our often “normative” view of the Roman army.
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FOOTNOTES
1. This text brings together various recent articles, somewhat scattered and difficult to access
(Reddé 2009, 2014, 2015 a, b, c).
2. See the famous “Tariff of Koptos”, OGIS 674= I. Portes 67.
3. Van Rengen 1992= O.Claud. 48-82.
4. We leave apart the Ptolemaic phrouria, which constitutes a very particular case.
5. That of Samut has been excavated by the French team directed B. Redon. See Redon in this
publication.
6. See discussion in Cuvigny et al. 2003, p. 267-273.
7. Funded by the Institut français d’archéologie orientale (IFAO) and the ministère des Affaires
étrangères.
8. I summarize here the joint report of B. Redon and myself written after the excavation 2011.
The detailed publication of the whole will be done by B. Redon.
9. See Brun 2018.
10. Haensch 2003, pp. 192-200.
11. The way in which these oracular practices unfolded is not clear. The presence of the
staircase on the side of the podium is not, as has been said, exceptional, and cannot be regarded
as a specific device for oracular practice, although it may have favoured it. The unresolved
question is whether these oracular practices began as soon as the new sanctuary was transferred
to its present place, which is the opinion of H. Cuvigny, since she considers that the ostraka
discovered constitute a scrap mixed with sand and probably go back to the first era of the
construction of the new shrine. An objection could be that oracular practices presuppose the
presence of a priest in a hidden place and that this can only have happened when the passage to
the side door and the staircase were hidden by a blockage. Otherwise, the deceit would have been
too great. In this connection, I wonder whether the sort of tabernacle at the southern end of the
podium, which in my opinion is from the last phase, was not used to deposit the petitions of the
devotees: a mere hypothesis. Nor is it impossible that a liturgical device (curtain?) escapes us.
AUTHOR
Michel Reddé
Director of Studies, ANHIMA, UMR 8210, École pratique des hautes études
218
Quarries with Subtitles

1 What are the advantages of finding texts when you are studying a Roman quarry? Well,
this should be obvious, but let us nevertheless ask the question: what exactly do we
learn about the function of a given quarry that we would otherwise not know?
2 First, what do I mean by texts? Most quarries have delivered inscriptions, but I shall
first of all talk about more ephemeral writings, which could be on papyrus, but in fact
are nearly always on ostraka. By quarry, in this context, I mean the larger, often
imperial quarries. This needs to be specified, since everywhere we find small, local
quarries that have served e.g. to build the nearby fort –often regardless of the quality
of the stone.
3 Of course, what I know best is Mons Claudianus, (Fig. 1) but I shall also touch on the
small quarry at Umm Balad on which I am working at the moment. The about
700 ostraka from Porphyrites should be interesting in this context also, but they are
not published yet.
Fig. 1
219
The fortified camp at Mons Claudianus during the first excavation

campaign in 1987.
4 For comparison, I have chosen the imperial marble quarries at Docimium in Turkey,1
where I have not been, and those at Simitthus in Tunisia2 which I have seen for myself.
5 As sources to how quarries functioned we have, of course, first of all the archaeology,
not least the tool-marks on the stone which tell us which tools were used and generally
how the quarrying was done.
6 As for writing, most quarries deliver inscriptions of the more or less monumental kind,
e.g. a founding inscription over the gate of the fortified camp. This will mostly tell us
when the enterprise was begun or a significant change took place. We have such
inscriptions from Mons Claudianus and from Umm Balad, though in both cases they are
broken to such a degree that they are almost useless. Other inscriptions may
commemorate the founding of temples, altars, wells or the like. Such inscriptions are
known both from Mons Claudianus, from Porphyrites and from Simitthus. From
Docimium we have only quarrymarks since the quarries are much disturbed by modern
work.
7 Quarrymarks are found in nearly all quarries. They are short, almost coded messages
cut into the detached blocks or into the bedrock and serve a number of purposes. Those
written on the bedrock itself will often contain the name of the quarry, or rather the
individual work-face. Those written on the detached blocks mostly tell us whether the
block in question has been approved (or rejected), perhaps where it was quarried,
sometimes a date. Often there are numbers which we can for the most part not
understand. Here there are differences between the quarries that I take into
consideration. First of all, the Egyptian quarries are in the Greek speaking part of the
empire, or at least mostly Greek speaking. Simitthus, in the province of Africa was
wholly Latin speaking. In Docimium, perhaps surprisingly, the quarry-marks are in
Latin.
8 In both Mons Porphyrites and Mons Claudianus the quarry-marks show a mixture of
Greek and Latin. Neither are properly published. I have a list of those from Porphyrites
given to me by the excavators. The somewhat disastrous publication of the quarry-
marks from Mons Claudianus3 is the result of a misunderstanding between the editors:
Peacock thought that the provisional list was a finished publication and proceeded to
publish it without the benefit of a Greek typeface. The result is all but useless, not least
because the marks are in a mixture of Greek and Latin.
9 As for the quarry-marks from Porphyrites,4 they are different from anything else I have
seen. The sequence ΤΡΦ is seen several times. It must be Greek, but I have no idea what
it means. The sequence RPP must be Latin and is seen once in Porphyrites. I have found
it again on a stray block at Umm Balad.5 If we take it to mean R(atio) P(orphyritica)
P(robat-)6 it could be evidence that Umm Balad was part of the same administrative
unit as the nearby Porphyrites, which would not in itself be surprising. This would take
us to the sequence RACLP which is seen so often at Mons Claudianus and which might
then mean RA(tio) CL(audiana) P(robat-) (Fig. 2-4).
Fig. 2
220
Porphyrites. An example of the ΤΡΦ quarry-mark on a block in the

foreground. The meaning os obscure.
Fig. 3
Unpublished quarry-mark from Umm Balad. Where the road continues

from the camp into the wâdi of the quarries it rapidly disappears,
destroyed by the water. After the first interruption vague traces of it
reappear and here we come upon an area with a number of blocks of the
dark granite that have clearly been worked, among them one inscribed: R
P P in letters c. 8 cm high. Comparing the frequent inscription RACLP,
221
RCP or the like from Mons Claudianus, where the C or CL must stand for
Claudian-, and the RPP found once on Mons Porphyrites (Quarry 2 in
Lykabettos) it seems clear that the 2nd P must stand for Porphyrit-
whatever the ending was. The R could mean ratio and the last P probat-,
but this is far from certain. This is the only quarry-inscription that has
been found by Umm Balad. The blocks are worked, some dressed with a
point others with a hammer and the ground is covered with chips from
hammer-dressing. What happened here? Presumably a wagon with
approved blocks broke down on its way out of the wâdi and it was
attempted to reduce the blocks to a smaller size.
Fig. 4
Mons Claudianus. RACLP cf. Fig. 3. This quarry-mark is found on a

discarded block on the loading-ramp at the end of the Pillar wâdi. Not
recorded in Peacock-Maxfield.
10 In the quarry of Umm Balad there is a remarkable absence of quarry-marks except for
the RPP already mentioned. Unlike Mons Claudianus there is no storage area for
approved, but not yet exported blocks, so the search for quarry-marks was carried out
on the failed blocks that lie around in the quarry, and it is therefore not surprising that
there are no marks of approval. Since only one quarry appears to have been active,
there was no need to indicate provenance either.
11 Is all this useful to the understanding of the organisation of quarries? Can it show us
anything about the lay-out of the quarries and the order in which they were exploited?
Well, as so often: Yes and No – it depends. Let me try to be a little clearer. In Docimium,
as far as I understand, the quarries are still worked and the modern work has almost
totally destroyed the traces of the lay-out of the Roman quarries. But the quarry-marks
that are found on detached and discarded blocks show us the following designations
officina, bracchium, locus, caesura, and ratio. I will not go into the discussion about the
222
meaning of these terms and their hierarchy. Some may have been administrative units,
while others probably had a precise topographical meaning.
12 In Simitthus, a similar system appears to have been used. The term bracchium is absent
which may or may not be accidental, but we find officina, locus, caesura, and ratio. Even
though the Simitthus-quarries are less destroyed by modern working, it is not possible
to get a clear idea of what they looked like in Roman times, but at least the terminology
tells us that the topographical organisation was similar.
13 In Mons Claudianus we have ample evidence, both of the ancient lay-out and of the
topographical system in use. There has been little modern quarrying, and what there
has been took place after we had had a first look around. Also, and this is important,
the stone is not marble, but granite –or whatever more precise name it is given by the
geologists. Where marble can be excavated both by wedging and by trenching –
nowadays even by sawing with a steel wire– granite had to be wedged off. The
exploitation at Mons Claudianus never goes deep, but mostly just takes off the first
layer or two of useful stone. (Mons Claudianus Fig. 5-8) (Simitthus Fig. 9-14)
Fig. 5
Mons Claudianus. A whole wall has been squared off with a series of
wedgings.
Fig. 6
223
Mons Claudianus. Unsuccessful attempts at wedging.

Fig. 7

Fig. 8
224

Fig. 9
Simitthus. Traces of ancient wedging of marble.

Fig. 10
225
Simitthus. Traces of ancient wedging of marble.

Fig. 11
Simitthus. Like on Fig. 5 a wall has been squared off, but here using a
pick-axe leaving the typical festoon marks.
Fig. 12
226
Simithus. Wall squared off partly with the pick-axe, partly perhaps with
the point. Note how some marks are curved from the pick-axe, others are
straight showing the use of the point.
Fig. 13
Simitthus. Traces of modern sawing with a steel-wire.

Fig. 14
227
Simitthus. Note how the works-faces have a tendency to recede towards

the bottom. This is the result of working with a pick-axe. Marble-
quarries can go much deeper and have a tendency to obilterate earlier
workfaces.
14 So, in Mons Claudianus we have many original work-faces –Peacock identified 130–7
and we know that they were individually called λατομίαι and given names. There does
not seem to have been any subdivision. We also find the term κοπή and it is almost
irresistible to take this as the equivalent of the Latin caesura. κοπή seems, like caesura,
to have been an administrative term, not a topographical one. The same would be true
of ratio or ex ratione which presumably meant ‘account’.
15 Whatever I have said so far would concern the titles. Now let us take a look at what we
might call the subtitles. By this, of course, I mean the ostraka which are a unique
feature of the Egyptian quarries. Mons Claudianus has been extremely productive in
this respect and has delivered over 9000, of which some 250 are directly relevant to the
quarrying and have been published in Ostraca Claudiana 4.8 Umm Balad has given some
1100 on which I am working at present. I can already reveal that they contain little
about the actual quarrying. From Porphyrites we have about 700 that have not been
published yet.
16 Most of what the 9000 ostraka from Mons Claudianus tells us is of course seen from a
frog-eye perspective, but there are a few that really tell us something important, seen
from a slightly higher point of view, that we would never learn from inscriptions or
other types of evidence.
17 One is the general list of water distribution that Hélène Cuvigny published in Chiron 35
in 2005. (Fig. 15) It concerns a given day while the quarries were in full activity,
228
probably while the columns for the Forum Traiani and the Basilica Ulpia were being
extracted during the first decade of the second century. It is a list for one day of the
distribution of water and gives us the exact numbers within each category of workers
that were employed in the quarries and one counts a staggering 917 people of whom 60
only were military.
Fig. 15
O.Claud. inv. 1538+2921, cf. Cuvigny H., “L'organigramme du personnel

d'une carrière impériale d'après un ostracon du Mons Claudianus”,
Chiron 35 (2005) pp. 309-353.
18 The other 857 were civilians, ranging from the architect to the lowliest water-carrier.
We learn that there were also doctors, veterinarians, barbers, and cobblers. We also
learn that there were two kinds of workers in almost equal numbers, the pagani, i.e. the
native, paid, skilled workers, mainly employed as stone-masons and smiths. Another
group, almost as big, are those of the familia who mostly did unskilled work, carrying
water, and so forth. The interest of this text is of course that it tells us how much water
people got, namely between 6,5 litres for the highest ranks down to 3,25 litres for
stonemasons and 2,16 litres for the unskilled, which is surprisingly little seen from our
point of view, but corresponds rather well with what we know about the British forces
in North Africa during the Second World War: 2 pints= 1,136 litres per man per day in
the fighting units and, for those behind the front-line, between 4,5 and 6,8 litres per
day for everything except the radiators of the vehicles, a problem the ancients did not
have.9
Mons Claudianus British army WWII WHO recommendations
229
Max. 6,5 l (1 κεράμιον)

soldier 5,4 l behind the front 4,5-6,8 l 20 liters/day, incl. hygiene and food preparation
recruits, pagani 3,25 l fighting soldier 1,136 l minimum 7,5 l

familia 2,16 l
19 The third column shows recommendations of the World Health Organisation, which are
a lot higher. The real importance of the text is, however, that it tells us about numbers
and categories of workers and gives us several names of quarries to compare with list of
workers and quarries from other ostraka.
20 Another text that gives us a slightly higher perspective is O.Claud IV 841, a stock-list of
stone-blocks that were available around AD 150 (Fig. 16). The handwriting belongs to
one Palaïs, about whom we do not know much, except that he was involved in the
counting of stones.10 I think this big ostracon looks as if it was his ‘clip-board’ on which
he noted down what he found when he made a tour of inspection through the quarries.
As you can see, the writing is distributed into irregular groups, and the colour of the
ink varies. I imagine that this list was afterwards copied on papyrus in some more
legible form, and perhaps even sent to Rome.
Fig. 16
O.Claud. IV 888. The passage that is discussed in detail is on the right-

hand side of the left one of the two non-joining fragments
21 At this time the quarries at Mons Claudianus had been in use for about fifty years as
imperial quarries and had delivered blocks and especially columns to order, for a
number of imperial buildings in Rome, as Trajan’s Forum, Hadrian’s reconstruction of
the Pantheon, his villa in Tibur, and the Temple of Venus and Rome. Each of these
projects had demanded a number of monolithic columns of a certain size and there
would inevitably have been quite a lot of blocks lying around that were perfectly
useable, but did not correspond to any measurements that had been ordered. If the
stone had been marble, I suppose that these blocks would have been taken to Rome and
stored in the marble yard, but this is granite, and the transportation was probably
230
more expensive than the stone itself, so the stones were left in place until somebody
wanted them. Let us look at one entry in the list: at the top of this image we read κοπ(ὴ)
Ἐπαφροδ(ίτου). As already said, I believe that κοπή is the Greek for caesura and could
mean ‘share’. Epaphroditos is interesting. His name occurs in several contexts in the
quarry, both on blocks and on rock-faces, and first of all in the architrave of the temple
(I.Pan 42) and equally at Mons Porphyrites (I.Pan 21). In wâdi al-Hammâmât we find his
name on a rock-face. In the two temple inscriptions from Claudianus and Porphyrites
he describes himself as an imperial slave and μισθωτὴς τῶν μετάλλων, i.e. farmer of
the mines and quarries. These inscriptions must date from the revival of the quarries at
the beginning of the reign of Hadrian, after the Jewish revolt. So here he is again, about
thirty years later. Was he still involved in the quarrying? I doubt it, but his name was
apparently still attached to some blocks. Underneath is written λατο(μία) Διον(ύσου), a
quarry that is attested in several lists, but we do not know which one it was. Under this
are four items, each preceded by a check-mark after which follows an N with a line
above. This probably means ‘an approved/useable item’. At the time when I made the
edition I thought it meant νόμαιος ‘approved, regular’, but perhaps it rather means
numerus. It is often seen on the blocks as well and is followed by a figure. Here the four
items are number 47, 49, 86 and 85. Then follows in each case αργ( ) which must mean
ἀργός ‘idle’ followed by measurements in three dimensions. The next post on the list is
ἐν ὁδῷ χαμουλκοῦ ‘the road of the sledge’. This could be, but does not have to be, the
road that leads along the Pillar wâdi down to the great loading ramp (Fig. 17) In any
case, our man with his clip-board is clearly walking around the quarries and often
positions them in relation to the praesidium.
Fig. 17
The so-called Pillar wâdi with the road that might be the ὁδὸς
χαμουλκοῦ mentioned in O.Claud 888. The areas on either side of the road
have been used for storing useable blocks.
231
22 To make a long story short, this inventory shows us that the basic unit was the λατομία,
the quarry, and gives us the tantalising impression that we could almost follow in
Palaïs’ foot-steps and perhaps even identify some of the blocks that he inventoried.
23 The third thing that we learn from the ostraka and nowhere else is the importance of
steel. Ordinary iron is too soft to make much of an impression on granite, so quarry-
tools were fitted with a steel-tip or edge which was welded on. Forge-welding demands
higher temperatures than were obtained in the forges next to the quarries where the
tools were regularly sharpened by re-forging. When a point has been used and re-
sharpened a certain number of times, the steel-tip is worn away and has to be replaced
which was done in the στομωτήριον.11 Not a single tool has been found at Mons
Claudianus, and even if we had some, they would be corroded and the hardness
measuring would be unreliable. But now that we know that this method was used we
have the explanation why the slag in Quarry 92 shows that temperatures obtained
there, contrary to the small forges in the quarries, would have permitted welding.12 I
am fairly certain that this identifies the forge in quarry 92 as the stomoterion.
24 These are just a few examples of what we learn from the ostraka about life and work in
the quarries. I hope they will serve to convince archaeologists to dig for ostraka in the
dung-heaps next time they excavate in a Roman quarry.
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der Veen (ed.), Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers, New York.
FOOTNOTES
1. . Fant 1989.
2. . Rakob 1993.
3. . Peacock & Maxfield 1997, pp. 216-232.
4. The list of these quarry marks has been given to me by the excavators.
5. . See Fig. 3
6. . The gender of P(robat-) depends on the hypothetical word on which it depends. Lapis is the
most likely equivalent of λίθος which appears to have been the common word for ‘a roughed out
block of stone’, cf. e.g. O.Claud IV 885, 5 τοὺς ἀποκειμένους ἐν τῷ μετάλλῳ λίθους.
7. . See the plan with numbers in Peacock-Maxfield 1997, Fig. 1.2, reproduced in O.Claud. IV p. 10.
8. . Bülow-Jacobsen 2009.
9. . See Fennell 2011, p. 132; Bortwick 1990, 3-1 and 3-2, which deal with British rations. For a
summary of all these references I thank my friend Paul John Frandsen. A longer and more
complicated analysis can be found at http://www.who.int/water_sanitation_health/dwq/
nutwaterrequir.pdf.
10. . He is identified by his handwriting which is known from O.Claud. 888.
11. . See O.Claud. IV pp. 257-259 where literature is quoted. See also Bülow-Jacobsen 2016.
Steeling edges of weapons is attested in the literature, but never, to my knowledge, shown
convincingly by hardness measurements on archaeological artefacts.
12. . See Ian Freestone in Peacock, Maxfield 1997, pp. 246-251.
AUTHOR
Papyrologist, former professor of the Carlsberg Foundation
235
236
Some Topographical Problems

around Myos Hormos: Philotera-
Philoteris
Wilfried Van Rengen
1 The topographical issues discussed in this article are a result of the discovery of about
800 ostraka, mainly Greek, during the excavations by the University of Southampton at
Qusayr al-Qadim/Myos Hormos (1999-2003). There are few toponyms, but there is one
that is relatively well represented: Philoteris, which spontaneously evokes a port on the
Red Sea known by the ancient geographers as Philotera, the name of a Ptolemaic
foundation, whose exact location is not certain. Our ostraka do not resolve this
problem; instead they create new ones.
2 Myos Hormos is undoubtedly a Ptolemaic foundation, because the port is mentioned by
Agatharchides of Knidos (second half of the second century BC). Strabo (16, 4, 5)
informs us that the city was also called Ἀφροδίτης ὅρμος (Port of Aphrodite) and
describes it as a λιμὴν μέγας τὸν εἴσπλουν ἔχων σκολιόν (a large port with an entrance
that is oblique/winding). The port enjoyed substantial growth during the Augustan era:
120 ships left each year for India and Arabia (Strabo 2, 5, 12).
3 Myos Hormos has long been identified with Abu Sha'ar, a site very much further north,
but since the 1990s it has been well established, on the basis of solid geological and
archaeological evidence and papyri, that, at least during the Roman period, the port of
Myos Hormos was present day Qusayr al-Qadim.1 The problem was that at that location,
before the excavations of the University of Southampton, there were no traces of
Ptolemaic occupation. This gave rise to the theory that the city of Qusayr, 7 km south,
was Ptolemaic Myos Hormos, and that at the beginning of the Roman period, the port
was moved towards Qusayr al-Qadim, where there was a beautiful well-protected
lagoon.
4 Another theory was that Roman Qusayr al-Qadim was an adjunct port for the
increasingly busy port city of Myos Hormos/Qusayr.2 It was at Qusayr, in 1907, that
Weigall signalled the presence of blocks with hieroglyphic inscriptions3 and that
237
shortly after, A. Reinach mentioned a stele there from the 25th year of Augustus’ reign,
dedicated to Isis Tamestome, an unpublished inscription that is now lost.4 All these
finds have disappeared, but later Abdel Sayyed from the University of Alexandria
reported the discovery of other blocks, from a Ptolemaic temple, and in the qibla of the
El -Zilaii mosque, there are still two reused limestone blocks from a previous building.
One should also mention that during excavations there, column bases were found.5
There are, thus, enough good arguments to infer the existence of a temple, probably
Ptolemaic, on the site of the El-Zilaii mosque at Qusayr. According to Donald Whitcomb,
it could be a temple of Hathor, commonly identified with Aphrodite, which would
explain at the same time the parallel name of Myos Hormos, Ἀφροδίτης ὅρμος.6 The
existence of this temple would imply that Qusayr was the location of the Ptolemaic
harbour of Myos Hormos.
5 However, it should be noted that, neither the Americans, during surveys in 1978, or
later the British were able to discover other Ptolemaic and Roman remains at Qusayr.
On the other hand, traces of a Ptolemaic presence at Qusayr al-Qadim are certainly
rare, but there are some: glass fragments (Meyer 1992, p. 4), coins (Ptolemy III,
Ptolemy VI Philometor, Cleopatra VII) and Ptolemaic pottery among the many
amphorae found in “Trench 7A” of the University of Southampton excavations. The
British archaeologists concluded that “Ptolemaic Myos Hormos was located at Qusayr
al-Qadim, probably in the lower levels of the silted lagoon that we were unable to fully
excavate” (Peacock, Blue 2006, p. 73).
6 To summarize the situation:
(a) at Qusayr, a Ptolemaic temple, apparently isolated;
(b) at Qusayr al-Qadim, a city, a Roman port, no doubt Myos Hormos, with only a few
Ptolemaic ruins.
7 Ptolemaic traces at Qusayr al-Qadim are rare, but what can we hope to find here when
we know from Strabo (2, 5, 12) that in the Ptolemaic period there were only a few brave
people who sailed from Myos Hormos to India? The infrastructure will have been
minimal, but, since the port was a Ptolemaic foundation,7 it is possible that there was a
temple of Arsinoë, which would explain its parallel name Ἀφροδίτης ὅρμος, given the
cult of the deified Arsinoë, identified with Aphrodite, goddess of the sea and protector
of sailors and travellers; this cult spread very quickly in the Ptolemaic ports or those
under the influence of the Ptolemies.8
8 Let us turn now to evidence of another kind. According to one of the ostraka found in
Myos Hormos (inv. 278 W), there must have been a Ptolemaic temple around Myos
Hormos. This is a laisser-passer signed by Cosconius, known from the ostraka of
Krokodilô as the Prefect of the Desert or Berenike (around AD 109)9 for a certain
Katoites, priest of Philotera, and his donkey. The destination of the priest is τὸ
Φιλωτερῖον, undoubtedly a temple of Philotera (Philotereion, cf. Isieion, Arsinoeion),
the deified sister of Ptolemy II.10 It is clear, in my opinion, that Cosconius found himself
at Myos Hormos and that the temple is located outside the city. What is exceptional is
the fact that Philotera’s cult, which is assumed to have ended relatively quickly,
persisted here with a priest until the early second century AD.
9 We cannot interpret this text without mentioning the texts on ostraka discovered at
Maximianon (El Zerqa), a praesidium on the Coptos-Myos Hormos road. Some of these
letters (17, of which 3 are published)11 are sent from a location that had Philotera as its
238
tutelary goddess, according to the formula of worship at the beginning of the letters,
which implies that there was a sanctuary of the goddess. The site from which these
letters were sent must be located on the Coptos-Myos Hormos road, east of
Maximianon. According to Adam Bülow-Jacobsen, a serious candidate is the praesidium
of Simiou (Bi’r Sayyâla), 41km from Myos Hormos: its name could be derived from the
name of a certain Simmias, who was sent by Ptolemy III to Africa in search of elephants.
In addition, one of the letters (O.Max. Inv. 147) suggests a military presence, as in the
other praesidia on the Myos Hormos road: Herennius, a cavalryman, asks his 'brother'
to see if one of his friends at Maximianon could provide green fodder for his horse, who
has not eaten for five days.12
10 Another factor must be taken into account: a port on the Red sea, Philotera(s), is
mentioned by Strabo, Pliny the Elder, Claudius Ptolemy (Φιλωτέρας λιμήν) and the
grammarians, a city which is also called Philoteris.13 It would be normal to find a
sanctuary to Philotera there. According to Strabo (16, 4, 5) it was a foundation of
Satyros, who was sent by Ptolemy II to the country of the Troglodytes in search of
elephants. Because of contradictory indications by geographers and ancient historians,
the port was located almost everywhere along the coast, both north (Strabo, Pliny) and
south (Ptolemy) of Myos Hormos, but a consensus seems to be emerging for locating it
near Safaga, at Mersa Gawasis, about 50 km north of Qusayr al-Qadim.14 It is possible
that this port is mentioned in some ostraka from Myos Hormos:
- in a letter (Inv. O.193) from one of the praesidia of the Myos Hormos road, a certain
Maximus said that he will leave for Philoteris and do his shopping (ἀπελεύσω εἰς
Φιλωτερὶν καὶ ἀγοράσω).
- a laisser-passez (Inv. O.263.):15 Priscus duplicarius: let pass Takubis and Kronous ἐς
Φιλωτερίν (corrected from -τεραν).
- a fragmentary laisser-passez (Inv. O.324) issued by Cosconius (cf. supra) who orders to
let pass two ... (to?) Philot[...].
- finally, a request (Inv. O.512) from Pakybis, an Ichthyophage, to Avitus, a well known
paralemptes,16 to let pass a schedia (small boat) εἰς Φιλ[ωτερ.ν]; in the signature we find a
slightly more complete toponym: πάρες Φιλωτ[ερ.ν] (let pass to Philot[er..]
11 It should be noted that in the last two texts, the end of the toponym is missing, so we
cannot exclude that the port of Philotera was mentioned here: in inv. O.263 (v. supra)
the correction of Φιλωτέραν to Φιλωτερίν indeed shows that there is hesitation
between the two names, perhaps, but not necessarily an indication that these are two
distinct cities.
12 All of this is confusing: we have on the one hand the Philotera of the historians and
ancient geographers (Philoteris in Apollodorus and –in Latin– in Pomponius Mela); and
on the other hand, Philoteris exclusively in at least two Myos Hormos ostraka –once
Philotera was corrected to Philoteris–, and a Philotereion in a laissez-passer from Myos
Hormos, a temple with a priest, undoubtedly a cult, the existence of which is indirectly
confirmed by the proskynemata in front of Philotera in letters found between
Maximianon and the coast, probably Simiou (B'ir Sayyâla?).17
13 Among several possibilities, here are some options:
- we could consider the different names as variants of the name of a single city, north
or south of Myos Hormos, a port, which was called Philotera(s) or Philoteris, where
there was a temple of Philotera, a Philotereion.
239
- idem, but with the Philotereion located elsewhere, somewhere around Myos Hormos.
- two separate locations: a port Philotera (or Philoteris) and a site (a praesidium?)
Philoteris with a temple of Philotera (Philotereion).
- three places: a port Philotera, a city of Philoteris (perhaps also a port), and an isolated
temple of Philotera.
14 In the first case, it would be necessary to relocate Philotera(s) away from Wâdi Gawasis.
When one considers the relatively numerous letters with proskynema in front of the
goddess Philotera, it seems unlikely that they were sent from Wâdi Gawasis to
Maximianon (cf. n. 17). If one looks for a port with a temple that is not too far from
Myos Hormos, Qusayr, which is also located at the end of the Myos Hormos road, is a
candidate. Unfortunately, no archaeological evidence of occupation during the Roman
period is attested at Qusayr and the identification of Qusayr with a hypothetical
Ptolemaic Philotera/Philoteris with limited commercial activity that was quickly, under
the Ptolemies, moved to the beautiful lagoon of Myos Hormos (Qusayr al-Qadim), is
appealing, but for the moment purely hypothetical.
15 We could keep a port Philotera at Wâdi Gawasis and a sanctuary of Philotera at the
praesidium of Simiou, if the letters with proskynema to the goddess Philotera were sent
from there. It is of course possible to have a praesidium with a tutelary deity whose
main temple is located elsewhere. But then, what to do with the city of Philoteris?
16 Finally, I believe that in the current state of the literary documentation and the
papyrological evidence, it is prudent to distinguish between Philotera and Philoteris,
which could explain the confusion of the Roman geographers regarding the variation in
the name of these two cities (which they believed were only one) and their position,
one to the north, the other to the south of Myos Hormos.18
17 The temple of the goddess Philotera, which, according to the laissez-passer of its priest,
must have been located near Myos Hormos, might have been at Qusayr, as we have
seen, though the identification of this city with Philoteris remains doubtful.
18 Could there be other possibilities for a site with a Ptolemaic temple, situated between
Maximianon and Myos Hormos? I know only one, situated on an alternative route to
the Red Sea, parallel to the Coptos-Myos Hormos road. It has the additional advantage
of being the closest source of fresh water to Myos Hormos: Bi'r Kareim.19 It is an
enigmatic site, an uncharacteristic mining site (Klemm 2013, p. 149), which has not
been excavated, only visited. While Whitcomb in 1980 considered Bi'r Kareim as
contemporary to Roman Qusayr al-Qadim, Rosemarie Klemm and Dietrich Klemm
proposed that the site was already exploited during the Ptolemaic period. Moreover,
during a visit in 2000, I happened to pick up the handle of a Rhodian amphora with a
stamp on it with the text ἐπὶ Πολυ/κράτευς (ca. 240-225 or 219-210 BC), which places
Bi'r Kareim definitively among the Ptolemaic sites of the third century. A remarkable
building there was identified for the first time by Prickett in 1979 as a temple: it
consists of two inner courtyards, 3 cellae and three bedrooms to the east, probably for
priests or servants. It is likely that this is a Ptolemaic temple, but so far this assumption
lacks archaeological confirmation. That said, the temple of Bi’r Kareim is a hypothetical
Philotereion.
19 There are therefore two Ptolemaic temples around Myos Hormos, two possible
Philotereia, Qusayr and Bi’r Kareim. As for the location of Philoteris, the only
information we have is in the Myos Hormos ostraka, two of which are incomplete,
240
precisely at the place where the flexional ending of the toponym (-εραν or -εριν) could
have suggested a solution to the issue of two separate locations. In addition, if the
ostracon (inv. O.512) with the request of an Ichthyophage to let a boat pass through had
been complete (with the place name Φιλωτερίν), we would know that Philoteris is a
port. Now, because of these two centimetres of missing text, nothing is certain and the
problem of Philoteris remains unresolved at the moment.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Ast R. and Bagnall R.S. 2015. “The Receivers of Berenike. New Inscriptions from the
2015 Season”, Chiron 45, pp. 171-185.
Barbantani S. 2005. “Goddess of Love and Mistress of the Sea. Notes on a Hellenistic
Hymn to Arsinoe-Aphrofdite (P. Lit. Goodsp. 2 I-IV)”, Ancient Society 35, pp. 135-165.
Bülow-Jacobsen A., Cuvigny H., Fournet J-L. 1994. “The Identification of Myos Hormos.
New Papyrological Evidence”, BIFAO 94, pp. 27-49.
Cohen G.M. 2006. The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria the Red Sea Basin and North Africa.
Berkeley-Los Angeles-London.
d’Egypte, 2 vols. Cairo.
Cuvigny H. 2005. Ostraca de Krokodilô. La correspondance militaire et sa circulation. Cairo.
Klemm R., Klemm D. 2013. Gold and Gold Mining in Ancient Egypt and Nubia. Heidelberg-
London.
Meyer C. 1992. Glass from Quseir al-Qadim and the Indian Ocean Trade. Chicago.
Peacock D. and Blue L. (eds). 2006. Myos Hormos – Quseir al-Qadim. Roman and Islamic Ports
on the Red Sea. Volume 1 Survey and Excavations 1999-2003. Oxford.
Prickett M. 1979. “Quseir Regional Survey”. In Quseir al-Qadim 1978. Preliminary Report.
D.S. Whitcomb and J.H. Johnson (eds.), American Research Center in Egypt: Cairo,
pp. 257-352.
Reinach A.J. 1910. Rapports sur les fouilles de Koptos (janvier-février 1910). Paris.
Van Rengen W. 2001. “L’armée romaine et la surveillance des routes dans le désert
Oriental d’Égypte : un laissez-passer de Myos Hormos”, Rome et ses provinces. Genèse &
diffusion d’une image du pouvoir. Hommages à Jean Charles Balty. Bruxelles, pp. 233-236.
Weigall A.E.P. 1913. Travels in the Upper Egyptian Deserts. Edinburgh-London.
Whitcomb D.S. and Johnson J.H. (eds.) 1979. Quseir al-Qadim 1978. Preliminary Report.
American Research Center in Egypt, Cairo.
Whitcomb D.S. and Johnson J.H. 1982. Quseir al-Qadim 1980. Preliminary Report. American
Research Center in Egypt Reports 7, Malibu.
Whitcomb D. 1996. “Quseir al-Qadim and the location of Myos Hormos”, Topoi 6/2,
pp. 747-772.
241
FOOTNOTES
1. On Myos Hormos, with a detailed summary of the hypotheses about the location, see Cohen
2006, pp. 332-338.
2. Cuvigny 2003, p. 27; for Qusayr, site of Ptolemaic Myos Hormos, see Cohen 2006, pp. 336-337,
n. 6.
3. Weigall 1913, p. 81 and Pl. X, 21-24.
4. Reinach 1910, p. 43. Cf. Cuvigny 2003, p. 19 and p. 282. It is of no use, I think, to minimise the
importance of this discovery, as David Peacock did in Peacock and Blue 2006, p. 15.
5. Haini el-Zeini, in Whitcomb, Johnson 1982, p. 399; cf. Peacock and Blue 2006, p. 15.
6. Whitcomb 1996, p. 760.
7. One can, however, doubt the official character of this foundation, see Cohen 2006, p. 335, n. 4.
8. See Barbantani 2005, pp. 146-147.
9. On the title “Préfet de Βérénice”, Cuvigny 2003, pp. 295-301; on Cosconius, ibid., 303. Cosconius
figures in 5 ostraca of Krokodilô, see Cuvigny 2005, index of people’s names, p. 196.
10. On Philotera, see J. Regner, Philotera in RE, 39 Halbb. (1941), col. 1285-1294.
11. Bülow-Jacobsen et al. 1994, p. 32, n° II (SB 22. 15453); 33, n° III (= SB 22. 15454); Cuvigy 2003,
p. 404 (inv. M.147).
12. Cuvigny 2003, pp. 56-58.
13. Cf. Aelius Herodianus and Pseudo-Herodianus, De prosodia catholica (Grammatici Graeci, vol. 3.1,
Ed. Lentz, A.), 3,1.260.: μεθ' ὧν καὶ <Φιλωτέρα> πόλις περὶ τὴν Τρωγλοδυτικήν, Σατύρου κτίσμα.
Ἀπολλόδωρος δὲ Φιλωτερίδα καλεῖ. and ibid., 3,1. 100, 8) 9: < Φιλωτερίς> πόλις περὶ τὴν
Τρωγλοδυτικήν, ἡ καὶ Φιλωτέρα.
14. See Cohen 2006, pp. 339-341.
15. See W. Van Rengen 2001, pp. 233-236.
16. On the paralemptes Avitus, see Cuvigny 2005, pp. 13-16 and most recently Ast and Bagnall
2015.
17. Cuvigny 2003, pp. 53, 56-58.
18. H. Kees (RE XX, 1941, s.v. Philoteras, col. 180-1) reached the same conclusion on the basis of
only this literary tradition.
19. On Bi’r Kareim, see Whitcomb & Johnson 1982, pp. 391-396; Klemm 2013, pp. 148-151.
AUTHOR
Wilfried Van Rengen

Professor at the Vrije Universiteit Brussel (Belgium)
242
The Italian Archaeological Mission

in the Eastern Desert: First Results
from the Area of Wâdi Gasus
Irene Bragantini, Giulio Lucarini, Andrea Manzo and Rosanna Pirelli
Scope and goals of the project

1 The Italian Archaeological Mission in the Eastern Desert of Egypt is a joint project of
several Italian and Egyptian institutions (University of Naples, L'Orientale, with
University of Cairo, Faculty of Geology, and University of Helwan, Faculty of
Archaeology), funded jointly by the Università degli Studi di Napoli l’Orientale and the
Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation. The area granted to
the Mission by the Egyptian Antiquity Ministry extends in an east-west direction from
the Red Sea to the Nile Valley; it is limited to the north by the Wâdi Hamamah and to
the south by the Wâdi al-Hammâmât (Fig. 1).1 The extent of the concession is borne out
of the nature of the project, which is aimed at surveying the central area of the Eastern
Desert to gain an image of the economic landscape of the area and the system of
exploitation of its rich natural resources over the different historical periods. As in
other projects of this kind, the cooperation of different scientific fields is required,
utilizing different methodologies (topography, recording of human activity, assessing
chronology). A large part of the research in this area dates to the mid 20th century:2 one
of our aims is, therefore, to visit sites previously investigated to record them, check
their present conditions and analyze them in the light of contemporary trends in
interpreting archaeological evidence.
Fig. 1
243
Map of the area granted to the Italian Archaeological Mission in the

Eastern Desert.
2 Our mission was authorized at the end of 2011: we immediately conducted our first
season in January 2012. Thereafter, due to combined difficulties in obtaining
authorizations from SCA and the military authorities, we were unable to conduct
another field campaign until January 2015 (Fig. 2).3
Fig. 2
Itineraries of the missions 2012 and 2015.

© Google Earth -A. D’Andrea
3 When I gladly accepted the kind invitation of the Collège de France, I was hoping to
present the first results of the 2016 campaign, set alongside results from the
244
geophysical analysis, due to start then too. Unfortunately, this has not transpired. Our
mission, due to begin in January 2016, was among those foreign missions that could not
get the required military permission before the end of that month. Hence Rosanna
Pirelli, vice-director of the mission, and I left the country just before the anniversary of
25th January, as the Italian scholar Giulio Regeni was killed in Cairo.
The 'Graeco-Roman Station'

4 Our work started at what is known as the ‘Graeco-Roman station’ in Wâdi Gasus. The
site lies only 7 km inland, not far from the location of the joint archaeological mission
from Orientale and Boston University on the harbour of Marsa Gawasis. Considering
that some of our team members, viz. R. Pirelli, A. Manzo and A. D’Andrea, had also
taken part in the Marsa Gawasis project, we decided to start from the ‘Station’. Our aim
was to place previous information on this ‘enigmatic’ site in the context of our research
project. The prehistoric survey conducted by G. Lucarini (see below) started here too.
5 The name ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ is somewhat misleading as the site does not resemble
any of the praesidia laid out systematically along the main routes of the Eastern Desert
by the Roman Imperial administration (Cuvigny 2006; ead. 2011) (Fig. 3). First, the
‘Station’ is formed in two distinct parts: at the bottom of the wâdi, a well is surrounded
by a large rectangular enclosure of irregular plan (Fig. 4); both, well and enclosure, are
already on the Schweinfurth plan.4 The structure recalls the ‘well-stops’ described in
the northern section of the Via Hadriana.5 We hope to extract information on this well
from the RadarSAt project housed at CISA of Orientale University (Principal
Investigator Andrea D’Andrea, in collaboration with Daniele Riccio).6
Fig. 3
Wâdi Gasus, area of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ (bottom left) and of the
well (top right).
© Google Earth - G. Cresciani
Fig. 4
245
Well and enclosure in the Wâdi Gasus.

6 On the terrace, 5 meters above the wâdi, but not immediately above the well, lay the
different buildings composing the ‘Station’, named according to their positions
(Western, Middle, Southern and Eastern Buildings: Sayed 1977). It is not easy to find a
relation between them: they are not enclosed by walls, are but ‘loosely’ oriented on the
terrace and are built in various techniques, with blocks of different sizes, stones and
cuts. Only for the Western and Southern buildings is a possible function suggested by
Sayed 1977, namely a chapel or temple for the Western building (see below), and
perhaps a bath for the Southern (with no secure reasons).
7 A water point only 7 km inland would obviously explain the human activity here.
A. Manzo had already noticed that this is the closest and most convenient water source
to the port of Wâdi Gawasis; moreover, during previous visits to the site, he was able to
identify several 12th Dynasty rims of Marl C and Marl A3 jars, similar to the ones
collected at Marsa Gawasis (see Manzo, below).
8 The problem here, as found elsewhere in our survey, is posed by the difficulty both in
comprehending the different pieces of evidence and in dating their creation and use.
Without proper excavation, such matters cannot be resolved. What is more, we are not
able to understand how the various physical evidence interrelates, i.e., how the various
phases of a site are sequenced or how additions modified the pre-existing landscape.
9 In fact, we are now confronted by a series of contrasting indications, with very little
secure points to rely upon. This problem is compounded as we have no documentation
of the previous and thorough excavation carried out on the site in the 1970s (Sayed
1977). Moreover, the site is being constantly vandalised, as the sequence of images from
2007 to 2013 in Google Earth well indicates (Fig. 5).
Fig. 5
246
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: ‘Eastern Building’

(2007-2013).
© Google Earth - R. Pirelli
10 Strong deflation has prevented the formation of a ‘proper’ stratigraphy: Middle

Kingdom water jars lie on the terrace ‘side by side’ with fragments of the Roman
Imperial period. To estimate the volume and relative percentages of residual pottery, a
survey was conducted in 2015.7 12 squares (10 x 10 m) were mapped out, and diagnostic
fragments were inventoried (Fig. 6). Cups and small cups, water containers in a very
fine-textured, pale brown or yellowish fabric (some of them with incisions made before
firing), cooking pots and casseroles, a few unguentaria, fragments of amphorae (among
them a bifid handle of a Italic Dressel 2/4, Peacock & Williams Class 10, fired to a dark
grey colour (Fig. 7), and fragments of ‘saggars’ (see below) were recorded: these can
indicate the people who frequented the site and their activities here. A percentage of
around 20% Middle Kingdom residual pottery was counted, the remaining 80% being
datable to the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Fragments of Nubian pottery,
comparable to finds from Marsa Gawasis of the same date (see Manzo, below), were also
identified in the same survey.
Fig. 6
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: outline of the buildings (in

blue) and area of the pottery survey (in green).
Fig. 7
247
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: Dressel 2-4 amphora handle.

© A. Lena
11 Regardless of when the built structures had been inhabited, we can, nevertheless,
hypothesize that the availability of water (till recently signalled by some acacia trees)
attracted people here. It must also be noted that a high percentage of Middle Kingdom
pottery was recovered not from near the well on the wâdi bottom, but higher up on the
terrace: this distribution points to some organized presence here since that period.
12 Among the buildings of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’, only the ‘Eastern Building’ can be
more properly analyzed, thanks to its plan and state of preservation (Fig. 8). The
structure is rectangular, with small rooms opening on the sides of a small central court,
a kitchen and the remains of a stair. The building should, in fact, be identified as a
‘resting place’ for people travelling in the area, especially for people arriving from the
sea. While a parallel is hard to find in the system of praesidia laid out by the Roman
administration along the main roads of the Eastern Desert, the ‘Eastern Building’ can be
best compared to the ‘Road station’ analyzed by Katharina Rieger in the Marmarikè
plateau; this is dated by her as operative from Roman to Early Byzantine times.8 Both
the sites in fact offer evidence of remains dating from different periods, indicative of a
variety of human activities.
Fig. 8
248
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: ‘Eastern Building’.

© G. Ciucci
13 Two points can give us an idea of the ‘mixed activities’ taking place at various times on
the terrace: the inscriptions from the ‘chapel’ and the ‘saggars’.
Religious activity in the area

14 Let us start with the chapel: the name is given to a structure now almost completely
ruined, where according to 19th century travellers two stelae from the Middle Kingdom
were on display. Intense and careful observation of reproductions of the stelae has led
Rosanna Pirelli to recognize that the two inscriptions were actually not stelae, but
rock-cut inscriptions removed from their original basalt-rock location (Pirelli in
Bragantini, Pirelli, 2013a, pp. 59-62; ead., below: first group of inscriptions).
15 We have no data by which to understand when (and why) this removal took place and
the inscriptions were displayed here. Nonetheless, the evocative power of objects ‘from
the past’ in ancient societies and the new functions they acquire in new locations may
allow us to hypothesize that this action could have taken place at any moment in the
life of the chapel (Bragantini in Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, p. 72). The recent find of a
Middle Kingdom stela from the Sarapis temple in Berenike (Hense, Kaper, Gerts 2015)
confirms the reuse of Pharaonic materials within structures dating to the Roman
period (cf. Sayed 1983, 34).9 We must also remember that Sayed states that “no
Pharaonic monument or inscription was found, although [he] excavated the station to
its very foundation” (Sayed 1978, 69). In our present state of knowledge, we can,
therefore, hypothesize that the stelae could have been on display in the ‘Station’ during
the Roman period: this is, in fact, the best attested period on the site.
16 Given the text of the two ‘stelae’ (one of them recording a safe return from a sea
voyage, an important indication of the ‘state of mind’ of the people travelling in the
desert: Sayed 1977, p. 141), the primary location should represent an important point in
the ‘inscribed landscape’ of the area, in some way connected to a port, hence giving us
249
some information on possible routes between Wâdi Gasus and a nearby harbour (Wâdi
Gawasis?). Our survey has, in fact, identified one track providing an easy route between
these widian (Bragantini, Pirelli 2015, p. 167).
17 Religious activities on the terrace of the ‘Station’, even if we cannot localize them
precisely, may be inferred by various other indicators: Sayed (1977, pp. 145-146, figs. 9
d-e) published a small, ithyphallic Min, a votive object pointing to mining-related
activity (which is known to have taken place in this area). Further, a stray find of the
2015 campaign, a complete miniature cup imitating Hellenistic Black Glaze ware, was
identified in the section exposed by the bulldozers: this might suggest some form of
religious activity here in Ptolemaic times10 (Fig. 9). A preliminary reading of an ostrakon
reproduced in Sayed (1977, p. 145, Pl. 9c) and dated to 11-10 BC definitely implies a text
of religious character.11 Cult activity on the terrace could also have taken the form of
small dedicatory ‘altars’: one could have housed a basalt anchor, found not far from the
‘Station’ within a circle of stones, perhaps part of an ‘offering’ made after a safe return
from a sea voyage.12
Fig. 9
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: miniaturistic cup (imitation

Black Ware).
© A. Lena
The ‘saggars’
18 To further complicate the situation, we found a huge quantity of fragments of ‘saggars’,
ceramic crucible used to fire faïence ware (Bragantini, in Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a,
pp. 68-69). As in all our survey activity, we have not removed objects from beneath the
ground surface, but the count of the base fragments scattered on the ground gave a
substantial minimum number of individuals ( MNI) of 156. It was my hope that the
geophysical survey planned for the 2016 field mission would pinpoint structures: my
250
growing fear is now that the fast destruction of the evidence will soon deprive us of the
archaeological base on which to conduct our analysis.
19 P. Nicholson has recently published his findings from Kom Helul-Memphis (Nicholson
2013), attesting the production of faïence objects on the site. Based on previous
research of Flinders Petrie and himself, Nicholson distinguishes two stages in this
production, carried out in different ovens and in different containers. Larger and
coarser ‘saggars’, in a calcareous fabric, were used in the first phase of production; no
remains of glaze are to be found on these objects. The second stage, the glazing proper,
dealt with smaller versions, made both in a silt and in a marl/mixed fabric. These latter
sorts preserve on their walls or bases significant remains of glazing. Although ‘saggars’
can be used more than once, Nicholson stresses that if too much glaze accumulates, this
build-up could affect the process, staining and spoiling the colour of the faïence
objects, the focus of the production.
20 Saggars from the terrace of the Station at Wâdi Gasus share exactly the same typology,
fabrics and technology as the ‘glazing’ vessels from Kom Helul, suggesting an identity
of the workshop practices and a chronology belonging to early Roman times, as indeed
is proposed by Nicholson. They are handmade, with an average diameter of 33 cm and
an average height of 13 cm. The calcareous fabric might be of different colours, from
cream to brown (Fig. 10); finger prints are frequent on the exterior surface of our
‘saggars’. The base is flat, sometimes slightly larger than the body, the rim might or
might not be grooved. A green/turquoise ‘glaze’ is almost always preserved on the
internal walls (Fig. 11a-b). Nicholson states that the marl-mixed clay sort is usually
found with pale turquoise glaze, while darker green and blue glazes (rarer at our site)
are associated with the silt fabric.
Fig. 10
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ in the Wâdi Gasus: fragments of ‘saggars’ in

different colours fabrics.
© V. Zoppi
Fig. 11a
251
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: fragments of ‘saggars’ with

remains of green/turquoise ‘glaze’.
© V. Zoppi
Fig. 11b
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: fragments of ‘saggars’ with

remains of green/turquoise ‘glaze’.
© V. Zoppi
21 Nicholson’s descriptions perfectly fit our fragments, the only difference being
imprinted traces on ours of textiles, used to remove easily the fabric from the round
object on which the ‘saggar’ was formed. Such were never mentioned in Nicholson’s
extremely accurate descriptions (Fig. 12a-b).
Fig. 12a
252
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: imprints of gauze or textile

under a vitreous glaze on ‘saggars’ walls.
© R. Pirelli, A. Zoppi
Fig. 12b
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: imprints of gauze or textile

under a vitreous glaze on ‘saggars’ walls.
© R. Pirelli, A. Zoppi
22 Fragments of pots preserving the same kind of glaze on their internal walls have been
found in two sites in the Campania region of Italy, at Cumae and Liternum, in contexts
dating to the late first century AD. This material has been attributed to a local
production of Egyptian blue (Caputo, Cavassa 2009; Cavassa et al. 2010). Campanian
containers are of two types: a cylinder with a slightly rounded rim and flat base (h.
51 cm and diameter of 37/39 cm, Cavassa et al. 2010, p. 238, Fig. 3; Cf Nicholson 2013,
253
pp. 12-13) and a globular pot, with flattened rim and ring foot (Cavassa et al. 2010,
p. 240, figs. 6-7). Their calcareous, creamy fabric has been attributed to local
production (Crifa et al. 2012).
23 No remains of kilns or firing structures or any other production related objects have
been identified on the terrace of the Station, nor is waste-material to be found among
the preserved fragments. Nevertheless, their high number (MNI 156, see below) might
point to a production on the spot. We must also recall that –notwithstanding the strong
evidence and intense field activity at Kom Helul by Petrie and Nicholson– no ovens for
the second stage of the production of faïence objects, the glazing, were identified there.
We are, therefore, faced with the problem of what these ‘saggars’ might indicate; one
could also speculate whether the fine-grained quartz powder (resulting from the gold
processing in a site nearby –see below) could have been ‘reused’ in this faïence
production.13 We must also recall that the production of faïence objects and of Egyptian
blue are in some way connected (Rodziewicz 2005, p. 29; Nicholson 2013, p. 147).14
24 Although no serious attempt has yet been made by us to join the fragments, I believe
that we have evidence that the ‘saggars’ were broken on the site, in order to remove
the finished objects. In 2011 we observed a high concentration of ‘saggars’ scattered on
a roughly circular area (Fig. 13). This pattern had led to the hypothesis that it could
comprise the remains of an oven: a limited excavation conducted in 2015 by Giulia
Ciucci revealed that the round ‘shape’ was in fact a shallow pit filled with modern
material. We, therefore, interpret the high concentration of ‘saggars’ here as the result
of modern activity, probably some kind of sorting during Sayed’s excavations.
Fig. 13
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ on the Wâdi Gasus: area with high concentration

of fragments of ‘saggars’ (orthophoto G. Ciucci, A. Lena).
© G. Giucci, A. Lena
254
25 Other remains of manufacturing activities on the terrace might be identified at its

northern limit, where basalt stones mark out a longitudinal shape in the terrain filled
with windblown sand, probably the remains of a subterranean mine.15
Irene Bragantini
Middle Kingdom and Nubian Pottery from the 'Graeco-

Roman Station'
26 In addition to Roman pottery, the site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ in Wâdi Gasus also
yielded Middle Kingdom and Nubian sherds.
27 The Middle Kingdom sherds can be assigned to the following typological classes:
1. Fragments of Marl C large bag-shaped jars (zirs) with round-shaped thickened rim
were recorded from surface assemblages both in 2010 and 2012 and in the pottery
survey of 2015 (SU3/233, SU4/250) (Fig. 14a). They can be ascribed to a widely
distributed class of jars with flat base dating to the late 11th-early 12th Dynasty (Schiestl
and Seiler 2012, pp. 584-585, Type II.E.13.a; see also Arnold 1979, Abb 18, 5, 1988,
Fig. 55b, Fig. 59, Fig. 62; Bader 2001, pp. 155-163, Abb 42 Typ 1-3, Abb 44-45; Bagh 2002,
Fig. 10a-c; Wodzińska 2010, pp. 174-175, Type Middle Kingdom 17-18).16 The nearest site
where similar jars were recorded is Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis, the Middle Kingdom harbor
to the land of Punt, on the coast not far from Wâdi Gasus (Bard, Fattovich 2007, pp. 11,
13, 113-114, 26).
Fig. 14
Middle Kingdom sherds from Wâdi Gasus: a) rim sherd of a bag shaped
Marl C large jar (zir) with round-shaped thickened rim; b) rim sherd of a
Marl A 3 bag shaped or ovoidal jar or bottle with thickened rim.
255
© A. Manzo
2. Fragments of bag shaped Marl C large and middle sized jars with everted rim and
thickened rounded lip were recorded in 2012 (Fig. 15a). They can be ascribed to a class
dating to the mid to late 12th and 13 th Dynasty (Schiestl and Seiler 2012, pp. 602-603,
Type II.E.13.g; see also Arnold 1988, Fig. 74, 60; Bader 2001, pp. 166, 172, Abb 52b,
Typ 57e; Bagh 2002, Fig. 10d; Wodzińska 2010, p. 173, Type Middle Kingdom 16).17 Also
in this case comparisons can be found at the nearby site of Marsa /Wâdi Gawasis.18
3. Fragments of Marl C large bag-shaped jars (zirs) with squat thickened triangular-
shaped modeled rim were recorded from surface assemblages in 2012 and in the
pottery survey in 2015 (SU1/7, SU2/2) (Fig. 15b). They can be ascribed to a class of jars
dating from the end of the reign of Senwseret III to the 13th Dynasty (Schiestl and Seiler
2012, pp. 596-597, Type II.E.13.e; see also Arnold 1982, Abb 8, 5; Bader 2001, pp. 166-178,
Abb 42 Typ 5, Abb 49b, Typ 57e, Abb 50a, Typ 57e, Abb 52d-e, Typ 57e; Kaiser et al. 1999,
pp. 217-219, Abb 51; Stadelmann and Alexanian 1998, Abb 8, 5).19 Similar jars were
recorded also at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis (Bard, Fattovich 2007, p. 114, 27).
4. A single fragment of a Marl C jar with flaring and pointed rim was recorded in 2012
(Fig. 15c). It can be ascribed to a class dating from the very end of the 12th to the end of
the 13th Dynasty (Schiestl and Seiler 2012, pp. 686-687, Type II.J.2; see also Bader 2001,
p. 196, Abb 65, Typ 60; Bourriau 1996, Fig. 4, 10; Wodzińska 2010, p. 190, Type Middle
Kingdom 61). Fragments of vessels of the same class were widely collected at Marsa/
Wâdi Gawasis.20
Fig. 15
Profiles of Middle Kingdom Marl C types from Wâdi Gasus: a) rim of a bag
shaped large to middle sized jar with everted rim and thickened rounded
lip; b) rim of a large bag-shaped jar (zir) with squat thickened triangular-
256
shaped modeled rim; c) rim of a jar with flaring and pointed rim; d) rim
of a mid-sized jar with everted neck and thickened triangular lip.
© I. Incordino, A. Manzo
5. A single fragment of a mid-sized Marl C jar with everted neck and thickened
triangular lip was recorded in 2012 (Fig. 15d). It can be ascribed to a class dating to the
late 12th and 13 th Dynasty (Schiestl and Seiler 2012, 686-687, Type II.E.13.e, variant 8;
Arnold 1982, Abb 11, 6; Bader 2001, pp. 124-125, Abb 28f, Typ 42). Jars of similar shape
were collected at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis in late Middle Kingdom/Second Intermediate
Period assemblages (Bard, Fattovich 2007, p. 115, Fig. 52).
6. A single fragment of a Marl A 3 bag shaped or ovoid jar or bottle with thickened rim
was recorded in 2010 (Fig. 14b). It can be ascribed to a class of mid-sized jars or bottles
dating to the 11th-very beginning of the 12th Dynasty (Schiestl and Seiler 2012,
pp. 444-445, Type II.C.3.a; Arnold 1979, p. 36, Abb 22a, 3-4a; Bourriau 2004, Fig. 1, 5;
Wodzińska 2010, p. 195, Middle Kingdom 75).21 Sherds to be ascribed to similar vessels
were also recorded at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis.22
28 Moreover, several fragments of Nubian type were identified in the pottery survey
(Fig. 16). They were characterized by brown or gray ware organic and/or mineral
tempered ware (?) with oblique incised and/or crossing bands of incised lines covering
the external surface. Similar fragments were recorded in the nearby site of Marsa/Wâdi
Gawasis where they date from the early Middle Kingdom to the Early New Kingdom
(Manzo 2012, pp. 217-218, Fig. 2c). Two rim sherds of Nubian type from Wâdi Gasus are
characterized by a horizontal band of notches parallel to the rim delimiting the lower
part of the vessel covered by oblique parallel incised lines (Fig. 17). This kind of vessel,
although not unknown, is very rare in Egypt and also in Lower Nubia, where it dates to
the Second Intermediate Period-early New Kingdom (see e.g. Forstner-Müller 2012,
p. 78, Fig. 14, 29; Manassa Darnell 2012, p. 124, Fig. 8), while it is common in Upper
Nubia, especially in the region of the Fourth Cataract and in Eastern Sudan, where it
dates from the early to mid-2nd millennium BC (Manzo 2014, p. 1151, Pl. 3). Similar
sherds, but with the decorative pattern starting not immediately under the rim have
been collected at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis, where they were associated with Middle
Kingdom materials (Manzo 2012, p. 220, Fig. 2h), as it is apparently also the case at the
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ in the Wâdi Gasus.
Fig. 16
257
Group of sherds of Nubian type from Wâdi Gasus.

© I. Incordino, A. Lena
Fig. 17
Detail of two rim sherds of Nubian type from Wâdi Gasus characterized
by an horizontal band of notches parallel to the rim and delimiting the
lower part of the vessel covered by oblique parallel incised lines.
© I. Incordino, A. Lena
Final remarks
29 The systematic study of the pottery recorded in the survey at the ‘Graeco-Roman
Station’ in the lower Wâdi Gasus showed that the site was used not only in Roman times
but also earlier. This was already proposed after a one-day visit of the ‘Graeco-Roman
Station’ conducted in 2010 in the framework of the Italian-American project at Marsa/
Wâdi Gawasis (Manzo 2011, p. 221). The more systematic survey conducted in 2015
allowed a more detailed assessment of the Middle Kingdom ceramic assemblage from
the site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ and considerably enriched the number of the
recorded types.
258
30 According to the chronology of the recorded types, the use of the site may have started
in the late 11th Dynasty, continued for the whole 12th Dynasty and extended to the mid-,
possibly to the late 13th Dynasty. Therefore, the Pharaonic activity at the site of the
‘Graeco-Roman Station’ largely corresponds to the more intensive period of use of the
harbour at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis (Bard, Fattovich 2007, pp. 110, 125).
31 The first excavator of the site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’, Abdelmoneim Sayed,
suggested that the two inscriptions dating to the reigns of Amenemhat II and Senwsert
II from the site in the Wâdi Gasus were reused in later structures and were originally
erected at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis (Sayed 1977, p. 146). Of course, the evidence of a
significant Middle Kingdom phase of use of the site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ based
on the ceramics may now support the hypothesis that these two inscriptions were
originally erected not far from the place where they had been discovered (see Pirelli,
below).
32 The collection of Middle Kingdom ceramics from Wâdi Gasus consists almost
exclusively of fragments of big and middle sized Marl C jars, the so-called zir.
Significantly, only a single rim sherd of a Marl A3 jar was collected. Dealing with the
regions of the Egyptian Nile valley where the Middle Kingdom vessels represented at
the site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ were manufactured it can be suggested that Marl
C vessels were made in Lower Egypt, and the Marl A3 ones in Upper Egypt (Bourriau
1996, p. 31, 2004, p. 12), while the hypothesis that there may have also been a more
southerly production center for Marl C vessels remains unproven (Seiler 2012, p. 433).
Thus, it seems that all the types of large jars recorded at the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’
but one were produced in Lower Egypt, in the Memphis-Faiyum area, most likely not
far from the royal residence of the 12th Dynasty rulers (Bader 2001, pp. 35-36). This
might suggest that the provisions for people frequenting the site of the ‘Graeco-Roman
Station’ mostly consisted of commodities from Lower Egypt, as was the case in the same
phases for the expeditionary corps frequenting the site of the Middle Kingdom harbour
at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis (Bard, Fattovich 2007, p. 125). If the connection with ceramic
workshops related to the region of the royal residence and, perhaps, with royal
institutions is accepted, it may be also suggested that the expeditions in this part of the
Eastern Desert were not only promoted but also effectively run by the central state
authority.
33 As far as the function of the recorded types is concerned, the use of big jars similar to
the ones of the classes recorded at the site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ as fixed long-
term storage facilities has already been recorded at other sites (see e.g. Shaw, Bloxam
1999), and this might suggest that these vessels had a long life and that the
morphologically earlier vessels were progressively replaced by the later variants and
types only when they were broken. Therefore, a longer life for the large storage vessels
than for the other classes of pots may be assumed for the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ in the
Wâdi Gasus as well as for Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis and for the other sites at some distance
from the Nile valley. The type of the vessels from Wâdi Gasus may suggest that a
station, perhaps on the way to Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis, was located there in the Middle
Kingdom and that the well of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’ was in use at that time. In
particular, as already suggested, the well in Wâdi Gasus may have provided at least part
of the water needed at the site of the Middle Kingdom harbour at Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis
(Manzo 2011, 222).
259
34 Also the few Nubian sherds from the pottery survey seem to confirm links with the site
of Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis. More specifically, the two rim sherds seem to verify
connections between the assemblages from this area of the Egyptian Eastern Desert and
more southerly regions of Nubia and possibly even Eastern Sudan. Actually, some of the
Nubian materials from Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis may be traces of groups of Nubians
participating in Egyptian expeditions in this sector of the Eastern Desert, while some
others, different from the Nubian materials usually occurring in the Egyptian and
Lower Nubian Nile valley sites, may, perhaps, be ascribed to local inhabitants of the
Eastern Desert or, in some cases, were considered as imported from more southerly
regions, possibly on the occasion of the Egyptian maritime expeditions (Manzo 2012,
225-229). Given their typology, all these should be regarded as possible interpretations
also for the Nubian materials from Wâdi Gasus.
35 The continuation of research on the ceramic collections from the ‘Graeco-Roman
Station’ in Wâdi Gasus will certainly provide further insights into the organization and
management of the exploitation of this sector of the Eastern Desert in Middle Kingdom
times and into the likely connection between this site and the harbor of Marsa/Wâdi
Gawasis.
A. Manzo
Gold mining site

36 In 2012 and 2015 we conducted short visits to a mining site (Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a,
pp. 85-88, Site 7): this must be identified with a mine visited by Rosemarie and Dietrich
Klemm (Klemm, Klemm 2013, pp. 84-86: 5.2.6), as may be confirmed by comparing
satellite images of both itineraries. However, we must stress that the ‘…abundant
green-glazed pottery’ recorded by the German scholars has not been observed by us at
all. Although other mineral resources were probably also mined here, fine-grained
tailings point to gold as the principal mining activity at this small site (Fig. 18-19). The
amount of material processed here can be calculated by the dimensions of the tailings,
around 450 m3.23 The metal was extracted in opencast trenches from quartz veins
present in the granite formation of the area, as is clearly visible in a picture taken in
2012 near Umm el Howeitat el Bahri24 (Fig. 20).Two washing-tables, partly rock-cut and
partly built (Fig. 21), lay side by side not far from the tailings area (Klemm, Klemm
2013, pp. 17-18).
Fig. 18
260
Gold mining site, area of tailings.

© V. Zoppi
Fig. 19
Gold mining site, detail of one of the tailing.

© V. Zoppi
Fig. 20
261
Opencast trench near Umm el Howeitat el Bahri.

© V. Zoppi
Fig. 21
Gold mining site, washing table: in the centre, irregular breach with
drainage function.
© R. Pirelli
37 We have now mapped only part of the site (Fig. 22). The only structure known here,
rectangular in plan and built of slabs, possesses a commanding view over some 40 ‘huts’
densely packed in the limited space of the lower part of the site. It probably
accommodated those in control (Fig. 23). Huts are built of unworked, dry rounded
boulders with no sign of modifications or architectural features, such as niches or
jambs. (Fig. 24-26). The site, therefore, appears to have had a short life: its layout would
suggest people working side by side for a limited period of time. The uniformity
262
displayed in setting out the site and in the type of huts would point to a form of
controlled activity.
Fig. 22
Gold mining site, map of the area with huts (in yellow) and rectangular
building (in red).
Fig. 23
Gold mining site, rectangular building (photogrammetry: G. Ciucci, A.

Lena).
© G. Ciucci, A. Lena
Fig. 24
263
Gold mining site, ‘hut’.

© V. Zoppi
Fig. 25

© G. Lucarini
Fig. 26
264

© R. Pirelli
38 Meyer (2011, pp. 166-173) points out in some detail the labour force, skills and
organization needed in order to process gold from rock mining; although our site is of
limited dimensions, her considerations can help us in posing questions on the working
and living conditions here.25 As far as we can judge from our limited activities, the
dearth of surface pottery and the lack of dumped debris would point to a low-scale
operation. Two fragmentary rims of Egyptian Red Slip A/Aswan ware, imitating 6th c.
African Red Slip forms (Hayes 1972, p. 389, Fig. 85e), the wall of a shallow bowl with
painted decoration, fragments of walls and handles of Egyptian amphorae (“Late
Roman 7”), the bottom and ring handle of a “Late Roman 6” amphora (Fig. 27-28)
(Dixneuf 2011, AE 5/6, pp. 142-145), all point to a late Roman-Byzantine chronology,
although a fragment of pottery dating to a late Pharaonic period (XXV/XXVI dynasty)
has also been identified (A. Manzo, pers. comm.). Moreover, a grinding stone probably
reused as crushing stone (Fig. 29) could point to an exploitation of the site prior to the
late Roman era. Here, it is important to observe that a careful, contextual analysis of
the epigraphic record could help to reconstruct the system of exploitation of the local
resources. In an area where the evidence is poor, where uncontrolled recent human
activities have occurred and where working conditions are arduous, this ‘traditional’
methodology can be of the utmost service to us: the more so as ‘returning to old sites
with new questions’, informed by a ‘global’ approach to the sites, is one of the declared
approaches of our research project. Analysis of the ‘Psammetik inscription’, indicating
a strong presence of Min in the inscribed landscape of the area, gives a deeper meaning
to this well known document (Pirelli in Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, 79-85; ead., below:
second group of inscriptions): its position marks the starting points of two extremely
important tracks, one leading to the rich water-spring of Bir Abu Gowah, still active
today (Fig. 30), the other to the mine, both part of the same ‘system’.
Fig. 27
265
Gold mining site, fragment of Egyptian Red Slip A/Aswan Ware.

© V. Zoppi
Fig. 28
Gold mining site, ring handle and wall of a ‘Late Roman 6’ amphora.
© R. Pirelli
Fig. 29
266
Gold mining site, grinding stone (reused as crushing stone?).

© I. Bragantini
Fig. 30
Spring of Bir Abu Gowah.

© R. Pirelli
39 Some epigraphic evidence illustrating the recurring presence of people involved in the
‘social activity’ of ‘inscribing the landscape’ has also been recorded: this is set on high
slabs of basalt, in the same ‘nodal’ point in the landscape26 (Fig. 31). Not far from this
area, a stray granite block features an important element, although difficult to make
sense of at the moment: might it be the last remains of a built structure, once housing
an inscription. This might explain the six slots preserved in its front face (Bragantini in
Bragantini, Pirelli 2012, p. 103) (Fig. 32).
267
Fig. 31
Petroglyphs with camels.

© R. Pirelli
Fig. 32
Granite block.
© V. Zoppi
40 Ample evidence of the periods the gold mining site was worked comes from rotary
grinding stones scattered there: most of them are made of basanite (Fig. 33) and
granodiorite (Fig. 34). A Roman date is usually proposed for these sorts of grindstones
(Meyer 2011, p. 153; Klemm, Klemm 2013, pp. 16-17), but this has been challenged
during the Colloquium by scholars favouring an Islamic one on the basis of still
268
unpublished findings from the French archaeological mission at Samut.27 Given the date
range assigned to these simple devices, both from Egypt and from sites in the rest of
the Empire (Meeks 1997; Longpierre 2012), one could suggest that earlier rotary
grinding stones could be reused in Islamic contexts.
Fig. 33
Gold mining site, base of a rotary grinding stone.

© I. Bragantini
Fig. 34
Gold mining site, rotary grinding stone.

© I. Bragantini
41 We face here the same problem we met at the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’: the lack of data
by which to reconstruct a coherent system of exploitation of the material resources of
269
the area and to understand the way this landscape changed over the time, i.e.: the way
new ‘functions’ and new ‘activities’, introduced by ‘new agents’, modified existing
situations, especially in terms of people involved in new and pre-existing activities.
42 Such data are not easily obtained without ‘proper’ excavation, an act though which, in
turn, poses problems of feasibility, in terms of time, costs and –last but not least–
pressure put by our own work on the local SCA inspectorates. As is only to be expected,
work carried out up to now has raised new questions and problems, but the problems of
site conservation will soon make future campaigns extremely difficult to conduct.28
Recent human activities in the area

43 Finally, we have observed some interesting recent human activity, but not investigated
because of lack of time and expertise. It could certainly offer important prospects to
interested scholars. This consists of groups of a few rooms apiece, usually of small
dimensions, built with roughly cut local stones (mostly sandstone, although one site on
the bottom of Wâdi Gasus might have reused ancient stones from the ‘Graeco-Roman
Station’; Fig. 35). Pottery is usually present in abundance: ‘amphoras’ (two-handled
water containers, mostly in a creamy-coloured fabric) and cooking wares, whose shape,
fabric and technology have a ‘traditional’ look. Usually appearing in large fragments, it
is quite possible in some instances to completely reconstruct the vessels (Fig. 36).
Although we have not recorded these sites, two main ‘patterns’ can be visualized.
Pottery and other objects might be deposited in small dumps, away from the ‘living
quarters’; or they may still lie in situ in the very living areas, as if the site had been
rapidly abandoned (Fig. 37). Either circumstance would provide a vivid image of the
living conditions of those working here. ‘Traditional’ pottery is constantly associated
with other objects (tins, electric devices), pointing to a chronology around the middle
of the past century.
Fig. 35
Modern settlement in Wâdi Gasus, built with stones from the ‘Graeco-
Roman station’?
© V. Zoppi
270
Fig. 36
Traditional kitchen ware abandoned in a modern settlement.

© V. Zoppi
Fig. 37
Dumping area associated with modern settlement in Wâdi Gasus.

© V. Zoppi
44 The sites are likely to be related to phosphate mining activities, well attested by the
nearby ‘ghost city’ of Umm el Howeitat (Bragantini, Pirelli 2012, p. 113, note 148). This
last might well offer rich promise for a global research project in contemporary
archaeology (Fig. 38).
Fig. 38
271
Distant view of the city of Umm el Howeitat.

© I. Bragantini
Irene Bragantini
Diachronic human activity along the wâdis: from the

Middle Stone Age to the Classical period
45 The investigation of the archaeological evidence along the courses of the Wâdi Gasus,
Wâdi Gawasis, Wâdi Safaga and Wâdi Wasif, dealt with the following paramount
aspects:
1: Survey and excavation tests of the Miocene terrace where, the so-called ‘Graeco-
Roman Station’ is located. The portion of the terrace west of the Roman buildings
revealed the presence of several basalt cobble structures and steinplätze hearths.
2: Survey along the course of the Wâdi Gasus, Wâdi Gawasis, Wâdi Safaga and Wâdi
Wasif in order to detect possible evidence of Holocene and Pleistocene occupations on
top of the fluvial terraces.
Site of the ‘Graeco-Roman Station’

46 The site is located on a terrace commanding the Wâdi Gasus at about 8 km from the
coast (Fig. 39). The site’s surface deposit, where the archaeological evidence is clearly
visible, is a deflation surface characterized by a sandy aeolian deposit with basalt
gravels. On the terrace’s surface west of the Roman settlement, 8 basalt cobble
structures and 9 steinplätze hearths have been detected (Fig. 40). These features are
characterized by clusters of large basalt cobbles of fluvial origin, showing a tumulus
shape or an irregular circle or arch arrangement. In all these cases the diameter ranges
between c. 2 and 4 m. The nature of these features is not clear; the ones which show the
most typical tumulus-like shape could be interpreted as funerary structures, ritual
monuments or landmarkers. Larger and more structured tumuli, detected on the
272
northern edge of the Eastern Desert, and more specifically along the course of the Wâdi
Araba, have been interpreted as landmarkers (Tristant 2014, p. 33). The ones showing a
circular or arched shapes might have been foundations for huts whose superstructures
comprised perishable materials (hides and branches). Unfortunately, the entire area
shows traces of pirate excavations and almost all the features were vandalized. The
observation of the illegally excavated deposits, which are now visible as small mounds
in proximity of each pit, did not show the presence of any element of material culture.
The structures showing circular or arched shapes have parallels with the dwelling slab
structures of the Western Desert oases that date back to the Early and Mid Holocene
(Hamdan and Lucarini 2013; McDonald 2009), but it is also possible that the Wâdi Gasus
specimens might be stone clusters piled as blocks for the Roman buildings. A brief
survey carried out on the adjacent portion of the terrace, located ca. 150 m to the west,
revealed the presence of other basalt cobble structures.
Fig. 39
General map of the region with distribution of the archaeological sites

(EMSA: Early Middle Stone Age site; MSA: Middle Stone Age site; MSA/N:
site with mixed Middle Stone Age and Neolithic artefacts; N: Neolithic
site; RM: raw material procurement area; S1-RS: Site 1 – Roman Station)
(images Google Earth and wikimedia).
Fig. 40
273
Site 1 ‘Graeco-Roman Station’. Map of the site with distribution of the

archaeological features (map M. Barbarino).
© M. Barbarino
47 The 9 hearths detected on the surface of the terrace belong to the typical steinplätze
type fireplace, which are common from numerous sites of the Egyptian Western Desert
and are also known in other regions of the Sahara (Gabriel 1987; Gallinaro 2014). These
types of features can be usually related to ephemeral campsites of small groups of
nomadic hunters or herders who used to transit in the region, stopping in the area only
for a very short time. The examples we detected comprised clusters of basalt gravel or
small fractured cobbles usually arranged in a circle. In some cases the features are
quite well preserved and are characterized by small circular cobble mounds clearly
visible on the surface. In other instances, more weathered specimens show the basalt
gravel scattered in a wider area. These are often not as detectable on the surface due to
the similarity of the naturally blackish basalt cobbles and the burnt ones.
48 The whole terrace shows a high number of lithic artefacts scattered on the surface,
Roman and Middle Kingdom pottery sherds, shell fragments (the species Lambis lambis,
Tridacna maxima and Tricornis tricornis have been identified) that could have been
exploited as food. A few grinding stones and quartz pebbles have also been identified. A
large upper grinder manufactured in pink granite and showing one flat and highly
polished working surface is noteworthy. It has to be stressed that, whilst the historic
pottery is particularly rich on the eastern area of the site, in relation to the Roman
buildings and where the lithic artefacts are almost completely absent, moving towards
the western edge of the terrace, pottery sherds become scanty and the number of lithic
elements increases significantly.
49 Some lithic artefacts scattered on the surface –i.e. 2 small multiple platform cores and 6
retouched tools, including 3 denticulates, 2 sidescrapers and 1 notch– have been
collected; no curated artefacts have been found. The opportunistic character of the
types detected, mainly used for scraping activities and quickly manufactured using
locally available flint, does not permit us to assign these materials to any specific
cultural horizon. Comparison with similar materials coming from the Egyptian Western
Desert (Lucarini 2014) suggests a Mid Holocene exploitation of the area, possibly
274
around c. 6000 BC even if an association with the later Roman remains present in the
area cannot also be ruled out (Fig. 3, a-d). Conversely, 3 highly patinated sidescrapers
and 1 denticulate manufactured on Levallois flakes surely attest an earlier occupation of
the area that dates back to the Middle Stone Age (hereafter MSA) (Fig. 41, e-h).
Fig. 41
Site 1. Lithic artefacts; a: core; b-d: denticulates; e: notch; f, g: MSA

sidescrapers; h: MSA denticulate.
© G. Lucarini
50 The manufacturing and use of stone tools was a common practice even during historic
times, and this was testified by the excavation of ‘Hearth 1’, one of the 9 steinplätze
present in the area. This feature was mapped with a north oriented, 1x1 m, grid
including the entire scattering area of the surface gravel and lithic artefacts (Fig. 42a).
The surface collection yielded 85 debitage elements (1 core side, 3 flakes, 62 chunks and
19 chips) and 2 retouched tools (1 sidscraper and 1 notch on backed flake). Considering
the high amount of working debris that was found, it is likely that this area may have
been devoted to knapping activities.
51 The stratigraphy of the feature shows a superficial (c. 1 cm thick) layer made up of
loose yellow aeolian sands mixed with blackish basalt angular gravel. The hearth stones
are larger basalt cobbles. The underlying deposit (Layer I) is made up of yellow and
slightly consolidated aeolian sands (c. 3 cm thick), which are mixed with ash and
charcoal in correspondence to the hearth’s core (Fig. 42b). A charcoal sample was AMS
dated to 1907±45 bp – 230 cal. AD (LTL16488A). Layer I deposit yielded only 5 lithic
artefacts, among which 1 core side, 1 blade and 3 chunks. The hearth deposit was
overlaying a sterile hard whitish carbonatic sediment (caliche).
Fig. 42
275
Site 1. Steinplatz hearth 1; a: surface; b: layer I (grid: 1x1 m).

© G. Lucarini
52 Since a precise stratigraphic correspondence is not available thus far, we cannot be

sure whether this evidence of human presence in the area during the 3rd century AD
can be related to workers involved in the activities carried out in the Roman Station, or
whether the steinplatz type fireplace(s) are the remnants of temporary camps for
nomadic groups.
Survey - Wâdi Gasus, Wâdi Gawasis, Wâdi Safaga,

Wâdi Wasif
53 A survey has been carried out along the course of the Wâdi Gasus, Wâdi Gawasis, Wâdi
Safaga and Wâdi Wasif (Fig. 43). The prehistoric sites are mainly concentrated on the
terraces on the sides of the wâdi. A total of 5 Neolithic sites, 6 MSA sites and 2 areas
showing both the presence of Neolithic and MSA materials have been detected (cfr.
Fig. 39). These sites are mainly lithic assemblages or lithic workshop areas. No grinding
stones have been found and there is no association between lithics and Pharaonic or
Roman pottery. No tumuli, circular structures or hearths have been detected.
Sometimes the lithic assemblages are connected with raw material (chert) procurement
areas, which are also abundant along the wâdis. Along a tributary wâdi connecting
Wâdi Gasus and Wâdi Gawasis, a group of MSA sites have been found. One of these
yielded outstanding finds: a fractured bifacial handaxe and a hacheraux-like tool, that
can be ascribed to an early stage of the MSA occupation of the region (Fig. 44).
Substantial evidence of human occupation of the region during the Early MSA came
from Sodmein Cave, located c. 40 km north-north-west of Quseir and only c. 30 km
south, south-east of the areas investigated by our team. Sodmein Cave is one of the very
few contexts in North Africa which yielded MSA evidence in a secure and well-dated
stratigraphic sequence (Moeyersons et al. 2002; Veermersch et al. 1994). In particular,
the lower MSA layer of the cave, attributed to the Early Nubian complex, has been
dated to c. 115,000 years ago (Mercier et al. 1999, p. 1344). During this period, the cave’s
deposit yielded evidence for a wet climate outside the cave, probably characterized by a
savanna environment (Moeyersons et al. 2002, p. 847).
Fig 43
276
Bir Wasif.
© G. Lucarini
Fig. 44
Early MSA bifacial handaxe found along the wâdi connecting Wâdi Gasus
and Wâdi Gawasis.
© G. Lucarini
277
54 Evidence of intensive exploitation of the region during the Holocene is also already
well-known from Sodmein Cave and from Tree Shelter, a rock shelter located only 1 km
from Sodmein Cave. Both of these sites yielded clear evidence of an occupation of the
region during the Holocene, with dates ranging from 5500 to 5000 BC in Sodmein Cave
and from 5700 to 3700 BC in Tree Shelter (Linseele et al. 2010, p. 820; Vermeersch 2008).
Sodmein Cave is also the site which yielded the oldest evidence of domesticated
caprines in North Africa (Vermeersch et al. 2015).
55 As for the northern edge of the Eastern Desert, presence of Neolithic sites is attested
along the course of the Wâdi Araba (Tristant 2010). A steinplatz dated to c. 4800-4500 BC
is also reported from the site ME03/10/24, along wâdi Bili, inland from El Gouna. This
structure was interpreted as a temporary camp for nomadic herder groups
(Vermeersch et al. 2005).
Giulio Lucarini
The Pharaonic inscriptions of Wâdi Gasus in context29

56 Three groups of Pharaonic inscriptions have been discovered so far in Wâdi Gasus, the
proposed division being based on the nature of their content:
- the 1st group includes two Middle Kingdom inscriptions; James Burton and John
Gardner Wilkinson stated that they found them in the “Graeco-Roman station” of Wâdi
Gasus;
- the 2nd group was discovered by James Burton in 1820’s and studied, for the first time,
by Georg Schweinfurth at the end of the same century; it comprises a great scene of the
time of Psametik I and a number of short royal and private texts devoted to the god
Min, most of them engraved between the end of the III Intermediate Period and the
26th dynasty;
- the 3rd group was recorded by Leo Arthur Tregenza in the 1950s and comprises three
texts engraved in a lead mine of the 26th dynasty, in Wâdi Roussas (a tributary of Wâdi
Gasus);
Memory of the 2nd and 3 rd group of documents was almost lost, partly because they
have been unfortunately removed or destroyed.30
First group of Pharaonic inscriptions: the Middle

Kingdom “stelae”
57 Although both the inscriptions are rather well preserved, and have been previously
studied and published more than once,31 their original collocation and context are far
from being definitely solved. One of the most debated questions regards the place of
their alleged discovery by James Burton and John Gardner Wilkinson in the “Graeco-
Roman Hydreuma”32 in Wâdi Gasus.
58 In Sotheby’s catalogue for the auction of 25th July 1836, Burton describes the two
documents as follows:
59 “A tablet of basalt, found in a small temple in Wâdi-Jasoos, on the shores of the Red Sea.
The sculpture in is Intaglio and the “Cartouche” gives the Prenom of Pharoah (sic)
Osirtesen the Second” and then “This is an exceedingly interesting Tablet from the
278
circumstances of having been found in the immediate vicinity of a station, and of some
extensive mines, the high antiquity of the workings of which it tends to prove”
(Fig. 45).
Fig. 45
Khnumhotep’s “stela” found by Wilkinson in the “station” of Wâdi Gasus

(drawing by Burton, Mss ADD. 25629, 49).
© Burton
60 “Another Royal Tablet in Basalt; found in the same temple in which the sculpture is
also in Intaglio. The “Cartouche” here gives the Prenom of the Pharoah Amun-M-Gori?
who lived about sixteen hundred and twenty years before Christ, immediately after the
death of Joseph. The inscription on it gives the twenty-eighth year of his reign, and on
it he is represented making offering to Khem” and then “No other tablet or inscription
having been found in this neighbourhood, it would appear that the station and mines
were abandoned at no very remote period from this date” (Fig. 46).33.
Fig. 46
279
Khentykhetywr’s “stela” found by Burton (drawing by Burton, Mss ADD.

25629, 50).
© Burton
61 The first “tablet” is the stela of Khnumhotep, which bears the date of the first year of
the reign of Senuseret II (found by Wilkinson), and mentions tՅ-nṯr; while the latter is
that of Khentikhetyur, dated to the 28th regnal year of Amenemhat II, which mentions
Punt (found by Burton).34
62 More than 100 years later, Abdel Monem Sayed visited the site of Wâdi Gasus during a
survey of this region, with the purpose of finding the “port” of Saww mentioned in the
latter stela. After a season’s work on the site, he stated that neither the archaeological
evidence nor the architectural remains could be dated earlier than the Graeco-Roman
era and, for this reason, the station could not be the original context of the two Middle
Kingdom documents. So he proceeded southwards up the coast to the site of Marsa
Gawasis already mentioned by Burton, Weill and Tregenza.35 Here the archaeological
situation was completely different, as almost all the findings were found to date from
the 12th dynasty. Sayed thus hypothesized that the “stelae” originated from here and
that they were later re-employed at the “station”.
63 New archaeological data, however, have altered our views about the “station” in Wâdi
Gasus:36 the results of a surface survey by A. Manzo on the site 37 have been recently
confirmed by a more systematic surface collection by A. Lena and I. Incordino, who
have registered that 18% of the pottery from the site dates to the Middle Kingdom,38
thus removing the chronological incompatibility of the “stelae” in respect of a possible
original location in the “station”.
280
64 Starting from these new data, I decided to examine the question in depth, due to some
doubts deriving above all from their texts. Thus, I collected and reviewed all the
information at my disposal, including Burton’s book-notes kept in the British Library.39
65 In Sayed’s opinion, the mention of the port on the “stela” of Khentykhetyur confirmed
that its original location should be on the coast and not in a wâdi.40 He assumed,
moreover, that the other stela might also have the same provenance. However, if we
observe the plate of Wilkinson that Sayed published in a detailed paper (in Arabic,
Fig. 47),41 we will see that the British explorer placed only one of the “stelae” on his
map of the “station”, while he provided no indication for the second “tablet”. Burton,
nonetheless, stated that he had found the second stela “in the same small temple at
Aenum”. He later took both of them to Britain and put them on sale in the same auction
at Sotheby’s. How should we interpret this? We could suppose, either that both were in
the same place and that Wilkinson saw only one of them, or that the second “stela” was
found in a different place, although not very far from the other. Moreover, in some
notes in Burton’s diary of 18th April 1831 we read:
‘Leave Aboo Gowah at 25 minutes before 1.
At the entrance of the wady Eastward it becomes wide… We passed the Chapel of
Osirtesen! again and proceeded onwards to the Sea winding around amongst the
hills into another wady so as not to fall upon the Coast too far South and arrived at
a little port with ancient alàms in 3h 25’- but we came out of our way and I believe
we could have done it in 3 hours or (as we rode)= 15 miles. At the end of Wâdi
Djasoos must be the ancient town upon the coast I saw the first journey I made
along here This must be Philoteras?”.42
Fig. 47
Sayed’s plate with the spot of the stela found by Wilkinson (Sayed 1978).
© A.M. Sayed
66 He evidently calls “Chapel of Osirtesen” the place where Wilkinson had found the stela
from the time of Senuseret II, but says nothing about the other one. In this regard, in
his paper of 1953, Meredith states that: “Inside a small temple at ‘Aenum’ Wilkinson
found and copied a Sesostris II stela and it may be here (a hint in one of his rough maps
suggests another site nearer the sea) that Burton found a second Twelfth Dynasty stela,
281
of the previous reign (Ammenems II)”.43 It is also interesting to remark that when
Burton proceeded eastward, he did not follow the main Wâdi Gasus, but turned slightly
southward and reached the coast and a site with ancient “alàms”,44 evidently the site of
Marsa Gawasis. This route fits well with the itinerary suggested by Weill to go from
Wâdi Gasus to Wâdi Gawasis.45 Could Burton have found “his stela” along this route? In
this regard, it is interesting to observe more carefully his drawings. In his block-notes,
two details of the “stela” of Khentykhetywr were particularly revealing (see Fig. 46):
the decoration does not occupy the whole polished surface, but it leaves a blank basis at
the bottom; moreover, unlike the other “stela”, this one is represented from a ¾ view,
and this made it possible to realize that its back was not finished: the “stela” in other
words was not formed as a slab to be embedded in a structure (as the stelae from the
nearby site of Marsa Gawasis, for instance),46 but it looked to be directly carved on a
rock wall from which it was roughly detached. The same consideration could be drawn
observing with greater attention the two pictures of the “stelae” published in 1976 by
Nibbi,47 where it appeared to me that both the monuments were not originally movable
objects: their present stela-shape appeared to be the issue of a conservative
intervention, following their removal from Egypt. If this were true, there would be an
interesting implication: originally, the two documents were neither erected in a built
wall, nor embedded in a rock wall, so that their primary collocation should be looked
for in a different site, although probably not far from the “station”.48 To check this
hypothesis, I contacted Rachel Grocke, Deputy Curator of the Durham University
Museums, who sent me the records of the two monuments and an extract of a report
along with some pictures taken during the conservative intervention on the “stela”
found by Wilkinson. Both the artefacts confirmed to be “basalt”49 blocks detached from
a rock wall and exposed in the shape of a stela (Fig. 48, 49).50
Fig. 48
282
Block with Khentykhetywr’s inscription (Courtesy of the Durham

University Museum).
© Durham University Museum
Fig. 49
Block with Khnumhotep’s inscription (courtesy of the Durham University

Museum).
67 I thought that their material, moreover, might help us to suggest their origin:
theoretically, it could not be –as proposed by Sayed– in the lower course of Wâdi
Gawasis,51 where a rock of coral origin characterizes the terraces; their original location
could preferably be looked for in the same Wâdi Gasus with its greywacke outcrops.
These considerations lead me to check the possibility that such a situation could be
looked for in the small wâdi connecting Wâdi Gasus to Wâdi Gawasis.
68 My hypothesis was checked during the last campaign, in 2015. Based on a previous
analysis of the area through Google Earth, we identified a wâdi, likely to be the right
one: travel by car was very fast (15 minutes) and without obstacles and, on the way
back, the path was easy and comfortable to walk through. However, the geological
nature of the wâdi (mostly evaporates with flint pebbles) also revealed to us that this
could not be the site of provenance of the two Middle Kingdom inscriptions.52
69 Thus, where were these inscriptions originally placed? We can suggest two hypotheses:
- the blocks were roughly detached from a rock wall in an inner part of the wâdi and
then transported to Marsa Gawasis, to be erected not in a wall, but in a structure built
of dry-piled stones, similar to one of the circular shrines on the terrace;53
- the inscriptions were carved directly on the rock wall, which functioned as a very
simple cult place, similar to the later Paneia,54 scattered in many wâdis of the Eastern
Desert.55
70 The first hypothesis would mean to go back to Sayed’s theory. However, after more
than 10 years’ investigation of the Italian-American mission in Wâdi/Marsa Gawasis, we
have new information about the port.56 Numerous documents have been brought to
light, adding significant details on the typology, chronology and distribution of the
epigraphic materials. On the base of these new data, we can say that the content of the
two inscriptions from Wâdi Gasus perfectly fit Type I stelae found on the site,57 and,
considering their chronology, they could come from the coral terrace above the Marsa.
58.
283
71 A newly discovered limestone stela in Wâdi Gawasis (WG 29) –to be inserted in Type I–
can be usefully included in our discussion. The stela was found outside the entrance to
Cave 8, at the northwestern edge of the site,59 inside the wâdi, but, according to the
archaeologists of the mission, it may have slid down from (a structure?) above. In
year 2 of the reign of Senuseret II, the herald Henenu “arrived at the temple of Min,
according to the desire of his Majesty”. Interestingly its date immediately follows that
of the inscription of Khnumhotep, which bears the date of the first year of Senuseret II
and tells “Year one: establishing his monument in Ta-netjer” (Fig. 45). I think this
might be seen as a clue that the two texts could refer to one and the same monument
and that the inscription of Khnumhotep was recording an event that did happen in this
area, between Marsa Gawasis and Wâdi Gasus. On this matter, however, we must stress
that the “stela” of Khnumhotep is the only one, among the inscriptions we are dealing
with, that is devoted to the god Soped and not to Min. In this region, however, the two
gods share several features and some epithets, and are surly linked to each other, even
by means of assimilation with other deities.60 Furthermore, the inscription of
Khnumhotep is among the oldest inscriptions recorded in this area, so that it could be
conjectured that, in this phase, Min had not yet become the undisputed “Lord” of the
region. This is confirmed also by the inscription of the other and earlier stela of our
First group, that of Khentykhetyur, which is devoted both to Haroeris and to Min of
Coptos.
72 This does not, however, solve the question of where the two monuments of our First
group were erected. If we suggest it could have been in Marsa Gawasis, a difficult
question challenges our hypothesis, because, as we have seen, the versos of the blocks
are not worked and flattened, like the other stelae found in Wâdi/Marsa Gawasis
(including that of Henenu). However, we could suggest that they might have been
erected in structures built of dry-piled stones, as those of the private monuments found
on the terrace above Marsa Gawasis, where different kinds of epigraphic supports have
been found, such as limestone slabs or reused anchors. As the two inscriptions are
clearly of a private nature, I do not think it is likely to propose a second possibility, i.e.
that they were erected in a state cult chapel or temple, considering also that no such a
structure has been found thus far in Marsa/Wâdi Gawasis.
73 However –due to their particular condition– I am not convinced that we can exclude at
all a location at a different site. This leads us to my second hypothesis, i.e. that their
original place was somewhere else, at a site where their function was not only to
commemorate the achievements of the Egyptian officials they represent, but also to
mark a sacred place along the route between the Red Sea and the Valley. My suggestion
is that it might be close to the second group of Pharaonic inscriptions and graffiti, in
Wâdi Gasus.
Second group of Pharaonic inscriptions: a Pharaonic

“Paneion”?61
74 The second group of inscriptions comprises a number of short royal and private texts
devoted to the god Min, which were carved between the end of the III Intermediate
Period and the 26th dynasty.
284
75 According to earlier explorers (Schweinfurth, Tregenza)62 and others who visited the
area during the last few decades (Klemm and Klemm),63 on the northern side of Wâdi
Gasus, a great scene devoted to Amon-Ra and Min was engraved in the time of
Psametik I. Unfortunately, we could not find it, and, after a long search, both on the
field and in literature, I came to the conclusion that it is no longer present at its
original site. It was removed some decades ago, as a local guide had already informed
us during our first short survey in 2012. The picture (Fig. 50) taken by Joachim Quack
between 1992 and 199464 shows that only a small portion of the wall (with two
cartouches) was still preserved, while a “Great scene of Psametik I” had been already
removed by cutting along the rock veins. During our last survey in 2015, we visited the
place, thanks to the coordinates provided by our colleagues, and ascertained that,
unfortunately, also this small portion of the rock wall with the cartouche had also been
since removed. Already before learning about this, we had decided to designate as
Site 4 the spot where this scene should be. The site proved to be just opposite the
mouth of a wâdi ending in the wide round basin of Bir Abu Gowah, an important water
source, probably active until recent times.
Fig. 50
Picture of the cartouches of the two “Divine adoratresses” (Courtesy of

J.F. Quack, Photo 1992-1994).
© J.F. Quack
76 Burton first saw and drew the scene,65 then Wagner drew it, again, for Schweinfurth
who published it in his long article on Wâdi Gasus in 1885. This was accompanied by an
appendix by Erman with some notes on the scene and its inscriptions.66 It was
eventually photographed by Tregenza (1951) and Leclant (1952),67 and published by
Vikentiev.68 In recent years, part of its inscriptions have been the object of new studies
by scholars dealing with the chronology of the final phase of the Third Intermediate
Period and the beginning of the 26th Dynasty.69
77 Despite the remarkable interest it has aroused since its discovery, the “grand
composition rupestre de Wâdi Gasus”, as Vikentiev called it, was described in all its
details only recently by the present writer.70
285
78 Most publications focus either on a limited part of the composition (the “main scene”,
see below) or on specific passages of the inscriptions. Vikentiev himself employed
Wagner’s drawings and part of Burton’s, the latter having been sent to him by
Meredith, who had copied only the central part of the scene, the same photographed by
Tregenza and then by Leclant.71
79 In recent times, the image was published in full only once, and on the basis of Wagner’s
drawing, which is not very accurate.72
80 Thus, to provide a comprehensive description of the scene, we need to take into
account all the versions at our disposal: Burton’s drawings (Fig. 51),73 Wagner’s copy
(Fig. 52), Vikentiev’s drawing (Fig. 53), along with Tregenza’s and Leclant's photographs
(Fig. 54, 55).
Fig. 51
Burton’s drawing of the “Great scene” of Psametik I in Wâdi Gasus (Mss

ADD. 25629, 48).
© Burton
Fig. 52
286
Wagner’s drawing of the “Great scene” of Psametik I in Wâdi Gasus

(Schweinfurth, 1885).
© Wagner
Fig. 53
Vikentiev’s drawing of the “Great scene” of Psametik I in Wâdi Gasus

(Vikentiev 1956).
© V. Vikentiev
Fig. 54
287
Tregenza’s photograph of the “main scene” of Psametik I (Vikentiev

1956).
© V. Vikentiev
Fig. 55
Leclant’s photograph of the “main scene” of Psametik I (Vikentiev 1956).

© V. Vikentiev
81 As to its dimensions, we can only hypothesize that the scene was about 3-3.5 m wide
and 1.5-2 m high, on the basis of the approximate size given by Schweinfurth, i.e.,
6 square meters,74 and its height to width ration, calculated on Wagner’s drawing.
82 The main scene shows three royal figures on the left facing two gods on the right (of
the viewer). According to our hypothetical reconstruction, the height of the figures
does not exceed 85 cm. They stand on a long line representing the horizontal surface of
the perch of the god Min. Psametik I is depicted in the middle in the act of offering two
globular vases to Amon-Ra and Min. The king –whose name is inscribed in a cartouche
above his headdress– wears the white crown with the uraeus, the wsḫt collar, and the
šndyt. Interestingly, as Vikentiev already remarked, the image lacks its own caption,
288
the king being mentioned only in the caption for his daughter Nitocris, who stands
behind him: “Daughter of King Psametik, the Divine Adoratress Nitocris”. Amon Ra –
whose name is inscribed above him with the epithet nb nswt tՅwy–75 wears a double-
plume headdress with a sun disk, and holds the wՅs sceptre in his right hand and the
ᒼnḫ sign in his left hand. Behind him is the ithyphallic god Min wearing the same
headdress. According to Vikentiev, the inscription referring to him says “Min of the
Mines,76 and Horus, Isis, the Coptites”, recognising in the first part the same epithet of
the god as that inscribed at the entrance of the lead mine of Site 3 (see below).77 His
image is only shorter (almost imperceptibly) than Amon Ra’s.
83 On the other side, behind Psametik, are two female figures, both of them slightly taller
than the king. It is the king’s daughter and Divine Adoratress, Nitocris, followed by her
adoptive mother Shepenupet II, defined as “her mother, God’s Wife, Shepenupet,
mՅᒼ(t) ḫrw, daughter of king Pye,78 mՅᒼ ḫrwᒼ. Both the priestesses wear the double-
plume headdress, the uraeus, and the wsḫt collar, and hold in their right hand an ᒼnḫ
sign, the only difference being in their coiffure (Nitocris wears a short bag wig,
Shepenupet long tripartite hair). While Nitocris is actively participating in the offering,
as indicated by the gesture of adoration of her left arm, Shepenupet is merely assisting
her daughter, with her left hand on her shoulder. All the inscriptions (even those
referring to the gods) face right, including two private names, those of Wenamun and
Paynekhet, respectively to left and below the scene. The position, sizes and attitudes of
the figures and the texts referring to them indicate that the central figure is the Divine
Adoratrice Nitocris, not Psametik I.79
84 Around the main scene, seven smaller groups of figures and texts are engraved, five
depicting the ityphallic god Min facing right (Groups 1-5), one group containing two
short vertical inscriptions with cartouches (Group 6); and the last group showing the
god Amon-Ra facing left (Group 7: not present in Wagner’s copy). These groups,
however, are only reproduced in Burton’s original drawing80 and in Schweinfurth’s
copy, which is, however, far less accurate.
85 Generally speaking, we remark that several details are differently rendered in the two
versions: the style and sizes of the figures of the lesser groups, their position in respect
to the figures of the main scene, their texts and even the accuracy of the engraving.
Moreover while Wagner’s drawing reproduces the whole scene as organized on the
rock wall, Burton’s drawing, although more accurate, is reproduced on two different
pages of his block-notes, the two parts not being on the same scale (Fig. 51). Moreover,
while Wagner reproduced only a few hieroglyphic signs, Burton’s copy allows us to
realize that the texts –all but one dedicated to the god Amon– perfectly match the
typology of dedication texts to Min, as found also in Wâdi Hammamat.
86 A complete description of the seven groups of images and short inscriptions was
published by the writer in 2013;81 here I am going to summarize their content briefly.
87 Scenes 1 to 5 show the god Min and, in front of him, an inscription devoted to him,
sometimes accompanied by a kneeling human figure. Where the inscription is readable
on Burton’s drawings, I could recognize names datable to the Late Period and verify
that some of them are also present in contemporaneous inscriptions in Wâdi
Hammamat.82 In any case, they cannot be earlier than the offering scene of Psametik I
and Nitocris, a datum which can be confirmed also by the fact that the surface on which
the “great scene” is carved, was flattened and smoothed, eventually erasing what was
engraved earlier.
289
88 In one scene only (Group 7), the god Amon and not Min receives offerings, in this case
by a royal figure. I am inclined to think that this scene could be earlier both for its style
(detectable in the accurate drawings of Burton) and for its position. Only some traces
are visible, just above the main scene, in the photographs by Tregenza and Leclant (see
Fig. 54, 55), but it seems that the smoothing of the lower surface, partly affected the
feet of the god.
89 The sixth group is completely different from the others, and is formed by the
cartouches of two more divine adoratresses, Amenirdis and Shepenupet, preceded,
respectively by “12th Regnal Year” and “19th Regnal year” and followed by the
expression ᒼnḫ.tỉ. The interpretation of the dates and the identification of the two
priestesses have been much debated. According to Kitchen, they should be identified as
Amenirdis I and Shepenupet I,83 while in a recent study, Jurman suggested that they
could be Amenirdis I and Shepenupet II.84 In all cases, the cartouches prove to have
been engraved earlier than the great scene, both if we accept Kitchen’s interpretation,
who recognizes Shepenupet I, and if we favour Jurman’s hypothesis, who is inclined to
identify Shepenupet II: she is here defined “living”, while in the great scene she is
“deceased”.
90 As we mentioned above, the position of this scene at the outflow of a wâdi leading to a
water source is no coincidence. There must be a connection with the exploitation of the
area. The cartouches of Amenirdis and Shepenupet and the scene with Amon clearly
prove that the site was not inaugurated by Psametik I, and that the inscriptions on the
rock wall should be an important signal, probably addressed to expeditions arriving
here to exploit mines and/or caves in the surrounding area. In this respect, it is useful
to recall that, on the mining site (re)discovered by the Italian mission in 2012 (see
above) and mainly dated to the late Roman period, we also collected one sherd dating
back to the 25th/26th dynasty and one grinding stone which could also be earlier.
91 Shall we cautiously propose that the Middle Kingdom inscriptions of Khentykhetyur
and Khnumhotep also come from here, and that this rock wall should be interpreted as
a sort of Pharaonic Paneion?85 Unfortunately, this hypothesis cannot be confirmed as
the site has been completely destroyed (Fig. 56).
Fig. 56
290
The supposed rock wall, where the offering scene of Psametik I and
Nitokris should stay.
© R. Pirelli, 2015
92 The monumental size of the “main scene”, however, indicates that, in the 26th dynasty
Egyptian institutions (both the king and the Office of the Divines Adoratrices, the “pr-
dwՅt-nṯr”) had a strong interest in the exploitation of the area and of a lead mine, not
too distant from this site, where the Third group of inscriptions was found.
Third group of Pharaonic inscriptions: area of the lead

mine
93 With the help of a local guide, we reached the lead mine identified by Tregenza in 1951.
It opens in the upper course of a large wâdi, which starts in a north-south direction,
swerves east-westward, and finally flows into Wâdi Gasus, about 1.5 km east of the
“Greek-Roman Station”.
94 About halfway up the steep western wall of the wâdi are three circular shafts dug with
great precision. They are protected by small walls of large stones and open more or less
at the same level along what appears to be a fairly regular path. At a first quick
exploration, the incline of the wells, which is almost vertical for the first few meters,
then becomes less steep and expands into a sort of chamber, from which tunnels
branch out.
95 At the entrance of one of these chambers (Fig. 57) we located the hieroglyphic
inscription (Fig. 58) copied by Tregenza and mentioned in his publication.86 Although
he misinterpreted the identity of Min Biaty, taking him to be the Chancellor of Thebes
instead of a god, he gave correct information about the general content of this short
291
inscription and of two longer texts engraved on a “small stela” –actually little more
than an oblong block of granite, barely beveled–, which had been previously found
close to the entrance87 by the Bedouins who had accompanied him.88
Fig. 57
The entrance of one of the chambers of the lead mine; the arrow
indicates the spot of the short inscription.
© R. Pirelli, 2012
Fig. 58
The short inscription at the entrance of one of the chambers of the lead
mine.
© R. Pirelli, 2012
96 In his accurate study, Vikentiev found the short text (Inscription C) to be a cryptic label
recording the name of the mine, its nature, and the name of the god who created it:
“Lead mine, created by the god Min of the Mines”: “[tՅ bỉՅyt] ms (n) Mỉn bỉՅty dḥty]”.89
Unfortunately, as can be seen from two photographs taken 60 years apart, and then
again in 2015 (figs. 58, 59, 60), only 2/3 of the inscription was preserved in 2012, while
in 2015 we found it completely and intentionally erased with a stone, while a Islamic
religious inscription was added using a charcoal stick.
Fig. 59
292
The text of the short inscription (photo Tregenza 1951 in Vikentiev 1956).
© L.A. Tregenza
Fig. 60
Galena mine: hieroglyphic inscription, intentionally destroyed.

© R. Pirelli, 2015
97 Vikentiev also studied the two texts on the stela90 (inscription A and B)91 where the
name of the mine is repeated twice, but written more in full (Fig. 61). The text on the
recto states that in Year 14 (?) of Psammetichus I, the mine was placed in the charge of
Padiusir at the behest of Montuemhat, Fourth Priest of Amon. Padiusir’s task was to
find a “good way” to get there. The shorter text on one of the sides concludes that,
having found the path, the expedition, led by Messhesy (probably a local guide),
reached the mine in the “Land of the Living” and an offering was presented to the god
Min (?).92
Fig. 61
293
Facsimile of the “small stela” by Tregenza.

© V. Vikentiev, 1956
98 Neither Tregenza nor Vikentiev provided any information about the destination of the
stela when it was removed by “M. Simpson [the local director of the Anglo-Egyptian
Phosphate Co., A/N]... (qui) mis très aimablement à notre disposition la pierre en nous
l'expédiant dans un emballage spécial, excluant toute possibilité d'endommagement
pendant son transfert sur les pistes cahoteuses du désert oriental”.93
99 I think that, on a preliminary basis, it may be useful to focus on some of the interesting
insights these texts provide, which call for more thorough investigation in future
missions. A first point to focus on is the enigmatic nature of the short inscription.
According to Vikentiev, “cet ingénieux camouflage nous fait penser que, pour une
raison ou pour une autre, on a jugé nécessaire de tenir secret le contenu de la mine de
plomb de Wâdi Roussas”94 during the whole period during which the mine was
exploited. The texts of the small “stela” should be, in his opinion, later than the short
label (inscription C); more precisely, they should date back to the end of the extraction
period, when it was no longer necessary to conceal the nature of the site.
100 The content of the two texts, however, does not seem to fully back Vikentiev’s
interpretation. The search for a “good way” to get to the mine and the offerings
dedicated to a god at the end of an expedition crowned with success seem more
consistent with the first steps of an enterprise rather than the final stages of an
activity.
101 For this reason, I agree with Vikentiev that text C was written at the time of the
discovery of the mine by the team of scouts, probably lead by Messhesy, but I think that
texts A and B were written earlier than he supposes: not at the end of the exploitation
of the mine, but at the time of arrival of the workers and the soldiers charged with
294
protecting both the workers and the site. In other words, the texts celebrate the official
start of extraction activities.
102 The high value that the Egyptians attributed to the mine is also confirmed, as
previously alluded to, by the large scene of offering by Psametik I and the divine
adoratress Nitocris.
103 This brings up the question of the reasons for such an interest in a lead mine, given
that this mineral was rather common in this region of the Eastern Desert.95 In this
regard, we must remember that lead is rarely found in nature as a primary ore: the ore
from which it is most frequently extracted is galena (lead sulphide, PbS), but it can also
be obtained from cerussite (lead carbonate, PbCO3), or from anglesite (lead sulphate,
PbSO4). One could suppose that –as in the case of the deposits of Gebel el Zeit–96 what
the Egyptians actually sought here was galena, from which they produced the well-
known eye cosmetic, which also had medicinal properties.97 However, the importance
of the site, proven by the content of the inscriptions and the scene of Psametik I, can
hardly be explained with the simple extraction of qohl, morevover at Gebel el Zeit the
product is referred to by the specific term of msdm.t, while in our case the word
employed is dḥty, commonly translated by Egyptologists as “lead”.98
104 As is well known, due to its chemical and physical properties, this metal was mainly
used in the past in different alloys. In Egypt, however, from the New Kingdom onward,
and even more during the Late Period, its proportion in copper alloys increased
significantly, from 1-5% to 20-25%.99 This must have caused an increase in the demand
for this metal –at least 5 times higher than before– which might well explain the
emphasis placed by Psametik I on the discovery of this new deposit.
105 A further hypothesis, however, should be considered. Lead ores are usually associated
with zinc and silver minerals. For this reason, in the past lead was often regarded as a
by-product of the extraction of silver.
106 In Egypt, similarly to what happens for lead, we witness –from the Third Intermediate
period onward– a considerable growth in the use of silver, used to fashion precious
artifacts wholly made of the metal (e.g., the sarcophagi of Tanis) or combining it with
other materials (e.g., statue of the Metropolitan Museum, MMA 30.8.93), or for
damascening.100
107 However, there is no consensus among scholars on the origin of the silver employed in
Egypt, although most agree that it was imported,101 differently from what was believed
at the beginning of the last century. According to data published by Alford in 1901, the
percentage of silver in galena from Gebel Gasus was about 85 g per ton.102 This quantity
may have been enough, considering advancements in extraction technology, to
warrant an attempt to produce silver from galena, or from one of the associated
minerals, especially cerussite. This would have led to a renewed interest in galena and
encouraged explorations to identify new deposits. On the basis of more recent analyses,
however, Stos-Gale and Gale103 have challenged the percentages indicated by Alford,
arguing that the content of silver in galena ores from the Eastern Desert is much lower
and ruling out that silver could have been extracted locally in Pharaonic times.
108 The current state of our investigation does not allow us to support our hypothesis with
any data other than those briefly presented here. More detailed mineralogical
investigations of the mine of Min Biaty are needed. The original lead ore should be
analyzed for silver content and the area carefully inspected for traces of cupellation,
295
such as litharge (the oxidized lead residue left by silver extraction), or for lead-bearing
slag fragments at the station or near the mining sites.104
109 Hopefully, future times will be easier to work and new investigations and analyses will
give us answers to some of these questions.
Rosanna Pirelli
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FOOTNOTES
1. Members of the mission are: Irene Bragantini, Rosanna Pirelli, Yasser Abdelraman, Marco
Barbarino, Giulia Ciucci, Giovanna Cresciani, Andrea D'Andrea, Mohamed Hamden, Ilaria
Incordino, Anna Lena, Giulio Lucarini, and Andrea Manzo. We are grateful for the help given by
Mr. Hany Abu El-Azm, former Director of the Foreign Missions Affairs in Cairo, to the Chief
Inspector for the Red Sea, Amr Abuelsafa Khalifa Ali and to the inspectors of the Safaga
inspectorate, Mr. Ali Ahmed Ali Salama and Mr. Mohamed Ali Ibrahim Ahmed. Moreover, we
gladly aknowledge the help given by Jean-Pierre Brun and Steven Sidebotham in the preparation
of our texts.
2. Notable exceptions are the surveys conducted under the direction of S. Sidebotham in this
area.
301
3. Preliminary reports of our activities, listing all the sites we have recorded, can be found in
Bragantini, Pirelli 2012; Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a; Bragantini, Pirelli 2013b; Bragantini, Pirelli
2015.
4. Schweinfurth 1885, pp. 6-10; Murray 1925, p. 142, mentions ‘more ruined houses in the Wadî
Gasûs’.
5. Sidebotham, Zitterkopf, 1997, p. 228: “…very deep wells with huge piles of sand and other
detritus excavated from the wells being piled up around them to form huge mounds. Placed
invariably in wâdi bottoms…”
6. See http://www.unior.it/ateneo/14562/1/archeomode.html.
7. The survey was conducted by I. Incordino and A. Lena, who also carried out a preliminary
photographic documentation. Fabric and typological analysis have not been carried out for lack
of time, and we hope to be able to work on the pottery as soon as we will resume fiedworks. For
some chronological indications, see Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, p. 68.
8. The structure, built “not even before the second half of the 3rd century CE”, was destroyed by
fire in the second half of the 6th century: Rieger et al. 2012, pp. 149-153.
9. It should also be recalled that in Roman period Pharaonic or Ptolemaic objects were displayed
in temples of Egyptian deities. On the reuse of Pharaonic and Ptolemaic architectural elements in
Alexandria, cf. Francocci 2003. According to Savvopoulos 2010, the reuse of Pharaonic elements
in Alexandria was particularly aimed at changing “Egypt into an ordinary Roman province, like
all the others”.
10. The cup was identified in the section under the level pertaining to the building of the
Eastern Building, thus pointing to activities performed here before the construction of the
building: the date of the cup (III-II c. BC?) should therefore be interpreted as terminus post quem
for the erection of the Eastern building.
11. I’m greatly indebted to Hélène Cuvigny for a preliminary reading and interpretation of this
important document.
12. Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, p. 70, Fig. 45; p. 74, Fig. 53. Limestone anchors similar to the ones
discovered at Marsa Gawasis have been recorded on the site (A. Manzo, pers. communication),
but this evidence has not been observed during our fieldwork.
13. Nicholson 2009, p. 2: “This (i.e., the fabrication of an object in faïence) would involve the
collection and crushing of quartz pebbles, probably using pounders and quern stones, or the
collection of quartz sand. The sand itself would normally have required some crushing or
grinding to render it into a flour-like powder…”
14. On the use of Egyptian blue, see now: Skovmøller et alii 2016).
15. The structure appears in the plan published by Sayed 1978, Fig. 3, reproduced after
Wilkinson.
16. Moreover, unpublished fragments of this type of jar occur in the collections from several
Middle Kingdom sites at the British Museum (code BM EA) and in the Petrie Museum (code UC):
UC 18670 from Harageh, UC 18560 from Diospolis Parva, BM EA 74395, BM EA 74421, BM EA 74435,
BM EA 74443, BM EA 74589, BM EA 74633, BM EA 74635, BM EA 74663, BM EA 74392, BM EA 74395,
and BM EA 74663 from el-Lahun.
17. See also unpublished sherd BM EA 74378 from el-Lahun.
18. See e.g. the rim sherds from WG 2 surf. coll. B4, WG 10 corr. 7, and WG 27 SU 1 A5.
19. See also unpublished sherds BM EA 50932, BM EA 74382, and BM EA 74399 from el-Lahun.
20. See e.g. the rime sherds from WG 3 surface collection, WG 16 SU 1 E-W 2-3, WG 27 SU 1, A4-
B4, WG 27 SU 1, A5, WG 28 SU 4.
21. See also unpublished sherds UC 18670 from Harageh, UC 18560 from Diospolis Parva, and BM
EA 74392 from el-Lahun.
22. See e.g. the rim sherds from WG 8 SU 7, WG 8 SU 7 S of F1, WG 10 corr. 4, 5, 6, 7, WG 16 SU 1
E-W 2, WG 16 SU 1 E-W 3, WG 16 tr. 3 SU 20, WG 18 SU 8, WG 19 SU 4 A3, WG 19 SU 8 A3, WG 19 SU
302
17, WG 19 SU 30 A1, WG 19 SU 24 C2, WG 19 SU 35 A2, WG 24 SU 17, WG 24 SU 32 C1, WG 24 SU 40

C1/C2-D1/D2, WG 28 SU 1, and WG 28 SU 4 East.
23. Tailings observed in 2012 appeared heavily disturbed by bulldozers in 2015.
24. Bragantini, Pirelli 2012, p. 111: among the possible function of the site listed in Sidebotham
et al. 2002, pp. 192-198; 218-225, gold mining (ibid. 222) could therefore be most confidently
considered.
25. My warmest thanks to Ms Meyer for kindly providing relevant texts on her researches in Bir
Umm Fawakhir.
26. Bragantini, Pirelli 2012, p. 105; Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, p. 90, Site 6: petroglyphs with
camels and armed fighting figures appear side by side, highlighting ‘…a nexus between people,
marking a symbolic, even spiritual connection with places to which individuals and groups
frequently returned’ (Bloxham 2015, p. 797).
27. For rotary grindstones dated to the ‘Arab period’ cf. also Tawab et al. 1990, p. 361 Fig. 16.
28. Keenan et al. 2000, p. 1171: ‘…current human and natural depredations make urgently
needed future fieldwork in this entire region a race against time’.
29. This paper –containing new observations and hypotheses on some of the texts of Wâdi
Gasus– also collects and summarizes the results of my previous study on these documents, which
I published in different contributions: Bragantini, Pirelli 2012; Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a,
Bragantini, Pirelli 2015, where an almost complete bibliography is also published.
30. One of them was intentionally hacked out with a rock hammer, sometime between 2012 and
2015, Bragantini, Pirelli 2015, p. 165(see below).
31. Not even, they do pose any problem of reading and interpretation. The two “stelae” were
studied and published for the first time by Samuel Birch (1880), then published again by Adolf
Erman (1882), and Alessandra Nibbi (1976), and referred to by Abdel Monem Sayed in his articles
on the site of Wâdi Gawasis (1977).
32. The first who puts this site in connection with a Hydreuma was Schweinfurth (1885).
33. I am extremely grateful to Patricia Usick (Dep. of Ancient Egypt and Sudan, The British
Museum) for sending me a PDF copy of these pages of the Catalogue of the very interesting collection
of Egyptian Antiquities, formed by James Burton, Jun. Esq. during his travels in Egypt and also for
providing me with precious information on this topic. My heartfelt thanks are also due to her
colleague Neil Cooke for her helpful contribution to the discussion.
34. See note 32.
35. British Library: Add Mss 25626, 66; Weill 1910, in Aufrère 2002; Tregenza 2004, pp. 182-183.
36. Manzo in Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, p. 54; Bragantini, Pirelli 2015, p.166.
37. Manzo 2011, p. 221.
38. Bragantini, Pirelli 2015, p. 166.
39. Mss ADD. 25626, 66. I am grateful to the British Library for providing me with the digital
copies of all Burton’s manuscripts quoted in this paper and included in the plates.
40. Sayed 1977.
41. Sayed 1978.
42. See supra note 40.
43. Meredith 1953, p. 102.
44. The Arabic term indicates a sign or marker.
45. Some interesting observations on Wâdi Gasus and Wâdi Gawasis were made in 1910 by
Raymond Weill, in his Journal du désert. In his opinion, the upper wâdi (Gasus) had no comfortable
landing on the seashore, while the lower wâdi (Gawasis) offered very favorable access to the
coast thanks to a break in the reef in front of it. Furthermore, according to Weill the two wâdis
are connected 3-4 km from the sea, where the mountain range is lower, allowing easy passage
from one to another: Weill, 1910, in Aufrère, 2002.
46. Pirelli 2007.
303
47. Nibbi, 1976, pls. IX-X. In Birch’s catalogue, 1880, pls. III-IV, only front drawings of the
“stelae” are included, so that it is not possible to understand their overall shape.
48. Where both the stelae (not only Wilkinson’s) could have been reused in the Roman period
notwithstanding the doubts mentioned above.
49. I keep here the denomination of “basalt” contained in the restoration report of the Durham
Museum, although in many cases, a petrographic analysis of such kind of rock has revealed to be
greywacke. Specific analyses are needed on the two artefacts to give the correct denomination of
the rock and help us to better define the terms of our question on their provenance. For some
hypotheses, see below.
50. I am extremely grateful to Rachel Grocke, who gave me all the modern information on the
“stelae”.
51. On this subject, however, see below.
52. Bragantini, Pirelli 2015, p. 167.
53. Sayed 1977, pp. 138-177; Bard, Fattovich 2007, pp. 30-32.
54. On the nature of the “Paneia”, see Bernand 1977, pp. 269-271.
55. I do not take into consideration a third possibility, i.e. that the “stelae” could have been
placed originally in a Middle Kingdom structure on the site where the Graeco-Roman station will
be built. Indeed although Middle Kingdom pottery is scattered all over the site, no structure
comparable to a shrine or chapel was found.
56. For the last reports of the mission, see CISA Newsletter 2009; 2010; 2011.
57. Pirelli 2010, p. 238.
58. And not from the area of the caves and niches inside the wâdi: Pirelli 2010, pp. 239-241.
59. Bard, Fattovich 2010, pp. 8, 12, 23. I am grateful to Rodolfo Fattovich, who gave me further
information about this stela.
60. On this subject see Schumacher 1988, pp. 69-72 and Aufrère 1998, p. 14.
61. See above, and note 55.
62. Schweinfurth 1885, p. 10; Tregenza 2004, pp. 179-181.
63. Klemm, Klemm 2013, p. 85
64. I am greatly indebted to Joachim Quack for authorizing me to publish this picture and to
Claus Jurman who provided me with a good copy of it. I have just received a further confirmation
and one more picture by R. Klemm and D. Klemm: when they made their last survey in 1990 they
also saw only the two cartouches of Amenirdis and Shepenupet (kind personal communication).
65. Burton, British Museum, Add. MS 25629, pp. 48-50, mentioned in Vikentiev 1952.
66. Schweinfurth 1885.
67. Leclant 1953.
68. Vikentiev 1956
69. Kitchen 1996, pp. 175-183; Jurman 2006, and Bibliography.
70. Pirelli, in Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, pp. 79-85.
71. Vikentiev 1956.
72. Dodson, Hilton 2004, p. 242. Jurman 2006, published a recent photograph of a part only of the
scene he had received from Joachim Quack.
73. MS 25629, 66.
74. Schweinfurth 1885.
75. The last sign is amended by Vikentiev as n[b nTrw], but it is probably a mistake of the
engraver.
76. According to Vikentiev 1952, and not Min of Coptos as stated by Schweinfurth.
77. I am conducting however a study on the names of Min in the Eastern Desert, and I am no
more so sure that he was right. I think that, in this case, we must recognise a different epithet of
the god, usually considered as a variant of the spelling of his name, attested from the New
Kingdom, but I am still working on this matter.
304
78. It is also interesting to note that the name of Pye is written in a rare spelling: the first sign is
the ideogram “ᒼnḫ”, followed by the phonograms “p” and double “yod”, instead of the regular
writing: “p” + “ᒼnḫ” + “double yod”.
79. As rightly pointed out by Vikentiev 1952.
80. Not in the copy on which Vikentiev could work.
81. Pirelli, in Bragantini, Pirelli 2013a, pp. 82-85
82. Ibidem.
83. Kitchen 1996, pp. 175-183.
84. Jurman 2006.
85. On the identity of the gods to be worshipped here, and their link with Min, see above, note
61.
86. Tregenza 2004, p. 181.
87. Tregenza 2004, p. 181. Vikentiev, instead, affirms that it was M. Simpson who found the stela
and informed Tregenza about it.
88. Tregenza 2004, p. 181.
89. Vikentiev 1956.
90. 49 cm tall, 19 wide and 19 thick.
91. Ibidem.
92. For the text and its dating, see Vikentiev 1956.
93. Vikentiev 1956, p. 181, note 1.
94. Ibidem.
95. Meredith 1953; Sayed 1977; Tregenza 2004; Fuchs, Hašek, Poichstal 2006. Ogden, citing
Garland, Bannister and Lucas, reminds us that, while the main galena mine region in Pharaonic
times was Gebel Rossas (in Arabic, the “Lead Mountain”), south of Quseir, there are many other
sites in the southern part of the East Desert where the mineral is abundant (Ogden 2009, pp.
168-169, with further literature). Interestingly, Vikentiev himself calls the wâdi where the mine
of “Min Biaty” lies “Wâdi Roussas,” evidently on the basis of a local toponomastic tradition
(Vikentiev, ibidem).
96. Castel, Soukiassan 1989.
97. Ogden 2009, p. 168, with further literature.
98. Wb V, 606, 4; Lesko 2002, p. 274
99. Ogden 2009, pp. 154-155; 168-169; 170-171, with further literature.
100. Ogden 2009, pp. 170-171. However, on this subject, see also Jurman 2015, pp. 51-68.
101. Stos-Gale 1996.
102. Actually even higher values have been detected in Egypt, in the “Black Vein” east of Umm
Samiuki, where allegedly quantities as high as 200 g per ton were recorded (Kovačik, cited in
Stos-Gale 1981).
103. Ibidem.
104. I am grateful to Yasser Abd el-Rahman for this technical advice.
AUTHORS
Irene Bragantini
ORCID: 0000-0001-6684-6621
Dipartimento Asia Africa Mediterraneo, Università degli studi di Napoli l’Orientale
Giulio Lucarini
McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, University of Cambridge, ISMEO,
305
Roma
Andrea Manzo
Rosanna Pirelli
306
The Exploitation of Animals in the

Roman Praesidia on the Routes to
Myos Hormos and to Berenike: on
Food, Transport and Craftsmanship
Martine Leguilloux
1 The conference on “The Eastern Desert of Egypt during the Graeco-Roman period”
offers the opportunity to present the main characteristics of the exploitation of
animals used as food, as means of transport and as raw materials. These aspects will be
addressed through a synthesis of the studies of the faunal assemblages discovered in
several Roman praesidia on the routes to Myos Hormos and to Berenike.
2 Archaeozoological data are intended to discover the role of animals in all possible
activities as soon as they interact with humans. We will observe more specifically how
animal resources were used during the occupation of the praesidia. The bones
discovered at these sites often reflect the difficulties that the Roman administration
faced in supplying the garrisons; they also show alternative methods that praesidia
occupants used to ensure a steady supply of food and equipment.
3 This study focuses on the period of maximum development of the two trade routes
between the 1st and the 3 rd century AD. During this period, many distortions are
noticeable, due to some chronological gaps and especially to data disparities from site
to site. Nevertheless, some trends appear that show recurrent specifics in the
exploitation of animal resources according to the type of sites and to changes in food
demand.
1. Archaeological contexts
4 Many sites located in the Eastern Desert have been explored over the past 30 years by
several archaeological missions; the “Mission archéologique française du désert
Oriental”1 explored the fortified way stations providing surveillance of and protection
307
to desert areas while other archaeological missions developed parallel excavations at

quarry and mining sites and at ports on the Red Sea coast (Fig. 1).
Fig. 1
Map of the Eastern Desert of Egypt with location of the sites mentioned
in this paper.
© M. Leguilloux
5 Despite extensive exploration of this region, there are few available archaeozoological
data, published or to be published. In our excavations, the majority of the studies were
carried out on rubbish dumped outside the forts, usually in front of the entrances.
However, not every excavated fort had rubbish dumps; some lacked them, mainly
because of meteorological events such as heavy rains and floods that have swept them
away. For example, the forts of Qusûr al-Banat, Bi’r al-Hammâmât, Al-Hamrâ’ and Bi'r
Sayyâla on the route to Myos Hormos had their dumps destroyed by the wâdi flows,
reducing the sample studied to two of the seven forts that were excavated or surveyed
along this itinerary.
6 In other cases, however, the location of the forts in wider wâdis, where floods were less
devastating, and where humans seldom visited during the last two millennia, resulted
in better site and rubbish dump preservation. We were then able to collect all the bones
included in homogeneous and well dated layers. In these primary dumps, discharge of
pottery and food waste was rapidly buried under layers of ash and straw. This
particular form of sedimentation ensured optimal conservation of organic matter, such
as textiles, leather objects, animal bones, food waste, etc.
7 In the region covered by the present paper, the Ptolemaic archaeozoological contexts
are still limited to two sites located in the gold mining district of Samût2 on the route
connecting Berenike to (Contra)Apollônopolis Magna (Edfu) (Fig. 1). The study of these
308
contexts provides a glimpse of the living conditions of the inhabitants much before the
stage of the Roman praesidia, but in the same environment. This information will serve
as a reference for identifying the characteristics of the exploitation of animals in
Roman times.
8 The gold mining facilities of North Samût3 were used for a short period of time in the
late 4th century BC, perhaps around 310-300 BC. The site consists essentially of two
large buildings and of facilities devoted to the exploitation of an auriferous quartz vein.
Despite the short period of occupation, two small dumps were created outdoors and the
abandonment levels of most of the rooms in Building 1 contained not only pottery, but
also bones. The site called Bi’r Samût, located about 5 km south of the aforementioned
one, was occupied longer than North Samût.4 The fort itself was built towards the
middle of the 3rd century (circa 260-250 BC) by order of Ptolemy II to serve as a water
supply place and as a way station on the route linking the port of Berenike to (Contra)
Apollônopolis Magna. The fort was abandoned at the end of the century (about 206 BC).
It was built on earlier facilities for the treatment of gold ore dated to the late 4th and to
the first half of the 3rd century BC. The plan of the fort is common among military posts
in the Eastern Desert: rows of rooms along the northern, eastern and southern
ramparts opening onto a central courtyard with a well and a cistern.
9 The studies of Roman faunal contexts are more numerous: ten sites can be grouped into
three categories according to their function: way stations, quarries or ports (Fig. 1).
1.1. Way stations
10 The first set of data comes from forts where a garrison was in charge of monitoring the
traffic and the well: the five sites providing archaeozoological data lay along the two
main routes between Coptos in the Nile valley and the ports of the Red Sea, Myos
Hormos and Berenike.
11 The first fort excavated by the French team on the route joining Myos Hormos to
Coptos was Maximianon, which was built during the Flavian dynasty and abandoned at
the beginning of the 3rd century AD (Fig. 1). The bones come from two distinct deposits.
The first context is related to a non-fortified military post founded during the
1st century AD (phase A of the dump). The waste there corresponds to the final phase of
its occupation (Max 1: phase A, around AD 50-80). This first settlement was replaced by
a fortified praesidium during the last quarter of the 1 st century (phases B and C of the
dump). This second context delivered much more abundant waste, the occupation of
the fort having generated a large dump located in front of its northern entrance. This
dump was used from the last quarter of the 1st century AD and during the first half of
the 2nd century (Max. 2: phase B1 / B2 / B3: AD 80/150) and the second half of the
2nd and the beginning of the 3rd century (Max 3: phases B4 / B5 / C: AD 150/210). During
every phase of occupation, discarded bones were abundant, providing evidence about
the nature of the meat supply and on the activities of the fort.5
12 The praesidium of Krokodilô, excavated in 1996-1997, was also founded during the
Flavian period and abandoned during the second quarter of the 2nd century. A rubbish
dump originally existed on the northern side of the site, but had been totally washed
away by a flood. Another dump on the southern side revealed layers dating back to the
reign of Trajan and the early years of Hadrian (AD 06/125). The bone assemblage of that
deposit is, therefore, completely homogeneous.6
309
13 The zoological study was completed with the excavation of two forts located on the
route to Berenike. The northern-most is the praesidium of Didymoi. Founded in
AD 76/77, it remained in operation until the third quarter of the 3rd century, thus
longer than the ones situated on the route to Myos Hormos.7 Several phases of
construction and development occurred during this period.8 A large rubbish dump
formed mainly during the late 1st to the mid-2nd century and then during the end of the
2nd and the 3 rd century. During 3rd century, the waste mostly accumulated inside the
barracks until their abandonment. The bone deposits found inside the fort are not large
enough for reliable studies; however, the long use of the outdoor rubbish dump and the
abundance of taxa are sufficient for characterizing the consumption.
14 Another site informs us about the last decades of monitoring the Coptos-Berenike
route: the praesidium of Dios (called Iovis in the Antonine Itinerary). Located farther
south, it was founded in 115/116 and abandoned in the third quarter of the 3rd century,
towards AD 270. This site seems to have enjoyed superior facilities: a bath with glass
windows, an oracular chapel with a podium supporting statues decorated with stone
marquetry, apartments for the commander adorned with mosaics. As elsewhere, during
the 2nd century, waste was thrown on the dumpsite in front of the entrance of the fort,
while those of the 3rd century were accumulated inside the fort.
15 The fort of Abû Sha'ar may be included in the category of way stations, being situated
at the intersection of the route linking Kainè to the Red Sea and the Via Nova Hadriana,
the road that ran along the seashore, joining the port of Berenike with Antinoopolis on
the Nile in Middle Egypt. This fort is much larger than the others. It is also later,
founded in 309-310 and located about 1 km from a well and ca 4.5-5 km from a
praesidium of the Early Empire near Bi'r Abu al-Sha'ar Qibly. 9 The military occupation
seems to have been short and the army withdrew during the second half of the
4th century. After a period of abandonment, a Christian community reoccupied the fort
toward the late 4th or early 5 th century. These contexts10 provide an overview of the
evolution of meat consumption when most of the way stations in the desert had already
been abandoned.
1.2. Quarries sites
16 Some praesidia built in order to control and secure the imperial quarries also provided
archaeozoological data. Though less numerous, these sites revealed dumps containing
diversified rubbish because they were occupied by both civilian and military
populations, who produced abundant waste of all sorts.
17 The largest of these deposits, that of the Mons Claudianus quarry, have been widely
explored and the studies focused on material discovered in inner and outer dumps,
which are dated between the middle of the 1st century and the beginning of the
3rd century.11
18 The contexts from the Porphyrites quarries are similar although the taxa are less
abundant. They provide useful comparisons for other assemblages dated from the
middle of the 2nd century to the middle of the 3rd century AD.12
19 More modestly, the praesidium of the Domitianè/Kaine Latomia imperial quarry (today
Umm Balad) provides a homogeneous context. The fort controlled granodiorite
quarries opened on the south-western slopes of Porphyrites. Due to the uneven quality
310
of the local granodiorite, this quarry was only exploited during two short periods,
under the reigns of Domitian and Trajan, when a first quarry was opened, and under
Antoninus Pius, towards AD 150, when a second quarry was planned. During these two
periods, the occupants of the fort, soldiers and quarrymen, deposited their rubbish in a
dump located in front of the entrance of the praesidium.
1.3. Ports
20 The specificity of the provisioning of the Roman forts is highlighted by comparison

with the faunal assemblages found on coastal sites, in particular the ports of Myos
Hormos and Berenike.
21 Myos Hormos offers an interesting indicator of the dietary practices of a port town
during the 1st and 2 nd centuries.13 The bone assemblages found in the rubbish dumps
allow a comparison between the lifestyles of inhabitants regularly supplied notably by
sea food and those of the occupants of the desert forts mainly recipients of the official
deliveries.
22 The port of Berenike provides data especially on late antiquity, although the city
experienced development and decline phases from the Ptolemaic period (3rd century
BC) after the creation of the route from (Contra) Apollônopolis Magna and a network of
stathmoi, until the Roman occupation (from the 1st century to the third quarter of the
3rd century AD) when the route to Coptos was equipped with a network of wells and
praesidia.14 Indeed, the abundant bone contexts dated between the second half of the 4th
and the beginning of the 6th century show that changes occurred after the
abandonment of the praesidia network in the Eastern Desert.
2. Provisioning the Eastern Desert

2.1. Meat in the diet
23 Before describing the nature of the supply of meat to the Eastern Desert praesidia, we
must recall that the staple diet of ancient civilian or military populations consisted of
cereals (wheat, barley, oats or sorghum) supplemented with legumes (lentils, vetches,
peas, cabbage).15 Thanks to information provided by ancient sources, an average
soldier’s consumption can be estimated at one artabe (38.78 litres) per month thus 1 kg
to 1.3 kg of wheat per day, during the 2nd century.16 Oil and wine distributed by the
curator of each praesidium complemented this monthly ration. From the second half of
the 2nd century AD, these two products were also provided by military authorities.17 The
soldiers occasionally supplemented their rations with fresh meat, which explains some
aspects of the meat supply in the desert to which we will return.
24 Meat waste is rare in the praesidia when we take into account the duration of
occupation of the sites, from one to two centuries and the optimal taphonomic
conditions, the homogeneity of the deposits and the quick burial of the remains.
25 A first point should be emphasized: we know, by the type of bones discovered, that the
supply of meat was well organized despite the difficulties of transport. However, did
every site have easy access to an efficient supply? To estimate the place of meat in the
diet of each site necessitates a fixed basis of comparison. I selected the minimum
311
number of discarded table wares and kitchen wares, another abundant type of waste;
thus the number of determined bone fragments (NRD) will be calibrated on a 100 vases
basis (NMI, excluding amphorae). Using this calibration, we observe that the frequency
rate of bone fragments varies little from one site to another (Fig. 2): a general trend
gives a frequency of 80 to 100 bone fragments per 100 vases, suggesting that meat was
consumed in the same proportions at most of the Eastern Desert sites.
Fig. 2
Number of identified faunal remains (NIR) per 100 vases (MNI: minimum
number of individuals, table and cooking wares, excluding amphora).
© M. Leguilloux
26 Sites with relatively abundant bones are rare (Maximianon and Mons Claudianus); this
rate does not seem to be related to the duration of occupation. The Krokodilô dump,
despite its short duration of use, yielded remarkable quantities of bones.
Transportation difficulties and the distance from the valley do not seem to have
directly influenced supply. In the rubbish dumps of Dios, occupied during one and a
half centuries (from AD 115 to AD 270), the rate of faunal remains is identical to that
observed in the Krokodilô dump. Only the later contexts (inner dumps of the fort of
Dios), during the 3rd century, show a lower rate (Fig. 2).
27 The faunal assemblage from Domitianè/Kainè Latomia is the only one that presents an
index of meat supply much lower than the other places. This deposit brings together
waste from a mixed population, a part of which had low economic status –e.g. unskilled
workers of the familia and possibly Jewish prisoners of war; this index seems to reflect a
more limited access to meat.
28 The populations living in these sites were heterogeneous. The way station (praesidia)
were guarded by ten to fifteen soldiers and some cavalrymen responsible for
transporting written communications, but they also housed some civilians whose
numbers varied depending on the site, location and period. The proportion of the
civilian population was much higher on quarry sites because of the enormous need for
labour required to extract and transport the blocks. The presence of civilians was,
however, significantly reduced in the way stations which were mostly frequented by
providers and prostitutes.18
312
29 Therefore, supply sources were multiple, private and official, exploiting local natural
resources and taking advantage of passing caravans or even couriers. The official
supplies delivered food rations every month for the soldiers (mainly grain and oil), but
privately acquired supplies complemented the meals with wine and meat.19
30 In general, the ostraka do not specify the nature or origin of the meat, in particular the
species selected by officials. The meat was obviously cured because it had to remain
edible for several weeks in hot weather. In fact, faunal studies show that meat supply
could take several forms (salted meat, but also fresh meat) and that it could have
various origins (purchases, local breeding, hunting, slaughtering of old animals).
2.2 Species and pieces consumed

2.2.1. Way stations
31 The first set of data comes from forts that controlled the caravan routes and water
points in the desert. The faunal assemblages allow an accurate reconstruction of the
meat supply and illustrate the difficulties encountered to assure regular supplies,
obliging the soldiers to diversify their food.
The consumed species
32 The categories of animals at the praesidia along the routes include pastoral species,
pack (camels, donkeys) or commensal animals (domestic dogs, rodents). Faunal
assemblages are characterized by a lack of variety: the number of species is limited to 8
to 12. They are mainly domestic animals (90% to 98% of the identified bones: Table 1),
most of which were eaten except for dogs. The dog bones never preserve cut marks and
their remains enjoyed special treatment: many were buried in “tombs” and some of
them were wrapped in fabrics.20
33 The most frequent species in terms of number of bones is swine. Pork bones are
abundant in all the rubbish dumps and represent more than half of the faunal
assemblages in the praesidia between the end of the 1st century and the beginning of the
3rd century AD. This massive proportion characterizes all the road stations on the
Coptos/Myos Hormos (Maximianon and Krokodilô) and Coptos /Berenike (Dios and
Didymoi) routes (Fig. 3).
Fig. 3
313
Faunal remains from Eastern Desert sites: praesidia of the route to Myos
Hormos and to Berenike (% of the number of determined bones per
species).
© M. Leguilloux
34 In 4th century Abu Sha'ar, mammalian bones represent only a small proportion of the
contexts. However, swine is the predominant mammalian species (15% of the context).
This site being located on the coastline, occupants intensively exploited the marine
environment; fishing activities massively supplied the inhabitants, introducing,
consequently, an imbalance in the composition of the supply in comparison with other
praesidia.21
35 Although their bones are predominant among mammals, pigs were not the only source
of meat: bones of pack animals (dromedaries and donkeys) are relatively numerous and
these bigger animals provided larger quantities of fresh meat when they were
slaughtered. Dromedary meat was the second most commonly eaten if we take into
account the frequency of rejection of their bones, ahead of the meat of donkeys and of
sheep and goats, the bones of which are rare during the Early Roman period (Fig. 3).
36 Adult sheep, frequently mentioned in tax returns dealing with herds, are rarely
mentioned in the ostraka that reference the consumption and supply of meat in the
praesidia.22 This silence can be explained by the poor quality of the meat provided by
adult sheep. It was reserved for less demanding consumers than the soldiers and these
people hardly appear in written sources.
37 Poultry bones are the most fragile remains; due to taphonomic reasons they are
underrepresented compared to bones of mammals: from 3% to 5% of the remains
identified. The later levels of the Didymoi dump register rates even lower: 1.3%. In any
case, other tenuous traces of poultry are systematically recorded in the dumps:
numerous egg shells and feathers ensure the existence of chickens, hens and cocks the
local breeding of which provided meat and eggs for daily consumption. Hens and cocks
were small, very graceful, usually white, according to the white feathers discovered in
several dumps (Maximianon, Krokodilô, Didymoi). Apart from these remains, some
bones attest the consumption of ducks and geese (Krokodilô and Dios).23 Despite the
scarcity of their remains, domestic poultry was probably a significant food resource.
During the Roman period, they were popular for religious reasons or private festivals.24
Geese, pigeons, ducks, but also quails and other small birds are also preserved following
a long Pharaonic tradition, which continued during the Ptolemaic era: “They used to
eat any kind of fish raw, either salted or dried in the sun. Quails also, and ducks and
small birds, they eat uncooked, merely first salting them.” (Herodotus II, 77). During
the Roman Empire, dealers specialized in selling these products.25
Meat selection
38 The particular supply conditions of these sites directly influenced the nature of the
available meat: the study of pork bones from these dumps shows a clear selection of
animals aged from one to two years and of pieces of meat attached to skeletal
segments. There is an over-representation of some anatomical elements such as skulls,
ribs and vertebrae which represent 60 to 80% of the bones and correspond to pieces of
meat that were frequently consumed (Fig. 4).
314
Fig. 4
Selection of pieces of pork meat (Sus domesticus) in the main praesidia of

the routes to Myos Hormos and to Berenike.
© M. Leguilloux
39 The perfect preservation of the organic material and the favourable stratigraphic
conditions suggest that these disproportionate figures result from a selection of meat
pieces, cut and packaged before being delivered to the settlements. We also observe a
very high fragmentation of the bones: not a single suet bone is complete and the
number of butcher marks is very high (82 slaughtering or butcher marks for
100 bones). Even pork snouts were consumed after being cut into small pieces. These
two observations about animal selection and bone fragmentation suggest the frequent
consumption of salted meat with bones.26 Often Roman cured meat included bones and
was cooked following recipes of boiled or stewed meat. These preparations formed a
part of the meat supply of the isolated sites, which could hardly rely on regular
supplies. Although they were not traded on a large scale such as salted fish, cured meat
from the Nile valley was as commonly consumed as fresh meat, as evidenced both by
consumption waste and by occurrences in the papyrological corpus. At Didymoi, an
ostracon announces that a mina (350 g) of salted pork has been sent (O.Did 452; end
2nd-3rd century) and a titulus pictus indicates that a certain amphora contained 27
pieces of salted meat (kopadia: O.Did 15; c. AD 76/77).27
40 Much of the cured meat came from food rations granted by the army. In the
papyrological corpus, the terms mentioning meat are usually generic and rarely specify
the names of the meat pieces packaged for transport and storage. All parts of an animal
could be salted and the faunal assemblages show that the best pieces, such as hams or
shoulders, were not commonly imported to desert sites. The discarded bones
comprised mainly heads, specifically snouts, and ribs. Orders recorded on papyri or
ostraka mention meat pieces such as pork feet cured in pots. Another order records the
sending of a bull's head, which is probably a butcher’s preparation using muzzle cuts,
pressed for transport and storage.28
315
41 Only pork seems to have been salted. The faunal distribution indicates that the flesh of
large (dromedaries and donkeys) and small animals (sheep and goats) slaughtered on
the site was eaten fresh.
42 The daily average meat consumption is unknown. During the Early Empire, official food
distributions to soldiers did not involve meat: the rations consisted mainly of grain for
bread (about 1.3 kg per day). The meat would have been included in the rations only
during the Later Roman Empire;29 for this period, some texts detail the quantities of
meat distributed to the soldiers,30 which was one Egyptian pound per day (roughly
equivalent to a Roman pound31 or 327 g); this weight remained the same until the
6th century.32 It is possible that these daily quantities were already the norm during the
Early Empire although this supply was mostly private.33 Several letters discovered in
the dumps of Krokodilô, Maximianon and Mons Claudianus34 pointed out that there
were orders for pork, sometimes also orders for live pigs to be fattened on site.
43 Unlike pig bones, sheep and goat bones are often complete; their distribution shows no
obvious disproportion between the different anatomical segments. These
characteristics suggest that the meat was eaten fresh after slaughtering the animals on
site. Similar observations were made at most of the excavated sites (Krokodilô,
Maximianon, Didymoi, Mons Claudianus, Porphyrites). It seems that local livestock on a
small scale was common: among these animals, most adults were slaughtered after
being used for the production of wool or milk for several years.
2.2.2. The quarries
44 Studies of faunal assemblages from quarry dumps are fewer. On the three excavated
sites (Mons Claudianus, Porphyrites and Domitianè / Kainé Latomia), proportions of
bones of different species are structurally different from those of the road stations. The
proportion of pack animal bones, particularly donkeys, is higher whereas pork bones
are relatively less abundant (Fig. 5).
Fig. 5
Faunal remains from the quarry sites.

© M. Leguilloux
316
45 The predominance of pack animals on these sites is due to the essential role they
played in quarrying operations, handling loads in a very different context from the
lowland sites. Only the faunal assemblage from the Porphyrites exhibits equal
proportions of pack animals and of pork bones.
46 If pack animal bones are more common in the quarries, their prevailing attribution to
donkeys instead of camels reveals another characteristic of these sites compared to the
way stations where camels were the most frequently used animals for transport (Fig. 6).
Fig. 6
Variation of the number of determined bones of the main species in the

various categories of rubbish dumps (NR: number of bones).
© M. Leguilloux
47 Conversely, the high rate of equine bones in the quarry sites indicates that these
animals were the most common. Their bones are identified almost exclusively as
donkeys’. Horse bones are virtually absent, as they are at way stations. At Didymoi,
where we find the largest quantity of identified bones, horse bones account for only 3%
of the total of the identified equine bones. In other sites on the routes to Myos Hormos
and Berenike, horse bones represent only 1 or 2% of the identified equine bones. All
identified horses were adults aged more than 10 years with the exception of an 8 year
old from the site of Maximianon. Note that no faunal remains from hybrid species were
identified at any desert sites although mules were known from the Ptolemaic period35
and were later greatly appreciated by the Roman army.
48 The significant presence of equine bones in these dumps is obviously linked to the
activities of supplying the workers and for the extraction and transport of granite
blocks over uneven and rocky terrain, impassable for camels. Camels, indeed, are only
suitable for flat and sandy terrain, but they could replace the donkeys once the blocks
descended from the mountain quarries to the wâdi bottoms.
49 Quarry sites are, therefore, characterized by the presence of large equine herds. These
animals were almost always consumed when too old or injured, as evidenced by the
numerous cut marks on their bones, precisely noted at Mons Claudianus.36 On this site
that housed a mixed population of civilians and soldiers, donkey and pork meat
represented the bulk of meat consumption.37 Generally speaking, consumption of
donkey meat is common on all the examined desert sites; equine bones discovered in
way stations show cut marks and kitchen traces. At Berenike and Myos Hormos, there
are no data proving that equine meat was eaten. Donkey and camel meat was not
prized,38 but in the Eastern Desert, slaughtering donkeys or camels provided large
quantities of meat to eat quickly and the inhabitants could not disdain these proteins.
317
50 Unlike pigs consumed in most cases between one and two years, donkeys and camels
were adults at the time of slaughtering. These animals were injured, sick or too old for
their workload. Outside the Eastern Desert, the use of equines as a food and as raw
materials was limited. For example, while the hides of many species were tanned to
make leather, horses were not while written sources even mention dogs or camels.39
Equine meat consumption seems to be characteristic of the desert sites that suffered
irregular supply. The cured meat supplied by purchases and meat from animals raised
and slaughtered on site were insufficient to meet demand. Even if, in terms of number
of bones, those of the pack animals are less numerous than those of pigs, the quantities
of meat their carcasses provided were greater. Sporadic supply and frequent shortages,
compelled workers and soldiers to exploit any food resources, including equines, which
were not regularly eaten.
51 Poultry bones were also discovered at quarry sites: the frequency of domestic birds
remains similar to that observed in way stations: Mons Claudianus: 5.9% Porphyrites:
4.5%. At Kaine Latomia, the proportion is lower: 0.6% (phase 1: late 1st early 2nd century)
and 0.9% (phase 2: mid 2nd century); these lower rates can be explained by the short
duration of occupation of this praesidium40 and by the few bones collected from the
dump, perhaps due to taphonomic conditions worse than those at Mons Claudianus.
2.2.3. The ports
52 The specificity of the Eastern Desert forts is clear when comparing the faunal
assemblages to those of urban contexts at Myos Hormos and Berenike.
53 During the 1st and 2 nd centuries AD, the populations living in these ports consumed a
lower proportion of pork (Fig. 7). At Berenike, we observe an interesting evolution of
the proportion of pork bones: absent from the Ptolemaic levels, they become frequent
in the contexts of the Early Roman Empire (35% of the faunal assemblages during the
1st century AD),41 and then, after the 3rd century they tend to decrease and become rare
again in 5th-6th century layers (0.2% of the identified bones).42
Fig. 7
Faunal remains from some urban coastal sites (% of idenfied bones).

© M. Leguilloux
318
54 The proportion of sheep and goat bones found in the two ports is similar to percentages
observed at the desert forts during the Early Roman period. However, a clear
distinction can be observed between these two categories of sites through the
distribution of other species, especially poultry and, to a lesser extent, cattle and game.
The faunal assemblages indicate that more regular consumption of these species
occurred at the expense of pork (Fig. 7).
55 This diversity disappears in contexts of the 4th to 6 th centuries at Berenike. The
composition of rubbish dumps contemporaneous with those of Abu Sha'ar is marked by
a high proportion of sea food, which represents almost one third (31.6%) of the overall
faunal material and by the quasi-exclusive consumption of small ruminants the bones
of which represent 96% of the mammal bones (Fig. 7). Sheep and goats became the main
source of meat in terms of frequency and during late Roman times their bones43 have a
proportion similar to that found in the Ptolemaic period.44
56 At Myos Hormos, a first study reveals similar trends although it takes into account only
a small sample (300 identifiable fragments) from 1st/2nd centuries contexts. As
expected, sea food represents the bulk of the material (71% of the taxa), but the
proportion of pork bones is higher than that of sheep and goat (Fig. 7).45
57 In brief, the Early Roman faunal assemblages of these two ports present a large variety
of animal species. The proportion of pork bones and of sheep and goats are roughly
equivalent: respectively 35% and 18% at Berenike and 24.5% and 17.3% at Myos Hormos.
The supply of meat was supplemented by cattle and especially by poultry, at least at
Berenike (Fig. 7). At Myos Hormos, we observe a high proportion of pet bones, from
dogs and cats, but the sample is too small to be reliable and this could partly explain
this fairly high percentage.
3. Managing shortages: self supply (hunting and

fishing) and local livestock
58 Provisioning the praesidia depended on caravans. However, some irregularities of
official supply together with permanent or occasional shortages often forced occupants
to diversify their food sources, exploiting their environment by fishing or hunting and
by raising sheep, goats, domestic fowl (chicken) and pigs.
3.1. Marine fauna
59 Marine faunal remains (fish and shellfish) are always present in the rubbish dumps
regardless of the remoteness of a site from the coastline. This distance, however, plays
an essential role in seafood delivery: at Maximianon, located 60 km from the sea, the
proportion of marine remains reach 21.4% but at Krokodilô, 111 km from the coast,
seafood represents only 6.5% of the remains. Along the route to Berenike, at Didymoi
and Dios, even more isolated, marine animals do not exceed 5% of all faunal remains
(Fig. 8).
Fig. 8
319
Marine faunal remains compared to birds and mammals remains (NR:

number of idenfied remains).
© M. Leguilloux
60 On the contrary, coastal sites where securing food from the sea was easier, seafood
occupied a central place in the diet. At Abu Sha'ar,46 fish bones and shellfish constitute
the overwhelming majority of the remains (90%); they are associated with numerous
fishing tools: hooks, nets and net weights.47
61 At Domitianè/Kaine Latomia, seafood represents only a small part of the faunal
remains (8%), but this site was occupied for only short periods. At Mons Claudianus and
Mons Porphyrites, seafood waste appears in higher proportions (50% and 32%). These
statistics can be explained by larger civilian and military populations, but also by a
greater purchasing power among some categories of manpower, especially skilled
workers and administrative officials. Seafood was well appreciated and frequently
requested: several private letters discovered at Mons Claudianus deal with fresh fish
orders; the customers were willing to pay the price required for purchase and delivery
(O. Claud. II 241 and 242). The faunal assemblages at Mons Claudianus are characterized
by the abundance of bones and a large variety of species. The structure of faunal
assemblages shows that some residents enjoyed substantial buying power and could
purchase luxury goods.48 Parrot fish was one of the most popular and, consequently, its
remains are common in the rubbish dumps.
62 Fish was consumed by the privileged classes, from the time of Zeno at least49 and in
several forms: fresh, salted or dried. Herodotus reports dried (2, 92-93) or salted fish (2,
77) consumption by the Egyptians. Fresh fish was generally prized according to
Athenaeus (8, 355-357). During the 2nd and 3 rd centuries AD, salted fish was often
prepared in specialized workshops (P. Oxy. XLIX 3495 and P. Tebt. III.1, 701: c. AD 235),
but there were also domestic productions (P. Oxy. VI 928: 2nd century AD). Under these
two forms, fish was affordable for the soldiers stationed in remote desert forts and was
available even in way stations located far from the coast. It is difficult to determine
whether the fish remains found there are from fresh, dried or salted fish, but it seems
sensible to think that the last two categories were the most common because of
delivery times.
63 The other food source provided by fishing, shellfish, sometimes contributed
significantly to human consumption: they are regularly present at all sites and in all
levels of occupation of the Eastern Desert, but unlike fish,50 the ostraka do not mention
them.
320
3.2. Game
64 Hunting was another potential source of meat. However, the proportion of bones
collected in the dumps indicates that hunting was rarely practiced. We observe some
bones from wild animals living in the Eastern Desert: gazelles, ibex, mountain sheep
and hyenas. These remains rarely exceed 1% of the total. This form of self-supply is
particularly rare at Maximianon and Krokodilô, likely because they were regularly
supplied thanks to their location on the busy route joining Coptos with Myos Hormos.
65 Hunting wild animals was not seen as a subsistence activity. Obtaining fresh meat by
hunting was difficult in desert areas. However, there are three sites where the remains
of wild animals, mainly gazelles, reach 2% of the faunal assemblages: Didymoi during its
first phase of occupation (circa AD 76-92), Mons Claudianus during the 3rd century and
Myos Hormos during the 1st and 2nd centuries when the movement of people and goods
could have encouraged the consumption of game.
3.3. Attempts at local farming: pig sties
66 To overcome the supply problems and to compensate for any dearth in the official
supply, the soldiers occasionally raised poultry, as we have seen, but also pigs and
goats.
67 Not only did the garrisons consume cured pork, but also occasionally live animals were
slaughtered. Climatic conditions and supply problems are certainly not favourable
factors for raising pigs in the desert; nevertheless, certain sites have facilities for
housing and fattening young pigs that were slaughtered probably for festivals.
68 This practice is known from ostraka mentioning barley food for pigs and by shelters
built on the rubbish dumps (pigsties). The pigsties used to protect the animals are
small-sized structures, isolated and sometimes equipped with troughs; they have been
documented at Krokodilô, Didymoi, Dios and Xeron Pelagos. They are aligned at
Krokodilô (Fig. 9) and Dios (Fig. 10) or opening onto a yard as Didymoi (Fig. 11); but
some isolated pigsties exist at Dios and at Didymoi. These facilities experienced short
periods of use: they were abandoned fairly quickly, then returned to service or they
were rebuilt several times. Indeed raising pigs was sporadic because it required a
regular supply of grain. The number of animals fattened in this way was limited: at
Krokodilô and Dios, three sties were successively built, at Didymoi and Xeron, two to
three in different periods. These sties, whose surfaces vary from 1 to 2 m2, have walls of
at most one meter high; they could accommodate a single animal; a maximum of two or
three pigs could be fed simultaneously. It was not breeder farming, but rather fattening
animals born elsewhere; we did not find very young animals. This intermittent practice
is consistent with the climatic conditions and with supply difficulties that would have
prevented permanent pig raising.
Fig. 9
321
Pigsties in the external dump of Krokodilô.

© J.‑P. Brun, MAFDO 1996
Fig. 10
Pigsties in the external dump of Dios.

© J.-P. Brun, MAFDO 2008
Fig. 11
322
Pigsties in the external dump of Didymoi.

© J.-P. Brun, MAFDO 2000
3.4. Local crafts and exploitation of animal raw materials
69 The supply issue related not only to food, but also equipment and other supplies for
men and animals, which had to be maintained to ensure their proper function in these
military posts or in the quarries. The resources of the desert were limited and so were
imported supplies; consequently, people had to adapt and to reuse raw or used
materials found in their environment. Camels and donkeys were not only food
resources, they also provided raw material to small workshops using the hides and the
bones of slaughtered animals. Recycling products offered the opportunity, when
necessary, to manufacture or repair quotidian objects such as clothes, shoes and
harnesses. This work was done by individuals, improvised bone craftsmen, cobblers or
tanners. The quality of the items was, however, very poor, especially for leather
objects.
70 The long and complex tanning processes required water, skilled techniques, specific
tools and special equipment51 that were impossible to implement in the environment
and with the limited resources of the Eastern Desert. Yet, transportation and military
life required many leather objects ranging from shoes to wineskins and coupling
components; these had to be maintained and repaired on site by those who knew how
to work the skins. Tanning was then replaced by other processes, especially because
animals commonly exploited for their hides, such as cattle, were unavailable. Hides and
tendons from animals slaughtered for food, camels in particular, were used to make
sandals or harness parts found at Didymoi,52 Dios and Xeron.53 These dried and coarsely
prepared raw hides were primarily used for mending or making sandal-type shoes
(Fig. 12) or belts used to attach cargoes on pack animals; these were basic and shoddy
items used for many purposes.
Fig. 12
323
A. Raw skin used for making a sandal at Xeron (photo M. Leguilloux,

MAFDO 2009). B. Graphic reconstitution of this sandal (santal-type
Didymoi 1b: Leguilloux 2006, pl. 17).
© M. Leguilloux
71 If hide working was systematic, bone carving was less common; camel bones were used
to make objects for daily use (pins and spoons). This craft requires some basic
techniques involving the selection of the bone material, its preparation by cutting and
sawing and finally polishing. For these reasons, waste from cutting and sawing is rare
and attested only in 2nd century levels at some sites. At Didymoi, waste concentrated in
layers of the second quarter of the 2nd century (Phase 10, c. AD 125-140) when a
craftsman was present; at Dios, several artefacts illustrating the entire operating chain
were found in levels of the first half of 2nd century.54
4. Food as a cultural marker

72 Archaeozoological studies highlight the living conditions in the Eastern Desert, but
they also reveal food choices depending on the period and the origin of soldiers and
workers. These choices are reflected by the selection of the species that were
consumed. The bones of the main species, except cattle, are always present in the
dumps; eventual fluctuation of their respective proportions is an indication of change.
73 These proportions are particularly stable during the first two centuries AD indicating
that people living in the Early Roman praesidia experienced more or less the same diet
(Fig. 3). But signs of change appeared during the 3rd century: pig taxa, abundant in 1st
and 2nd century levels, became relatively less common with an increase in sheep and
goat taxa. This change in the meat diet is noticeable in the late levels of Didymoi (Fig. 3,
DD4). This trend is confirmed in the later levels of the praesidium of Dios towards the
middle of the 3rd century. Dietary changes are reflected by the selection of species
(percentages of identified bones) and the nature of the meat consumed (selection of
meat pieces).
324
74 From the reign of Caracalla, the forts on the route to Berenike were occupied by
detachments of Palmyrene archers whose installation was followed by significant
changes in the architecture of barracks and in waste management. Thereafter, external
dumps at the praesidia of Didymoi, Dios and Xeron were no longer regularly used and
waste was left inside the barracks, which had previously been kept clean. These later
soldiers did not regularly clean the living areas and the accumulation of waste on the
ground caused a rapid stratification.
75 Meanwhile, the composition of the meat diet changed: there was a reversal of the
curves of pork versus sheep and goat bones, indicating that the latter species became
the main meat sources in the last period of occupation (Fig. 13A). The origin of the meat
resources also changed: the occupants of the forts more frequently used local supply,
which is proven by the slaughtering of the animals on site. These came from grazing in
the desert and they probably belonged to nomadic tribes whose presence may be
reflected by sherds of indigenous made ceramics (Eastern Desert Ware) in the layers of
this period.
76 These changes in supply conditions in the 3rd century are accompanied by a change in
the nature of the species of meat that was consumed; pigs were slaughtered providing
fresh meat; salted meat rations were no longer the basis of prepared meals as indicated
by the uniform distribution of consumable pieces (Fig. 13B).
Fig. 13
Faunal remains from the external rubbish dump and the internal ones in
the praesidum of Dios (% of identified bones).
© M. Leguilloux
77 The specific conditions of life in the isolated way stations, but also the ethnicities of
soldiers determined food choices from the first settlements to the final phases of
occupation of the sites. We can link these dietary changes and the arrival of
detachments of Palmyrene archers55 because the ostraka mention Palmyrenes in the
Eastern Desert in that same period.56 The arrival of an eastern population changed the
supply based on new dietary needs and perhaps due to increasing difficulties of supply.
325
78 It is interesting to note that changes also affected the ports and that these were
accentuated during the following centuries: sheep and goats dominate in the dumps of
4th and 5 th century Berenike indicating that these two species provided most of the
supply of meat (Fig. 7). At Abu Sha'ar during the 4th century, pork consumption is also
reduced, their bones representing only 15% of the assemblage. The main source of food
supply was seafood, which represented 80% of the faunal remains collected.57
Food Evolution from the Ptolemaic period to the Late Roman period
79 The history of diet of the inhabitants of the Eastern Desert sites is, thus, marked by a
series of changes. The changes in the meat supply, which began during the 3rd century
AD, are probably due to cultural reasons; they find some parallels in more ancient
periods. Indeed, the transition from the Ptolemaic to the Roman period was also a time
of change in the selection of species; there had already been an inversion of the curves
of the meat diet. In the contexts of Samût from the end of the 4th century (North Samût)
to the end of 3rd century BC (Bi'r Samût) previously mentioned, camel meat was the
most commonly eaten: their bones are more abundant than those of small ungulates,
pigs, sheep and goats (Fig. 14). In the category of small ungulates, sheep and goats seem
to have primacy over pigs at the end of the 4th century. During the 3rd century, the
proportion of bones from these species is roughly balanced.
Fig. 14
Variation of faunal remains in Ptolemaic and Roman sites of the Eastern

Desert of Egypt.
© M. Leguilloux
80 During the Roman times, we observe a difference in Berenike where the study of faunal
assemblages found in the Hellenistic levels shows the essential role played by sheep
and goats in the diet: their bones represent 89% of the assemblages while pork bones
are totally absent.58 At Bi'r Samût, it is striking that, although scarce, pork bones are
present despite the delphakophobia of Egyptian people recorded by Herodotus (2.47-48)
and Plutarch (De Iside, 8354): Egyptians regarded pig as a Sethian and evil animal. But
pigs and piglets were commonly eaten by the Greeks as suggested by the recurring
mentions of this meat in Zeno’s archives.59 For the Greek communities settled in Egypt,
pigs had a special place in their sacrifices.60
81 2nd and 1 st centuries BC faunal assemblages have not yet been documented in the
Eastern Desert. We must wait until the first Roman forts, during the 1st century AD, to
observe the relative role of each species in the diet. At that time, there is an increase in
pork bones that corresponds to the preponderance of pork in the diet of the soldiers
occupying the first praesidia.61 The archaeozoology also indicates the preponderance of
326
pork even where alternatives were possible. At Karanis, for example, the dumps
contain a large proportion of pork bones, which outnumbered goat and sheep bones
and especially cattle bones despite the breeding facilities available in the Fayoum.62
82 This overview of the archaeozoological data, therefore, shows the specificity of the
various categories of sites according to their function and location (way stations,
quarry sites or ports), but also according to the period of occupation because each
category and period experienced different methods of supply. Some changes in the
composition of the faunal assemblages suggest that institutional and cultural aspects
influenced meat consumption. The consumption of pork at Roman military sites of the
Early Empire and its regression during the 3rd century are probably due to an evolution
of the recruitment of the soldiers, which are also evident from changes in the
architecture of the forts and in the clothing.63
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FOOTNOTES
1. The Mission française du désert Oriental was led from 1993 to 2013 by H. Cuvigny (CNRS-IRHT)
and since 2013 by B. Redon (HiSoMA, UMR 5189 CNRS).
2. Mission archéologique française du désert Oriental/IFAO. B. Redon (Directrice, HiSoMA, UMR
5189 du CNRS), Th. Faucher (Directeur adjoint, CNRS-IRAMAT Orléans).
3. Redon, Faucher 2016, pp. 27‑29.
4. Brun et alii 2013; Redon, Faucher 2016, pp. 25‑27.
5. Leguilloux 2001.
6. Leguilloux 2001.
7. Brun 2017.
8. Leguilloux 2011.
9. Sidebotham 1994.
10. Wendrich, Van Neer 1994; Van Neer, Sidebotham 2002.
11. Hamilton‑Dyer 2001.
14. Van Neer, Lentacker 1996; Van Neer, Ervynck 1998; Van Neer, Ervynck 1999.
15. We refer to the specialized bibliography concerning cereal consumption by the soldiers
(Junkelmann 1997 Groenman Van Waateringe 1997) and the civilians (Andre 1981) as well as to
the studies of plant remains discovered in the Eastern Desert of Egypt, including Mons
Claudianus (Van der Veen 2003) and Didymoi (Tendberg 2011). On these issues, see the paper by
Van der Veen, Bouchaud and Newton 2017.
16. Cuvigny 2014.
17. During the Roman Republic and the Early Empire, the legionaries were receiving rations of
wheat the price of which was detracted from their salary: Speidel, 1992, p. 98 and n. 79.
18. Cuvigny 2014, p. 71.
19. The olive oil was freely granted to the soldiers from the 2nd century. The wine was detracted
from the salary during the Early Empire then granted from Aurelian: Tchernia 1986, p. 17.
330
20. Didymoi: Brun 2011, Fig. 223, Fig. 238; Leguilloux 2011, p. 172. At Maximianon: Leguilloux
2006, p. 567.
21. Wendrich, Van Neer 1994, p. 183.
22. Cuvigny 2003.
23. Leguilloux 2011, p. 172.
24. Perpillou‑Thomas 1993, pp. 201‑202.
25. P. Oxy. XLII 3055 and 3056, dated AD 285.
26. Small pieces of meat were alternately arranged with layers of salt in a wide mouthed jar or in
recycled amphorae reused for transportation and storage (Cato, Agr 162; Columella XII, 55, 4).
27. Cuvigny 2012, pp. 14 and 183.
28. Cheap muzzles were used for cured meats: a butcher dump discovered during the
excavations of craftsmen discharges at Aqua Sextiae ( Aix-en-Provence) contained bones from
hundreds of cattle and pigs heads, mainly muzzles (mandible and maxilla), cut in small pieces. A
special knife was used for the preparation of “heads pressed” or snouts “salad”: Leguilloux 1997.
29. In a letter written in AD 311, the strategos of the Oxyrhynchite region acknowledges the
reception of 4850 pounds of meat (1,586 kg) for the soldiers of Memphis (P. Oxy. XXXIII 2668).
30. Jones 1964, pp. 628‑629.
31. Duncan‑Jones 1976, pp. 43‑52.
32. P. Oxy. XVI 1903, dated from AD 561 is a receipt issued by a butcher involved in the
distribution of 960 pounds of beef (314 kg) to 30 soldiers, each soldier receiving 30 pounds for a
month (9.8 kg). P. Oxy. XVI 1920 and P. Oxy. XVI 2013 (551 AD) are receipts for meat distributions.
33. Occasionally troops were given free food, in particular during celebrations or religious
festivals taking place regularly: Davies 1971, p. 125; King 1984, pp. 187-218.
34. For Mons Claudianus: O. Claud. II 271, pp. 102-103.
35. Rostovtzeff 1922, pp. 107‑114
36. Van Der Veen 1998, p. 104.
37. Van der Veen 1998, p. 103.
38. This type of meat remained long discredited: in 14th century texts, the poorest
people, who could not even get mutton, consumed horse meat, donkey and camel with
a gradation in quality from the sheep (or goat), pork, cattle, fish, horse, donkey and,
finally, the dromedary: Ashtor 1968, pp. 1034-1035.
39. Dercy 2015, p. 17.
40. Short stays probably limited the possibilities of raising hens and cocks.
41. Van Neer, Lentacker 1996, p. 349; Van Neer 1997, pp. 141‑143.
42. Van Neer, Yrvinck 1998, Figs 17-23.
43. Van Neer, Lentacker 1996, p. 347
44. Van Neer, Ervynck 1997, Figs 17-23
45. Wattenmaker 1979, pp. 250‑252 and 1982, pp. 347‑353.
46. Van Neer, Sidebotham 2002.
47. Wendrich, Van Neer 1994.
48. Van Der Veen, Hamilton-Dyer 1998.
49. Reekmans 1996, p. 27.
50. Orders for fresh fish and salted fish are regularly mentioned in the ostraka of the praesidia of
the two routes: Cuvigny 2006, pp. 273-254; Cuvigny, 2012, p. 32.
51. Hide treatment and leather production were perfectly mastered by Roman craftsmen and
their techniques hardly changed during Antiquity and Middle-Ages and actually the modern era
until the advent of chemical agents. On the technical products and the quality of tanning in
Greek times: Dercy 2015; in Roman times: Leguilloux 2004; Van Driel-Murray, 2008.
331
52. About the use of raw skin by the inhabitants of the praesidium of Didymoi: Leguilloux 2006b,
Figs 6, 7.
53. About the use of raw skin on the praesidia of Dios and Xèron: Leguilloux forthcoming b.
54. Leguilloux forthcoming, d.
55. Palmyrene archers are known at Koptos from AD 183-185, but their deployment along the
route to Berenike does not appear prior to the start of the 3rd century.
56. Cuvigny 2012, p. 1315.
57. Wendrich, Van Neer 1994, p. 183.
58. Van Neer, Ervynck 1998, figs 17‑23.
59. Reekmans 1996, p. 23.
60. Perpillou‑Thomas 1993, p. 207.
61. Roman papyri indicate that numerous animals were consumed during religious festivals:
Perpillou Thomas 1993, pp. 206-207.
62. Boak 1933, pp. 88-92.
63. According to D. Cardon’s presentation at the conference: http://www.college-de-france.fr/
site/jean-pierre-brun/symposium-2016-03-31-09h30.htm.
AUTHOR
Martine Leguilloux
Archeozoologist, researcher associated, Camille Jullian center (University Aix-
Marseille)
332
Roman Life in the Eastern Desert of

Egypt: Food, Imperial Power and
Geopolitics
Marijke Van der Veen, Charlène Bouchaud, René Cappers and Claire
Newton
Introduction
1 The Eastern Desert of Egypt, located between the Nile and the Red Sea, has a mean
annual rainfall of just 5mm and is today classified as hyper-arid, and these arid
conditions were already in place well before the start of the Roman period (Zahran and
Willis 1992). Consequently, vegetation is sparse, except in some well-watered wâdis,
and the region has seen neither agriculture nor permanent occupation during the last
10,000 years. The Eastern Desert is, however, rich in precious resources, ranging from
gold and emeralds used in jewellery and other valuable objects, to high quality stone
used for building, for statuary, for baths, basins and sarcophagi, employed largely in
imperial prestige projects. Additionally, one of the main wâdis, the Wâdi al-Hammâmât,
offers an accessible way through the mountains from the Nile to the Red Sea coast, and
this route has been used at least since pharaonic times; in the Roman period it formed
the main route to the port of Myos Hormos (Sidebotham et al. 2008). The scarcity of
water, the extreme heat and the lack of locally available foodstuffs make for a harsh
environment and travel in or through the region was and is difficult and unforgiving.
Nevertheless, the region was a hive of activity during the early Roman period, with the
development of two major ports for the trade with India (already established during
the Ptolemaic period), several quarries and mines, as well as roads and service stations
to supply these. The inhabitants of these sites came from both Egypt and other parts of
the Roman Empire, and included soldiers and their superiors, specialist and unskilled
workmen, crafts people, passing merchants, wives, prostitutes, and possibly some
slaves (e.g. Cuvigny 2003a and b, 2005). So what was life like for the people working at
the ports and quarries, and at the service stations? Were they living a life of bitter
333
hardship, away from family and friends and without the trappings of standard aspects
of Roman life? Were they far removed from Roman culture, living as they did in a
remote region of the Empire? Or was their work so essential to the core of the Empire
that they were well-integrated and provided for?
2 During the last 30 years many archaeological projects have addressed this and other
questions, and many of the results are presented in this volume. This paper focuses on
one key aspect: food. What did the people working at these various sites eat and how
did they obtain their food? How varied was their diet, do we see differences between
the various sites, and how did their diet compare with that of people living in the Nile
Valley and other parts of the Egypt? Here the botanical remains of foodstuffs,
recovered in abundance from the rubbish heaps associated with the archaeological
sites, are synthesized and discussed. Such remains are available from 10 sites, all dating
to the 1st - early/mid-3rd century AD, though some were occupied before or after this.
The supply of meat and other animal protein is discussed by Martine Leguilloux (2018).
Background
3 The Romans were not the first to exploit the rich resources of the Eastern Desert. Apart
from Pharaonic activity, the first systematic exploitation started in the Ptolemaic
period. This intensified after the Roman occupation of Egypt, and during the late
1st century AD a well organised system was put in place, when the need for reliable
water sources and security became more strongly felt (Brun 2018; Redon 2018;
Sidebotham 1986; Sidebotham et al. 2008). During this time the two major quarry
complexes at Mons Claudianus and Mons Porphyrites were started, and work at the two
ports (Berenike and Myos Hormos) was expanded (Fig. 1). To supply and otherwise
support these ports, quarries and mines a number of roads were constructed from the
Nile valley, along with a series of fortified road-stations (thereafter way-stations),
fortlets or praesidia (Sidebotham 1986, 2018; Sidebotham et al. 2008). Soldiers were
stationed at these way-stations to assist with security and to police the roads. The way-
stations had wells and accommodation, providing water, food and fodder to weary
travellers and their animals, at intervals of a day’s travel, ca. 20-25 km depending on
the terrain.
Fig. 1
334
Map of the Eastern Desert showing the location of sites mentioned in the
text. Map: S. Goddard.
© M. Van der Veen
4 Food and water were needed by those travelling the roads, but also by the people
manning the way-stations and those working at the ports and quarries. As virtually no
food was produced locally in the Eastern Desert, most of it would have to have been
brought in from the Nile valley, or, in the case of fish, from the Red Sea. These supply
routes were long; for example, in antiquity the journey from Qena (Kainepolis) to the
quarry of Mons Claudianus would have taken five days when carrying supplies, that
from Coptos to the port of Myos Hormos six or seven days when using donkeys as the
main transport animal, and from Coptos to Berenike 12 days (Bülow-Jacobsen 2003;
Pliny, Natural History 6.29.103; Strabo, The Geography 17.1.4). Transport of the large,
heavy columns and other stone blocks from the quarries may have taken more than a
month. The quantities of food needed would have been very considerable, in view of
both the large number of quarries, mines, way-stations and ports involved and
considering the number of people working there at certain times of the year. While
exact numbers are not known and would have fluctuated, one ostracon from the quarry
of Mons Claudianus lists the presence of 917 people on a specific day (Cuvigny 2005).
Another 500-900 men may have resided at the way-stations (30+ praesidia with
approximately 15-30 men each; Cuvigny 2003; Maxfield 1996). Additionally, huge
amounts of fodder would have been needed too, as large numbers of working animals
(donkeys and camels) transported the goods from the ports and the stone from the
quarries to the Nile valley, as well as bringing food and water to all the sites. These
animals would have needed to be fed, as the amount of grazing available in the desert
was insufficient.
335
5 Thus, the logistics of bringing huge amounts of food and fodder to all these sites
required very considerable effort and organisation. The rich archives of ostraka
recovered from the rubbish heaps at these desert sites, including accounts, private
letters and instructions, offer a detailed picture of these logistics (e.g. Bagnall 1986;
Bagnall et al. 2000; Bülow-Jacobsen 1997, 2003; Cuvigny 1996, 2000, 2003; Rufing 1993).
We learn that regular food caravans travelled the roads and delivered supplies, while
private letters highlight that many further foods were requested from and sent by
family and friends, either via the caravan or via people travelling to and between the
various stations. Meat and vegetables are frequently mentioned, see also below.
6 Additionally, we have information on the wages of the workforce at the quarries; the
skilled workforce (pagani; stone-masons, smiths, quarrymen) received a monthly wheat
allocation (1 artaba = ca. 39 litres), a wine-ration and a salary of, usually, 47 drachmae.
Once a month these workers wrote down instructions to the quartermaster (entolai)
specifying which foods they wanted and how they wanted their wages spent. From
these we learn that they often arranged for their wheat allocation to be given to their
female relatives in the Nile valley, to be turned into bread before being brought to the
desert, and that their salary was used to buy oil, lentils, onions and dates (Cuvigny
1996). We know that the other, unskilled, workers at the quarries (the familia) were also
paid a salary (amount unknown) and received 1 artaba of wheat, lentils and oil each
month, and, once a year, a set of clothes (Cuvigny 1996, 2000). At the way-stations the
grain for the soldiers was usually delivered in kind, to be ground, converted into bread
and stored there (Brun 2011; Cuvigny 2012: 30; Maxfield 2007; Van der Veen and
Tabinor 2007). While these texts inform us about the supply mechanisms and list
considerable numbers of foodstuffs and food products, much additional information
can be obtained from the botanical, faunal and ceramic evidence. See Leguilloux (2003,
2011, 2018) for the supply of meat and fish, Bouchaud et al. (2018) for the supply of
wood, Bender (2018) and Wild and Wild (2018) for textiles, and Tomber (1996, 2006,
2008, 2018) for the ceramic evidence. Here the evidence from the surviving plant foods
is discussed.
Table 1
Total
No. No.
no.
Site name No. of of No. of of
Type of Hand- ids.
(modern Abbrev samples liters samples liters Reference
site picked Food
name) 0,5 mm 0,5 2 mm 2 plants
mm mm only
Cappers
Berenike BE 228 456 - - √ 45,142
2006
Ports Myos
Hormos Van der
MH 43 57 40 490 √ 9,789
(Quseir al- Veen 2011
Qadim)
Quarries Mons Van der

MC 59 55 63 1260 √ 8,063
Claudianus Veen 2001
336
Van der
Mons Veen,
MP 35 37 31 620 √ 7,530
Porphyrites Tabinor
2007
Tiberianè Van der

TI 8 10 8 160 √ 353
(Barud) Veen 2001
Domitianè/
Kainè
Newton, in
Latomia KL 6 11 - - √ 814
prep.
(Umm
Balad)
Van der
Veen,
Badia BA 10 12 1 20 √ 361
Tabinor
2007
Maximianon Newton,
MA 26 30 2 2 √ 1,975
(al-Zarqā’) unpublished
Way-
stations
Xeron
Bouchaud,
Pelagos XE 19 63 - - √ 14,729
unpublished
(Jirf)
Didymoi
Tengberg
(Kasm DI 34 54 - - √ 2,266
2011
al-Menih)
Archaeological sites in the Eastern Desert with botanical remains dated to the 1st-early/mid 3rd c. AD,
with sample information, abbreviations of site names used in the tables and figures, and bibliographic
references to full archaeobotanical reports. See also Appendix 1.
The botanical evidence

7 Thanks to the arid conditions in the Eastern Desert organic remains are generally well
preserved at these Roman sites, and plant food remains such as grains, seeds, fruit
stones, vegetative plant tissues including chaff, as well as animal bones, textiles,
leather and some papyri, have been recovered during the archaeological excavations.
Botanical food remains are available from 10 excavation projects (Table 1, Fig. 1). These
include the two major ports (Berenike and Myos Hormos), four quarry sites (Mons
Claudianus, Mons Porphyrites, Kainè Latomia (initially called Domitianè, but renamed
Kainè Latomia once Domitian fell from grace; today known as Umm Balad) and
Tiberianè (also known as Barud), as well as four way-stations (Badia, on the way from
Mons Porphyrites to the Nile; Maximianon (also known as al-Zarqā’), on the way from
Myos Hormos to the Nile, and Didymoi and Xeron Pelagos on the way from Berenike to
the Nile). As the excavations were conducted by different archaeological teams and the
sampling for botanical remains was executed at different scales, we use presence/
337
absence of food plants and relative proportions of key components to compare the
plant assemblages from each site. For exact details of the sampling strategies and size
of the assemblages recovered and studied, the reader is referred to the publications of
each site (Table 1, Appendix 1). We concentrate on the 1st to 3rd centuries AD, the period
for which most evidence exists. Data from Ptolemaic period sites are still very scarce,
and while some data are available from late Roman/Late Antique phases of occupation,
these are not yet sufficient for a full synthesis, and are thus only briefly summarised
below, but also listed in Appendices 1 and 2.
8 Almost all of the botanical remains were recovered from so-called sebakh, the large
rubbish heaps of domestic waste found in and around these archaeological sites. They
contain a rich archive of everything the Romans discarded, ranging from papyri and
ostraka, pot sherds, fragments of glass vessels, vestiges of clothing and footwear,
charcoal and ash from the fireplaces, to food and fodder remains such as animal and
fish bones, seeds, fruit stones, nutshells, grain and chaff.
9 It is worth stressing here that food is, of course, intended for human and animal
consumption, so that in archaeology we tend to find primarily those parts of the plants
that are not edible or were not digested, and were discarded in the process of food
preparation and consumption. Thus we find the seeds and stones of fruits such as
olives, grapes, dates, citron and sebesten, the shells of nuts such as walnut, hazelnut
and pine nut, as well as the chaff and straw of the cereals (Fig. 2 and 3). Over and above
these ‘waste’ products –though the chaff and straw is not really ‘waste’, see section on
animal fodder below– we occasionally find table left-overs, and, in small amounts, some
food remains that have been accidentally lost, for example, grains of wheat, barley and
rice, the seeds of herbs and spices, such as coriander, cumin, fennel and black pepper.
The actual number of items is not necessarily indicative of the importance in the diet.
Not only do fruits have varying numbers of ‘seeds’ –e.g. each olive contains one stone,
each fig contains several thousand seeds– their nutritional values also vary, as do their
chances of survival. Rather than concentrating on actual numbers, we rely here
primarily on presence/absence, frequency, and relative proportions of major
components. We hope that this largely counteracts the differences in numbers of
samples and volumes of deposits analysed at each individual site. Where sampling
differences are a concern, this is discussed in the text.
Fig. 2
338
1. Desiccated grains of barley (Hordeum vulgare) from Badia (after Fig. 4.19
in Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007: 106); 2. charred grains of hard/durum
wheat (Triticum durum) from Badia (after Fig. 4.20 in Van der Veen and
Tabinor 2007: 107); 3. desiccated rachis segments of hard/durum wheat
(Triticum durum) from Mons Porphyrites (after Fig. 4.21 in Van der Veen
and Tabinor 2007:108); 4. desiccated husk fragments of rice and 5. hulled
grain of rice (Oryza sativa), both from Myos Hormos (after Fig. 2.5 in Van
der Veen 2011: 46). Photographs: Jacob Morales.
© M. Van der Veen
Fig. 3
1. Seeds of citron (Citrus cf. medica) (after Fig. 4.9 in Van der Veen and
Tabinor 2007: 94); 2. persea (Mimusops laurifolia) (after Fig. 4.10 in Van der
Veen and Tabinor 2007: 95); 3. pine nut (Pinus pinea) (after Fig. 4.11 in
Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007: 95); 4. sebesten or Egyptian plum (Cordia
339
myxa) (after Fig. 4.7 in Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007: 93). All desiccated
and from Mons Porphyrites. Photographs: J. Morales.
© M. Van der Veen
Preservation
10 Botanical remains, like other organic materials, would normally decay over time, but
we do find them in archaeological contexts when certain preservation conditions are
met; these concern charring, waterlogging, desiccation and mineral-replacement. The
hyper-arid conditions in the Eastern Desert mean that desiccation is the main mode of
preservation here. There is little to no bacterial decomposition and most plant remains
are preserved in excellent condition, in desiccated form. Hence, the food remains
discarded by the people living and working at the Eastern Desert sites are still
preserved in the rubbish strewn in and around the settlements –possibly aided by the
fact that there were few browsing omnivores (e.g. goats) to consume the food leftovers
(as is often the case in agricultural settlements). These include vegetative remains, such
as the bracts of artichoke, the skin of onions and the baseplates of garlic (Fig. 4), that is,
items rarely recovered in temperate climates, as well as shells of nuts, cereal chaff, fruit
stones, seeds of herbs, grains and many more. Despite the arid conditions, some sites
suffer from high levels of humidity, for example at sites in parts of the Wâdi al-
Hammâmât, see Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir below.
Fig. 4
1. Artichoke bracts (Cynara cardunculus, var. scolymus) from Mons

Claudianus (Van de Veen 2001); 2. base plates and clove of garlic (Allium
sativum) from Mons Porphyrites (after Fig. 4.15 in Van der Veen and
Tabinor 2007: 97); 3. base plate and skin of onion (Allium cepa) from Mons
Porphyrites (after Fig. 4.14 in Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007: 97). All
desiccated. Photographs: Jacob Morales.
© M. Van der Veen
11 Charred remains are also present at each of the sites (e.g. Fig. 1, item 2). These are food
remains charred during daily domestic activities, such as food preparation and discard,
but also during accidental fires, handicraft activities, etc., and some food remains were
discarded into the fires of the smithies at the quarries. Additionally, animal dung was
used as fuel, and as these animal droppings contained undigested food remains (grains
340
and chaff, see below), these represent a significant component of the charred
assemblage (see Bouchaud et al. 2018; Bouchaud and Redon 2017; Van der Veen 1999).
12 At all ten sites both desiccated and charred remains have been found, but comparing
the two we see that the number of food plants found in desiccated form is considerably
higher than the number found charred (Fig. 5). This highlights the value of sites in
Egypt (and other arid zones), as we obtain a fuller picture of the foods consumed than
is possible in areas where only charred remains are preserved, thus helping us to assess
the direction of loss at those latter sites (Van der Veen 2007).
Fig. 5
Number of food plants recovered at each site, by mode of preservation

(charred and desiccated); 1st-early 3rd c. AD only. For abbreviated site
names and size of each dataset, see Table 1. DI (Didymoi): information
not available.
© M. Van der Veen
What did they eat?

13 Remarkably, considering the remote location of the sites and the long supply routes,
the range of different plant foods recovered is much broader than originally expected,
with some sites having as many as 50+ different plant foods (Fig. 6). There are
variations across the different types of site, see below, but 27 food taxa have been
recovered in either all ten sites or in at least eight of these (Table 2; a full list, including
Latin names is provided in Appendix 2). It is worth remembering here that the actual
number of occurrences is a very rough measure of the importance of a food in the diet.
Not only are some foods more nutritious or more essential in the diet than others, but
some have a higher chance of being preserved. For example, many fruits have pits or
stones that are discarded when the fruit is consumed, thus giving a higher survival rate
than foods that leave little waste material, such as certain vegetables, herbs (e.g.
coriander), pulses and certain oil-rich seeds (e.g. sesame). The presence of these is
remarkable and highly significant.
Table 2
341
The most common food plants found at the ten Early Roman sites
discussed in the text, that is, those that are found in 8 or more of the 10
sites; desiccated and charred preservation combined; 1st-early/mid 3rd c.
AD sites only. √=present, √√=present in 50+% of samples, ?= identification
not certain. See Table 1 for abbreviations and Appendix 2 for a complete
list of all food plants found.
Fig. 6
Total number of plant food taxa, by food category, recovered at each site,
combining desiccated and charred remains; 1st-early 3rd c. AD only. For
abbreviated site names and size of each dataset, see Table 1.
© M. Van der Veen
342
14 Two cereals, hard or durum wheat and hulled six-row barley (Fig. 2), are included in
these 27 very common food taxa, with barley not just occurring in all ten sites, but also
in 50% or more of the samples at all of these. Most sites also have small amounts of one
or two other types of wheat, that is, emmer wheat and bread wheat (Appendix 2). They
occur in such low quantities that they may simply represent contaminants from
previous crops and/or poorly developed or immature specimens of durum wheat, but
at a few sites (KL, MA, XE) slightly larger amounts of emmer wheat are present,
suggesting emmer may have come in as a separate crop. Emmer, a hulled wheat, was
the dominant wheat crop of the Pharaonic period, but was replaced by free-threshing
durum or hard wheat during the Ptolemaic period, though it may have continued to be
grown on a small scale during the Roman period (e.g. Clapham and Rowley-Conwy 2007;
Cappers et al. 2007; Thanheiser 2002). Note that a considerable amount of emmer wheat
was also found in Islamic period Qusayr-al Qadim/Kusayr, though in one sample only
(Van der Veen 2011). Bread wheat, another free-threshing wheat, is common at some
Roman sites, for example at Kellis in the Dahkleh Oasis and at Qasr Ibrim in southern
Egypt (Clapham and Rowley-Conwy 2007; Thanheiser 2002), but its spread throughout
Egypt is a modern phenomenon (Cappers 2016). The Roman Eastern Desert sites are
predominantly receiving hard or durum wheat, which was grown in the Nile valley. The
high frequency of barley grain, as well as wheat and barley chaff, is discussed below, in
the section titled ‘Animal fodder’.
15 Lentils are also very common at all sites, as are peas and vetches, while termis beans,
fava beans and chickpeas occur in smaller numbers. All offer important nutrition,
especially vegetable protein, in diets where meat protein was a rare luxury, while the
two oil-rich seeds, safflower and linseed (flaxseeds), contribute essential fatty acids.
This group of common foods also includes eight different types of fruit, i.e. dates,
grapes, figs, olives, sebesten, dom, pomegranate and Christ’s thorn, which among them
provide important vitamins and minerals, including essential Vitamin C. The other
fruit, colocynth, may have had medicinal applications. Less common but still frequent
are watermelon, melon and/or cucumber –the seeds of these are difficult to tell apart–
persea and caper. Vegetables such as garlic, onion, leaf beet and cabbage also
contribute vital minerals and vitamins (e.g. vitamin A, C, K, magnesium, calcium, iron),
and onion and garlic also have important anti-inflammatory properties. Other
vegetables, such as bottlegourd, cress and lettuce, occur less frequently (see below).
Somewhat surprisingly, there are five herbs included in this list of most common food
taxa, that is, coriander, fennel, cumin, black cumin and ammi. These are important in
that they offer different flavours and tastes, thus facilitating the creation of variety in
the basic staples (cereals, pulses). They are also commonly used in a wide variety of
medicinal applications. Other herbs, found slightly less frequently, are dill, black
mustard, aniseed and celery (Appendix 2).
16 These results highlight that the supply of basic foods to each of the settlements was
consistent and good, though, of course, shortages will have occurred. The full range of
foods will not have been accessible to all (see below), but the botanical evidence
highlights that the potential range of foods that the workers and soldiers received was
the foundation of a nutritious and well-balanced diet, providing essential
carbohydrates (energy), protein, essential fatty acids, essential vitamins and minerals,
medicinal properties, as well as enough different flavours to create variety.
343
17 The rich archaeobotanical record from the Eastern Desert stands in contrast to that of
the Nile valley, the oases and the Faiyum, from where archaeobotanical evidence is still
relatively scarce (though see Cappers 2005; Cappers et al. 2007; Clapham and Rowley-
Conwy 2007; Murray 2000; Newton and Clapham in press; Newton et al. 2005; Smith
2003; Thanheiser 2002; Thanheiser and König 2008; Thanheiser and Walter 2015;
Thanheiser et al. 2016). Enough sites have been published, though, to carry out a simple
comparison, and this highlights that all the foods available at those sites have also been
found at the Eastern Desert sites. This indicates that the people working and living in
the Eastern Desert had access to all the foods available in the Nile Valley, subject to the
usual factor of social status.
Access to luxuries
18 As mentioned above, there is remarkable consistency in the number of different plant
foods (the number of different taxa, not the number of seeds) across the ten sites.
People at all the sites were in receipt of cereal grain, pulses, fruits, oil-rich seeds,
vegetables and some herbs and spices, but there is a marked contrast between the sites
in the number of different taxa (Fig. 6). While differences in the number of samples
analysed may have some bearing on this, the pattern seems robust. Four sites, namely
the two ports of Berenike and Myos Hormos, and two of the quarries, Mons Claudianus
and Mons Porphyrites, have access to more than 50 different plant foods, while the
remaining six sites (two quarries and four way-stations) have access to between 16 and
32 taxa, which, nevertheless, represents a good dietary range, as discussed above. The
four sites with 50 or more food plants are characterized by greater variety, by a wider
range of nuts, fruits, as well as herbs, spices and vegetables (Table 3). For example,
almond, pine nut, hazelnut and walnut are fairly common at these four ‘food-rich’ sites,
but absent at the way-stations and two of the quarries, with the exception of some very
scarce remains of hazelnut and walnut at Maximianon. Most of the plants found at the
four ‘food-rich’ sites are foods that must have been rare and expensive in the Nile
valley at the time, such as the nuts, but also fruits such as apple, peach, apricot, plum
and citron, certain vegetables (e.g. artichoke), as well as imports such as black pepper
and rice (Fig. 2 and 7). Other rare foods are sesame, fenugreek and tamarind. These
foods can be described as ‘extras’ or luxuries, that is foods not essential to human
nutrition, but offering something extra (Van der Veen 2003), such as extra flavour and
aroma (black pepper, fenugreek, sesame, several herbs, citron), variety (apple, peach,
plum, artichoke, endive, rue, purslane), additional tastes and texture (the nuts, which
also provided extra protein, minerals and fatty acids).
Table 3
344
Occurrence of so-called ‘extras’ or 'luxury foods' at the four 'food-rich'

sites, i.e. at Berenike, Myos Hormos, Mons Claudianus and Porphyrites;
desiccated and charred remains combined; 1st-early/mid 3rd c. AD sites
only. See Table 1 for abbreviations and Appendix 2 for a complete list of
all food plants found.
Fig. 7
345
1. Black peppercorns (Piper nigrum) (after Fig. 2.3 in Van der Veen 2011:
44); 2. belleric myrobalans (Terminalia bellirica) (after Fig. 2.8 in Van der
Veen 2011: 51); 3. black cumin (Nigella sativa) (after Fig. 4.20 in Van der
Veen 2011: 168), and 4. sesame (Sesamum indicum) (after Fig. 4.15 in Van
der Veen 2011: 160). All desiccated and from Myos Hormos. Photographs:
Jacob Morales.
© M. Van der Veen
19 This pattern of food occurrences highlights that at Berenike, Myos Hormos, Mons
Claudianus and Mons Porphyrites there were individuals who were in receipt of a wider
range of foods than most of the workers and soldiers, suggesting that at these four sites
there was a regular presence of senior personnel, including army officers, who could
afford to get such extras on a regular basis. This fits very well with what we know of
these sites. All four would have had significant numbers of higher ranking personnel;
the two ports because of the need to supervise the spice trade, which was both
expensive and lucrative, and the two quarries Mons Claudianus and Mons Porphyrites,
because of the need to oversee the workings at the quarries, both large quarry
complexes supplying prestigious imperial building projects in Rome. The other two
quarries, Tiberianè and Kainè Latomia, are much smaller, subsidiary operations, run
from Mons Claudianus and Mons Porphyrites, and thus without the need for permanent
senior personnel. At the way-stations (praesidia) such individuals would not be resident,
but would travel through on the way to the ports or the two large quarry complexes.
Notably, their sporadic presence is reflected in the botanical assemblages, in that these
‘extras’ are only rarely found here. Similarly, these foods are rarely mentioned in the
ostraka; for example, we know of only one mention each of citron, fenugreek, and four
mentions of apples in the ostraka from these way-stations, and of rare references to
chickpea, pine nut, sesame and artichoke in those from Mons Claudianus (Bulow-
Jacobsen 2003; Cuvigny pers. comm.), corroborating the botanical evidence that these
foods were available to certain individuals only.
Vegetable gardens
20 A surprising find was that of seeds of certain vegetables, such as leaf beet, cabbage,1
lettuce, cress and endive (Table 4). It is normally the fresh green leaves of these plants
that are consumed, not the seeds (though oil can and has been extracted from the seeds
of the brassicas and lettuce). We would expect to find these seeds in locations where
the seeds are sown, and where the plants are cultivated and harvested, that is, in
horticultural locations such as gardens. The leaves are harvested before the plant sets
seed, but occasionally the plants will bolt before the leaves have been picked. When
vegetables have bolted, they are not normally sold, as the leaves will no longer be
palatable. The presence of the seeds of these green vegetables thus suggests that green
vegetables were cultivated in the desert, at several sites, with either waste water or
water from the wells (Cappers 1998, 2006: 140-141; Van der Veen 1998; 2001: 200-201;
Van der Veen and Hamilton-Dyer 1998). This makes sense, as fresh green vegetables
would have formed an important contribution to the intake of vitamin C and iron, and
the long supply routes would have made regular delivery of such greens problematic;
most would have wilted before arrival. This botanical evidence for the local cultivation
of green vegetables is corroborated by textual evidence found at these sites, by the
346
ostraka, which include private letters requesting or confirming delivery of vegetables,

e.g. beet (O.Claud. 150, 228, 232), cabbage (O.Claud. 226, 229, 255, 256; O.Krok. 85.4-6;
O.Did. 391, 377, 461), endive/chicory (O.Claud. 228), lettuce (O.Claud. 226, 370) and
‘vegetables’ unspecified (O.Claud. 238, 256, 258, 270). The origin and destination of these
letters likewise suggest that these vegetables were grown at several locations in the
desert (Bingen 1997; Bülow-Jacobsen 1992, 1997; Cuvigny 2007, 2011). See also
discussion section below.
Table 4
Ports Quarries Way-stations
Site name abbrev: BE MH MC MP TI KL BA MA XE DI
Cabbage - √√ √√ √√ √√ ? √√ √ ? -
Leaf beet √ √√ √√ √√ √√ √ √√ √ √ -
Cress - √ √√ √ √√ ? - - - -
Lettuce - - √ √ √ √ - √ - -
Endive - - √ √ √ - - - - -
Basil - - √ √ √ - - - - -
Mint - - √ √ √ - - - - -
Rue - - √ √ √ - - - - -
Purslane - - √√ √√ - - √ - - -
Occurrence and relative abundance of seeds of green vegetables at each site; desiccated and charred
preservation combined; 1st-early/mid 3rd c. AD sites only. √= present, √√= in 20% or more of samples, ?
= identification not certain. See Table 1 for abbreviations and Appendix 2 for a complete list of all food
plants found.
21 It is worth noting that the vegetable seeds are more common at the quarry sites, than
at the ports or way-stations, and this despite the fact that at both Kainè Latomia and
Tiberianè the number of samples analysed was very low (Tables 1 and 4). As the
sampling strategy at the port of Myos Hormos was identical to that at the quarries of
Mons Claudianus, Porphyrites and Tiberianè, where such seeds were relatively
widespread, a difference in sampling cannot be the (only) explanation. It may be that
the workers at the quarries stayed on location longer than those working in the ports,
and thus were in need of fresh greens more regularly, and, maybe, had more spare time
as well. It may also be that locations where such vegetables could be grown were
located more closely to the quarries than the ports. Certainly, fresh water, rare though
that is in the desert, was easier to access in the desert than on the coast, where most
water would have been brackish. The ostraka highlight that there were certain way-
stations specialising in vegetable growing, such as at Persou (Fawâkhir), Phoinikon (al-
Laqîta) and Kompasi (Bi’r Daghbag), all three located on the roads to the ports
347
(Berenike and Myos Hormos), as well as at Raïma, location unknown (Bingen 1997;
Bülow-Jacobsen 2003; Cuvigny, 2007). However, the common occurrence of seeds of
these leafy vegetables at the quarries of Mons Claudianus and Porphyrites indicates
that they were grown here too. This is corroborated by an, as yet unpublished, ostracon
from Mons Claudianus which instructs one of the men to go and work in the garden:
“let Petraerès go work in the garden” (O.Claud. inv. 729; Cuvigny, pers. comm.). Given
the remote location of the quarry and settlement of Kainè Latomia, the presence of
seeds of green leafy vegetables here (lettuce, beet and possibly cress and cabbage) also
points to local cultivation, probably by a nearby well, Sabelbi, mentioned in ostraka, or
at Prasou (Cuvigny, pers. comm.).
22 That sufficient water was always an issue is clear from two ostraka: from O.Claud. 280,
which is a request for water and manure in connection with the comment that “the
vegetables have not grown yet” (Bingen 1997), and from an ostracon recovered at Umm
Balad (late 1st or early 2 nd century AD; O.KaLa. inv. 200; Cuvigny pers. comm.). It is a
letter written by the curator of a nearby way-station where there was a vegetable
garden. The text explains that a shortage of water has meant that the vegetables have
not grown very well. He sends the bunches of greens (roots and leaves) from 7 small
planting beds in the hope that they may be of some use, possibly to be given to the
workers, as they would be unworthy for the table of the addressee, Hieronymos, an
architectus also known from Mons Claudianus. This letter might be taken to mean that
vegetables were normally intended for people of high status, but other interpretations
are possible too, see discussion below.
Animal fodder
23 One of the most numerous categories of plant remains found was chaff (rachis nodes)
and straw, and especially that of durum or hard wheat, while grains of barley were also
numerous (Fig. 2). To give an impression of the quantities involved, the total number of
wheat chaff fragments from the ten sites exceeds 20,000 and the number of barley
grains exceeds 3,000 (data from samples sieved over 0.5mm only). When we plot the
relative proportions of wheat and barley chaff as well as wheat and barley grain, a
distinct pattern emerges (Fig. 8 and 9). Wheat chaff is consistently more numerous than
barley chaff (on average wheat represents ca. 80%, barley chaff 20%), while these
proportions are the reverse for the grain (barley grain ca. 75%, as against 25% of wheat
grain). While people do and did eat barley, most will by preference eat wheat. We also
know from the ostraka that the workers at the two main quarry complexes were paid
partly in wheat and that this wheat was often made into bread by family in the Nile
valley, before being sent to the quarry (see above). Thus, the lower amounts of wheat
grain do not mean that wheat was not consumed, but that most of it was eaten and thus
not discarded in the rubbish heaps. Moreover, a considerable amount of wheat arrived
in the desert already converted into flour or bread. Besides, the wheat would have been
a precious foodstuff, not to be wasted. Barley reached the site as grain and may have
been used to make bread, gruel or porridge, but may additionally, or, more likely, have
been brought in primarily to feed the animals.
Fig. 8
348
Relative proportions of desiccated barley and wheat grains at each site;

1st - early 3rd c. AD only. N = cereal grain (minimum number of
individuals) in samples sieved over 0.5mm mesh (i.e. excluding hand-
picked material and ‘large’ samples). For abbreviated site names, see
Table 1.
© M. Van der Veen
Fig. 9
Relative proportions of desiccated barley and wheat chaff (rachis nodes)

at each site; 1st - early 3rd c. AD only. N = cereal rachis nodes (1 rachis
node = 1) in samples sieved over 0.5 mm mesh (i.e. excluding hand-picked
material and ‘large’ samples). For abbreviated site names, see Table 1.
© M. Van der Veen
24 The quantities of barley grain and wheat chaff recovered are interpreted as animal
fodder. The working animals at these sites were donkeys and camels and large numbers
349
of them will have been needed for the long journeys across the desert. Today these
pack animals are fed green fodder, chaff and straw of wheat as roughage, as well as
barley grain as a power food. Barley grain is especially important when animals have to
perform demanding tasks, such as pulling carts with heavy stone from the quarries.
Corroboration that the working animals were indeed fed these foods comes from the
remains of dung found at the excavations. Both undigested wheat chaff and barley
grains have been found in the animal droppings of camels and donkeys (but not in
those of sheep or goat) (Fig. 10). See also Bouchaud and Redon 2017; Van der Veen 2001:
207-8; Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007: 99; Van der Veen 2011: 175). Moreover, the texts
indicate that some barley was intended for the pigs and piglets that were kept at some
sites (Bülow-Jacobsen 2003; Leguilloux 2018). Some of the desiccated chaff and barley
grain recovered from the sebakh deposits may represent dung that has disintegrated, or
remains of animal and human bedding material, but much of it will be fodder that was
not consumed. Clearly these animals were rather messy eaters, and the fodder that was
not consumed, especially the wheat chaff and straw, would have been blown around
the site by the wind and thus became incorporated into the many refuse dumps. These
remains were found at every site and in virtually all sebakh, highlighting the
importance of these animals to the exploitation of the Eastern Desert and the numbers
in which they must have been present at the settlements (see also Leguilloux 2018).
Fig. 10
Desiccated camel dung from Mons Porphyrites, showing complete barley

grains and wheat chaff incorporated in the droppings (after Fig. 4.16 in
Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007: 99). Photographs: Jacob Morales.
© M. Van der Veen
350
Indian trade: pepper and other exotics

25 As mentioned, two of the sites studied were ports for the trade with the East, especially
the trade in spices and other commodities from India and further afield, and some
evidence for this trade has, indeed, been found. Foodstuffs imported from the Indian
subcontinent include black pepper, recovered in quantity at both ports, as well as rice,
mung bean, coconut, belleric myrobalan, emblic myrobalan and Job’s tears, the latter
possibly representing beads rather than food, though also edible (Table 5; Figs 2 and 7)
(Cappers 2003, 2006; Van der Veen 2011; Van der Veen and Morales 2015; Wendrich et
al. 2003). Most of these imports are found exclusively at the two ports, though two
peppercorns were found at Mons Claudianus, one rice grain at Didymoi, and one
fragment of coconut at Xeron. Remarkably, there is no botanical evidence for the other
spices traded, such as cinnamon, ginger, long pepper, or cardamom. It is worth
remembering, however, that these latter spices were very expensive and thus out of
reach of most people living and working in the ports. Their expense also meant that
every effort would have been made to avoid spillage during transhipment in the ports.
The eastern foodstuffs were largely intended for the wealthy in Rome and other parts
of the Empire and they were used in perfumery, ritual and medicine, rather than
exclusively in cuisine. The exception is black pepper, which was not only more widely
available, but also more extensively used in cuisine. Thus, the absence of cinnamon,
ginger and other spices at the ports does not mean that they were not traded and
imported, but, instead, that they were not consumed by the residents of the ports and
that accidental spillage during transhipment was avoided.
Table 5
Ports Quarries Way-stations
Site name abbrev: BE MH MC MP TI KL BA MA XE DI
Black pepper √√ √√ √ - - - - - - -
Rice √√ √√ - - - - - - - √
Coconut √√ √√ - - - - - - √ -
Mung bean √ √ - - - - - - - -
Belleric myrobalan - √ - - - - - - - -
Emblic myrobalan √ - - - - - - - - -
Job’s tears √ - - - - - - - - -
Occurrence and relative abundance of spices and other foodstuffs imported from the Indian
subcontinent at each site; desiccated and charred preservation combined; 1st-early/mid 3rd c. AD sites
only. √=present, √√=in 20% or more of the samples. See Table 1 for abbreviations and Appendix 2 for a
complete list of all food plants found.
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26 In contrast, much of the pepper found at the ports may represent accidental loss during
transhipment or storage. For example, at Berenike much of the pepper was found near
buildings associated with the trade, while at Myos Hormos the pepper is mostly found
in an area near the harbour, where the road sets off for the Nile valley, which is where
transhipment took place, though at both sites some pepper was recovered from areas
representing food preparation and consumption (Cappers 2006: 114; Van der Veen
2011: 190-194). As mentioned, pepper is the most numerous spice in the deposits at the
ports; in Berenike in excess of 3,000 peppercorns were recovered. It was, in actual fact,
the most common spice traded in Roman times, used across the Roman Empire in
cooking and as a table spice, but also in medicine, as an antidote to poison, and,
importantly, in religious ritual (Dalby 2000). It is worth noting here that some 80% of
the peppercorns at Berenike were charred, and much of these were found in
association with shrines and with the temple dedicated to Serapis, suggesting that the
pepper was used in offerings. This matches what we know from historical sources that
pepper, and spices more generally, were indeed used in religious rituals. One
spectacular find is that of a storage jar, containing some 7.5 kg of desiccated
peppercorns in the courtyard of the so-called Serapis temple at Berenike. The jar
originates from India, suggesting the pepper was still in its original packing (Cappers
2006: 114; Tomber 2008: 76-77).
27 Pepper was one of the few imported spices regularly used in cuisine, as can be seen in
the cookbook of Apicius, a collection of ca. 400 recipes probably compiled in the late 4th
or early 5th century AD (Warmington 1928: 182). Out of these recipes some 80% have
black pepper as one of the ingredients, including meat, fish and vegetable dishes, as
well as sweet desserts. Cumin occurs in only 3% of recipes and rice in 1% (Petersen
1980). Rice was imported and consumed in the Roman period, but only used
infrequently and largely in medicinal contexts (André 1981: 54; Dalby 2000: 197;
Dioscorides, De Materia Medica II.117; Konen 1999). The rice at Berenike and Myos
Hormos includes both hulled grains (spikelets, i.e. the grains still enclosed by the hulls)
and also hull fragments. The latter indicate that the rice was dehusked and consumed
at the ports, because the hulls are not easily digested by humans and dehusking thus
takes place prior to food preparation and cooking. It is likely that the rice was
consumed by Indian sailors who temporarily resided in the ports. Their presence is
hinted at by ceramics of Indian origin, epigraphic evidence (graffiti) and other finds
(Tomber 2008: 73-77, 2011; Sidebotham 2011: 74-75).
28 The rare occurrences of mung bean and coconut may also represent foods brought and
consumed by Indian sailors on the journey from India to Egypt, rather than imports or
foods for the workers and other personnel in the ports. Certainly, mung bean has, to
our knowledge, never been found in Roman deposits in the west, and coconut only
once, at Xeron, one of the way-stations on the route from Berenike. Coconut may, in
fact, have been carried on the journey from India not as a foodstuff, but as a raw
material to make rope, cordage and caulking. The remains found at the ports consist of
fragments of the shell (endocarp) and sections of the fibrous husk (mesocarp; coir).
Both belleric myrobalan and emblic myrobalan are fruits mainly used as health
supplements and in medicines. Again, both may represent products brought for
personal use by the Indian sailors (Cappers 2006: 108-109; Van der Veen 2011: 50-53).
352
Changing worlds
29 The picture of a consistent and stable food supply described above is only valid for the
later 1st to early 3rd centuries AD. The political and economic turmoil of the 3rd century
that affected the Roman Empire also had repercussions for the exploitation of the
Eastern Desert. It was no longer viable to maintain both ports and Myos Hormos was
abandoned, while activities at Berenike were much reduced from the later 2nd century,
though these pick up again during the 4th to early 6 th centuries. The quarries at Mons
Claudianus, Tiberianè and Kainè Latomia, are also abandoned, the latter two possibly
during the later 2nd century AD. The quarrying at Mons Porphyrites also sees a hiatus,
but, as at Berenike, activities resume during the 4th and 5 th centuries. Finally,
occupation at many way-stations ceases. It is too early to offer a detailed synthesis of
how this affected the food supply during the later Roman period, but here the little
evidence that currently exists is mentioned.
30 The clearest picture comes from Berenike where there is evidence for a continuation of
the trade with India (black pepper, rice, coconut). The food supply similarly continues,
including wheat, barley, lentils, lupin, dates, grapes, olives, coriander, cumin, and even
a few luxuries (peach, pine nut and walnut), though there is a reduction of those in
range and number (Cappers 2006: 160-162). However, the evidence also points to
change, in particular towards a greater reliance on foods available from the local,
desert area, such as the fruits of Cordia nevillii/sinensis (no English name known), sugar
date, Christ’s thorn, dom palm and bentree. This suggests that contact between the
Roman occupants of the port and the local nomadic population increased, with some of
the native population possibly even residing in the port and satellite sites (ibid.;
Appendix 2). Additionally, we see the appearance of grains of sorghum, a cereal crop
more common further south (in the Sudan), but increasingly becoming important in
southern Egypt (Nubia) and the Western oases by then (Fuller 2014; Thanheiser 2002;
Thanheiser et al. 2016). With several of the way-stations on the road from Berenike to
the Nile Valley abandoned, some of the food supply may have been delivered from
Clysma (ancient Suez) in the north, via the Red Sea (Brun, pers. comm.).
31 At Mons Porphyrites the main fort is abandoned, but one quarry, the Lykabettus
quarry, high up in the mountains, is in use during the 4th and early 5th centuries. It has
a small village housing the workmen nearby (Maxfield 2001a). The quarry operations
are at this time linked with the way-station at Badia, where we find large storage
facilities (probably for food), stone mortars and quern stones suggestive of large-scale
milling of grain (Maxfield 2001b: 223; 2007), which is matched by large deposits of
burnt wheat grain. It is likely that during the Late Roman period communal bread
baking was carried out at Badia, with the bread sent up to the quarry and village of
Lykabettus. Here too we see a reduction in the range of plant foods, especially in the
range of luxuries or extras, though the smaller scale of sampling may be a factor too
(Appendix 2; Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007).
32 The only other Late Roman/Late Antique botanical data currently available come from
the fort of Abu Sha’ar on the Red Sea coast and from the gold mines at Bi’r Umm
Fawâkhir in Wâdi al-Hammâmât. At both these sites the sampling for botanical remains
was very limited and the data can thus not be directly compared with those of the other
sites, but the identifications have been added to Appendix 2. Abu Sha’ar is a Late Roman
fort on the Red Sea coast, built at the beginning of the 4th century AD; it was then
353
abandoned between the middle and the end of this century, and then reoccupied by
Christians during the 5th and 6 th c. AD (Sidebotham 2008: 59). Many of the food plants
are similar to those at the earlier Roman sites, though with a reduced range and
especially fewer herbs (the lack of herbs may be related to different sampling methods
used). Wheat and barley together with lentils, dates, onion and garlic appear to have
been the staples, while fava beans, chickpeas, coriander, olives, grapes and sebesten
also feature. Remarkably, there are good numbers of almonds, walnut and hazelnut, as
well as some peach and one seed of Citrus sp., probably citron, see Appendix 2 (el-
Hadidi and Amer 1996; el-Hadidi and el-Fayoumi 1996; el-Hadidi et al. 1997; Fadl 2013).
33 The assemblage from Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir is very sparse, not just because sampling was
more limited, but because only charred plant remains were recovered. No desiccated
material has survived, probably because there was more water present in the area, the
site being located in a side section of the main Wâdi al-Hammâmât, which is
comparatively well-watered and sees regular flash floods, which must have affected the
preservation of organics. In fact, one of the main vegetable growing sites during the
early Roman period, Persou, was located very close to the gold mine village. The gold
mines and associated settlement were in use during the 5th-6th centuries AD, though
earlier exploitation is known (Meyer 2014). The food plants comprise wheat and barley,
as well as dates, dom, olives, grape, and bottlegourd, see Appendix 2 (Smith 2014).
34 Despite this narrow dataset, the evidence for a somewhat reduced range and greater
reliance on local food plants seems to tally with that of the faunal, textual and
archaeological evidence. The faunal remains also highlight changes in supply and in
particular a greater reliance of locally available foods. In this case a switch from pork
(brought in from the Nile valley) to meat of sheep and goats, most likely obtained from
local nomads (Leguilloux 2018). While several texts refer to hostilities between the
Romans and the local nomadic population (usually referred to as barbaroi), there are
some that imply better relations from the 3rd century onwards, with food and other
products obtained from and sold to them. For instance, several ostraka from Xeron do
refer to the delivery of substantial quantities of wheat to the barbaroi (Cuvigny 2014).
Table 6
Crops from South and South-East Asia African crops
Rice 1 Cardamom Sorghum 2
Lime Ginger Pearl millet 2
Banana Turmeric Black-eyed bean
Aubergine Betelnut Cotton 3
Taro Fagara
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Sugarcane Cotton 3
Food plants from South-East Asia and Africa that become common in Egypt during the Islamic period.
1) rice was imported into Egypt from the Roman period, and cultivated there from the Islamic period; 2)
sorghum and pearl millet start being grown in Egypt during the later Roman period, possibly as early as
the 2nd c. AD (Thanheiser et al. 2016), but their production increases in scale during the Islamic period;
3) cotton was imported from India during the Roman period, and starts being cultivated in Egypt at
that time, but, as with sorghum and pearl millet, its production increases in scale during the Islamic
period. African cotton (a different plant species from the Asian one) has been found in Roman Qasr
Ibrim, southern Egypt (Nubia) (Clapham and Rowley-Conwy 2009; Palmer et al. 2012), meaning that
Egyptian cotton finds may have African as well as Indian origins (aDNA analysis can help distinguish
between the two).
Fig. 11
Total number of plant food taxa recovered at each site, combining

desiccated and charred remains; comparing the Early Roman sites (1st-
early 3rd c. AD) with the medieval Islamic remains from Kusayr (11th-13th
c. AD). For abbreviated site names and size of each dataset, see Table 1,
plus KU=Kusayr. See also Appendix 2.
© M. Van der Veen
35 By the end of the Late Roman period, all these sites are abandoned, but at one port we
see renewed activity in the medieval Islamic period. At Qusayr al-Qadim, the location of
the early Roman port of Myos Hormos, the port is brought back into use during the
11th century AD, but it is now called Kusayr. Two phases of occupation have been
recognized, during the 11th-13th centuries, and on a much reduced scale during the
14th-15th centuries (Peacock and Blue 2006, 2011). While chronologically outside the
scope of this paper, it is worth briefly reviewing the evidence for food plants here, as it
helps highlight the close link between food and geopolitics, and the specific ‘Roman’
character of the 1st-3rd century evidence. A listing of the food remains is given in
Appendix 2 and the data are described in full in Van der Veen (2011). The most striking
aspect of this botanical assemblage is the significantly greater range of food plants
reaching the port during the 11th-13th centuries (80 in total), including the larger
number of spices and other food plants originally from the Indian subcontinent and
Africa (Fig. 11). These include ginger, cardamom and turmeric, as well as sugar cane,
355
aubergine, banana and taro from South and South-East Asia, along with sorghum, pearl
millet and black-eyed bean from Africa (Table 6). This increase in foods from those
regions implies changes in the nature of the trade, as well as changes in the
agricultural system in the Nile valley, as, with exception of the spices, these crops
become integrated into Egyptian agriculture. Importantly, it also highlights stronger
ties with the Indian Ocean world and countries bordering Egypt, and with this the
geopolitical shift that Egypt has undergone after the end of the Roman and Byzantine
periods (Van der Veen 2011; Van der Veen and Morales 2015, 2017). While there are as
yet very few sites of Islamic date with botanical evidence, thus making it difficult to
evaluate the prevalence of these new foodstuffs in Egypt at that time, the ample textual
and historical evidence highlights that these foods had rapidly become part of Egyptian
agriculture and cuisine (Van der Veen 2011: Chapter 3 and Table 3.6).
Discussion
36 Going back to our original question of what life was like for the Romans working in the
Eastern Desert, our evidence indicates that their lives, while obviously different from
that of those living in the Nile valley and other parts of Egypt, were not as dissimilar as
one might expect, especially when we focus on food. Plant foods would have been the
main source of energy and protein in the diet for most of the inhabitants of Egypt, and
the range of plant foods available in the desert during the later 1st to early 3rd centuries
AD was very similar to what was available in other parts of Egypt, from where most of
the food originated. This is not as surprising as it may seem at first. Great care and
effort was invested in organising the trade of eastern commodities and the quarrying of
prestigious building stones (granodiorite and porphyry), and this same care and effort
was invested in looking after the people who made this possible. This supply seems
very organised and stable with a wide range of staple foods delivered on a regular basis.
This range is considerably greater than the rations mentioned in the ostraka imply, and
also much greater than can be inferred from the private letters. It is illustrative in this
respect that most of the extra or luxury foods at the two ports and two major quarry
complexes (Table 3) are not mentioned in the ostraka, highlighting the fact that many
foodstuffs were delivered to the sites without the need for written documentation. It is
clear that private enterprise flourished, including the growing of green vegetables in
small garden plots at sites where enough water was available (including at the major
quarries), using private letters along with oral communications to request and receive
additional foods and other goods from family and friends in the Nile valley and in other
stations in the desert, as well as ad hoc, individual purchases from the food caravans.
37 We will never know in exact detail what degree of difference existed between the
various classes of people working and living in the desert in terms of access to
foodstuffs. The large heaps of domestic waste (sebakh) found in and around each of our
sites were often repositioned, moved from one room to another or redeposited outside
of the settlement when the need arose, something observed in many areas of Egypt and
other arid zone countries (Rowley-Conwy 1994; Van der Veen 2007), so that we are
rarely able to define different social groups by spatially differentiated refuse. Our
evidence does, however, indicate that higher ranking officers were able to access a
wider range of extras, such as hazelnuts, walnuts, almonds and pine nuts, artichoke,
peach, citron, mulberry, persea, black pepper, and fenugreek. Social differences in
356
access to certain foods did, of course, exist throughout the Roman Empire, and Egypt
would have been no exception. What the botanical evidence suggests is that within
their social rank the people living and working in the desert had access to more or less
the same plant foods as they would have had in the Nile valley.
38 One unexpected aspect of our results concerns the growing of green vegetables in the
desert, something the ostraka have corroborated. The ostraka give the impression that
it was primarily the soldiers and their officers who asked for and received these green
vegetables (Bülow-Jacobsen 2003), though care is needed with this interpretation.
Firstly, soldiers and civilian workers often had the same names and the letters rarely
mention the profession of the writer or recipient, though future detailed analysis of the
names may provide more information (Cuvigny pers. comm.). Secondly, while the
soldiers earned more than the skilled civilian workers, the latter earned more than
their counterparts in the Nile valley (Cuvigny 1996), probably as compensation for
living away from family for long spells of time. Consequently these workers would have
had the means to purchase extra foods if they so wished. Thirdly, we should remember
that the writing of letters is culturally and socially determined. The workers at the
quarries may, for example, have utilized different forms of communication to stay in
touch with relatives and friends in the Nile valley, such as oral messages sent via the
caravan, and obtained extras that way. Finally, the ostraka mentioning vegetables and
the seeds of green vegetables may represent evidence from different groups of people,
that is, the ostraka may principally represent the activities of the soldiers, and the
seeds those of the workmen at the quarries (see Van der Veen 1998 for a fuller
discussion). Most of the soldiers were stationed at the various way-stations; at some of
these there was enough water to grow vegetables, and these were sent from there to
other stations. We know that they were sent from an unknown station to the quarries
at Mons Claudianus too, but vegetables were also cultivated at Mons Claudianus itself,
which is clear not just from the many vegetable seeds recovered here, but also from an
ostracon from Mons Claudianus instructing one of the men to go and work in the garden
(see above). Significantly, having access to several lines of evidence from these sites
(botanical, ceramic, faunal and textual) allows us to appreciate that only by combining
all this evidence are we able to get closer to a full reconstruction of the food supply and
what it signifies.
39 Plant foods were the most important component of the diet, but they were, of course,
not the only foods consumed. The ceramic evidence highlights that vast quantities of
wine and olive oil (that is, processed plant foods), as well as fish-sauce, were delivered
to each of the sites, including some from as far afield as Spain, Italy and Greece
(Tomber 1996, 2006, 2008, 2018). The ostraka also mention processed foods, such as
wine, beer, vinegar and oil (Bülow-Jacobsen 2003). Moreover, the faunal remains
indicate that the two ports, as well as the quarries Mons Claudianus and Porphyrites
received large quantities of Red Sea fish, while all sites received pork, small amounts of
sheep or goat, as well as chicken. The chicken and the piglets were often kept on site.
At the quarries the working animals were also consumed, probably when these animals
had reached the end of their useful lives (Hamilton-Dyer 2001, 2007, 2011; Leguilloux
2003, 2011, 2018; Van Neer 1997). The faunal remains show more variability across the
sites in availability of animal protein, partly related to closeness to the Nile valley and/
or the Red Sea, and partly to the relative abundance, and thus availability, of donkeys
and camels for work purposes (see Leguilloux 2018).
357
40 We can thus conclude that, despite their remote location, the people working and living
in these Eastern Desert sites were, in terms of food, well-looked after. This is further
corroborated by other evidence. For example, to improve the psychological comfort of
the quarry workers the Roman authorities arranged for their families to be brought
closer to the quarries, by creating a new town, Kainè (modern Qena), in the Nile valley,
at the point where the roads to the quarries departed (Cuvigny 1998). These relatives
converted the wheat rations of the workers into bread before it was brought into the
desert, and no doubt other foods and goods will have been delivered along with the
bread. At several sites, including at the way-stations on the roads to the two ports and
the quarries, women and children were able to live alongside the men, and at many
sites there is evidence for the regular arrival of prostitutes (Cuvigny 2003; Van Rengen
1992). All this suggests that many of the needs of the men were catered for in one form
or another. This is not to say that life was always easy and comfortable; the heat and
dust of the desert combined with, especially at the quarries, the hard labour would
have made for a difficult life, with occasional shortages, and with at times the threat of
attacks by the local nomads, who, in the ostraka, were often referred to as ‘barbarians’.
41 One notable aspect of our results is the fact that the botanical evidence highlights that
these Eastern Desert sites and their inhabitants were fully embedded within the Roman
Empire and its political and economic fortunes. While the eastern trade was driven by
the Roman elite’s desire and demand for “eastern” goods, the costs of sustaining the
ports and the roads could be met by levying taxes on the spices and other eastern
imports. In contrast, the extraction of the stone was a purely imperial vanity project, it
made no economic sense. The stone was used in prominent imperial building projects
(e.g. the Pantheon, Trajan’s Forum, baths, basins, sarcophagi, statuary), and both the
complexity of its extraction and the remoteness of its origin emphasized and enhanced
the greatness and prestige of the emperors; the stone was a symbol of imperial power
(Peacock 1992). Both the trade and the quarrying required complex logistical linkages
between the Eastern Desert and the Nile valley, the Red Sea coast and India, and
between Rome, the Mediterranean and further west. When the Empire was hit by
political and economic upheaval in the 3rd century AD, this directly affected the sites in
the Eastern Desert, with one port and one major quarry complex, as well as a number of
way-stations, abandoned, others temporarily reduced in size and function. By the
4th century operations resumed. By then, power relations in the desert had also
changed, with evidence for greater cooperation with the local nomadic population and
greater reliance on foods provided by them, rather than brought in from the Nile
valley, though the latter still occurred, with further provisions possibly being shipped
in from Clysma (ancient Suez).
42 The link between food, identity and geopolitics becomes even clearer when we compare
the foodstuffs available in the Eastern Desert during the Roman period with those
during the medieval Islamic period when Egypt had become part of the Islamic world.
Many eastern spices that were imported during the Roman period, but largely used in
ritual and perfumery –the exception is black pepper–, are now more widely available
and used in cuisine. Additionally, many other foodstuffs from South and South-East
Asia have become incorporated into agriculture and cuisine. In many ways we can see
the food choices of the people working and living in the Eastern Desert as expressions
of identity. Despite working in a remote region, or more accurately, because of working
in a remote desert location, the choice of foods was strongly focused on those that were
358
current in the Nile Valley. In the Roman period these are foods widely available in
Egypt and the Mediterranean at that time. In contrast, by the medieval Islamic period
the political alignment of Egypt had changed, and we now see many of the spices and
other foodstuffs from South and South-East Asia accessible and incorporated into both
agriculture and cuisine. Foodways had changed and shifted from a focus on Rome to a
focus on the Middle East (for a fuller discussion, see Van der Veen 2011; Van der Veen
and Morales 2017). Importantly, we should regard these changes in diet (and
agriculture and trade) not as passive outcomes or passive consequences of geopolitical
transformations. Identities are created and maintained through food. What it is to be
part of the Roman Empire is connected to food practices, to the daily routine of
acquiring, preparing and consuming food. Thus, the changes we see in the
archaeobotanical record between the Roman and medieval Islamic periods were part of
the geopolitical realignment of the Eastern Desert and of Egypt at that time. This
realignment was not just a political reality; it was a reality in everyday life.
Conclusion
43 There can be no doubt that the goods produced by the quarries were of great
significance to the expression of imperial power, and that the “eastern” goods
imported via the ports were central to the lives of many, including the social elite. This
explains the huge investment in infrastructure and protection in the Eastern Desert.
Roads and way-stations were constructed to supply these sites and regular caravans
brought food, water and many other items needed. The botanical and faunal remains,
together with the ceramics and textual evidence, recovered at these Roman sites
highlight that the delivery of food was well organised and consistent. The botanical
assemblages at the different sites are very similar to one another, and together with
the documentary evidence point to a well-planned supply system, with standard
supplies augmented through a variety of private enterprise, such as growing green
vegetables in the desert, requesting foods from family and friends back in the Nile
Valley, as well as individual purchases from passing caravans. Notwithstanding the
many logistical obstacles and inevitable shortages and delays in the supplies arriving at
the sites, the range of foods available to the workers and soldiers was impressively
wide, including all basic essentials (cereal grain, pulses, fruits, oil-rich seeds, and
vegetables), as well as several herbs, the latter including taxa such as coriander, fennel,
black cumin and ammi. Some were also able to access luxuries such as artichoke,
almonds, pine nuts, walnuts, citron, persea, peach, apple, plum and sesame. These
latter foods were, considering their expense, probably restricted to the higher-ranking
officers, which is borne out by the fact that they were recovered primarily from sites
that housed such personnel.
44 The Eastern Desert was important to the Roman Empire, as a source of prestigious
building materials, precious stones and metals, as well as the eastern commodities
brought to the Red Sea ports. These high-status, as well as a few quotidian, goods
played a central role in the way the Empire functioned and this is reflected in the effort
and care that went into supplying the people who worked to bring these goods to
Rome. Thus, despite being located on the geographical fringe of the Empire, the Eastern
Desert’s sites primary function, namely the provision of prestigious building materials
and eastern goods, lay at the very heart of the Empire, feeding both imperial vanity and
359
elite display. While the soldiers and workmen at these sites undoubtedly experienced
life in the desert as difficult and harsh, neither the physical distance from the Nile
valley, nor the environmental constraints of the desert environment prevented them
from maintaining contact with their families and friends or from eating the types of
foods that they had become accustomed to in other parts of Egypt or the
Mediterranean. Their foodways were an integral part of their identities, and the
changes observed in the archaeobotanical assemblages demonstrate changes in these
identities over time, with a strongly Roman emphasis during the heyday of the Empire
and of the exploitation of the Eastern Desert (later 1st to early 3 rd centuries), more
integration with local Egyptian peoples (both Nile valley and desert nomads) during the
later Roman period, after the political and economic turmoil of the 3rd century, and a
more starkly observed transformation by the medieval Islamic period, when Egypt had
become part of the Islamic world. This highlights that the Eastern Desert was not
remote in any real sense; instead, it was closely linked to and affected by the social,
economic and political fortunes of the Empire and of later political entities. Our results
emphasise the importance of food in the dynamics of geopolitics.
Acknowledgements
45 Marijke Van der Veen and Charlène Bouchaud would like to thank Jean-Pierre Brun and
the Collège de France for inviting them to the conference in Paris where this paper was
presented by the first author. Marijke Van der Veen is grateful to Charlène Bouchaud,
René Cappers and Claire Newton for making available their unpublished data and for
collaborating on this paper. Marijke Van der Veen would like to thank Valerie Maxfield
and David Peacock for inviting her to join their projects in the Eastern Desert, while
Charlène Bouchaud and Claire Newton thank Hélène Cuvigny for inviting them to
participate in the French archaeological missions. Thanks are also due to Wilfried Van
Rengen and Hélène Cuvigny for information regarding unpublished ostraka concerning
vegetable gardens, to both Hélène Cuvigny and Valerie Maxfield for comments on an
earlier draft, to Jacob Morales for the photographs, and to Seán Goddard for drawing up
Figure 1.
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APPENDIX
Appendix 1: Summary information of Eastern Desert

sites with archaeobotanical remains
Abu Sha’ar (AS)
- Late Roman fort on the Red Sea coast, 20km north of modern Hurghada. Occupation:
late 4th-early 5th c. AD. After a period of disuse (length not known) re-occupied by a
small Christian community, length of occupation not known, but possibly going into
the 6th c. AD. Excavations 1987-1991. The archaeobotanical data derive from Late
Roman rubbish dumps and concern mostly hand-picked material, but sampling details
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are not published.

- Archaeology: Sidebotham 1993, 1995, 2011. Archaeobotany: el-Hadidi and Amer 1996,
el-Hadidi and el-Fayoumi 1996, el-Hadidi et al. 1997; Fadl 2013.
Badia (BA)
- A way-station (praesidium) on the route from Qena to the quarries at Mons
Porphyrites, consisting of a fortified settlement with large animal lines, and a well close
by. Chronology: late 1st-5th c. AD. While functioning as a way-station during the early
Roman period, it also formed logistical support for the Mons Porphyrites quarries
during the Late Roman (4th-5th c. AD) period. Excavations: 1994-1998.
- Archaeology: Maxfield and Peacock 2001b, Peacock and Maxfield 2007.
Archaeobotany: Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007. Archaeozoology: Hamilton-Dyer 2007.
Berenike (BE)
- A port on the Red Sea coast, on the far southern border of Egypt. Large settlement,
temple and shrines, as well as storage buildings. Occupation: founded in the Ptolemaic
period (3rd c. BC), heyday during the 1st-2nd centuries AD, a hiatus or at least much
reduced activity during the 3rd century, activities resumed mid-4th-mid-5th c. AD, and
abandoned before the mid-6th c. AD. Excavations 1994-2001, and again more recently.
- Archaeology: Sidebotham 2008, 2011, 2018; Wendrich et al. 2003. Archaeobotany:
Cappers 2006, see also Cappers 2003 and Cappers in Wendrich et al. 2003.
Archaeozoology: Van Neer 1997.
Bir Umm Fawakhir (BF)
- Gold mines and village, just north of the Coptos to Myos Hormos road. Occupation
5th-6th c. AD, though earlier exploitation is known. There was also a way-station
(Persou) during the early Roman period. Excavations: 1992-1999.
- Archaeology: Meyer 2014. Archaeobotany: Smith 2014. Archaeozoology: Ikram 2014.
Didymoi – Kasm al-Menih (DI)
- Way-station (praesidium) on the Coptos to Berenike road. Occupied early 2nd-mid/
late-3rd c. AD (abandonment ca. AD 269/271, Brun 2018. Excavations 1998-2000.
- Archaeology: Cuvigny 2011. Archaeobotany: Tengberg 2011. Archaeozoology:
Leguilloux 2011.
Kainè Latomia/Domitianè – Umm Balad (KL)
- A small quarry and settlement close to Mons Porphyrites and administered from
there. Initially called Domitianè, but renamed Kainè Latomia after Domitian’s fall from
grace. Occupation late 1st-early 2nd c. AD, and again briefly during the mid-2nd c. AD.
Excavations 2002-2003.
- Archaeology: Brun in preparation. Archaeobotany: Newton in preparation,
unpublished report 2005. Archaeozoology: Leguilloux in preparation.
Kusayr - Qusayr al-Qadim (KU)
- Reoccupation of the Roman port at Qusayr al-Qadim (see under Myos Hormos), 8km
north of modern Qusayr. During this time period the port is called Kusayr. Chronology:
main phase of occupation 11th-13th c. AD, but continuing on a more reduced scale
during the 14th-15th c. AD. Excavations: 1999-2003 (and previously 1978-1982, Whitcomb
and Johnson 1979, 1982).
- Archaeology: Peacock and Blue 2006, 2011; see also Blue 2018. For radio-carbon dates,
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see Van der Veen 2011. Archaeobotany: Van der Veen 2011; see also Van der Veen and
Morales 2015, 2017. Archaeozoology: Hamilton-Dyer 2011.
Maximianon – al-Zarqā’ (MA)
- Way-station (praesidium) on the Coptos to Myos Hormos route. Fortified settlement
with well in the centre. Occupation: mid 1st and 2nd c. AD. Excavations 1993-1994.
- Archaeology: Cuvigny 2003 (2 volumes). Archaeobotany: Newton unpublished report
2004. Archaeozoology: Leguilloux 2003.
Mons Claudianus (MC)
- A large quarry complex for the extraction of grey granodiorite, used in major imperial
building projects in Rome, e.g. columns at the Pantheon and Trajan’s Forum, as well as
baths and basins. A fortified settlement, containing accommodation, communal
kitchen, bath house and temple, as well as animal lines, granary and well, and a quarry
field of some 750ha and 130 quarries. Occupation during mid/late 1st-early-3rd c. AD.
Excavations 1987-1993.
- Archaeology: Peacock and Maxfield 1997, Maxfield and Peacock 2001a; Maxfield 2001.
Archaeobotany: Van der Veen 2001, see also Van der Veen 1998 and Van der Veen and
Hamilton-Dyer 1998. Archaeozoology: Hamilton-Dyer 2001.
Mons Porphyrites (MP)
- A major quarry complex for the extraction of purple and (to a much lesser extent)
black porphyry, used in imperial building projects (largely in Rome and
Constantinople), statuary, sarcophagi and basins. Large fort with associated settlement
in the main wâdi, but with additional small, unenclosed settlements (villages) located
near the quarries, as these are located higher up the mountains. Occupation during
early-1st-early-3rd c. AD and again during the 4th-early 5th c. AD. During this later period
most activities were centred on the Lykabettus quarry and village, with links to Badia
(see there). Excavations 1994-1998.
- Archaeology: Maxfield and Peacock 2001b, Peacock and Maxfield 2007.
Archaeobotany: Van der Veen and Tabinor 2007. Archaeozoology: Hamilton-Dyer 2007.
Myos Hormos – Qusayr al-Qadim (MH)
- A port on the Red Sea coast of Egypt, just north of where the Wâdi al-Hammâmât
reaches the coast; the site is today referred to as Qusayr al-Qadim, just 8km north of
modern Qusayr. One of two main ports for the trade with India during the Roman
period. The site is located on an old coral reef just north and east of a now silted
lagoon. Occupied early 1st-early/mid3rd c. AD, though probably founded earlier, during
the Ptolemaic period. Re-occupied during the medieval Islamic period, then known as
Kusayr, see there. Excavations 1999-2003 (and previously 1978-1982, Whitcomb and
Johnson 1979, 1982).
- Archaeology: Peacock and Blue 2006, 2011; see also Blue 2018. Archaeobotany: Van der
Veen 2011; see also Van der Veen and Morales 2015, 2017. Archaeozoology: Hamilton-
Dyer 2011.
Shenshef (SS)
- Large settlement just 21 km south-west of Berenike. Exact function not certain, but
likely a satellite settlement of Berenike. Occupied 5th-6th c. AD. Excavations 1994-2001.
- Archaeology: Sidebotham 2011; Archaeobotany: Cappers 2006, Archaeozoology: Van
Neer and Ervynck 1999.
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Tiberianè – Barud (TI)

- Small quarry and settlement just 10km south-east of Mons Claudianus, and
administered from there. Occupation mid-2nd century AD. Excavations: small trial
excavation in 1992.
- Archaeology: Peacock and Maxfield 1997, Maxfield and Peacock 2001a.
Archaeobotany: Van der Veen 2001. Archaeozoology: Hamilton-Dyer 2001.
Xeron Pelagos, Xeron – Jirf (XE)
- Way-station (praesidium) on the Coptos to Berenike road. Occupation late 1st-mid/
late-3rd century AD (abandonment ca. AD 269/271, Brun 2018). Excavations 2010-2013.
- Archaeology: Brun 2014-2015. Archaeobotany: Bouchaud unpublished; see also
Bouchaud and Redon 2017. Archaeozoology: Leguilloux unpublished.
Appendix 2
List of all plant foods recovered from the Eastern Desert sites discussed in the text
(desiccated and charred remains), and total number of identifications. References:
a. Cappers 2006; b. Van der Veen 2011; c. Van der Veen 2001; d. Van der Veen and
Tabinor 2007; e. Newton in prep.; f. Newton unpublished; g. Bouchaud unpublished;
h. Tengberg 2011; i. Fadl 2013, el-Hadidi and Amer 1996, el-Hadidi and el-Fayoumi 1996,
el-Hadidi et al. 1997; j. Smith 2014. For site name abbreviations, see Table 1, plus:
SS=Shenshef, AS=Abu Sha’ar, BF= Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, and KU= Kusayr.
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FOOTNOTES
1. We cannot completely rule out the possibility that some of the seeds of the cabbage genus
(Brassica spp.) derive from wild cabbage plants growing naturally in the desert, while those of
beet (Beta vulgaris) may derive from the wild form that is a common arable weed. For both,
however, the frequency and contexts of the finds encourage us to regard them as derived from
371
cultivated plants, especially as cabbage and beet are some of the most frequently mentioned
vegetables in the ostraca (in the private letters).
AUTHORS
Marijke Van der Veen

School of Archaeology & Ancient History, University of Leicester, Great Britain
Charlène Bouchaud
ORCID: 0000-0002-1318-027X
Archaeozoology, Archaeobotany: Societies, Practices and Environments (UMR 7209),
Sorbonne Universités, Muséum national d’histoire naturelle, CNRS, Paris, France
René Cappers
Groningen Institute of Archaeology, University of Groningen, The Netherlands
Claire Newton
ORCID: 0000-0003-3791-3906
Laboratory of Archaeology and Patrimony, University of Quebec in Rimouski (Qc),
Canada
372
Fuelwood and Wood Supplies in the

Eastern Desert of Egypt during
Roman Times
Charlène Bouchaud, Claire Newton, Marijke Van der Veen and Caroline
Vermeeren
Introduction
1 Due to the scarcity of resources, fuel and wood supply was a major issue in the Eastern
Desert of Egypt. This scarcity is caused by the hyperarid conditions that started some
6000 years ago, as indicated by paleo-climatic studies, carried out locally in the
mountains of the Red Sea (Butzer 1999; Moeyersons et al. 1999) and west of the Nile
(Bubenzer, Riemer 2007), as well as in the wider region (Hoelzmann et al. 2004; Kuper,
Kröpelin 2006). The woody vegetation of this desert is concentrated mainly along
ephemeral streams, wâdis, or in upland areas. Elsewhere, in the sandy and rocky plains,
we find mostly shrubs rather than trees. Cooking, heating, lighting, reducing and
melting ores, making doors, building roofs, firing bricks, carving tools were daily
activities or at least regularly carried out by the occupants of the desert at different
times, resulting in frequent use of woody resources, either present in the desert or
imported. This was particularly the case in Roman times, during which the Eastern
Desert experienced a peak of exploitation of local resources of minerals, precious
stones and building stones, as well as the development of trade routes between the Nile
valley and the Red Sea. Excavations on various Roman sites in this region, mainly
occupied between the 1st and the 3 rd centuries AD, have provided a substantial corpus
of wood and charcoal found in both domestic and craft contexts. These elements
provide a unique opportunity to study the wide variety of uses of woody materials and
the role of economic and environmental factors in their use and distribution.
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The data
Study of wood and charcoal
2 The present work is based on the analysis of raw archaeobotanical data, that is the
remains of charcoal and wood found in a variety of archaeological contexts at a range
of sites. In French, such studies are usually called “anthracologie” and “xylologie”,1
corresponding to the English words “anthracology” and “xylology”, though the terms
“charcoal analysis” and “wood studies” are more commonly used in English.
3 In the Eastern Desert, as in many other regions, charcoal is among the most frequently
found items on archaeological sites when the sediments from domestic levels, craft
structures or fire layers are finely sieved.2 The hyperaridity of the region has also
allowed the remarkable conservation of wooden elements, which are organic materials
generally more vulnerable to insects and biological decomposition. Preservation of the
wood varies across sites and contexts, dependent of local levels of humidity. Generally,
humidity levels are very low and preservation good.
4 The joint study of wood and charcoal answers various questions illustrating the
diversity of the relationships between man and tree. The first aspect is of a utilitarian
nature and makes it possible to understand how these remains were used. The study of
wood includes an important technical dimension related to the manufacture of the
objects and their use (see the studies of C. Vermeeren at Berenike and J. Whitewright at
Myos Hormos, references below). Charcoal is mainly used to understand the
management of fuel in domestic and artisanal contexts (Théry-Parisot et al., 2010).
Identifying the botanical taxon of each item allows us to study the origin and supply of
these woody resources.
5 The identification is carried out by microscopic examination of the fragments in
reflected light for charcoal and certain woods, and in transmitted light for thin-section
wood samples. The anatomy (the number and distribution of vessels, the width of the
rays, the types of intervascular structures, etc.) is observed on three planes (cross-
section, tangential and radial, Fig. 1) and is compared with descriptions from atlases
(Fahn et al., 1986; Neumann 1989; Schweingruber 1990; Neumann et al., 2001) and
modern reference collections, such as those of research centres in particular the IFAO
(Institut français d'archéologie orientale) Archeometry Laboratory.3 The proposed
identification is made according to different taxonomic ranks4 depending on the
preservation and the size of the observed fragment and the diagnostic value of these
anatomical features. Thus, the least identifiable elements are simply classified, as
either angiosperms (flowering plants) or gymnosperms (including conifers). Some can
only be grouped under a family name. For example the family of Chenopodiaceae5
includes several shrub species which are difficult to separate from the observed
anatomical criteria alone. Many taxa can, fortunately, be identified to genus level, such
as acacias (Acacia spp.)6 or some pines (Pinus sp.). A few taxa can be identified down to
species level, such as wild caper (Capparis spinosa), or group of species, such as a group
of acacias characteristic of desert areas, Acacia tortilis / etbaica.
Fig. 1
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Examples of anatomical sections of acacia charcoal from Xeron Pelagos,

Roman period (1st-3rd c. AD). Left: cross-section, right: longitudinal
tangential section. Anatomical observation of these allows us to identify
a group of Acacia species, including: Acacia tortilis, A. ehrenbergiana,
A. etbaica.
© C. Bouchaud
6 We deduce the provenance of the pieces from the ecological growth requirements of
the plant (or plants) and from the historical data associated with their diffusion.
Different floras are thus used, such as Egyptian (Boulos 1999, 2000, 2002, 2005), but also
Middle-Eastern / Mediterranean (Zohary 1966, 1972; Feinbrun-Dothan 1978, 1986) and
European (Ellenberg 1988).
State of the art in the Eastern Desert of Egypt
7 Wood and charcoal studies of Roman sites in the Egyptian Eastern Desert are less
numerous than those conducted on seed and fruit remains (see Van der Veen et al.
2018). This is partly due to technical contingencies, linked to the obligation to study
this material during the archaeological excavations or later at a location where the
material has been stored. Unlike seed and fruit studies carried out using a
stereomicroscope, the microscopic observation equipment used for analysing wood and
charcoal is heavier, expensive and fragile, which implies more complicated logistics,
difficult to implement on an excavation site or in an archaeological storeroom. Some
laboratories in Cairo, in particular that of the IFAO, are equipped with transmitted and
reflected light microscopes. When the samples can be exported to Cairo, post-
excavation studies are possible.
8 Despite these practical difficulties, wood and/or charcoal samples from eleven
excavation projects have been studied (Table 1, Fig. 2). Their chronological distribution
naturally reflects that of the excavated sites. The Roman period (late 1st century BC-
3rd century AD) is the best represented. These sites include the two main ports of the
Red Sea, Berenike (Vermeeren 1998, 1999a, 1999b, 2000a, 2000b) and Myos Hormos
(Thomas, Whitewright 2001; Whitewright 2007; Blue et al. 2011), the quarries of Kainè
Latomia (originally called Domitianè, but renamed Kainè Latomia after the death of
Domitian, now called Umm Balad) (Newton unpublished), of Mons Claudianus (Van der
Veen 2001) and of Mons Porphyrites (Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007), and three way-
stations, Badia (Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007), Didymoi (Tengberg 2011) and Xeron
Pelagos (Bouchaud, Redon 2017; Bouchaud unpublished). Only the site of Samut offer
375
data from the Ptolemaic period (Bouchaud forthcoming). Some samples of wood and
charcoal dated to Late Antiquity (4th-7th century) have been collected in the worker’s
village of Lykabettus near the site of Porphyrites (Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007) and in
the coastal site of Abu Sha'ar (Fadl 2013). Finally, wood and charcoal from the Islamic
layers (11th-15th century) at the old Roman port Myos Hormos, which was re-occupied
under the name Kusayr, were also studied (Hiebert 1991; Thomas, Whitewright 2001,
Whitewright 2007; Blue et al. 2011; Van der Veen et al. 2011; Whitewright 2011). As the
data for the Ptolemaic, Byzantine and Islamic periods are scarce, we concentrate here
on the Roman period. Note that some wood and charcoal materials from Berenike could
actually belong to earlier (3rd-2nd century BC) or later (4th-5th century AD) layers (pers.
comm., Steve Sidebotham): the information available from published studies
(Vermeeren, 1998, 1999a, 1999b, 2000a, 2000b) does not accurately separate earlier and
later material from the Roman samples (1st-3rd century AD). Thus the Berenike data
presented here combines all periods.
Table 1
SITE PERIOD FUNCTION BIBLIOGRAPHY MATERIALS
Rom- Wood
Port Van der Veen et al. 2011
Islam Charcoal
Myos Hormos /Kusayr
Blue et al . 2011 ; Hiebert 1991;
Qusayr al-Qadim
Rom- Thomas 2011; Thomas &
Port Wood
Islam Whitewright 2001; Whitewright
2007, 2011
Berenike Vermeeren 1998, 1999a, 1999b, Wood

Rom Port
(+Kalalat+Shenshef) 2000a, 2000b Charcoal
Wood
Abu Sha’ar Byz Port Fadl 2013
Charcoal
Van der Veen 2001; Van der Veen &

Charcoal
Mons Claudianus (+ Quarry and Tabinor 2007
Rom
Barud I + Hydreuma) way-stations
Hamilton-Dyer & Goddard 2001 Wood
Quarry and
Mons Porphyrites + Rom-
satellite Van der Veen & Tabinor 2007 Charcoal
Badia (+ Lykabettus) Byz
forts
Domitianè / Kainè
Rom Quarry Newton unpublished Charcoal
Latomia
Didymoi Rom Way-station Tengberg 2011 Wood
Samut (Bi’r Samut + Ptol- Gold mine Wood

Bouchaud forthcoming
Samut North) Rom and fort Charcoal
376
Bouchaud unpublished; Bouchaud & Wood

Xeron Pelagos Rom Way-station
Redon 2017 Charcoal
Wood (uncharred) and charcoal (charred wood) identifications from the Egyptian Eastern Desert on
samples from the Ptolemaic period (Ptol: 4th-1st century. BC), the Roman period (Rom: end 1st century
BC – 3rd century AD), the Byzantine period, or Late Antiquity (Byz: 4th-5th century AD) and the Islamic
period (Islam: 11th-15th century AD).
Fig. 2
Location of sites (in red) for which wood and/or charcoal identifications
are available in the Eastern Desert. See table 1 for details. Background
map: Jean-Pierre Brun.
Selection and quantification of samples
9 This synthesis is based on a selection of materials studied and presented in various

publications and in unpublished works (Tables 2 and 3). Specimens poorly dated
(except those from Berenike, see above), indeterminate fragments and imprecise
determinations (e.g. angiosperms, gymnosperms, monocotyledons) have been ignored.
Unclear identifications –at the family level or indicated by the addition of “cf.” before
the scientific name (Tables 2 and 3)– were retained to illustrate the potential diversity
of these taxa.7 Finally, among the wood specimens, only the worked elements were
studied.
Table 2
MH BE DI XE
377
Nb
112 252 33 11
samples
Nb items 113 295 33 11
Nb taxa 26 20 5 5
TAXON CODE ORIGINE
Abies sp. Fir Sapin ABIE MEDEUR 1 1
Acacia tortilis/ Acacia du

Desert acacia ACTO LOC 75 6 7
etbaica type désert
Acacia sp.
Acacia tree Acacia ACAC LOC 9
+ cf. Acacia sp.
Alnus sp. Alder Aulne ALNU MEDEUR 1
Avicennia sp. Grey

Palétuvier gris AVIC LOC 13
+ cf. Avicennia sp. mangrove
Baikiaea/Pterocarpus BAIPTE TROP 3
Bambusa sp. Bamboo Bambou BAMB TROP 3
Buxus sp.
Boxwood Buis BUXU MEDEUR 9
+ cf.Buxus sp.
Cordia sp. Sebesten Sébestier CORD LOC 1
African
Dalbergia sp. ebony, Ébène du
DALB TROP 17
+ cf. Dalbergia sp. African Mozambique
blackwood
Diospyros sp. Ebony Ébène DIOS TROP 1
Fagus sylvatica Beech Hêtre FAGSYL MEDEUR 1
Ficus sp. + cf. Ficus sp. Fig tree Figuier FICU LOC 3
Fraxinus sp.
Ash Frêne FRAX MEDEUR 2 1
+ cf. Fraxinus sp.
Juglans regia
Walnut tree Noyer JUGREG MEDEUR 1 1
+ cf. Juglans regia
Juniperus / Cupressus JUNCUP MEDEUR 1 1
378
Larix/Picea Larche/
Mélèze/épicéa LARPIC MEDEUR 1
+ cf. Larix/Picea spruce
Leptadenia pyrotechica +
LEPPYR LOC 22 1
Leptadenia sp.
cf. Maloideae MALO NIL 1
cf. Moraceae MORA LOC 2
cf. Olea sp. Olive tree Olivier OLEA NIL 1
Palmae + cf. Palmae Palm tree Palmier PALM LOC 6 1
Pinus sp. Pine Pin PINU MEDEUR 1 3
Stone/
Pin parasol/
Pinus pinea/pinaster maritime PIPIPIN MEDEUR 1 26
maritime
pine
Scots/black Pin sylvestre/

Pinus sylvestris/nigra PISYNI MEDEUR 9
pine noir
Deciduous
Quercus sp. Chêne à f. caduc QUEDEC MEDEUR 6 3
oak
Evergreen Chêne à f.
Quercus sp. QUEEVE MEDEUR 8
oak sempervirent
Quercus suber Cork oak Chêne liège QUESUB MEDEUR 1
Rhamnus/Phyllirea RHAM MEDEUR 2
Rhizophora type True

Palétuvier rouge RHIZ LOC 1 3
+ cf.Rhizophora sp. mangrove
cf. Saccharum sp. SACC TROP 1
Salix sp. Willow Saule SALI NIL 1 2
Tamarix sp.
Tamarisk Tamaris TAMA LOC 18 4 3 1
+ cf. Tamarix sp.
Tectona grandis
Teak Teck TECGRA TROP 12 145
+ cf. Tectona grandis
Ulmus sp. Elm Orme ULMU MEDEUR 4 2
Viburnum sp. Viorne VIBU MEDEUR 1
cf. Wrightia sp. WRIG TROP 1
379
cf. Ziziphus sp. Jujubier ZIZI LOC 1
Results from the identification of wooden artefacts. Presentation of the selected samples and list of
identified taxa on the Roman sites of the Egyptian Eastern Desert. For each taxon, the scientific and
vernacular names, code and assumed geographic origin used in the figures are detailed. The numbers
in the table describe the number of samples in which the taxon was identified. MH= Myos Hormos
(Van der Veen et al. 2011); BE= Berenike (Vermeeren 1998; 1999a; 1999b; 2000a; 2000b); DI= Didymoi
(Tengberg 2011); XE= Xeron Pelagos (Bouchaud unpublished, Bouchaud & Redon 2017; LOC= local;
NIL= Nile valley and Western oasis; MEDEUR= Mediterranean and European/continental regions;
TROP= Tropical India and/or Africa.
Table 3
MH BE MC MP KL BA XE
N samples 34 20 18 10 4 3 6
N
625 ? 194 270 1117 104 338
fragments
N taxa 29 10 14 19 13 7 14
TAXON CODE ORIGINE
Acacia sp.
Acacia Acacia tree ACAC LOC 9 15 1 4 2
+ cf. Acacia sp.
Acacia albida
Faidher White
(Fadherbia ACAL NIL 1 1
bier acacia
albida)
Acacia du Nile acacia

Acacia nilotica ACNI NIL 1 14 9 2
Nil tree
Acacia tortilis / Acacia du Desert

ACTO LOC 8 3 6 7 3
etbaica type désert acacia
cf. Aerva sp. AERV LOC 2
Arundo /
Roseau Reed ARPHR NIL 1
Phragmites
Artemisia sp. Armoise Mugwort ART LOC 1
Avicennia sp. Palétuvier Grey

AVIC LOC 29 17
+ cf. Avicennia sp. gris mangrove
Boscia sp. BOSC LOC 2
Brassicaceae BRASS LOC 1 2 1
CALL LOC 3 2
380
Calligonum
comosum
+ cf. Calligonum sp.
Pommier
cf. Calotropis Sodom
de CALPROC LOC 1
procera apple
Sodome
Capparis decidua
+ cf. Capparis Câprier Caperbush CAPDEC LOC 2 2
decidua
Capparis sp.
Câprier Caperbush CAPP LOC 1 1
+ cf. Capparaceae
Capparis spinosa
+ cf. Capparis Câprier Caperbush CAPSPI LOC 1
spinosa
Chenopodiaceae CHENO LOC 5 4
Chrozophora sp. CHROZO LOC 1
Cornulaca type CORN LOC 1
Cupressus sp.
Cyprès Cypress CUPR MEDEUR 1 1 1
+ cf. Cupressus sp.
African
Ebène du
Dalbergia sp. ebony,
Mozam- DALB TROP 1
+ cf. Dalbergia sp. bique African
blackwood
Diplotaxis harra DIPHAR LOC 1
cf.
DIPTE TROP 2
Dipterocarpaceae
Fabaceae FABA LOC 1 2 1 3
Ficus sp.
Figuier Fig tree FICU LOC 1 1
+ cf. Ficus sp.
Frankenia sp. FRAN LOC 1
Fraxinus sp.
Frêne Ash FRAX MEDEUR 1
+ cf. Fraxinus sp.
Grewia sp. GREW LOC 1
Juncus sp. Jonc Rush JUNC NIL 1
381
Juniperus /
JUNCUP MEDEUR 1
Cupressus
Juniperus sp. Genévrier Juniper JUNI MEDEUR 1
Larix / Picea Mélèze/ Larche/

LARPIC MEDEUR 2
+ cf. Larix / Picea épicéa spruce
Leptadenia
pyrotechnica LEPPYR LOC 4 6 7 1 1 1
+ Leptadenia sp.
Desert
Lycium shawii LYCSHA LOC 1
thorn
Maerua sp.
MAECRA LOC 2
+ cf. Maerua sp.
Mimusops sp. Perséa Persea MIMU NIL 1
cf. Moraceae MORA LOC 1
Arbre à
Moringa peregrina huile de Bentree MORPER LOC 1 3 7 2 1
Ben
Palmae+cf. Palmae Palmier Palm tree PALM LOC 3 3
cf. Periploca PERIP LOC 1
Pin Stone/
Pinus pinea /
parasol/ maritime PIPIPIN MEDEUR 16 11
pinaster
maritime pine
Pin
Pinus sylvestris / Scots/
sylvestre/ PISYNI MEDEUR 13 1
nigra black pine
noir
Pinus sp. Pin Pine PINU MEDEUR 8
cf. Prosopis sp. PROS NIL 3 1
Chêne à f. Deciduous
Quercus sp. QUEDEC MEDEUR 5 1 2
caduc oak
Chêne à f.
Evergreen
Quercus sp. semper- QUEEVE MEDEUR 2
oak
virent
Rhizophora type Palétuvier True

RHIZ LOC 4 7
+ cf. Rhizophora rouge mangrove
382
Toothbrush
Salvadora persica SALPER LOC 1 3
tree
Saltwort/
Salsola / Suaeda Soude SALSUA LOC 10 10 1
sea blite
cf. Senna italica Senné Senna SENITA LOC 2
Tamarix sp.
Tamaris Tamarisk TAMA LOC 23 5 1 1 3
+ cf. Tamarix sp.
Tectona grandis
+ cf. Tectona Teck Teak TECGRA TROP 11 12
grandis
Ulmus sp. Orme Elm ULMU MEDEUR 13 3
cf. Zilla spinosa ZILSPI LOC 1
Ziziphus sp.
Jujubier Jujube tree ZIZI LOC 6 1 1
+ cf. Ziziphus sp.
Results from the identification of charcoal. Presentation of selected samples and list of taxa identified
on Roman sites in the Egyptian Eastern Desert. For each taxon, the scientific and vernacular names,
code and assumed geographic origin used in the figures are detailed. The numbers in the table
describe the number of samples in which the taxon was identified. MH= Myos Hormos (Van der Veen
et al. 2011); BE= Berenike (Vermeeren 1998; 1999a; 1999b; 2000a; 2000b); MC= Mons Claudianus (Van
der Veen 2001; Van der Veen & Tabinor 2007); MP= Mons Porphyrites (Van der Veen & Tabinor 2007);
KL= Domitianè/Kainè Latomia (Newton unpublished); BA= Badia (Van der Veen & Tabinor 2007); XE=
Xeron Pelagos (Bouchaud unpublished, Bouchaud & Redon 2017); LOC= local; NIL= Nile valley and
Western oasis; MEDEUR= Mediterranean and European/continental regions; TROP= Tropical India and/
or Africa.
10 The corpus of wooden artefacts is based on the study of four sites –Berenike, Myos
Hormos, Didymoi and Xeron Pelagos. The largest assemblages come from the two ports
of the Red Sea. The woods of Didymoi are presented but not discussed, their function
being, for the most part, unknown (Tengberg 2011). The wooden elements found at
Xeron Pelagos are few, partly due to local, slightly damp, conditions. Wood elements,
complete or fragmented, are recorded by number of samples. Generally a wood sample
correspond to one artefact, but in some cases (especially at Berenike), one sample
corresponds to several artefacts grouped together. Note that the Mons Claudianus
quarry site also presents a corpus of everyday wooden objects, but the wood taxa of
these objects have not been identified (Hamilton-Dyer, Goddard 2001).
11 Charcoal was studied from seven Roman sites.8 The samples were obtained from hand-
picked or sediment sampling (sieving), though the volume sieved is not always known.
Most of the time, a sample corresponds to a stratigraphic unit and contains a
heterogeneous number of charcoal fragments. In Berenike, the only archaeological
level recorded is that of the structure, and the number of fragments is only estimated.
12 A total of 408 samples of wood, comprising 452 artefacts (Table 2), and 95 samples of
charcoal, representing at least 2,648 fragments (Table 3),9 are considered for this study.
This selection corresponds to 71 taxa identified at the level of family, genus or species.
383
Forty taxa are preserved in desiccated form. Fifty-four taxa are represented as
charcoal. Of these, 23 taxa are found both in the form of desiccated wood and charcoal.
Each taxon is associated with a geographical origin according to four regions of
provenance. Local (LOC) taxa are those that can grow in the desert –including the
mountainous area of Gebel Elba– and the Red Sea coastline. The Nilotic and oasis group
(NIL) refers to plants from the Nile valley and/or from the oases of the Western Desert.
Mediterranean and European/continental taxa are referred to under the same name
(MEDEUR). Tropical and sub-tropical plants (TROP), most of which can grow in Asia and
Africa, form the fourth group. When a taxon falls into two categories –such as reed
(Arundo / Phragmites) and tamarisk, which may belong to the group of local (coast of the
Red Sea) or Nilotic plants, the closest geographically group has been chosen. These
decisions, while aiming to simplify the reading and processing of the data, distort a
reality which is probably more complex than that illustrated by the descriptions which
follow.
13 Despite the heterogeneity of data from one site to another, a first synthesis can be
carried out by using a semi-quantitative presentation of the results.
Uses
14 The presence of worked wood and charcoal on archaeological sites evokes various
sectors of activity. Desiccated (uncharred) wooden artefacts include everyday objects,
architectural timbers, maritime equipment (shipbuilding and objects connected with
ships or fishing) and waste from cutting or shaping. Charcoal has been found in
domestic (fireplaces, hearth refuse, ovens, domestic refuse deposits) and artisanal
contexts, mainly related to metallurgical activities. Charring of wood thus results, a
priori, from its use as fuel.
Woodworking
15 Uncharred worked wood elements found at Myos Hormos, Berenike and Xeron Pelagos
can be separated into various major functional categories10 (Table 4, Fig. 3-5).
Table 4
Category Identified items Eléments identifiés MH BE XE
Domestic Firelighter Allume-feu LEPYR 1

objects
Tool indet. Outil indet. ACTO 1
Tube Tube ACTO 1
FRAX 1 ACTO 1
Handle Manche
ZIZI 1 VIBU 1
Brush Brosse ACTO 1
Needle Aiguille PIPIPIN 1
384
LARPIC 1
Basket Panier
RHIZ 1
DALB 1 ACTO 1
Bowl Bol FRAX 1 TECGRA 1
TAMA 2 QUEDUC 1
Cup Coupe ACTO 1
ACAC 2
FICU 2
ACTO 6
MORA 1
AVIC 2
PISYNI 1
Bung / lid / Bonde / couvercle / BAIPTE 2
QUEDEC 1
amphora stopper bouchon d’amphore RHIZ 1
QUEEVE 1
QUESUB 1
SALI 1
TECGRA 2
TAMA 3
TECGRA 1
Knob Bouton ACTO 2
Box Boite TECGRA 1
JUNCUP 1
Gorges Hameçon TAMA 1
TECGRA 1
Key Clé QUEDUC 1
Pen Stylet ACTO 2 ACTO 1
Stick Bâton ACTO 1
DALB 1
PISYNI 3
Spatula Spatule TAMA 1
TECGRA 1
ULMU 2
FICU 1
Spoon Cuillère
PISYNI 1
BUXU 1
Vessel Vaisselle
TAMA 3
Ring Bague TECGRA 3
ACTO 1
Ornament indet. Ornement indet
BAIPTE 1
385
Bracelet Bracelet ACTO 1
BUXU 8
Comb Peigne DIOS 1
RHAM 2
Wedge Coin TECGRA 1
ACTO 3
ACTO 3
FRAX 1
JUGREG
PINU 3
Plank, board Planche 1
PIPIPIN 16
JUNI 1
QUEDEC 1
TAMA 1
TECGRA 32
BAMB 1
Architecture
Pole, beam Poteau, poutre PIPIPIN 4 ACTO 2
TECGRA 6
ABIE 1
ACAC 2 ACTO 7
DALB 1 CORD 1
Pin, peg Tenon QUEDEC 2 PALM 3
TAMA 2 PIPIPIN 2
TECGRA 7 RHIZ 1
TECGRA 14
DALB 11
OLEA 1
Brail ring Anneau de cargue MALO 1 TECGRA 3
TAMA 1
WRIG 1
Deadeye Cap de mouton DALB 1
Maritime Tapered hole Mortaise biseautée TECGRA 1
Pulley Poulie TECGRA 1
ALNU 1
Sheave Réa DALB 2
TECGRA 1
Cleat Taquet QUEDUC 1
ACAC 5 ACTO 31
Wood Wood chips / Fragment de débitage /
shavings shavings copeau JUGREG 1 AVIC 6
386
MORA 1
BAMB 2
PINU 1
PIPIPIN 1
PIPIPIN 1
QUEDEC 1
PISYNI 4
RHIZ 1
QUEEVE 7
TECRA 48
TAMA 2
ULMU 2
ULMU 2
ACTO 14
AVIC 5
PALM 2
Worked wood Elément travaillé TAMA 1 PIPIPIN 2
Other
SACC 1
TAMA 2
TECGRA 33
Disc Disque TECGRA 2
Functional category of wooden artefacts found in Myos Hormos (MH), Berenike (BE) and Xeron
Pelagos (XE) (1st-3rd c. AD). The identified items are presented using the names used in the original
publications (in French or in English). For each functional type, the last three columns indicate for each
site the types of wood used followed by the corresponding number of artefacts.
Fig. 3
Examples of domestic wooden objects from the Roman period.

A. Amphora stopper, Rhodesian teak/pterocarpus type (Baikiaea/
Pterocarpus), Berenike (BE98-21 PB 045, after Fig. 7 in Vermeeren 2000a, ©
Sidebotham & Wendrich 2000, photograph: Z. Kosc); B. Boxwood comb
(Buxus sp.), Myos Hormos (W284, after Fig. 5.6 in Van der Veen 2011,
p. 216, © Van der Veen 2011, photograph: W. van Rengen); C. Firelighter,
Leptadenia pyrotechnica, Xeron Pelagos, (US 40510/Po220, © A. Bülow-
Jacobsen, French mission in the Eastern Desert); D. Pen, acacia (Acacia
387
sp.), Xeron Pelagos (US 40520/n°IFAO 5154, © G. Pollin, French mission in

the Eastern Desert /IFAO).
© Z. Kosc, W. van Rengen, A.Bulow-Jacobsen, G. Pollin
Fig. 4
Architectural wooden elements from the Roman period. A. Teakwood

(Tectona grandis) board with iron nail (left), cross lath (hole on the right)
and layer of pitch or tar, also seen as re-used maritime element Berenike
(after Fig. 14 in Vermeeren 2000a, photograph: C. Vermeeren,
© Vermeeren 2000); B. Juniper (Juniperus sp.) plank, Xeron Pelagos (US
60608/Po2015 B, © A. Bülow-Jacobsen, French mission in the Eastern
Desert).
© C. Vermeeren, A. Bülow-Jacobsen
Fig. 5
388
Roman maritime artefacts: A. Roughly cut ring made of teakwood

(Tectona grandis), possibly a brail ring, Berenike (BE98-21.032 PB 042,
after Fig. 9 in Vermeeren 2000a, © Sidebotham & Wendrich 2000,
photograph: Z. Kosc); B. Teak (Tectona grandis) object with tapered hole,
used to block a rope, Berenike (BE98-21.027 PB 033, after Fig. 8a in
Vermeeren 2000a, © Sidebotham & Wendrich 2000, photographie: Z.
Kosc); C. Brail ring made of African ebony (Dalbergia sp.), Myos Hormos
(W072, after Fig. 5.1 in Van der Veen 2011, p. 208, © Van der Veen 2011,
photograph: W. van Rengen); D. Dead-eye made of African ebony
(Dalbergia sp.), Myos Hormos (W294, after Fig. 5.1 in Van der Veen 2011,
p. 208, © Van der Veen 2011, photograph: W. van Rengen).
© Z. Kosc, W. van Rengen
Everyday objects
16 Everyday objects comprise the first, very heterogeneous, group of wooden artefacts
(Fig. 3). Their numbers vary from one site to another. Three objects have been found in
Xeron Pelagos, while Myos Hormos and Berenike have respectively 39 and 49 artefacts,
representing a total of 27 types of objects whose function is more or less well
recognized. There are fragments of tableware (bowl, spoon, spatula), tools (firelight,
hook, handle), elements associated with storage and transport (stopper and lid, box),
ornaments and hair accessories (bracelet, comb, ring), keys, styli, etc. The
heterogeneity of these objects corresponds to analogous heterogeneity of the wood
taxa. The large sample of wood used for amphora stoppers found at Berenike (N=14)
and Myos Hormos (N=13) includes a first group of woods characteristic of the desert
regions, which can grow locally or in the Nile valley, acacia, tamarisk and mangrove.
Acacias (ACTO, ACTA)11 can include several species with anatomical features too similar
389
to be distinguished by microscopic observations. The most common acacias of the

Eastern Desert are trees up to several metres high, Acacia tortilis subsp. raddiana (sayyal)
and Acacia tortilis subsp. tortilis (samur), and shrubs, Acacia ehrenbergiana (salam) and
Acacia etbaica ('arad) (Mahmoud 2010, pp. 27-30) (Fig. 6).
Fig. 6
A. Forest gallery of acacia trees (Acacia tortilis subsp. raddiana) along the
wâdi Abu wasil (Photograph: C. Bouchaud). B. Acacia ehrenbergiana near
Xeron Pelagos (al-Jirf) (Photograph: C. Bouchaud). C. Mangrove (Avicennia
marina) growing on the Red Sea coast, south of Qusayr al-Qadim (after
Fig. 5.15 in Van der Veen 2011, p. 222, © Van der Veen 2011, photograph:
M. van der Veen). D. Sea-blite (Suaeda monoica), near Berenike
(Photograph: C. Vermeeren).
© C. Bouchaud, M. van der Veen, C. Vermeeren
17 The genus Tamarix sp. (TAMA) comprises six species that can grow in Egypt in form of
trees or shrubs, the two most common are Tamarix aphylla (itl) and Tamarix nilotica
(turfa). Both grow either in the desert, on the edge of wâdis, in the sandy plains and
saline soils, or in the Nile Valley (Boulos 2000, pp. 126-129). The grey mangrove
Avicennia marina (AVIC shura manjaruf) and the red mangrove, Rhizophora mucronata
(RHIZ) are typical of mangrove formations (Fig. 6) growing on the shores of the Red Sea
(Boulos 2000, pp. 148-149, 2002, pp. 5-6, Schneider 2011). Some amphora stoppers are
made of Mediterranean wood such as bark from cork oak, Quercus suber (QUESUB) and
other deciduous (QUEDUC) and evergreen (QUEEVE) oaks. Finally more exotic taxa were
also identified, including teak from India, Tectona grandis (TECGRA), known as hard,
durable wood, and Baikiaea / Pterocarpus (BAIPTE) indicating an African or Indian origin
(Vermeeren 1998 2000b; Van der Veen et al., 2011, p. 207).
18 The taxa used for tableware –bowls, spatulas, spoons, undetermined containers–
especially present at Myos Hormos, also show this great diversity. The wood of
tamarisk and fig tree, Ficus sp. (FICU), suggests manufacturing locally or in the Nile
valley. Fig wood has been arbitrarily classified in the local taxa group because wild fig,
Ficus palmata (hummat, tin barri) can grow on rocky slopes and along the wâdis of the
390
desert. However, the genus Ficus sp. can also refer to the common fig tree, Ficus carica,
growing in the Nile valley and having a similar anatomy. The identification of sycamore
fig, Ficus sycomorus can be excluded because it has other distinctive anatomic features.
The tableware also includes several objects made of wood that cannot grow in Egypt,
and, thus, were imported from Mediterranean regions and/or continental Europe, such
as Scots/black pine group, Pinus sylvestris/nigra (PISYNI), ash, Fraxinus sp. (FRAXI) or
elm, Ulmus sp. (ULMU) –or the Indian subcontinent, such as teak.
Domestic architecture
19 Domestic building elements, boards, poles, wedges, tenons have also been identified
from Myos Hormos, Berenike and Xeron Pelagos (Fig. 4). Most were found in
destruction or rubbish levels, thus limiting our understanding of their function. The
absence of technical study prevents us to know the exact nature and shape of these
building elements, or to restore their exact place within the architecture. Nevertheless,
some indirect evidence, such as door lintels, sockets and empty spaces, nevertheless
suggests the almost systematic presence of wooden doors and roofing (see, for example,
the architectural descriptions of the forts in Cuvigny 2003). Once again, the main taxa
used show a large diversity dominated by local wood, especially acacia, Mediterranean
wood, such as pine or juniper, Juniperus sp. (JUNI), which can come from the Sinai
Peninsula (Boulos 1999, Zahran, Willis 2009) and Indian woods, especially teak. A pin
fragment found at Berenike corresponds to one of the two occurrences of fir, Abies spp.
(ABIE), the second comes from an unknown object found at Didymoi (Table 2). Fir,
although growing in high-altitude areas of some Mediterranean regions, may also be
imported from farther afield, from temperate Eurasian regions or Anatolia. At
Berenike, several fragments of teak planks have a curved shape as well as iron nails,
cross lathes and layer of pitch or tar that do not find any logical architectural
explanation. These have been interpreted as reused boat hull planks (Vermeeren 2000b,
pp. 340-341). It is, therefore, probable that all the teak fragments, such as the tenons
found at Myos Hormos, correspond to material originally used in maritime equipment
contexts.
Maritime equipment
20 These latter elements in teak can possibly be integrated into the third category of
wooden artefacts which groups objects whose maritime function is clearly identified.
They are only found on the two ports of Myos Hormos and Berenike. Multiple examples
of brail-rings (Fig. 5) have been identified on both sites (16 at Myos Hormos, 2 at
Berenike),12 including one from Myos Hormos found with a fragment of sail still
attached to it. On this site, pulley wheels or sheaves, deadeye (Fig. 5) and cleats were
also identified (Vermeeren 2000b, p. 332; Whitewright 2007; Van der Veen et al., 2011,
p. 206.). This sailing equipment is mostly made of teak wood, tamarisk, and possibly
African ebony, Dalbergia melanoxylon. Indeed, the structure and the very dark colour of
objects made of Dalbergia sp. (DALB) found at Myos Hormos could indicate that they
were made of African ebony, which is distinct from the more commonly known black
ebony, Diospyros ebenum, native to India. African ebony, a native of sub-Saharan dry
savannah is attested in Egypt from the Middle Kingdom onwards (Delange 1987, p. 129)
and regularly used during the New Kingdom for making furniture and sculpture (Gale
et al. 2000, pp. 339-340). These wooden elements, together with the actual remains of
391
sails, linen and cotton, found in abundance on both sites (Wild, Wild 2001; Handley
2004; Wild, Wild 2014) attest the presence of merchant ships, which crossed the Red Sea
and the Indian Ocean (Whitewright 2007; Blue et al., 2011). The origin of these ships,
either Mediterranean, local or Indian, is an issue still widely debated (see below).
Wood shavings and chips
21 A final group includes shavings and chips. These remains found at Myos Hormos (N=24)
and Berenike (N=55) include a large number of taxa at both sites. The acacia, the
evergreen oak, and the Scots/black pine group dominate at Myos Hormos (Van der
Veen 2011, p. 207) while acacia and teak are the best represented taxa in Berenike
(Vermeeren 1998, 1999b, 2000b). Among them, the local wood fragments (acacia,
tamarisk, mangrove) probably illustrate the shaping of wooden trunks and branches
available nearby, while the abundant presence of teak wood wastes indicates, like the
boards mentioned above, probable re-use and cuttings of pieces of boats and furniture
made of Indian wood (Vermeeren 2000b, p. 335).
Fuel
22 The presence of charcoal in the soil layers and dumping areas shows its use as fuel in
domestic activities for heating, cooking, lighting, etc. Some specific contexts also attest
the use of fuel for metalworking and pottery firing (see below). These charcoal
assemblages come mainly from secondary deposits (waste from the fireplace, dumps,
etc.) and can result from one or more combustion events occurring over time, which
are not necessarily of the same nature. Alongside these fuel remains, the presence of
accidentally burnt timber (fire) cannot be ruled out. Nevertheless, no clear context of
burnt structures has been the subject of an anthracological study to date.
Local gathering
23 The vast majority of the fuel, all contexts and sites combined (7 sites), corresponds to
taxa that can grow in the immediate vicinity of the sites (Table 3, Fig. 7). Acacia
charcoal is identified at all sites, highlighting the major economic role of acacia trees as
timber (see above) and fuel (Fagg, Stewart 1994; Le Floc'h, Grouzis 2003). Several desert
taxa are present on at least three of the seven sites: the tamarisk, which can
correspond to several tree and shrub species (see above); the Chenopodiaceae (CHENO
containing the genus, Salsola and Suaeda, SALSUA), which includes a large number of
tree and shrub species, growing along wâdis, sandy and rocky plains or on saline soils
(Mahmoud 2010) including sea-blite (Fig. 6); and the bentree, Moringa peregrina
(MORPER, maya), whose current distribution is reduced to areas above 700 meters
(Mahmoud 2010: 99). The shrubs Leptadenia pyrotechnica (LEPPYR, markh) and Ziziphus
sp. (ZIZI) –which probably correspond to the Christ’ thorn tree, Ziziphus spina-christi
(nabq, sidr)13– also are part of the major taxa. Mangrove taxa, in particular grey
mangrove, are only present on coastal sites, where they represent a significant
proportion of the charcoal remains.
Fig. 7
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Occurrence of the most common woody taxa at each site, wood in yellow,
charcoal in grey, grouped by site and geographical affinity, following the
data presented in tables 2 and 3. Each bar represents the number of
samples in which a taxon has been identified. Only taxa attested on at
least two sites or in at least five samples, as either charred or uncharred
wood, are represented. Bevelled bars indicate that the taxon is present in
more that 30 samples (actual number given in italics). See tables 2 and 3
for abbreviations of site names, plant names as well as qualitative and
quantitative details.
24 The twenty-nine remaining taxa are in the minority and correspond mostly to bushes
and shrubs (Table 3). They illustrate both the diversity and amplitude of desert wood
resources used by the inhabitants. These floristic spectra offer a priori a non exhaustive
picture of the woody vegetation growing around archaeological sites. For example,
mangrove wood is used as fuel on coastal sites where mangrove formations are present,
and the bentree is mostly attested on the quarry sites, Mons Claudianus, Mons
Porphyrites, Badia and Kainè Latomia (Fig. 7), all located in high altitude areas where
this tree grows naturally. Beyond these qualitative observations, the number of
samples and fragments of charcoal studied is not sufficient to detect possible
differences in plant diversity from one site to another.
25 It is worth noting that Zilla spinosa (ZILSPI, shuk), which is a fuel commonly used
alongside acacia, is almost absent and only represented here in small quantities at
Mons Porphyrites, and perhaps among the undetermined fragments from the
Brassicaceae family at Myos Hormos and Kainè Latomia. Its scarcity is probably due to
the fact that the light twigs of this bush are generally used to start a fire and are,
therefore, less likely to be preserved among the ashes and charcoal of the fireplaces.
However, the presence of charred fruits of this shrub on the sites (see for example the
botanical results from Mons Claudianus in Van der Veen 2001, those from Mons
Porphyrites in Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007 as well as the unpublished data of Xeron
Pelagos), attests its presence and use as fuel. Other taxa identified within charcoal
assemblages such as Cornulaca (CORN), Lycium shawii (LYCSHA), etc., also show the
repeated use of twigs and small fire wood.
26 In addition to wood resources, other flammable materials have been used as fuel, but
do not appear in charcoal assemblages. These include cereal by-products, chaff and
straw (see below), palm leaves and animal droppings (camel and sheep/goat), which
were widely available at these sites. The use of dung, sometimes mixed with cereal by-
products is widely documented archaeologically and ethnographically in domestic
393
contexts. It is demonstrated at Badia (Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007, pp. 106-107) and at
Kainè Latomia (unpublished Newton). At Xeron Pelagos, the presence of camel dung
with acacia and tamarisk charcoal highlights the effectiveness of this type of fuel to
provide sufficient and durable heat for heating the baths (Bouchaud, Redon 2017).
Fuel imports from the Nile Valley
27 Alongside the extensive exploitation of fuel resources from the desert, there are at
least two indications for the importation of fuel from the Nile Valley. The first is the
identification of the Nile acacia, Acacia nilotica (ACNI, sunt) found at Myos Hormos,
Mons Claudianus and Mons Porphyrites. This tree has distinctive anatomical features
that help to differentiate it from the other acacias. Nile acacia hardly grow in the desert
and its charcoal is regularly found in artisanal contexts, suggesting the importation of
fuel from the Nile Valley (Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007, p. 107; see also discussion
below). Of the three sites, the relative proportions of Nile acacia even exceed those of
other types of acacia. Moreover, it is possible that the group of undifferentiated acacias
(ACTA) on these sites and elsewhere include acacia from the Nile valley.14
28 Secondly, there is the substantial presence among botanical assemblages of cereal by-
products, such as chaff of durum wheat and, to a lesser extent, chaff of hulled barley.
These remains are present in quantity in the communal kitchen at Mons Claudianus,
possibly to fuel the bread ovens (Van der Veen, 2001, p. 216, Fig. 8.9) and in the dumps
of Xeron Pelagos, here constituting probable waste from domestic households (see the
contribution of Van der Veen et al. 2018). Botanical analysis of animal dung shows the
import of cereal by-products from the Nile valley to provide feed and litter at the
Eastern Desert sites (see the contribution of Van der Veen et al. 2018 and more
generally Van der Veen 1999, 2007). It is reasonable to think that a part could be used
in parallel as fuel.
Recycling timber
29 At least ten tree taxa that could not grow in Egypt are present within the charcoal
assemblages (Table 3, Fig. 7). They include taxa growing in high altitude areas of the
Mediterranean or in Eurasian temperate regions –such as the group of Scots/black
pine, deciduous oak (QUEDEC), elm, Ulmus sp. (ULMU)– as well as Mediterranean taxa
such as stone/maritime pine, Pinus pinea/pinaster (PIPIPIN) and cypress, Cupressus
sempervirens (CUPR) and tropical wood such as ebony (probably African ebony) and
teak. They are mainly present at Myos Hormos and Berenike. Some rare occurrences
have been recorded on other sites. It may seem surprising to find such exotic taxa
among charcoal assemblages, since one can hardly consider that these woods
originating from the Mediterranean regions of continental Europe, tropical Africa and
India were specifically imported for feeding a kitchen fire. There is little doubt that
they represent the reuse of end-of-life wooden objects as fuel. All these taxa are also
represented among the uncharred wood elements. The practice of reusing timber as
well as the use of diverse local trees and shrubs, animal waste, cereal chaff and straw
and fuels imported from the Nile valley show the large spectrum of flammable
materials.
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Economic and environmental dynamics

30 Here we look in more detail at how the study of wooden objects and charcoal can help
us trace economic and environmental factors that may have influenced wood use from
one site to another and across Egypt in the Roman period.
Species selection
The worked wood
31 Taxonomic identification of wooden artefacts, mostly from the ports of Myos Hormos
and Berenike, and to a lesser extent from the fort of Xeron Pelagos, shows that certain
categories of objects, such as the amphora corks or dishes were made from a wide
variety of woods including Egyptian, tropical and Mediterranean woods (see above and
Table 4). Other artefacts seem, instead, largely dependent on the choice of a taxon or a
group (s). Thus, if we take into account the five best represented taxa (Fig. 7), namely
the acacia (ACTO + ACTA), tamarisk, pine (PINU+PIPIPIN+PISYNI), African ebony and
teak (Fig. 8), we note, first, that everyday objects are made with local wood (acacia and
tamarisk); secondly, that the building elements are represented by local wood, pine (at
Berenike) and teak (at Myos Hormos);15 thirdly, that the maritime objects are mainly
made of African ebony and teak wood.
Fig. 8
Distribution of wooden artefacts made of acacia, tamarisk, pine, African

ebony and teak, according to their supposed function. See table 2 for
abbreviations of site names as well as quantitative and qualitative details.
Note that the boards made of teak from Berenike, which are probably
boat parts reused in domestic architecture, are counted as maritime
artefacts. Pegs from Myos Hormos are considered here as being building
materials but they could also be maritime elements.
32 The presence of tropical maritime woods including rigging and hull equipment at
Berenike and Myos Hormos and the presence of linen and cotton sails (Wild, Wild, 2001,
395
2014) raise questions about how the ships were built and repaired. Indeed, it is been
proposed that the technical construction was similar to that known in the
Mediterranean world. It has also been suggested, from the study of epigraphic sources,
that a “forest” of acacia could have been maintained and operated from Pharaonic
times until the medieval period for ship building at Coptos, the parts being transported
to the ports and reassembled on site (Gabolde 2002). This proposal is similar to that
made in the late 19th century by W. Golenischeff who, crossing the desert to Berenike,
suggested that the acacias near the ports were used to build boats (Golenischeff 1890,
pp. 89-90). However, the raw materials (wood and textiles) clearly identified as
belonging to old ships from the Roman period are neither of Egyptian nor of
Mediterranean origin. Exceptions are the few objects made of tamarisk wood,
potentially of olive tree, Olea europaea (OLEA) and of a taxon of the subfamily Maloideae
(MALO), which includes fruit trees such as apple and pear whose cultivation is known at
this time in the Nile valley (Barakat, Baum 1992). Flax sails probably came from the Nile
valley too (Wild, Wild 2001). The objects made of African ebony reasonably indicate a
tropical African origin while teak objects (Van der Veen et al. 2011, p. 207) and the
weaving techniques for cotton sails (Wild, Wild 2001; Handley 2004; Wild, Wild 2014)
clearly show an Indian origin. On this basis, we could have, on the one hand, Roman
ships, made on Mediterranean models, built with Mediterranean and/or Egyptian
woods, and on the other hand, boats built in India, whose manufacturing process is still
poorly understood (Whitewright 2007; Blue et al. 2011). Some teak elements (wood chips
and boards) and the cotton sails from the ports of Myos Hormos and Berenike may
come from ships built in India, but reused for repairing locally built Roman ships, in
such a way that it is not possible to recognize the wood species originally used to build
the Roman ships.
33 Less common wood taxa were also chosen for specific objects / categories. For example,
combs are mostly made of boxwood, Buxus sempervirens (BUXU) and are amongst the
everyday most frequently identified items at Myos Hormos (Van der Veen et al. 2011,
p. 216). The boxwood grows in Europe, the Levant, North Africa, Central and East Asia
(Gale Cutler 2000); it is, thus, impossible to pinpoint the place of origin / manufacture
of these items. However, the frequency of boxwood combs on other contemporary sites
in the Middle East and around the Mediterranean suggests that these objects travelled
regularly along Roman trade routes, likely indicating a circum-Mediterranean origin
(Bouchaud et al. 2011; Derks, Vos 2010).
Fuel in an artisanal context and charcoal making
34 The plant list obtained by the analysis of charcoal from the seven Roman sites shows
the widespread use of fuel resources for which geographical proximity seems to be a
determining factor. These resources were supplemented by fuel imports from the Nile
Valley and recycled timber reaching the end of its life (see above). Several ostraka –or
potsherds bearing texts, here in Greek– show that soldiers of the Roman army collected
wood in the immediate vicinity of the military forts.16 Plant diversity expressed within
charcoal spectra echoes modern Bedouin practices gathering a wide range of wood
resources available in the area. Bedouin people used to collect dead wood and fresh cut
wood, limiting their cutting to the branches rather than the entire trunk (Hobbs 1989,
p. 53; Christensen 2001). Some of them have other criteria of selection, which are more
subjective and difficult to identify in the archaeological context, preferring acacia for
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long lasting fires, sea blite (SALSUA) for cooking and the species Lycium shawii (LYCSHA)
when the fire has to be started in the rain (Hobbs 1989; Vermeeren 2000b).
35 The majority of charcoal come from waste contexts considered “domestic”.17 Several
charcoal assemblages also clearly correspond to artisanal contexts, such as from the
forge at Kainè Latomia (Newton unpublished), charcoal waste probably corresponding
to craft or ‘industrial’ activities in the satellite fort of Badia and, at Mons Claudianus
(sector “Well sebakh”) (Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007, pp. 107, 137), and in a probable
brick-making workshop at Berenike (Vermeeren 1998). Comparison of these different
types of charcoal assemblages shows the same trend from one site to another: the
number of taxa present in domestic contexts is higher than the number of taxa found
in craft/industrial contexts (Fig. 9). Of course, the larger number of domestic samples
can naturally explain more plant diversity. However, taxa found in craft contexts
correspond mostly to charcoal from acacias: Nile acacia (Acacia nilotica), a local type of
acacia (Acacia tortilis) or undifferentiated acacias at Mons Claudianus (88%), Badia (more
than 90% of the total number of fragments) and Kainè Latomia (100%). Mangrove
charcoal dominates at Berenike (79%). The small number of specific contexts and the
low number of charcoal fragments studied ask for caution, but, nevertheless, it looks
very likely that specific fuel selection was practiced for ‘industrial’ activities such as
metalworking (acacia) and brick making (It should also be considered that a clearing of
the harbour area of mangrove would have provided a large availability), both activities
that require control over the intensity and duration of the combustion.
Fig. 9
Charcoal analysis. Comparison of the number of taxa represented in

supposedly domestic contexts and in some contexts with technological
function requiring high burning temperatures. For the latter, the
dominant taxon is given, expressed as the relative proportion of the total
number of fragments (%). Nb: number of samples, NR: number of
fragments. See table 2 for abbreviations of site names.
36 The use of charcoal from charcoal making, was essential for some of these ‘industrial’
activities. Charcoal can also be used for routine activities such as for making coffee
today by the Bedouins of the Beja tribe in the mountains of the Red Sea (Christensen
2001). Several ostraka from Mons Claudianus mention the use and transport of charcoal
from the Nile Valley to the sites of the imperial quarries of Mons Claudianus and
Porphyrites (including Badia) (O.Claud. I 21; O.Claud. IV 697; O.Claud. IV 742; O.Claud.
IV 826; O.Claud. IV 850). Three ostraka found at Kainè Latomia also mention the import
of charcoal from the Nile Valley for workshops repairing metal tools (O.Kala inv. 596;
O.Kala inv. 63; O.Kala inv. 507; A. Bülow-Jacobsen, pers. comm.). A major obstacle
397
hindering the research on this topic is our present inability to differentiate, using
anatomical observation, charcoal obtained from charcoal making from fresh or dried
firewood. The presence of intentionally produced charcoal in charcoal assemblages has
been demonstrated indirectly. The studies conducted at Mons Claudianus, Porphyrites
and Badia relied on four indices: taxonomic identification, fragment size, the presence
or absence of twigs and charcoal hardness. Charcoal of Acacia nilotica and Acacia tortilis
had, in general, a greater proportion of large fragments (≥30 mm), more hard
fragments (difficult to break), as well as fewer twigs than the two other main taxa in
the charcoal corpus, namely Leptadenia pyrotechnica and Moringa sp. Both types of acacia
are also proportionally more abundant in archaeological areas connected to
metallurgical activities (as at Badia and in the Well sebakh sector of Mons Claudianus:
Van der Veen, Tabinor 2007).
37 Other studies assume that the observation of puffing effect (bubbles) and radial cracks
indicate charcoal making from green wood (Vermeeren 1998, p. 346; Krzywinski 2001,
p. 137). However, the size, the hardness of charcoal (from soft to hard) and the puffing
effect are not criteria currently used by the specialists of charcoal making, and no
methodological study has yet been conducted to demonstrate a correlation between
these proxies and the degree of combustion. Furthermore, it has been shown that the
observation of radial cracks in cross-section is not a relevant criterion to demonstrate
the combustion of green woods (Thery-Parisot, Henry 2012). On the contrary, the
reflectance measurement does appear to be an effective tool to estimate the
temperature of combustion and thus intentional charcoal production. To date, this
method has not (or little) been tested on archaeological material (Braadbaart Poole
2008).
38 In addition to the written sources mentioning the importations of charcoal from the
Nile Valley, the strongest argument in favour of this practice is the abundance of Nile
acacia charcoal in non-domestic contexts. Its recurring presence in those specific
contexts and its absence in the desiccated wood corpus18 suggests that at least some
acacia wood was brought from the Nile Valley as charcoal, reducing the weight and
volume for transportation while meeting the important fuel needs at different sites.
The convergence of papyrological sources and the charcoal results (Fig. 7) indicate that
these imports were particularly aimed at quarry sites. On the other hand, the
hypothesis of locally made charcoal on these sites or elsewhere, using desert acacia,
such as Acacia tortilis subsp. raddiana whose calorific value is recognized (Le Floc'h
Grouzis 2003, p. 46) or mangrove wood, remains largely untested. This practice has
been suggested for the exploitation of desert gold resources during Pharaonic times
(Gale et al. 2000, pp. 353-354) and during the Ptolemaic period (Bouchaud forthcoming).
It was still common until recently among Bedouin populations (Hobbs 1989; Belal et al.
2009; Andersen 2012).
Comparisons between sites: site functions and the regional

economy
39 The wood diversity differs from site to site, in both the number of taxa identified and
their geographical origin. These differences partly depends on the amount of
archaeobotanical samples as well as the state of preservation. For example, the small
number of charcoal samples and the absence of desiccated wood identified at Badia, as
398
well as the absence of charcoal studies at Didymoi certainly explain the low number of
taxa identified on these sites. Similarly, the larger number of samples from Myos
Hormos and Berenike produces a richer taxonomic list. In addition, other types of
explanation can explain taxonomic differences between sites.
40 The classification of taxa by provenance, combining the results of the analysis of
uncharred and charred wood of each site (Fig. 10) provides an initial qualitative
comparison.
Fig. 10
Number of taxa identified per site, including results of both wood and
charcoal identifications, grouped according to their most likely
provenance. See table 2 for abbreviations of site names, provenances as
well as quantitative and qualitative details.
41 Thirty-five taxa are shrubs and trees growing in the desert. These local taxa, dominated
by desert acacia (Acacia tortilis type) are attested everywhere. The cultivated or
naturally growing plants coming from the Nile or the Western Desert oases are
represented by nine taxa. The most ubiquitous taxon, Nile acacia, especially present at
the quarry sites (Mons Claudianus and Porphyrites) is probably related to the import of
charcoal. The remaining eight taxa are only represented sporadically, such as possible
olive wood and Maloideae at Myos Hormos, the persea,19 Mimusops laurifolia (MIMU) at
Porphyrites –a fruit tree protected by the state during the Ptolemaic and Roman
periods (Manniche 1989, p. 121)–, or the reed (ARPHR) at Xeron Pelagos. Nineteen taxa
are typical of the Mediterranean region and/or more northern areas of Europe or the
Middle East. Most of the imported taxa can grow in any part of the Mediterranean
(maritime/stone pine, boxwood, evergreen oak, cypress, etc.), including the Sinai
(juniper). Others, like the group of Scots/black pine, elm, fir, although growing in high
altitude areas of certain Mediterranean regions, may also attest long distance imports
from temperate regions of Eurasia or Anatolia. Among those, pine and elm are the most
frequently identified taxa, but attested only at Myos Hormos and at Berenike. Finally,
399
eight taxa only found on the two port sites are exotic woods characteristic of tropical
and sub-tropical India (teak, bamboo, Bambusa sp., BAMB) or Africa (African ebony).
42 These observations highlight the difference between the supply of port sites and that of
forts and quarries located further inland. This is due, on the one hand, to the use of
wood and, on the other hand, to the economic and social status of the sites. As
previously shown, the exotic tropical taxa are related to shipbuilding; logically, they
are more present in ports than inland sites. Moreover, the two harbours provided
numerous wooden objects, including personal items such as combs, and architectural
elements, such as planks, made of wood from the Mediterranean/European mainland.
These ports saw a multiplicity of human activity, with traders, officials of the Roman
army, soldiers and civilians passing through or settling, each requiring different
materials, including wood. The recycling of these pieces of wood as fuel (see above)
resulted in the diversity observed in the charcoal assemblage. Conversely, the forts,
way-stations and quarry sites are areas of residence and movement less directly related
to long-distance trade: this situation is reflected by the types of wood. They represent a
smaller geographic diversity, especially focusing on local taxa and to a lesser extent on
Nilotic wood (for charcoal, see above) and on wood from the Mediterranean. As well as
the study of seeds and fruits, faunal remains, textiles, pottery (see the various
contributions in this volume of Bender et al. 2018, Leguilloux 2018, Tomber 2018, Van
der Veen et al. 2018), the wood and charcoal remains help us to figure out the economic
system of the Eastern Desert during the Roman period and highlight supply differences
between the Red Sea ports and the inland sites.
Chronological dynamics
The exploitation of wood resources in the longue durée and the uniqueness of the
Roman period
43 The wood studies from earlier periods, from the Old Kingdom to the Late Period,
generally derive from funerary contexts, often of important figures (see for example
for the New Kingdom: Waly 1996; Newton 2002, 2009; and for the Third Intermediate
Period: Asensi Amorós 2017). They correspond to Egyptian wood, such as acacia,
tamarisk and sycamore fig and imported wood, predominantly from Levant and
Mediterranean regions, such as cedar (Cedrus sp.) (see also Asensi Amorós 2003, 2016;
De Vartavan, Asensi Amorós 2010). The cedar and acacia woods are resistant to wood-
boring insects; they can be over-represented as they preserve particularly well, but
their well-known resistance could also have influenced their choice as a material for
funerary furniture (Newton 2009). However, the sycamore fig, which is less durable and
of poor quality, is particularly well attested, probably because of its availability (Asensi
Amorós 2008, p. 30). One domestic context from Upper Egypt provides data for the
Pharaonic period (Middle Kingdom and Late Period): desert acacia and tamarisk are
used for headrests and rods (Waly 1999). Pharaonic boat timbers were found at Mersa
Gawasis (Gerisch 2007; Bard, Fattovitch 2008; Ward, Zazzaro 2010; Ward 2012) and at
Ayn Soukna (Newton unpublished data). Once again, the identified woods correspond
to Egyptian supplies (acacia, fig) and to imports from the Levant (cedar and deciduous
oak). While the data from the Roman period do not allow us to identify the woods
originally used for Mediterranean shipbuilding (see above), these Pharaonic elements
400
support the hypothesis developed by Golenischeff (1890) and Gabolde (2002) assuming
the use of acacia “forests” for the building and repair of ships.
44 Charcoal studies of periods preceding the Graeco-Roman show local fuel supplies (e.g.
for the Pre-dynastic: Newton Midant-Reynes 2007; Gatto et al. 2009; for the Persian
period: Newton et al. 2013). Acacia charcoal is dominant on urban sites or sites linked to
religious institutions in the Nile Valley, for instance at Amarna (Gerisch 2004), Giza
(Murray 2005) and Karnak during the Late Period (26th Dynasty) (Newton et al.
forthcoming). At Karnak, charcoal data and textual sources indicate a possible
management of acacia plantations for charcoal making (Newton et al. forthcoming).
45 For the periods covered by this paper, desiccated wood and charcoal found on Egyptian
sites outside of the Eastern Desert are generally dated vaguely to the Graeco-Roman
period (Marchand in press; Waly 2003 Vermeeren 2016), and datasets clearly dated to
the Ptolemaic period, such as Tebtynis in the Fayoum (Marchand 2015), or to the
Roman period (Bouchaud, Redon 2017; Asensi Amorós 2008) are too small to
understand global diachronic dynamics (Asensi Amorós 2003). The use of the published
or unpublished papyri from these periods would bring important information, but this
would exceed the limited scope of this paper. For both Greek and Roman periods, the
available studies highlight local fuel supplies, dominated by the acacia, tamarisk trees
and fruit trees (date palm, olive tree and vine) (Bouchaud, Redon 2017; Vermeeren
2016). The same woods as well as imported wood from the Mediterranean/European
regions –boxwood, fir, cypress, ash, beech, lime– were used as building materials or for
specific objects.
46 The charcoal and wood corpus of the Eastern Desert stands out from those of sites in
the Nile Valley and the Western Desert oases, firstly because of the number of samples
analysed (limited, but bigger than in other Egyptian regions) and secondly because it
reflects the economic dynamism of the Roman period, involving the transport and use
of wood at local, medium and long distances. While most identified taxa are similar to
those found in the Nile Valley or Fayoum sites, the Eastern Desert assemblages are
distinct in some aspects. For example, pines from the Mediterranean, already present
in small quantities in earlier times and occasionally identified on the contemporary
sites of Fayoum (Marchand in press; Vermeeren 2016), seem to have been widely used
at Myos Hormos and at Berenike (see above). Teak is identified for the first time at both
these sites (Asensi Amorós 2003). Its absence on inland desert sites or in the Nile Valley
and in the Western Desert oases indicates that this wood was preferentially linked to
maritime activity, for Indian ships, and that it was not (or was little) traded in the
Egyptian territory under Roman rule.
The use of cedar in Roman times
47 Cedar, Cedrus sp., a prized wood regularly identified for making funerary furniture,
buildings and boats from the pre-dynastic period onwards (Gale et al. 2000, p. 349;
Newton 2002; Asensi Amorós 2003; Newton 2009) is absent from the Roman corpus of
the Eastern Desert despite an impressive taxonomic list. This may be related to
functional and contextual aspects, this wood being used for buildings or objects not
used in the Eastern Desert. Nevertheless cedar has not been identified on other
contemporary Egyptian sites, with the exception of two supports for painted portraits
(Asensi Amorós 2008). Although an argumentum ex silentio should be used cautiously, it
seems that cedar originated from Syrian-Lebanese regions (Cedrus libani) or, less likely,
401
North Africa (Cedrus atlantica), but was not a main resource during the Greco-Roman
period. Furthermore, the identification of cedar wood in written sources is rather
confused. Indeed, the same popular name may be given to different botanical taxa as
vernacular classification of plants does not necessarily coincide with the Linnaean
classification. This is as true today as in the past, especially in the classical literature,
suggesting that some Lebanese cedar identifications proposed in museum catalogues or
archaeological reports might be incorrect, because a single term was used for both
cedar and other conifers. Anatomically identified cedar is recognized for the Pharaonic
period and perhaps for late Antiquity, as suggested by the fragments found at Abu
Sha'ar (Fadl 2013), but its availability in Egypt during Greek and Roman times appears
to have been significantly reduced. However, the reasons for these changes, potentially
involving other products, such as sycamore fig, are not yet fully understand (changes in
habits and/or practices of trade relations, or even decline of these resources are some
of the many hypotheses that might be explored).
A scarcity of resources?
48 The working hypothesis that comes to mind given the numerous activities involving
the use of wood and charcoal on the “longue durée” is that these activities significantly
affected timber resources available in the desert, in the Nile Valley or even, if we take
the case of cedar, in other Mediterranean regions, leading to their scarcity. Current
Bedouin populations perceive the Roman era as the first period of overexploitation of
wood resources, partly because of large-scale charcoal making (Hobbs 1989, pp. 98-100).
This hypothesis, if it is relevant (Krzywinski, Pierce 2001), is difficult to confirm. At
present, the data prevent us to describe the qualitative and quantitative evolution of
wood resources in the aforementioned regions. In the Eastern Desert, datasets are still
too limited and suffer from excessive methodological bias (limited number of remains,
narrow sampling) to describe the dynamics of biodiversity.
49 The only available data are for mangrove wood. The two main types, Avicennia and
Rhizophora, probably corresponding to the grey mangrove, Avicennia marina, and red
mangrove, Rhizophora mucronata, were recognized in the Eastern Desert datasets. Their
presence, linked to coastal environments, is only recorded at Berenike and at Myos
Hormos, suggesting both wide local use at these ports and low utility value elsewhere
(Schneider 2006, 2011, 2017). The red mangrove is, for example, a timber known for its
rot-proof qualities, making it popular for ship building and port architecture, but of
little use at sites deprived of water. Currently, mangrove formations are extremely
scarce, or even absent, around Berenike, and red mangrove has disappeared locally
(Vermeeren 1998, p. 347, Schneider 2011, pp. 396-397). The study of wood and charcoal
from medieval Kusayr offers the unique opportunity to compare these results with
those of the Roman port of Myos Hormos and to follow the evolution of the corpus. This
comparison highlights a net change between the two periods, marked in particular by a
drop off of grey mangrove20 (Van der Veen 2011, p. 226). These few clues are the only
relevant arguments demonstrating the impact of Human activities on the local
vegetation. The chronological evolution of acacia population cannot be measured at
present because of the lack of data. However, modern testimonies indicate that
potential Roman over-exploitation did not cause irreversible consequences. At the
beginning of the 19th century, Linant Bellefond described wâdis filled with acacias
(Linant Bellefonds in 1831). E.A. Floyer made the same observation and observed, in the
402
1880s, acacia trees, some up to 10 metres high, exploited by the Bedouin for charcoal
production (Floyer 1887, p. 670; quoted in Hobbs 1989). The scarcity of the wood
resources of the desert21 observed nowadays seems to be the result of very recent
developments during the last 50 years, marked among other things by the gold rush
and increase of charcoal making, leading as well to the destruction of archaeological
heritage and increasing desertification (Hobbs 1989, p. 100; Andersen, Krzywinski 2007;
Redon 2017).
Summary and conclusion

50 This first synthesis of wood and charcoal studies conducted on eight Roman sites in the
Eastern Desert offers a regional overview of the uses and supply of wood resources. The
arid conditions have allowed the preservation of wooden objects that are not generally
found in archaeological contexts. These findings show the use of a wide spectrum of
wooden artefacts and timber (domestic and maritime). Their presence underlines the
important place of wooden furniture and objects in ancient societies and, indirectly,
their under-representation on sites where the organic material is not preserved. The
taxa list demonstrates the complex routes of supply which combine local exploitation
of desert resources (acacia, tamarisk, bentree, mangroves, etc.), especially to satisfy
fuel requirements, and acquisitions from the Nile valley (acacia) or Sinai (juniper), and
imports from more distant Mediterranean regions (pine, oak), continental Europe (elm
tree, fir) or tropical African regions (African ebony). The re-use of wood, such as teak
from Indian boats, for building or as fuel also seems to be a common practice.
51 Despite the heterogeneity of the studies between sites and the small amount of data in
some cases, the results highlight both the diversity of resources and the selection
practices. Special attention was paid to choose specific woods for buildings, for
shipbuilding, for everyday objects and for heating. Thus, while the use of wood for
making some objects (amphora corks, dishes) or for fuel might be described as
opportunistic, some selection have been made for maritime objects and building
material (tropical timber and pine) at the ports and for smithing activities in the
quarries (acacia wood, some of which were being imported from the Nile Valley as
charcoal) in order to benefit from the specific properties of the wood. Comparisons
between sites show significant differences between the coastal sites (Myos Hormos and
Berenike) and the inland sites. Like the studies of other materials presented in this
volume, the study of wood resources identifies ports as the main hubs for the transfer
and use of many products used in the Eastern Desert.
52 Results from the Eastern Desert also provide unique data for Roman period in Egypt.
The comparison with other contemporary sites in the Nile Valley and the Western
Desert oases highlights the similarities, but also the emergence of new species such as
teak, and the scarcity of cedar. The available corpus, however, remains too small to
address some issues, such as the hypothetical local making charcoal and the impact of
human activities on biodiversity dynamics. Ongoing archaeobotanical analysis and the
examination of papyrological evidence are two paths that will be explored in the
coming years in order to complete this first synthesis.
403
Aknowledgements
53 Charlène Bouchaud and Marijke van der Veen wish to thank Jean-Pierre Brun and the
College de France for the invitation to the conference of Paris 2016, where this study
was presented by the first author. Charlène Bouchaud and Claire Newton thank Hélène
Cuvigny for the invitation to participate in the French archeological mission of the
Egyptian Eastern Desert, while Marijke van der Veen thanks Valerie Maxfield and David
Peacock for inviting her to join their projects in the Eastern Desert, and Caroline
Vermeeren thanks Steve Sidebotham and Willeke Wendrich for the invitation to join
their excavations at Berenike. Also thanks to Hélène Cuvigny and Adam Bülow-
Jacobsen for information about unpublished ostraka and Valerie Schram and Victoria
Asensi Amorós for their comments on the previous versions of this article. Finally, we
would like to thank Steve Sidebotham for this English translation of the French text.
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Ward C. 2012. “Building pharaoh’s ships: Cedar, incense and sailing the Great Green”.
British Museum studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan, 18, pp. 217‑232.
Ward C., Zazzaro C. 2010. “Evidence for Pharaonic Seagoing Ships at Mersa/Wâdi
Gawasis, Egypt”. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 39, 1, pp. 27‑43.
Whitewright J. 2007. “Roman rigging material from the Red Sea port of Myos Hormos”.
The International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 36, 2, pp. 282‑292.
Whitewright J. 2011. “Wooden artefacts and woodworking”. In Myos Hormos-Quseir al-
Qadim: Roman and Islamic ports on the Red Sea. Volume 2: The finds from the 1999-2003
excavations. D.P. Peacock, L. Blue (ed.), Oxford: Archaeopress, pp. 167‑178.
Wild F.C., Wild J.P. 2001. “Sails from the Roman port at Berenike, Egypt”. International
Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 30, 2, pp. 211–220.
Wild J.P., Wild F.C. 2014. “Berenike and textile trade on the Indian ocean”. In Textile
trade and distribution in Antiquity. K. Droß-Krüpe (ed.), Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz,
pp. 91‑110.
Zahran M.A., Willis A.J. 2009. The vegetation of Egypt, 2, Springer, Dordrecht: Springer e-
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FOOTNOTES
1. The French sometimes use the term "dendrologie".
2. Depending on the areas and issues arising, the sieve mesh used for an anthracological study
varies between 2 and 4 mm (for details on the theoretical and methodological aspects of
anthracological studies see Théry-Parisot et al., 2010).
3. This collection consists mainly of material collected by Claire Newton and Hala Barakat in
Egypt and the North of Africa, and continues to be enriched. The wood is partly kept unchanged,
and partly carbonized in order to facilitate its use for the identification of archaeological
charcoal.
4. Taxonomy is the science and the laws of principles of the classification of living organisms. A
taxon is an entity comprising living organisms, in this case plants, with common defined
diagnostic characteristics and a phylogenetic relationship.
5. The botanical classification of angiosperms APG III (2009) does not recognize them as a family;
Chenopodiaceae are now included in the family Amaranthaceae. However, for this paper we use
the term traditionally used by the archeobotanical community.
6. The “sp.” suffix indicates that a single species of the mentioned genus is considered but that
its identity is not known. The suffix “spp.“ indicates that several species of the same genus may
be considered.
7. Only the taxon Myrtus/Santalum type was not taken into account in the corpus. The
identification of these two fragments from Berenike as Myrtus/Santalum is very uncertain
(Vermeeren 2000a, 2000b), and further represents two potentially rare taxa from completely
different origins (Mediterranean region for Myrtus sp., and India for Santalum sp.)
410
8. The charcoal study of the site of Xeron Pelagos is ongoing.

9. The charcoal from Berenike is not included in this total, since the exact number is not known,
with the exception of those studied during the 1996 campaign (Vermeeren 1998). Note, however,
that tens of thousands of fragments were observed (Vermeeren 1999b, 2000b).
10. The function of wood pieces from Didymoi is not known; their data are not included in this
discussion.
11. Indications in parentheses are the code used to designate the taxa (acronym in uppercase)
and/or local Arabic names used by the ‘Ababda where known (from Hobbs 1989; Mahmoud 2010).
The vernacular term in English is also stated in the text where applicable.
12. Many brail rings have been found at Berenike, but only two have been studied.
13. Two other jujube species found in Egypt in the Nile Valley, Ziziphus lotus and Ziziphus
nummularia , may also be considered (Boulos 2000, pp. 85-86).
14. Confusion with Prosopis is also possible, even if it is not present in Egypt.
15. The architectural elements in question could be included in the category of maritime
objects.
16. These military chores are mentioned at Xeron Pelagos (pers. comm. H. Cuvigny) and in other
regions controlled by the Roman army, such as Dura-Europos, Syria (P.Dura 82, col. 2, l. 9) and Bu
Njem, Lybia (R. Marichal 1992, p. 94).
17. As already mentioned, some charcoal contexts potentially result from a mixture of domestic
and craft activities. In the absence of any other context index, only the particularity of the
taxonomic spectrum (e.g. the over-representation of a taxon, see below) may indicate the
existence of non-domestic discharges.
18. Nile acacia is a strong wood, which is difficult to work. It is used in the Nile Valley, especially
in architecture, but this is not always the first choice (observation C. Newton)
19. The persea is only present as charcoal at Mons Porphyrites. It could, however, like Scots/
black pine wood, match timber recycled into fuel.
20. Red mangrove is virtually absent from the Roman and Islamic corpus.
21. This scarcity is observed in other parts of Egypt. The acacia was a rather normal find in
Roman Karanis where it is nowadays not or hardly present anywhere in/around the site (per.
obs. Caroline Vermeeren).
AUTHORS
Charlène Bouchaud
ORCID: 0000-0002-1318-027X
Archaeozoology, Archaeobotany: Societies, Practices and Environments (UMR 7209),
Sorbonne Universités, Muséum national d’histoire naturelle, CNRS, Paris, France
Claire Newton
ORCID: 0000-0003-3791-3906
Laboratory of Archaeology and Patrimony, University of Quebec in Rimouski (Qc),
Canada
Marijke Van der Veen

School of Archaeology & Ancient History, University of Leicester, Great Britain
Caroline Vermeeren
411
Biological Archaeology & Environmental Reconstruction (BIAX Consult), Zaandam, The

Netherlands
412
Textiles from Mons Claudianus, ‘Abu

Sha’ar and other Roman Sites in the
Eastern Desert.
1 Textiles are a major find group at many of the archaeological sites in the Eastern
Desert. At the Imperial Roman quarry of Mons Claudianus,1 excavators filled no less
than twelve large cantines or metal boxes with textiles –totalling about 1,25 cubic
metres– containing tens of thousands of dirty rags, mostly fragments, but a few more
or less complete items of clothing such as tunics, hats and socks.2 A selection of them
has been investigated by the author, assisted by Ulla Mannering and handweaver Lena
Hammarlund, and other specialists working from recorded data.3 At ‘Abu Sha’ar, a late
Roman fort later turned Christian monastery on the Red Sea coast some 20 km N of
Hurghada, Steven Sidebotham’s team found 1126 textiles during his excavations there
1987-1993.4 They were recorded by the author (1990-1991) and Marion van Waveren
(1993).5 Further textiles have been logged from at least eight other sites in the Eastern
Desert. At Berenike, Felicity and John Peter Wild have recorded more than 3,400 pieces.
6
Dominique Cardon has investigated hundreds of textiles from the praesidia Krokodilô
and Maximianon,7 more than 400 bags of textiles from Dios and Xeron Pelagos, 8 and
together with Hero Granger-Taylor recorded 838 pieces from the rich textile deposits at
Didymoi.9 In addition, Gillian Vogelsang-Eastwood and Fiona Handley have examined
many thousands of Roman and Medieval textiles from Myos Hormos;10 Handley also
investigated the textile finds from The Porphyrites11 (Table 1).
Table 1
Site Textile numbers Investigator
L. Bender Jørgensen,
'Abu Sha’ar 1126 pieces
M. van Waveren
413
Berenike >3,400 pieces F.C. and J.P. Wild
838 pieces recorded

Didymoi D. Cardon and H. Granger-Taylor
< a third of those found
Dios 346 bags of textiles D. Cardon
Krokodilô 250 pieces D. Cardon
Maximinanon 431 D. Cardon
12 cantines L. Bender Jørgensen,

Mons Claudianus
1,833 pieces recorded U. Mannering, L. Hammarlund
Porphyrites 891 pieces F. Handley
Myos Hormos (1978-82) >3,000 pieces (Roman + Medieval) G.M. Vogelsang-Eastwood
2,455 Roman,
Myos Hormos (1999-2003) F. Handley
7,000 Medieval pieces
Xeron Pelagos 72 bags of textiles D. Cardon
Textile numbers. Sites in the Eastern Desert where textiles have been recorded.
Mons Claudianus
2 What did we find among the thousands of rags from Mons Claudianus, and what did we
do with them? First it was a matter of finding ways to deal with them, setting up a
laboratory in the desert and later at the workrooms of the Egyptian Antiquities Service
in Dendera so that they could be cleaned, examined with a microscope, described,
photographed if possible, packed and stored.12 We had to do some hard choices, as it
was impossible to investigate all of them. The solution was to create two bodies of
records: a random sample of 1265 pieces to represent the relative proportion of the
different types of fabrics; and a selected sample of 568 unusual pieces, to show the
range of textiles that had been available to the people who lived and worked at the
quarry. The great majority of the textiles derive from the South Sebakh (SS); over 50%
of all the recorded textiles were recovered here (Table 2). For the random sample, FSE
and FW1 are further major sources, while supplementary groups of the selected sample
were drawn mainly from FN1 and FSE.13
Table 2
Site No of textiles, No of textiles, Total number

Location Excavated
code Random sample Selected sample of textiles
AL1 Animal Lines 1 1992 10 0 10
414
AL3 Animal Lines 3 1991, 1992 24 2 26
AL4 Animal Lines 4 1991 0 5 5
FE1 Fort East 1 1991 0 2 2
FN1 Fort North 1 1991 0 194 194
FN2 Fort North 2 1991 0 4 4
FSE Fort South East 1990, 1991 248 74 322
FW1 Fort West 1 1991, 1992 124 16 140
FW2 Fort West 2 1992 19 0 19
Gate Fort Gate 1992 22 0 22
Gran Granary 1990 14 0 14
North East
NEB 1991 0 3 3
Building
1987, 1988,
SS South Sebakh 709 231 940
1989, 90
South-West
SWS 1991, 1992 15 37 52
Sebakh
Well Well Sebakh 1992 80 0 80
Total 1265 568 1833
Locations, numbers and years of excavation for recorded textiles from Mons Claudianus.
3 Deposition of the textiles happened throughout the existence of the quarry (Table 3);
the great majority can however be dated to one of two phases, based on the combined
evidence of stratigraphy and dated ostraka: c. 100-120 and 135-160 AD.14 It is however
important to note that the remains represent the last stage of the textiles’ life; they
show signs of long use, were threadbare, heavily patched and mended or had been torn
up to be used to wrap or tie around something. Some appear to have been cut in neat
rectangular pieces that may have been intended to use as patches for other textiles.15
Therefore most of the textiles will have been produced much earlier than the date of
their deposition. It is difficult to assess their durability, but considering that even today
well-made wool textiles can last for years if kept safe from moths and other destructive
factors we may presume that they had a life-span of several decades. Those of the early
group are therefore likely to have been made in the late 1st century AD, those of the
later group in the beginning of the 2nd century AD.
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Table 3
Dating of deposition Number of textiles
Ca 110 AD 80
100-120 AD 481
100-140 AD 172
Ca 140 AD 293
135-145 AD 186
136-160 AD 473
150-235 AD 26
Undated 122
Total 1833
Dates of the deposition of recorded textiles from Mons Claudianus.
Fibres, yarns and weaves
4 The first task was to do a general description of each recorded piece such as fibre,
yarns, weave, density, colour, edges, decoration, repairs or other features.16 The great
majority proved to be wool (90%), although other fibres such as goat hair (4%) could be
identified; vegetal fibres were rare (5.5%) and could not be further identified, but are
likely to include flax, hemp and possibly a few cottons.17
5 Yarn can be twisted two ways, clockwise (z) and anti-clockwise (s), or they can be S- or
Z-plied, i.e. composed of at least two single yarns (Fig. 1).
Fig. 1
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Yarn types. Single yarns are described as z or s, plied yarns as Z2s or S2z.
© L. Bender Jørgensen
6 Most textiles from Mons Claudianus were made of s-twisted yarns in warp as well as
weft. This, in particular, applies to fabrics made of bast fibres (Table 4). Goat hair
fabrics were generally made of Z-plied yarns in one or both systems. Like those of bast
fibres, wool textiles are mainly made of s-twisted yarns in both systems, but other
variations appear.
Table 4
Fibre Yarn twist No
Bast (flax and hemp) s-s 47
s-ss 2
ss-ss 11
s-zz 1
z-z 2
S2s-ssss 2
Goat hair z-ss 2
Z2s-s 4
Z2s-ss 6
Z2s-Z2s 38
S2z-z 1
Yarn types in bast and goat hair textiles from Mons Claudianus (random sample).
7 As we shall see below, the choice of yarn types varies significantly depending on the
weave. This is of great interest, as the choice of twist direction often depends on local
tradition. In most societies, one of these directions is the norm. The twist of warp yarns
is usually according to this norm, but weft yarns twisted in the opposite direction are
sometimes chosen to obtain a different texture. In some cases, groups of yarns in
alternating twist direction have been used to obtain optical effects. These are known as
spin patterns.18 Decorative stripes and bands may also be made from yarn in deviating
twist. The basic twist may therefore serve as a diagnostic feature when looking for
textiles made elsewhere.
8 In ancient Egypt, s-twisted yarn was preferred. This preference can be traced back to
the Early Dynastic Period and is not exclusive to linens, as almost all wool textiles from
el-Amarna (Eighteenth Dynasty c.1550-1290 BC) were made from s-twisted yarn.19 This
appears to have persisted into the Roman Period, and also applies to Nubia in the
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Meriotic, X-group and Early Christian periods (c. AD 100-850).20 In other parts of North
Africa, z-twisted yarns appears to have been preferred, although the body of finds to
back this up as yet is very small.21
9 Textiles in wool and linen from Syria and Palestine also show a preference for s-twisted
yarns, although at Palmyra cottons and the finer wool fabrics, especially twills, are
made of z-twisted yarns.22 Textiles from Iran and India have long been considered as
made from z-twisted yarns.23 Unfortunately, there is little archaeological evidence to
support this.24 In the northern Roman provinces and much of Europe, z-twisted yarn
was the norm since c.500 BC and throughout the first millennium AD.25
10 Weaves at Mons Claudianus are mainly tabby, although a variety of twills and damasks
make up almost 6% of the random sample and 10% of the total. Other weaves and
techniques include basket and half-basket weaves (Fig. 2), taqueté, two items in double-
layered tabby, five pieces of so-called ‘Coptic knitting’, a tablet-woven band and 76
pieces of felt.26
Fig. 2
Weaves. a: tabby; b: half-basket; c: basket weave; d: 2/1 diagonal twill; e:

2/1 ribbed twill damask; f: 2/1 chevron twill; g: 2/1 lozenge twill; h:
2/2 diagonal twill; i: 2/2 chevron twill; j: 2/2 broken twill; k: 2/2 lozenge
twill; l: 2/2 diamond twill. For ribbed and block damasks see Ciszuk 2004;
for taqueté see Ciszuk 2000.
11 The fabrics of bast and goat hair fibres are all made in tabby or tabby derivatives such
as half-basket and basket weaves and the yarn types used are those in table 4. The wool
tabbies are also to great extent (670 pieces) made of s-twisted yarn in both systems;
132 pieces has s-twisted warp and z-twisted weft, while 72 have z-twisted yarns in both
systems. Other combinations are much rarer.
12 A different picture emerges from the half-basket and basket weaves: here, z-twisted
yarns appear to have been preferred, particularly for basket weaves (Table 5).
418
Table 5
Weave Yarn types Number of pieces
Half-basket s-ss or ss-s 13
s-zz or ss-z 9
z-zz or zz-z 33
z-ss or zz-s 3
Basket weave ss-ss 1
ss-zz 3
zz-zz 12
Wool fabrics in half-basket or basket weave from Mons Claudianus (random sample).
13 As regards twills, z-twisted yarns in both systems were preferred for plain diagonal
twills 2/1 and 2/2 but s-twisted yarns for 2/1 and 3/1 ribbed and block damasks
(Table 6). This might suggest that the latter were produced in Egypt or the Eastern
Roman provinces, while the diagonal twills may derive from the European part of the
Roman world. For 2/2 broken and chevron twills no clear trend is discernible but for
2/2 diamond twills twisted warp and s-twisted weft is most common. Diamond twills z-s
are common in northern Europe where they have been found at Roman military sites
like Vindolanda in Britain, in burials all over the Germania libera, and wrapped around
mainly Roman weapons given in sacrifice in bogs in Denmark and northern Germany.27
Table 6
Weave Yarn types Number of pieces
2/1 twill diagonal s-s 1
s-z 1
z-z 11
S2z-z or zz 3
2/2 twill diagonal s-s 5
z-z 15
z-s 1
S2z-z 4
Z2s-s or z 2
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2/2 broken twill s-s 2
s-z 1
z-z 1
2/2 chevron twill zs-ss 1
2/2 diamond twill s-s 1
z-z 1
z-s 7
2/1 ribbed damask s-s 3
S2z-zz 1
2/1 block damask s-s 3
3/1 ribbed damask s-s 1
3/1 block damask s-s 7
3/1 block damask s-z 1
Wool twills and yarn types from Mons Claudianus (random sample).
14 Sett and density of are further aspects of a textile that have important impact on its
appearance as well as on properties such as drape, flexibility and whether it is heavy,
medium-weight or light-weight. Accordingly, thread count, i.e. the number of threads
per cm in warp and weft, was measured. This allows us to distinguish between fabrics
that are balanced, i.e. have an approximately equal number of threads/cm in both
systems, and weft- or warp-faced fabrics where one system is dominant. In some cases,
the dominant system completely covers the other; in tabby, this is termed repp. For
twills, no corresponding general term is available. The twills of Mons Claudianus fall in
two categories: balanced twills and densely weft-faced twills. The latter are termed
‘tight’ or ‘flat’ twills.28
Textures, terms and reconstructions
15 The dry, technical data of fibre, yarn types, weave and densities offer valuable
information on preferences of spinners and other choices of the craftspeople that
produced the textiles that ended their life in the rubbish heaps at Mons Claudianus.
They do however not suffice to describe them fully. We needed a tool that could
capture and describe surfaces and texture. In order to delve deeper into this,
handweaver Lena Hammarlund established categories within the common weaves such
as tabby and twill that makes it possible to distinguish between fabrics that were visibly
distinct but had almost identical technical description.29 Hammarlund’s terms such as
‘movable tabby’, ‘flat tabby’ or ‘crows-feet tabby’ have proved transferable to other
420
groups of archaeological textiles30 and have thus added to the terminological tools used
by textile scholars. Terms for stripes, checks and edges were also developed to facilitate
characterisation and discussions.31 Handweavers Martin Ciszuk and Lena Hammarlund
reconstructed a number of the textiles, including various patterned weaves,32 and
experimented with different looms; this has led to a better understanding of the textile
technology that was used to produce the textiles that ended up at Mons Claudianus.33
Identification of items of clothing and soft furnishings
16 Working our way through the textile finds a few items were immediately recognisable
as garments. This included the tattered remains of three tunics, two hats and a cloth
shoe that have been studied by Ulla Mannering,34 and socks in so-called ‘Coptic
knitting. Other items of clothing and soft furnishings have been identified later,
through comparisons with textiles from other sites as well as studies of iconography,
textual evidence, and discussions with colleagues working on textiles from other sites
in the Eastern Desert and from Masada in Israel.35
17 Tunics and mantles: The three more or less complete tunics were found in the SS and
datable to 100-120 AD.36 One, tunic A, had clavi, the purple bands that were typical for
tunics in this period and can be seen in mummy portraits as well as Roman imagery.37
The tunic was heavily repaired and most of the original material replaced by patches,
but the clavi had been meticulously preserved throughout all repairs, indicating that
they conveyed important information on the owner’s social position (Fig. 3). 151 textile
fragments from Mons Claudianus had bands of the type defined as clavi38 and indicate
that clavied tunics were worn at the site, but hardly by everybody. Tunic B (Fig. 4) had
remains of sleeves, and had been put together from pieces of a mantle, as revealed by
three oddly placed woven-in signs of the type called notched gamma.39 These are
characteristic for rectangular woollen mantles of the himation or pallium type.40
Fig. 3
421
Tunic A, MC 1100. The neck opening is in the middle, the clavi on each
side of it, running across the two sheets of the tunic. Although parts of
one side of the tunic is missing and the preserved fabric heavily repaired
the clavi have been kept. For further documentation, see Mannering
2000.
Fig. 4
Tunic B, MC 1101. Three gammae at odd places show that the tunic was
made from a himation. For further documentation, see Mannering 2000.
18 Tunic and himation were the typical costume of civilians in Roman Egypt, as seen in
many mummy portraits.41 The heavy patching of tunic A and the himation re-made into
tunic B probably represent the work of centonarii, rag dealers and patchwork makers
422
supplying clothing for low status people.42 Many of the workers at Mons Claudianus
would fit into this description, in particular those belonging to the familia.43 A total of
44 gammas were found at Mons Claudianus. They were examined by Ulla Mannering
along with 9 other woven-in signs that she termed Eta, Iota, Khi and Delta;44 Etas are
elsewhere termed notched bands or H-shaped.45 Notched bands and gammas were also
used on other items such as tunics and headscarves46 and as we shall see below notched
bands and other types of decoration that easily may be mistaken for gammas also
appear on cloaks.47 They cannot therefore be used unequivocally as evidence for
mantles of the himation type, although we again may infer that some of the people
living at Mons Claudianus owned such mantles. Mannering’s ‘Delta’ sign is by others
termed ‘stepped pyramid’ and derives from the shoulder of a one-piece long-sleeved
tunic of a type that is known from Dura Europos and Khirbet Qazone and turns up sat
Didymoi towards the end of the 2nd century AD.48 The Mons Claudianus ‘Delta’ was
found in the Fort SE in a layer dated between 140 and 200 AD which fits well with the
Didymoi evidence.
19 The baby tunic (Fig. 5) is constructed as a sleeveless tunic, but the armhole is shaped as
if a sleeve was to be fitted in. Put together by several pieces of fabric it is folded along
the neck-opening and shoulder-seam and undecorated.49 It indicates the presence of
small children at the site.
Fig. 5
Tunic C, MC 891. Baby tunic.

20 Socks: One virtually complete sock in so-called ‘Coptic knitting’ or crossed looping50 was
recovered from the FSE (Fig. 6); another was found in FN1 was fragmented but still
recognisable. Three small fragments in the same technique turned up at FN1, FW1 and
the SS; all are likely to derive from similar socks and were deposited between 135 and
160 AD.51
Fig. 6
423
Sock, MC 331.
21 Hats: Two hats were found virtually complete.52 One is of green felt, shaped much like a
fez or pillbox, and like the pileus pannonicus used by soldiers in Late Antiquity (Fig. 7).
The second is a cap with ear mufflers and neck protector, made of triangular pieces in
red, green and yellow, resembling a helmet in shape (Fig. 8). Fragments of two similar
caps have been found, one at Mons Claudianus,53 another at Didymoi. 54 All the Mons
Claudianus hats derive from the SS; two are dated 100-120 AD, one 100-140 AD.
Fig. 7
424
Felt hat, MC 922 seen from the front. For further documentation, see
Mannering 2006.
Fig. 8
Cap with ear mufflers, MC 1110, made from triangular pieces of red,
green and yellow block damask. For further documentation, see
Mannering 2006.
22 Cloaks: The work of Hero Granger-Taylor55 has made it possible to identify remains of
further garments, such as the semi-circular hooded cloaks that were used by soldiers
and civilians for outdoor activities. Among their characteristics are a narrow purple
band running horizontally along the top edge of the cloak, turning at right angles
towards the hood; double row of twining are situated some 5cm above the band and a
little less where it is horizontal; and a small notched bar (Mannering’s Eta) at the
bottom. Original edges (straight as well as curved) were often cut away when they had
become ragged and replaced by sewn edgings.56 At Didymoi, several textile fragments
have been recognised as deriving from such cloaks, especially in the form of off-cuts.57
Some are dark blue ribbed and block damask twills. These are compared to the dark
blue cloaks seen in a group of mummy portraits of soldiers dated largely to the 2nd
century AD58 and interpreted as deriving from cloaks belonging to the military unit that
built the fort.59 Other off-cuts are in undyed, orange or crimson fabrics in weft-faced
tabby and 2/1 twills, 2/2 diamond twill and block damask.60
23 Among the Mons Claudianus textiles, 46 fragments of ribbed and block damasks have
been recovered and studied by handweaver Martin Ciszuk.61 Eight of them are dark blue
ribbed damasks (Fig. 9-10); one is block damask. Most are dated to 100-120 AD, three to
about 140 AD.62 The pieces appear quite similar to those from Didymoi and although
they are smaller and less distinctive in shape they are likely to derive from dark blue
cloaks of the same type. They are slightly later than the blue cloak fragments from
Didymoi but this in fact makes them fit better to the dates of the mummy portraits. A
dark blue 2/2 broken twill (Fig. 11) probably belongs to the same group.63 Other Mons
Claudianus textiles that are likely to derive from cloaks is a weft-faced half-basket with
425
a dark blue band and two rows of twining (Fig. 12),64 a weft-faced tabby with a corded
starting border immediately above a green band (Fig. 13),65 a weft-faced twill 2/2 with a
red band at right angles (Fig. 14)66 and a number of very densely weft-faced or ‘tight’
twills 2/1 and 2/2 that in several cases show evidence of redone edges (Fig. 15-16). Most
of these are undyed or brown wool.67
Fig. 9
Ribbed damask, MC 745.

Fig. 10
Ribbed, dark blue damask, MC 815. Possibly cut-off from cloak.

Fig. 11
426
Dark blue 2/2 broken twill, MC 1098. Possibly cut-off from cloak.
Fig. 12
Weft-faced half-basket weave with dark blue band and two rows of
twining, MC 1357. Likely to derive from a cloak.
Fig. 13
427
Corded starting border immediately above green band, MC 1115. Likely

to derive from cloak.
Fig. 14
Weft-faced 2/2 twill with a red band forming a right angle, MC 1625.
Likely to derive from cloak.
Fig. 15
428
Densely woven 2/2 twill with plied warp, MC 1247. The curved hem
suggests that it derives from a cloak.
Fig. 16
3/1 block damask, MC 1133. The re-hemmed, partly curved shape

suggests that it derives from a cloak.
24 Scarves: Items of garments identified at Didymoi include a number of scarves, several

of which have composite checks that have close parallels in four pieces from Mons
Claudianus (Fig. 17), all found in the SS and deposited between 100 and 140 AD.68
Fig. 17
429
Wool tabby with composite checks, MC 975. Likely to derive from a scarf.
25 Soft furnishings: The study of soft furnishings in Antiquity is less advanced that that of
clothing, although in recent years attempts have been made to identify such textiles in
iconographical and textual sources as well as in textiles recovered from excavations or
in museum collections.69 Much is still a matter of conjecture. Among the Mons
Claudianus textiles are several pieces that do not derive from clothing. Studies of
depictions of soft furnishings and other textiles in Roman art have revealed several
examples that appeared to have counterparts among the rags from the rubbish heaps –
items that are likely to have been carpets, wall hangings, curtains, and mattress or
cushion covers. One piece with a thick pile and a meander pattern is likely to have been
a rug (Fig. 18); another with an almost worn-away pile ornamented with a bunch of
grapes may derive from another rug or perhaps a wall hanging or coverlet (Fig. 19).70
Both derive from the SS; the latter can be dated 100-120 AD. Several pieces show wear
signs that indicate they had been used for sitting or reclining, and are likely to be
cushion or mattress covers (Fig. 20). The designs of some of these are conspicuously
like the mattresses depicted in the lupanars of Pompeii.71 The six taquetés72 are likely to
be cushion or couch covers (Fig. 21). They, too were found in the SS, but appear mainly
to derive from the later deposits as three are dated c. 140 AD, the others to the slot
100-140 AD. Eight resist-dyed fabrics are all light, ‘dry’ tabbies may well have served as
wall-hangings or curtains73 (Fig. 22). Six of these were found in the SS and are mainly
dated 100-120 AD;74 two derive from the FSE and are deposited 140-150 AD.75
Fig. 18
430
Rug with thick pile in a meander pattern, MC 300.

Fig. 19
Red wool tabby with almost worn-away pile, MC 964. The pattern is a
bunch of grapes.
Fig. 20
431
Green wool fabric with two red stripes, MC 945. The worn surface
suggests that it derives from a cushion or mattress cover.
Fig. 21
Taqueté, MC 968. Taquetés were often used for cushions and mattress
covers.
Fig. 22
432
Resist-dyed wool fabric, MC 631. It may derive from a curtain or wall

hanging.
26 Utility textiles: At a workplace like Mons Claudianus, a number of textiles will have
served for utility purposes, such as saddlebags for donkeys and dromedary, sacks,
various types of straps, and sunshields. Many of the goat-hair fabrics must be
considered to belong to this group; three of solid straps or girths are among the most
easily recognisable76 (Fig. 23). Other goat hair fabrics may derive from sleeping mats
like those still used by the men of the Egyptian Antiquities service that guarded the
store then in Dendera (Fig. 24-25).
Fig. 23
Strap or girdle made of goat hair, MC 942.

Fig. 24
433
A large, unrecorded piece of goat hair cloth from Mons Claudianus.

Pattern and type is similar to sleeping mats still used (fig. 25) and may
have had similar use.
Fig. 25
A night watchman’s bedding including a mat very similar to fig. 24, rolled
up for the day, photographed 1994.
434
‘Abu Sha’ar
27 ‘Abu Sha’ar was founded 309/310 AD as a military fort housing a mounted unit of
cavalry or dromedaries, the Ala Nova Maximiana, consisting of 150-200 men (Fig. 26).
This phase ended sometime towards the end of the 4th and beginning of the 5th century
AD. After a period of abandonment, Christian monks or hermits moved in, staying until
the 6th or the beginning of the 7th century AD.77 This means that the site has two phases
of very different use. A well c. 1 km W of the fort was also excavated, as well as a
hydreuma at Bir ‘Abu Sha’ar al-Qibly. The hydreuma was founded in the 2 nd century AD
but remained in use and served the late Roman fort.78
Fig. 26
Plan of the fort at ‘Abu Sha’ar with list of trenches.

© Reproduced by permission from S.E. Sidebotham
28 The textiles from ‘Abu Sha’ar, the well and the Bir ‘Abu Sha’ar al-Qibly hydreuma
number 1126 pieces, most of which have proved possible to sort into one of the two
chronological groups (Tables 7-8). 673 are attributed the 4th century military phase, 272
to the later Christian settlement.79
Table 7
Key in No of % of
Area Trench
plan Textiles Phase
Administrative area/Commandants
S, X, X EXT 27, 32 27 4%
quarter
435
Barracks EE 38 23 3%
Bath CC, DD 37 37 5%
Mill/oil T, T WEX 28 8 1%
N of Fort BB 36 5 0,5%
C, F, H, I, J, L,
NE Sebakh 17 482 71%
M
Principia O, V 23, 30 44 6,5%
Stores R/Z 26, 34 1 0%
West gate P 24 18 2,5%
‘Abu Sha’ar Well ASW A, S 30 4%
Bir ‘Abu Sha’ar Hydreuma BAS A, B, E 18 2,5%
Total phase 1 673 100%
Textiles from ‘Abu Sha’ar, the ‘Abu Sha’ar Well and Bir ‘Abu Sha’ar al-Qibly dated to phase 1.
Table 8
Area Trench Key in plan No Textiles % of Phase
Kitchen N 22 42 15,4%
Kitchen/street R, R/N, RS Balk 26 26 9,5%
Mill/oil T, T WEX, TS BEX 28 38 14%
N gate W 31 6 2,2%
Principia/church V 30 1 0,4%
Stores R, Z, AA 26, 34, 35 121 44,5%
Street/stores Y 33 38 14%
Total phase 2 272 100%
Textiles from ‘Abu Sha’ar dated to phase 2.
Fibres, yarns and weaves
29 As at Mons Claudianus, it was not possible to carry out formal fibre identification of the
‘Abu Sha’ar textiles. In addition, the proximity to the Red Sea caused the textiles to be
436
heavily impregnated with saline substances that made it particularly difficult to

recognize fibres. The following statistics should therefore be taken with a pinch of salt.
30 The textiles appear to fall in two major and two smaller groups: wool, bast (i.e. flax,
hemp), goat hair and cotton. 355 fragments from phase 1 or 53% have thus been
classified as wool, 242 pieces or 36% as bast (or specifically as flax), 28 pieces or 4% as
goat hair and 14 pieces or 2% as cotton or possibly cotton. From phase 2, 75 fragments
or 27% are categorised as wool, 143 pieces or 52% as bast, 4 pieces or 1% as goat hair
and 21 pieces or 7% as cotton (Fig. 27).
Fig. 27
Cotton basket weave, AS 877.

© M. van Waveren
31 Fabrics from phase 1 that are categorised as bast fibres are generally made from of s-
twisted yarn in both warp and weft. Goat hair fabrics have Z2s-plied yarn in one or both
systems, while ten of fourteen cottons are made of s-twisted, four of z-twisted yarns
(Table 9).
Table 9
Fibre Yarn twist Numbers
Bast (flax and hemp) s-s 207
s-ss 2
ss-ss 13
s-z 3
z-z 7
437
z-zz 2
Goat hair Z2s-s 2
Z2s-ss 2
Z2s-Z2s 18
Cotton s-s 8
ss-ss 2
z-z 4
Yarn types in bast fibres, goat hair and cotton recorded in textiles from ‘Abu Sha’ar phase 1.
32 Wool fabrics from phase 1 show a greater variety. The largest group of 173 pieces are
made of s-twisted yarns in both systems; 50 pieces have z-twisted yarn in both systems,
43 have s-twisted warp and z-twisted weft. Paired or plied yarns in one or both systems
also occur. While fabrics in bast fibres, goat hair and cotton all are in tabby, half-basket
or basket weave, a significant number of those in wool are twills. The relation between
weave and twist of the wool textiles is scrutinised below (Tables 10 and 11).
33 In phase 2, fabrics made entirely from s-twisted yarns are even more prominent;
among those made of bast fibres, this applies to 138 pieces while two are s-z and five z-
z. The woollens show more variation; 60 are made of s-s, s-ss, ss-s or sss-ss twisted
yarns, four are z-z or z-zz, six s-z or z-s and two Z2s-s. Two goat hair fabrics are s-s, one
z-z, and all cottons but one is s-s or ss-ss.
34 Weaves found in textile fragments from phase 1 are mainly tabby or tabby derivate
such as half-basket and basket weave; 95 pieces are some kind of twill with 2/2 diagonal
twills and 2/2 diamond twills as the largest groups. 15 pieces are felt. Those from phase
2 also have a majority of tabby and tabby derivates. Two pieces are felt, one piece
taqueté (Fig. 28) and three tapestry (Fig. 29). Only three are twills, all 2/2 diamond
twill.80
Fig. 28
438
Taqueté, AS 642.
Fig. 29
Tapestry in the shape of a cross, AS 649.

35 When combining weave and yarn twist of the wool textiles we find the great majority of
the wool tabbies to be made of s-twisted yarns in both systems. They make up 21% of all
textiles from phase 1 while wool tabbies s-z and z-z each are about 5%.Wool half-basket
and basket weaves from phase 1are also predominantly made of s-twisted yarns in both
systems; only one basket weave is made solely from z-twisted yarn, one half-basket
weave from mixed yarns (Table 10).
439
Table 10
Weave Yarn type Number
s-ss 12
s-zz,z 1
Half-basket
Z2s-ss 3
S2z-ss 1
ss-ss 3
Basket weave
zz-zz 1
Wool fabrics in half-basket or basket weave from ‘Abu Sha’ar phase 1.
36 The twills from ‘Abu Sha’ar phase 1 are a mixed lot (Table 11). Compared to those from
Mons Claudianus, emphasis has changed from z-z to s-s in diagonal twills 2/2. Among
the twill variants further changes are indicated by a range of combinations of single,
paired and plied yarns.
Table 11
Weave Spin Number of textiles
2/1 twill diagonal s-z 1
s-s 27
2/2 twill diagonal s-z, s-zz, z-s 4
z-z 8
2/1 diamond twill s-zz 1
2/1 broken or diamond twill Z2s-s or Z2s-ss 2
s-s or s-ss 3
s-z or s-zz 18
z-z 8
2/2 broken, chevron or diamond twill
S2z-z or S2z-zz 10
Z2s-s or Z2s-ss 6
Z2s-z 2
Yarn twist in wool twills from ‘Abu Sha’ar phase 1.
440
37 When sett and density in the form of thread counts are added to the data on weaves
and yarns it becomes obvious that they consist of several groups. Diagonal twills 2/1
and 2/2 are balanced and have thread counts between 5 and 15 threads/cm, i.e. coarse
to medium qualities roughly corresponding to modern tweeds. Broken, chevron or
diamond twills appear in at least four varieties. Those with s-twisted warp and paired
weft have slightly higher thread counts compared to the plain diagonal twills (paired
weft threads count as 1 weft) but remain balanced or slightly weft-faced, except for a
single piece that is densely packed. Those made of single z-twisted yarns in both
systems show a wide variety, from balanced fabrics of medium density to some with
very densely packed weft. Broken/diamond twills with plied warp and single or paired
weft also show great diversity, ranging from balanced, coarse to medium fabrics to
some with high weft density. Those with Z-plied warp tend to have lower warp counts
than those with S-plied warp, while the latter are more balanced (see Fig. 39).
38 Among the textiles from phase 2 almost all bast tabbies, half-basket and basket weaves
are made of s-twisted yarns in warp as well as weft; only five tabbies have z-z twisted
yarns; among the woollen fabrics, 54 tabbies, all the half-basket and basket weaves and
the taqueté are s-s; one tabby is s-z and another z-z while two of the twills are z-zz and
one z-s. The goat hair tabbies consist as mentioned above of two made of s-s yarns and
one z-z and the cottons are all s-s except for the knotted net that is made from z-
twisted yarn. Two tapestries are s-s, one Z2s-s.
39 The ‘Abu Sha’ar textiles did not include any complete or immediately recognisable
garments, although several pieces undoubtedly are remains of clothing (Fig. 30-33).
Two tapestries are likely to derive from tunics; one belongs to the large piece depicted
in Fig 31, the one in Fig. 33 probably derives from the neckline of a tunic. Among other
interesting pieces three embroideries can be mentioned, two of them on small pieces of
red felt (Figs. 34-35). A group of resist dyed cotton fragments dated to phase 1 have
close parallels at Berenike and Myos Hormos and are likely to be of Indian origin81
(Fig. 36).
Fig. 30
441
Densely woven half-basket wool fabric, AS 073. The shape, cut and
stitching suggest that it derives from a garment.
Fig. 31
Large pieces of linen tabby with bands in weft-float pattern and one
small tapestry motif, AS 400. It probably derives from a tunic or other
garment.
Fig. 32
442
Three pieces of weft-faced wool tabby sewn together, in part by joining

the selvedges of two pieces, AS 018. Likely to derive from garment.
Fig. 33
Fragments of tapestry, AS 699. Likely to derive from neck line of under-

tunic.
Fig. 34
443
Embroidery on a piece of red felt, AS 006.

Fig. 35
Embroidery, red, green, blue and yellow wool on a tabby in bast fibres,
AS 036.
Fig. 36
444
Resist-dyed cotton, AS 708.

Comparing ‘Abu Sha’ar and Mons Claudianus

40 To some extent the ‘Abu Sha’ar textiles resemble those from Mons Claudianus, but they
also differ in many ways. One of the major differences is in fibres. At Mons Claudianus,
about 90% of the textiles are of wool while flax and other vegetable fibres only are
found in about 5%. At ‘Abu Sha’ar, vegetable fibres are much more common, and
include several pieces of cotton. In the early, military phase of ‘Abu Sha’ar, wool is the
most common fibre, but in the later, Christian settlement, this has been reversed.
41 Another difference is in the twills. At both sites, these fall into several groups. Apart
from a single piece of ribbed damask found in a top layer at the NE Sebakh at ‘Abu
Sha’ar (Fig. 37), damasks are only found at Mons Claudianus. Both sites have groups of
largely balanced twills, with approximately the same amount of threads/cm in warp
and weft, and of distinctly weft-faced twills, many with very densely packed weft
(Fig. 38-39). At Mons Claudianus, the weft-faced ‘tight’ twills are always plain diagonal
twills 2/1 or 2/2, while those from ‘Abu Sha’ar are 2/2 chevron, herringbone or
diamond twills (Fig. 40). Almost all the Mons Claudianus twills with plied warp can be
termed ‘tight’. When twills from the selected sample are included, ‘tight twills’ make up
more than 20% of all Mons Claudianus twills, and seem to increase towards the middle
and late part of the 2nd century.82
Fig. 37
445
Ribbed 2/1 twill, AS 309.

Fig. 38
Diagram of twills from Mons Claudianus.

446
Fig. 39
Diagram of twills from ‘Abu Sha’ar.

Fig. 40
Three pieces of very densely, ‘tight’ diamond twills, AS 050, AS 099 and
AS 200.
42 At both sites, the most common selvedges are either simple ones, where the weft just
turns into the next shed without further ado, or reinforced selvedges created by
wrapping the weft around groups or bundles of the outermost warp threads. At ‘Abu
447
Sha’ar, this is usually done over two bundles, at Mons Claudianus three. Details like this
are likely to reflect workshop preferences. End borders are usually made by twisting
the remaining warp threads into a cord (Fig. 41-42).
Fig. 41
Strip torn off the corner of a fabric consisting of a corded end border as
well as a reinforced selvedge, AS 214.
Fig. 42
Selvedges and transverse borders at Mons Claudianus (random sample

only) and ‘Abu Sha’ar phases 1 and 2. Simple selvedges, reinforced
selvedges over 2 and 3 bundles of warp threads resåectively, and corded
transverse borders.
448
Comparing sites from the Eastern Desert

43 Comparing the textiles from these two sites with those from the other recently
excavated sites in the Eastern Desert offer some intriguing possibilities. The sites fall in
five different categories: quarries, ports, praesidia, a fort and a monastic settlement
(Table 12).
Table 12
Site Quarry Port Praesidia Fort Monastic settlement
‘Abu Sha’ar 1 x
‘Abu Sha’ar 2 X
Berenike X
Didymoi X
Dios X
Krokodilô X
Maximianon X
Mons Claudianus X
The Porphyrites X
Myos Hormos X
Xeron Pelagos X
Types of Roman sites with textile remains in the Eastern Desert.
44 They, of course, had different types of populations.83 The quarries were worked by
stone masons and other artisans along with imperial slaves and freedmen labelled
familia; in the ports, sailors and merchants mingled with a variety of service trades.
Soldiers were stationed in quarries and ports as well as in the praesidia and the fort.
Women –wives and prostitutes– and children were also part of the population at most
of the sites although presumably in limited numbers. Only in the late phase at ‘Abu
Sha’ar we encounter a different group of inhabitants: Christian settlers and monks.
45 Most of the sites are dated within the 1st and 2 nd centuries; the 4th century, and the
5th-7th centuries are represented at ‘Abu Sha’ar. The Porphyrites and Berenike also
cover several periods. The variety of sites makes it possible to ask several questions.
One of them deals with fibres. Wool is significantly more common at Mons Claudianus,
Maximianon and Krokodilo than at ’Abu Sha’ar, Myos Hormos and the Porphyrites
(Fig. 43). Several alternative explanations have been investigated. A chronological
development seems excluded as Myos Hormos is contemporary with Mons Claudianus
and the two praesidia. The Porphyrites cover a longer period, and both phases of ’Abu
449
Sha’ar are later. Differential survival, favouring the preservation of wool fabrics at the
desert sites is a possibility, but as argued in an earlier paper I prefer to explain the
difference as due to climate.84 ’Abu Sha’ar and Myos Hormos are both situated on the
Red Sea coast. Evaporation from the sea is strong, causing the air to be humid, contrary
to the dry air of the desert. That makes you sweat. Clothes made from vegetable fibres
absorb sweat. In the desert, absorbing clothing is unnecessary, as sweat evaporates
before it reaches the surface of the skin. Instead, insulation against dehydration is vital.
Temperature changes are violent in the desert, and warm clothes are certainly needed
for cold nights and mornings, particularly in the winter. Wool is a fibre that is
eminently suited for both these purposes. The textiles from the Porphyrites do
however not fit this explanation, as the percentage of wool here is on the same level as
the coastal sites. Fiona Handley has argued that the fabrics of bast fibres that make up
26% of the textiles from the Porphyrites were little suited for clothing and instead
represent textiles used in industrial contexts in the quarry.85
Fig. 43
Fibre preferences at the praesidia Maximianon and Krokodilô, the

quarries Mons Claudianus and the Porphyrites, the port Myos Hormos,
the fort ‘Abu Sha’ar 1 and the Christian settlement ‘Abu Sha’ar 2.
46 Another interesting aspect is the occurrence of twills. It is noteworthy that twills are
much more frequent at military installations, regardless their date (Fig. 44). At ‘Abu
Sha’ar 1, and the praesidia, military personnel were the predominant population group.
With the Monastic phase, twills virtually disappear from the site –the three pieces
allocated to phase 2 may be re-deposited and originally derive from phase 1. Soldiers
administered Mons Claudianus and Myos Hormos, and formed an important although
relatively small section of its population. This indicates that twills were used for
military garbs rather than civilian. Again, the Porphyrites does not quite fit; according
to Fiona Handley, only 3% of the textiles are twills.86
Fig. 44
450
The proportions of the main weaves (bast and wool tabby, and twills) at
Krokodilô, Maximianon, Mons Claudianus, Myos Hormos, and ‘Abu Sha’ar
phases 1 and 2.
Rags and riches
47 How do the rags from Mons Claudianus and ‘Abu Sha’ar compare with the textile riches
in the form of elaborated decorated garments and soft furnishings from the Roman-
Egyptian town Antinoë87 and the so-called Coptic textiles that can be seen in museums
around the world?88 As we have seen, we have few recognizable garments, and merely
small fragments that offer glimpses of the rich and colourful decoration that appears
commonplace in burials at Antinoë and other sites. We have no silks; we have a few
fragments of tapestry at ’Abu Sha’ar, all from phase 2, which means that they are dated
to after AD 400. None were found at Mons Claudianus. We do, on the other hand, have
scraps of resist dyed textiles, piled fabrics, taquetés and other patterned textiles –fabrics
that are known in greater splendour, and much larger quantities from Antinoë and
other sites. This shows us that officers and other dignitaries at Mons Claudianus and
‘Abu Sha’ar are likely to have had taqueté cushions and mattresses, resist-dyed
curtains, piled rugs and other vestiges of civilization.
48 So what, then, can we learn from the textiles from Mons Claudianus and ‘Abu Sha’ar,
and indeed from the recent textile bonanza of the Eastern Desert of Egypt? Their
archaeological context gives us a chronological framework, enabling us to sort them
into three phases –the 1-2nd centuries, the 4th century and the 5th-early 7th century. We
can identify a growing number of items of clothing and soft furnishings. And we may
begin to divide them between different groups of owners: Roman military, various
civilian groups, and Christian monks. This supplies us a hitherto unknown foundation
for building theories and substantiate arguments –in short, a wonderful new toolbox
for further studies of the textiles from Roman Egypt and indeed the Roman world.
451
Acknowledgements
49 Thanks are due to the organisers and the Collège de France for inviting me to the
conference on the Eastern Desert and publishing the proceedings. Further thanks are
owed to the directors and team members of the Mons Claudianus and ‘Abu Sha’ar
projects, in particular Adam Bülow-Jacobsen and Steven Sidebotham who invited me to
join the projects; to members of the Mons Claudianus Textile Project Martin Ciszuk,
Lena Hammarlund and Ulla Mannering; and to fellow scholars of Roman textiles in
Egypt Dominique Cardon, Hero Granger-Taylor, Fiona Handley, Gillian Vogelsang-
Eastwood and Felicity and John Peter Wild who all have contributed by sharing their
knowledge.
50 Work on the Mons Claudianus textiles has been generously funded over the years by
the British Academy, the Carlsberg Foundation, G.E.C. Gad’s Fond, Agnes Geijer’s
Foundation for Nordic Textile Research, the Joint Committee of the Nordic Research
Councils for the Humanities (NOS-H), Novo’s Fond and VKR’s Familiefond. A debt of
gratitude are owed to all.
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shaped tapestry bands”. In Textiles, tools and techniques of the 1st millennium AD from Egypt
and neighbouring countries. A. de Moor, C. Fluck and P. Linscheid (eds) Tielt, Lannoo
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methodology of approaching meaning of colours in ancient textiles. Unpublished MA thesis,
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456
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2014. “Through Roman eyes. cotton textiles from Early Historic
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ENDNOTES
1. Bingen et al. 1992, 1997, Cuvigny 2000, Bülow-Jacobsen 2009; Maxfield, Peacock 2001, 2006;
Peacock, Maxfield 1997.
2. Bender Jørgensen, Mannering 2001. Metal boxes (cantines) MC 1987/3; 1988/4; 1989/17, 18,
19, 20, and Varia; 1990/4, 5; 1991/5; 1992/20 and 1993/1.
3. See Bender Jørgensen 2004a, p. 69 for the full composition of the Mons Claudianus textile
team, and Bender Jørgensen 2004b for an overview of results. Survey and Excavation Mons
Claudianus 1987-1993 volume IV: Textiles and clothing is in preparation and will contain
contributions by all members of the textile team. Preliminary reports and studies can be found in
Bender Jørgensen 1990, 1991a, 1991b, 2000, 2004a, 2004b, 2006b, 2007, 2008, 2011, 2015; Bender
Jørgensen, Mannering 2001; Ciszuk 2000, 2004; Ciszuk, Hammarlund 2008; Mannering 2000a,
2000b, 2006, in prep; Viklund 2007 for preliminary studies. See Bender Jørgensen 2004a, p. 69 for
the full composition of the Mons Claudianus textile team, and Bender Jørgensen 2004b for an
overview of results. Survey and Excavation Mons Claudianus 1987-1993 volume IV: Textiles and
clothing is in preparation and will contain contributions by all members of the textile team.
4. Sidebotham 1993, 1994a, 1994b.
5. Bender Jørgensen 2006a, 2007.
6. Wild, Wild 2018.
7. Cardon 2003.
8. Cardon, Cuvigny, Bülow-Jacobsen 2010.
9. Personal communication, D. Cardon; it is less than a third of the body of textiles found. See
Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011 for detailed description and discussion of c. 100 pieces.
10. Eastwood 1982; Handley 2000, 2011; Vogelsang-Eastwood 2006.
11. Handley 2007. The site is commonly known as Mons Porphyrites. As shown in H. Cuvigny’s
paper (this volume) the ancient name was the Porphyrites.
12. See Bender Jørgensen, Mannering 2001 for a more detailed description of our work process
including selection and criteria for the two groups. MC textiles Nos. 1-468 are stored in Box
1990/4; this box also contains larger pieces of the series 1116-1460. MC Nos. 469-904 in Box 1991/
V. MC Nos. 905-115 in Box 1989/20; this box also contains garments, gammas, and other unusual
pieces from all series. MC Nos. 1116-1460 are kept in Box 1989/18. MC Nos. 1461-1722 and a
collection from Barud (Nos. 1723-51) are kept in Box 1992/20. MC Nos. 1752-63 are re-labelled
pieces, mainly kept in Box 1989/20.
13. For maps of the site and location of the excavated area see Maxfield, Peacock 2001, fig. 1.4,
and Maxfield (see http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-pierre-brun/
symposium-2016-03-30-14h30.htm).
14. For phasing and dating of Mons Claudianus see Maxfield, Peacock 2001, pp. 423-428.
15. Mannering 2000a, p. 283; see also Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, pp. 276-278.
457
16. Cf. Walton, Eastwood 1988.

17. The presence of a few cottons is inferred after having seen (and felt) cotton textiles from
‘Abu Sha’ar. Unfortunately it was not possible to carry out fibre analysis at either site.
18. Bender Jørgensen 1992, pp. 120-152.
19. Kemp, Vogelsang-Eastwood 2001, pp. 58-60; Van ‘t Hooft et al. 1994, p. 14.
20. Bergman 1975; Thurman, Williams 1979.
21. Bender Jørgensen 2017; Henshall 1984; Maspero et al. 2002; Wild 1984, 2010, pp. 486-488.
22. Schmidt-Colinet, Stauffer, Al-Asad 2000; Yadin 1963.
23. Pfister 1937; Wild 1970, p. 44.
24. Wild, Wild 2014; see also Hadian et al. 2012 for recent Iranian examples.
25. Bender Jørgensen 1992, pp. 126-150.
26. For definitions of weaves see Bender Jørgensen 2004b, fig. 2 and Ciszuk 2004.
27. Bender Jørgensen 1992; Möller-Wiering 2011; Wild 1977.
28. Bender Jørgensen 2004b, p. 95; Hammarlund 2005, p. 110.
29. Hammarlund 2005, accessible at http://www.hb.se/PageFiles/3251/Filer/
ctfjournal_2005.pdf#page=88
30. Hammarlund et al. 2008; Hammarlund 2013.
31. Bender Jørgensen 2006b, 2007, 2008, 2011.
32. Ciszuk 2000, 2004
33. Ciszuk, Hammarlund 2008.
34. Mannering 2000a, 2006.
35. In this, we owe particular thanks to Hero Granger-Taylor, who generously shared her
knowledge and understanding of Roman garments and the way they were made.
36. MC 891, 1100 and 1101. See Mannering 2000a for details, patterns and discussion.
37. Mannering 2000a; Bender Jørgensen 2004b, pp. 92-93; Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011,
fig. 306, Pl. 10.
38. Bender Jørgensen 2011.
39. Mannering 2000a, pp. 286-88.
40. Granger-Taylor 1982, 1987, 2000, p. 157; Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, pp. 308-310,
Fig. 318 and Pl. 18b-d.
41. Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, Pl. 18b-d.
42. Mannering 2000a, p. 289.
43. Cf Cuvigny 2000; see also Cuvigny 2005, 2016.
44. Mannering 2000a, p. 287.
45. Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, pp. 309-310.
46. Szymaszek 2015.
47. Following Croom 2000, p. 35 and Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, pp. 308 and 319-320,
the term ‘cloak’ designates semicircular, hooded outer garments such as the paenula, in contrast
to ‘mantle’ that is used of the rectangular, draped himation.
48. Granger-Taylor 2000; Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, pp. 293-294.
49. Mannering in prep.
50. Burnham 1972; Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, p. 349.
51. MC 331, MC 861, MC 1144, MC 1234, MC 1628. The complete sock is MC 331, the fragmented
one MC 1234.
52. Mannering 2006. MC 922, p. 1110.
53. Mannering 2006, p. 158, fig. 8. MC 548.
54. Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, Pl. 30c-d.
55. Granger-Taylor 2007, 2008.
56. Granger-Taylor 2008.
458
58. Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, p. 356 Table 5.

59. Cardon, Granger-Taylor, Nowik 2011, p. 325.
61. Ciszuk 2004. In Ciszuk’s work, ribbed damasks are termed ‘barred 2/1 or 3/1 twills’.
62. Ribbed damasks MC 745, 815, 818, 973, 1066, 1084, 1089, 1485; block damasks MC 505.
63. MC 1098. It also derives from the SS and is dated 100-120 AD.
64. MC 1357.
65. MC 1115.
66. MC 1625.
67. E.g. MC 974 (blue), 998, 1123, 1139, 1346. MC 974 is dated 100-120 AD, the others are from
about 140 AD and later.
68. MC 975, 1040, 1081, 1114.
69. Ripoll 2004; De Moor, Fluck 2009.
70. Bender Jørgensen 2000, Fig. 6, the design then interpreted as a ‘tree of life’.
71. Bender Jørgensen 2011, p. 77.
72. Ciszuk 2000.
73. Bender Jørgensen 2000, Fig. 10.
74. MC 631, 940, 1016, 1036, 1056, 1752.
75. MC 396, 399.
76. MC 923, 942, 1028.
77. Sidebotham 1993, 1994a, 1994b; Sidebotham, Hense, Nouwens 2008, p. 57.
78. Sidebotham 1994b; Sidebotham, Hense, Nouwens 2008, p. 317.
79. Bender Jørgensen 2006a, 2007.
80. The twills derive trenches R and R/N, two of them from the upper layers. They are all quite
small, and may have been re-deposited during the monastic settlement.
81. Wild, Wild 2014, Fig. 8.
82. See Bender Jørgensen 2004b, note 58, for find list.
83. Bender Jørgensen 2004b, pp. 88-91; for recent updates see also Cuvigny 2005, p. 334; Peacock,
Maxfield 2007, pp. 427-429; Peacock, Blue 2011, pp. 346-347; Sidebotham, Hense, Nouwens 2008,
pp. 53-60, and 189-192.
84. Bender Jørgensen 2004b, pp. 91-92.
85. Handley 2007, p. 370.
86. Handley 2007, pp. 370-371.
87. Calament, Durand 2013.
88. See e.g. De Moor, Verhecken-Lammens, Verhecken 2008; Erikson 1997; Fluck, Linscheid,
Merz 2000; Palme, Zdiarsky 2012; Pritchard 2006; Rutschowscaya 1990; Thomas 2001; Van‘t Hooft
et al. 1994.
AUTHOR

NTNU Norwegian University of Science and Technology
459
Textile Contrasts at Berenike

Felicity Wild and John Peter Wild
1 The Red Sea port of Berenike lies almost off the bottom of the map in the far south-
eastern corner of the Roman Empire (Fig. 1). Residents, ancient and modern, have
always been acutely conscious of the attenuated lines of communication and supply
that lead to the site, and govern their lives. Elsewhere in this volume the archaeology
and history of Berenike is reviewed in greater detail by other members of the Berenike
project, and key results of the most recent research are presented for the first time.1 It
is sufficient to note here that it was a vibrant, cosmopolitan port, full of contrasts in
every aspect of its daily life. The following brief overview of the textile finds
concentrates on two types of contrast: one reflects changes through time, the other the
spectrum of the site’s ethnic diversity.
Fig. 1
460
Map of Roman Egypt and the location of Berenike (drawn by J.P.Wild).

© J.P. Wild
2 The present writers took part in the study seasons at Berenike from 1995 to 2001. After
an intermission of some eight years Alexandra Pleşa from the Free University of
Amsterdam has now taken over the recording and study of the textiles, and her first
interim report will be published shortly.
3 During the first eight seasons of excavation some 3,400 textile fragments were
recovered, and have been recorded in detail. Almost all of them are comparatively
small (Fig. 2).2 They were found in rubbish deposits, which were often heavily eroded
(Fig. 3). Moreover, they were impregnated and degraded with salt from the rising local
water-table. Many of them were stiff like cardboard, and had to be recorded in that
condition because there was insufficient water on site in those days to wash them
repeatedly.
Fig. 2
461
Tray of typical rags from the early Roman midden at Berenike (BE99
trench 31.7.PB2) (2281-I).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 3
Eroded rubbish deposit on the site of the later Roman town at Berenike.
© J.P. Wild
4 There are two principal deposits of rubbish at Berenike. The earlier –ringed on the plan
in Fig 4– were interleaved middens (‘trash dumps’) containing material jettisoned
during the Neronian and early Flavian periods.3 The datable pottery and dated ostraka
indicate a closing date in the reign of Titus, as Rodney Ast has stated elsewhere in this
volume. The pre- and early Flavian settlement, however, that was responsible for the
build-up of the middens has not yet been located and investigated. The later rubbish
deposits, by contrast, were occupation layers in and between buildings in the
prominent late fourth- and fifth-century town further to the east.4 A historical source
referring to events in AD 524-525 reveals a settlement by then in terminal decline.5
There is no post-Roman occupation.
462
Fig. 4
Plan of Berenike at the end of the 2001 season. The trenches cut into the
early Roman midden are ringed in yellow (drawn by Martin Hense,
reproduced by courtesy of S.E. Sidebotham and the Berenike Project).
© M. Hense
5 The early textile group can be considered first. The pre- and early Flavian wool fabrics
were of excellent quality, presumably reflecting the tastes and standards of the military
element in the contemporary population. Papyri indicate that the Roman army were
particularly demanding customers for Egyptian weavers. A much-quoted papyrus (BGU
VII, 1564), for instance, lays down exact and detailed specifications for a military tunic,
4 cloaks and a wool blanket on order from the weavers of Philadelphia; but, despite the
fact that they had received an advance payment for the work, a later document
contains their plea for more time to complete the order.6 It is no wonder, therefore,
that soldiers commonly had recourse to the open market or the generosity of relatives
to cover their clothing needs.7
6 Clothing dyed in reds (Fig. 5) and blues, often with narrow tapestry-woven clavi (Fig. 6),
was standard attire. Checks (Fig. 7) and variegated stripes (Fig. 8) are more
representative of furnishing fabrics, of which there were plenty at Berenike to ease the
otherwise Spartan surroundings.
Fig. 5
463
BE95 1815: red-dyed wool textile in plain tabby weave (early Roman).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 6
BE99 3205: wool textile recycled from garment (tunic?) with dark-blue
clavus (early Roman).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 7
464
BE01 3120: wool tabby textile with green-blue and red check pattern
(early Roman).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 8
BE99 1681: scrap of blue-grey striped wool furnishing (?) fabric (early
Roman).
© J.P. Wild
7 The largest early Roman textile find (measuring over 64 cm x 40 cm) is a recycled object
incorporating pieces of tunic with clavi and a dark brown open weave which may have
served as a lining fabric (Fig. 9, 10). The textile’s precise function in this form is not
self-evident; but it highlights the challenge of making sense of small scraps of fabric.
465
Future progress on this issue at Berenike will depend on Hero Granger-Taylor’s

invaluable discussions of the larger, more diagnostic textile fragments from Didymoi
and Masada.8
Fig. 9
BE00 2048: recycled wool textile incorporating ‘purple’-dyed clavi

(obverse).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 10
BE00 2048: reverse of recycled textile BE00 2048 with remains of possible
lining in dark wool tabby.
© J.P. Wild
8 Linen clothing was worn less often than wool at Berenike, a phenomenon noted at
other Eastern Desert sites, as Lise Bender Jørgensen reveals elsewhere in this volume.
The fragment in Fig 11 seems to have been the corner of a fine-woven decorative
textile, perhaps a coverlet. The apparently empty band still contains traces of narrower
466
bands successively in red, blue and green wool yarn, together with knotted warp ends
along one edge and tiny wool-wrapped bobbles integral with the original tapestry-
woven structure on the adjacent edge. Fig 12 shows a length of everyday flax webbing
in basket weave.
Fig. 11
BE99 1962 corner of a linen textile in plain tabby weave with vestiges of
red wool weft in a (now empty) tapestry-woven band.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 12
BE99 1875: flax webbing with paired warp.

© J.P. Wild
9 Goat hair in naturally occurring colours was employed for hard-wearing bags (Fig. 13)
and straps (Fig. 14). The hair was probably harvested from local animals, and locally
woven. The yarn was regularly plied for extra tensile strength; for it was recognised
that goat hair fibres with their less prominent surface scale structure interlock less
readily than sheep’s wool fibres.9 Goat hair remained a major resource throughout
Berenike’s history.
Fig. 13
467
BE01 2747: scrap of very dark brown goat-hair fabric with stripes in other
natural colours.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 14
BE01 2926: narrow goat-hair webbing with repaired and reinforced

terminal loops.
© J.P. Wild
10 Many of the wool (but not linen) textiles ended their useful life in amalgams of rags
sewn together with goat-hair thread into thick pads (kentrones).10 They may have served
some as yet undefined utilitarian purpose, possibly as cushioning for the burdens of
468
pack animals or as fenders for shipping. The example in Fig 15 measures about 40 cm x
30 cm overall. Similar amalgams turn up in late Roman contexts in Berenike, too.
Fig. 15
BE98 1106: amalgam of old rags converted into padding.

© J.P. Wild
11 An unexpected and important find from the midden complex was an example of wool
taqueté, otherwise known as weft-faced compound tabby or vestis polymita (Fig. 16, 17).11
The reversible pattern in taqueté was woven by a semi-mechanised process still
practised in Iran today on the immense vertical zilu loom (Fig. 18, 19). 12 The Berenike
fragment is arguably the earliest securely stratified and dated taqueté in the Roman
world. The technique, however, may have been invented in Ptolemaic Alexandria two
centuries earlier.
Fig. 16
469
BE97 0118: detail of a wool textile in weft-faced compound tabby weave

(taqueté) carrying registers of linked motifs in dark blue weft on an
apparently undyed background.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 17
BE97 0118: drawing of the surviving area of pattern on the wool taqueté
BE97 0118.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 18
Diagram of the principle of two-colour reversible taqueté (with paired

pattern warp) (by courtesy of Chris Verhecken-Lammens).
© C. Verhecken-Lammens
Fig. 19
470
Diagram of two-colour reversible taqueté with cross-section (above) in

weft direction (after De Moor 1993).
© J.P. Wild
12 The sheer quantity of cotton cloth identified at Berenike was initially surprising –
between 18% and 28% of the early textile corpus, depending on find-spot: for cotton is
normally regarded as an exotic fibre.13 Most of it was plain (Fig. 20), some of it very fine
indeed –and some of it was woven as blue check (Fig. 21).
Fig. 20
BE98 0933: piece of cotton cloth in plain tabby weave with Z-spun yarns
and a transverse border of warp loops.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 21
471
BE99 1848: fragment of blue check cotton cloth with Z-spun yarns.
© J.P. Wild
13 There is a technical feature to be explained at this point. A spinner can spin yarn on a
hand-spindle either in a clockwise or an anti-clockwise direction. To avoid confusion,
the clockwise direction is described by textile archaeologists as ‘Z-spin’, anti-clockwise
as ‘S-spin’. The central stroke of the letter corresponds to the direction in which the
fibres lie in the spun yarn (Fig. 22). Spin direction was dictated in antiquity by local
convention. Spinners in the Nile Valley normally produced S-spun yarn. The cottons
shown in Figs 20 and 21, however –and most other cottons from the early Roman
middens– contain only Z-spun yarn. (They can be described as ‘Z/Z-spun cottons’, i.e. Z-
spun yarn in both warp and weft.) That suggests that they are intrusive to the Nile
Valley, and strong circumstantial evidence from archaeology and written sources
points to India as their origin.14
Fig. 22
472
Diagram clarifying the distinction between Z-spun yarn (clockwise twist)

and S-spun yarn (anti-clockwise twist).
© J.P. Wild
14 The middens yielded two remarkable types of Indian cotton artefact which deserve
comment here.
15 The first of them is sailcloth. A piece of crumpled medium-weight cotton fabric (BE97
0103) (Fig. 23A, 23B) displays narrow bands which had been sewn to it both horizontally
and vertically to form a grid pattern. It echoes the appearance of the sails frequently
depicted in Roman art,15 but paralleled by just one find that is unequivocal: part of a
linen sail from a late Ptolemaic or early Roman burial near Luxor.16
Fig. 23A
473
BE97 0103: fragment of cotton sail in Z/Z-spun yarn with vertical and
horizontal reinforcing strips sewn to it.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 23B
BE97 0103: diagram of the sail fragment with reinforcing strips and a
repair patch.
474
© J.P. Wild
16 The bands at Berenike were either purpose-woven webbing (Fig. 24) or plain cloth
strips with the raw edges turned under (Fig. 25).17 Their function can be seen on a
detailed depiction of a ship at Ostia (Fig. 26).18 Where the reinforcing bands cross,
brailing rings were sewn, through which the ropes passed to raise or lower the sails.
Wooden and cattle-horn brailing rings have come to light in some numbers at Berenike
(Fig. 27) and Myos Hormos.19 The question of where such sails, designed to a
Mediterranean blueprint, but made of Indian cotton, and repaired only with Indian
thread, were actually constructed, is a topic of lively debate.
Fig. 24
BE99 1512: length of Z/Z-spun cotton webbing with S-plied warp and blue
lateral pinstripes.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 25
BE98 0827: strips of Z/Z-spun cotton cloth used to reinforce sails.

© J.P. Wild
475
Fig. 26
Drawing of a ship on a funerary relief from Ostia showing brailing rings at junctions between
reinforcing strips (after C.V. Daremberg and E. Saglio 1877-1919).
© C.V. Daremberg and E. Saglio
Fig. 27
Brailing rings and detached length of Z/Z-spun reinforcing strip.

© S.E.Sidebotham
17 The second type of notable textile is an item which Indian sailors aboard the ships in
the India trade brought with them –comfortable cotton sleeping mats with a thick pile.
They have stout plied warp and carry a pile of Ghiordes knots on one side, or in one
476
case on both sides (Figs 28, 29).20 Their qualities are demonstrated well by this
reconstruction in cotton by Lena Hammarlund (Fig. 30). Paradoxically, two closely
similar knotted-pile mats of almost exactly the same date have been discovered in the
auxiliary fort at Vindolanda near Hadrian’s Wall, at the opposite corner of the Empire;
but they were made of wool.21 There is nothing like them known so far in the heart of
the Empire.
Fig. 28
BE99 1527: heavy cotton sleeping mat with two-sided pile of Ghiordes
knots.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 29
477
BE99 1527: diagram of structure of knots in mat BE99 1527.

© J.P. Wild
Fig. 30
Replica of a cotton mat like BE99 1527 with pile of cut knots (woven by
Lena Hammarlund).
© J.P. Wild
18 Neither cotton sailcloth nor cotton pile sleeping mats are known at Berenike after the
Flavian period. This is unlikely to be a mere accident of deposition and survival.
478
19 Fast forward now in time, some 250 years. Comparatively little was happening on the
ground at Berenike. But in the Empire as a whole the period saw a slow revolution in
Roman costume, under the influence of fashions on the periphery. Compare the
clothing of the soldier in Fig 31 –a reconstruction by Graham Sumner based on second-
century textiles from Mons Claudianus– noting the narrow unpretentious clavi on his
cape and tunic, with the costume of a fourth-century officer shown on a wall painting
in the catacomb on the Via Latina in Rome (Fig. 32).22 Note the elaborate figured
tapestry-woven clavi, roundels and swastikas on his clothing. An increasing richness of
dress, but coupled with a marked lowering of actual technical quality, can be observed
in the Berenike textile repertoire, too.
Fig. 31
Painting of a second-century decurion at Mons Claudianus by Graham

Sumner based on archaeological finds from the site (by courtesy of
Graham Sumner).
© G. Sumner
479
Fig. 32
Painting of a member of the auxilia palatina in Rome by Graham Sumner based on a wall-painting in
the catacomb on the Via Latina, Rome (by courtesy of Graham Sumner).
© G. Sumner
20 The late Roman textiles were found in rubbish dumped in abandoned buildings in the
late fourth/fifth-century town or in the alleyways between them (Fig. 33, 34).
Fig. 33
View eastwards across the later Roman town at Berenike showing

building outlines.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 34
480
Plan of the later Roman town at Berenike (earlier harbour front in grey).
Numbers in red denote excavated trenches. (Drawn by Martin Hense,
reproduced by courtesy of S.E.Sidebotham and the Berenike Project.)
© M. Hense
21 Some pieces belonged to household furnishings, like the bright wool scraps in Figs 35
and 36. The tapestry-woven bud on the fragment in Fig. 37 is characteristic of linen
curtains, which are marked by a scatter of repeated small motifs.23 A sixth-century
mosaic in the church of San Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna, illustrates the style and
function (Fig. 38).
Fig. 35
BE98 1009: scrap of striped wool cloth, possibly furnishing fabric (late
Roman) (dimensions 2.8cm by 2.5cm).
© J.P. Wild
481
Fig. 36
BE98 1013: fragment of striped wool textile with plied warp, possibly a
furnishing fabric (late Roman).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 37
BE88 1076: linen curtain fragment with a small tapestry-woven motif (a

bud?) inserted in dyed wool yarns.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 38
482
Curtain with scattered individual decorative motifs represented on a

mosaic in the church of San Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna (sixth century)
(photo by courtesy of Cäcilia Fluck).
© C. Fluck
22 Another textile scrap can be identified as the corner of a rectangular wool cloak, with a
typical H-shaped blue tapestry motif in each corner (Fig. 39). While the form of the
cloak is familiar (Fig. 40), the textile was woven from undyed pigmented wool and the
quality of its workmanship is not of the best.
Fig. 39
483
BE96 0205/0206: corner of a rough wool cloak with selvedge, twined

transverse border and remains of a blue tapestry-woven H-motif.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 40
484
BE96 0205/0206: conjectural outline of the cloak represented by the

fragments BE96 0205/0206 based on contemporary examples from graves
in Lower Nubia.
© J.P. Wild
23 Fancy wool taqueté was not uncommon in late Roman Berenike (Fig. 41A, 41B, 42A, 42B).
Surviving fragments are often well worn on one side, and virtually unworn on the
other, confirming that they had served to encase feather bolsters on beds and couches.
24
Fig. 41A
BE96 0227: scrap of wool taqueté with geometric pattern in red

(dimensions 5.2 cm by 3.4 cm).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 41B
485
BE96 0227: the probable overall decorative scheme of the taqueté BE96
0227.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 42A
BE97 0029: wool taqueté with pattern of contiguous hexagons containing

quartered lozenges in blue.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 42B
486
BE97 0029: decorative scheme of wool taqueté BE97 0029.

© J.P. Wild
24 There are some exceptional items in the late assemblage, too. Figs 43A and 43B show
some simple linear embroidery on what may have been a wool pouch flap. Embroidery
was a very unusual mode of decoration in the Roman world.25
Fig. 43A
BE95 0043: embroidery in chain stitch on a blue and red wool ground
weave (overall dimensions of re-assembled fragments c.10 cm by c.5 cm).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 43B
487
BE98 0043: tracing of embroidered lines on BE97 0043.

© J.P. Wild
25 There was much discussion about the possible function of the object appearing in
Fig 44A. Parallels, including two more examples from Berenike to be published by
Alexandra Pleşa, suggest that it was the casing of a child’s felt ball –created in a
wrapping technique called ‘god’s eye’ (Fig. 44B).
Fig. 44A
BE98 1037: crushed blue felt ball covered with decorative wrapping yarns
in the ‘god’s eye’ technique.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 44B
488
BE98 1037: principle of the ‘god’s eye’ structure.

© J.P. Wild
26 On close examination the scrap of heavily abraded linen BE96 0290 (Fig. 45) was seen to
have been decorated originally with lines of tiny blue wool loops filling a tongue-
shaped motif that was framed in red. (The red may have been painted on the flax warp
as a guide to the weaver.) A similar motif and technique can be observed in a detail
from a much better preserved example of the same class of textile, now in the Abegg-
Stiftung, Bern (Fig. 46). The complete textile is a wall-hanging found in Egypt –the so-
called ‘Elijah hanging’– radiocarbon-dated to the fifth or early sixth century AD
(Fig. 47).26 It measures 3 m high and at least 3.5 m wide, so presumably the Berenike
fragment in its original state once adorned a public building in the late Roman town,
arguably a church, to guess from the Christian iconography of the parallels.27
Fig. 45
489
BE96 0290: fragment of linen with traces of lines of loops in blue wool
yarn framed in red to form an incomplete tongue-shaped feature.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 46
490
Detail of the ‘Elijah’ hanging in the Abegg-Stiftung showing (upside

down) a tongue-shaped motif (photograph by Christoph von Viràg,
reproduced by courtesy of the Abegg-Stiftung, CH-3132 Riggisberg).
© C. von Viràg
Fig. 47
The greater part of the ‘Elijah’ hanging in the Abegg-Stiftung

(photograph by Christoph von Viràg, reproduced by courtesy of the
Abegg-Stiftung, CH-3132 Riggisberg).
© C. von Viràg
27 Indian Z/Z spun cottons make up about 25% of the late assemblage. Check decoration in
various styles was still very popular (Fig. 48, 49).28
Fig. 48
491
BE97 0092: cotton check in Z-spun yarns.

© J.P. Wild
Fig. 49
BE95 0078: scrap of cotton check in Z-spun yarns (dimensions 2.5cm by

3cm).
© J.P. Wild
28 The most exciting late Roman cottons, however, were resist-dyed in blue, a technique
known in Roman Egypt on wool, but associated especially with India. The motifs were
first painted on the undyed cloth with a resist medium like wax. When the cloth was
dipped into the dye bath, only the unwaxed, background, areas took up the dye. In the
pieces shown in Figs 50 and 51 the motifs are dot rosettes, well documented in Indian
art.29 Other fragments may depict a lotus bud (Figs 52A, 52B) and a four- or eight-
petalled flower (Figs 53A, 53B). They may be interpreted as remains of wall hangings or
curtains, but they could equally well be from clothing worn by resident Indians.
Fig. 50
492
BE01 2706: resist-dyed cotton in Z-spun yarns with fringe and dot-rosette
motifs.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 51
BE98 1105: resist-dyed cotton in Z-spun yarns with overall dot-rosette

pattern (dimensions 11.5 cm by 10.5 cm).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 52A
493
BE96 0219: resist-dyed cotton in Z-spun yarns with probable ‘lotus’ motif
(dimensions 4 cm by 9 cm).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 52B
BE96 0219: conjectural reconstruction of the fragmentary ‘lotus’ motif on

BE96 0219.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 53A
494
BE94 116: resist-dyed cotton fragment in Z-spun yarns with partial floral
decoration (dimensions 3.4 cm by 1.4 cm).
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 53B
BE94 116: conjectural reconstruction of the fragmentary floral motif on

BE94 116.
© J.P. Wild
29 In contrast to the Indian cotton, textiles woven exclusively from S-spun cotton and,
therefore, (on the basis of the argument advanced above) likely to have been woven in
the Nile Valley, are far less memorable. Figs 54, 55, 56, and 57 illustrate the range of
qualities in circulation. Nevertheless, they make up another 25% of the textile finds
from the late Roman town site.
Fig. 54
495
BE95 0040: fragments of cotton cloth in S-spun yarns.

© J.P. Wild
Fig. 55
BE96 0557: rectangle of medium-weight cotton cloth in S-spun yarns.

© J.P. Wild
Fig. 56
496
BE96 0536 piece of densely woven cotton cloth in S-spun yarns.

© J.P. Wild
Fig. 57
BE96 0614: strip of S/S spun cotton cloth with thick self-bands at
intervals in weft.
© J.P. Wild
30 In the hope of establishing the origin of the S-spun cottons more precisely, the present
writers went to study the Meroitic and post-Meroitic (‘X-Group’) textiles from Qasr
497
Ibrim in Lower Nubia, a town and fortress on the Nile about 180 km south of the First
Cataract on the Nile at Aswan. During the first five decades AD, almost all clothing at
Qasr Ibrim was woven from locally-grown cotton: all the yarn used was S-spun.30 We
found strong echoes there of the Berenike S-spun cotton fabrics, but major differences,
too. At Berenike there was no echo of the complex plaited Meroitic fringes of Qasr
Ibrim.31 Moreover, the blue wool brocading (Fig. 58) and blue tapestry-woven bands
(Fig. 59) on S-spun cottons at Berenike do not belong to the core Nubian tradition. One
must look perhaps for their source closer to the Roman frontier and to the zone of
immediate Roman influence. One is tempted to associate them with the so-called
‘Eastern Desert Dwellers’, often equated with the migrating Blemmyes, who had a
significant presence at Berenike in later Roman times.32
Fig. 58
BE96 0417: scrap of S/S spun cotton with remains of brocading in blue
cotton yarn.
© J.P. Wild
Fig. 59
498
BE96 0474: piece of medium-weight S/S spun cotton with two narrow
bands in green-blue cotton yarn.
© J.P. Wild
31 Most of the textiles discussed in this paper arrived at Berenike on the backs or in the
baggage of their owners. We have seen evidence for the clothing of the local garrisons
in and around the port in its earlier Roman phases. Indian sailors and merchants
seasonally resident at Berenike jettisoned their distinctive rags on the spot throughout
the site’s history. When in later years an influx took place of desert peoples from the
south, their presence can be concluded from their rubbish. All told, the textiles offer a
vivid snapshot of the port’s fluctuating population –it was an exciting, but challenging,
place to be.
Acknowledgements
32 We are grateful to Professors S.E. Sidebotham and W.Z. Wendrich for inviting us to
contribute to the work of the Berenike Project and to the Pasold Research Fund, the
Society of Antiquaries of London, the British Academy and the G.A. Wainwright Fund
for Near Eastern Archaeology for travel grants. Drs Pamela Rose and Alan Clapham very
kindly facilitated our recording and research on the textile corpus from Qasr Ibrim.
499
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W.Z. Wendrich (eds), Leiden, Research School CNWS, pp. 221-236.
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2000. “The textiles”. In Berenike 98: Report of the 1998 Excavations at
Berenike and the Survey of the Egyptian Eastern Desert including Excavations in Wâdi Kalalat.
S.E. Sidebotham and W.Z. Wendrich (eds), Leiden, Research School CNWS, pp. 251-274.
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2007. “The textiles”. In Berenike 1999/2000: report on the Excavations
at Berenike. Including Excavations in Wâdi Kalalat and Siket, and the Survey of the Mons
Smaragdus Region. S.E. Sidebotham and W.Z. Wendrich (eds), Los Angeles, Cotsen
Institute of Archaeology UCLA, pp. 225-227.
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2008a. “Early Indian cotton textiles from Berenike”. In South
Asian Archaeology 1999: Proceedings of the Fifteenth Conference of the European Association of
South Asian Archaeologists held at the Universiteit Leiden 5-9 July 1999. E.M. Raven (ed),
Groningen, Egbert Forsten, pp. 229-233.
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2008b. “Cotton: the new wool. Qasr Ibrim study season 2008”.
Archaeological Textiles Newsletter, 46, pp. 3-6.
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2014a. “Through Roman eyes: cotton textiles from early Historic
India”. In A Stitch in Time: Essays in Honour of Lise Bender Jørgensen, Gotarch Series A:
Gothenburg Archaeological Studies. S. Bergerbrant and S.H. Fossøy (eds), University of
Gothenburg, pp. 209-235.
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2014b. “Berenike and textile trade on the Indian Ocean”. In
Textile Trade and Distribution in Antiquity/Textilhandel und–distribution in der Antike,
Philippika, 73. K. Dross-Krüpe (ed), Wiesbaden, University of Marburg, pp. 91-109.
Wild J.P. and Wild F.C. 2014c. “Qasr Ibrim: new perspectives on the changing textile
cultures of Lower Nubia” In Egypt In the First Millennium AD: Perspectives from New
Fieldwork, British Museum Publications on Egypt and Sudan, 2. E.R. O’Connell (ed), Louvain,
Peeters, pp. 71-85.
Wild J.P. Wild F.C. and Clapham A. 2008. “Roman cotton revisited”. In Purpureae Vestes II:
Vestidos, Textiles y Tintes: Estudios sobre la Producción de Bienes de Consumo en la Antigüedad:
Actas del II Symposium Internacional sobre Textiles y Tintes del Mediterráneo en el Mundo
502
antiguo (Atenas, 24 al 26 de noviembre, 2005). C. Alfaro Giner and L. Karali (eds), València,
University of València, pp. 143-147.
Abbreviations
BGU VII: Vierck P. and Zucker F. (eds), 1926. Papyri, Ostraka und Wachstafeln aus
Philadelphia im Fayûm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.
P.Mich. VIII: Youtie H.C. and Winter J.G. 1951. Papyri and Ostraca from Karanis, University
of Michigan Studies, Humanistic Series 50, Ann Arbor.
Tab.Vindol. II: Bowman A.K. and Thomas J.D. 1994. The Vindolanda Writing Tablets:
Tabulae Vindolandenses II, London, British Museum.
FOOTNOTES
1. Sidebotham 2011; Sidebotham and Zych 2011; Sidebotham 2015.
2. Wild and Wild 1996; 1998; 2000; 2007; Wild 2006.
3. Bagnall, Helms and Verhoogt 2005, 4-5; cf. Sidebotham and Zych 2011, pp. 52-57.
4. Sidebotham 2011, pp. 259-282.
5. Sidebotham 2011, 280 with the bibliography.
6. Wild 2003, p. 39; Dross-Krüpe 2012, pp. 219-220.
7. Tab.Vindol. II, 346; P.Mich. VIII, 467, 468, 471, 477; Propertius, Eleg. IV, 3, l.18, l.33 (the reading
of line 34 may be relevant but the text is corrupt) (ed. Fedeli 1984).
8. Cardon, Granger-Taylor and Nowik 2011; Sheffer and Granger-Taylor 1994.
9. Batcheller 2001.
10. Cardon, Granger-Taylor and Nowik 2011, pp. 276-280.
11. Wild and Dross-Krüpe, forthcoming, for a full account of the weave and its place in Roman
textile technology.
12. Vogelsang-Eastwood 1988; Thompson 2003, 207-209; Ciszuk 2004.
13. Wild 1997.
14. Wild and Wild 2014a, pp. 211-212; Wild and Wild 2014b, 90, pp. 100-102; Sidebotham 2011,
pp. 223-229; Tomber 2008, 44-50; eadem 2012, pp. 205-206.
15. Wild and Wild 2001, pp. 214-215; Wild 2004.
16. Schoeffer, Cotta and Beentjes 1987; Wild and Wild 2001, pp. 215-217; Whitewright 2011.
17. Wild 2002.
18. Graefe 1979, pp. 121-123, Abb.133, Taf.124, 2.
19. Sidebotham and Zych 2011, p. 142, Fig. 12-57, 12-58, 12-59 with the bibliography.
20. Wild 2013.
21. Wild and Walton Rogers 2007.
22. Sumner 2012, p. 118 Fig. 19.1; cf. idem 2009, p. 109, pl. 29.
23. Nauerth 2009, p. 104 Figs 5, 6 with the bibliography.
24. Pritchard 2014, pp. 52-53; Wild and Dross-Krüpe, forthcoming.
25. Dross-Krüpe and Paetz gen. Schieck 2014; Wild and Dross-Krüpe, forthcoming.
26. Schrenk 2004, pp. 47-50.
27. Schrenk 2004, 50; on Berenike's church: Sidebotham 2011, pp. 272-275.
28. Wild and Wild 2008a, p. 231; Wild and Wild 2014a, pp. 220-221.
29. Wild and Wild 2014a, pp. 223-225.
30. Wild and Wild 2008b; Wild, Wild and Clapham 2008; Wild and Wild 2014c.
31. Crowfoot 1984.
503
32. Barnard 2008; 2013.
AUTHORS
Felicity Wild
Independent researcher
John Peter Wild

Professor Emeritus, University of Manchester (United Kingdom)
504
Pottery from the Wâdi al-

Hammâmât. Contexts and
Chronology (Excavations of the
Institut français d’archéologie
orientale 1987-1989)
Pascale Ballet
1 The Wâdi al-Hammâmât is probably one of the most striking landscapes in the Eastern
Desert (reference to the general map of the conference), due to the rugged mountain terrain
(Fig. 1-2) and because earliest evidence for quarrying activity here dates back to pre
and early dynastic times; the latter have left inscriptions of great interest (Fig. 3).1
From 1987 to 1989, the Institut français d’archéologie orientale (IFAO), directed by Annie
Gasse, examined texts inscribed on the rock walls, and cleaned the working faces to
discover new epigraphic data. The project also re-examined the installations on both
sides of the wâdi.
Fig. 1
505
The rocky environment of the Wâdi al-Hammâmât.

© P. Ballet
Fig. 2
Quarry face in greywacke.

© P. Ballet
Fig. 3
506
Offering at Min, Persian period, Couyat and Montet 1912, n ° 95.

© P. Ballet
2 This mission was successful and produced, in addition to new inscriptions, including
those of Ameny, spokesman of Sesostris I, unpublished materials about the occupation
of the site and its chronology, in part, thanks to the ceramic evidence.
3 My contribution here is modest because it relies on a relatively old and thin set of
documents. Thanks to the initiative of Jean-Pierre Brun, I unearthed a cupboard full of
drawings, notes and pottery sherd counts and although not very substantial, this folder
contains some important points relative to the overall objective of the conference and
this publication: the rhythms of occupation on this major west-east road in the Eastern
Desert, which goes from Coptos to Myos Hormos, particularly during the Imperial
period, and the activities that were organised along it.
4 To understand the aim of this contribution and the difficulty of answering the question
about the occupation of this area of the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, some elements of the local
topography should be outlined. The area in question was worked by the quarrymen
who left marks of their devotion, from the Old Kingdom to at least the time of Tiberius.
Georges Goyon found the sanctuary of Amon of the Pure Mountain there, to which we
will return.2
5 On the south side of the Wâdi of Paneion are some inscriptions, published more or less
in full by André Bernand:3 in front, to the north, the naos says “of Tiberius” which I will
discuss later on, and the Greek inscriptions on the monument, dated, mostly, from the
beginning of the Empire and published by François Kayser.4
The contexts
6 The main objectives of the mission of the IFAO directed by A. Gasse were to check the
documents from the previously published epigraphic corpus and to extend that corpus
with new elements, specifying the contexts.
7 During the 1987 campaign, on the south side, among the fifty new texts, was a long
inscription of Merenre and that of Ameny,5 published in the same BIFAO,6 which dated
to the reign of Sesostris I. The base of the rock walls, having been cleared, allowed the
study and dating of ceramics found in the debris –some were from the Late Pharaonic
Period, others were Roman– and the naos, in black shale or greywacke has an
507
inscription which dates from the reign of Tiberius. When a survey was carried out at
the back of the small chapel, pottery fragments were found that date from the New
Kingdom –but this needs confirmation.
8 This area was once identified by Georges Goyon as the sanctuary of Amon of Pa-djou-
ouab (p3-dw-w‘b), shown on the Turin Papyrus, which depicts the map of the gold mines
(Fig. 4).7 On the document interpreted by Michel Baud (Fig. 5), there are numbers
shown between brackets which match the Egyptian hieratic inscriptions, which are not
shown on this graphic document. Among the most notable elements of this document
are the Wâdi al-Hammâmât (“the road leading to Yam”), the village where gold was
worked, the mountain and its scree, and the temple of Amon. In the lower part of the
document is a second road, parallel to the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, called “the other
leading to Yam”, the Wâdi al-Qash.
Fig. 4
Papyrus of the “gold mines”, Museum of Turin.

Fig. 5
508
Simplified graphical version of the “gold mines” papyrus, Baud 1990,

fig. 1.
9 The Turin Papyrus is a document with very real aims, for the preparation of
expeditions and, in the words of Michel Baud, was, for the traveller, a marked route
through a network of dry valleys. Indications on the map correspond to topographical
realities useful for those wishing to travel to and work there. It is, therefore, not an
example of an actual map, and indeed, there is very little evidence for maps in Egypt.
10 In 19888 according to the report of activities duly recorded, “Annie Gasse looked for
new texts and removed them from the sand where necessary, while checking the texts
known or discovered in the previous year. This removal of the sand at the base of the
rock walls revealed some ceramic material of Late Period and Roman era which was
sorted and classified by Pascale Ballet” (Fig. 6). Full clearing of the naos “of Tiberius”
and the surrounding zone (Fig. 7-8), identified by Georges Goyon as “the location of the
sanctuary of Amon-master-of-the-pure-mountain” has helped uncover a group of
probable workers' houses. It constitutes a good twenty rooms or spaces divided by dry
stone walls, on each side of the greywacke chapel, furthermore it is surrounded by a
wall of the same type, the cult area thus defined as rectangular in shape. “The objects
found in this area (pottery, fragments of Greek inscriptions, ostraca) date these houses
as contemporary to the inscriptions on the naos”.9 Ceramics from the southern bank
are well-dated to the Late Pharaonic Period, and those found in the enclosed facilities
surrounding the “naos of Tiberius” to the north, are dated a priori to the first century
AD. Some sherds found at this location were selected for study since they were of great
interest to Hélène Cuvigny in 1997, who was intrigued by what was happening around
the greywacke monolith and asked me for information on the date of the ceramics
found near “the schist naos dated to Tiberius”: she then prepared an article on the
509
decline of the cult of Pan.10 At the time, I produced a short summary for her in the form
of a note, which I am presenting here, slightly modified.
Fig. 6
The sherds from the epigraphic mission of IFAO in 1988.

© P. Ballet
Fig. 7
The zone of the “naos of Tiberius”, seen towards the north.

© Ifao, A. Lecler.
Fig. 8
510
The “naos of Tiberius” and neighbouring installations.

© Ifao, P. Deleuze
Ceramics and chronology

11 Although these remarks deal primarily with the Imperial era, it is necessary to note the
presence in the debris lying at the base of walls, well documented on the south side in
particular, of a number of tangible pieces of evidence, if not from the First Persian
Domination, then at least from the end of the Late Period.
12 There are several categories of typical ceramics, in particular from the XXVII dynasty,
such as a bowl with a slightly bevelled edge and a series of jars in marl clay often with
ribbed walls (Fig. 9, 1-3), of which there are some parallels at Elephantine.11 There, in
the cave of Khnum and his consorts, protective gods from the sources of the Nile, are
texts of the Judeo-Aramaic community, written on this type of jar. The convergence of
palaeographic data and the ceramics allows us to date the texts and the containers to
the fifth century BC. In the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, the jars were probably water storage
containers for the expeditions during the last Egyptian dynasties, but it seems unwise
to attribute them only to the Persian period; here again, it is best to place them with
the ceramics of the end of the Late Period.
13 Another group consists of Sega (Fig. 9, 4-5), which are keg-barrels, so characteristic of
the western oases, from Bahariya to Kharga. The pottery fabric is like that of Kharga
and Dakhla: the external surface of the containers has coarse traces of smoothing and
over-firing. Dates, wine, oil were the products of the western oases carried towards the
Nile Valley and its forking towards the eastern territories, from the time of the New
Kingdom. Some of them come with a rather high collar, a generally attested
morphological feature from the Late Period to the very beginning of the Ptolemaic era.
12
Fig. 9
511
Wâdi al-Hammâmât. Ceramics of the Late Period and Ptolemaic Period.

© Drawing P. Ballet; infography Kh. Zaza and A. Simony
14 In the opinion of the authors of La Route de Myos Hormos,13 “the evidence for traffic on
the road and its organization in the Ptolemaic period is rare”. Can we bring new
elements confirming this general observation based on various comments? An
amphora with a triangular base (WH/1988.C6) (Fig. 9, 6) of the type “with a mushroom
lip” from the southern Aegean deserves to be reported: it is somewhat later than our
lot from the Late Pharaonic Period because it is dated to the beginning of the third
century BC by Kaan Şenol. It does not come from the workers’ settlements close to the
naos of Tiberius, but instead from one of the layers which comprises a small facility on
the southern slope of the wâdi with traces of “domestic” or “culinary” use near the M
de Goyon sector (No. 2 on the plan of the wâdi produced by Goyon). In 1988, a survey
documented a cooking structure like a “bread oven” and a series of ash layers mainly
comprising ceramic remains characteristic of the Late Pharaonic Period, as reported
earlier. Kaan Şenol14 commented: “Your amphora foot from Wadi Hammamat belongs
to a common form of South Aegean amphorae. For me your amphora is an earlier
version of the Nicandros group of amphorae due to the characteristics of its fabric. In
any case the early third century BC seems more likely”. (Information K. Şenol, March
24, 2016). I wonder if it could be dated to the fourth century BC, which would match all
the ceramics from this context, whose features resemble those of the last Egyptian
dynasties.
15 Nevertheless, apart from this early indication, some ceramics of the late Ptolemaic
period were identified, in room 17 in particular, one of the rooms that surrounded the
“naos of Tiberius”. The context of room 17 is interesting in that it comprises, amongst
others, three ceramics: two carinated bowls and a convex bowl (WH/1988.C61, WH/
512
1988.C 51 WH/1988.C52) (Fig. 9, 7-9) which morphologically predate the Roman features
and, more precisely, are datable to the end of the Ptolemaic period.
16 Convex bowl WH/1988.C52 (Fig. 9, 9), with a coarse alluvial fabric, is quite close to an
example at Tebtynis15 from a context dated to the second half of the first century BC
and which has similarities with flared convex Eastern Sigillata (ES) A bowls (Tell Anafa
TA Type 25); the shape of the foot is similar to Hellenistic forms. Indeed, the bowls of
Eastern Sigillata A, and their imitations from Fayoum, which are contemporary to them,
or perhaps a little later, have a different footing, with a well-defined base.
17 However, apart from these three vessels, the rest of the material present in room 17 is
early Roman, including a jug WH/1988.C 55, certainly Roman, a very common type in
the Eastern Desert (Fig. 10, 1),16 and amphora WH/1988.C54 (Fig. 9, 10) with the
shoulder offset and which can be placed in the group Egyptian Amphora 4; these are first
seen in Egypt from the second half of the first century BC.17 We thus note the relative
heterogeneity of the assemblage summarised here.
Fig. 10
Wâdi al-Hammâmât. Ceramics of the Early Roman Empire.

© drawings P. Ballet, infography Khaza Zaza and A. Simony
The Early Roman Empire

18 The ceramics dated from the Roman period were mostly found in the quarry workers’
houses or shelters18 surrounding the “naos of Tiberius”.
19 Here we will identify the main elements of the ceramics identified in these areas, in
order to clarify dating.
Water vases, a regional production
513
20 Many of the containers, probably for water, manufactured regionally, attested from
Thebes to Coptos, have parallels in the Musée des Beaux-Arts (Lyon). They were
distributed in the Eastern Desert, from the Wâdi al-Hammâmât to Mons Claudianus,19
and are one of the most common productions in this region.20 This pottery has a
limestone-rich fabric, and is fitted with a filter (WH/1988.C55) (Fig. 10, 1); we can trace
this type to Yemen21 in contexts of the Early Roman Empire. They are long lived, from
the first to third century AD; only a detailed study from stratified, dated levels would
clarify their typology. The repertoire of water vases includes a number of slightly
different forms, such as a jug with one handle (WH/1988.C15, house/room 9) (Fig. 10, 2)
which is similar to example B55 from Krokodilô.22
Cooking wares
21 A second set of pottery vessels consists of cooking wares: cooking pots and “casseroles”
which are difficult to date precisely, but I am tempted to date them to around the first
century BC or AD, although I do not have any other well-dated parallels.
22 One of them (WH/1988.C53, house/room 22) (Fig. 10, 3) seems to fit in with the
continuity of “cooking pots with everted rims” which have their origins in Alexandria
at the end of the third and second centuries BC, and whose morphology gradually
evolves up to the beginning of the Early Roman Empire. It is similar to an example at
Al-Zarqâ’/Maximianon where, apart from some early individuals from the late first
century BC and the beginning of the first century AD, the majority of the pottery dates
between the middle of the first and the end of the second century AD.23 Other types,
such as the pan WH/1988.C50 (room 8) (Fig. 10, 4), appear to experience some
longevity, since a parallel was found at Mons Claudianus from the Antonine period.24
Finewares
23 Looking at the most important finewares –those useful for establishing a tighter
chronology– we will begin with the importations.
24 Among non-Egyptian finewares, despite the lack of Italian sigillata, there is some
Eastern Sigillata, which provides useful benchmarks.
25 Plate WH/1988.C48 (room 18, workers dwellings near the “naos of Tiberius”) (Fig. 10, 5),
25
well attested in contexts at Tell Anafa, is generally dated to the Claudian-Neronian
period, which corresponds to contexts highlighted the Atlante II. This type, well-
distributed in Syria-Palestine, is also found in Corinth and Pompeii. There have long
been numerous discussions on the date of this type of bowl: Kenyon and Crowfoot
proposing a date prior to 25 BC, which was clearly contradicted by the findings at Tell
Anafa, as well as the opinion of K. Slane. This form was distributed to some extent in
the Mediterranean towards the middle and third quarter of the first century AD.
26 Bowl WH/1988.C16 (room 6, workers dwelling near the “naos of Tiberius”) (Fig. 10, 6),26
although represented in Greece and the eastern Mediterranean, has no parallels in
Pompeii, and is dated to the same period, between AD 40 and 70.
27 The start of production of bowl WH/1988.C73 (room 22, workers dwelling, near the
“naos of Tiberius”) (Fig. 10, 7) is slightly earlier (AD 10-60/70); it is morphologically
similar to ES type A4727 itself probably derived from an Italic-type (Conspectus, forms 17,
22, 25).
28 At the end of the 1980s the question about the origin of these three examples arose, and
the ceramics laboratory in Lyon examined them, confirming their link with eastern
514
productions (almost certainly the region of Antioch, but they also shared common
characteristics with productions at Pamphylia and Cyprus).28 At least with regard to
Egypt and neighbouring regions, these were the first investigations looking at the
origin and dissemination of glazed finewares in the eastern Mediterranean, the Red Sea
and the Indian Ocean.
29 Present in small amounts in these makeshift dwellings at Wâdi al-Hammâmât, these
sigillata are not devoid of interest chronologically as they provide anchor points during
the first century AD. If one refers to the ceramics found in the backfill of the Kaisareion
at Alexandria (second half of the first century BC), the characteristics of the imported
ceramics and in particular to the Eastern Sigillata A, those at Alexandria, are totally
different, in that they are earlier.29
The Aswan production
30 The pottery from Aswan, with a kaolinite fabric, found in the homes of the workers,
clarifies the chronology of that sector.
31 A bowl with a low carination, Aswan WH/1988.C68 (room 5, workers dwellings near the
“naos of Tiberius”) (Fig. 10, 8) could be derived from carinated Hellenistic bowls which
probably prefigure the Italian sigillata types dated from the middle of the Augustan
period.30 It is, therefore, an important indication of a relatively early date for its
circulation in Wâdi al-Hammâmât, compared to other establishments spaced out on the
road from Coptos to Myos Hormos.
32 Collared-rim bowl Aswan WH/1988.C 67 (room 4, workers dwellings near the “naos of
Tiberius”) (Fig. 10, 9) reproduces a form that is widespread throughout the
Mediterranean world, similar to Eastern Sigillata A examples, such as Tell Anafa TA 34.31
This generic form, of which only the eastern references will be cited here, was also
adapted for the Cypriot typology (Tell Anafa, FW 564), just as our Aswan copy must
have been, in the workshops of the First Cataract. Tell Anafa TA type 34 has three
variants: a, b, c. The variant ES A TA 34 was clearly and directly inspired by Conspectus
22, and can be dated from the first century AD.
Earthenware tableware
33 Illustrated by a collar-rimmed cup (WH/1988.C60) (Fig. 10, 10) and a platter with a low
carination (WH/1988.C69) (Fig. 10, 11), respectively Nenna-Seif el-Din T1 2.4 and
Nenna-Seif el-Din T13.3,32 earthenware containers are represented here by the most
conventional forms known of this type of tableware during the first two centuries of
the Roman Empire, and even up to the early third century AD. Since these two
containers attest the relatively careful formation of this type, with thin walls and well-
defined mouldings, one might suggest that these are earlier, compared to examples
that are thicker and a little later in date, but that remains a hypothesis.
The amphorae
34 As for the amphorae belonging to a large group of Egyptian Amphora 3, one example
from Wâdi al-Hammâmât (WH/1988.C24, dwelling 2) seems to be dated relatively early
in the “Roman” history of these types of containers. We compare it to the AE 3-1.1,
variant A,33 used in the first century, perhaps even the first half. This type, with an
upright rim and a rounded handle under the shoulder, which can be linked amphora
WH/1988.C24 (Fig. 10, 12), precedes that of an example at Al-Zarqâ’/Maximianon.34 Its
maximum diameter is halfway down the body, and the whole forms the shape of a
spinning-top. This morphological feature, which marks a milestone in the evolution of
515
container AE 3 is not quite achieved on amphora WH/1988.C24, whose body is still in

line with the types from the end of the Hellenistic period, with the semblance of a
shoulder. If a pattern of morphological evolution for form AE 3 may be proposed for the
first two centuries of the Roman Empire, we should also note the presence of a type still
formed with a shoulder on the spinning-top shaped body, the shoulder itself having
totally disappeared.
35 Assuming a probable common origin –at least the same regional production area– for
alluvial amphora AE 3 from the Eastern Desert, from the Wâdi al-Hammâmât to Al-
Zarqâ’/Maximianon35 and Mons Claudianus and probably other centres on the road to
Myos Hormos, a detailed study of the morphology of these containers should allow us
to understand the relevant evolutions and regional variants.
Conclusion
36 If ceramic evidence dating from the reign of Tiberius is absent from sectors close to the
“naos” there is, however, some convergence of dating, which suggests the occupation
of workers’ dwellings near the “naos of Tiberius” generally covered the first century
AD, with some anchor points around the reigns of Claudius and Nero. This is consistent
with the epigraphic data studied by François Kaiser, which states that proskynema and
signatures covering the surface of the greywacke monolith fall within a relatively tight
timeline between ca. AD 14 and 67-68 36 with the texts on ostraca collected during the
1987-1989 IFAO mission being dated generally to the first century AD.37
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itinéraire d’expédition”, BIFAO 90, pp. 51-63.
Bernand A. 1972. De Koptos à Kosseir, Leiden.
Bloxam E., Harrell J., Kelany A., Moloney N., el-Senussi A. and Tohamey A. 2014.
“Investigating the Predynastic origins of greywacke working in the Wadi Hammamat”.
Archéo-Nil. Prédynastique et premières dynasties égyptiennes. Nouvelles perspectives de
recherches 24, pp. 11-30.
Brun J.-P. 1994. “Le faciès céramique d’Al-Zerqa. Observations préliminaires”, BIFAO 94,
pp. 7-26.
Coptos 2000, Exposition Coptos. L’Égypte antique aux portes du désert, Lyon, Musée des
Beaux-Arts, 3 février-7 mars 2000, Lyon.
Couyat J., Montet P. 1912. Les inscriptions hiéroglyphiques et hiératiques du Ouâdi
Hammâmât, MIFAO 34.
Cuvigny H. 1997. “Le crépuscule d’un dieu : le déclin du culte de Pan dans le désert
Oriental”. BIFAO 97, pp. 139-147.
Cuvigny H. (ed.) and alii. 2003. La route de Myos Hormos. L’armée romaine dans le désert
oriental d’Égypte. Praesidia du désert de Bérénice I, FIFAO 48.
Dixneuf D. 2011. Amphores égyptiennes : production, typologie, contenu et diffusion (IIIe siècle
av. J.-C.- IXe siècle apr. J.-C.), Études Alexandrines 22, Cairo.
Élaigne S. 2017. “Alexandrie, cinéma Majestic. Étude céramologique du remblai
117/119. Les importations”. In Alexandrie, Césaréum. Les fouilles du cinéma Majestic. La
consommation céramique en milieu urbain à la fin de l’époque hellénistique. J.-Y. Empereur,
P. Ballet, S. Élaigne, P. Rifa, K. and G. Şenol (ed.), Études Alexandrines 38, pp. 121-186.
Gasse A. 1988. “Amény, un porte-parole sous le règne de Sésostris Ier”. BIFAO 88,
pp. 83-94.
Gasse A. 2012. “Wadi Hammamat and the Sea froms the Origins to the End of the New
Kingdom”. In The Red Sea in the Pharaonic Times. Recent Discoveries along the Red Sea Coast.
P. Tallet et E.S. Mahfouz (ed.), Proceedings of the Colloquium held in Cairo/Ayn
Soukhna 11th-12th January 2009, BdE 155, pp. 133-143.
Goudineau Chr. 1968. La céramique arétine lisse, Paris.
Goyon G. 1949. “Le papyrus de Turin dit 'des mines d’or' et le Wadi Hammamat”, ASAE
49, pp. 337-392.
Goyon G. 1957. Nouvelles inscriptions rupestres du Wadi Hammamat, Paris.
Kayser Fr. 1993. “Nouveaux textes grecs du Ouadi Hammamat”. ZPE 98, pp. 111-156.
Nenna M.D., Seif el-Din M. 2000. La vaisselle en faïence d’époque gréco-romaine : catalogue du
Musée gréco-romain d’Alexandrie, Études Alexandrines 4, Cairo.
Slane K.W. 1997. “The Fine Wares”. In Tel Anafa II.i, The Hellenistic and Roman Pottery.
S.C. Herbert (ed.), JRA Suppl. 10, pp. 247-418.
517
Tomber R. 2006. “The Pottery”. In Survey and Excavations. Mons Claudianus 1987-1993 III,
Ceramic, Vessels and Related Objects from Mons Claudianus. V.A. Maxfield / D.P.S. Peacock
(ed.), FIFAO 54, Cairo, pp. 1-236.
FOOTNOTES
1. Bloxam et al. 2014; Couyat and Montet 1912.
2. Goyon 1957.
3. Bernand 1972.
4. Kayser 1993.
5. Cf. “K. Mission épigraphique au Wadi Hammamat” in "Travaux de l’Ifao en 1987-1988",
BIFAO 88, 1988, pp. 205-206.
6. Gasse 1988, pp. 83-94.
7. Goyon 1949; Goyon 1957; Baud 1990; Gasse 2012, pp. 138-140.
8. BIFAO 89, 1989, pp. 313-315.
9. BIFAO 1989, fig. 19, p. 314, p. 326; for a presentation of the Wâdi al-Hammâmât, from the
origin to the New Kingdom; Gasse 2012.
10. Cuvigny 1997.
11. Aston 1999, n° 2038, n° 2041, pl. 72; Ballet 2006, p. 107-116, pl. 5-7.
12. S. Marchand, “Les siga des Oasis datées de la XXVII e-XXIXe dynastie et de l’époque
ptolémaïque ancienne trouvées à ʽAyn Manâwir (oasis de Kharga) et à Tebtynis (Fayoum) ”, CCE 6,
2000, p. 221-225; P. Ballet, “And the potsherds? some avenues of reflection and synthesis on the
pottery of the Great Oasis”, R.S. Bagnall and G. Tallet (eds), Oasis Magna: Kharga and Dakhla Oases in
Antiquity, 19-20 septembre 2014, Institute for the Study of the Ancien World, New York
University, New York, in press; P. Ballet, in collaboration with Y. Chevalier and M. Evina, “De
Douch à El-Deir : Approches des faciès céramiques dans l’Oasis de Kharga”, CCE 11, forthcoming.
13. Cuvigny 2003, p. 191.
14. Université d’Égée, Izmir.
15. Ballet et Południkiewicz 2012, n° 34, inv. 3037-6.
16. Ballet 1996, fig. 8; Ballet 1998, fig. 8; cf. infra: water vases, a regional production.
17. Dixneuf 2011, pp. 129-133.
18. These rooms were numbered and have the initials m. (maison=dwelling) or p. (pièce=room).
19. Tomber 2006, pp. 64-67.
20. Coptos 2000, cat. 143, pp. 176-177.
21. Ballet 1998, p. 49.
22. Cuvigny 2003, p. 198, règne de Trajan et/ou d’Hadrien ?
23. Brun 1994, C52.
24. Tomber 2006, type 66, p. 116, fig. 1.45.
25. Atlante delle forme ceramiche II, ES A type 35, AD 40-70, p. 30, pl. V, 7; Slane 1997,
pp. 307-308, Tell Anafa Type 23 (FW 175; similar to Conspectus 18.2).
26. Atlante delle forme ceramiche II, ES A, type 48, 40-70 apr. J.-C., p. 36, pl. VI, 16.
27. Atlante delle forme ceramiche II, ES A, type 47, 10-60/70, p. 35, pl. VI, 15.
28. Personal communication M. Picon.
29. Élaigne, 2017.
30. Conspectus form 13; Goudineau type 7 Atlante II, p. 196, pl. LVI, 15-17, 25/20 BC – AD 15 or
Goudineau 18, 24 Atlante II, p. 196, pl. LVI, 18, pl. LVII, 1-3.
31. Slane 1997, pp. 324-328.
518
32. Nenna, Seif el-Din 2000.

33. Dixneuf 2011; Gabbari, US 30561, fig. 31.
34. Brun 1994, fig. 12.
35. Brun 1994, p. 23. The range of dates of Al-Zarqâ’ is relatively wide, from the middle of the
first century to the end of the second.
36. Kayser 1993, p. 114.
37. Kayser 1993, p. 128.
AUTHOR
Pascale Ballet
ArScAn (UMR 7041), Paris Nanterre
519
Quarries, Ports and Praesidia: Supply

and Exchange in the Eastern Desert
Roberta Tomber
Introduction
1 This paper provides an overview of the ceramic evidence from four key sites in the
Eastern Desert: the quarries of Mons Claudianus and of Porphyrites,1 and the ports of
Myos Hormos (Qusayr al-Qadim) and Berenike. Other sites are referred to peripherally
and provide valuable comparanda. Assemblage comparison will question how site
function influences pottery supply and, from this, examine how pottery from the
Eastern Desert can be used to separate and better understand internal and external
trade and exchange networks.
The construction of a dated typology for the Eastern

Desert: key deposits
2 Fundamental to the use of pottery to investigate supply and trade was the construction
of a dated ceramic typology for the Eastern Desert that was initiated by the work at
Mons Claudianus and developed through selected key deposits at the other sites.
Mons Claudianus (Conducted by the Institut français d’archéologie

orientale under the direction of J. Bingen, 1987-1993)
3 Mons Claudianus was exceptional, even within standards of Egyptian archaeology, for
its large number of ostraka. Of the over 9000 retrieved, c. 220 (J. Bingen, H. Cuvigny and
V. Maxfield, personal communication) included a regnal date so that their occurrence
in conjunction with occasional coins and inscriptions provided a framework for
constructing a dated pottery sequence. Mons Claudianus and the nearby Hydreuma
were occupied between the mid-1st and early 3rd centuries AD, the evidence for which is
520
outlined in detail by Maxfield and Peacock (2001, pp. 423-455) and Tomber (2006,
pp. 194-196) with particular deposits strategic for characterising changes in ceramic
typology. The deposits mentioned in the paragraph below do not include all the
excavated areas for each period, but the most homogeneous ones for which
quantification was published (Tomber 2006, pp. 218-236; for a description of the
deposits see Maxfield and Peacock 2001, passim).
4 A horizon starting in the mid-1st century was established from two sebakh: the North-
West (dated by an ostrakon of AD 68) and South-West ones at the nearby Hydreuma,
while from the main fort site, deposits of the Trajanic, Late Hadrianic, Antonine and
Severan could be isolated. The Trajanic period is represented by the lower levels of the
largest excavated feature, the South Sebakh. Its exceptional preservation, including
organic finds, but extending to the pottery, resulted in a good understanding of
Trajanic pottery forms. The upper levels of this sebakh, however, were reworked during
the Antonine period; these layers seemed to contain primarily Trajanic pottery with
the addition of some vessels that were identified as Antonine in date. The pottery from
the reworked layers was, therefore, separated as Trajanic+. Late Hadrianic pottery
types were characterised from a number of deposits, including Annexe South I Room 1;
Antonine ones from Fort West I Room 1, Fort South-East Room 1, and Fort North-East
Sebakh with another sebakh from the satellite site at Barud. Early Severan levels were
characterised by the sebakh from Fort South-East Room 4. The latest of the Severan
dates –AD 222/235– came from a single ostrakon at the main gate (Maxfield and Peacock
2001, p. 433).2 In practise, there are many similarities between the Late Hadrianic
through Severan deposits and when generalising beyond Mons Claudianus a ceramic
horizon that encompasses the mid/late 2nd through early 3 rd century has wider
application.
Porphyrites (Conducted by the Universities of Southampton and

Exeter under the direction of D.P.S. Peacock and V.A. Maxfield,
1994-1998)
5 Deposits from Porphyrites spanned the period between the early 1st and the early
5th centuries AD (Tomber 2001, pp. 242-243) and, thus, extended the sequence
established at Mons Claudianus in both directions. A Pan-Min inscription from
Bradford Village dated to AD 18 (Van Rengen 1995, 2001, pp. 60-62) allowed the
identification of early 1st century pottery types (Tomber 2005) that could be paralleled
to types found at Foot Village. The pottery of many sebakh and other deposits
surrounding the main fort complex contained ceramic markers of the second half of
the 2nd century (Tomber 2007). These deposits included the East Sebakh, interpreted as
the discard from a bakery that contained 211 generally complete ostraka relating to the
supply of bread to the villages and quarry outposts. The palaeography of these ostraka
indicates a date of the late first half of the 3rd century (Van Rengen 2007, pp. 409-411).
Extending slightly beyond the Severan deposits from Mons Claudianus, it suggests that
many later 2nd century ceramic types represented in the East Sebakh and more widely at
Porphyrites continued into the 3rd century. An additional horizon, the characterisation
of late 4th/early 5th century pottery deposits, relied primarily on well-known imported
Mediterranean types.
521
Myos Hormos/Qusayr al-Qadim (Conducted by the University of

Southampton under the direction of D.P.S. Peacock and L. Blue,
1999-2003)
6 The excavated site sequence from Myos Hormos ranged from the late 1st century BC
into the c. mid-3rd century AD (Peacock and Blue 2006, p. 174). Several Ptolemaic coins
(Peacock 2011 [3]; Sidebotham 2011 [1]) and rare ceramic pieces suggest that the site
was founded earlier, but Ptolemaic levels were most likely located beneath the water
table adjacent to the wharf where excavation was not possible. Above the water table,
extensive excavation took place on the wharf and quay-side area that produced large
deposits of the late Augustan period (late 1st century BC/early 1st century AD). In
addition, a sequence of sebakh deposits (Tomber 2000, p. 54) provided ceramic
assemblages for the early 1st century (Trenches 6A, 6B, 6C, Van Rengen and Thomas
2006, p. 147), late 1st/early 2nd century (Trenches 6D, 6E, Van Rengen and Thomas 2006,
p. 147) and from the mid-2nd into the 3 rd century AD (Trenches 6G, 6H, 6J, Van Rengen
and Thomas 2006, p. 149). A date at least to the mid-3rd century was further indicated
by the presence of flat-bottomed amphorae/Dressel 30 from North Africa (Tunisia)
(Tomber 2005, p. 154; see also Tomber 2007, p. 178 for additional discussion) that date
generally to the 3rd and 4th centuries (Bonifay 2004, pp. 148-151). The 3rd century date is
reinforced by a corresponding lack of 4th century pottery at Myos Hormos, and the
mid-3rd century date indicated by the lack of Dressel 30 at Mons Claudianus.
Berenike (Conducted by the Universities of Delaware, Leiden, UCLA

and Warsaw/Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology under the
direction of S. Sidebotham, W. Wendrich and I. Zych, 1994-2015)
7 Of the two ports, Berenike had the longer sequence, with deposits ranging between the
3rd century BC and the early 6th century AD. The complexity of the 112 excavated
trenches makes it difficult to summarise those most significant for the pottery
chronology. However, an extensive Early Roman sebakh, covering much of the area to
the north-west of the so-called “Serapis” (now called “Great”) temple (Barnard and
Wendrich 2007, p. 15) produced rich assemblages of ostraka (Bagnall et al. 2000, 2005;
Ast and Bagnall 2016), ceramics and all categories of finds dating into the third quarter
of the 1st century AD. Late Roman sebakh were also present, although more limited in
extent than the early Roman one: Trench 21 (Sidebotham 2000, pp. 120-134) and Trench
59 (Sidebotham and Zych 2012, p. 140) both provided important 5th century deposits.
Other assemblages from Berenike related to buildings, on occasion producing well-
dated in-situ groups, with the “Harbor temple” exceptional for occupation spanning
throughout the Late Roman period (Ibid., pp. 141-144).
A selection of key ceramic markers for the Eastern

Desert
8 The study of pottery within its stratigraphic context has allowed the dating of
numerous ceramic types from all ware groups. Inevitably, and particularly amongst
Egyptian ceramics, where tradition was very long-lived, many types are current for
522
decades and centuries. Others, however, are typical of a specific period with their
initial occurrence particularly diagnostic. Certain moments in the sequence exhibit a
cluster of diagnostic markers and these are: between the early and late 1st century;
between the early and mid-2nd century and from the late 4th century onwards.
9 Spouted strainers (Fig. 1) are a typically Egyptian form. The earliest Roman ones
identified from the Eastern Desert are characterised by a ledge-rim and occur from the
early 1st century AD; by the late 1st century AD/Trajanic period, the ledge has evolved to
a strainer covering the entire aperture (Tomber 2006, p. 64), although since the strainer
has frequently been chipped away, it suggests that it was not fit for purpose. The
strainer is used throughout the Late Roman period, when a funnel neck is most
common (e.g. Tomber 2001, p. 250, Fig. 6.2, no. 22).
Fig. 1
Spouted strainers from Mons Claudianus (Tomber 2006, Fig. 1.24).

© R. Tomber
10 Costrels (Fig. 2) are particularly useful as they first appear in the Antonine period at
Mons Claudianus (Tomber 2006, p. 67), a trend that is repeated at Porphyrites, Myos
Hormos and Berenike, as well as on the Myos Hormos-Coptos road (Brun 2003, p. 504).
Their significance extends beyond their utility as chronological markers, for these
vessels were clearly used as small transport containers. Like amphorae, many originally
had stoppers and/or a dark lining inside that may derive from either plants or minerals
(Fig. 3). In the case of amphorae a lined interior is normally associated with wine, the
very limited evidence from costrels also associates them with fish products, although
this could be a secondary use.
Fig. 2
523
Costrels from Porphyrites (Tomber 2007b, Fig. 6.5).

© R. Tomber
Fig. 3
Costrels from Myos Hormos with intact stoppers.

© R. Tomber
524
11 One lined costrel from Mons Claudianus was found with Nilotic fish used to make
salsamentum (Van Neer et al. 2006, Fig. 2 where the images are inverted; Tomber 2006,
p. 67), while at Myos Hormos a similar deposit of fish bones, apparently discarded from
a container, was identified (Van Neer et al. 2006; Tomber 2006, p. 67). A third Nilotic fish
bone assemblage, for a fish product but not necessarily salsamentum, was found in a
fragment of lined Nile clay amphora, also from Mons Claudianus (Van Neer et al. 2006).
Although the correlation between the Nilotic fish bones and the costrel is tenuous at
Mons Claudianus, a well-documented example comes from Petra where a late 4th/early
5th century costrel contained Red Sea fish sauce –either garum or hallec (Studer 1994).
12 Rarely, costrels, like amphorae, had an inscription on their shoulder. Examples from
Myos Hormos are shown on Fig. 4, left: O.636 ΤΝθ reading the number 359; middle: O.
578 with a fragmentary Κ under the handle and an illegible dipinto on the shoulder;
right: (no registration number) ΛΜ, possibly the name Am(monios) or a variant (W. Van
Rengen, personal communication).
Fig. 4
Costrels from Myos Hormos with shoulder inscriptions.

© R. Tomber
13 Aswan Thin-walled wares occur at Mons Claudianus throughout the entire sequence,
but their decoration varies within this period. The earlier examples, most common
through the Trajanic period, are characterised by barbotine decoration (Fig. 5), while
painted decoration, on a different range of forms, is first present from the late
Hadrianic period (Fig. 6; Tomber 2006, pp. 25-26).
Fig. 5
525
Aswan Thin-walled wares from Mons Claudianus with barbotine

decoration (Tomber 2006, Fig. 1.7).
© R. Tomber
Fig. 6
Aswan Thin-walled wares from Porphyrites with painted decoration

(Tomber 2007b, Fig. 6.1).
526
© R. Tomber
14 Many cooking ware cooking pot and casserole forms are long-lived, but from the
mid-2nd century onwards ribbed vessels predominate; thin walls are also characteristic
(Fig. 7; Tomber 2006, pp. 203-204). This tendency for ribbing continues throughout the
Late Roman period and while more precision is needed regarding their end date, the
types shown on Fig. 7 may well continue at least into the 4th century (Tomber 2001,
p. 243).
Fig. 7
Second century cooking pots and casseroles from Porphyrites (Tomber

2007b, from Figs 6.7 and 6.10).
© R. Tomber
15 Ribbed marl dishes (Fig. 8), sometimes thin enough to fall into a thin-walled category,
were first identified at Porphyrites where they were sparse, but a mid-2nd century and
later date is proposed (Tomber 2007, p. 195). The occurrence in Late Roman deposits at
Berenike may indicate that they continued in use, or alternatively they are residual in
Late Roman deposits.
Fig. 8
527
Ribbed marl dishes from Porphyrites (Tomber 2007b, from Fig. 6.9). The
red-painted inscription on no. 101 reads ]εις Ψεν[ (]eis Psen[).3
© R. Tomber
16 The evolution of Amphore Égyptienne 3 (AE3) has been discussed elsewhere (Tomber
2007a). Of the AE3, the distinction between those with plain and ribbed walls is
significant –for although those with ribbing may occur from the earliest 1st century,
they increase substantially from the Antonine period (Fig. 9; Tomber 2006, p. 205 and
table 1.15). The lack of ribbed AE3 amphorae and other classic 2nd century types from
Berenike, in contrast to Myos Hormos, suggests that this port was more active than
Berenike during the 2nd century. Elsewhere in the Eastern Desert, a good assemblage of
2nd/3rd century pottery, and particularly the African Dressel 30 (Fig. 10; also see above),
has been recognised at the emerald working site of Kab Marfu’a (Mons Smaragdus
region) (Figs 11-12). From the late 4th century onwards, smaller Nile clay amphorae are
characteristic (Fig. 13).
Fig. 9
528
Second century Nile clay amphorae from Mons Claudianus and Myos
Hormos (Tomber 2007a, Fig. 3).
© R. Tomber
Fig. 10
Dressel 30 amphorae from Myos Hormos and Kab Marfu’a (Tomber 2009,
Fig. 2).
529
© R. Tomber
Fig. 11
Dressel 30 rim fragments from Kab Marfu’a.

© R. Tomber
Fig. 12
Dressel 30 handle fragments from Kab Marfu’a.

© R. Tomber
Fig. 13
530
Late Roman Nile clay amphorae from Porphyrites (Tomber 2007b,

Fig. 6.13).
© R. Tomber
17 There is still much to learn about mid-3rd to mid-4th century assemblages, which appear
to be only sparsely represented at Berenike. Some types continue from the late 2nd
early/3rd century horizon, such as the tall Egyptian amphora base, and imported
amphorae, including African forms and the hollow-foot vessel (Kapitän 2). Another
possible marker for the later 3rd century or early 4th century may be Sasanian turquoise
glazed wares from Mesopotamia (Kennet 2004, pp. 21-31). From the late 4th century
onwards deposits are frequently well-dated by their imports. Of the four sites, only
Berenike was occupied after the early 5th century and the absence of Late Roman
Amphora 2 and Phocean Red Slip ware, and later forms of African Red Slip and Cypriot
Red Slip wares, all indicate that occupation did not extend beyond the early 6th century.
Assemblage comparison
18 At Mons Claudianus amphorae represent 40%, 68%, 70%, 73% and 76% (x2) of the total
ceramic assemblage respectively for the six dated horizons (Tomber 2006, table 1.4).
This is expected given that most liquids would have reached the site in amphorae,
supplemented by other small vessels, such as costrels and, likely, leather containers.
The relatively low percentage of 40% derives from the Hydreuma assemblage and may
relate to the short-lived occupation at that site. Elsewhere, at the ports (Hayes 1996,
tables 6-1, 6-5, 6-6; Tomber 1999, table 5-1; Tomber in press b; Tomber unpublished), on
the Coptos-Myos Hormos (Krokodilô/al-Muwayh, Maximianon/al-Zarqâ) and the
Coptos-Berenike (Didymoi/Khashm al-Minayh) roads (Brun 2003, 2007) amphorae
account for similarly high, or sometimes higher, percentage of the total assemblage.4
19 Most amphorae belong to Egyptian types with imported ones comprising a much
smaller portion of the amphora assemblage. Imported ones may represent goods of
531
higher quality and status, although Brun (2007, p. 522), quoting Athenaeus of Naukratis,
argues that some Egyptian wines warrant praise (in addition to the Mareotic ones that
are accepted as being valued). It is amongst imported amphorae that the greatest
differences can be noted between ports, quarries and roadside sites (table 1).
20 At Mons Claudianus a wide range of types is present, not dissimilar to the variety found
at Mediterranean ports of the same period (Fig. 14; Tomber 1996), yet they occur very
sparsely, accounting for only between 1.0-2.5% (Tomber 2006, table 1.14). Fewer
imported amphora types were recorded from Porphyrites –partly due to the lack of
excavated 1st century deposits, but a range was present, especially during the Late
Roman period when LR Amphora 1 (Cilicia/Cyprus) and LR Amphora 4 (Gaza) were
present (Tomber 2001, p. 244). At the praesidia similarly small assemblages are present
with 1-2% imported (Brun 2007).
Fig. 14
Imported amphorae at Mons Claudianus (Tomber 1996, pp. 43-45, Fig. 3,

annotated by V.A. Maxfield).
© R. Tomber
21 Not surprisingly, the ports of Berenike and Myos Hormos, situated to facilitate trade
with the East, have a much more extensive range of types, in part reflecting their
chronologically extended sequences, but also occurring in greater quantity (table 1).
Although in certain deposits imports account for only c. 4-5% of the assemblage, it is
not unusual to see them in greater quantities, up to 15%, or during the Late Roman
period, as high as 45%.5 The wide variability between deposits, although always greater
than for other site types, emphasises the importance of also evaluating function on a
deposit by deposit basis.
22 Overall, however, the higher amounts from the ports reflect site function where
amphorae served for both consumption and export, in contrast to the quarries where
supply was entirely for consumption. Amphorae discarded at the praesidia would also
have contained commodities consumed there, although the goods destined for Myos
Hormos and Berenike would have travelled through them.
532
23 Coptos was the river port and principal node for all transactions moving across the
Eastern Desert and to the Red Sea throughout much of the Roman period, yet its
amphora assemblages contrast with those from the Red Sea ports. Varying throughout
its long sequence, the total amphorae from Roman deposits reaches only c. 32%
(Herbert and Berlin 2003, p. 134), while imports comprise between 1% and 27% of the
total amphorae in the Roman phases R1a (27%), R1b (11%), R2 (2%), R3 (1%), R4 (2%)
(Lawall 2003, p. 159, table 1).6 As Lawall has already argued, discrepancies between
Coptos and Berenike reflect their different functions within the commerce of Egypt and
the lack of exact chronological equivalencies, particularly relevant for R1b (late 1st BC/
1st c. AD) (Lawall 2003, pp. 159-160).
24 The regularity of supply is a significant factor that can influence relative percentages of
different ware types, yet is extremely difficult to assess. Shortage of supply, amongst
other factors, is one explanation for the presence of reworked pottery at Mons
Claudianus and, to a lesser extent, Porphyrites (Tomber 2011) and the way stations (J.-
P. Brun, personal communication), but absent at the ports. It suggests that the supply
of table and cooking wares to the quarries was limited, particularly at Mons Claudianus
from the 2nd century onwards. Amphorae, as the containers of foodstuffs, continued to
be regularly supplied and, therefore, were plentiful and could be resized to serve other
vessel functions. By their nature, the ports received a regular supply of all types of
ceramics.
25 Amphorae from the Red Sea ports catered for both consumption and export. The on-
site consumption of amphora-borne products is forcibly demonstrated by the amphora
quay at Myos Hormos (Peacock and Blue 2006; Blue 2018), where hundreds of empty
vessels, mostly intact, were used to consolidate the wharf area. Amphora types in this
feature are primarily Egyptian AE3 vessels and Campanian Dressel 2-4 wine amphorae.
The latter most likely correspond to Italika, referred to in trade documents, including
the Periplus Maris Erythraei (Casson 1989) and the Berenike ostraka (Bagnall et al. 2000)
and were distributed eastwards from Egypt to India (Fig. 15).
Fig. 15
Distribution of Italika at main sites across the Indian Ocean.

© R. Tomber, A. Simpson
533
26 Another Dressel 2-4 wine amphora mentioned in these same documents and the
Nicanor archive (Fuks 1951), is the Ladikena, probably linked to vessels produced in
eastern Cilicia and exported through Laodicea ad Mare (Tomber 1998). A Dressel 2-4
from Myos Hormos, in an eastern Cilician fabric, has a label to Publius from Herakleitos
and also includes the mention of Miresis, who was a son of Nicanor (Fig. 16). Miresis
was active in trade between AD 41 and 62 (Van Rengen 2003, O. 0741).
Fig. 16
Dressel 2-4 amphora with Miresis inscription from Myos Hormos (Left:
R. Tomber; Right: W. Van Rengen).
© R. Tomber, W. Van Rengen
Table 1
Site % Imported
Site Reference
Function amphorae
Mons
Quarry 1.0-2.5% Tomber 2006, tab. 1.4**
Claudianus
Tomber, unpublished
Myos Hormos Sea port 5-15%
(4 deposits)*
Hayes 1996, tab. 6-1*. Hayes 1996, tab. 6-5**.

Berenike Sea port 4-13%
Tomber 1999, tab. 5-1*
Krokodilô Praesidium 2% Brun 2007, pp. 516-517*
Maximianon Praesidium 1% Brun 2007, pp. 517-519*
Didymoi Praesidium 1.5% Brun 2007, p. 507*
534
Coptos River port 1-11% Lawall 2003, tab. 1*
Relative quantities of imported amphorae as a percentage of the total amphora assemblage. *= by

count; **= by weight.
27 Fewer statistics are available for fine ware assemblages, but they comprise a relatively
smaller percentage of the total assemblage in comparison to amphorae. For example, at
Claudianus they range between 2-4% of the assemblage (Tomber 2006, table 1-4; see
also Hayes 1996, table 6-3; Tomber 1999, table 5-1). Additional data are needed,
therefore, before further generalisations can be made. What is clear, though, is that the
range of fine wares from the ports is much broader than from the quarries or praesidia.
At Coptos, fine wares account for between 0% and 11% of the total Roman assemblage
(Herbert and Berlin 2003, p. 134).
28 Egyptian faience and thin-walled ware, and imported sigillata, are present at almost all
sites.7 In contrast, very small numbers of Nabataean and other imported thin-walled
wares are restricted to Berenike, Myos Hormos and Didymoi (Brun 2011, p. 119,
Fig. 202, no. 1). Roman glazed wares belonging to the Tarsus tradition (Fig. 17; Hochuli-
Gysel 2002) and Partho-Sasanian glazed wares (Fig. 18) are diagnostic of the sea ports8
and the latter probably arrived via the South Arabian ports of Kanê/Qana and Moscha
Limên/Khor Rori (Tomber in press a).
Fig. 17
Tarsus glazed ware from Berenike (Left: R. Tomber; Right: T. Witkowska).

© R. Tomber, T. Witkowska
Fig. 18
Sasanian glazed ware from Berenike (Left: R. Tomber; Right: T.

Witkowska).
© R. Tomber, T. Witkowska
535
29 Other non-Roman wares are particularly characteristic of the sea ports where a range
of fine wares, cooking wares and storage jars from India, South Arabia and East Africa
are represented in some numbers. For instance, at Berenike, Indian cooking pots in
some deposits comprise up to 9% of the coarse ware assemblage during the 1st century
AD (pp. 19-21; Begley and Tomber 1999, p. 180).
Fig. 19
Indian cooking wares found at Myos Hormos and Berenike (Tomber 2008,
Fig. 6).
© R. Tomber
Fig. 20
Indian coarse wares from Myos Hormos.

© R. Tomber
Fig. 21
536
Indian cooking wares from Arikamedu, India (R. Tomber, courtesy of

Pondicherry Museum).
© R. Tomber
30 These wares can occasionally be found along the roads and at Coptos, but do not typify
those assemblages. Travelling from Berenike, at the first way station, both an Indian
cooking pot and South Arabian storage jars (Fort 5, Sidebotham and Gates in press
2018) have been recorded from Vetus Hydreuma/Wâdi Abu Greiya; from Didymoi, near
Coptos on the Coptos-Berenike road comes a surface find of an Aksumite pot (Brun
2015) and an Indian cooking pot (J.-P. Brun, personal communication); while from
Coptos itself, Indian rouletted ware is known (Elaigne 1999). Finally, an Indian (Chera)
coin has been identified on the Coptos-Berenike road from Dios/Abu Greiya
(H. Cuvigny, personal communication: the Chera coin has been identified by
O. Bopearachchi). Importantly these rare occurrences are uniformly from trade routes
that link to the ports, yet no non-Roman ceramics have, to date, been recognised as far
afield as Alexandria. Quarries such as Mons Claudianus and Porphyrites, situated on a
different set of road networks, although also converging at Coptos, apparently lack
non-Roman ceramic finds.
31 The movement of transport vessels, such as amphorae and storage jars, can be readily
understood as reflecting trade in commodities, but other ware types, for instance
Indian cooking vessels, may have been personal possessions –particularly for the use of
foreign diaspora communities on the Red Sea, enabling merchants and sailors to
maintain familiar culinary traditions both on-board ships and in the port. It is for this
reason that such an abrupt fall-off is noted in their occurrence after leaving the ports.
32 Looking beyond the ceramic finds, parallel trends can be identified, particularly in the
archaeobotanical remains. As an example, black pepper from India is most common at
the sea ports: it occurs abundantly and in numerous in-situ contexts at Berenike
(Cappers 2006, pp. 114-116; see also Van der Veen 2011, pp. 41-46 for the absolute
smaller amounts from Myos Hormos) that clearly demonstrate it was consumed in the
port. Conversely, pepper was rare at Claudianus (2 peppercorns – Van der Veen 2001,
p. 199) and absent from Porphyrites (Van der Veen 2007, p. 96). Although absent from
both the Myos Hormos-Coptos and Berenike-Coptos roads (M. Van der Veen, personal
communication; Van der Veen 2018), four ostraka confirm pepper was consumed at
Didymoi (O.Did. 327, 328, 364, 399) and that it was requested via personal letters and
supplied to individuals (Bülow-Jacobsen 2012).
537
Desert routes and desert supplies

33 The extensive scholarly work of the last decades has shown that supply networks
existed across the Eastern Desert for provisioning the sites, for the export of Egyptian/
Mediterranean goods travelling eastwards to and onwards from the Red Sea ports, and
for the importation of goods from the East that travelled westwards to Coptos.
Throughout the desert the passage of goods and peoples on these networks was strictly
controlled and passes and receipts indicate that the selling of goods before their
ultimate destination was forbidden, although it is likely that some exceptions, legal or
not, were made (Tomber 2006, p. 214).
34 The provision of foodstuffs and other essentials (including pottery) to the quarries
comprised official rations supplemented by personal requests for items, generally from
the Nile Valley. Similar mechanisms existed to supply the praesidia and ostraka from
them indicate that provisioning differed for military personnel and civilians, and also
that goods circulated between the praesidia (Cuvigny 2012, p. 6). The sea ports also
required provisioning and it appears that this was separate from the supply of items for
import and export (Ibid., pp. 6-7). The most informative Eastern Desert texts regarding
the items and organisation of goods intended for export come from the Nicanor archive
(Fuks 1951) and more recently from the Berenike ostraka (Bagnall et al. 2000, 2005).
35 In the context of this paper, amphora-borne products and other smaller vessels
containing foodstuffs or oil for non-culinary purposes are most relevant. Rations would
have mostly comprised Egyptian products and, indeed, the bulk of the amphorae found
in the Eastern Desert were produced in the Nile Valley. Based on a model where
imported goods were of greater value than Egyptian ones, the smaller number of
imported vessels could represent special purchases or requisitions from military
personnel or inhabitants of some status. The small but similar quantities of imported
amphorae from Mons Claudianus and the praesidia are notable in their diverse range.
Overall this diversity may reflect the intensive activity in the region generated from
both the overseas trade and mineral exploitation as well as the demand created by the
military presence at desert sites (Tomber 2006, pp. 212-215).
36 In contrast the consistently greater quantities of imported amphorae at Myos Hormos
and Berenike must have reached there because of the overseas trade, but as noted
above, were also regularly consumed there. The flow of goods from both East and West
would have provided ready access to imported goods. Comparative trends from Coptos
are variable, but most assemblages are more in keeping with the praesidia and quarries
than the sea ports, reinforcing that the larger quantities of imported amphorae at the
sea ports were first and foremost for export. That specific wine containers, Italika and
Ladikena, are frequently mentioned in trade documents (e.g. Bagnall et al. 2000,
pp. 16-18) lends further support for this. Additionally, in the private letters wine is only
rarely mentioned (e.g. O.Did. 334, 364) and even less frequently by type (e.g. O.Did. 419
for Laodicean wine, Bülow-Jacobsen 2012).
37 Goods imported from the East, and travelling west to Coptos and ultimately to
Alexandria, present clearer patterns. Using pepper as a proxy, sizeable amounts were
consumed at Myos Hormos and Berenike with very rare quantities recorded from the
praesidia and the quarries. This makes obvious that despite the tetarte (25% tax) that
538
was levied on goods from the East it was possible to consume eastern goods in the ports
themselves, but it may have been more difficult after leaving the ports.
38 A recent inscription from Berenike indicating that there was a storage facility there (in
this case for spices), has strengthened the argument put forth by Cuvigny, that some
taxation may have taken place at Berenike to facilitate local markets for eastern goods
(Ast and Bagnall 2015, p. 182; Cuvigny 2005, p. 15). Ast and Bagnall further speculate
that rare goods on the desert road might already have been taxed at Berenike or
represent “leakage” (Ast and Bagnall 2015, pp. 182-183; Bülow-Jacobsen 2012: O.Did. 323,
n. 10). It may be that similar systems were in operation at Coptos, accounting for goods
that travelled in the opposite direction across the desert.
39 This survey has drawn attention to consistent differences between the imported
amphorae at river and sea ports, quarries and roadside sites that complement what we
know from the ostraka about supply in the Eastern Desert. The compilation and
publication of additional ceramic data, enabling an assessment of individual deposit
function, has much to offer in unravelling archaeologically the different supply
networks active in the region.
Acknowledgements
40 Valerie Maxfield and Hélène Cuvigny kindly read a draft of this paper and I am grateful
for their extremely useful comments. Warm thanks also go to Wilfried Van Rengen for
information on the costrels and the Miresis amphora from Myos Hormos; to J.-P. Brun
for providing unpublished data from the praesidia; to Marijke Van der Veen for
unpublished information on the archaebotanical evidence; and Hélène Cuvigny for her
reading of the inscription on Fig. 8, no. 101. Many of the illustrations are republished
from earlier publications and are the work of Graham Reed, Seán Goddard, Penny
Copeland and Julian Whitewright, acknowledged in the original publications. Here they
were prepared for digital presentation by Antony Simpson. This work of synthesis was
possible only due to my participation in projects at Mons Claudianus, Mons
Porphyrites, Myos Hormos-Qusayr al-Qadim and Berenike. I thank all the project
directors and teams, but, above all, David Peacock, for his invitation to join the team at
Mons Claudianus, that first took me to the Eastern Desert.
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FOOTNOTES
1. As explained by H. Cuvigny in this volume, the term “Mons Porphyrites” is never attested in
ancient sources, which only mention “Porphyrites” (see Cuvigny 2018).
2. Coins of Probus (276-282) and Aurelian (269-275) found in Passage IX of Fort South-East
provided the latest dating evidence (Maxfield and Peacock 2001, p. 464). Two stray sherds of Late
Roman African Red Slip ware were also found on the surface of the fort and environs but are not
considered to relate to occupation of the fort (Tomber 2006, pp. 196-197).
3. Ψεν[ is definitely the beginning of an Egyptian personal name. One does not expect the
preposition εἰς (“to”, meaning toward a place) before a personal name; nor does one expect a
verb in the indicative second person singular on a bowl. ]εις must be the end of another name (a
misspelling of ]ις) and therefore Ψεν[ was the patronymic (H. Cuvigny, personal communication).
4. Relative percentages vary somewhat depending on whether the pottery was measured by
weight or count, but the results are fairly comparable, and in both cases the percentages are
high.
5. The large percentages of imported amphorae recorded during the Late Roman period are not
explored in detail here, where the focus is on Early Roman assemblages.
543
6. Deposit R1 (27% imported amphorae), dating to the mid-1st century BC, is earlier than
roughly similar dated deposits from Myos Hormos and Berenike and, therefore, should not be
included in the comparisons.
7. Faience appears to be absent from the deposits published by Berlin from Coptos (Herbert and
Berlin 2003). For information on the faience and imported sigillata from the praesidia I thank J.-
P. Brun.
8. A few glazed vessels of uncertain origin are recorded from Xeron on the Berenike-Coptos road
(J.-P. Brun, personal communication).
AUTHOR
Roberta Tomber
Researcher, Department of Ceramics, British Museum (Great Britain)
544
Port of Myos Hormos and its

Relations to Indo-Roman Trade
Dr. Lucy Blue
dedicated to Prof. David Peacock

1 From at least the middle of the 2nd millennium BC Egypt was sending vessels to the
mouth of the Red Sea, to Punt and beyond, to bring back myrrh and frankincense, along
with other exotic artefacts of trade and tribute (Casson 1989, p. 11, n. 2). However, it
was not until descriptions given by the Classical geographers and accounts in the
1st century AD Periplus Maris Erythraei (Casson 1989) of voyages within the Red Sea and
beyond, that detailed evidence for these seafaring activities was forthcoming. From the
late 1st century BC, when Egypt became part of the Roman Empire, Roman merchants
plied the route to Arabia and India in ever-increasing numbers. Key to this
development of trade and maritime activity was the role of harbours, providing an
interface between land and sea and a conduit for the transfer and storage of goods,
people and ideas. It is clear from both the archaeological and documentary evidence
that one harbour in particular, Myos Hormos, played a major role in facilitating trade
along the northern reaches of the Red Sea coast, and with its sister port Berenike to the
south, acted as the departure points for exports from the Roman world (Sidebotham
1986; Casson 1989; Peacock and Blue 2006).
2 This paper provides a summary of the work conducted to date at the site of Myos
Hormos, modern day Quseir al-Qadim, through reference to the extant bibliography
(see below). The site was first excavated by a team from Chicago University in the
1970’s (Whitcomb and Johnson 1982a, 1982b) and subsequently, between 1999 to 2003,
five seasons of survey and excavation were conducted by the University of
Southampton under the direction of Prof. David Peacock (to whom this paper is
dedicated) and Dr. Lucy Blue. The results of this work have been extensively published
largely but not exclusively, in two volumes (Peacock and Blue 2006, 2011).
3 The exact location of Quseir al-Qadim as the ancient port of Myos Hormos, was first
suggested by Peacock (1993) and finally confirmed by archaeological and epigraphic
data in 1999 (Peacock and Blue 2006). The site occupies a crucial position on the
Egyptian Red Sea coast (Fig. 1).
545
Fig. 1
Map of the routes to Berenike and to Myos Hormos at the end of the first
century AD.
© J.-P. Brun
4 It is located at the end of Wâdi al-Hammâmât, the route that connected the Luxor
region of the Nile Valley some 180 km across the Eastern Desert to the west, with the
Red Sea. The site was occupied in the Roman period from late 1st century BC to mid
3rd century AD, and it is clear from historical sources that Myos Hormos was a major
Roman trading port; Strabo, for example (2.5.12), states that ‘Now 120 ships sail from
Myos Hormos to India’ and the Periplus Maris Erythraei states that “Of the designated
harbours of the Erythraean Sea, and the ports of trade on it, first comes Egypt’s port of
Myos Hormos and, beyond it, after a sail of 1800 stades to the right, Berenike.” (Casson
1989, PME 1).
5 Thus, the primary objective of this overview paper is to reinforce the significance of
the port of Myos Hormos and the critical role it played in support of Indo-Roman trade.
The publications (see below) demonstrate the connectivity of the port both within and
beyond the Red Sea, to the Eastern Desert of Egypt, the Nile Valley and the
Mediterranean world, but also East to the western Indian Ocean and ultimately to India.
The extremely dry nature of the environment of the Red Sea coast of Egypt insures that
archaeological sites have incredible organic preservation and as such, the huge range
of materials that were discovered at the port of Myos Hormos provide an amazing
insight into not only the objects and to a degree the nature, of trade at the port, but
also the port as lived space, the different ethic groups that inhabited the space, the
clothes they wore and the food they ate, thus further corroborating the textual sources.
6 The University of Southampton’s research at Quseir al-Qadim very much focused on the
maritime aspects of the site and as such, much is revealed through the excavations and
subsequent publications, of the maritime nature of the Myos Hormos, the nature and
scale of the harbour (Peacock and Blue 2006, pp. 65-94), but also some insight into the
types of vessels that moored here, how they were built and rigged, repaired and
546
maintained. The research conducted at the site of Myos Hormos to date, forms an
impression of the connectivity of the port, reflecting on the practicalities of maritime
trade, the range of vessel types, and the choices that sailors and traders alike made
with regard to when to sail, where and when to anchor, which routes to navigate, and
how amongst other considerations, the wind and the seasons were critical factors in
this complex pattern of connectivity and contact between the Indian Ocean, the Red
Sea and the Mediterranean Sea.
7 On all these aspects, see the presentation: http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-
pierre-brun/symposium-2016-03-31-14h00.htm.
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Blue L. 2006a. “Sewn boat timbers from the Medieval Islamic port of Quseir al-Qadim on
the Red Sea coast of Egypt”. In Connected by the Sea. 10th International Symposium of Boat
and Ship Archaeology. L.K. Blue, F. Hocker and A. Englert (eds), Roskilde, Denmark,
Oxford, pp. 277-283.
Blue L. 2007. “Locating the harbour: Myos Hormos/ Quseir al-Qadim: A Roman and
Islamic port on the Red Sea coast of Egypt”. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology
36.2, pp. 265-281.
Blue L. 2011. “The Red Sea”. In Oxford Handbook of Maritime Archaeology. A. Catsambis,
B. Ford & D. Hamilton (eds.), Chapter 22, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 295-512.
Blue L., Cooper J., Thomas R.I. and Whitewright J. (eds.) 2009. Connected hinterlands:
Proceedings of Red Sea Project IV. BAR International Series 2052. Oxford: Archaeopress.
Blue L., Hill J.D. & Thomas R. 2012. “New light on the nature of Indo-Roman trade:
Roman period shipwrecks in the Northern Red Sea”. In Navigated Spaces, Connected
Places. Proceedings of Red Sea Project. V. Agius, D.A. Cooper, J. Trakadas, A. & C. Zarraro.
(eds.), BAR Int. Series. Oxford: Archeopress, pp. 91-00.
Blue L., Whitewright J. and Thomas R.I. In press. “Roman Imperial Ships – An Eastern
Perspective”. In 8th International Symposium on Ship Construction in Antiquity. H. Tzalas
(ed.), TROPIS 8. Athens.
Casson L. 1971. Ships and Seamanship in the Ancient World. Princeton.
Casson L. 1989. The Periplus Maris Erythraei. Princeton.
Davies S. and Morgan E. 1995. Red Sea Pilot. London.
Peacock D. 1993. “The site of Myos Hormos: a view from space”. Journal of Roman
Peacock D. & Blue L. (eds) 2006. Myos Hormos – Quseir al-Qadim: Roman and Islamic Ports on
the Red Sea. Volume 1: Survey and Excavations 1999-2003. Oxford.
Peacock D. & Blue L. (eds) 2011. Myos Hormos – Quseir al-Qadim Roman and Islamic port on
the Red Sea coast. Volume 2: The finds from the 1999-2003 excavations. Southampton
Monograph Series No. 6. Archaeopress. Oxford.
Sidebotham S.E. 1986. Roman economic policy in the Erythra Thalassa 30 BC–AD 217. Leiden.
Sidebotham S.E. and al. 2008. The Red Land. American University in Cairo. Egypt.
547
Thomas R.I. 2007. “The Arabaegypti Ichthyophagi: Cultural connections with Egypt and
the maintenance of identity”. In Natural resources and cultural connections of the Red Sea.
J. Starkey, C.M. Markey, P. and T. Wilkinson (eds.), BAR International Series 1661.
Oxford: Archaeopress, pp. 149-160.
Thomas R.I. 2010. “Fishing equipment from Myos Hormos and fishing techniques on the
Red Sea”. In Proceedings of the International Workshop on Nets and Fishing Gears in Classical
Antiquity: A first approach. T. Bekker-Nielsen, and D. Bernal (eds), Cadiz: Servicio de
Publicaciones; Aarhus: Aarhus University Publications, pp. 139-160.
Thomas R.I. 2012. “Port communities and the Erythraean Sea”. British Museum Studies in
Ancient Egypt and Sudan 18, pp. 169-199.
Thomas R.I. and Tomber R. 2006. “Vessel stoppers”. In Mons Claudianus 3: Ceramic vessels
and related objects. V.A. Maxfield and D.P.S. Peacock (eds.), Cairo: IFAO, pp. 239-260.
Tomber R. 2008. Indo-Roman Trade: From Pots to Pepper. Debates in Archaeology Series.
Bloomsbury Academic.
Tomber R., Blue L. & Abraham S. (eds.). 2010. Migration, Trade and Peoples. Part 1: Indian
Ocean Commerce and the archaeology of western India. BASAS. London: http://
www.royalasiaticsociety.org/site/files/Part%201-%20Indian%20Ocean.pdf.
Van Der Venn M. 2011. Consumption, trade and innovation: exploring the botanical remains
from the Roman and Islamic ports at Quseir al-Qadim, Egypt. Journal of African Archaeology
Monograph Series 6. Africa Magna Verlag.
Whitcomb D.S. and Johnson J.H. 1979. Quseir al-Qadim 1978. Preliminary Report.
American Research Centre in Egypt, Cairo.
Whitcomb D.S. and Johnson J.H. 1982a. Quseir al-Qadim 1980. Preliminary Report.
American Research Centre in Egypt, Volume 7, Cairo. Malibu.
Whitcomb D.S. and Johnson J.H. 1982b. “Season of Excavation at Quseir al-Qadim”.
American Research Centre in Egypt, Newsletter 120, pp. 24-30.
Whitewright J. 2006. Roman Rigging Material from the Red Sea Port of Myos Hormos,
IJNA 36.2.
Whitewright J. 2011. “Berenike and the Indian Ocean trade”. Journal of Roman
AUTEUR
Dr. Lucy Blue

University of Southampton, UK
548
Overview of Fieldwork at Berenike

1994-2015
1 Fifteen seasons of survey and excavation (1994-2001 and 2009-2015) and one week of
survey alone (2008) at Berenike (Fig. 1) have documented abundant evidence about this
Egyptian Red Sea emporium that functioned for about 800 years.1 Founded by Ptolemy
II Philadelphus before the mid-third BC Berenike, located about 825 km south southeast
of Suez and ca. 260 km east of Aswan, operated until its final peaceful abandonment
sometime prior to the middle of the sixth century AD. Recent documentation from
Berenike of two fragments of Middle Kingdom stelai may, however, suggest the
existence of a roadstead or small harbor here that facilitated communications between
the Red Sea coast of Egypt –especially the Middle Kingdom port of Saww in Wâdi
Gawasis– and Punt ca. 1500 years prior to the Ptolemaic foundation.2
Fig. 1
549
Map of location of Berenike and environs. Drawing by M. Hense.

© M. Hense
2 The role Berenike played in international, regional and local commercial and cultural
exchanges was significant during most of its history. This brief overview discusses
activities at the port based on nine functional roles as reflected in the architecture,
artifacts and ecofacts documented from the excavations.
1. Hydraulic installations
1.1. Ptolemaic (Fig. 2)
3 A deep rectangular-shaped shaft artificially cut into bedrock behind portions of the
extant Ptolemaic city wall at the western side of the site recorded five tunnels. Four –
two penetrating the northern and two dug in to the southern sides of the shaft– have
been incompletely excavated and their purposes remain unknown. A fifth, piercing the
eastern end of shaft, revealed a narrow tunnel at least 6-7 meters long, that was clearly
hydraulic in nature.
Fig. 2
550
Plan of Berenike: Ptolemaic hydraulic installations. Drawing by Berenike

Project.
© Berenike Project
4 Excavations documented the only other recognizable Ptolemaic-era hydraulic

installation in the corner of a cistern in the Ptolemaic industrial area,3 which lay south
southwest of the aforementioned shaft containing the five tunnels. This cistern
undoubtedly provided water for metal working activities that took place in the vicinity.
This part of the cistern contained the skeleton of an adult (gender unknown) human
clearly deposited after the facility had ceased to function in its original capacity (on
which see infra). The documentation of 95 kg of lead from the trench in which this
portion of the cistern lay indicated intensive metal working in the immediate area.4
1.2. Roman (Fig. 3)
5 Early Roman-era hydraulic installations or evidence of water-related activities have

been documented, but not for the Middle or Late Roman periods.
Fig. 3
551
Plan of Berenike: Roman hydraulic installations. Drawing by Berenike

Project.
© Berenike Project
6 These included hydraulic facilities near the Ptolemaic city wall (see infra) and the
Ptolemaic-era shaft containing the five tunnels noted above. Roman hydraulic
installations consisted of a plaster lined rectilinear-shaped cistern and piping
comprising the rims and necks of two amphoras abutting one another at their tops.5
This piping connected to several shallow plaster-lined channels. Whether these
remains indicated an uninterrupted continuation of hydraulic operations from
Ptolemaic times in this part of the site is uncertain.
7 A square sunken feature located in the southwestern harbor (see infra) was likely
functionally and chronologically related to the Great Temple (see infra) as the materials
(white gypsum ashlars) and construction methods (in part using wooden clamps) used
in both were identical. This sunken structure may have served as a small-scale
Nilometer and also a larger version of the miniature lustral basins with interior steps
found elsewhere on site in religious contexts. These are features often closely
associated with Serapis in the Hellenistic and Roman periods in Egypt.6 Its location in
the harbor area near the Late Roman Harbor temple (see infra), which may also have
been, in part, dedicated to Serapis, and the presence of extant holes toward the bottom
of the face of the southern interior wall of the sunken feature, may well have measured
the tides as symbolic representations of the rising and falling of the Nile similar to
calculations made by traditional Nilometers. Detailed examination of the interior walls
of this sunken feature, however, did not reveal that it had ever contained or had ever
been affiliated with any lustral or hydraulic function. None of the ashlars preserved any
type of waterproofing agent, but it seems that many extant Nilometers lacked such
interior waterproofing as well.
8 A first century AD ostraka archive found in the Early Roman trash dump in 2009 and
2010 recorded the Roman army’s control over aspects of potable water procurement
and distribution in the city.7 Its existence, ipso facto, indicated the presence of hydraulic
facilities in the city that have yet to be documented by excavation.
552
9 Additionally, a number of kiln fired bricks, some with mortar or plaster still adhering,
have been recovered from excavations in various parts of the site.8 Such bricks lined
hydraulic facilities elsewhere in the Eastern Desert and were likely used for that same
purpose at Berenike. Thus, these bricks are indirect evidence for one or more hydraulic
facilities, likely Roman in date, that lay somewhere in the city.
10 Fragments of Roman era glass bath flasks recorded from the excavations and broadly
dated first-fourth centuries AD9 may also provide evidence for the existence,
somewhere in the city, of one or more Roman-era thermae.
11 North northwest, west and west southwest of Berenike were three praesidia that began
operations in Early Roman times and must have provided at least some of the potable
water required by the city. These lay at Siket (approximately 7 km west northwest of
Berenike),10 a small praesidium in Wâdi Kalalat (about 7 km southwest of Berenike) 11
and, a large praesidium in Wâdi Kalalt (ca. 8.4 km southwest Berenike).12 In addition to
providing some of Berenike’s potable water, these three forts, together with seven
others, formed a defensive ring for the city ranging from the hilltop fort in Shenshef ca.
21.4 km in a straight line southwest of Berenike to the small installation in Wâdi
Lahami about 30.37 km as the bird flies northwest of the port city.13
2. Military presence
12 Evidence for Ptolemaic military presence at Berenike has been documented in three
areas of the site; these included: portions of a badly robbed defensive tower,14 a short
section of robbed enceinte, and an abbreviated segment of more or less intact wall. All
dated to the early Ptolemaic period (second quarter to mid-third century BC) and,
outside Alexandria, are the only known Ptolemaic city defenses recorded
archaeologically anywhere in Egypt. Robbing of portions of these Ptolemaic military
fortifications seems to have taken place in the Augustan period (30 BC-14 AD)
indicating that the Romans felt secure enough to dismantle, at least in part, the
defenses of their predecessors. No doubt the Roman-era inhabitants recycled much of
the stone for use in other features constructed at Berenike at that time.
Fig. 4
553
Plan of Berenike: Ptolemaic military installations. Drawing by Berenike

Project.
© Berenike Project
2.2. Roman (Fig. 5)
13 Excavations in three areas of the site noted above indicated that Berenike’s urban
defenses from the Ptolemaic period were, in some cases, torn town in Augustan times,
or were neglected, abandoned and fell into disuse; these were not, apparently replaced
at any point during the Roman occupation of the city. This suggests that the Romans
believed Berenike to be quite secure and did not require city walls during their
occupation.
Fig. 5
554
Plan of Berenike: Indications of presence of Roman military. Drawing

byBerenike Project.
© Berenike Project
14 Nevertheless, Roman military presence at Berenike was evident in the faunal record.
Quantities of pig bones appear in Early Roman contexts; pork was an important
component of the military diet.15 Terra sigillata sherds of bowls/plates/other open
forms16 and a terra cotta fragment of a statuette of a Roman auxiliary soldier17 may well
have comprised some of the personal baggage of Roman soldiers stationed in the port.
The documentation of iron weapons, including at least one bronze lance head and a
number of arrowheads, from Early Roman contexts pointed to the presence of the
Roman army in Berenike.18
15 The ostraka noted above dealing with the army’s control of the city’s water supply was
a clear indication of the Roman military’s presence in the city in the first century AD19
as were papyri and ostraka that recorded soldiers, officers and cohorts stationed in the
port at that time.20
16 The existence of ten walled installations ranging southwest to northwest of the city
(and noted supra) indicated a military presence in the region that guarded the land
approaches to Berenike.21 At least some of the garrisons of these forts may have been
drawn from one or more units stationed in Berenike at that time; the men at these
outlying forts may well have served on a rotational basis from the port itself. A
fragmentary inscription, probably of the first or second century AD, but found recycled
in to a Late Roman-era wall at Berenike, mentions a prefect of the garrisons and of
Berenike.22 This text may lend support to the notion that overall command of these
satellite forts was exercised by a high raking officer residing at Berenike.
17 Roman military presence from at least the late second and early third centuries has
been documented from the so-called “Shrine of the Palmyrenes.”23 Excavations
recorded two dedicatory inscriptions from this installation. One dated to September 8,
215 AD, and carved in Greek on a stone statue base, had been dedicated by a Palmyrene
archer named Marcus Aurelius Mokimos to the Roman imperial cult of Caracalla and
Julia Domna.24 The second was a bi-lingual Palmyrene-Greek text carved on stone and
dedicated to the Palmyrene deity Hierobol/Yarhibol mentioning one Valerius
Germanon, chiliarch of the ala Heracliana sometime between about 180/185 and 212 AD.25
Both texts clearly indicated the presence of at least auxiliary mounted troops in
Berenike at that time.
3. Religious structures/other evidence

18 There was little positively identifiable religious activity at Berenike in Ptolemaic times
that has been documented by the excavations. There were a few small artifacts from
the Ptolemaic industrial area that included a miniature temple door made of bronze26
and from a Ptolemaic trash deposit two scarabs, one of which was broken and bore the
cartouche of the 21st dynasty pharaoh Siamun (reigned ca. 986-967 BC).27
Fig. 6
555
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Ptolemaic religious activity. Drawing by

Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
19 The Great Temple, previously identified as a Temple of Serapis by some earlier

European explorers,28 was very likely Ptolemaic in its original construction as a
fragmentary inscription of Ptolemy VIII (reigned 169-116 BC) was found inside the
building in the nineteenth century.29 Perhaps not coincidentally, the reigns of Ptolemy
VI-VIII (180-116 BC) were ones of intensive temple construction throughout Egypt.30
This text of Ptolemy VIII may provide a more precise date for this temple’s foundation.
Strabo (Geography 2.3.4) –drawing on Poseidonius– reported towards the end of his
reign that Ptolemy VIII sponsored Eudoxus of Cyzicus to explore the Red Sea and Indian
Ocean. So the discovery of an inscription of that monarch at Berenike is not surprising,
but corroborates what literary sources recorded about official interest in the Red Sea
and Indian Ocean at that time.31
20 Despite this evidence the preponderance of the data excavated thus far by our team
dated most activity in the Great Temple from the Early to Middle Roman periods;
cartouches on the temple walls noted by earlier European visitors also support this
dating.32 The sunken feature in the southwestern harbor (noted supra) adjacent to the
Late Roman harbor temple employed the same type of white gypsum/anhydrite ashlars
and similar construction techniques as used in the Great Temple.33 It may also be
Ptolemaic in origin. Like the Great Temple, the sunken feature seemed to have
continued in use in Roman times. First through fourth century AD objects including
black peppercorns, fired bricks and brick fragments, painted ostrich egg shell sherds,
parts of bronze statues including bone eye insets and an inscription of Domitian had
been discarded into the interior of the enigmatic square feature.34 The objects found
here suggested that the sunken feature had ceased to operate, at least in its original
capacity, by the fourth century AD or, perhaps, earlier.
556
3.2. Roman (Fig. 7)
21 There were a number of clearly datable religious installations and artifacts of Roman
date that have been excavated at Berenike thus far. These included the Great Temple
and sunken feature noted above. The former certainly and the latter probably also
functioned from Early Roman into Middle Roman times. There was archaeological
evidence of continued operation, at least in parts of the Great Temple, into the Late
Roman period: the fourth and, perhaps, the fifth century AD.
Fig. 7
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Roman religious activity. Drawing by

Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
22 Of Middle and Late Roman date was the so-called “Shrine of the Palmyrenes,” discussed
above.35 Of fourth-fifth and, less likely, sixth century date was the Late Roman harbor
temple. Here multiple cults including those of Bes, Isis, a South Arabian deity and links
to Nubia and Meroë have been attested.36 The deity or deities worshipped in the
Northern Shrine, which was contemporary with and of similar size and internal plan to
the Late Roman harbor temple, cannot be determined with certainty, though Isis has
been suggested.37
23 Finally, a large Christian ecclesiastical facility of the fifth century, including a church at
its southern side, lay at the eastern end of the site.38 This installation’s orientation and
contents, including a number of terracotta oil lamps and fragments of a metal lamp all
with Christian symbols, permitted identification of this large complex.
24 A number of associated inscriptions, statuettes and other artifacts also documented
religious proclivities including a small stone head of Harpocrates from the Shrine of the
Palmyrenes,39 a broken stone figurine of Aphrodite from the Early Roman trash dump40
and a wooden lid of a pyxis depicting Aphrodite Anadyomene inside a Greco-Egyptian
style temple dating to ca. 400 AD;41 excavations documented the latter in a trench
immediately north of the Great Temple. Inscriptions from outside temple/religious
557
contexts included three from the courtyard of a house in the Late Roman commercial-
residential quarter. These comprised one dedication to Isis by an interpreter/secretary
late in the reign of Trajan and two, duplicates of one another, dedicated to Zeus by a
woman named Philotera during the reign of Nero.42 These three inscriptions may well
have been robbed from the Great Temple, which lay only about 50 m to the west; they
were likely destined for recycling into one or more Late Roman era edifices somewhere
in the Late Roman commercial-residential area (on which see infra). Excavations
immediately north of the Great Temple documented an iron uraeus Fig. and depiction in
metal either of the god Hapy or of Thoth. Both images were of Early Roman date and
may have been associated with activities conducted in the Great Temple.43
25 The range of deities venerated at Berenike, especially in Late Roman times and the
number of the shrines that accommodated more than one cult clearly reflected a
population in the emporium at that time generally tolerant of the religious traditions
of their fellow urbanites.
4. Funerary remains
4.1. Roman (Fig. 8)
26 The bulk, if not all, human skeletal remains documented at and in the environs of
Berenike that could be dated were from the Roman era. Three from the Early Roman
period lay in the hydraulic area with the two amphora tops noted above. Of these, two
were of adult males; one wore an iron ring on his left hand while the second was an
older man who had a number of beads and an iron ring. The third was a tall woman
whose head had been covered with a portion of an amphora.44
Fig. 8
Plan of Berenike: Indications of human remains from the Roman

period.Drawing by Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
558
27 Excavations documented the skeleton of 30-40 year old man in the putative
“lighthouse” area dated to the fourth century AD.45 This structure and the human
remains it contained lay in the southeastern part of the city.
28 The remains of a prematurely born infant whose gender could not be ascertained had
been discarded in a first or second century AD context46 associated with a public
building of uncertain function. It clearly had not received a formal burial.
29 Northwest of and close to Berenike in the area of modern, and now abandoned,
Egyptian military bunkers, were ring-cairn tombs of Early and Middle (first-third
century AD) date with artifacts, mainly pottery, but also a small finger ring intaglio
depicting an Eros Figure milking a goat.47
30 On the road leading northwest of the city towards the Nile excavations recorded a
formal cemetery. The Late Roman portion of this necropolis contained two types of
burials: cist and more elaborate tombs built of coral heads and containing wooden
sarcophagi, only tiny fragments of which survived robbing at some undetermined date.
The cist graves contained the skeleton of a two year old girl with beads and portions of
a burial shroud and the remains of an adolescent. The more elaborate sepulchers,
which had been thoroughly looted, contained the scattered bones of adults, a few small
scraps of wood and nails from the sarcophagi, but no grave goods. The project could
not determine, however, if the two types of burials reflected differences in age, social-
economic status, ethnicity or, perhaps, a combination of these factors.48
31 West and southwest of Berenike and between the city and the installations in Wâdi
Kalalat noted above were at least 640 ring tombs. These were primarily Late Roman in
date judging by the associated pottery. The majority of these burials had been robbed
at some undetermined period.49
4.2. Unknown date (Fig. 9)
32 In the Ptolemaic industrial area excavations documented a number of human skeletons

buried amidst abandoned ruins or in the sand, which had covered the earlier
structures. One tall individual lay immediately west of the rectangular shaft with the
tunnels noted above.50 Two others appeared deposited above portions of the robbed out
Ptolemaic curtain wall.51 A 40-50 year old female had been deposited atop an
abandoned brick kiln; her pelvis had been covered by a large, undiagnostic, potsherd.52
There was another very disarticulated individual or individuals buried near the ground
surface in the vicinity of the robbed Ptolemaic tower.53
Fig. 9
559
Plan of Berenike: Indications of human remains of unknown date.

Drawing by Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
33 Other skeletons lay farther southwest of the Ptolemaic shaft and tunnels. Altogether,
these individuals included two headless skeletons and several complete ones.54 Another
intact skeleton of unknown gender found in a fetal position lay inside an abandoned
Ptolemaic-era cistern (noted supra).55
34 All human skeletons or portions thereof thus far identified at Berenike, both dated and
undated, comprised adult males and females of varying ages, adolescents, infants, and a
fetus. These remains suggested that Berenike’s population came from a rather broad
spectrum of the socio-economic groups. Several of the Early Roman burials contained
grave goods (iron rings, beads, an amphora)56 as did one Late Roman: the burial of the
two year old girl found with beads and remains of a burial shroud.57 However, all these
remains, whether dated or not, provided insufficient evidence to enable excavators to
determine the ethnicities of any of these individuals.
5. Industrial/commercial activities
35 Excavations in the Ptolemaic industrial area documented a brick kiln or a waste deposit
from a brick kiln.58 It lay immediately north of the intact stretch of Ptolemaic city wall
and the hydraulic shaft with five tunnels noted above. It was atop this that the skeleton
of the 40-50 year old female (see supra) had been recorded. Elsewhere in the Ptolemaic
industrial area was a large quantity of lead; excavations in one trench alone recorded
95 kg of lead (see supra).59 Excavations in nearby areas recorded additional quantities of
lead,60 which would have been used to manufacture pipes, fittings and as sheathing for
the hulls of merchant ships.61
Fig. 10
560
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Ptolemaic commercial and industrial

activity. Drawing by Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
36 Other indicators of local industrial activity included large numbers of copper-alloy

nails and tacks used for a variety of purposes; the longer ones would likely have been
employed in ship repair.62 Excavations also documented iron and iron slag from the
Ptolemaic industrial area.63
37 A small human head carved from local stone and found in the Ptolemaic industrial area
indicated that a local sculpture workshop functioned in Berenike at that time.64
5.2. Roman (Fig. 11)
38 There was far more evidence for industrial and commercial activities at Berenike in the
Roman period than in the Ptolemaic. Metals (iron, lead and copper alloy) and terracotta
crucibles used in metal manufacture,65 turtle shell ornaments and wasters, 66
manufacture/repair of leather products67 and the existence of a sculpture atelier as
evidenced by a broken statuette of Aphrodite68 made from local stone have been
documented from Berenike in Early through Late Roman times. Recycling of glass also
seems to have occurred in the Roman period.69
Fig. 11
561
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Roman commercial and industrial

activity. Drawing by Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
6. Residential structures
6.1. Ptolemaic
39 No identifiable Ptolemaic residential areas have been documented thus far in

excavations at Berenike.
40 All evidence thus far recorded from Berenike for residential activities derives from Late
Roman times (mid-fourth century on);70 we know nothing about domestic dwellings
from the Early or Middle Roman periods. There was substantial overlap between
domestic/residential activities and industrial/commercial ones as evidence pointed to
many multiple storied structures accommodating both types of pursuits. In the central
eastern and portions of the southern parts of Berenike in Late Roman times, at least, it
seems that many commercial activities took place on ground floors while upper floors
of buildings were primarily, if not exclusively, residential/domestic in nature.71 Many
staircases, made of gypsum/anhydrite stone recycled from earlier structures, survived
attesting these intensively used multiple storied structures.72 It was in this quarter of
the city that the three Early Roman inscriptions likely deriving from the nearby Great
Temple (noted above) had been recorded.
Fig. 12
562
Plan of Berenike: Roman residential structures. Drawing by Berenike

Project.
© Berenike Project
7. Maritime activities
41 Production of long copper-alloy nails suggested their use in ship repair; these derived
from the Ptolemaic industrial quarter and were discussed above in the “industrial/
commercial” portion of this paper. Indirect evidence for Ptolemaic maritime activities
may be attested in the V-shaped ditch, a putative elephant retaining pen, and
documentation of elephant molars.73 More recent excavations have also recorded
portions of a skull of an elephant.74 If initial identification of this ditch is correct, then
it indicated importation by sea of pachyderms in the Early Ptolemaic era, something
several extant ancient written sources recorded in the third and second centuries BC75
and as proven by the documentation of the elephant molars and the fragment of an
elephant skull found near the ditch.76
Fig. 13
563
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Ptolemaic maritime activity. Drawing by

Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
42 There was far more, and quite substantial, evidence for maritime activity in both Early
and Late Roman times at Berenike. Remains of dock, quay wall or breakwater
structures have been located at three areas along the eastern edge of the site;77 all
seemed to be Early Roman. Other Early Roman evidence included ship timbers made of
cedar wood –some put to other later uses– using (pinned) mortise-and-tenon
construction methods,78 a portion of a ship’s frame made of cedar79 and lengths of thick
rope found in the southwestern harbor;80 a putative ship’s bollard or upright beam of
unknown function made of cedar81 has also been recorded near the aforementioned
ship timbers. A graffito carved on a potsherd of a ship at anchor,82 brailing rings, lead
hull sheathing and possible loading nets made of rope/cordage have also been recorded
from Early Roman contexts, mainly from trash dumps and from the southwestern
harbor.83
Fig. 14
564
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Roman maritime activity. Drawing by

Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
43 Long iron nails from manufacturing areas in the southwestern harbor84 and what must
surely have been recycled ship timbers made of cedar and found in and near the Great
Temple also derived from early Roman contexts.85
44 From the Early Roman trash came numerous ostraka documenting the loading of
supplies and cargoes onto ships86 and a list of maritime equipment. 87 The name of one
of the ships that put in to Berenike, Gymnasiarchis, also appeared on an ostracon from
the Early Roman trash dump.88
45 From Late Roman contexts excavations documented several instances of teak wood
timbers with dowel holes recycled into the walls of both religious and secular buildings;
at least one also had remains of pitch or tar adhering to it.89 The Northern Shrine
preserved a teak wood beam over three meters long with dowel holes. One wall of the
Shrine of Palmyrenes in its Late Roman phase also preserved a teak wood beam with
dowel holes.90 All these teak beams preserving dowel holes suggested that they had
been recycled from one or more dismantled ships in the Late Roman period.91 A large
chunk of iron, possibly an anchor fluke, had also been recycled into a late Roman-era
wall immediately north of the Great Temple, while another portion of an iron anchor
stock appeared associated with the fifth century Christian ecclesiastical building at the
eastern side of the site.92
46 Vesicular basalt ships’ ballast originating from Qana’ on the Indian Ocean coast of
South Arabia (modern Yemen) appeared on the surface in the southwestern harbor.93
Unfortunately, the date of its deposition could not be ascertained.
565
8. Evidence for food procurement/storage

47 Evidence for food procurement and storage at Ptolemaic Berenike was indirect and
comprised primarily botanical remains, but also, surprisingly, pork, imported from the
Nile valley and beyond from the wider Mediterranean, Red Sea-Indian Ocean basin.94
Several stamped amphora handles, including at least one from Rhodes suggested
imports or recycling of those containers somewhere in the Nile Valley95 or from the
northern end of the Red Sea before their arrival at Berenike.
Fig. 15
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Ptolemaic food procurement and

storage.Drawing by Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
48 The abundance of textual, botanical and faunal remains indicated a heavy reliance on
food imports in Roman times from the Nile Valley and beyond from the Mediterranean
basin and towards the south and east from South Asia and more broadly from the
northwestern portion of the Indian Ocean. These comprised various nuts, fruits and
vegetables, meat protein including Nile catfish and escargot from either northern Italy
or southern France.96 A number of epigraphic amphora stoppers, some with impressed
and painted stamps and others with simple dipinti also indicated importation of
products from the Nile valley, the Fayum and elsewhere.97
Fig. 16
566
Plan of Berenike: Indications of Roman food procurement and storage.

Drawing by Berenike Project.
© Berenike Project
49 Given the usually conservative nature of peoples’ diets a general comparison of

botanical and faunal remains from the Ptolemaic, Early and Late Roman periods
provided a mirror on the ethnicities of some of those dwelling at Berenike in those
periods.
9. Trash dumps
50 Excavations revealed a large Ptolemaic trash dump found near a portion of the
dismantled Ptolemaic city wall immediately north of the southwestern harbor.98
Ceramic, botanical and faunal remains from this Ptolemaic refuse deposit, taken
together, indicated a population of mainly Egyptian-Hellenistic individuals and of
desert dwellers at that time.99 Surprisingly, pork, though not a staple, was consumed at
Berenike in this period. The recovery of a camel bone documented the presence of that
animal at Berenike at this time (Early Ptolemaic era), but did not indicate how many
animals may have been on site at that time or in what capacity it/they may have been
used.
Fig. 17
567
Plan of Berenike: Ptolemaic trash dump. Drawing by Berenike Project.

© Berenike Project
51 Roman-era trash dumps have been found thus far from both Early and Late Roman
times. The former lay generally north of the city center and were primarily first
century AD (Tiberius, Claudius-Nero, the Flavians) in date.100 Late Roman (mainly fifth
century AD, but stretching into the fourth and sixth centuries) rubbish deposits have
been found associated with the Late Roman residential/commercial quarter noted
above.101 The huge volume of organic and inorganic artifacts and ecofacts deriving from
these dumps provided a wealth of information about the populations dwelling at
Berenike in those times.
Fig. 18
568
Plan of Berenike: Roman trash dumps. Drawing by Berenike Project.

© Berenike Project
52 The composition of the Ptolemaic population held true with an uptick of peoples of
Mediterranean origin in the Early Roman period mixed with a small number of those
hailing from elsewhere in the Near East, southern Arabia, sub-Saharan Africa and South
Asia.102 Little is known about the Middle Roman period when Berenike suffered a nadir
in its fortunes.
53 In Late Roman times, the Mediterranean component of the population declined with a
preponderance of the city’s residents coming from Egypt, both desert dwellers and
those who preferred marine sources for their food. Mixed with these were small
numbers of individuals from southern Arabia, Nubia/Meroë, sub-Saharan Africa
(especially the Kingdom of Axum) and South Asia (India and Sri Lanka).103
10. Animal burials

10.1 Roman (Fig. 19)
54 Excavations recorded approximately 130 burials located in the Early Roman trash dump
mainly of cats/kittens, followed numerically by dogs/puppies, then vervet or grivet
monkeys, baboons and a bird of unkown species. Some still wore iron collars around
their necks; at least one of these had been decorated with beads, another with beads
made of faience. Some of the animals had been buried under/in jars/amphoras or
wrapped in cloth; others lay in the sand neither covered nor wrapped.104 Excavations
recorded the skeletons of four other dogs immediately north of the southwestern
harbor.105 The faunal specialist could not determine if these individuals had been buried
here or had simply died in the positions in which they had been found.
Fig. 19
Plan of Berenike: animal burials from the Roman period. Drawing by

Berenike Project.
569
© Berenike Project
Conclusion
55 This paper has presented an abbreviated account of the nature of the remains thus far
documented from excavations at Berenike and what they have revealed about
hydraulic, military, religious, funerary, industrial/commercial, residential, maritime,
food procurement/storage, trash dumping activities and animal burials at this
emporium that operated for about eight centuries between the Eastern Desert and the
Red Sea coast of Egypt.
56 Documentation of 12 different written languages, varying burial customs, and diverse
religious practices and culinary preferences indicated a cosmopolitan population of
different ethnicities from various areas of the Mediterranean, Near East, Egypt, sub-
Saharan Africa, South Arabia and South Asia. Skeletal remains of men, women and
children as well as of the unborn also revealed the demographic range of the
population at Berenike throughout its long history. This included both civilians and
military personnel. We know the names of a number of these individuals both civilian
and military, men and women. The recovery of a gold and pearl earring, escargot,
marble floor and/or wall revetment, fine furniture coverings or wall tapestries, high
end ceramic table ware, elaborately made glass ware, cloth imported from India and
some of the finer metal artifacts indicated an element of the population at the upper
end of the socio-economic spectrum. Clearly, the latter would have comprised a
relatively small percentage of the city’s population at any given time in its long history.
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Verhoogt A.M.F.W. 1998. “Greek and Latin Texts”. In Berenike 1996. Report of the 1996
Vermeeren C.E. 1999. “Wood and Charcoal”. In Berenike 1997. Report of the 1997
Excavations at Berenike and the Survey of the Egyptian Eastern Desert, including Excavations at
Shenshef. S.E. Sidebotham and W.Z. Wendrich (eds.), contributors, Leiden: Centre of
Vermeeren C.E. 2000. “Wood and Charcoal”. In Berenike 1996. Report of the 1996
Ward, C. and C. Zazzaro, “Evidence for Pharaonic Seagoing Ships at Mersa/Wadi
Gawasis, Egypt,” International Journal of Nautical Archaeology 39, 1 (2010): 27-43.
Ward, C. and C. Zazzaro, “Ship-related Activities at the Pharaonic Harbour of Mersa
Gawasis,” in M.-F. Boussac, J.-F. Salles and J.-P. Yon, eds., Ports of the Ancient Indian Ocean
(Delhi: Primus Books, 2016): 21-40.
Zieliński J. 2011. “Archaeobotanical Remains”. In Berenike 2008-2009. Report on the
Excavations at Berenike, Including a Survey in the Eastern Desert. S.E. Sidebotham and I. Zych
(eds.), contributors, Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology, University of Warsaw
Excavation Series 1, Warsaw, pp. 59-66.
FOOTNOTES
1. For a synopsis up to 2009-2010 see Sidebotham 2011a; Sidebotham and Zych 2011 and
Sidebotham and Zych 2010; for 2011-2012 and later see Sidebotham and Zych 2012; Sidebotham
2014; Sidebotham 2015; Sidebotham forthcoming a; Sidebotham and Zych 2016; Sidebotham 2017.
575
2. Hense, Kaper and Geerts 2015 for the stelai from Berenike; Bard and Fattovich 2007, 2011,
2013 record an expedition sent by sea from that roadstead to Punt during year 8 of the reign of
Amenemhat IV: Bard and Fattovich 2007a, p. 242; Tallet 2009, pp. 697; Ward and Zazzaro 2010,
2016; Ledesma 2011; Mahfouz 2010; Bard and Fattovich 2011, p. 110 and note 27; 111 Table 2; 119;
Bard and Fattovich 2013; Tallet 2016, pp. 3-6; Bard and Fattovich forthcoming.
3. Sidebotham 2007, pp. 31, 32, 35-36.
4. Sidebotham 2007, p. 35.
5. Sidebotham and Zych 2016, pp; 21-24.
6. Pfeiffer 2008, p. 393.
7. Ast and Bagnall 2011, 2016.
8. Sidebotham 2007, pp. 43, 59-60, 76, 77, 164 ; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 81, 118 ; Sidebotham and
Zych 2012, p. 37.
9. Nicholson 2000, pp. 203-205.
10. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, pp. 90-91; Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 38-39;
Bagnall, Jacobsen and Cuvigny 2001; Bagnall, Helms, Verhoogt, et al. 2005, pp. 23-27 (no. 120);
Pintozzi 2007; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 107-108.
11. Sidebotham 1995, pp. 87-91; Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 37; Haeckl 2007.
12. Sidebotham 1995, pp. 91-93; Sidebotham and Zitterkopf 1996, pp. 384-391; Sidebotham and
Wendrich 1998, p. 90; Sidebotham, Barnard, Pearce and Price 2000; Bagnall 2000; Sidebotham
2011a, pp. 97-99, 108, 111, 163-164, 240.
13. Sidebotham 2011a, p. 66 in general; passim for specifics and bibliography.
14. Sidebotham and Zych 2012, pp. 31-32.
15. Sidebotham 2011a, p. 76.
16. Hayes 1996, pp 149-150, 154 (Table 6-8, top entry), 155 (Table 6-9), 166, 168-169; Sidebotham,
Hense and Nouwens 2008, Pl. 7.10; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 231; Personal communication from
R.S. Tomber.
17. Sidebotham, Hense, Nouwens 2008, Pl. 15.4; Sidebotham, Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 26-27;
Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 76-77.
18. Hense 2007, pp. 218-219.
19. Ast and Bagnall 2011, 2016.
20. Bagnall, Helms and Verhoogt 2000, pp. 80-81 (under category “4 Official and military terms
and titles”); Bagnall, Helms, Verhoogt, et al. 2005, pp. 116-117 (under category “4 Official and
Military”); Hense 2007, p. 219
21. Sidebotham, Wendrich 1998, p. 92; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 66 and passim for bibliography.
22. Bagnall, et al., 2005, pp. 28-29 (no. 122).
23. Sidebotham 1996, pp. 81-93; Sidebotham 1998, pp. 20-45; Sidebotham 1999, pp. 57-80;
Sidebotham 2000, pp. 44-73; Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, pp. 92-95; Sidebotham 2011a,
pp. 64-66, 84, 86, 226, 227, 230, 259, 260, 264-265, 267-268; Sidebotham 2014, pp. 611-613.
24. Sidebotham 1996, pp. 81-93; Sidebotham 1998, pp. 20-45; Sidebotham 1999, pp. 57-80;
Sidebotham 2000, pp. 44-73; Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, pp. 92-95; Sidebotham 2011a,
pp. 64-66, 84, 86, 226, 227, 230, 259, 260, 264-265, 267-268; Sidebotham 2014, pp. 611-613.
25. Dijkstra and Verhoogt 1999; Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, pp. 93-94; Sidebotham 2011a,
pp. 64-66, 84, 86, 226, 259-260, 265, 267; Sidebotham 2014, p. 612.
26. Sidebotham 2007, p. 41; Hense 2007, p. 217.
27. Sidebotham and Zych 2012, p. 40; Sidebotham 2014, p. 619; Sidebotham 2015, p. 342.
28. Meredith 1957; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 16-18; Hense, Kaper and Geerts 2015, pp. 585-586;
Sidebotham and Zych 2016, pp. 11-18.
29. Meredith 1957, p. 69 misidentifies this inscription as belonging to Ptolemy VII.
30. cf. Hölbl 2000, pp. 18-20, 26, 27; Hölbl 2001, pp. 257-271.
31. Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 32-67; Habicht 2013.
576
32. Meredith 1957.

33. Sidebotham and Zych 2010, pp. 16-17; Sidebotham and Zych 2012, pp. 36-37; Sidebotham
2014, pp. 609-611.
34. Sidebotham and Zych 2012, pp. 36-37; Sidebotham 2014, p. 609.
35. Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 64-66, 84-86, 226-227, 230, 259-260, 264-268; Sidebotham 2014,
pp. 611-613.
36. Sidebotham and Zych 2010, pp. 15-19; Sidebotham and Zych 2012, pp. 33-36; Sidebotham
2014, pp. 602-609; Sidebotham 2015, pp. 343-346.
37. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, pp. 94-95; Sidebotham 2000, pp. 134-144; Sidebotham and
Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 30-31; Sidebotham 2007, pp. 77-89; Sidebotham 2014, pp. 616-617.
38. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, pp. 87-88; Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 32-35;
Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 272, 274; Sidebotham 2014, pp. 617-619.
39. Sidebotham 2000, p. 60; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 84; Sidebotham 2014, pp. 612-613.
40. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 27 and Fig. 7; Sidebotham 2007, pp. 45-46;
Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 57, 58; Sidebotham 2014, p. 621.
41. Haeckl 1999.
42. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 32; Bagnall, Helms, Verhoogt, et al. 2005, pp. 21-22
(nos. 118-119) and 27-28 (no. 121); Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 84-85, 266; Sidebotham 2014,
pp. 619-629.
43. Hense 2007, p. 213 and Fig. 9-6.
44. Sidebotham and Zych 2016, pp. 22, 24.
45. Barnard 1998, pp. 92, 94; Sidebotham 1998, pp. 79-96; Sidebotham 2014, p. 622.
46. Sidebotham 1998, p. 51; Barnard 1998, pp. 390, 395-396.
47. Sidebotham and Zych 2016, pp. 25, 26 (figs. 48-49).
48. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 35; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 263; Sidebotham 2014,
pp. 623-624.
49. Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 263-264; Sidebotham 2014, p. 622.
50. Sidebotham 2014, p. 623.
51. Sidebotham 2014, p. 623.
52. Barnard 1998, pp. 389-393, 396; Sidebotham 1998, pp. 107-108; Sidebotham and Wendrich
2001-2002, p. 35; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 279; Sidebotham 2014, p. 622.
53. Sidebotham and Zych 2012, p. 32; Sidebotham 2014, p. 623; Sidebotham 2015, p. 342.
54. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 35-36.
55. Barnard 1998, pp. 389-393; Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 35-36; Sidebotham 2007,
p. 36; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 279; Sidebotham 2014, pp. 622-623.
56. Sidebotham and Zych 2016, pp. 22-24.
57. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 35; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 263; Sidebotham 2014,
p. 623.
58. Sidebotham 1998, pp. 101-108; Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 25-26; Sidebotham
2007, p. 43; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 279.
59. Hense 2007, p. 216; Sidebotham 2007, p. 35.
60. Hense 2007, pp. 217-218; Sidebotham 2007, pp. 35, 36-37, 41, 43, 164.
61. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 26.
62. Hense 2007, pp. 216-217; Sidebotham 2007, p. 164; Sidebotham 2008, p. 307; Sidebotham
2011a, p. 205.
63. Hense 2007, pp. 216, 217; Sidebotham 2007, pp. 40, 41, 42, 164.
64. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 26-27; Sidebotham 2007, p. 43 (Fig. 4-9);
Sidebotham 2011a, p. 57.
65. Sidebotham 2007, pp. 76, 77; Sidebotham and Zych 2016, pp. 6, 7 (Fig. 8).
66. Gwiazda and Khan forthcoming.
577
67. Gwiazda forthcoming.

68. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 7; Sidebotham 2007, pp. 45-46; Sidebotham 2011a,
pp. 57-58; Sidebotham 2014, p. 621.
69. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, p. 92.
70. Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 268-271.
71. Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 268-271.
72. Sidebotham 2011a, p. 269.
73. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 26-27, 41; Sidebotham, Hense and Nouwens 2008,
pp. 162, 164; Sidebotham and Zych 2010, pp. 10-11; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 55, 117; Sidebotham
and Zych 2012, p. 31.
74. Personal communication from M. Osypińska.
75. Sidebotham and Zych 2010, p. 10; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 39-53; Sidebotham and Zych 2012,
p. 31.
76. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, p. 41; Sidebotham and Zych 2010, p. 10; Sidebotham
and Zych 2012, p. 31; portions of elephant skull: personal communication from M. Osypińska.
77. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, pp. 87-88, 94; Sidebotham 2008, pp. 313-314; Sidebotham
2011a, pp. 60-61.
78. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, p. 91; Sidebotham 2008, pp. 310-311; Sidebotham and Zych
2010, pp. 20-21; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 84, 85, 203, 204-205, 239 (240 for use in nearby fort in Wâdi
Kalalat), 265; Sidebotham 2015, p. 342.
79. Sidebotham forthcoming.
80. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, p. 91; Sidebotham and Zych 2010, pp. 20-21; Sidebotham and
Zych 2012, pp. 32-33; Sidebotham 2015, p. 342.
81. Sidebotham and Zych 2010, p. 21; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 242; Sidebotham 2011b, pp. 27-42.
82. Sidebotham 1996; Sidebotham 2008, pp. 309-311; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 202.
83. Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, p. 91; Sidebotham 2008, pp. 308-309; Sidebotham and Zych
2012, p. 33 (wood/horn brailing rings and lead hull sheathing); Sidebotham 2015, pp. 342-343.
84. Sidebotham and Zych 2016, p. 5.
85. Sidebotham and Zych 2016, p. 11.
86. Bagnall, Helms and Verhoogt 2000; Bagnall, Helms, Verhoogt, et al. 2005, pp. 8-9, 60, 62-65,
76-78; Sidebotham 2008, p. 308.
87. Bagnall, Helms, Verhoogt, et al. 2005, pp. 45-47 (no. 131); Sidebotham 2008, p. 308.
88. Bagnall, Helms and Verhoogt 2000, p. 61 (no. 86).
89. Vermeeren 1999, p. 319; Vermeeren 2000, pp. 340-341; Sidebotham 2008, pp. 310-311;
Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 84, 85, 204-205, 239-240, 265.
90. Vermeeren 1999, p. 319; Vermeeren 2000, pp. 340-341; Sidebotham 2008, pp. 310-311;
Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 84, 85, 204-205, 239-240, 265.
91. Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 203, 204-205, 239-240; cf. Tripati, et al. 2016.
92. The possible iron anchor fluke in the wall north of the Great Temple has never been
published; a drawing of the one in the Christian ecclesiastical structure appears in Sidebotham, et
al. 2008, p. 155, Fig. 7-4 (bottom left), but also remains otherwise unpublished.
93. Peacock, Williams and James 2007, p. 59; Sidebotham and Zych 2010, pp. 12-13; Sidebotham
2011a, pp. 61-62, 205, 236; Sidebotham 2015, p. 347.
94. Cappers 2006; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 223-234; Zieliński 2011. Some of his botanical
identifications are inaccurate and/or very questionable.
95. Unidentified: Sidebotham 2007, pp. 43-44; from Rhodes: Sidebotham and Zych 2012,
pp. 31-32.
96. Cappers 2006; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 76, 223-234; Van Neer and Lentacker 1996; Van Neer
and Ervynck 1998, 1999; Zieliński 2011.
578
97. Sundelin 1996; Dieleman 1998; Cashman, et al. 1999; Bos and Helms 2000; Bos 2007; Mulder
2007; Gates-Foster forthcoming.
98. Sidebotham and Zych 2012, p. 40; Sidebotham 2015, p. 342.
99. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 28-29.
100. Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 199-200; Sidebotham and Zych 2012, pp. 37-40; Sidebotham 2015,
p. 347.
101. Sidebotham 2000, pp. 120-134; Sidebotham 2011a, p. 278; Sidebotham 2015, p. 347;
Sidebotham forthcoming.
102. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 28-29; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 68-86.
103. Sidebotham and Wendrich 2001-2002, pp. 28-29; Sidebotham 2011a, pp. 259-275;
Sidebotham 2014, pp. 602-609.
104. Sidebotham and Zych 2012, p. 38; Sidebotham 2015, p. 347; Sidebotham and Zych 2016,
p. 24; personal communication from M. Osypińska.
105. Sidebotham and Zych 2010, p. 11 and Fig. 5.
AUTHOR
Professor of Ancient History at Delaware University (USA)
579
The Great Temple of Berenike

Martin Hense
Introduction
1 Recent excavations in the Great Temple of Berenike, the first substantial ones since the
19th century, began in early 2011 with several test trenches. These test trenches proved
the existence of still undisturbed archaeological layers, notwithstanding excavations
conducted here during the 19th century. The Berenike Temple Project1 aims at a
thorough investigation of the temple complex to document its architecture and history,
its links with the town and inhabitants and the influence the international character of
the town had on its functioning.
Early research in the temple

2 When Giovanni Batista Belzoni (re)discovered Berenike on 8 October 1818, he found in
the centre of the town “...a small temple, nearly covered by the sand...The temple is
built of a kind of soft, calcareous, and sandy stone, but decayed much by the air of the
sea”.2
3 Belzoni estimated the temple to be over 25 meters long. Although his description of the
temple plan is somewhat confusing,3 the sketch he produced gives a fairly accurate
view of its general layout. Although he did not see the front wall of the building, he
suspected the building to have a large front hall (Fig. 1a).
4 In spite of the absence of any digging equipment, which the expedition remarkably
failed to bring, Belzoni ordered excavation of a part of the temple. To make matters
worse, the absence of potable water in the vicinity forced the expedition to leave the
next day. As a result, in the middle of the night and with only the light of the full moon,
an Egyptian boy named Mussa started excavating a temple room with a big shell. In the
meantime, Belzoni continued to survey the area immediately south of Berenike. Upon
his return to Berenike at 10 in the morning, Belzoni found that Mussa had dug a hole,
580
1.20 m deep, close to a corner of a temple room where he exposed a relief on the wall
and unearthed a stela fragment.4
5 Eight years later, John Gardner Wilkinson visited the site and made the first detailed
plan of the town. On this plan, the temple has a length of about 23 meters (Fig. 1b).
Wilkinson excavated room 1 and a small section of room 2 (Fig. 1c). He probably also
unearthed a small part of the large front hall, which he called a portico. His notes
contain drawings of inscriptions with cartouches, which he thought to be of the
emperor Marcus Aurelius (r. 161-180 AD) on both sides of the entrance to room 1.5
Fig. 1
Plan of the temple, based on the results of the 2015 season and earlier
research. Small plans based on the drawings of Belzoni (1a: based on G.B.
Belzoni, Narrative, 3rd edition (London 1822), Pl. 32.) and Wilkinson (1b:
based on a detail of the Wilkinson plan of Berenike (Ms. J.G. Wilkinson
XLV D.11, Gardner Wilkinson papers from Calke Abbey, Bodleian Library,
Oxford).
© M. Hense
6 In the hieroglyphic inscriptions, Wilkinson also identified cartouches of the emperor

Tiberius (r. 14-37 AD). Among the material he unearthed in room 1 was a fragment of a
stela with a Greek text, reconstructed by Wilkinson as containing a dedication to
Serapis, and a bust of Serapis with another dedication. Other finds included figurines
and a large offering basin.6 Near the northern wall of room 1 Wilkinson found a ceiling
block decorated with stars, a vulture and cartouches of a Roman emperor. As he
produced a drawing of the papyrus pattern at the base of the wall, he must have
cleared a part of the room, approaching floor level to 50 centimeters or less. In his
notes Wilkinson does not mention any stone floor, so he must have left a layer of sand
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and debris, possibly up to 25 centimeters thick. In room 2, near the southern wall, were
several fallen ceiling blocks decorated with stars and an inscription containing the
name of the emperor Tiberius. The roof of room 5 was still partly in situ in 1826 and
Wilkinson found here remains of a wall on top of the roof blocks.7 Rooms 3, 4, the
corridor and the stairway were still completely roofed.
7 In 1836 James Wellsted visited Berenike and excavated a small part of the temple. The
plan he made is evidence in this period that less than half of the building was visible at
the surface. Wellsted solved this by mirroring the southern part of the plan, creating a
non-existant, symmetric temple with two staircases. It seems that he was unaware of
the plans made by Belzoni and Wilkinson.
8 Although he had limited time, Wellsted managed to excavate a large part of the
sanctuary (room 2), which appeared to have been previously partially excavated,
probably by Wilkinson. After removing the sand to a depth of about 1.5 meters, he
discovered several figures on the walls. As he proceeded it became clear that the
figures of deities and the king were arranged in groups along the walls. He found two
fragments of a stela with a Greek inscription, containing a dedicatory text of a
Ptolemaic king. To access the room Wellsted dislodged several massive roofing stones.8
9 Arriving in Berenike in 1846, Heinrich Barth was disappointed to find remains of a
town, “barely more than a trash heap” with even the temple not standing out. His
observation that the temple, although covered with hieroglyphic texts and reliefs had
no inscription dated before the reign of Tiberius,9 is probably based on the reports of
Wilkinson. Nevertheless, he produced measurements of the visible remains of the
temple before leaving for the mountain site of Shenshef.
10 When the explorer Theodor von Heuglin arrived in Berenike on the 6th of July 1857 by
means of a small local freight ship hired at Quseir, he saw “a temple of large limestone
blocks...probably originating from stone quarries I discovered about 2 miles north west
of the ruins...”.10 He found the temple inaccessible as it was buried in the sand up to the
roof slabs. The visible stone surface was so eroded that no inscriptions or reliefs were
visible, except for an upturned roof block with stars. Although most of the temple was
covered by sand, traces of recent excavations were still visible.11
11 In 1864, German botanist and traveler Georg August Schweinfurth, during a short visit
to the site, found a single excavated room, “sized 15 x 15 feet”, already partly buried
under the sand. At the entrance a roof slab was the only block visible decorated with
five pointed stars.12 Most likely this was the same block that Wellsted had observed
seven years before.
12 As part of the plan to modernize the Egyptian army, in 1870 the Egyptian ruler Ismail
Pasha hired fifty veterans of the American Civil War. Among them was Erastus Sparrow
Purdy, a Union Army major who was also an experienced surveyor. Purdy was sent on
several expeditions to the south of Egypt and Sudan. In 1870 and 1873 he surveyed the
Berenike region. During his second visit to the area he also visited Berenike.13 With a
group of Egyptian soldiers he excavated parts of the temple. Although it is claimed that
Purdy excavated the temple in its entirety, precisely how much was unearthed during
the 1873 expedition is unclear. After Purdy’s sudden death in 1881 in Cairo his notes of
the expedition were never found. However, in 1922 Daressy discovered a plan of the
temple made by Purdy in the archives of the Institute of Egypt.14 On this plan the
northern and southern walls of the so-called forecourt converge. The plan also shows a
582
huge fallen roof slab in the forecourt. Purdy took some squeezes of the “facade”, in fact
the western wall of the so-called forecourt. When Daressy found these in 1922, they
were already too flat to read. Another detail on the map retrieved during the Purdy
expedition is a crypt under room 8, with the narrow entrance in the “forecourt”.
13 Russian Egyptologist Vladimir Golenischeff traveled to Berenike in 1889, where he saw
only traces of the “forecourt”. Contrary to Purdy’s plan, Golenischeff’s shows the walls
of the “forecourt” to be parallel.15 Golenischeff records the complete decoration of the
inner walls of the entrance to room 2, which means that Purdy excavated this part, as
Wilkinson did not record the lower half of the double row of nb-signs at the lower end
of the inside of the door jambs. This is also the case for room 1, where Wilkinson never
fully documented the northern wall. Golenischeff also recorded several niches in the
still roofed corridor connecting the “forecourt” with room 4. He also noted an oval hole
in the roof of the corridor.16
14 Inspector General of the Egyptian Telegraphs Ernest Floyer made the oldest known
photograph of the temple in 1891. It shows traces of the early excavations, with the
forecourt, room 1 and the corridor entrance partly exposed.
15 The British archaeologist and explorer James Theodore Bent arrived at Berenike during
his voyage along the Red Sea coast on the 1st of January 1896. With his dhow as a base,
he stayed several days and conducted several small excavations, but it is not known if
any of these was in or near the temple. He noted, however, the fading of the temple
reliefs: ...in the centre is an old temple of the date of Tiberius Caesar, the hieroglyphs in which
are rapidly becoming obliterated.17
16 In 1908 Jules Couyat-Barthoux, a French geologist and archaeologist, produced the
second and last photograph known to be made before the start of the excavations in
the late 20th century.
17 In 1922 Daressy found and published a copy of Purdy’s temple plan.18 Daressy pointed
out that in the “forecourt” an enormous roof slab was visible. It seems that the copy,
probably made by one of the members of the Purdy expedition of 1873, showed more
than just a plan, as Daressy’s article also contains several elevations of the temple.
Meredith, in his overview of the research of the temple, found the existence of the roof
slab unlikely. His main reason was the size of the block, but also because neither
Wilkinson, nor Wellsted nor Golenischeff recorded this slab blocking the entrance of
the staircase.19
Berenike project
18 Until the end of the 20th century, no further research took place in Berenike or the
temple. When the Berenike Project started in 199420 the temple was almost completely
buried by windblown sand. Two test trenches revealed that, although the temple had
been excavated during the 19th century, a great deal of archaeological information was
still present.
Excavation of room 3
19 This room in the back of the temple was excavated to check the condition of the stone
and the stability of the walls. This room had clearly been previously excavated as lines
583
of salt on the walls marked the different layers of windblown sand that had filled the
room subsequent to the earlier European excavations. However, the room was never
completely excavated during the 19th century. Clearing revealed a trap door in the
stone floor that had not been recorded on the 19th century plans. The trap door gave
access to a crypt, created by the removal of the silt between the heavy foundation walls
of room 3. It seems that the northern foundation wall was built on top of an older
structure, of which a row of stones emerged in the floor of the crypt. Possibly the
temple stood on a stone platform. In that case, the original floor level around the
temple can be placed well into the levels of the Ptolemaic Period, the tops of which
were excavated in the nearby trench 10 in 1999.
20 The floor of room 3 comprised a series of large stone slabs, resting on the foundation
walls. The very rough surface of the large slabs strongly suggests that they were once
covered with flat paving stones. This is confirmed by a small ledge at the base of the
walls. The walls of the room seem to be a result of several building phases. Possibly the
temple was finished or partly rebuilt during the early Roman period. A portal in to the
sanctuary (room 2), once contained a wooden door, as the lintel contained a slot for a
door pivot block, probably made of bronze.
21 A large fragment of a roof block found resting on the floor of room 3 still preserved
some remnants of a coral wall attached to it. These are probably traces of structures
built on top of the temple, after its abandonment in the 5th century. This confirmed
Wilkinson’s claim that coral walls stood on top of the roof of the adjoining room 5.
The test trench BE11-79
22 In 2011 a small test trench opened against the back wall of the temple revealed a partly
collapsed stone wall close to the surface. This thin gypsum/anhydrite wall was built at
a short distance from the western temple wall. The space in between was filled up with
small irregular stones and coral blocks.
23 During the Roman period, all non-religious buildings in Berenike seem to have been
built of extinct coral heads, with only a few stone ashlars in doorways and corners. The
gypsum/anhydrite wall at the back of the temple must represent a repair of a damaged
wall surface, or the back wall of a small contra-temple. In the wall debris were two
parts of a small stone statue of a crocodile-falcon god. About a dozen parallels of this
type of statuette are known in collections worldwide. All date to the Late Period-
Ptolemaic era, with one exception dating to the 18th dynasty. However, the context of
these statues is unclear.
Trench BE15-112
24 Our project began excavations of the first large trenches in the temple area in early
2015 (Fig. 2).21 In the so-called forecourt we excavated most of the southern part,
leaving the west wall, possibly still with fragile reliefs, untouched. After removing a
thick layer of windblown sand, a large block of stone, 3.15 meters in length and with an
estimated weight of 3500 kilograms emerged thereby corroborating the existence of
the big stone slab on Purdy’s plan (Fig. 3). Fragments of at least two more of these large
roof blocks were excavated here among a layer of large stone debris fragments. Purdy
584
halted excavations at this level, which is evident from a salt layer the border of which
stands out sharply on the debris.
Fig. 2
Overview of the excavations of 2015.

© S.E. Sidebotham
Fig. 3
Large roof block in trench BE15-112.

© M. Hense
25 It seems the decoration of the temple was never finished, as the exposed wall faces
inside the hall are all undecorated. If 19th century research of the rest of the building
was exhaustive, reliefs and inscriptions are only to be found on the outside of the
entrance to the building, the west inner wall of the hall, and in rooms 1 and 2.
585
26 It is now clear that the forecourt was, in fact, a hall roofed with large stone slabs, about
4.5 meters in length, each with a weight of over 4500 kilograms (Fig. 4). The collapse of
the roof of this hall was probably due to a combination of the bad quality of some of the
stone of the walls and weight of the roof. Some time after the collapse, the temple was
put in to use again. A low wall was built on top of the debris in the entrance, most likely
because of risen floor levels outside the temple (Fig. 5).
Fig. 4
Reconstruction of the temple.

© M. Hense
Fig. 5
Entrance of the temple.

© S.E. Sidebotham
586
27 Pottery sherds provide a date of late 4th to early 5 th century AD for the fill behind the
low wall, which means the roof collapsed in the early 5th century the latest. It is not
likely that the whole roof collapsed in a single event. The process leading to a complete
destruction of the roof of a hall of this type however, might have taken place within a
period of a few years.
28 The roof debris layer in BE15-112 seems to rest on a layer of sand, which is probably
over 20 centimeters thick. This indicates that before the collapse of the roof, the temple
had already been abandoned for some time. Excavations in Berenike have shown that
the town was, at best, sparsely populated from the 3rd until the mid 4th century AD. It is
probable that the temple complex in this period underwent little maintenance. Not
only did this lead to the formation of a layer of windblown sand in the hall, but the lack
of maintenance also meant that protective plaster layers on the temple walls were not
repaired. With the stone exposed to wind and moisture, some of the stones weakened
and the roof collapsed on top of the sand covered floor.
29 The top of the fill against the low wall in the entrance contained a group of small cowry
shells. Pottery in the fill provided a 5th century date. These cowry shells are found at
the entrances of several sanctuaries of Late Roman Berenike. This implies that the
temple was still some sort of sanctuary in the 5th century AD.
30 Also between the remains of the roof was the lower part a Roman period stela, and a
small fragment of a bronze statue.
Trench BE15-111
31 In 2015 a second trench was excavated directly east of the temple, exposing the area
directly in front of the building. The upper layers of the trench contained debris
thrown out of the hall during the Purdy excavations of 1873. In addition to the
architectural fragments this layer also contained artifacts lost by the 19th century
expeditions, most likely those of Purdy. Among the objects were a fragment of
porcelain, the neck of a bottle with the cork still in place, and some copper buttons.
32 Excavations of the temple façade documented parts of reliefs directly left and right of
the entrance. On the southern part of the door frame are traces of a relief depicting a
king, probably facing one or two gods. Behind the king is part of a large hieroglyph.
Directly under this relief a band of papyrus plants and lotus flowers indicates the base
of the wall. On the northern side of the entrance is a goddess figure, probably Isis or
Hathor (Fig. 6). Nearby a fragment of marble revetment was found still attached to the
wall. Numerous fragments of these quality polished marble slabs found near the facade
indicate that the temple during the early Roman period was quite richly decorated.
Fig. 6
587
Isis or Hathor depicted on the temple doorway (photograph and

illustration: M. Hense).
© M. Hense
33 Directly south of the entrance, and close to the wall, excavations recorded a large
inscription block, 104 centimeters in height. It was still in its original location, resting
on a pedestal (Fig. 7). This monument was dedicated in the year 9 of the emperor
Claudius (AD 49) to Isis, and its production ordered by Eirenaos, a Greek secretary of
the Receiver’s Department.22 Isis is addressed in this inscription as “the greatest nurse
goddess”. This is a reference to Isis nursing her son Horus-Harpocrates.23 Most likely,
the inscription was a base of a statue or relief (possibly in a miniature shrine) depicting
Isis.24
Fig. 7
588
The Eirenaos inscription in front of the temple.

© S.E. Sidebotham
34 A similar inscription block, also still in situ and over 70 centimeters in height and dated
to the year 15 of Trajan (AD 112/113), was excavated at the northern side of the
courtyard in front of the temple. This monument was set up by Gaius Julius Eucharistos,
secretary of the aromatics magazine, in honor of Gaius Julius Faustinus, “receiver of
Berenike”.25 The inscription also seems to indicate that this block was the base of a
statue.
35 Excavations in 2000, in a large house (BE00-37) close to the temple, documented
another inscription of a secretary. This monument was dedicated to Isis by an
interpreter and secretary, whose name is lost, during the reign of Trajan.26 The same
courtyard also produced two inscriptions dedicated to Zeus, from the reign of Nero.
Several other stones, probably also originating from the temple, were found in this
courtyard. It seems that the courtyard of the temple, and possibly the collapsed hall,
acted as a stone quarry in the late 5th or 6th century. However, the debris in front of the
temple still produced a considerable number of inscription fragments, and among them
was at least one belonging to a monument comparable to the two big inscription blocks.
36 Also in the debris, and evidence that at least some of the stones were part of a wall of
the temple or the courtyard wall, were several wooden dovetail clamps. These clamps
made of acacia can also be seen in the walls of room 3, and in the walls of the façade of
the temple. In general the wood was remarkably well preserved in these trenches. Parts
of wooden structures found in the rubble in the courtyard may have been the remains
of niche frames. In these niches in the courtyard walls, small monuments like stelai
might have been placed.
37 The heap of debris in the courtyard produced fragments of several other types of
objects. A complete large offering basin comprised three fragments found dispersed
through the debris. A relief depicting a cobra, partly shattered by the weight of the
stones on top of it, must have been part of a much larger relief depicting at least
cartouches of a king. Near the northern baulk of the trench excavations recorded a
589
stela, probably of Ptolemaic origin. This stela depicts, Isis, Osiris and Harpocarates in
front of Min. This was another monument that had been originally placed in the
courtyard, before the collapse of the hall.
38 These finds are evidence that the temple was an important sanctuary during the 1st and
2nd century and also into the early third century with inscriptions dated to the reign of
Septimus Severus and Caracalla. During this period statues, shrines, stelai and other
monuments lined the walls of the courtyard in front of the temple building. Although
called a Serapis temple since the early 19th century, the finds now suggest that the
temple was at least also dedicated to Isis.
Ceiling decoration
39 The excavations of 2015 recorded a fragment of the ceiling decoration in the debris in
the hall. The slab of stone is decorated with a pattern of stars, traditional for Egyptian
temple ceilings (Fig. 8). Wilkinson saw at least two fragments, one in room 1 and
another one in room 2. Wilkinson produced a sketch of the second fragment, which
shows the name and titles of a Roman emperor and a part of a vulture. This is
decoration typical for the central axis of the temple ceiling.
Fig. 8
Ceiling fragment with star pattern decoration.

© M. Hense
40 In room 2 Wellsted dislodged several roof blocks. This gave him the opportunity to
uncover several ceiling blocks never seen since the Roman period. On several of these
ceiling blocks the hieroglyphic inscriptions were, according to Wellsted, “in a beautiful
state of preservation”. Theodor Heugling saw another block with stars during his visit
to Berenike in 1857. This ceiling fragment might, however, be one of the blocks
removed from its original location by Wellsted, some twenty years before.
590
Date of the temple
41 The Great Temple of Berenike has an interesting parallel in the temple of Dabod, some
21 kilometers south of Aswan. This Ptolemaic temple has a plan that is more similar to
that of the Serapis temple of Berenike, than any other temple of the Roman era in
Egypt. The indications for several building phases in room 3 also points to a pre-Roman
origin of the temple. The floor of the temple and its courtyard must be situated less
than four meters above current sea level. In neighboring trench 10, excavated during
the 1996- 2000 seasons, late Ptolemaic layers were unearthed at a depth of less than
four meters above current sea level.27
42 In 1838 Wellsted found two fragments of a stela in room 2. This stela is a dedication of
Ptolemy VIII.28 No traces of any Ptolemaic sanctuary were found elsewhere in Berenike
so far, making the Great Temple the most likely original location of this stela.
Middle Kingdom stela fragments
43 Unexpectedly, two fragments belonging to a Middle Kindom stela were found in a

5th century AD layer in front of the temple (Fig. 9). One fragment depicts the cartouche
of Amenemhat IV (c. 1786-1777 BC), the other fragment contains a part of the titles of
an official and mentions regnal year 7. Surprisingly, the fragment found by Belzoni in
1818 was part of the same stela.29
Fig. 9
Two fragments of a Middle Kingdom stela.

© S.E. Sidebotham
591
44 Until recently, the exact location of Belzoni’s excavation was unclear. Although Belzoni
stated that the pit Mussa dug was in the cella, Wilkinson claimed in 1826 to have found
traces of an earlier excavation in the northeast corner of room 1. Based on the recent
excavations, Belzoni’s excavation can now be pinpointed to the northern wall of
room 2, directly west of the entrance to room 3. Belzoni described how the excavations
uncovered the upper half of the entrance to an inner room of the temple. The entrance
to room 1 was, however, already badly damaged during the Roman period. The only
possibility is the entrance to room 3, found still intact in 2011. As the eastern wall right
of this door is too narrow for the two scenes Belzoni sketched, he can only have seen
this relief on the northern wall, directly west of the door.
45 The likely explanation for the presence of this stela in the temple would be that it was
found during the Roman period on a nearby site and brought to the temple. However,
in a radius of 200 kilometers, no Middle Kingdom sites are known. This suggests that in
or close to Berenike there once existed some kind of Middle Kingdom roadstead or
trading post, established to support expeditions to Punt in the South.
46 In 2007, two wooden boxes were found in Wâdi Gawasis located 330 km north of
Berenike.30 The hieroglyphic text on the boxes mentions an expedition to Punt
returning in year 8 of the reign of Amenemhat IV. So, it is possible during the outward
journey or in preparation for the expedition of year 8, that a stop on the way to Punt
was built or put into use again, during which time the stela was dedicated.
47 The presence of this Middle Kingdom stela in this late temple suggests that this already
ancient monument was valued, either for its religious significance or the prestige it
lent to a sanctuary.31
Chronology
48 The evidence thus far recorded from the excavations permits a suggested short
chronology for the temple. The first building phase of the temple, defining at least the
layout of building without the large hall, probably took place in the 3rd century BC.
During the start of the early Roman period, at the latest, the hall was added giving the
building its final form. During the reign of Tiberius, the first reliefs were applied.
49 During the 1st and 2nd centuries AD, the temple had a courtyard lined with monuments,
among them the inscriptions of the secretaries and the Middle Kingdom. Ptolemaic and
Roman period stelai. Reused monuments found in a nearby house along the city’s
decumanus together with inscriptions from the temple itself indicates a period of
activity that continued into at least the early 3rd century AD.
50 A substantial amount of pepper was stored in large jars, dug into the first century AD
floor of a courtyard that lay directly north of the temple. These Indian made storage
jars were excavated in 1999 and one still contained over 7.5 kilograms of black
peppercorns, the largest amount ever found anywhere in the Roman Empire.32 It seems,
assuming this area also belonged to the temple complex, that the temple was also used
in this period as a safe place to store precious trade goods, or that the temple was itself
active in the international trade at that time. Between the late 3rd and up to about the
middle of the 4th century AD, Berenike was at a nadir in its fortunes and the roof of the
hall of the temple collapsed.
592
51 At least during the 5th century, the damaged temple again served as some sort of
sanctuary, as indicated by the cowry shells found in the entrance. To the end of the
5th century, the building was put out of commission and served as a stone quarry for
the nearby houses along the main street directly east of the temple. In the late 5th and
early 6th century, the temple structure was used for domestic activities, during which
structures of coral blocks were built on the roof. Also during this phase, a hole was cut
in the roof of the corridor, maybe because the entrances to the inner rooms were
blocked by debris and windblown sand. After the abandonment of Berenike in the
6th century, windblown sand quickly covered the remaining parts of the temple.
Conclusion
52 The long walls seen by Belzoni and Wilkinson, stretching far beyond the facade, of the
building are probably courtyard walls, which seems to be confirmed by an on-going
geo-magnetic survey of Berenike. The survey, carried out under the direction of
Thomasz Herbich, resulted in a map that shows most of the temple area in some detail.
In this geo-magnetic map, walls of a series of at least two courtyards are visible directly
east of the temple. Not visible on this map, as the area around the temple and
courtyards are covered by late Roman buildings, are a series of workshops and storage
rooms that must have been present in the temple complex. Although during the
19th century there were several excavations in the Great Temple of Berenike, recent
research has proven that the temple and its immediate surroundings still contain a
wealth of archaeological information.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Ast R. and Bagnall R.S. 2015. “The Receivers of Berenike: New Inscriptions from the
2015 Season”. Chiron, Mitteilungen der Kommission für Alte Geschichte und Epigraphik des
Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts 45, pp. 169–183.
Bard K.A., Fatovich R. and Manzo A. 2013. “The ancient harbor at Mersa/Wâdi Gawasis
and how to get there: New evidence of Pharaonic seafaring expeditions in the Red Sea”.
In Desert Road Archaeology, in Ancient Egypt and beyond. F. Förster and H. Riemer (eds),
Cologne, pp. 533-556.
Barth H. 1859. “Reise von Assuan über Berenike nach Kosser im October und November
1846”. Zeitschrift für Erdkunde, pp. 1-31.
Belzoni G.B. 1821. Narrative of the operations and recent discoveries within the pyramids,
temples, tombs, and excavations, in Egypt and Nubia: and of a journey to the coast of the Red
Sea, in search of the ancient Berenice, and another to the oasis of Jupiter Ammon, 3rd edition,
London.
Bent J.T. 1900. Southern Arabia, London.
593
Daressy M.G. 1922. “Bérénice et El Abraq”. Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte 22,
pp. 169–184.
Floyer E.A. 1893. Étude sur le nord-etbai entre le Nil et la mer rouge, Cairo.
Golénischeff W. 1890. “Une excursion a Bérénice”. Recueil de travaux relatifs à la philologie
et à l’archéologie égyptiennes et assyriennes : pour servir de bulletin à la Mission Française du
Caire (Rec Trav), Bd. 13 (http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/rectrav1890), pp. 75–
96.
Hense M. 2012. “De Serapistempel van Berenike”. Ta-Mery: Jaarlijks magazine voor
vrienden van het oude Egypte 5, p. 92 Fig. 5.
Heuglin T. 1860. “Reise in Nordost-Afrika und längs des Rothen Meeres im Jahre 1857”.
Petermanns Geographische Mitteilungen, vol. 6, pp. 325-358.
Kaper O.E., Hense M. and Geerts R.C. 2015. “A stela of Amenemhet IV from the main
temple at Berenike”. Bibliotheca Orientalis 5-6, pp. 585-601.
Mahfouz E.S. 2010. “Amenemhat IV au ouadi Gaouasis”. BIFAO 110, pp. 165-173.
Mahfouz E.S. 2012. “New epigraphic material from Wâdi Gawasis”. The Red Sea in
Pharaonic Times, recent discoveries along the Red Sea Coast, Proceedings of the Colloqium hel in
Cairo/Ayn Soukhna. P. Tallet and E-S. Mahfouz (eds), pp. 117-132.
Meredith D. 1957. “Berenice Troglodytica”. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 43, pp. 56–70.
Purdy E.S. 1886. Une Reconnaissance entre Bérénice et Berber : Expédition Purdy-Colston,
BskGÉ, 2nd ser., 8, pp. 431-445.
Schweinfurth G.A. 1922. Auf unbetretenen Wegen in Aegypten, Hamburg.
Sidebotham S.E. 2007. “Excavations”. In Berenike 1999/2000: Report on the Excavations at
Berenike, including excavations in Wâdi Kalalat and Siket, and the Survey of the Mons
Smaragdus Region. S.E. Sidebotham and W.Z. Wendrich (eds), Los Angeles.
Wellsted J.R. 1836. “Notices on the Ruins of Berenice”. Journal of the Royal Geographical
Society of London vol. 6, pp. 96-100.
FOOTNOTES
1. The Berenike Temple project is part of the Berenike Project.
2. Belzoni 1821, p. 330.
3. Belzoni 1821, p. 331.
4. Belzoni 1821, p. 332.
5. Wilkinson, MS. XXXVIII, 92; Meredith 1957, pp. 61-62.
6. British Museum, BM no. EA135, possibly of Ptolemaic origin. A drawing appeared in Hense
2012, p. 92 fig. 5.
7. Meredith 1957, p. 69.
8. Wellsted 1836, p. 98.
9. Barth 1859, p. 16.
10. Likely now lost due to 20th century building activities.
11. Heuglin 1860, p. 333.
12. Schweinfurth, 1922, p. 132.
13. Purdy 1886, pp. 431-445.
14. Daressy 1922, p. 170.
15. Golenischeff 1890, Pl. V.
16. Golenischeff 1890, Pl. V.
594
17. Bent 1900, p. 296.

18. Daressy 1922, p. 170.
19. Meredith 1957, pp. 59-60.
20. Directed by S.E. Sidebotham (University of Delaware) and W.Z. Wendrich (University of
Leiden) and H.M. Nouwens (1994-2001), since 2007 by S.E. Sidebotham and I. Zych (Polish Centre
of Mediterranean Archaeology, University of Warsaw).
21. The excavations of the Berenike Temple Project, a sub-project of the Berenike Project, are
conducted by a Dutch-Swedish team, directed by S. Kluitenberg and M. Hense.
22. Ast and Bagnall 2015, p. 172.
26. Sidebotham 2007, pp. 127 and 129.
27. Sidebotham 2007, pp. 54 and 56.
28. Strack 1897, p. 257, nr. 111. This stela probably dates from 124-116 B.C.
29. Kaper, Hense and Geerts 2015, pp. 585-601.
30. Mahfouz 2010, p. 169; Mahfouz 2012, pp. 122-123. In 2005-2006 the remains of a series of
wooden cargo boxes were excavated: Bard, Fatovich and Manzo 2013, pp. 539-540; p. 542;
pp. 546-547, fig. 12.
31. Kaper, Hense and Geerts 2015, pp. 600-601.
32. Sidebotham 2007, pp. 74-75.
AUTHOR
Martin Hense
Archaeologist
595
Berenike in Light of Inscriptions,

Ostraca, and Papyri
Rodney Ast
1 Greek and Latin are not the only languages that survive at Berenike. There is Egyptian
as well, plus some exotic languages, such as South Arabian, Axumite, and Tamil. My
expertise, however, is in Greco-Roman sources, so I will survey only the Greek and
Latin writings, which are extant in ostraca, inscriptions, and papyri totaling well over
700 objects. Our earliest Greek text is a fragmentary inscription dated to the second
half of the second century BC (I.Pan 70 = http://inscriptions.packhum.org/text/219386?
&bookid=372&location=9). It comes from the Great Temple and contains part of a
dating clause plus a reference to somebody with the rank of chief bodyguard
(archisomatophylax). The latest dated text that we have is a well-known temple
dedication from Sikait, which was put up at some point during the sole reign of
Gallienus, in the 260s (SB 5.8384 = I.Pan 69 = http://inscriptions.packhum.org/text/
219385?bookid=372&location=9). Insecurely dated material from the region, such as the
possible gravestone for Adidos of Pharan, found at Wâdi Lahma, pushes the extant
Greek evidence as late as the 6th century (Sidebotham-Zitterkopf-Helms 2000,
pp. 123-126).
2 The bulk of written material comes, however, from the first century AD. It can be
divided into two principal groups: the first are the ostraca belonging to the Nicanor
archive, which were first published in 1930 and re-edited in 2012 (O.Petr. Mus. 112-206).
These are mainly receipts for the transport of goods between Coptos and Berenike and
Coptos and Myos Hormos. They are dated as early as 6 BC and as late as AD 68, with
most written in the reigns of Tiberius (14-37) and Claudius (41-54). The second group
are texts that have been found in excavations conducted by Steve Sidebotham and his
team over the past couple decades. These documents tend to come from the third
quarter of the first century, as late as the emperor Titus (79-81). In addition to the two
groups, there exists a handful of inscriptions from the reigns of Domitian (81-96) and
Trajan (98-117), which round out the first century and give us a peek at the second.
3 This brief sketch should give some idea of the chronological horizon of our texts. As for
content, much of the documentation centers on the activities of bands of cameldrivers.
596
In fact, if I had to give my paper a subtitle and if there were not some exceedingly
interesting texts that were not related to cameldrivers, I might have called it “A
Century of Camel-driving Around Berenike.” The cameldrivers, who were organized in
groups called dekaniai, or ten packs, each of which was led by a dekanos, provided
crucial support to operations throughout the Eastern Desert, whether quarrying, trade,
or other (O.Did., pp. 57-67). These individuals, mainly men but the occasional woman,
bear mostly Egyptian names, many of them theophoric, as well as mixed Greek-
Egyptian filiations. Their family-operated businesses, if we can call them that, survived
multiple generations. Viewing Berenike through the lens of the cameldrivers allows us
to consider a number of important topics related to the site, such as trade, religion, the
Roman army, society, and culture.
4 Let us look at our first group of ostraca, receipts from the Nicanor archive. Nicanor was
a cameldriver and he, his brothers, and his sons ensured delivery of goods to agents at
Myos Hormos and Berenike, who were acting on behalf of merchants, some of whom
were big international traders and others, leading local men, especially from Coptos.
The most common commodities found in the ostraca are wheat and wine, but we also
have receipts for pharmaka (medicines and other agents, some of which may have been
used for textile dyeing, O.Petr. Mus. p. 164); the receipts also concern deliveries of
barley, lentils, anise, tow, leather bags, oil, bread, wood planks, clothing, etc (see the
discussion of goods in Ruffing 1993).
5 We usually cannot tell if the goods were meant for people living in Berenike, or for
outgoing sailors, or for sale abroad. E. Denecker and K. Vandorpe have suggested in a
study of amphora seals that wine and pharmaka were the primary export goods and that
wheat was for local consumption (Denecker-Vandorpe, p. 123). Ruffing tends to the
view that most goods were for consumption in the harbors (Ruffing 1993, pp. 23-24). If
any wheat was being exported to foreign markets, it was probably in small quantities
(Periplus 24, 28).
6 The best way to illustrate the contents of the Nicanor ostraca is to let them speak for
themselves.
̣ ̣ ̣ο̣υ̣ς Μ̣άρκου Ἰουλίου Ἀλεξάνδρου Νικάνο-
ρι Πανῆτος χαίρειν. ἔχω παρὰ σου̑ ἐπὶ Βε-
ρενείκης εἰς τὸν Μάρκου Ἰουλίου Ἀλε-
ξάνδρου του̑ ἐμου̑ κυρίου λόγον φάλανγας
5 φι̣λυρίνας ἑπτὰ (ἔτους) γ Τιβερίο̣υ̣ Κλα̣υδί̣ο̣υ
Κα̣ί̣σ̣α̣ρος Σεβαστου̑ Γερμαν̣ι̣κ̣ο̣υ̑ Αὐτοκ̣ρ̣ά̣-
τ̣ο̣ρ̣ο̣ς̣ Ἐπε<ὶ>φ κ (hand 2) Κόσμος Μάρκου Ἰ̣ο̣υ̣λ̣ί̣ο̣υ̣ Ἀλεξάν̣δ̣ρ̣ο̣υ̣
ἔχω τὰ προκίμενα.
(O.Petr. Mus. 173 = O.Petr. 267 = C.Pap. Jud. 2, 419c =

http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.petr.mus;;173)
597
“-ous, slave of Marcus Julius Alexander to Nicanor son of Panes, greetings. I have from you at
Berenike on the account of my master, Marcus Julius Alexander, 7 beams of linden wood. Year 3
of Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus Emperor, Epeiph 20. (Hand 2) I Kosmos slave of
Marcus Julius Alexander have the aforementioned goods.”
This receipt was submitted to Nicanor by an agent of the merchant Marcus Julius
Alexander. In it, the agent, a probable slave named Kosmos, acknowledges delivery of
pieces of linden wood, which are assigned to the account (or logos) of his master,
Marcus Julius Alexander. The date is July 14, 43. Marcus Julius is illustrative of one of
the types of people involved in trade in the Eastern Desert: he was a member of a
prominent Jewish family at Alexandria; his brother, Tiberius Julius Alexander, was
prefect of Egypt; his uncle was the philosopher Philo; his father Alexander, arabarch at
Alexandria, was the magistrate responsible for the collection of customs dues; Marcus
himself was married to the daughter of King Herod Agrippa I. We are thus talking about
high society, by any measure.
7 Marcus Julius Alexander is not the only merchant of high standing who appears in
these receipts. There is at least one other arabarch, possibly two, and one high-ranking
equestrian, named Gaius Norbanus Ptolemaios, who served simultaneously as iuridicus
and idios logos in the reign of the emperor Nero (Denecker-Vandorpe 2007, p. 122;
Cuvigny 1998). In addition to these men, we also encounter imperial freedmen with
commercial interests at Berenike. Notable among them is Gaius Julius Epaphroditos, a
slave of the house of Augustus. He is mentioned in nearly a dozen ostraca from the
Julio-Claudian period that have been found in the early Roman dump at Berenike
(Fig. 1a and 1b) and in one plaster jar stopper, probably from AD 18/19 (Denecker-
Vandorpe, p. 122; the ostraca are O.Berenike 1.80-85 and O.Berenike 2.184-188).
Fig. 1a
O.Berenike 1.84 (inv. 19047).

Fig. 1b
598

8 A third group of merchants comprises members of the local Egyptian elite. An

important and well-attested representative of them is the family of Paminis son of
Parthenios, who along with his sons Parthenios, Paniskos, and Psenpnouthis appear in
both papyrological and inscriptional sources (Bingen 1984, pp. 360-361). The family
belonged to the Egyptian priestly class at Coptos, and some of their names are common
to the area. “Paminis” and “Paniskos,” for example, point to the cult of Min/Pan, the
principal god at Coptos, and are thus typical of local onomastics. Indeed, many
Egyptian names attested in Berenike during this period reflect the primary cults in and
around Coptos, namely, those of Min/Pan, Isis, Horos, Harpocrates, and Geb (see the
intro. to O.Berenike 1 and 2).
9 Paminis and his family appear as merchants in ca. 10 ostraca from the Nicanor archive,
in which their account is credited with shipments of wheat. In a receipt dated to AD 29
(O.Petr. Mus. 158 = O.Petrie 231 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.petr.mus;;158), an
agent called Haryothes, another local name which means “the healthy Horos,”
acknowledges receipt at Berenike on the account of Paminis and his son Paniskos of 24
artabas of wheat. If we knew nothing of the family, we might have supposed that
Paminis and sons were just some hellenized locals operating a trading business. But we
do know more.
10 In addition to the ostraca, there are over twenty Greek and Egyptian inscriptions from
Coptos that attest, above all, Paminis’s son Parthenios. In these, he is usually described
as a representative (Grk. προστάτης) of Isis, and in one, he dedicates, together with his
father Paminis, a peribolos to Isis, Harpocrates, and Pan. The inscriptions concerning
Parthenios date from the reigns of Tiberius to Nero. A typical example of one of
Parthenios’s dedications is I.Portes 58 ( http://inscriptions.packhum.org/text/219877?
&bookid=375&location=9), which was erected for the god Kronos, Isis’s father, on July 5,
32. The Greek part of it reads: “On behalf of Tiberius Caesar Augustus, year 18, Epeiph
11. For Kronos the greatest god. Parthenios son of Paminis, prostates of Isis.”
599
11 A bilingual Hieroglyphic/Demotic stele from the reign of Nero (Farid 1995, no. 14)
paints a very similar picture of Parthenios, where, again, he is said to be Isis’s servant —
the importance of Isis, not only at Coptos, but also at Berenike, is something that we
will return to. The sheer number of inscriptions attesting Parthenios, plus his family’s
obvious high standing in the Nicanor archive, combine to show the family’s
prominence within the Coptite community of elite Egyptian families.
12 It should be noted, too, that a dekanos named Parthenios son of Paminis appears in the
water archive discovered at Berenike in 2009 (O.Berenike 3.326 = http://
www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;3;326, 359 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/
o.berenike;3;359, 409 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;3;409, 420 = http://
www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;3;420, and 426 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/
o.berenike;3;426). It is tempting to identify him with the man we have been discussing,
who is attested as early as AD 21/22 and as late as the early 60s, but given the presumed
date of the water archive in the reigns of Vespasian and Titus (that is, the late 60s to
early 80s), it might be someone else, perhaps a member of the same family.
13 In the Nicanor ostraca, we likely get our earliest evidence for international trade at
Berenike. Texts found in the early Roman dump at the site and published in O.Berenike 1
and 2 by Roger Bagnall, Arthur Verhoogt, and Christina Helms expand this view. The
majority of these documents are orders to allow passage through the gate at Berenike.
They were issued by customs agents at Coptos to colleagues in Berenike for
cameldrivers delivering goods to the harbor. By allowing passage, the ostraca
presumably confirm receipt of customs dues at Coptos. Unlike the Nicanor texts, the
customs passes are seldom dated, but archeological context, individuals attested also in
other texts, and the few dates that we do get suggest a timeframe in the third quarter
of the first century.
14 The customs passes are especially valuable for the light they shed on some of the
export commodities that were sent to Berenike, above all, Italian and Laodicean wine.
We know from the Periplus (6 and 49) that precisely these two wines were sought at the
Axumite port of Adulis and at Barygaza in India. In O.Berenike 1.39 (http://
www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;1;39) (Fig. 2), a man bearing the Semitic name
Rhobaos tells those at the gate in Berenike to let Heracles pass with his 20 hollow-
lidded jars of Italian wine and 28 Laodicean, which are to be loaded on to the ship (eis
exartismon). While we cannot be sure that the wine was not meant to be consumed by
those on the ship, it is very possible that it was destined for a foreign market.
Fig. 2
600

15 As an aside, I will mention that, in addition to Greek, Roman, and Egyptian onomastics,
written records from Berenike offer the occasional Semitic (e.g. Palmyrene and
Nabataean), Thracian, Celtic, Germanic, and even Barbarian names, that is, those of
barbarians resident in the Eastern Desert who interacted with the Greek and Latin
speakers. Such diverse onomastics lend a multi-ethnic feel that is characteristic of a
port city.
16 Supplementing what we have learned about trade operations from caches of ostraca
such as the customs passes, two Greek inscriptions found in 2015 in an enclosed area
near the entrance to the Great Temple (Fig. 3) have given us welcome information
about the bureaucracy that supported trade, as well as insight into local religion (Ast,
Bagnall 2015). Although the texts were incised more than sixty years apart –one is from
the year 49, the other from 112– they are both concerned with the office of the
Receiver, or paralemptes, and both commissioned by secretaries, grammateis.
17 The paralemptes was a customs offical who worked at Myos Hormos and, as the new
inscriptions tell us, also at Berenike. He was presumably not the same as the officer
with this title in Alexandria and Leuke Kome who oversaw collection of the 25% state
tax. Our paralemptes was responsible for assessing imported goods at the port and for
their storage and later delivery. (Fig. 3) The earlier inscription is a dedication to Isis the
greatest nurse goddess (trophos megiste). It was commissioned by Eirenaios son of
Harpochration, the secretary of the department of the paralemptes.
Fig. 3
601
BE15-111/015/005 (AD 49, July 24).

18 The second, later inscription accompanied a statue of the Receiver of Berenike

(paralemptes Berenikes), Gaius Julius Faustinus. (Fig. 4) It was commissioned by the
secretary of the spice magazine (apotheke aromatike), Gaius Julius Eucharistos, a possible
freedman whose act of dedicating a monument to the paralemptes gives good indication
of the importance and high standing of the Receivers in the eyes of those who relied on
them, such as their secretaries.
Fig. 4
BE15 -111/021/002 (AD 112, July 25).

19 We knew from the so-called Muziris papyrus (SB 18.13167 = http://www.papyri.info/

ddbdp/sb;18;13167) of a public storage facility at Coptos, where taxes on imported
goods were presumably paid. Reference to a spice magazine at Berenike shows that
storage facilities existed at the harbor, too. There, the pepper, myrrh, frankincense,
602
nard, malabathron, and other spices and aromatics coming from the East were
probably first assessed and then sealed before delivery to Coptos and, from there, to
Alexandria. A small proportion of the imports might have been taxed and unloaded for
consumption at Berenike and other places in the Eastern Desert.
20 In addition to shedding some light on customs administration, the first inscription
provides insight into local religious practice. Of all the deities attested in Greek
inscriptions, Zeus and Isis are the most common, each the recipient of three
dedications. We saw the prominence of the goddess Isis at Coptos in our examination of
Parthenios son of Paminis, the merchant and prostates of Isis. By calling her Isis trophos,
the dedication found in 2015 gives us the first explicit textual evidence for her very
common iconographical representation as the nurse of her son Harpocrates-Horos. The
earliest stele to mention Parthenios son of Paminis (I.Pan 78 = http://
inscriptions.packhum.org/text/219394?&bookid=372&location=9), the dedication of a
peribolos to Isis, Harpocrates, and Pan set up by Paminis in the year 21/22, shows us Isis
in precisely this guise. (Fig. 5)
Fig. 5
I.Pan 78a (AD 21/22).

21 And there is more evidence for the cult of Isis at Berenike. Reliefs on the facade of the
Great Temple featured her and Harpocrates, and Wilkinson’s papers record finding a
damaged figure of Isis and Horos (Meredith 1957, p. 70). Moreover, many of the reliefs
in the temple dating to the time of Tiberius are said to have featured Isis, which
prompted G. Höbl to state, “Es spricht viel dafür, daß Isis als Schutz- und Heilgöttin für
die Reisenden in dem ägyptischen Heiligtum julisch-claudischer Zeit die weibliche
Hauptgottheit war; neben ihr standen Osiris und Harpokrates” (Ηölbl 2005: 20). Finally,
603
a private letter preserved on papyrus discovered in 2011 mentions a sanctuary of Isis,

although it is unclear if the sanctuary was located in Berenike (P.Pintaudi 53 = O.Berenike
3.270.20 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/p.pintaudi;;53). The papyrus is said to have
been found near a wooden stylus and a cat mummy. Given the association of Isis with
cats, the mention of cats alongside a large quantity of roses in an ostracon found in
2000 (O.Berenike 2.195 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;2;195) could also
reflect activity within her cult.
22 In addition to texts featuring Isis, two water receipts edited in O.Berenike 3 refer to
deities: one (3.282 = P.Poethke 2 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/p.poethke;;2; cf. also
3.443 = P.Poethke 4 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/p.poethke;;4) alludes to a
mysterious sanctuary called the endelechisterion of the supreme god Kronos (Egyptian
Geb and father of Isis), and the other (3.318 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/
o.berenike;3;318) mentions the goddess Berenike, presumably the deified Berenike I.
The texts are brief and not primarily concerned with the deities they refer to, so we do
not learn anything more than the possible existence of their cults.
23 With these water receipts we arrive at the final stop on our camel-driving tour, the
water-supply archive discovered in 2009, which is published in O.Berenike 3. It consists
of around 175 ostraca, mostly Greek, but four Latin and ten bilingual Greek-Latin texts.
The ostraca document camel transport of water to Berenike under the supervision of
the Roman army. More than anything, they give us the identities of cameldrivers and
their caravan leaders, as well as names of military units, especially companies, and
individual infantry and cavalrymen. What they do not offer, unfortunately, are
specifics about the cisterns and wells from which the water came, the distances
traveled, and the date and circumstances of delivery –whether, for instance, the
archive reflects routine operations or an extraordinary event.
24 For the most part, the water receipts contain a standard set of elements, the ordering
of which can vary: we get the name of the dekanos to whose dekania the cameldriver
belonged; the name and patronymic of the cameldriver; the military unit receiving the
delivery; the name of the soldier who signed off on the transport; the amount of water
delivered, which is measured in Greek keramia (sometimes ptolemaica keramia) and Latin
amphorae. O.Berenike 3.351 (http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;3;351) is a
representative example. The cameldriver’s name is Peteminis son of Herakles, a
member of the dekania led by Pakoibis son of Kleitos. The recipient of the shipment of
15 keramia is Ableros, a cavalryman in the turma of the decurion Aprianos, from the
regiment of the ala Apriana. (Fig. 6)
Fig. 6
604
O.Berenike 3.351.
25 In total, the water archive yields names of 24 dekanoi and dozens of cameldrivers,
including a woman, Tapiomis (see introduction to O.Berenike 3). Most of the soldiers and
squadron leaders named are not associated with a particular regiment, but we know of
the presence of three auxiliary units at the harbor, the 2nd and 3rd Ituraean cohorts and
the ala Apriana (for more on the military in the water archive, see the intro. to the
volume). The second Ituraean cohort was stationed in Egypt over a fairly long period,
from as early as AD 39 down to the time of the compilation of the Notitia Dignitatum at
the end of the fourth or beginning of the fifth century, in which the cohort is said to be
based at Aiy (also known as Alyi), in the Heracleopolite nome (Not.Dig. 28; Worp 1991,
p. 295; Verreth 2013, p. 52).
26 The third Ituraean cohort is less well attested. Although it is mentioned in a diploma
from Egypt dated to AD 83 (CIL XVI 29; June 9 = http://inscriptions.packhum.org/text/
219886?&bookid=375&location=9), it does not figure in the Notitia Dignitatum. Its earliest
mention seems to be in an agreement or receipt from the 3rd quarter of the first
century (O.Berenike 3.264 = http://papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;3;264), which involves
troops from both Ituraean cohorts. Most other documents that attest it date to the
second century, a few to the third. On the whole, the evidence shows the cohort in
Egypt for at least the first two and half centuries of this era.
27 The third regiment found in Berenike, the ala Apriana, is a cavalry unit said to have
been stationed at Hipponos in middle Egypt (Notitia Dignitatum 28). It appears in
documents from elsewhere in the Eastern Desert and from Coptos, but the water
archive connects it for the first time with Berenike. Its known presence in Egypt spans
ca. AD 40 (P.Lips. 2.133.4f. = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/p.lips;2;133) to ca. 270
(SPP 20.71.2 = http://www.papyri.info/ddbdp/stud.pal;20;71).
605
28 All told, the archive names around 15 squadron commanders, or decurions, and nearly
25 cavalrymen, plus 19 centuries and about 50 soldiers (Fig. 7). Many of the centuries
presumably belonged to other cohorts besides the two Ituraean, even legionary ones,
but we do not get the names of these regiments. A few of the soldiers and commanding
officers also appear in texts from Didymoi, illustrating mobility among the troops of
the Eastern Desert.
Fig. 7
List of Regiments, Companies and Soldiers.

29 Although we cannot know exactly what the soldiers were up to, their remit probably
included oversight of building programs, such as fortlets and wells and cisterns, in
addition to providing security. The drilling of a well and the construction of a cistern
and fort at Sikait in the year 76/77 were commemorated with a Latin inscription
(O.Berenike 2.120 = http://edh-www.adw.uni-heidelberg.de/edh/inschrift/HD047182),
and copies of similar commemorative texts have been found at water stations in
Didymoi and Aphrodites (Bagnall, Cuvigny, Bülow-Jacobsen 2001). Soldiers oversaw
hydrological projects, as we know from ILS 2483 ( http://inscriptions.packhum.org/
text/219876?&bookid=375&location=9), a list of the units involved in the construction
of cisterns at Berenike, Compasi, Apollonos Hydreuma, and Myos Hormos (Cuvigny
2003, pp. 267–273). We could imagine that the water archive was related to such
building activities in the area; coincidentally, the archive is broadly contemporaneous
with the Sikait dedication.
30 Whether construction of the fortlet and cistern at Sikait (and elsewhere) was
undertaken in order to counter increased security threats in the desert is impossible to
say (see Bagnall, Bülow-Jacobsen, Cuvigny 2001, p. 331). There is no evidence for
606
disturbances in first century texts from Berenike. In fact, the best witness we have to
encounters with area barbarians is a papyrus, found in the Roman dump, that records
the distribution of provisions to several barbarians, who have names such as
Aeiamibtok and Chotiate (or Choniate), and to their unnamed wives (O.Berenike 3.266 =
http://papyri.info/ddbdp/o.berenike;3;266). The document suggests, if anything,
relative harmony, although it is admittedly difficult to draw conclusions from it, given
its fragmentary state.
31 This is about as far as our cameldrivers will take us. In concluding, I wish to look at one
more aspect of the written evidence that has not been addressed thus far: signs of
literary interest at Berenike. In 2012 the Berenike team made the exciting discovery in
the early Roman dump of a fragment of Greek poetry (Ast, Lougovaya 2015). The
papyrus is the most extensive example of a literary text to be found at the site thus far;
the other bits of literature that have turned up have been too poorly preserved to
reveal their contents.
32 The two-columned fragment concerns an attendant of the Phrygian goddess Cybele,
also known as magna mater (Fig. 8). The attendant may be Attis or one of the cult
priests, who were called galli. He (or she) is depicted in the papyrus in a frenzied state,
tossing the hair around and clashing cymbals to the accompaniment of the Phrygian
flute. The genre of the poem is unclear. It is reminiscent of a comedy of Menander
entitled the Theophoroumene, or “the girl possessed by a god,” but could also come from
tragedy, or even a collection of songs or lyric poems. If the verses are from a collection
of songs, they might have been of an occasional type, such as those performed at a local
festival or for a song competition. Whatever its genre, the poem gives some flavor of
cultural interests in the Eastern Desert, suggesting that it was not all commerce and no
rest. Who knows, perhaps even our cameldrivers took an occasional break from
transporting goods to enjoy some of the entertainment.
Fig. 8
Cybele Papyrus.
607
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Papyrological editions are cited in accordance with The Checklist of Editions of Greek,
Latin, Demotic, and Coptic Papyri, Ostraca, and Tablets (http://papyri.info/docs/checklist).
Ast R., Bagnall R.S. 2015. “The Receivers of Berenike. New Inscriptions from the 2015
Season”,. Chiron, 45, pp. 171-185.
Ast R., Lougovaya J. 2015. “Cybele on the Red Sea: New Verses from Berenike”. GRBS, 55,
pp. 654-678.
Bagnall R.S., Bülow-Jacobsen A., Cuvigny H. 2001. “Security and water on the Eastern
Vespasian”. JRA, 14, pp. 325-333.
Bingen J. 1984. “Épigraphie grecque et latine : d’Antinoé à Edfou”. ChE, 59, 1984,
pp. 359-370.
Cuvigny H. 1998. “Bouchons cachetés des fouilles d’Adolphe Reinach à Coptos”. Bulletin
des Musées et Monuments lyonnais, 4, pp. 2-7.
Cuvigny H. 2003. “Les documents écrits de la route de Myos Hormos à l’époque gréco-
romaine”. In La route de Myos Hormos. Praesidia du désert de Bérénice II (Fouilles de l’IFAO
48), H Cuvigny (ed.). Institut français d’archéologie orientale, Le Caire, pp. 265-294.
Denecker E., Vandorpe K. 2007. “Sealed amphora stoppers and tradesmen in Greco-
Roman Egypt: archaeological, papyrological and evidence”. BABesch, 82, pp. 115-128.
Farid A. 1988. “Die Denkmäler des Parthenios, des Verwalters der Isis von Koptos”.
MDAIK, 44, pp. 13-65.
Farid A. 1995. Fünf demotische Stelen aus Berlin, Chicago, Durham, London und Oxford mit
zwei demotischen Türinschriften aus Paris und einer Bibliographie der demotischen Inschriften,
Berlin, Achet Verlag.
Hölbl G. 2005. Altägypten im Römischen Reich. III, Heiligtümer und religiöses Leben in den
Ägyptischen Wüsten und Oasen, Mainz, Philipp von Zabern.
I.Pan: Bernand A. 1977. Pan du désert, Leiden, E.J. Brill.
I.Portes: Bernand A. 1984. Les Portes du désert. Recueil des inscriptions grecques
d’Antinooupolis, Tentyris, Koptos, Apollonopolis Parva et Apollonopolis Magna. Paris, Centre
National de la Recherche Scientifique.
Meredith D. 1957. “Berenice Troglodytica”. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 43, pp. 56-70.
O.Berenike 1: Bagnall R.S., Helms C. and Verhoogt A.M.F.W. 2000. Documents from Berenike.
vol. I, Greek Ostraka from the 1996-1998 Seasons, Bruxelles, Association Égyptologique Reine
Élisabeth.
O.Berenike 2: Bagnall R.S., Helms C. and Verhoogt A.M.F.W. 2005. Documents from Berenike.
Vol. II, Texts from the 1999-2001 Seasons, Bruxelles, Association Égyptologique Reine
Élisabeth.
O.Berenike 3: Ast R. and Bagnall R.S. 2016. Documents from Berenike. vol. III, Greek and Latin
Texts from the 2009-2013 Seasons, Bruxelles, Association Égyptologique Reine Élisabeth.
O.Did.: H. Cuvigny (ed.). 212. Didymoi. Une garnison romaine dans le désert Oriental d'Égypte,
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Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology. I-III (Pap. Flor. 42), Firenze, Edizioni Gonnelli.
Ruffing K. 1993. “Das Nikanor-Archiv und der römische Süd- und Osthandel”. MBAH, 12,
pp. 1-26.
Sidebotham S.E. 2012. Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route, Berkeley, University
Sidebotham S.E., Zitterkopf R.E., Helms C. 2000. “Survey of the Via Hadriana: The 1998
Season”. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt, 37, pp; 115-126.
Verreth H. 2013. A survey of toponyms in Egypt in the Graeco-Roman period (version 2.0),
(Trismegistos Online Publications II) [http://www.trismegistos.org/top.php], Leuven.
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AUTHOR
Rodney Ast
Senior Research and Teaching Associate, Institute for Papyrology, University of
Heidelberg
609
Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir: Gold Mining in

Byzantine Times in the Eastern
Desert
Carol Meyer
1 The purpose of this paper is to present a summary of the results of many years of
archaeological research at the site of Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir in the central Eastern Desert
of Egypt. It will give a brief overview of the field seasons, some aspects of life in the
ancient settlement at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, and a review of the ancient ore extraction
and processing techniques.
2 In brief, the Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir Project of the Oriental Institute of the University of
Chicago carried out four seasons of survey and one of excavation, plus one study season
in 2001 in Quft. The survey project began mapping the southeast end of the site in 1992
and worked its way northwest in 1993 and 1996 and made a big push to complete the
map of what we now call the Main Settlement in 1997. It is about half a kilometer from
one end of the site to the other (Fig. 1). In 1999 we had our only chance to excavate, and
only excavated three of 237 buildings, a small sample indeed (Fig. 1, 2). In addition to
mapping the Main Settlement (blue on Fig. 3), we carried out walking surveys of the
surrounding areas and located fourteen outlying clusters of ruins (red on Fig. 3) of the
same 5th – 6th century Byzantine date.1
Fig. 1
610
Bi'r Umm Fawâkhir Main Settlement.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 2
Overview of central section of Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir (red dots mark

Buildings 93, 177, and 181 clockwise from center left).
© C. Meyer
Fig. 3
611
Main Settlement and Vicinity.

© C. Meyer
3 In the fifth and sixth centuries the Byzantine Empire had a staggering need for gold to
pay for armies, navies, diplomatic efforts, a vast building program, and the glittering
court at Constantinople. Unfortunately, by that time many of the old gold sources had
been worked out or lost to enemies, so when the call went out to get gold, new sources
and difficult recovery techniques sometimes had to be utilized. It is pretty clear that
the mines at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir were a government operation. No one else had the
capital resources in terms of grain and supplies or the authority to summon up,
organize, and supply so large a labor force in a remote desert.
4 When the miners set out from the Nile, presumably from Coptos (modern Quft), they
were heading into deep desert, but not into the unknown. The ancient route through
Wâdi Hammâmât towards the Red Sea (Fig. 4) was still marked by the mostly
abandoned but still impressive Roman period praesidia, and one or two of them were
reoccupied during the Byzantine period.2 The miners were also heading towards a
known gold-mining zone. The mines in the Wâdi el-Sid, a few kilometers south of Bi’r
Umm Fawâkhir (Fig. 3), had been worked for gold since at least the New Kingdom
period, as attested by the Turin Gold-mining Papyrus and some New Kingdom sherds,
huts, and trenches. The Byzantine period miners, however, worked the zone to the
north, around the wells of Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, possibly because the Wâdi al-Sid mines
had been exhausted by the technology known at that time. It is important to note that
the ores in the Wâdi el-Sid are much more productive than those at Bi’r Umm
Fawâkhir;3 only a very pressing need for gold could make the latter worthwhile.
Fig. 4
612
Eastern Desert, Byzantine period sites marked in red.

© C. Meyer
5 We will not go into the geology of Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, fascinating as it is, except to say
that the gold occurs in quartz veins injected in granite (Fig. 5). Specifically, the pinkish
Fawâkhir granite is a Precambrian stock (ca. 590 ma) injected into even older, dark
ultramafic rocks. At the contact zone between the granite and the ultramafic rocks, the
quartz veins are enriched with many metallic minerals, some of which carry gold. The
other critical resource at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir is the wells, all-important in a hyper-arid
desert, and the water is abundant and sweet, not brackish like so many of the other
desert wells.
Fig. 5
Geology of Bi'r Umm Fawâkhir vicinity.

© M. Badr el-Din Omar
6 When the miners reached Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, they found earlier remains. The little
Ptolemy III temple to Min still existed (Fig. 6); it was not destroyed until the early
613
20th century. The ancient Roman road, overlooked by one of the inter-visible watch
towers on the Coptos to Myos Hormos route, ran east from the wells, past Outliers 2
and 3 (Fig. 3). A few Roman period remains have been reported, such as inscriptions in
a cave behind the modern settlement, a few dozen ostraka, and bits and pieces
recovered by modern miners. Several small granite quarries may be dated to the
Roman period by the potsherds around them, especially amphoras, by quarry slots that
look like those at Mons Claudianus, and by the fact that several partly cut blocks were
built into Byzantine period houses (Fig. 7). If, however, there was Roman period
praesidum at the Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir wells 4 like those elsewhere along the Coptos to
Myos Hormos road, then it is the most thoroughly destroyed one of all. If it existed near
the wells, then it would have been subject to rare but heavy flash floods (Fig. 8), and
anything that survived into the early 20th century was ground up by modern ore-
crushing machines.
Fig. 6
Column segment from Min temple of Ptolemy III Evergetes.

© C. Meyer, T.G. Wilfong
Fig. 7a
614
Outlier 2 at center left; Quarry 1 at foot of rock outcrop behind; Roman

road in wâdi bed from lower right to upper left.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 7b
Blocks with quarrying slots in Quarry 1.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 7c
Partly quarried block built into Building 126 in Main Settlement.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 8
615
Overview of Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir. Outlier 2, Quarry 1, and Roman road on

left; Main Settlement in wâdi on right; well houses at lower left; washed
out area in foreground.
© C. Meyer
7 Shortly after arrival at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir the ancient miners set about constructing
shelter. The basic unit is a two or three room house (Fig. 9) of dry stone masonry with
neatly made doors and built-in features such as wall niches and benches, but no cut
stone or plastering. Roofs were probably palm logs, branches, twigs, and/or mats held
down by stones. This informal architecture could be expanded as needed by adding
house units or enclosing the space between two houses until a larger agglomerated
building of five or six houses sharing party walls was created (Fig. 10). The Fig. 11
shows part of the site with the basic two or three room houses in orange and the
agglomerated houses in blue. While there is no formal layout to the site, many of the
houses are grouped around a shared area or small plaza; their doors open on the plaza
and not onto the wâdi bottom that served as the main street. Thus these houses would
have shared activities more easily than not. We believe that the organization of the
town was based on kin groups with fathers, sons, brothers, uncles, and cousins; it is
hard to see what other organization could pertain. Were wives and mothers present?
We have no definitive evidence one way or the other, but we do know that cross-
culturally speaking women are in short supply in mining towns and the newer the town
the fewer the women.5 Prostitutes are a possibility. Certainly they are well attested in
the earlier Roman period texts,6 but by definition they are not part of a stable family
group. Scattered around the houses are a number of one-room outbuildings, shown in
green on Fig. 11. We do not know whether they were used for storage, workshops,
animal shelter, latrines, or many functions in turn, but they do not seem to have been
kitchens. Excavations on either side of Building 93 revealed two open air kitchens there
(Fig. 12).
Fig. 9
616
Outlier 2 house.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 10
Building 50, agglomerated house with 20 rooms.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 11
617
Orange= single houses; blue= agglomerated houses; gray= “plazas”;

green= one-room outbuildings.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 12
Building 93. A= Dump 1 kitchen area, B= Dump 2 kitchen area.

© C. Meyer
618
8 Thus. In one respect we have a remarkably complete town. It can be mapped house by
house without excavation. Around the Main Settlement we can see features such as
outlying clusters of ruins, paths, ancient roads, mines, and wells (Fig. 3). Our population
estimate for the Main Settlement is a little over 1,000 souls. This number surely
fluctuated over time, but occasionally may have been even greater; Outliers 1, 2, and 6
look residential and not like clusters of huts serving outlying mines. On the other hand,
what we do not have is also important. There are no walls or fortifications to keep
anyone in or out, only some guard posts high on ridges over the site (Fig. 13). There are
no large administrative buildings, warehouses, or animal shelters.7 There is no sign of a
church, though the little Ptolemy III Min temple (Fig. 6) still existed. Perhaps such
central buildings existed near the wells, but have long been destroyed by flash floods
and modern mining.
Fig. 13a
Guardpost (on top of ridge).

© C. Meyer
Fig. 13b
619
View from guardpost towards modern settlement, wells, and road to

Wâdi Hammâmât.
© C. Meyer
9 Diodorus Siculus of the 1st century B.C., citing Agatharcides of the 2nd century B.C., calls
the ancient Egyptian gold miners prisoners of war, criminals, or those unlucky enough
to anger the king, and he says that they were worked to death in greatest misery.8 On
the other hand, we have at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir no evidence at all for forced labor.
There are no walls to keep anyone in or out. The sprawling Main Settlement and
outliers have no sign of regimentation. The silos in Outlier 2 (Fig. 14) look more like
storage for grain paid out as salary than rations doled out to captives. Our excavations
were very limited, but they still yielded finds such as beads, raw emeralds (green beryl),
an agate gem stone, a Bes amulet, a bronze weight, half a copper-gold alloy bracelet,
and a few tiny coins (Fig. 14).
Fig. 14a
Silo in Outlier 2.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 14b
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a. Bes amulet; b. Agate gemstone; c. Bronze weight; d. Raw emeralds

(green beryl); e. Copper-gold alloy bracelet.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 14c
Bronze coins.
© C. Meyer
10 Oddly enough, we do not know what religion the miners acknowledged. By the
5th century the Byzantine Empire was officially Christian, but in Egypt it seems to have
been a village-by-village choice.9 On the one hand the little Min temple still existed
(Fig. 6) and someone owned a Bes amulet. On the other hand, there are many fancy
plates stamped with Christian crosses and other symbols (Fig. 15), and the wine
amphoras are dated with XP dates (Fig. 16), though this pertains more to the place
where they were filled than where the wine was consumed. The situation at the port of
Berenike, by far the most important site in the Eastern Desert in the Byzantine period,
is at least as complicated.10 Religion matters. It determined the miners’ work week and
festival cycle, whether Isis or Christ. Cross-culturally speaking, miners are not very
pious or given to formal religion, but on the other hand they are engaged in a
dangerous profession. The only protection was a miner’s own skill, and divine
intervention.
Fig. 15
621
Sherds with stamped or painted Christian symbols.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 16
Late Roman 1 Amphoras with dipinti.

© C. Meyer
11 While there is no evidence that the miners were forced labor, there is a great deal of
evidence that they were rather well provisioned. Pottery occurs in such abundance that
the name of the site, Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, translates as “Well of the Mother of Pottery.”
Judging from all the amphoras (Fig. 16), wine was in good supply. Among the range of
pottery vessels there are many deep bowls or kraters (Fig. 17) and a variety of small
cups or bowls, some presumably used for drinking (Fig. 18). We even found an iron
622
ladle (Fig. 18), so we suggest that at least at times wine was mixed with water in
kraters, ladled into drinking cups, and drunk in a more or less civilized fashion. Meat
was in good supply as well (Fig. 19). The sheep and goat bones are no surprise, but the
amount of cattle bones is. Beef is a luxury in the desert where there is no fodder for
cattle.11 Another surprise was what we tentatively call the “cheese factory.” On the
lowest excavated surface of Dump 1 we found a wide-mouth jar, presumably for milk,
and a taller one with holes punched through the bottom, presumably for draining whey
to make cheese (Fig. 20). Cheese is a very good solution to the problem of keeping milk
in a very hot desert. On the other hand, the botanical remains were sparse, possibly
because of the small sample. The food plants recovered are unremarkable: barley,
wheat, bottle gourd, date, dom palm, grape, olive, pulses, and Nile acacia pods, the
latter two probably used for animal food.12 Wheat grains in particular were not
abundant, though this seems to be in keeping with the general supply in the Eastern
Desert.13 The silos in Outlier 2 (Fig. 14) and the dolia in the excavated kitchens (Fig. 21)
look like grain storage, but the little clay-sided hearth or oven in the Dump 1 kitchen,
filled with dung and fine dung ash, looks very small for baking bread. Perhaps there
were community baking ovens to save fuel; certainly fuel for so many hearths in the
desert must have been a constant headache for the mine administrators. We should
also consider the possibility that at times baked bread was sent into the desert, as in
the Roman period.14
Fig. 17a
Kraters.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 17b
623
Krater found in situ on lowest level of Building 93 Room C.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 18a
Small cups.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 18b
624
Iron ladle.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 18c
Iron ladle in situ.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 19
625
Distribution of animal bone at Bi'r Umm Fawâkhir.

© S. Ikram
Fig. 20a
Wide-mouth milk (?) pot.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 20b
626
“Cheese factory” with two vessels in situ on lowest level of Dump 1 beside
Building 93.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 20c
Tall jar with holes (for draining whey?).

© C. Meyer
Fig. 20d
627
Bottom of tall jar.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 21a
Dump 1 kitchen; small clay-sided oven or hearth at upper left, filled with
dung; potstand in center; stone-rimmed dolium right of center; disused
dolium at floor level near right baulk.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 21b
628
Schematic cross-section of dolium 1.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 21c
Top plan of kitchen in Dump 1; fire place on second level (“cheese

factory” on third level below, not shown).
© C. Meyer
629
12 We can now say a great deal about the gold mining operations that were the reason for
the existence of ancient Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir. The hills around the site are riddled and
trenched with ancient mines. It has to be emphasized that this is hard rock mining,
hacking quartz out of granite. Panning alluvial gold from a stream is a simple, unskilled
operation that a lone miner can carry out. He might or might not become very rich.
Hard rock mining on the other hand requires a large, organized, and well-supplied
labor force. The miners will probably be paid, possibly well paid, but they will never
strike it rich. Hard rock mining is capital intensive, and the profits, if any, go to the
investors, to Alexandria or Constantinople or Johannesburg or wherever. The quartz
veins at Fawâkhir, particularly those closest to the contact zone with the ultramafic
rocks to the west and south, are enriched with many metallic minerals (Fig. 22), some
of which carry gold in very small amounts. The important thing about this list of
glittering minerals is that they are all sulfides, which makes them much harder to
smelt than oxides.
Fig. 22
a. Quartz veinlets stained with hematite. b. Iron pyrite (Fool's gold).

© C. Meyer
13 There are two basic types of mines at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir. The simplest is just a trench
or opencast mine cut down from the surface to follow the quartz vein (Fig. 23). We
recovered only one working tool, a simple iron wedge or pick (Fig. 23), but
archaeologically excavated tools are uncommon at ancient mining and quarrying sites.
15
In other places, the mine workings cut deep into the mountainside (Fig. 24), but both
kinds of mines are marked as ancient by the scatter of sherds around them, nearby huts
constructed the same way as the Main Settlement houses, and features such as dry
stone revetment walls (Fig. 24). At Mine 4 the trench slicing up the side of the mountain
is very visible; the light colored material on either side of the mine is discarded quartz
(Fig. 25). About half way up the trench we found a pounding slab surrounded on three
sides by quartz chunks (Fig. 26), so it looks as if a workman squatted here, broke or
inspected the quartz mined in shade or darkness, and picked out the pieces worth the
630
considerable effort of further reduction. The discards were simply tossed down the
slope. The next stage in ore reduction was to pound the chunks down to the size of a
pea or a vetch, according to Diodorus Siculus. The chunk of quartz would be placed on a
flattish lower stone and pounded down and ground around with a two-handed pounder
or dimple stone (Fig. 27). When the depression or dimple gets too deep to crush the
rock small enough, it is simply thrown away for a new one. Discarded dimple stones are
so common that they were built into walls or steps up a slope.16 The next stage was to
dump the crushed ore into a heavy grinding mill or quern (Fig. 28). The upper, lighter
rotary stone was turned by means of a wooden handle stuck in a hole. Diodorus says
that the fine grinding was done by women working in pairs, which is possible, but as
yet unproven. The next step was washing the finely ground ore, and this was one of the
most skilled jobs at the mine, though we do not know which of several possible washing
techniques was used. In 1997 Bryan Earl, a retired mining engineer from Cornwall,
carried out a replication experiment for the project. He demonstrated that it is
necessary to grind the Fawâkhir ore to face powder (Fig. 29) to win any gold at all. He
used a Cornish vanning shovel (Fig. 29) to wash the ore and did not get visible gold, just
a heavy, dark, sparkly, concentrated residue or “head.” We think this is as far as ore
processing went at ancient Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir. We looked for slags but found none,
and slags are generally easy to spot. Smelting this kind of ore is extremely fuel
intensive, and fuel is always at a premium in the desert. Finally, sending sacks of dark,
heavy concentrate to the Valley for final processing would have reduced the risk of
theft at the site and while crossing the desert.
Fig. 23a
Opencast mine.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 23b
631
Iron pick or wedge.

© C. Meyer
Fig.24a
Ancient hut in center.

© C. Meyer
Fig.24b
632
Deep mine with dry stone masonry revetment wall.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 25
Mine 4 with light-colored, discarded quartz on either side of mine.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 26
633
Crushing stone found beside Mine 4, used for preliminary cracking and
sorting of quartz ore.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 27a-b
A. Upper, hand-held dimpled crushing stone. B. Dimple stones reused as

steps beside Building 117.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 27c
634
Lower crushing stones.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 28a
Lower part of rotary grinding stone (quern) and three dimpled crushing
stones.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 28b
635
Halves of two upper rotary grinding stones, one with hole for handle.
© C. Meyer
Fig. 29a
Grinding ore on bucking plate.

© C. Meyer
Fig. 29b
636
Washing powdered ore with Cornish vanning shovel.

© C. Meyer
Graphic 1
Method of obtaining gold.
637
14 The chart shows all the steps needed to win gold from this kind of ore. Steps 1 and 2,
crushing, grinding, and washing the ore we have seen. Steps 3 and 4, roasting the
concentrate to drive off the sulfur dioxide and arsenic and then re-crushing the
material are not strictly necessary, but make Step 5 easier. For this step the
concentrate must be mixed with some form of lead if it does not contain any, as in fact
the Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir ores do.17 The concentrated ore and extra lead, if needed, are
then heated to red hot temperature, enough to melt and pour off the slag and leave a
cake of lead. The lead cake is then placed in a porous vessel (a “cupel”) or on a bed of
some porous material such as sand or brick dust. This in turn is heated in air until the
lead oxidizes and runs into the porous bed as litharge, leaving little beads of gold,
electrum, or silver. If refined gold is desired, as for coinage, then Step 7 may be carried
out. The gold or electrum beads are placed in a jar with salt and a flux such as silica and
heated for five days until it stops smoking. The silver oxides are taken up by the walls
of the container and refined gold is left. If the objective is to recover the silver as well,
the container may be crushed and the smelting with lead and cupellation steps may be
repeated to win the silver. In short, this kind of gold smelting is very time-consuming,
fuel-intensive, poisonous, and technically complex, especially for a low-grade ore such
as that from Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir. Only the urgent need of the Byzantine empire for gold
could justify such an expense.
15 How long were the mines at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir worked? We do not know exactly, but
the recent excavations found evidence in at least two trenches (Fig. 21 for one example)
for three episodes of occupation,18 so it seems that the site was occupied and then
abandoned or nearly so several times over the course of roughly 150 to 170 years. When
was the site finally abandoned? Again, we do not know exactly, but it was probably
around the end of the 6th century. By this time the Byzantine empire was pressed by
enemies on many fronts, so the manpower and resources to support a remote mine
were even more urgently needed elsewhere. Also, after 150 to 170 years of intensive if
intermittent exploitation, the ores at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir were probably mined out
with the ancient mining techniques available at that time. The relatively easy gold was
gone. Finally, about this time the first of a series of plagues19 hit Egypt. Even if they did
not penetrate to the desert, they would have further drained the resources of the
empire. So, after the last miners left we have virtually no record of anything at Bi’r
Umm Fawâkhir until the geologists started their explorations in the late 19th century,
followed by the miners in the first half of the 20th century, and finally by the
archaeologists.
16 I would like to thank the organizers of the very timely conference on the Eastern Desert
of Egypt, Dr. Steven E. Sidebotham and Dr. Jean-Pierre Brun. Thanks for many levels of
support over the years are due to the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago,
Chicago House in Luxor, the National Geographic Society, the National Endowment for
the Humanities, private donors, ARCE Cairo, the Egyptian Geological Survey and Mining
Authority (EGSMA), and the Supreme Council of Antiquities (now the Ministry of State
for Antiquities) and its inspectors. Nor should the hardworking field teams go
unnamed: Henry Cowherd, Dr. Lisa Heidorn, Mohamed Badr el-Din Omar, Leslie Boose,
Dr. Steven Cole, Bryan Earl, Rabia Hamdan, Dr. Salima Ikram, Richard Jaeschke, Clare
Leader, Dr. Alexandra O’Brien, Dr. Clemens Reichel, Thomas Roby, ra’is Seif Shared
Mahmud, Dr. Wendy Smith, and Dr. Terry Wilfong.
638
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bernand A. 1984. Les Portes du désert. Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche

Scientifique, Paris.
Brun J.-P. 2003a. “Chronologie de l’équipement de la route à l’époque gréco-romaine”.
In La route de Myos Hormos. H. Cuvigny (ed.), Fouilles de l’Institut français d’archéologie
orientale 48, Vol. 1, Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, pp. 187-205.
Brun J.-P. 2003b. “La station de Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir (Persou II)”. In La route de Myos
Hormos. H. Cuvigny (ed.), Fouilles de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale 48, Vol. 1,
Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, pp. 98-99.
Bülow-Jacobsen A. 2003. “The traffic on the road and the provisioning of the stations”.
In La route de Myos Hormos. H. Cuvigny (ed.), Fouilles de l’Institut français d’archéologie
orientale 48, Vol. 2, Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, pp. 399-426.
Burstein S.M. (tran.). 1989. Agatharcides of Cnidus, London. The Hakluyt Society.
Cuvigny H. (ed.) 2003. La route de Myos Hormos, Fouilles de l’Institut français
d’archéologie orientale 48, Vols. 1 and 2, Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale.
Frankfurter D. 1998. Religion in Roman Egypt: Assimilation and Resistance, Princeton:
Princeton University Press.
Guéraud O. 1942. “Ostraca Grecs et Latins de l’Wâdi Fawâkhir”. Bulletin de l’Institut
français d’archéologie orientale 41, Cairo: Imprimerie de l’Institut français d’archéologie
orientale, pp. 141-196.
Ikram S. 2014. “Zooarchaeological Remains”. In Bir Umm Fawakhir. C. Meyer (ed.), Vol. 3:
Excavations 1999-2001. Oriental Institute Publications 141, Chicago: The Oriental Institute
of the University of Chicago, pp. 91-96.
Lawrence S. 1998. “Gender and Community Structure on Australian Colonial
Goldfields”. In Social Approaches to an Industrial Past. A.C. Knapp, V.C. Piggott, and
E.W. Herbert (eds.), New York: Routledge, pp. 39-58.
Meyer C. 1995. “Gold, Granite, and Water: The Bir Umm Fawakhir Survey Project 1992”,
Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research 52, pp. 37-92.
Meyer C. 2014. Bir Umm Fawakhir Vol. 3: Excavations 1999-2001. Oriental Institute
Publications 141, Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.
Meyer C., Heidorn L.A., Kaegi W.E. and Wilfong T. 2000. Bir Umm Fawakhir Survey Project
1993: A Byzantine Gold Mining Town in Egypt. Oriental Institute Communications 28,
Chicago: Oriental Institute.
Meyer C., Heidorn L.A., O’Brien A.A. and Reichel C. 2011. Bir Umm Fawakhir Vol. 2: Report
on the 1996-1997 Survey Seasons. Oriental Institute Communications 30, Chicago: The
Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.
Meyer C., Earl B., Omar M. and Smither R.K. 2005. “Ancient Gold Extraction at Bir Umm
Fawakhir”. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 40, pp. 13-53.
Oldfather C.H. (tran.) 2000. Diodorus of Sicily, Cambridge: Harvard University Press
(reprint of 1935 edition).
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Peacock D.P.S. 1997. “The Quarries”. In Survey and Excavation at Mons Claudianus.
D.P.S. Peacock and V.A. Maxfield (ed.), Vol. I, Fouilles de l’Institut français d’archéologie
orientale 37, Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale, pp. 175-255.
Sidebotham S.E. 2011. Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route, Berkeley: University
Smith W. 2014. “The Floral Remains”. In Bir Umm Fawakhir Vol. 3: Excavations 1999-2001.
C. Meyer (ed.), Oriental Institute Publications 141, Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the
University of Chicago, pp. 97-110.
Van der Veen M., Bouchaud C., Cappers R. et Newton C. 2018. “Roman Life in the
Eastern Desert of Egypt: Food, Imperial Power and Geopolitic”. In The Eastern Desert of
Vasiliev A.A. 1961. History of the Byzantine Empire, Madison: University of Wisconsin
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ENDNOTES
1. The results of all six seasons are published in Meyer 1995; Meyer, Heidorn, Kaegi and Wilfong
2000; Meyer, Heidorn, O’Brien and Reichel 2011; Meyer 2014.
2. Krokodilô (Wâdi Mweh) was reused in the 5th and 6th centuries (Brun 2003a, p. 204), and it is
hard to believe that Phoenicon (modern Laqeita) with its abundant wells was ignored.
3. Modern assays range from 4+ to 27.9 grams per ton of ore at the Wâdi el-Sid versus 1.73 to
9.1 grams per ton at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir (Meyer, Earl, Omar and Smither 2005, pp. 30-31). It is
virtually impossible to know what the ancient yields may have been.
4. The name “Persou” known from Roman period ostraka seems to have referred to a station in
the Wâdi Hammâmât, or at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir, or both at different times (Brun 2003b,
pp. 98-99). Whether the name was still used in the Byzantine period is unknown.
5. See for example the study of Dolly’s Creek, Australia (Lawrence 1998, pp. 46-48).
6. Prostitutes are well attested in the Roman period. The Coptos Tariff of A.D. 90 lists a very high
fee for taking prostitutes into the desert (Bernand 1984, pp. 200-201), and prostitutes are
documented at Krokodilô, Persou, and Maximianon (Cuvigny 2003, pp. 383-389).
7. The puzzling Complex 26 in Outlier 6 (Fig. 3) is securely enclosed by a deep bay and thick
walls, but it is anything but centrally located.
8. See Burstein 1989, pp. 58-68, for Agatharcides’ description of the mines and miners and
Oldfather 2000, pp. 114-123, for Diodorus Siculus’.
9. For paganism in Byzantine period Egypt, see Frankfurter 1998.
10. See Sidebotham 2011, pp. 264-268, 272-275, for the Christian ecclesiastical complex, the
Shrine of the Palmyrenes, the Northern Shrine (perhaps the locus of a mystery cult), and an Isis
temple; the continued use of the great so-called Serapis Temple is uncertain.
11. Ikram 2014, pp. 91-96.
12. Smith 2014, pp. 97-100.
13. For the scarcity of wheat grains, see Van der Veen 2018.
14. Roman period ostraka record many requests for bread from stations on the Wâdi Hammâmât
road (cf. Guéraud 1942, pp. 153-156; Bülow-Jacobsen 2003, pp. 420, 423; Cuvigny 2003, pp. 275,
409, 417).
640
15. The major granodiorite quarries at Mons Claudianus yielded very few metal tools (Peacock
1997, p. 190, Fig. 6.9).
16. Crushing and grinding stones are the second most common artifact at Bi’r Umm Fawâkhir
after potsherds. For a fuller discussion of the kinds of crushing and grinding stones at the site,
see Meyer 2011, p. 153, plates 94-100.
17. Two tiny samples were tested at the Advanced Photon Source at Argonne National
Laboratory and found to contain as much lead as gold (Meyer, Earl, Omar and Smither 2005,
pp. 31-35).
18. Meyer 2014 (Building 93 Room C, Dump 1, and Building 171 Room A; pp. 15-17, 19-24, 27-29;
plates 24, 28, 30).
19. The plague of 542 started near Pelusium (Vasiliev 1952, p. 162).
AUTHOR
Carol Meyer
Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago
641
Documentary and Literary News on

Clysma1
Jean Gascou
I- P.Oxy. XVI 1905 (Clysma during the 4th century AD)

1 The starting point of this study is the tax schedule P.Oxy. XVI 1905 (Fig. 1). The
monetary data in this document allows us to date it to 356/57 or 371/72,2 although
there are reasons to favour the later date.3 Taxes are apportioned according to groups
of arourai (a unit of area of about 1/5 ha).
Fig. 1
642
P.Oxy. XVI 1905 ; Courtesy of the Egypt Exploration Society and Imaging
Papyri Project, Oxford.
2 The photography is accompanied by the Greek text in which I have kept the special
spellings. I have incorporated emendations, done by myself (JG) or other specialists
(BL), which I explain in the notes. It is followed by a translation.
Mερισμ(ῶν) ἀρουρ(ῶν) ιε ἰνδικ(τίονος)
οὕτως
Mερισμ(ῶν) ἀρουρ(ῶν) ιε ἰνδικ(τίονος)
κα̣ὶ τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) ροε στιχ(άριον) α καὶ
5 τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) Αϡκε πάλλ(ιον) α καὶ
τῆς χλαμ(ύδος) α στιχ(άριον) λινοῦν Ľγ’ ιβ´
χρυσ[ο]ῦ βουρδόνων τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) μϛd γρ(άμμα) α
τ̣ι̣ρ̣ώ̣νων τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) κε† χρ(υσοῦ) γρ(άμμα) α
[ναύ]λ̣ου θαλαττίων ὁς τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) σμγ νό(μισμα) α
10 [π]ρ̣[ι]μ̣ι̣πίλου τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) Αχξ νόμ(ισμα) α
Ἀμμωνιακῆς τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) Δρ γρ(άμμα) α
643
[ναύ]λου Κλήμ(εντος) τῇ (ἀρούρῃ) [α] (δηνάρια) Ζφ
[ὀρνέω]ν̣ καὶ ὀ ῶ
ͅ ν τῇ (ἀρούρῃ) α (δηνάρια) Ε
[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣]πορείας [τ]ῶν (ἀρουρῶν) ιη χρ(υσοῦ) γρ(άμμα) α
15 ὄνων] Μαξιμιανοπόλεως τῶν
[ vac. ? ] (ἀρου.) Βϡ ὄνος α ῥαβδούχ(ου) Ľ
[βοῶν] καὶ ὄνων Ἀλεξανδρίας τῶν
[(ἀρουρῶν) ̣]δ ὄνος ἐκ νομ(ισμάτων) γ καὶ τῶν
[(ἀρουρῶν)] μ̣[ο(ιριάδος)] α Ϛ βο̣ῦ̣ν α ἐκ νομ(ισμάτων) β
20 [ἀχύρ]ου τῇ [(ἀρούρῃ)] α λί(τραι) ζ ɰ
[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] ης λο[υσω]ρίου ἡγεμόνος τῇ (ἀρούρῃ) α (δηναρίων) μο(ιριὰς) α
[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] ̣ιας κα̣ὶ̣ [στ]ηπτη̣ρίας τῇ (ἀρούρῃ) α (δηναρίων) μο(ιριὰς) α
[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] κωμητ̣ι̣κῇ κτήσι τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) ριγ
[ vac. ] χρυσοῦ νόμ(ισμα) α
25 [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] τῶν (ἀρουρῶν) ριϛ κ̣ρ̣(ιθ- ) ἀ̣ρτ̣[άβῃ α ( ?)]
[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣]τ̣ικης κ̣[
Apportionment by arourai for the 15th indiction
as follows4
uniforms: for 234 arourai, 1 chlamys
and for 175 arourai, 1 tunic and
5 and, for 1925 arourai, 1 coat and
by chlamys 1/2 1/3 1/12 linen tunic5
Gold for the mules: for 46 1/4 arourai, 1 gram (of gold)
Recruits: for 20 3/4 arourai, 1 gram of gold
Freight (boats) by sea:6 for 243 arourai, 1 solidus
10 Primipilon:7 for 1660 arourai, 1 solidus
Ammoniake:8 for 4100 arourai, 1 gram of gold
Freight of Clemens: for one aroura, 7500 denarii
644
Chickens9 and eggs: for one aroura, 5000 denarii
Expedition of (...): for 18 arourai, 1 gram of gold
15 Donkeys of Maximianopolis: for
2900 arourai, 1 donkey and 1/2 chief of the donkey drivers
Oxen and donkeys from Alexandria:10 for
40000 (?) arourai,11 at a rate of 3 solidi per donkey and for
16 000 arourai, at a rate of 2 solidi per oxen
20 Straw (?):12 for one aroura, 7 2/3 pounds
Expenses ( ?) for the yacht of the praeses (?):13 for one aroura 10,000 denarii
Wool (?)14 and alum: for one aroura 10 000 denarii
(Tax on?) The village property: for 113 arourai,
1 solidus
25 (Fodder?) For 116 arourai (...) artabe (s?) of barley15
(...........)
3 My main point concerns l. 12, marked in bold. It was read by the editors [ναύ]λου
Κλήμ(εντος): this is either a small tax of 7500 denarii per aroura to pay the cost of
freight, or the freight itself (these are the meanings of the Greek word ναῦλον) of a
certain Clemens (Κλήμης). The reading [ναύ]λου is certain with regard to the length of
the gap and especially the parallel formulation of l. 9, where the reference to sea-going
vessels (θαλαττίων, sc. πλοίων), and above all other texts relating to this tax, make this
reading [ναύ]λ ο̣ υ obvious. However, the reading Κλήμ(εντος) is wrong. The real
reading is Κλύσμ(ατος), “of Clysma” (Fig. 2).
Fig. 2
P.Oxy. XVI 1905, ligne 12.

4 This is about a tax, occasional or permanent, for the freight of Clysma. This is a new
documentary evidence for Clysma in full 4th century. If it were not for the association
with ναῦλον, this would not be so remarkable, since this period is represented in the
archeology of the site and even, gathering together all the facts, better represented
than one might think. Bernard Bruyère discovered a large quantity of copper alloy
645
coins of the 4th century on this site (about 3000 coins).16 According to this archaeologist,
a hoard of 80 gold coins was found at Clysma before 1914. It disappeared before
publication, but Bruyère was able to examine and identify two of these coins as solidi of
Valentinian I and Valens, emperors whose reigns coincide with the lower date for P.Oxy.
XVI 1905.17 Jean-Pierre Brun, in his lecture course of 2014-2015 at the Collège de France,
18 attributed the baths southwest of Qulzum to the 4 e century. On the other hand, a
Greek letter on an ostracon found by Bruyère, SB VI 9549, dated mid 3e century by

Jacques Schwartz, its editor,19 can easily be attributed to the 4 th century, according to
the writing (Fig. 3).
Fig. 3
SB VI 9549.
© IFAO
5 Further more, it includes (l. 13-16) a final apotropaic formula where the author wants
the household of his correspondant to be spared by the βασκανία, envy or the evil eye
(μετὰ ὅλου σοῦ τοῦ οἴκου τοῦ ἀβασκάντου), but four of the five examples of the
expression οἶκος ἀβάσκαντος are Byzantine and three are placed in the reign of
Constantius II.20 Before Schwartz published the Greek texts of Qulzum, Octave Guéraud
had, according to Bruyère, “found that some private letters are from the Byzantine era
of the fourth and fifth centuries AD.”21
6 What is particularly worth mentioning, with this correction, is that public cargoes were
sent by water to Clysma at the expense of the taxpayers. Which waterway? It is difficult
not to think of the Trajan's channel, which, according to a course not yet fully
established, connected the fortress of Babylon of Egypt with Clysma, by a sluice that
opened at the moment of the flood. Its last truly Roman documents stop in 22122 but
reappear at the end of the 3e century. Documents spread between 297 and at least up to
646
423, attest work on the canal. The requisition of workers in 297, which affected the
whole Arsinoite nome and probably all Egypt, was extensive and fits well with the
takeover of Egypt under Diocletian and his immediate successors.23 Diocletian is
thought to be responsible for the fortifications of Babylon at the western entrance of
the waterway.24 Meanwhile, in 306/7, the military road connecting Heropolis to Clysma
was marked out.25 Around 332, which brings us closer to the time of P.Oxy. XVI 1905,
maintenance of the waterway required workers and masons or carpenters.26 The canal
was still being cleaned in 423/24, and possibly 420/421.27 Nothing, however, occured
between 332 and 423. Jean-Jacques Aubert,28 specialist in the history of Trajan's Canal,
was struck by this documentary void, which is only very slightly filled towards 383 with
a passage of Egeria's Travels.29 Philip Mayerson even believes that the waterway may
have been silted up.30 But, if my interpretation of P.Oxy. XVI 1905 is correct, it was
opened to transport in the middle of the 4th century.
7 This is not in line with contemporary research. Scholars don't reject the testimony of
Lucian, Alexander § 44, relating that a young patrician dwelling at Alexandria would
have gone up the Nile to Clysma, before embarking for India, because he could not have
used any waterway other than the canal. However, Aubert believes that its role in trade
transport would have been casual and secondary. According to Aubert, it would have
been used mainly for irrigation.31 This is a supposition considered by Mayerson, who
also mentions the fresh water supply to Clysma.32 I admit that this document deals with
public transport, probably of strategic value and for which there was no need to spare
at expenditure, rather than with private commercial activities, but it should be taken
into account in discussions for the purpose of this work.
II- SB V 7756 and the nautai of India

8 Speaking of India, now is the time to examine SB V 7756. This document is linked to the
previous one because of its date, 27 ix 359, and location (Oxyrhynchus).33 The object
itself is alike, since it starts, l. 1-12, with a tax schedule. The taxable units are peasants
heads rather than areas like P.Oxy. XVI 1905, but this double base, properties and
persons, is a feature of the taxation of Late Roman Egypt.34 The total per head is 383,
5 myriads of denarii (l. 10). This rate is then applied to 1 1/6 head, i.e., at a slight
approximation, 450 myr. (l. 11-12). This scale is followed (l. 13-23), by a receipt issued to
a lady of the local bourgeoisie on the basis of this fare, in respect to 1 1/6 of its tenants
(epoikiôtès). The text reproduced here has been revised on the plate of the editio
princeps (Fig. 4).
Fig. 4
647
SB V 7756.
9 It adds a correction to l. 19-20 by R. Rémondon35 and personal readings, explained in

notes. The writings of the scribe are preserved.
Διώρυγος Ἀλεξανδρίας με ρ̣ ι̣ ̣-
σμῶν β τῇ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) ογ ̣
γρι καὶ σιρώματος τῇ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) γ ̣
πρωτίου τῇ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) με
5 ἀναβολικοῦ τῇ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) ξη
ναύλ(ου) στιππίου τ ῇ
̣ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) κε
τ ρ̣ ιμιταρίων τῇ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) οε
[ν]α υ
̣ τῶν Ἰνδίας τῇ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) ν ϛ̣ ̣
[δ]ε̣[υτ]ερίο̣υ [traces]
10 Τῇ κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) τπγ Ľ
ὑ ̣(πὲρ) κεφ ̣(αλῆς) α ϛ´ (γίνονται) (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) υν
κὲ στιππίου δεσ(μοὶ) β γ´
648
(m. 2) Παρέσχεν Φιλαδέλφη θυγάτηρ
Θέωνος ἀπὸ β(ενε)φ(ικιαρίων) ὑπὲρ γενήμα(τος)
15 β ἰνδικτ(ίονος) διώρυγος Ἀλεξανδρεί-
ας καὶ γρει καὶ σιρώματος καὶ πρωτίου
καὶ δευτερίου καὶ ἀναβολικοῦ καὶ ναυ-
τῶν Ἰνδίας α∫⸗ καὶ β∫⸗ μερισμοῦ
καὶ ̣ τ ρ̣ ιμιταρίων ὑπὲρ ἐποικιώτου
20 ἑνὸς ἕκτου ἐποικίου Τανχεω τὰ αἱρ-
οῦντα πλήρης
(Ἔτους) λϛ∫⸗ ε∫⸗, Θὼθ κθ. (m. 3) Εὐλόγιος πραι ̣(πόσιτος)
διʼ ἐμοῦ τοῦ υἱοῦ σεσημίωμαι
[Price scale]
Canal of Alexandria,36
two assignments: per capita, 73 myriads of denarii
gri and sirôma [obscure words and taxes]:37 by head, 3 myriads of denarii
first quality [obscure]:38 per capita, 45 myriads of denarii
5 flax tax:39 per capita, 68 myriads of denarii
freight of tow: per capita, 25 myriads of denarii
Trimitarioi:40 per capita, 75 myriads of denarii
sailors of India, per capita, 56 myriads of denarii (?)
second quality [: per capita x myriad denarii?]41
10 (in total) per capita, 383 ½ myriads42 of denarii
or, for 1 1/6 capita, 45043 myriads of denarii
and 2 1/3 tow bunches.44
[Receipt]
Paid Philadelphia, daughter of Theon, ex-beneficiarius, in accordance with the product45 of
15 the second indiction,46 for Alexandria Canal
649
grei and sirôma, first quality,
second quality, flax tax,
sailors of India, 1st and 2nd assignment,47
trimitarioi, for a tenent
20 and 1/6 of the hamlet of Tancheô,48
her full share,
Year 36 = 5, Thôth 29. Eulogios, praepositus (sc. pagi),49
represented by me, his son, I have subscribed.
10 Among other taxes, the document refers, l. 8 and 17-18, to a tax for the nautai (sailors)
of India. This tax is mentioned, still assigned per capita, by another contemporary
Oxyrhynchite text.50
11 I do not know how to interpret “India”. Until recently, it was admitted that, unlike
during the high imperial period, there were no direct relations between the Indian
continent and the Roman-Byzantine world and that India thus extended from Eritrea,
to the Horn of Africa, South Arabia and the island of Socotora. The Axumite kingdom,
especially via the port of Adoulis, would have served as a mediator in these long-
distance exchanges.51 It seems to me that opinions are evolving. The editor of our
papyrus already noted signs of the development of relations between Byzantium and
India when it was written and recent archaeological excavations at Berenike suggest
that trade with India was still active during the 4th century.
12 Be that as it may, since Lucian and Byzantine sources present Clysma as a centre
connected to India and welcoming ships and products coming from India, it seemed to
me sensible to connect our sailors of India and our new evidence for Clysma.52
13 Who are these nautai? The simplest explanation would be that they are sailors and
technical staff of a public fleet connected to India53 and that taxpayers paid for their
maintenance. Perhaps, considering the tax base, we are dealing with the redeeming, by
the “fiscal heads”, of a personal service on this fleet. The document (as perhaps also the
previous one) can be dated to the reign of Constantius II. Now this emperor was
interested in controlling “India”, as evidenced by the diplomatic mission of
evangelization among the Himyarites, led by Theophilus the Indian (or Blemmye), a
mission datable from 340-342, which would have extended to Axum and Aden,54
evidenced also in his letter of 357 to the Ethiopian kings Aizanas and Sazanas.55 One of
his laws, dated 356, mentions sending agents to these regions, via Alexandria and, who
knows, perhaps even by Clysma.56 Since these people are paid by the annona, they must
be Imperial agents and not merchants as has sometimes been argued. Another passage,
difficult to date, but certainly Byzantine, is the Liber de locis sanctis of Peter the Deacon
mentioning an annual embassy to India of the logothete of Clysma on the orders of the
Emperor.57 In short, the idea of an imperial fleet in India would fit well with the rest of
Constantius II actions in the Red Sea, which Timothy Power characterizes as a
“deliberate Red Sea policy”.58
650
14 Although I should say it is a little obscure, another hypothesis was put forward by the
editor of the document (pp. 108-109). He makes a case of the plural ναῦται, where he
seems to see a community of shipowners. In fact, the collective nautai may designate
guilds of merchants and shipowners, rich and high ranking figures as the nautae
trading along the Gallic rivers.59 For their part, the late Egyptian documents show
equivalence between ναύτης and ναύκληρος, but the naukleroi, whatever their
functions, have greater responsibilities than those of ordinary seamen.60 The nautai in
our papyrus would, therefore, not be sailors in the technical sense, but an association
of businessmen invested in navigation and/or trade with India. Because of the services
they carried out for a state anxious to regain its influence in this part of the world, they
could have received public support. Whatever the case may be, a similar association is
attested at the time in Coptic Egypt by the so-called chronicle Storia della Chiesa di
Alessandria (SCA). At the end of the 4 th century, a group of “big ἔμποροι” specialized in
long-distance trade, particularly with India, richly endowed the Alexandrian
martyrium of John the Baptist which was under construction61. I am tempted to identify
these characters with the ἰνδικοπλευσταί from later periods, known by a graffito from
Abu Sha'ar,62 two passages of the Alexandrian philosopher Olympiodorus, 63 the most
famous being his contemporary who was the Alexandrian merchant and geographer of
the 6th century, Cosmas (floruit between 547 and 549).64
III- Other sources on Byzantine Clysma

Bruyère’s finds
15 Among the useful sources for the history of Byzantine Clysma, it is worth mentioning
the Greek texts discovered by Bruyère, which take us up to the beginning of the
7th century. They are not all published and those that have been published require
revision. Even if port activities do not appear in the texts, they still offer useful
insights. I have, thus, examined, using a photograph provided by the Ifao, the image of
the ostracon SB VI 9549-2, judged as almost certainly Byzantine by Schwartz, his editor,
65 but in which neither the writing nor the onomastics are compatible with the
3rd century as we see in the DDBDP (thus Petros, Jôannes). The 5th or even 6 th century
are possible (Fig. 5).
Fig. 5
651
SB VI 9549.
© IFAO
16 Schwartz has transcribed only the names and left out the bottom of the document and
everything on the right hand side, where individuals are described. But I think I can
read at l. 2, in the abridged form, the profession of Jôannes, that of a plumber, Ἰωάννης
μολιβ(ουργός), or μολιβ(δουργός), for μολυβδουργός, a word and a profession especially
attested in the Late Empire, and notably related to the thermal baths. Indeed, Bruyère
observed lead pipes on the site and in particular the thermal baths.66 This text is,
therefore, useful to the history of craft at Clysma, which is well attested by finds, but
hardly mentioned in the texts. According to a papyrus of the Arabic period, wood
turners are known, perhaps mushrabiya manufacturers. 67 Finally, one has to note that
the papers and the scapular bone used for writing found by Bruyère, are currently
being studied by Naïm Vanthieghem, and should bring new information.
Edict of Arabia
17 I sometimes see a well-known inscription, the Edict of Arabia on the military

organization of the Diocese of the East, promulgated by the Emperor Anastasius
(491-518), linked to the economic life of Clysma. It has been considerably revised by
Denis Feissel. Here is the beginning of the text, which has not changed between
Feissel’s edition and SEG 1554 XXXII. According to many historians, including Mayerson
and Power,68 this passage would attest a kommerkiarios at Clysma, that is to say the head
of a border trade place (commercium).
3 §1 † Ὥστε τὸν δοῦκα μόνα λαμβάν[ειν τὰ ἀφωρισμένα αὐτῷ κατὰ τ]ὸ
4 ἀρχαῖον ἔθος ὑπὲρ ἀννωνῶν καὶ καπ[ίτω]ν ̣ ἐ κ ̣ το[ῦ δημοσίου καὶ ἐκ] τοῦ
5 μέρους τῆς δω[δ]εκάτης κα[ὶ] ἀπὸ κομμ[ερ]κιαρίου [τε τὸν ἐν Μεσοπο]τα-
6 μίᾳ καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ [Κ]λύσματος [τ]ὸν ἐν Παλ ̣[αισ]τίνῃ
652
18 That the duke of Arabia contents himself with perceiving what has been reserved to him
according to the ancient custom for his annona and rations of fodder from the public funds, on
his share (of the tax) of a twelfth, and from the commerciarius for the Duke of Mesopotamia, and
from Clysma for the Duke of Palestine.
19 Taken literally, as Feissel points out to me, the document simply says that the Duke
(military governor of Palestine) will be paid on Clysma's income. So no
kommerkiarios or commercium at Clysma.69
Anastasius Sinaita
20 Most of the ancient sources dealing with the history of Clysma are dated to the 7th and
8th centuries, which is mainly the early Arab period. This corpus is, of course, not
closed.70 So we owe to turn to Federico Morelli the publication in 2001 of papyri that
mention Clysma in informative contexts.71 I want to focus above all on a little known
Greek source, parts of which are even unknown,72 edited by our colleague André
Binggeli (IRHT), in a thesis he is preparing for publication,73 part of which he has kindly
allowed me to quote here. This is the edifying book called Tales useful to the soul by the
monk and theologian Anastasius of Sinai, who wrote in the late 7th century and which
records the frustrations and hopes of a subjugated Christian population, harassed by
the Arab-Muslim conquerors.
21 It contains anecdotes about Clysma which have a background of authenticity, if only
because one of them refers to an Arab governor of the city, hostile to Christians, named
Elias (Ilyas), whose son appears in the papyri.74 These stories sometimes happen in the
milieu of the ναῦται of the city, sailors or, given the context of the following narrative,
the “ship owners” (Binggeli, linking with this translation one of the hypotheses
envisaged earlier on the nautai of SB V 7756).
22 During the years 685/90, there was a Jewish ναύτης from Clysma named Theodoretus.75
His son, who hated the Christians, was appointed epistates (director) of the ergateia
(compulsory works?) at the shipyards by this Elias named above.76 The workers, who
were Christians, wanted to go to the synaxis of the feast of the Theotokos and this wish
was met with a refusal and blasphemies on the part of the epistates. At the moment
when the staff were struggling εἰς τὸ νεωλκὸν τῶν πλοίων, a large beam falls on the
blasphemer (ἔπεσεν ἄνωθεν ξύλον τέλειον) and kills him. The word νεωλκόν is absent
from the papyrus, but we have the verb νεωλκέω in two late documents where it means
to take a boat to land or a dry dock, “Ins Trockendock gehen sollten” or “ein Schiff an
Land ziehen”.77 We will compare, in the Martyrdom of St. Arethas § 29, dry docking, at the
anchorage at Gabaza near Adulis, of vessels mobilized for the Ethiopian expedition
against the Himyarites (ἐκέλευσεν διολκηθῆναι ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς).78 The νεωλκόν could be a
device or a place to put boats in dry dock, a “capstan” according Binggeli, or a
“boathouse”.79 However, by analogy with the famous boat ramp at the Isthmus of
Corinth, the Δίολκος, we could still see a transhipment device towards the Trajan's
canal, a ramp, or a kind of elevator.80 Anyway, this anecdote tells us something about
Clysma's port facilities.
23 There was then at Clysma a certain Azariah, chief of the doukatores, πρῶτος τῶν
λεγομένων δουκατόρων.81 The word δουκάτωρ which is of latin origin, is mainly known
in the sense of a scout, and in military contexts.82 The Glossaries have ἀγοί, ἀγωγεύς,
653
ἡγεμόνες, προηγούμενοι (CGL, Goetz, II, 56), qui viam ostendit (ibid. 452 V). At Clysma
there would have been a corporation of scouts or guides presided over by a foreman
(πρῶτος). Such an institution seems necessary in a desert environment like that of
Clysma. Egeria § 7, 2 and 4, Maraval, p. 154 and 156 says that she used military guides
qui nos deducebant semper de castro ad castrum (...) et nos juxta consuetudinem deduxerunt
inde usque ad aliud castrum, on her way from fort to fort in the desert, from Clysma to
the city of Arabia. Another meaning could be given by Dig. IX, 2, 29 § 4. The jurist
Ulpian defines the civil liabilities if a ship collides with another and if damage results.
The lawsuit will target the gubernator or ducator.83 Ulpian, therefore, puts ducator on the
same level as the gubernator who is the commander of the ship, without combining
them. I suppose we should see a ducator a “pilot”, guiding the ship in its movements. As
maritime access to Clysma was difficult,84 we can conceive that sailors needed
experienced pilots or tugs to get into or out of the port.
24 This information is intended only to add more to Clysma's history, but does not call for
any conclusions. I hope at least to have shown that it is beneficial to revise the edited
texts.
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Hagedorn D. 1997. “Bemerkungen zu Urkunden”. ZPE 115, pp. 221-224.
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(eds.), Helsinki, pp. 469-485.
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Lauffer S. 1971. Diokletians Preisedikt, Berlin.
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33, pp. 61–64.
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JNES 55, pp. 119-126.
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pp. 79-101.
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Schiffen. Eine Neuedition von P. Vind. Bosw. 14”. ZPE 129, pp. 259-264.
Montinaro F. 2013. “Les premiers commerciaires byzantins”. T&M 17, pp. 351-538.
Power T. 2012. The Red Sea from Byzantium to the Caliphate: AD 500-1000. Cairo, New York.
Rémondon R. 1970. “La date de l'introduction en Égypte du système fiscal de la
capitation”. In Proceedings of the Twelfth International Congress of Papyrology. D.H. Samuel
(ed.), Toronto, pp. 431-436.
Schneider P. 2004. L'Éthiopie et l'Inde : interférences et confusions aux extrémités du monde
antique : VIIIe siècle avant J.-C. - VIe siècle après J.-C., Rome.
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historiques et géographiques de l'isthme de Suez 2 [1949], pp. 25-30.
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Sheridan J. 1999. “The anabolikon”. ZPE 124, pp. 211-217.
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FOOTNOTES
1. A short version of this paper was presented to Hélène Cuvigny at a seminar in November 2015.
Thanks for photo credits EES (Dr Carl Graves) and the archives of the IFAO (Cédric Larcher).
2. Bagnall 1980, pp. 185-196 (BL VIII)= Bagnall 2003, n° 2, paper XVIII.
3. For the later date see Bagnall 1991, p. 39 (BL VIII)= Bagnall 2003, n° 3, paper XX.
4. Mερισμ(ὸς) ἀρουρ(ῶν) ιε (ἔτους) ἰνδικ(τίονος) editio princeps. The plural μερισμ(ῶν), in the
“genitive of the accountants”, is preferable to μερισμ(ὸς) since the text details several
assignments (JG). There is no need to see in the numerical mark that follows ιε the symbol of ἔτος
(editio princeps).
5. This line records either a further assignment in connection with the l. 3, or a conversion rate.
6. Θαλαττίωνος editio princeps. A form interpreted without excessive conviction (only on the
basis in accordance of the deceptive parallelism of l. 12) as a non existent proper name. This
hapax has been removed by reading ὁς for ὡς, “in proportion of” (P.CairoIsid. 59, n. 4; BL IV). The
tax on θαλάττια (sc. πλοῖα) is well known (as in P.Oxy. XLVIII 3424, 3).
7. On this fee, see Carrié 1979, pp. 156-176 and on its relationship with other military taxes
(mules, recruits), see Gascou and Worp 1984, pp. 122-126.
8. Ἀμμωνιακῆς (JG). The editio princeps wrote ἀμμωνιακῆς with no capital letter and suggests
with some reservations, the complement ὠνῆς, probably in the meaning of buying or farming
ammonia salt (“monopoly of the ammonia” according to Déléage 1945, p. 73), a product of the
Ammoniace (Siwa), but as the word ἅλς is masculine, it is better here to see the place name itself,
with the paralipsis of Ὀάσεως (P.Oxy. XLIII 3126, i. 1, ii 4-5) or Λιβύης (Olympiodorus,
Commentary on Aristotle's Meteorology, Stüve, p. 119 and 124). The tax was to finance some
public activity at Siwa, or some transport related to Siwa.
9. Reading of Déléage 1945, pp. 73 and 77 (BL III), instead of [βοῶ]ν ̣ (editio princeps) the
reading ὀρ]ν ̣(έων). The meaning of “chickens” is confirmed by a heracleopolitan fiscal text
from the years 320-330 connected to two mentions of chickens and eggs (treats for the senior
military or government officials), SB XXVI v ° 16441, 2 (πρώτου) μερ(ισμοῦ) γάλ(ακτος) ϛ´
ὀρν(έων) α ᾠῶ ν ̣ ̣ α Ľ; 5 γάλ(ακτος) ḍ ὀρν(έων) β γ' ᾠῶν [ ; same context in l. 6 and 7 (see
editio princeps of Mitthof 1998-1999, pp. 89-92).
10. The tax on oxen and asses is mentioned in the 5th century by P.Oxy. LI 3636, 17 (see l. 4).
11. L. 18: read probably 4 myriads, to remain in the order of magnitude of the allocation rate for
oxen (JG).
12. [ἀχύρ]ου (suggested by Déléage 1945, p. 73; not included in BL), instead of [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣]ου in the
editio princeps. It is straw or chaff for the cavalry. The allocation, 7 2/3 pounds per aroura is of
the same order of magnitude as in P.Leid.Inst. 67, 15 (5th century): 12, 5 pounds.
13. The editors proposed with some reservations, without integrating it into the text, but
certainly rightly, the reading λο[υσω]ρίου ἡγεμόνος, a fee for the yacht of the provincial civil
656
governor (praeses). Other texts refer to these official boats in similar contexts. So we have a
contemporary text, SB VI 9563, i 13 and ii 15, payments for the λουσώριον κόμητ[ος], that is to
say to the military governor of Egypt. What precedes in P.Oxy. XVI 1905 is mutilated. The editors
suggest [δαπάν]ης, “for the expenses”, a reading which fills the gap well.
14. [ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣]ριας editio princeps The first sign, reduced to its upper part, could be the top of the
loop of an α, which suggests a reading ἐρ]α̣ίας, for ἐρέας (JG). It is not unusual to see wool and
alum associated.
15. κρ(ιθῶν) instead of κρ(ιθῆς) (editio princeps) would be consistent with the classicising use of
the time (Clarysse 2014, pp. 101-108). Compare at the same period P.Oxy. XLVIII 3408, 8, 14.
16. Bruyère 1966, pp. 90-91 and 92-94.
17. Bruyère 1966, pp. 91-92.
18. Brun 2014-2015, pp. 498-499.
19. Schwartz 1948 [1949], pp. 27-28.
20. P.Abinn. 30, 23-24; 35, 29; 37, 3-4, (under Constantius II). P.Mich. VIII 519, 6-7 is later (probably
5th century; BL X). P.Mert. I 24, 21-22 is certainly older (around 200 AD), but this date, according to
the plate, may be changed for the 2nd half of the 3rd century.
21. Bruyère 1966, p. 118 (noting that Roger Rémondon was of the same opinion); see also
Bruyère p. 52.
22. P.Bub. I 4 lxix, 2.
23. P .CairoIsid. 81: it deals with the substitute for a villager from Karanis charged with two
months labour in the canal (ποταμός).
24. Sheehan 2015.
25. According to the milestone of Tell al-Maskhuta (Heropolis), placed in 306/7, CIL III 6633, 6=
ILS 657: ab Ero in Clysma m. VIIII θ.
26. In 332, P.Oxy. XII 1426 refers to the sending to the ποταμός of Trajan of a worker, ἐργάτης,
assigned to two villages; about the same time, according to P.Oxy. LV 3814, thirty τέκτονες are
sent to the said ποταμός.
27. In 423, according to PSI I 87, an ἐργάτης of the διῶρυξ addresses an epimeletes about the
cleaning of the waterway, ἀνακάθαρσις; PSI VI 689 A is a guarantee issued in 423/4 to the
epimeletes of the διῶρυξ for a worker sent for a period of three months; PSI VI 689 B and C seem
to have the same purpose; PSI VI 689 D probably contains a similar provision for 420/21.
P. Wash. Univ. I 7, 5-6, attributed to the 5/6th century, refers to cleaning the διῶρυξ.
28. Aubert 2004a, p. 239.
29. The traveler simply refers to a branch of the Nile that flows Hero(polis): pars quaedam
fluminis Nili ibi currit (§ 7, 8, Maraval, p. 158).
30. Mayerson 1996a, p. 64.
31. In addition to the article cited in n. 27, see the same Aubert 2004b, pp. 93-107. Despite
objections from Jördens 2007, p. 470, n. 3, repeated view in Jördens 2009, p. 422, n. 113), J.-
J. Aubert maintains his views in Aubert 2015, pp. 33-42. This is the place to thank J.-J. Aubert for
providing me with these two studies.
32. Mayerson 1996b, pp. 121 and 123.
33. Bell 1934, pp. 105-111.
34. I admit that this view is isolated, but this is not the place to discuss it, even though I would
be able to justify it.
35. Rémondon 1970, p. 435, BL VI.
36. On the canal of Alexandria, see Bernand 1970, I, 1, pp. 329-380, which does not discuss the
papyrus, and Hairy, Sennoune 2009, pp. 140-161. According to P.Lond. IV 1353 (10 ii 710), it was
like Trajan’s canal, it was an intermittent waterway, which was used only during the flood.
657
37. The editor links γρι and γρῦ (κόκκος, grain) and interprets it as a tax for grain impurities. He
thinks σίρωμα derives from σιρός, storage vessel. Rémondon (1970) translates “digging and
building silos”. He refers γρι via Crum (Copt.Dic., 828A), to the Coptic ϭΡΗ, “dig” (BL VI, also citing
a similar opinion of Hélène Cadell). I cannot comment.
38. R. Rémondon (Rémondon 1970) thought with some reservations that it was connected to the
quality of wine (and the same for the δευτέριον, l. 15-16 and possibly l. 9), which is not without
papyrological examples, but these terms are also used for other products (PUG V 209 ii, 1 with a
copious note from the editor). Note, in this case, that the tax under πρωτεῖον comes back at the
same period in P.Oxy. XLVIII 3408, 12. The context, an ambiguous syntax, highlighted in n. 10-11
and 13, suggests that it is of some variety or quality of flax, since the collection of πρωτεῖον is
under the responsibility of τοὺς ἐπὶ σιππίου of the village of Tampemou, loaded at the same time,
in addition to the tow, of the ἀναβολικόν, a type of tax that was also related to flax.
39. See Sheridan 1999, pp. 211-217.
40. The trimitarioi (weavers of looms with three lisses) are attested in P.Ant. I 33, r 10, within the
context of military taxation. Bell 1934, from the Glossaries (CGL, Goetz, III, p. 309, l. 44), links
triliciarius, a maker of τρίμιτος (trilix, fabric with three yarns or made on a loom with three bars).
Denis Feissel indicated to me Ζωσίμη τριμιταρία in a funerary inscription from Syracuse (Wessel
1989, n. 153, p. 40), which is also a nickname of Laodicea on the Lycus (Feissel, referring me to the
miracle n° 13 of Saints Cosmas and Damian, Deubner, p. 132, with note of pp. 235-236, and
concilar lists of 449 and 451). As Laodicea was famous for its wool (Deubner quoted), it may be
that the trimitarioi worked with this material, but I do not wish to discuss further the technical
sense of the τρίμιτος base (see Lauffer, 1971, p. 265, n. 37). I wish to thank Dominique Cardon for
a helpful message to measure the complexity of a problem whose solution is more within her
research than mine.
41. The reading of the editio princeps [μ]ερι σ̣ μ
̣ ῶ ν
̣ ̣ α ρ̣ ̣ τ̣ ο̣ ̣ τ̣ ε̣ ̣ was amended
by Rémondon 1970, p. 432, in [μ]ερι σ̣ μ ̣ ῶ ν
̣ ̣ α (ἔτους) καὶ β (ἔτους), “for distributions of the
1st and 2 nd year”, implicitly after Déléage 1945, p. 113 (BL IV). The last reading was rightly
rejected by Bagnall 1980 (cited n. 2), p. 188, n. 7. Judging from the receipt, l. 17, this line should
relate to the tax of the “second quality” δευτέριον. Bell 1934 considered this, but sticks to
[μ]ερι σ̣ μ
̣ ῶ ν
̣ ̣. He undervalued the initial gap that he filled in with a single sign, the μ of
[μ]ερι σ̣ μ
̣ ῶ ν
̣ ,̣ while the textual loss is 3 or 4 letters. Moreover, this gap is not empty,
because we distinguish, through the υ of the ναυτῶν of l. 8, the upper traces (reduced to a point)
of a high letter, which could be an ε. Then we can retain ]ερι̣, because the ι, although reduced to
its upper part is almost certain. We have therefore, [ ̣]ε̣[ . ]ερι̣. It is tempting to read [δ]ε̣[υτ]ερίο̣υ.̣
The final υ̣, very thin, is not certain, but we have similar forms in the rest of the text. I admit that
my ο is difficult to read and I understand that Bell 1934 has read it as a σ, but as any papyrologist
knows, the ancient ο results from the vertical adjustment, not always successful, of two
semicircles. In this case, I guess that the scribe used the second half element to link the ο to the υ.
Thus ο remained opened and it took the morphology of a σ. As for the traces that follow, I do not
feel able to go further, as there seems to have been a correction above the line, at the end. It
must, in any case, contain a similar expression to the rest of the contribution rate namely τῇ
κεφ(αλῇ) α (δηναρίων) (μυριάδες) x. The amount of δευτέριον should be about 38 myriads.
42. Déléage 1945, p. 113, and n. 3 followed by Rémondon 1970, restored, τπγ ϛ´ (1/6) (BL III), to
arrange his calculations, but the plate makes a reading of the fraction 1/2 better, as in editio
princeps.
43. Déléage 1945 added [ϛ´] (BL III), to make sense of his calculations, but Rémondon 1970 does
not take into account this reconstruction.
44. These tow bunches are not priced and the taxpayer does not receive a receipt, unless these
deliveries in kind balanced the freight for the tow bunches mentioned in l. 6.
658
45. γενημά ̣(των) editio princeps. The plural is not required. The word kept the meaning of
“harvest” by commentators, especially Bagnall 1980 to justify a contemporary theory of κεφαλή
as a land unit and not attached to a person (BL IX), but those taxes are unrelated to crops and
their tax base is not land. I think that this is a way to express the idea of tax revenue per year.
46. The numeral mark after β is interpreted in the editio princeps as a symbol of the year
(ἔτους), which is not necessary (JG in BL VIII).
47. (ἔτους) καὶ β (ἔτους) μερισμοῦ editio princeps (followed by Rémondon 1970). The numeral
marks were taken as the symbol of the year, but there could be several μερισμοί per year (JG in
BL VIII). Read μερισμῶν.
48. A place north of the Oxyrhynchite nome (Benaissa 2012, p. 369).
49. This person, perhaps a curial of Oxyrhynchus during the years 359-365, is known in this
function by P.Oxy. XLVIII 3400, 30 and 3425, 7. See P.Oxy. XLVIII 3393, introduction.
50. P.Oxy. XLVIII 3408, 17-19: καὶ τὰ ἀργύρια τῆς Ἰνδίας τῇ κεφαλ(ῇ) σὺν ἀλλαγῆς (δηναρίων)
(μυριάδας) μ σὺν ἀλλαγῆς ou συναλλαγῆς (ed, n. 18.).
51. For the ancient conceptions of India, see Schneider 2004.
52. Lucien, Alexandre § 44 ; Anonymous of Piacenza § 41, 6, Milani p. 217 : civitas parva, quae
appellatur Clysme, ubi de India naves veniunt (...) 9 illic accepimus nuces plenas virides que de India
venerunt (...) ; Peter the Deacon, Liber de locis sanctis, Geyer, CSEL 39, p. 116 : portus mittit ad Indiam
uel excipit uenientes naues de India; alibi enim nusquam in Romano solo accessum habent naues de India
nisi ibi. Naues autem ibi et multae et ingentes sunt; quare portus famosus est pro aduenientibus ibi
mercatoribus de India (sometimes considered as a loan of a lost part of Egeria’s Journal).
53. P.Oxy. XLVIII 3408 n. 18, “crew”.
54. Philostorgius, Ecclesiastical History III 4-6, Bidez, Des Places, Bleckmann, Meyer, Prieur,
pp. 242-256, with n. 3 p. 243 ; Ivanov 2015, pp. 27-28.
55. Athanasius, Apologia ad Constantium, § 31, Szymusiak, pp. 124-126 (Ivanov 2015, p. 32).
56. CTh XII 12, 2 (15 i 356): nullus ad gentem Axumitarum et Homeritarum ire praeceptus ultra annui
temporis spatia debet Alexandriae de cetero demorari nec post annum percipere alimonias annonarias. It is
the interpretation of Darley 2013, 299: “bureaucrats”.
57. Geyer, CSEL 39, 116; see Mayerson 1996b, p. 124 and Mayerson 1996a, pp. 61-64.
58. Power 2012, p. 52.
59. Tran 2013, pp. 103-104.
60. See remarks of Mitthof, CPR XXIII 34, n. 2-3, p. 219 and CPR XXIV 23, n. 2.
61. SCA II, Orlandi, p. 14 and p. 62: mercatores, qui ibant in Indiam et in (alias) regiones remotas,
ferentes ei res omnis generis.
62. SB XXII 15373 (Bagnall, Sheridan 1994, p. 112). A Latin inscription of the Tetrarchy from Abu
Sha’ar (by the same authors) reported mercator[, in an unclear context. I cannot comment on the
interpretation of the site as a port, which is not clearly established.
63. Commentary on Aristotle's Meteorology, Stüve (quoted by Bagnall and Sheridan), l. 81, 26:
ἀμέλει διὰ ταύτην τὴν αἰτίαν πολλοὶ ἰνδικοπλευσταὶ ναυάγουσι μὴ εἰδότες τοῦτο; 163, 3 ὅθεν
ἰνδικοπλευσταὶ πολλάκις ζημιοῦνται πάνυ. Seawater (Olympiodorus follows Aristotle here) is
denser and, therefore, more buoyant than lake water, so ignorant of that, the indikopleustai often
sank and lost their cargo in the lakes. We see that the indikopleustai were not just on the seas.
64. Christian Topography II 54, Wolska-Conus p. 365 (the subject matter is Adulis): ἔνθα καὶ τὴν
ἐμπορίαν ποιούμεθα οἱ ἀπὸ Ἀλεξανδρείας καὶ ἀπὸ Ἐλᾶ ἐμπορευόμενοι; understand that
Cosmas was πραγματευτής according from II 56, Wolska-Conus p. 369 (the title of indikopleustès is
however awarded to him only after the 11th century; Wolska-Conus p. 16).
65. Schwartz 1948, p. 26.
66. Bruyère 1966, pp. 69-70, pp. 73-74.
659
67. SB X 10459, 5: δαπάνης τῶν τωρ ν

̣ ε̣ υ
̣ τ̣ ῶν τοῦ Κλύσ[ματος. Bruyère 1966, pp. 85-86,
found evidence of this kind of work at Clysma (wood crafts at Clysma are indicated by Arabic
literature).
68. Mayerson 1966b, p. 123 (“controler of foreign trade”; the author has commercius, commercii);
Power 2012, p. 32.
69. The two hypotheses on this mention of Clysma in the Edict are still considered by Montinaro
2013, pp. 382-383 (reported by Denis Feissel).
70. The Greek papyri mentioning Clysma are easily accessible by DDBDP; for other sources, see
the rich collection of Timm 1991, pp. 2164-2171.
71. CPR XXII 22, l. 2; 43, l. 3, l. 44, l. 10; to the same Morelli we owe new mention of boats at
Clysma in a bilingual document in the file of Qurra b. Sharik, P.Schott Rein. I 22, l. 10 (SB I 5643) (BL
XI).
72. Alleged however by Hoyland 1996, but not according to the current perspective.
73. Binggeli 2001.
74. Binggeli 2001, vol. II, p. 4, n. 77: his son the ἐπικείμενος ʽAbd al-Raḥmān is mentioned at the
beginning of the 8th century in P.Lond. IV 1414, 57 and 100 and CPR XXII 43, 3 [ gap ] ̣ ̣
τε χ̣ ν
̣ (ι)τ(ῶν) κα μ
̣ ό̣ ν
̣ τ̣ (ων) εἰ(ς) τ(ὰ) πλοῖα τοῦ Κλύσμα τ̣ (ος) ὑ π
̣ ̣(ὸ)
Αβδερααμα ̣(ν) υἱο(ῦ) Ἠλία ἐ[π]ι κ
̣ ε̣ ̣[ιμένου.
75. Binggeli 2001, tale n. II, l. 9 (vol I, p. 229; Vol II, p. 544). Given the responsibilities entrusted
to his son by the authorities, this ναύτης was more than just a marine or sailor.
76. Θεοδώρητός τις τὴν θρησκείαν Ἰουδαῖος ὑπάρχων ναύτης ἐτύγχανε πρὸ τούτων τῶν ἐτῶν
ἐν τῷͅ Κλύσματι. Τούτου τοῦ Θεοδωρήτου, ἤτοι θεοχολώτου τὸν υἱὸν Ἠλίας ὁ μισόχριστος, ὁ
τοῦ Κλύσματος κατέστηκεν ἐπιστάτην ἐπάνω τῆς ἐργατείας.
77. SB XXVI 16763 ii, 16 (Mitthof 2000, pp. 259-264, and n. 16 of the p. 264, referring to P.Bad. IV
49 [VBP IV 49], 12-13 read νεώλκησον δὲ τὴν σκ̣[ά]φην ἐκ τοῦ ὕδατος by Hagedorn 1997, p. 224).
78. § 29, Detoraki, Beaucamp 2007, p. 263.
79. Flusin 1991, p. 407.
80. Aubert 2004a, p. 246 and 2004b, p. 13, consider this and specifically mentions the Diolkos.
81. Binggeli 2001, tale n. II, l. 13 (vol I, pp. 233-234; vol II, pp. 548-549, with n. 87 of the p. 548).
82. Thus a unit of equites ducatores Illyriciani Amida according to Notitia Dignitatum Or. XXXVI
(Duke of Mesopotamia).
83. Si navis alteram contra se venientem obruisset, aut in gubernatorem aut in ducatorem actionem
competere damni iniuriae Alfenus ait, etc. “If a boat collided with another coming in the opposite
direction, the court action motivated by the wrong of the damage will be applicable to the
captain or the skipper, according to Alfenus”.
84. See Mayerson 1996b, p. 120, alleging adverse winds, changing currents, the reefs.
AUTHOR
Jean Gascou
Professor Emeritus at Paris Sorbonne University (Paris IV)
660
The Eastern Desert in Late Antiquity

Jean-Luc Fournet
1 During this two day conference, devoted primarily to Hellenistic and Roman periods,
the organizer requested that I present a paper dealing with late antiquity and reporting
on documentation relevant to the Eastern Desert during this period. Unfortunately,
papyrological evidence is virtually nonexistent after the 3rd century AD in the Eastern
Desert. So, I will use epigraphic and literary sources and archaeological data. The
Eastern Desert is vast (Fig. 1 and 2). I shall exclude cities situated on the Nile as well as
on the Red Sea coast, focusing on the desert area, strictly speaking. As a specialist of
written sources, this considerably reduces the scope of my paper. I do not promise any
discovery or revelation (I no longer have the chance to work in this region), but I will
close this conference by reviewing the centuries that followed the great epoch of the
Eastern Desert that recent archaeological excavations have brilliantly rediscovered.
Fig. 1
661
Map of the northern part of the Eastern Desert.

Fig. 2
Map of the southern part of the Eastern desert (after D. Meredith, Tabula
Imperii Romani, sheet N.G. 36, “Coptos”, Oxford 1958).
662
1. Eremitic monasticism
2 The desert, in late antiquity, was very closely related to monasticism, especially
eremitic. This consubstantial link between space and form of Christian ascetic life is
well summarized by the multiple meanings of the Greek word ὄρος which means both
“desert/mountain” (in the sense of ğabal) but also “monastery” —as indeed the Coptic
equivalent ⲧⲟⲟⲩ.1 Egyptian Christianity is, thus, characterized, among other things, by
the installation of monastic settlements away from inhabited areas, in the arid and
silent desert depths to the point that the deserts of Egypt became inhabited by monks
and hermits, as a city to quote the famous words of the Life of Anthony attributed to
Athanasius (§ 14)2 and that “there were as many monks in the desert as lays in the rest
of the world,” as said by Abba Apollo in the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto (8, 20).3 The
Eastern Desert was no exception. I will not dwell a great deal on this aspect of the
history of this region because eremitic monasticism is not unique to the Eastern Desert;
the Western Desert, from the margins of the Delta until Nubia, offers even more
evidence of monastic desert settlements.
3 I will not teach you anything by saying that the most important monastic centres of the
Eastern Desert are the monasteries of St. Paul (Dayr Anbā Būlā) and St. Anthony (Dayr
Anbā Anṭūniyūs) (Fig. 1 and 3)4 and several hermitages around them. The Life of Anthony
(§ 49) tells us that Anthony, the founder of Egyptian monasticism (c. 251-356), wanting
to escape the crowds that filled more of his hermitage at Pispir, which was easily
accessible to visitors,5 asked Saracens who were living in the Arabian Desert to guide
him deeper into the wilderness. After three days of camel travel, he stopped in a place
that he found suitable for asceticism in the Wādī ‘Araba, at the foot of the Ğabal al-
Ğalāla al-Qibliyya. After his death, the place attracted other hermits to the point that a
monastery was built, perhaps under Julian the Apostate. In any case Sulpicius Severus
visited the monastery in about AD 400 as he tells us in his Dialogues on St. Martin
“Virtues”, I 17, 1: “I went to two monasteries (monasteria) of the blessed Anthony, which
are still today inhabited by his disciples. I even went as far as the place where the most
blessed Paul, the first hermit stayed”.6 This text shows that the monastery of St. Paul
was already associated with that of St. Anthony. Paul would be the first hermit
according to Jerome (Life of Paul, written in the 370s): “[...] it was then the 103 rd year
since the blessed Paul was leading on earth a heavenly life; Anthony, then
nonagenarian, stayed in another solitude —he himself often recalled it— when it
occurred to him that no one but himself had settled in the desert. But one night, while
sleeping, he had the revelation that, deeper inside the desert, there was another man
much better than he and that he should hasten to visit him” (§ 7).7 This is how Anthony
went to visit his elder. It has been demonstrated that this story is apocryphal and that
the monastery of St. Paul, located in the narrow Wādī al-Dayr southeast of the Wādī
‘Araba, had been founded later.8 Nevertheless, the monastery of St. Paul has been very
popular over the years due to the popularity of this saint. However mythical the story
may be, St. Paul’s Monastery has attracted many pilgrims and appears sometimes more
famous than St. Anthony’s. During the 6th century, the traveller called Anonymous of
Piacenza records that, from Clysma, he “went through the wilderness, to the cave of
Paul, that is to say syracumba. The source continues to give water until now. Then again
through the desert, we reached the cataracts of the Nile” (Itinerary, 43).9 The
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Anonymous did not visit the monastery of St. Anthony. On the other hand, the Eastern
Desert was a place for tourist excursions, if we believe the author —but a journey from
Wādī al-Dayr to the cataracts of the Nile, without passing through the valley, seems
improbable enough to cast some doubt on the reliability of this text. It is, nonetheless,
true that these monasteries, despite their remote location, attracted both ascetics and
also pilgrims. Some hermits settled in the wâdis, which coming from Ğabal al-Ğalāla al-
Qibliyya, open onto the Wādī ‘Araba via the Wādī Hannaba and Wādī Nitfa (or Natfa)
where ‘Ayn Barda and Bi’r Baḫīt (sometimes called Abū ḫīt) have been identified as
hermitages.10
Fig. 3
Entrance of the monastery of St. Anthony's.

© J.-L. Bovot
4 Further north, 68 km south of Suez and 28 km from ‘Ayn Suḫna, another monastic site
is located at Dayr Abū Darağ (“the monastery of the father of the steps”, Fig. 1); it was
dedicated to St. John Climacus (a monk in the Sinai who died in 649; author of The Holy
Scale) from whom the Arabic name is derived ( darağ = κλῖμαξ). 11 Stefan Timm 12
nevertheless rejects any connection with the Sinai saint, who was unrelated to the
eastern shore of the Red Sea; he prefers to identify the eponymous figure as John
Kolobos or John the Small (monk living during the 4th-5th century) who left Scete for the
region of Suez. The mountains surrounding the monastery are dotted with hermitages
described by the Father Sicard in his Edifying Letters, and rediscovered by the Father
Maurice Martin (Fig. 4a-b).13 Hermitages seem to indicate an occupation lasting from
the 8th to the 10th century perhaps preceding the construction of the monastery.
Fig. 4a
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The hermitage of Dayr Abū Daraǧ rediscovered by Maurice Martin:

entrance (BSAC 18, 1965-1966, p. 139-145, pl. II).
© M. Martin
Fig. 4b
The hermitage of Dayr Abū Daraǧ rediscovered by Maurice Martin:

interior of the second room (BSAC 18, 1965-1966, p. 139-145, pl. II).
© M. Martin
5 The area located south of St. Anthony and St. Paul housed other monastic settlements,
mainly at Mons Porphyrites (Fig. 2),14 whose monks often appear in literary sources
such as Palladius’ Lausiac History (34, 3; 36, 1-3), John Cassian’s Institutes (10, 24), the
Apophthegmata patrum (N 371, coll. anon.) or John Moschus’ Pratum spirituale (Spiritual
665
Meadow, 124).15 That part of the Eastern Desert from Porphyrites to Berenike has been
the subject of numerous archaeological investigations in recent years by specialists
most of whom are involved in this conference.16 Therefore, a synthesis of the Late
Roman/early Christian history of the region is still premature.
6 As said before, this new population which arrived in certain areas of the Eastern Desert
following the expansion of Christianity and the vogue for asceticism in a desert
environment was not a phenomenon peculiar to this area. Nevertheless, another
population, nomads specific of this region, caught the attention of the ancients and,
therefore, deserves comment. These nomads, who crisscrossed the Eastern Desert and
sometimes settled there, did not always cohabit peacefully with the hermits as many
accounts suggest. For example, an apophthegm of the Desert Fathers tells us that the
monastery of St. Anthony was attacked by Saracens while under the direction of Apa
Sisoes who lived there for 72 years just after the death of Antony.17
2. Saracens, Blemmyes and other travellers

7 The presence of non-Greco-Egyptian populations in the desert, their nomadism and
their various origins, as witnessed by a wide range of ethnic group names in Greek,
marked the ancients and sometimes stimulated their imagination. Understanding
which groups the names may designate is not straightforward;18 often Hellenocentrism
prevented any curiosity about these peoples, who were grouped in the convenient
category of “barbarians”.19 This generic term is a common epithet for these nomadic
populations in ostraka discovered in forts on the route between Coptos and Myos
Hormos, in which they are sometimes mentioned when clashes occurred with Roman
soldiers.20
8 Moreover, what we call the Eastern Desert covers different areas, which have been
occupied by various ethnic groups over the millennia. Recent work by Timothy Power21
has shown that there were, from an ethnic point of view, several Eastern Deserts. The
area north of the road to Myos Hormos was inhabited by nomads or semi-sedentary
occupants of Arab origin. Since the Bronze Age, they wandered in the Sinai, the eastern
Delta and the northern part of the Eastern Desert. Our sources refer to them as “Arabs”
or “Saracens” —remember that Anthony made his way through the desert occupied by
Saracens. In the late 4th century, Ammianus Marcellinus, XIV 4, 3, evokes the Saracens,
calling them also Arabes scenitae (“Arabs living in tents”) and saying that “among these
people who are living in an area beginning with Assyria and extending as far as the
Cataracts of the Nile and the frontiers of the Blemmyes, all are warriors, half-naked,
wrapped up to the girdle in short coloured coats; they move with fast horses and
meagre camels in opposite directions, both in peace and wartime”.22 It is not certain
that this description does not encompass various ethnic groups, but we note that
Ammianus locates the Saracens north of the Blemmyes. At about the same time
(towards AD 380), when Egeria travelled from Clysma (Suez) to Phakoussa(i) (now
Fāqūs, Fig. 1), she journeyed through the “land of the Saracens”.23 The presence of
these Arab tribes seems to be attested in Abū Ša‘ar in late antiquity according to certain
texts of the 4th-6th century found in the church during the 1987-1993 excavations and
edited by Roger Bagnall and Jenifer Sheridan:24 they contain anthroponyms of Arab
origin such as Salamanis (or Salaman, a name attested in P. Nessana) found in an
inscription of the 4th-6th century,25 or Slamo (a name also attested in the form Salamo,
666
closer to the previous one) that appears in a letter of the 5th-6th century26 They were
probably members of a semi-sedentarised Saracen population.
9 South of Wādī Hammāmāt, that is to say from the route to Myos Hormos (Fig. 2),
references to the Arabs become rarer. According to Timothy Power, “the regions of the
Eastern Desert, broadly from the Sinai Peninsula to Wadi Hammamat, can therefore be
interpreted as the ancestral territory of Arab nomads, a situation further found on the
ground today with the Arab Ma‘aza Bedouin of the Gallala Plateau. At the same lime, it
is noteworthy that neither the historically attested pattern of Blemmye raiding, nor the
sites with Eastern Desert Ware extend north of Wadi Hammamat. The medieval and
contemporary northern limits of the territory of the Beja tribes respect this valley,
suggesting that this boundary is perhaps of some antiquity”.27 Power thinks it possible
that the border between the Saracens and the Blemmyes could be the axis from Coptos
to Myos Hormos with the forts and towers that marked it.
10 Toward the south, the term Saracens scarcely appears in the sources and gives way to
other populations, the most prominent of which is the Blemmyes. Here again the term
Blemmyes seems to be often used in ancient sources to designate various populations of
southern origin ranging from pure nomads to more sedentary groups. It is not the only
group to be mentioned: our sources also record the Megabaroi, the Trog(l)odytes (that
Scholia to Theocritus assimilated to Blemmyes), 28 not counting, of course, the
No(u)bades or Nobatai.29 The sources are numerous on these populations, often partial
and contradictory. We also have documents that emanate directly from them, such as
the “Blemmye papyri” from Gebelein or the inscriptions found in Philae and at other
sites in southern Egypt. My purpose here is not to make an assessment on the history of
Blemmyes and Noubades30 –this is beyond the scope of this communication– and this
history is still to be written, if indeed the subject allows it, taking into account that we
are dealing with nomadic populations that have left little written or archaeological
traces in areas not systematically excavated. I will confine myself to what concerns the
Eastern Desert, recalling that a great change in the geopolitics of these populations
occurred in late antiquity. It is during the 4th century that the Blemmyes and the
Noubades become increasingly visible in our sources. They appear as either rising from
the desert to plunder and terrorize the population of the Nile Valley or as interlocutors
of Roman-Byzantine power in diplomatic negotiations. According to Procopius, De Bellis,
I 19, 27-37,31 Diocletian was the first who negotiated with them: he gave to the
Noubades territories in the Nile Valley around Elephantine and paid tribute to them in
order to stop their raids and to counter the thrust of the Blemmyes. He also gave the
Noubades and the Blemmyes possession of the temple of Philae. This story, written in
the 6th century, seemed very suspicious to moderns who imagine a contamination from
what Procopius knew about Justinianic policy. It remains true that other sources attest
diplomatic relations between the Blemmyes and the Romans: Eusebius of Caesarea, in
his Life of Constantine, 4, 7, describes the Blemmyes waiting in an antechamber at
Constantinople to be received by the emperor while the famous P.Abinnaeus 1, a Latin
petition to the emperors Constantius II and Constans (340 to 342), found at Dionysias,
indicates that the officer Abinnaeus was mandated to conduct Blemmye refugees to
Constantinople, and then to escort them back to their country where he spent three
years. A text written in about AD 423 confirms the thrust of the Blemmyes towards the
north, which explains these negotiations. This brings us back to the heart of the
Eastern Desert. The Theban Olympiodorus, at once poet, diplomat, historian and
explorer, apparently dwelt among them. I quote the passage as transmitted by Photios
667
in the codex 80 of its Library (62a): 32 “The historian said that during his trip to survey
the neighbourhood of Thebes and Syene, leaders and ‘Prophets’ of the neighbouring
Barbarians of Talmis, the Blemmyes, expressed the desire to meet him. They were
attracted by his reputation. They took me, he said, as far as Talmis, so that I could
explore even those regions which are five days from Philae, as far as a town called
Prima which formerly was the first city of Thebaid on the Barbarian side. For this
reason, the Romans called it ‘Prima’ in Latin, that is to say the first; even now, the city
keeps that name, although it has long been owned by the Barbarians with four other
cities: Phoinikon, Chiris, Thapis and Talmis”.33 Thapis (Ṭafā) and Talmis (Kalabša) are
located to the south, beyond Philae. Prima was identified with Primis (Qaṣr Ibrīm),34 but
recently, the editors of the Fontes Historiae Nubiorum preferred to identify another city,
further north Cortia (Qurta), as the first Roman settlement when entering the
Dodecaschoenus.35 But Phoinikon, now al-Laqayta, is situated, on the other hand, on the
road to Myos Hormos at the junction of the road leading to Berenike (Fig. 2). The site of
Chiris has not yet been located, although it may have been on the road to Myos Hormos
(without any convincing argument). The Blemmyes would, therefore, have occupied
very advanced positions in the north. As this series of places are located in the
southern part of Egypt, it seems surprising that at least one toponym concerns a
northern place (especially as Phoinikon is a toponym rather unspecific since it means
“palm plantation”). D. Meredith does not accept that the Phoinikon of Olympiodorus is
Laqayta36 while J. Desanges identifies it with the latter.37 Note that a later text confirms
that the Blemmyes were at Coptos: a passage from the Martyrium Arethae and sociorum
(Acta Sanctorum, Oct. X, 743 p. 743)38 indicates that Justin 1 st (518-527) asked Timothy,
bishop of Alexandria, to push the king of Ethiopia Elesbaas to declare war on the
threatening Homerites (Ḥimyarites) and to eliminate them: “His piety (= the bishop of
Alexandria) wrote to King Elesbaas, who loves Christ, in these words: ‘(…) If thy
holiness hesitates to do so, God, from heaven, will be angry with him and his kingdom,
while we shall send from Coptos and Berenike a great army of Blemmyes and Noubades,
and our contingents, making their way through your territory, will destroy everything
and precipitate the Homerite and his country in the most complete annihilation and
anathema’”.39 This text also shows that Byzantine power used the Blemmyes and the
Noubades probably as part of the foederati system.
11 From the second half of the 5th and especially during the 6 th century the Blemmyes
become less visible in our sources: they settled at Gebelein according to a batch of
papyri from the early 6th century,40 but they are no longer attested as looting tribes (if
not in the form of a rhetorical topos in documentary and literary texts).41 It seems that
the organization of the Noubades in Lower Nubia in the second half of the 5th century
caused the marginalization of the Blemmyes and, thus, their omission from our
sources.42
12 The Blemmyes appear in the sources not only as a potential danger to be neutralized,
but also as a population involved into economic activities specific to this region as we
will see.
3. Exploitation of natural resources

13 Since the Pharaonic period, the vast mountain areas of the Eastern Desert have been
known for their natural resources, mainly minerals, and have been the object of
668
continuous exploitation since that time. There were some novelties during late
antiquity.
14 The sources return several times to the extraction of emeralds in the Ğabal Zabara,
called the Smaragdus / ἡ Σμάραγδος (Fig. 5).43 During late antiquity, the Blemmyes took
possession of the Smaragdus, probably after the Roman withdrawal, under Diocletian if
we follow Desanges’ view.44 According to Epiphanius of Salamis in his De Gemmis XII
(19-21) written around AD 394 “the [Blemmyes] exploit the mines [= the Smaragdus]
and there are other mines in the barbarian territory of the Blemmyes; they are located
in the mountains near Talmis where the barbarians are now digging to extract
emeralds”.45 This text brings a new fact: that of the presence of other emerald mines
near Talmis, unless the Bishop of Salamis is mistaken. Commentators usually think that
Epiphanius conflated these mines near Talmis with those of Smaragdus. I would be
inclined to follow Hélène Cuvigny46 who wonders if the text of Epiphanius does not
rather reflect a confusion with the St. John Island which was the richest source of
peridots in the ancient world. These peridots, which were called topaz by the ancients,
were extracted from the Βάζιον, later called by the Crusaders the Island of St. John and
now Zabarǧad, southwest of Ra’s Banās (Fig. 6).47 It is, therefore, possible that
Epiphanius might have conflated the places because the greenish reflections of this
stone (Fig. 7) might be confused with emeralds (hence the name of “émeraudes du soir”
given in French to this stone) and because this island has the characteristics of a
mountain. Moreover, as Hélène Cuvigny remarked, when the explorer Bruce asked to
visit the Smaragdus, he was taken to the Island of St. John. If this explanation is correct,
we could conclude from Epiphanius’ text that, in addition to the emeralds of
Smaragdus, the Blemmyes also exploited the peridots of Topazos island. In the
following century, Olympiodorus, in the account of his stay with the Blemmyes
reported by Photius confirms that the Blemmyes exploited emeralds. In the 6th century
Cosmas Indicopleustes tells us in his Christian Topography (XI 21) that the Blemmyes
provided the ”Ethiopians“ (= Nubians) emeralds for the trade with India;48 we can trust
Cosmas, who was not only Egyptian but was himself a merchant.
Fig. 5
Mines of the Smaragdus.

Fig. 6
669
Saint John island called nowadays Zabarǧad.

© K. Aleš
Fig. 7
Peridot
© P. Gery, Wikimedia Commons
15 Another major centre resource exploitation in the Eastern Desert was Mons
Porphyrites (Ğabal Abū Duḫān) (Fig. 2 and 8).49 Exploitation of the porphyry quarries
peaked precisely in the 4th century because of the enthusiasm for this stone by the
protobyzantine emperors. The dedicatory inscription of the Church of Melitios reflects
this increasing activity since it recalled the restoration of this building by the eparchikos
(the head of the quarrymen) and the local workers.50 The excavations carried out at
Mons Porphyrites by David Peacock and Valerie Maxfield in the 1990s have greatly
improved our knowledge of this quarry. I will not insist on referring you to their work,
especially as Valerie Maxfield has already reported on this topic during the conference.
Fig. 8
670
Porphyrites.
16 Another novelty in this area during late antiquity was the exploitation of gold at Bi’r
Umm Fawāḫir on the Coptos-Myos Hormos route (Fig. 2 and 9). Excavations by Carol
Meyer and the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago revealed that mining
operations restarted during the 5th century on a site previously abandoned; they were
carried on during the 6th century.51 Bi’r Umm Fawāḫir was of great interest for the
Byzantine state, which was always seeking gold, especially in the 6th century It
experienced gold supply problems aggravated by Justinian's reconquest policy at a time
when the pressure from the Barbarians was hindering the exploitation of the Balkan
mines –the other region mined at the time for its gold deposits. It is probably not a
coincidence that precisely in the 6th century, in the days of Justinian, the miners'
village at Bi’r Umm Fawāḫir reached its maximum extent with 250 houses and about a
thousand residents (Fig. 9). It is the reason why I hypothesized that mining revival
should be linked with the change of the name of the nearest city, Coptos.52 We know by
Georges of Cyprus’ Description (772) that Coptos was also called Justinianopolis: Κοντὼ
(l. Κοπτὼ) ἤτοι Ἰουστινιανούπολις “Coptos or Justinianopolis”.53 It may seem surprising
that this information is not found anywhere else, not even in the papyri. The silence of
the papyrological documentation could be due to the scarcity of the Greek papyri
referencing Coptos after the 5th century54 and because the traditional name continued
to compete with the new imperial one, as in other cases of imperial eponymy.55 It is,
therefore, probable that the name Justinianopolis, promoted by the authorities, was not
currently used or that it soon fell into disuse in favour of the traditional name of
Coptos. George of Cyprus mentions Justinianopolis precisely because its description is
based on official records. It is tempting to think that Justinian wanted to distinguish
Coptos by giving his name because this city was sending gold and prospered from the
intense activity of the Bi’r Umm Fawāḫir mining site. I am aware, however, of the
uncertain character of this hypothesis, until now unverifiable.
Fig. 9
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The miners’ village of Bi'r Umm Fawāḫir during the excavations

conducted by Carol Meyer in 1999.
© H. Cowherd
17 I would like to conclude by saying that the Eastern Desert has experienced research
activities so far unmatched for the last thirty years –as this conference testifies– and
their results have improved our knowledge of this region. Investigations recently
carried out or now under way as well as future publications will continue to improve
our knowledge. I therefore hope that my presentation will be obsolete as soon as
possible!
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Sidebotham S.E., Zitterkopf R.E. and Riley J.A. 1991. “Survey of the 'Abu Sha'ar-Nile
Road”. American Journal of Archaeology 95, pp. 571-622.
Timm St. 1984-1985. Das christlich-koptische Ägypten in arabischer Zeit. Eine Sammlung
christlicher Stätten in Ägypten in arabischer Zeit, unter Ausschluss von Alexandria, Kairo, des
Apa-Mena-Klosters (Der Abu Mina), der Sketis (Wādī n-Natrun) und der Sinai-Region. Beihefte
zum Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients, Reihe B 41, II. Wiesbaden; III. Wiesbaden.
Wipszycka E. 2009. Moines et communautés monastiques en Égypte (IVe-VIIIe siècles). The
Journal of Juristic Papyrology Supplements 40, Warsaw.
FOOTNOTES
1. See the classic study of H. Cadell & R. Rémondon, 1967.
2. Καὶ οὕτω λοιπὸν γέγονε καὶ ἐν τοῖς ὄρεσι μοναστήρια, καὶ ἡ ἔρημος ἐπολίσθη μοναχῶν,
ἐξελθόντων ἀπὸ τῶν ἰδίων καὶ ἀπογραψαμένων τὴν ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς πολιτείαν, ed. G.J.M.
Bartelink (Sources chrétiennes 400, Paris 2004).
3. Ὅσοι γὰρ ἐνταῦθα λαοί, τοσοῦτοι ἐν ταῖς ἐρήμοις μοναχοί, ed. A.-J. Festugière, Bruxelles
1961.
674
4. The available sources on these two monasteries were gathered by Timm, 1987, pp. 1287-1330
("Kloster des Apa Antonius") and pp. 1359-1373 ("Kloster des Apa Paulus (I)"). For an overview on
these two monasteries, cf. Meinardus 1965, pp. 349-363, 1989, pp. 5-47 and 1991a and b.
5. On the location of Pispir, see Wipszycka 2009, pp. 258-261.
6. Sulpicius Severus, Gallus. Dialogues sur les “Vertus” de saint Martin , ed. J. Fontaine (Sources
chrétiennes 510, Paris 2006), pp. 168-170: Duo beati Antoni monasteria adii, quae hodieque ab eius
discipulis incoluntur. Ad eum etiam locum in quo beatissimus Paulus primus eremita est deuersatus
accessi.
7. Trois vies de moines, A. de Vogüé, E. Martín Morales, P. Leclerc (ed.), Sources chrétiennes 508,
Paris 2007, pp. 157-159: Sed ut ad it redeam unde digressus sum, cum iam centesimo tertio decimo aetatis
suae anno beatus Paulus coelestrem uitam ageret in terries, et nonagenarius in alia solitudine Antonius
moraretur, ut ipse adserere solebat, haec in mentem eius cogitation incidit, nullum ultra se monachorum in
eremo consedisse. Atque illi per noctem quiescenti reuelatum est, esse alium interius multo se meliorem, ad
quem uisendum properare deberet.
8. See Wipszycka 2009, pp. 22 and 198-199.
9. Ed. C. Milani, Itinerarium Antonini Placentini. Un viaggio in Terra Santa dal 560-570 d.C., Milan 1977,
p. 222: 43.1 Exinde venimus per heremum ad speluncam Pauli, hoc est syracumba, qui fons usque actenus
rigat. 2. Exinde iterum per heremum venimus ad cataractas Nili; ubi ascendit aqua ad signum (recensio
prior of the Rhenaugiensis [nunc Turicensis] 73).
10. See, among others, Coquin & Martin 1991.
11. See Timm 1984, pp. 569-572.
12. Op. cit., pp. 569-570.
13. Martin 1965-1966.
14. About this toponym, see below.
15. Wipszycka 2009, pp. 200-206.
16. For Mons Porphyrites, see Sidebotham, Zitterkopf and Riley 1991, p. 576; Maxfield and
Peacock 2001, p. 6. Not far from this site, see also Wādī Nagat: Murray 1955; Sidebotham,
Zitterkopf and Riley 1991, pp. 583-584. Close to Mons Claudianus, see Peacock 1997. See also
Sidebotham, Barnard and Pyke 2002 (even if the monastic nature of these sites is far from being
sure; see pp. 223-225).
17. Apophthegmata patrum (collectio alphabetica), Apa Sisoês, 21 (= PG LXV, col. 401, 38).
18. Pierce 2012.
19. On the hellenocentrism, see my lectures at the Collège de France 3rd and 10 th February 2016
(http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-luc-fournet/course-2016-02-03-11h00.htm and
http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/jean-luc-fournet/course-2016-02-10-11h00.htm).
20. See the already famous “amphore of the barbarians” found at Krokodilô and published by
H. Cuvigny in O.Krok. I n° 87.
21. Power, 2011 and 2012.
22. Apud has gentes, quarum exordiens initium ab Assyriis ad Nili cataractas porrigitur et confinia
Blemmyarum, omnes pari sorte sunt bellatores seminudi coloratis sagulis pube tenus amicti, equorum
adiumento pernicium graciliumque camelorum per diversa se raptantes, in tranquillis vel turbidis rebus.
23. Egeria, Journal de voyage (Itinéraire), VII 1-IX 7, ed. P. Maraval, Sources chrétiennes 296, Paris
1982.
24. Bagnall and Sheridan 1994.
25. SB XX 15481.
26. SB XX 15482.
27. Power 2012, pp. 286-287.
28. Scholia in Theocritum vetera (ed. K. Wendel, Leipzig 1914): VII 114a, line 2: Βλέμυες ἔθνος
Αἰθιοπικὸν μελανόχρουν·οἱ αὐτοὶ δὲ τοῖς Τρωγλοδύταις. For the study of these ethnics, cf. Pierce
2012.
675
29. Cf. Pierce 2012.

30. The sources are conveniently collected and discussed in Ide, Hägg, Pierce and Török 1998
(= FHN III). Among the recent literature, see: Dijkstra 2012; see also: Power 2011 and Pierce 2012.
From an archaeological point of view, see: Lassányi 2011; Barnard 2007.
31. = FHN III 328.
32. = FHN III 309.
33. Ὅτι ὁ ἱστορικός φησι διάγοντος αὐτοῦ κατὰ τὰς Θήβας καὶ τὴν Σοήνην ἱστορίας ἕνεκα, ἐν
ἐπιθυμίᾳ γενέσθαι τοὺς φυλάρχους καὶ προφήτας τῶν κατὰ τὴν Τάλμιν βαρβάρων, ἤτοι τῶν
Βλεμμύων, τῆς ἐντυχίας αὐτοῦ· ἐκίνει γὰρ αὐτοὺς ἐπὶ τοῦτο ἡ φήμη. Καὶ ἔλαβόν με, φησί, μέχρι
αὐτῆς τῆς Τάλμεως, ὥστε κἀκείνους τοὺς χώρους ἱστορῆσαι διέχοντας ἀπὸ τῶν Φιλῶν διάστημα
ἡμερῶν πέντε, μέχρι πόλεως τῆς λεγομένης Πρῖμα, ἥτις τὸ παλαιὸν πρώτη πόλις τῆς Θηβαΐδος
ἀπὸ τοῦ βαρβαρικοῦ ἐτύγχανε· διὸ παρὰ τῶν Ῥωμαίων ῥωμαίᾳ φωνῇ Πρῖμα ἤτοι πρώτη
ὠνομάσθη, καὶ νῦν οὕτω καλεῖται καίτοι ἐκ πολλοῦ οἰκειωθεῖσα τοῖς βαρβάροις μεθ’ ἑτέρων
τεσσάρων πόλεων, Φοινικῶνος, Χίριδος, Θάπιδος, Τάλμιδος, ed. R. Henry (CUF 1959).
34. Cf. Desanges 1978, p. 340.
35. FHN III, p. 1128.
36. Meredith 1953, p. 105.
37. Cf. Desanges 1978, p. 350, n. 263.
38. = FHN III 327.
39. Γεγράφηκε δὲ καὶ ἡ αὐτοῦ εὐσέβεια τῷ φιλοχρίστῳ βασιλεῖ Ἐλεσβαᾷ τάδε· “(...) Εἰ γὰρ
τοῦτο ὀκνήσει ποιῆσαι ἡ σὴ ὁσιότης, οὐρανόθεν μὲν ὀργίζεται αὐτῇ ὁ Θεὸς καὶ τῇ αὐτῆς
πολιτείᾳ· ἡμεῖς δὲ διὰ Κόπτου καὶ Βερονίκης τῶν λεγομένων Βλεμμύων καὶ Νοβάδων πλῆθος
στρατευμάτων ἐκπέμψαντες, παρόδῳ χρησάμενα τὰ στρατόπεδα ἡμῶν διὰ τῆς γῆς σου, πᾶσαν
συντρίψωσι, τὸν δὲ Ὁμηρίτην καὶ τὴν χώραν αὐτοῦ εἰς τέλειον ἀφανισμὸν καὶ ἀνάθεμα
καταστήσωσιν”.
40. FHN III 331-343 (with extended bibliography).
41. Cf. Fournet 1999, p. 511.
42. Dijkstra 2012, p. 247.
43. On the ancient names and the impropriety of the modern form Mons Smaragdus, cf.
H. Cuvigny, “La toponymie du désert Oriental sous le Haut-Empire d’après les ostraca et les
inscriptions” (in this volume). See also Sidebotham, Nouwens, Hense and Harrell 2004.
44. Desanges 1984, p. 257.
45. “Corruerunt autem montis huius metalla suntque metalla alia in ipsorum barbarie
Blemyorum iuxta Telmeos in montibus constituta, quae nunc effodientes barbari smaragdos
incident”, ed. O. Günther 1898 (Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 35, 2) = FHN III
305.
46. Cf. Cuvigny 2003, 2nd ed. 2006, II, p. 348, n. 143.
47. See : Cuvigny 2018; Harrell 2014, pp. 16-30; Harrell and Bloxam 2010, pp. 18-22.
48. Οὗτοι καὶ τὸν σμάραγδον λίθον ἀγαπῶσι καὶ εἰς τὸν στέφανον αὐτῶν φοροῦσιν. Εἰσφέρουσι
γὰρ οἱ Αἰθίοπες συναλλαγὰς ποιοῦντες μετὰ τῶν Βλεμμύων ἐν τῇ Αἰθιοπίᾳ τὸν αὐτὸν λίθον ἕως
εἰς τὴν Ἰνδίαν· καὶ αὐτοὶ τὰ καλλιστεύοντα ἀγοράζουσι, éd. W. Wolska-Conus (Sources
chrétiennes 197, Paris 1973).
49. Cuvigny 2018, showed that the Latin form Mons Porphyritès and its Greek equivalent
Πορφυρίτης Ὄρος are incorrect and that the correct forms (those used in the papyri and
inscriptions) were: Porphyritès / Πορφυρίτης.
50. SB V 8162 = SEG XIII 604.
51. Meyer 1995, pp. 192-224. For more information, see: Meyer, Heidorn, Kaegi and Wilfong 2000;
Meyer 2011; 2014.
52. Fournet 2002, pp. 57-60, which I resume here the conclusions.
676
53. Honigmann 1939, p. 61.

54. To the two or three examples I mentioned in 2002 (see Fournet 2002, p. 57, n. 34), now add
four ostraka from Aphrodité (SB XX 14559, 4; 14563, 6; 14564, 4; 14568, 4-5 [6th century]).
55. See, for example, the case of d’Apollinopolis Parva/Dioclêtianopolis: the traditional name is
more used from the 4th century than the imperial name (cf. Fournet 2002, p. 55, n. 29).
AUTHOR
Jean-Luc Fournet
Professor at Collège de France, Chair of “Written Culture in Late Antiquity and
Byzantine Papyrology”, UMR 8167

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Collège de France

The Eastern Desert of Egypt during the Greco-

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JEAN-PIERRE BRUN (ED.)

THOMAS FAUCHER (ED.)

BÉRANGÈRE REDON (ED.)

STEVEN SIDEBOTHAM (ED.)

Coptos, Gate to the Eastern Desert

Ptolemaic Gold: the Exploitation of Gold in the Eastern Desert

The Fortlets of the Eastern Desert of Egypt

Quarries with Subtitles

Some Topographical Problems around Myos Hormos: Philotera-Philoteris

Textile Contrasts at Berenike

Port of Myos Hormos and its Relations to Indo-Roman Trade

Overview of Fieldwork at Berenike 1994-2015

The Great Temple of Berenike

Berenike in Light of Inscriptions, Ostraca, and Papyri

Documentary and Literary News on Clysma

The Eastern Desert in Late Antiquity

Coptos, Gate to the Eastern Desert

A city connected to the desert and the Red Sea

The colossi of Min at the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.

The Hellenistic presence in Coptos

Chronological map of the religious center.

The oracular chapel of Cleopatra VII.

The Romans in Coptos

The beginnings of the Principate

The gate of Augustus, as reerected in 2016.

The northern colonnade.

Topographical map of the site.

Restitution of the eastern colonnade and of the statue dedicated by

Coptos in the second and third centuries AD

The Roman official building.

31 Transformations continued to occur within the precinct of Nectanebo. Southeast of the

The baptistery in 2015, view north-south.

Cuvigny H. 2003b. “Le fonctionnement du réseau”. In La route de Myos Hormos. L’armée

The Control of the Eastern Desert by

Human settlements and axes of circulation in the Eastern Desert during

Surveys and excavations of the French mission in

Remains of the Samut district excavated between 2014 and 2016.

© MAFDO, B. Redon, 2016, Bing Map base map

Samut North and gold mining in the Eastern Desert

General view of Building 1 of Samut North, from the west.

Interior of building 1 from the north-west.

Bi'r Samut and the development of the desert roads

General view of the fort of Bi'r Samut from the north.

Tank 15 viewed from the northwest.

Abandonment floor of room 45, with 33 loom weights on the floor.

View of Abu Garaish building 1.

Satellite view of some forts or fortified wells of the Ptolemaic road

Ptolemaic Gold: the Exploitation of

Geological, geographical and chronological context

4 In the Ptolemaic period, it is difficult to define a chronological framework that clearly

Kingdom period. The establishment of considerable resources by the Ptolemies enabled

The forms of exploitation of gold quartz in the Eastern

The production of gold

Phantom of the quartz vein.