Iron Age Communities in the Carpathian Basin, 2010, p.

A NEW FRAMEWORK FOR APPROACHING DACIAN IDENTITY The Burial Contribution1

Cătălin Nicolae POPA

PhD candidate, University of Cambridge, UK pcatalinn@yahoo.com

Keywords: La Tène, Romania, Dacians, burials, identity

Introduction The last two decades have witnessed an increased interest in the identity of Europe’s Iron Age inhabitants. A heated debate was launched especially over terms like ‘Celtic’ and ‘Celticity’. Many of the problems appear to have arisen after the Venice exhibition in 1991, entitled “The Celts, the origins of Europe”, which also led to the publication of a volume that integrated studies on the Celts from all the regions of the continent (MOSCATI 1991). Both the exhibition and the volume have been interpreted by some researchers, most of them coming from the British school of archaeology2, as an attempt to give historical foundation to the European Union by creating an artificial unity in the Late Iron Age. The debate became especially animated in the pages of the Antiquity journal, where COLLIS (1997) and JAMES (1998), on the one side, and Ruth and Vincent MEGAW (1996, 1998) on the other, argued against one another as to whether archaeologists should use terms like ‘Celtic’ or ‘Celticity’. While there is still no clear consensus, the researchers from France, where studies on the La Tène have an especially strong tradition, still use the terms freely (AUDOUZE 1992; BUCHSENSCHUTZ 2007; FICHTL 2000; KRUTA 2000)3 and, even in Britain, Hill’s and Collis’s ideas seem to have come heavily under attack in the last two years (DAVIS 2008; KARL 2008). I personally consider that there is enough evidence, coming from both the archaeological record and textual sources, to safely assume the existence of large groups of people that can be generally referred to using the word ‘Celtic’. Nevertheless I do not think that they necessarily regarded themselves as sharing the same ethnic identity. The Celts were not however, the only people inhabiting Europe in the Late Iron Age. Toward the east, living in the region which can be roughly defined as the Carpathian basin, one can find the Dacians or Getae. This region was not included in the debate about the unity of Europe in prehistory as studies on the identity and ethnicity of these people are virtually non-existent. This is the gap which I will try to fill through this paper: using the data from burials, I aim to produce conclusions on how the Dacian people perceived themselves and how they portrayed their image to others; and whether they emphasised ethnic, regional or local identity. In order to achieve my goal I have structured the paper in three main parts, enveloped by the current introduction and the final conclusions. The first part will deal with the past approaches to the Dacian burials, that have proven to be, as I will point out, quite unproductive; additionally I will give an outline of the current ideas on identity and its implementation in archaeology, ideas which I will be using in the paper. The second part will deal with the methodology which I consider to be appropriate for the interpretation of burials, much of it being based on the works of people like Parker Pearson and Lucy. On the other hand, I will argue that those

1 This paper represents the outcome of my MPhil studies at the University of Cambridge. 2 Especially through people like COLLIS (1996, 2003) or HILL (1995, 2006). 3 Even though there are people like DITLER (1994) who slightly contest the wide use of the term Celtic.

methods are not exactly the best way of approaching the Dacian burials as they need to be modified to a significant degree in order to produce the best results; the changes imply regarding the burials not just as the end result of a funerary ritual, but as accounting for more complex elements, which leads to a need to integrate them in the more general phenomena occurring in the Dacian world. The third part represents the implementation of the methodology on the actual body of data. I will analyse the burials globally, pointing out general patterns which are noticeable when examining the spatial or chronological distribution4, as well as discuss some of the artefacts occurring in the graves and draw some conclusions by broadly comparing the burials to one another. Additionally, I will examine in greater detail a number of burials from which I will attempt to extract the ideas about identity that are contained within them. Before moving on to the first of the three main parts, I consider it necessary however to give a short introduction about who actually were the Dacians, where and when they lived, and the broad ideas which circulate in traditional archaeological literature about them. Who were the Dacians? The Dacians, or better yet, the Getae, represent the northern branch of the Thracians that became visible archaeologically as a separate group of people after approximately the 8th century B.C. According to the ancient authors and, to a certain degree, the archaeological evidence, the region that they occupied is broadly delimited by: the Dniester (or Nistru) river to the east; the Tisza River to the west; the northern Carpathians to the north, and the Balkans to the south (GOSTAR–LICA 1984, 19) (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1. Maximum expansion of the Dacians.

4 These will be based in part on the remarks that I have made in my undergraduate dissertation (POPA

2008).

The first information that we have about them comes from Herodotus who mentions them in relation to the Persian king Darius’ expedition against the Scythians, as the Getae where the only people among the Thracians that did not surrender to his army and had to be defeated in battle. After this point we start having more mention of them, even though they only start to attract the actual interest of the ancient authors in the 1st century B.C., when many of the Getic tribes were united under a single rule by king Burebista who got involved in the civil war in Rome between Caesar and Pompey. Burebista’s state was split however in four and then five smaller kingdoms after his disappearance in approximately 44 B.C. only to be followed by Decebalus’s Dacian state, towards the end of the 1st century A.D. The last Dacian kingdom was defeated in two wars against the Romans, in 101–102 and 105–106, after which the Roman province of Dacia was established, the point which is used to mark the end of the Iron Age and start of the Classical period (PÂRVAN 1926; CRIŞAN 1977; GOSTAR–LICA 1984; VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987; CRIŞAN 1993) (Fig. 2).

This paper does not deal with the existence of the Dacians in the entire Iron Age. It aims only to discuss the situation during the so-called ‘classic Dacian civilisation’ which can be dated from the middle of the 2nd century B.C. to the Daco-Roman wars, corresponding to the La Tène C2–D (GLODARIU–IAROSLAVSCHI 1979; CRIŞAN 1993). Moreover, I will be focussing only on the area that can be regarded as the nucleus5 of the Dacian culture, which roughly corresponds to the territory of present day Romania6 (Figure 3, 4).

5 The definition of the nucleus of the Dacian civilisation by modern archaeologists (PÂRVAN 1926; CRIŞAN 1977; PETRE 2004) is based both on the ancient texts and on the massive concentration of material culture in the region. 6 This fact is in reality not that important as there are very few Dacian burials located outside Romania and also because after the 1st century B.C. the Roman Empire already starts to install itself on the right side of the lower Danube.

8th century B.C.

northern Thracian people

separate themselves

from southern Thracians

101–102; 105–106 A.D.

Darius’s expedition;

first mention of Getae

Roman-Dacian wars

514 B.C.

Lysimachus (Macedonian

basileus) defeated by Dromichetaes

(Getic ruler)

just after 300 B.C.

“incrementa Dacorum per Rubobosten

regem” (Trogus Pompeius)

2nd

century B.C.

Burebista’s kingdom

start of 1st century B.C.–

44 B.C.

Romans control the right side of

the Danube

second half of 1st century B.C.

first direct battle between the Dacian state and the Roman Empire; Decebalus

comes to power

87 A.D.

Celts enter and take control of

parts of Transilvania

first half of 3rd century

B.C.

Celts ‘disappear’ and Dacian power is

established in Transilvania

first half of 2nd century

B.C.

Fig. 2. Important events in the existence of the Dacians.

I consider that the issue of the name of these northern Thracians also needs clarifying. The first name, Getae, is the ethnonym that was employed by the Greek authors to name these people as far back as Herodotus, while the Latin writers, starting with Caesar in the 1st century B.C., preferred the term Dacian (FLOREA–SÎRBU 1997, 13). There are nevertheless problems figuring out if the Getae and the Dacians are the same people, as Strabo mentions that the Getae are the ones living towards the Black Sea and the east, while the Dacians occupy the western part, towards Germany and the source of the Danube (DANA 2007); he further writes that they spoke the same language7. Most authors have interpreted Strabo’s text as the Getae and Dacians being the same population, with only slight regional differences8 (VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987). The discussion gets much more complicated when one considers how the two names are used in the Romanian archaeological literature. In general the authors prefer to use the term Geto-Dacian, a modern invention as STROBERL (1998) accurately remarked, referring to an ethnic entity without any attempt at supporting evidence. Most of the artefacts are assigned an ethnic dimension and are interpreted as reflecting the presence of the Geto-Dacians in whatever context they are found (LOCKYEAR 2004). It is unlikely that the situation will change anytime in the future, even though there have been recent Romanian studies which have started to raise doubts about the idea of a great Geto-Dacian ethnic unity (SPÂNU 2002). In this paper I will use preferentially the term Dacian, but through it I only mean the northern Thracian people that roughly inhabited the territory of modern Romania9. Therefore the term is employed conventionally, without attaching any ethnical connotation, which allows me to avoid the risk of compromising my quest for identity.

I. Past approaches to Dacian burials I.1.Burials There are very few burials which can be attributed to the Dacians in the period that I am interested in. I have counted just about 50, an important number of which were only identified as such or discovered in the last 15 to 20 years. The mysterious

7 There have also been interesting studies on the origin of the name Dacian. The most widely accepted ideas is that proposed by ELIADE (1959) who considers that it comes from the Phrigian daos meaning wolf. This point of view has been contested however in the last decade (DANA 2000). 8 For a more thorough discussion on the employment of the term Getae and Dacian by the ancient authors see PETRE 2004 and STROBEL 1998. 9 Nonetheless I will also refer to other northern Thracian tribes, such as the Tribali or Moesi who lived south of the lower Danube (RUSTOIU 2002).

Fig. 3. Geographical map of Romania with important features marked.

Fig. 4. The regions of Romania.

phenomenon, that led to the ‘disappearance’ of the graves, and which affects a large area of Central and South-East Europe (SPÂNU 2002, 103), has been linked to a radical change in religious beliefs. While it is only possible to speculate about a funerary rite that leaves no archaeological traces, it seems likely that the Dacians practised either exposure (SÎRBU 1993) or cremation, with the remains scattered in fields or in rivers (VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987, 80).

Consequently, most authors just ignore the few burials that have been dated to the Late La Tène, choosing instead to state the obvious, that we are uncertain of how the Dacians dealt with their dead (CRIŞAN 1977; GOSTAR–LICA 1984; VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987). When one starts browsing through the Romanian archaeological journals it is possible to observe however occasional articles on Dacian burials, but the large majority of them represent only the publication of the archaeological material that was found in one grave, sometimes followed by a short and inconclusive discussion (CIUGUDEAN–CIUGUDEAN 1993; CRIŞAN 1980; MOGA 1982; VULPE 1976)10. Besides the previously mentioned studies, there are also some volumes that do in fact give attention to the funerary discoveries. These are usually studies that aim at presenting all the aspects of the Dacian civilisation from one particular region (COSTEA 2002; GHEORGHIU 2005; TURCU 1979). While they contain lists with the graves that have been identified in that area, with the inventory and the most probable dating being mentioned, they are never followed by an actual analysis of those discoveries or by their integration into other aspects of Dacian society.

Finally there are two volumes which deal specifically with the funerary discoveries from Romania in the Late Iron Age. The first one was written by PROTASE (1971) and is aimed at listing all the Dacian burials dated both before and after the Roman conquest. While the author’s effort is laudable, the volume contains a very large number of finds which either cannot be verified, due to the lack of accurate publication, or do not actually have to do with the funerary phenomenon (e.g. the case of the pits from Moigrad). Hence the study suffers from a lack of proper research on the nature of those discoveries, which unfortunately makes it virtually useless in most cases.

SÎRBU’s (1993) work however does not suffer from the same problem. The author has done an excellent job at bringing together all the finds that relate to the Dacian funerary record and which can be validated. Moreover, he has integrated these into a larger discussion on ritual practices, thus including the human sacrifices or the finds of human bones in non-funerary contexts, and expanded the area of research by also presenting the finds coming from cultural groups with an important Germanic or Celtic influence (the Daco-Scordisc group from Oltenia, and the Lipiţa group from northern Moldova). Even though the study is becoming outdated because of the finds that have been brought to light since its publication, Sîrbu has continued to publish good quality articles and volumes in which new discoveries are published and integrated within the larger body of data (SÎRBU ET AL. 1999; SÎRBU 2006a; SÎRBU

2006b; SÎRBU ET AL. 2007; SÎRBU–ARSENESCU 2006). Additionally, he has published a volume which aims at creating a common terminology when examining Dacian burials (SÎRBU 2003), and which I am employing in the current paper. Despite the impressive studies that he is producing, I think there are two major issues with his work. Firstly, even though Sîrbu acknowledges that these burials are not representative of the way the Dacians dealt with their dead, he unfortunately treats 10 I must admit however that there are a couple of articles in which there is an attempt to fit the discovery into the more general Dacian funerary phenomenon or some that attempt to integrate the mortuary practices into their a larger context (BABEŞ 1988; RUSTOIU ET AL. 2001; SPÂNU 2002).

them as such. He uses them as just any other database on burials, inferring from them the social position of the deceased and the meaning behind the funerary inventory, forgetting the special character of the burials. Additionally there is also the problem inherent in almost all Romanian archaeology that all the interpretations are made with the belief that the Dacians (Geto-Dacians) are regarded as forming a unitary ethnic group11.

In brief, the burials from the territory of Romania dated to the Late La Tène have been usually given little or no attention at all. What is more, the few studies that have actually attempt to create a list with all the funerary finds have either been done in a totally unsatisfactory manner, or been marked by preconceived ideas.

I.2.Identity Identity can be defined as the essence of who the individual is, or who the group is in relation to larger social contexts; it defines what is unique about the individual and about the group (WELLS 1998, 242). Closely related to it, and usually employed together, are the terms ethnicity and ethnic identity, which represents the aspect of a person’s self-conceptualization which results from identification with a broader group in opposition to others on the basis of perceived cultural differentiation and/or common descent (JONES 1997).

The fields of archaeology and anthropology have employed the term identity on a regular basis. Its use throughout the twentieth century has varied considerably, and this variation can be linked to the three theoretical schools of archaeology: culture-historian, processualist and post-processualist (TRIGGER 2006).

In the culture-historian period, while there were usually no works that dealt directly with identity and ethnicity, the concepts were employed extensively in archaeological studies. The general idea was that archaeological cultures corresponded to ethnically distinct groups of people, leading to the image of a prehistoric landscape populated by monolithic cultural entities that gradually evolved in time. The two main authors who introduced and developed these concepts were Kossina and Childe (JONES 1997)12.

As the ideas about archaeological cultures changed due to the attacks of BINFORD (1962; 1968), so did the perspectives on identity. BARTH (1969) introduced an entirely new way of thinking about ethnicity, which has been named “the instrumentalist theoretical approach” (JONES 1996; GRAVES-BROWN–JONES 1996; JONES 1997). The two main concepts that he introduced where that ethnic identities are formed and exist through the active maintenance of boundaries, and that individuals continually shift their identities so as to best suit their economic and social interests13. Barth’s ideas were, and still are, highly influential and there are hardly any studies on identity nowadays which do not quote his work. Actually, the ‘instrumentalist view’ is still popular and in use today (WELLS 1998; COHEN 2000; WELLS 2007), even though slight adjustments have been made to the initial concepts (BARTH 2000).

11 The ethnic character of the artifacts appears unquestioned. Moreover, there is even a subtle feel in his works that he is somehow trying to justify the true character of the Geto-Dacian ethnicity. 12 The Eastern European schools remain very much tributary to this approach. Hence, in their view, the essence of the ethnos is constituted by very real cultural and linguistic components which comprise the ‘inner integrity’ of a group’s identity (GRAVES-BROWN–JONES 1996). 13 It should be added that within the ‘instrumentalist school’ the direct relationship between material culture and ethnicity is questioned to a certain degree, but not denied.

With the birth of post-processualism and the rise of ideas about the subjectivity and relativity of archaeological knowledge, new ways of thinking about identity were also introduced. The end result is that there appears to be no clear-cut way of getting to ethnicity through archaeology, each author choosing to build their own framework in their studies. The general trend is however to use BOURDIEU’s (1977) theory of practice by linking the formation and expression of identity to the habitus (JONES 1996; JONES 1997; JONES 1999; HAKENBECK 2004; BABIĆ 2006; DÍAZ-ANDREU 2006). Thus identity is built using the same principles that are active within the habitus, and just like them, is constructed and reinforced through everyday practice. Furthermore, since material culture shapes and is itself shaped by the same governing principles, and at the same time represents one of the means through which identity is manifested, it is possible to study the ethnicity of past people by examining the overlapping patterns that result from the archaeological record14. The general rule is that all these elements vary from one context to the other, as the expression of identity is modified according to the social principles which are active in that particular situation. There is however a problem linked to the construction of ethnicity which has not been given an answer yet and that has led to the splitting into two groups of the researchers. Most authors consider that the formation of an ethnic identity is a subjective phenomenon, that it is built on the similarities that one has with the other members of a group (JONES 1996; GRAVES-BROWN 1996; JONES 1999; SHENNAN 1989; LUCY 2006). In contrast, partly inheriting the ideas of the ‘instrumentalist theory’, some think that it is the product of the marking of difference and exclusion, rather than the sign of an identical, naturally-constituted unity (HALL

1996). Whatever the answer might be, it is quite clear that when working with ethnicity one needs to bear in mind that identity markers signal both sameness and difference at the same time.

All in all, the subject of identity appears to have given rise to important polemics that will probably remain unsolved indefinitely. In the mean time however, one should not hold back from approaching ethnicity; it is just necessary to leave aside any preconceived ideas that one might have about the topic and take into account all the elements that previous authors have signalled.

II. Approaching the Dacian burials I aim in this part to construct the methodology that I believe represents the best way to approach the Dacian burials. To achieve my goal, I will depart from the existing literature on funerary rituals and adapt those ideas so that they can be utilised in this particular case. I will thus describe the general context of the Dacian funerary discoveries so that their unique character can be understood, leading to the need for a unique approach. It should be noted also that the ultimate objective is to get a model that can give as much information as possible about identity. This can mean that some alternative implications, such as those relating to some specific religious practices, may be at some points intentionally overlooked. II.1. Interpreting burials The archaeology of burials is a very distinct form of archaeology having its own rules that one should constantly be aware of. It is important to remember that 14 The fundamental problem in accessing ethnicity purely through material culture is that objects can no longer be considered simple ethnic signifiers, but they can have ethnic significance; however this significance exists only within a known and communicable frame of reference (HAKENBECK 2004b, 3).

death, along with birth or marriage, represents one of the major events in the existence of a person. Death is a moment when our attitudes to the body are presented most clearly and prominently, often in ways which are very different to body treatment in everyday life (PARKER PEARSON 1999a, 58). Therefore, even though it may occur on a relatively regular basis in a community, the passing of each individual is given great attention. The burials are the result of a very elaborate ritual that starts with the death of the individual and ends with the placing of the body, or of the cremated remains, in the ground; sometimes the ritual may continue for some time afterwards. The provision of a final resting place for someone’s mortal remains is generally a carefully thought through procedure which may have taken, months or even years to plan and execute, making the burial a deeply significant act imbued with meaning (PARKER PEARSON 1999b, 5). Thus the funerary ritual is a highly structured event when people are expected to know how to behave; a specific range of resources, for instance, phrases, bodily movements, and material symbols, are expected to be mobilised in ways appropriate to each group of individuals taking part in a funeral (MIZOGUCHI 1992, 40).

Various meanings linked to different aspects of the deceased’s existence, like rank, social condition, occupation, age, gender, ethnicity etc, may be suggested during the funerary ceremony. All, some, or none of these may be singled out through the type of funerary rite (inhumation/cremation), the position of the body (or the way the cremated remains are placed), the type of grave (flat/tumular), the position of the grave (isolate/in a cemetery; central/marginal), the funerary inventory and the position of the grave goods to the deceased’s body/remains and to one-another, the food offerings15, and the list could go on. For instance, in a very rudimentary interpretation, the placing of weapons within a grave is highly likely to signal the martial prowess of the deceased.

But burials tell a much more complicated and elaborated story than just who the deceased had been in life; this is because funerary rites are actually much more about the living than they are about the dead (MIZOGUCHI 1992). For some time it was believed by archaeologists that the form and structure which characterised the mortuary practices of any society were conditioned by the form and the complexity of the organisational characteristics of the society itself; changes or variability in either form or structure had to take into account the limiting or determining effects exerted on these practices by the nature of the organisational properties of the society (BINFORD 1971, 23). These ideas have been however proven to be inexact and argued against by people like PARKER PEARSON (1999a). Nevertheless, the observation that funerary rituals belong to a large extent to the domain of the living, and hence give much information on the nature of societies, still holds and to get access to those particular meanings it was necessary for archaeologists to put forward a very important idea: the dead do not bury themselves; they are treated and disposed of by the living. (PARKER PEARSON 1999a; PARKER PEARSON 1999b; LUCY 1992; LUCY 2002). It is the community that decides the dressing of the deceased, the objects that should accompany them in their grave and how they are placed; they are the ones that participate in the feasts, fasts or food offerings that are triggered by a death and which lead to the placing of food and drink in a grave (PARKER PEARSON 1999b, 7–11). In

15 PARKER PEARSON (1999a) has shown for example that a commonly used mark of social differentiation throughout the British Iron Age may have been the totemic significance of the pig as a high-status feasting food; thus the placing of meat offerings coming from these animals in graves was a clear sign of the social position of that individual.

the end, it is to them that all the messages put forward in the funerary rituals are addressed to; they must be the ones to receive and understand them, not the dead!

Therefore one needs to understand mortuary rituals as the natural response of the community to the loss of one of its members; they are not a reflection of an individual’s life but of the impact of their death16 (HAKENBECK 2004a, 41), organised by and aimed towards the living. As a result, what we get in burials is not a reflection of the deceased’s life but an image that is constructed by the community with the occasion of his/her death. What

is more, it does not even need to be a reflection of how that individual was perceived by the community; it is just the end result of what the community considered to be the proper way of saying goodbye to its member in a particular circumstance (MCCARTHY 2004) (Fig. 5).

I think that the best way to understand burials is to see them as the result of a theatrical play. The plot of the play is simple: the death of a member a group. The scene, which is of course carefully chosen and constructed, is represented by the locations where the different ritual activities take place, including the actual laying in the ground of the mortuary remains. The actors are the other members of the group and/or the different social groups that exist within that community. The viewers are also the members of the group plus other adjacent communities, because if we assume that funerals were public events then we can imagine members from each of the burial communities taking part in the funerals of the other community (HAKENBECK 2004a, 52). The message that is transmitted through the play is entirely in the hands of the actors themselves: they may chose to portray the individual just as he/she was (or better yet was perceived) in real life; they may however opt to portray him/her as just any other individual of that group even though the deceased had been one of the wealthier members or was actually a foreigner which came into the group some time before and retained much of their original identity; or they may very well prefer to emphasise the military attributes despite the deceased having only limited or no combat experience at all. Also, we have to assume that the message of the play usually has a specific target audience and that it is not necessarily perceived in a similar manner by different viewers. For instance, the placing of a sica (i.e. curved knife, specific of the Dacian area) could be understood by some as declaring martial prowess, while others could translate it as suggesting the belonging of the deceased to a particular social group; both interpretations may very well be true.

A question that naturally arises in such a scenario is why would a community choose to twist reality in such a way? Why would they present a rich man/woman as being ordinary or a child or adolescent as a military hero? The answers are unfortunately as many as there are opinions within the post-processualist school, and most of them might be true; it is all very much dependent on the individual context.

16 From an evolutionary perspective, death is part of the environment to which the human animal needed to adapt. Consequently the mortuary ritual is viewed as the human’s adaptive response to death, with ritual language singled out as its crucial form of response (DAVIES 1997, 1).

Fig. 5. The three ‘images’ of the deceased.

For example, let us take the case when the settlement evidence suggests wealth being accumulated by a restricted group of individuals, while the burials show the image of an egalitarian society. From a Marxist point of view the situation would be perfectly clear: the social group which is accumulating wealth and thus rising to power is not yet strong enough so as to feel safe to display fully their status, as the rest of the community members might react against them; thereby they willingly distort the funerary ideology and portray an idealised image in the mortuary rituals in which all the individuals are shown as being equal. Thus the funerary ‘play’ is manipulated so that it suits the goals of certain groups of people who have it in their best interest for a particular message to be transmitted (PARKER PEARSON 1982; LULL 2000). There are of course other possible narratives. The funerary rituals might be fixed by a set of very strict religious beliefs, which may very well have been adopted before wealth started being accumulated by some members. These beliefs could have stated that no grave goods, or just some particular kinds, were allowed to be deposited with the deceased (thus allowing only limited variability) and that burials could only be constructed in a particular manner. In this case the entire community would participate in order to distort the message, but not with the intention of depicting an ideal society but to portray the ideas that the group shared about the afterlife. One more possibility is that there was no manipulation of the funerary ritual at all; the burials showed the image of an egalitarian society because those people may have well been like that. The wealthy members of society may have chosen to differentiate themselves in such a clear manner in death that they built their final resting place in a different area that may be quite far away from the community from which they came, making it difficult for archaeologists to make a link between the two.

What I have hoped to demonstrate through this example, and the discussion that lead to it, is that one should never consider burials as just a reflection of who the deceased was and of the society of which he/she was part of. Burials are always the result of the decisions made by the people who organise the funerary rituals (i.e. the mourners) and thus represent deliberate constructions which may be anchored in reality to a greater or lesser degree. While I have not referred to identity directly, because it constitutes in all cases one of the messages that is transmitted in the ‘enactment’ of the funerary ritual, it is only natural that it follows the same rules. Consequently it seems reasonable for the same theoretical assumptions to be used in my enquiry into Dacian identity. Unfortunately the model might not entirely fit in this particular case and I intend to show why.

II.2. Going beyond burials The funerary finds from Romania dated in the La Tène C2–D may appear at first glance to cover a range of recognised burial practices: cremations17, in flat or tumulus graves, isolated or in small groups18, most of them containing cremated remains19 which were either deposited directly in a pit or put in a funerary urn; the funerary inventory varies from just a pot (or even absolutely nothing), to full warrior panoply and luxury items. So what is it that makes them so different that they shouldn’t be analysed like regular burials? It is very simple actually: their number.

17 Only three individuals were inhumed. 18 Only the five graves from Zimnicea came from a large cemetery (containing 166 burials) but all except for these were dated between the 4th and 3rd century B.C. (SÎRBU 1993, p.76). Additionally one may consider the finds from Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului as a cemetery, but the large majority of the tombs belonged to very small children (SÎRBU ET AL. 2007). 19 Although seven of them were cenotaphs as no human bones were found.

The total number of burials from Romania belonging to the ‘classic Dacian civilisation’ is just 5120, for a period covering 250 years! It is not possible to argue that the region was not populated, as all the settlement evidence points otherwise. Furthermore, the inhabitants of those lands must have been quite numerous since ancient sources inform us that king Burebista could raise an army of 200,000 men (VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987), which even though undoubtedly an exaggeration, bears witness to the sheer number of the people living there. Consequently we come to the same conclusion as all the authors dealing with the Dacians that these people dealt with their dead in a manner that unfortunately left no archaeological traces.

For this reason the 51 burials that have been identified need to be treated as special discoveries. They do not represent the standard, regular way of dealing with the dead. They are exceptions, anomalies! Hence, seeing them just as burials would be totally wrong as the messages that they portrayed and the meanings behind them are linked to their special character. These burials do not respect the regular funerary rules that were employed in the Dacian world and thus may very well not respect the general rules about burials at all, making it highly problematic to use the model employed by archaeologist to interpret mortuary practices in general21. Therefore the placing of a sword in a grave may have nothing to do with the deceased possessing outstanding military skills but may represent something totally different which could only be properly understood in a particular context and abiding by a particular set of rules.

Despite this situation, I doubt that these extraordinary finds do not respect at least some of the things that we generally think about burials. Hence, I am not implying that we should lead ourselves into believing that it is impossible to get to the meaning of these ‘alien’22 graves. In the end, it is quite likely that a sword in a burial may imply martial prowess as we would suspect, even though the meanings associated with the object may be more numerous and complex than expected. I am just pointing out the need to ground all the assertions that are made about them in a much more solid manner than we would do when examining other types of burials. Moreover, it should be expected for meanings that are not normally associated with the mortuary rituals to be present.

Therefore, my opinion is that even though they represent anomalies, we are still dealing with manifestations of the funerary ritual; the deceased were really laid to rest in these graves and this cannot be denied. Nonetheless, if the Dacian communities had only wanted to do that, to organise a mortuary ritual for one of their members, they would have done it in the regular way, leaving no archaeological traces. So the big question is why did they do it? Why do these ‘alien’ burials exist at all23? 20 There might be several other burials coming from the south-eastern part of Transilvania (COSTEA 2002), but those findings were generally uncovered more than fifty years ago and their actual existence cannot be validated. Anyhow, these unconfirmed discoveries would only slightly raise the number of funerary findings and thus not make any real difference. It should also be mentioned that there are about 70 known tumuli which probably date to the ‘classic Dacian period’ but only around 30 of them have been investigated (SÎRBU 1994, 130). 21 CRAWFORD (2004) actually argued that it might be better to see burials in general in the same manner as votive deposits, as the main difference between a 'votive' deposit and a 'mortuary' deposit is the presence of all or part of a body, and even this distinction does not always hold. 22 I employ the term ‘alien’ so as to signal the special character of the burials. It does not mean that they were foreign, coming from outside the Dacian culture. 23 I think that this represents the question that we should be asking ourselves when looking at the Dacian burials. The Romanian authors have been trying to understand why the people in the Late La Tène switched to an ‘invisible’ funerary ritual and at the same time decipher the social meaning behind the few graves that we had (MOSCALU 1977; SÎRBU 1985; 1986; BABEŞ 1988; SÎRBU 1993; 1994;

I think that the communities opted to alter the funerary rituals in such a radical manner because it was necessary for a very important message to be put forward. This would have been the perfect occasion to achieve such a goal, since as already mentioned, we may assume that funerals were public events involving members from the neighbouring communities, and because the impact that was achieved through the deliberate modification of the mortuary ritual would have been considerable. Every participant to the ceremony would have been struck immediately by the marked difference in the treating of these dead and thus we can assume that the intended meaning would have been extremely obvious. The only question left to answer now is what was the transmitted message about? What was that important? To find the answer it is necessary to look at the other processes and events that affected the Dacian population in the La Tène C2–D and thus fit this very interesting phenomenon into its context.

II.3. The larger Dacian ‘picture’ The Dacians were not isolated. They came in contact with different populations and groups of people that inhabited the regions around them. I think it is only fair to mention those that could have influenced them in such a way so as to lead to the abnormal burial phenomenon (Fig. 6).

First of all there are the Greeks who started occupying the shores of the Black Sea as far back as the 7th century B.C. Their contact with the Dacians was very intense, as it can be proven by the numerous Greek imports that can be found in many of the Late La Tène settlements from Romania (GLODARIU 1976), especially those to the south and east of the Carpathian arch, like Popeşti (VULPE 1955; 1959; 2004), Poiana (VULPE 2003), Răcătău (CĂPITANU 1976; 1981;

1986) and Brad (URSACHI 1995). Moreover, there seems to have been a great influence relating to the structuring of the Dacian political organisation, especially in the case of Burebista who may have even originated from a region with strong contacts with the Greek colonies (STROBERL 1998, 85). Finally, the architecture that can be seen in many of the Dacian settlements, especially the defensive systems, seems to bear a strong Hellenist resemblance (GLODARIU 1983). The influence of the Roman Empire was also considerable and the imports found in the Dacian world (GLODARIU 1976) can again confirm that, as well as the massive penetration of Roman coins (SPÂNU 2006, 188–189). But it is the Empire’s military force and campaigns which probably had the most important affect on the Dacians. Starting from the second part of the 1st century B.C. the Romans established themselves to the south of the Danube; from this point onward the threat become imminent and military

RUSTOIU ET AL. 2001). In contrast, I consider that we should begin with the question of why we have these burials in the first place, as we normally should not. Only after the answer to this riddle is unraveled can we really get behind the meanings that Romanian archaeologists have been so desperate to get to.

Fig. 6. The neighbours of the Dacians (map produced using Google Earth).

clashes between the two forces were more and more frequent (VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987).

Next we should consider the Celts, who in my opinion exerted a very powerful influence on the Dacians. The first Celtic groups moved slowly during the second part of the 4th century B.C. travelling through the northern part of the Great Hungarian Plain and entering the upper basin of the Tisza River; afterwards they went south along the Western (or Apuseni) Carpathians and reached Transilvania24 where they cohabited with, and arguably dominated, the indigenous population, a process which is documented by a series of cemeteries which can be seen along this route (RUSTOIU 2008, 69–70). During the 2nd century B.C. one can observe the sudden disappearance of the Celtic graves and settlements from Transilvania, a phenomenon that has been explained as either the assimilation of these people by the local population or as them being “expelled” by migrating groups from the south of the Carpathians which were led by a warrior elite, the so-called Padea–Panaghiurski-Kolonii group (WOŹNIAK 1974; 1975; 1976; RUSTOIU 2002; 2008). The Celts are thought to have introduced many new elements to the Dacian world, a process which can also be seen in the burial evidence through the appearance of the long La Tène double-edged swords (longswords) or chainmails. This influence was even more important in Oltenia where there was close interaction with the Small Scordisci, a Celtic group that settled around the Danube Gorge, resulting in an interesting cultural mix that manifested itself, among other, in a specific form of burial practices.

Besides the Greeks, Romans, and Celts there were also other populations which regularly interacted with the Dacians. To the south of the Danube, there were Thracian tribes, such as the Moesi or Tribali who regularly formed alliances with their Late Iron Age counterparts from the north of the great river (RUSTOIU 2002). To the north-north-east there was a powerful Germanic (Przeworsk culture) influence which lead to the formation of the already mentioned Lipiţa group that maintained a unique burial ritual (BABEŞ 1988, 9; SÎRBU 1993, 26–27), whereas in the upper basin of the Tisza River the Celtic groups maintained their influence (KOTIGOROSKO 1995) leading to large settlements and cemeteries as the ones from Zemplin (SÎRBU 1993, 27). Finally, the Sarmatians, occupying the regions to the north of the Black Sea, had an important impact on the Dacian culture from Moldova and Muntenia (BÂRCĂ 2002) with whom they interacted regularly through exchange or any other type of contact.

After mentioning the external influences coming into the Dacian world it is necessary to look at what was actually happening within the Late La Tène societies on the Romanian territory. It is crucial that we understand the fundamental changes that took place in the region sometime in the second part of the 2nd and start of the 1st century B.C., as one facet is the ‘disappearance’ of the burial evidence which represented the background for the ‘alien’ mortuary practices.

With the start of the ‘classic Dacian civilisation’ we observe a massive demographic increase. Archaeological finds point towards a large increase in the number of both rural, undefended settlements, and more developed fortresses (FLOREA–SÎRBU 1997, 15) which reach, in some instances, a pre-urban level, especially in the case of Sarmizegetusa, the capital of the Dacian state during the time of Decebalus (GLODARIU ET AL. 1988). Furthermore, most of the so called davae25,

24 I prefer to use the Romanian spelling, Transilvania, and not the English one, Transylvania, in order to respect its correct Latin etymology. 25 Many of the Dacian settlement names that we know from ancient sources contain the termination dava (e.g. Zargidava, Capidava, Piroboridava) and hence the term is considered to be the equivalent of the Greek word polis. Therefore the davae were large fortified settlements, with intense signs of

such as the ones from Popeşti, Poiana or Brad, even though existing from previous times, reach their maximum expansion and development in this period, witnessing an important increase in crafts production (pottery, iron, bronze)26. Some authors would add that with the start of this period we can witness a shift of power from the regions outside the Carpathian arch to Transilvania, especially the region of the Orăştie Mountains where a complex web of fortified centres start being built (Costeşti–Blidaru, Căpâlna, Piatra Roşie, Băniţa, etc.) as well as the future capital of Sarmizegetusa27 (FLOREA–SÎRBU 1997, 15; RUSTOIU 2002) (Fig. 7). This small area would become the centre of what can be named to a certain extent the Dacian state.

The La Tène C2–D is thus the period when the Dacian state takes shape and the two pillars of this political creation, tightly linked to one another, were the army and religion. The so-called ‘unification’ of the Dacians was done probably to a large extent through the power of the army (FLOREA–SÎRBU 1997, 16). Therefore, Burebista, the first who managed to achieve this, used the power of his armies to maintain control, which would explain why from his time28 we have the first fortresses that had a purely military function (VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987, 55). It seems however that the new king went beyond just military force as he needed a way to suppress efficiently the power of the local elite, some of whom no doubt controlled powerful tribal entities; hence he employed the power of religion.

In the 6th century A.D., Jordanes, a Romanised Goth from Moesia who wanted to write the history of his people and who, to our advantage, confused the Goths with the Getae wrote some extremely interesting passages:

“Then when Burebistas was king of the Goths, Decaeneus came to Gothia at the time when Sulla ruled the Romans.” “Burebistas received Decaeneus and gave him almost royal power.” “Their [the Dacians’] safety, their advantage, their one hope lay in this, that whatever their counsellor Decaeneus advised should by all means be done; and they judged it expedient that they should put it into effect.” “Thus by teaching them ethics he [Decaeneus] restrained their barbarous customs; by instructing them in the science of nature, he made them live naturally under laws

habitation, including what may be in some places a ‘residential area’ and a sanctuary. They usually concentrated manufacturing and commercial activities and probably were tribal centres controlling a territory around them with its rural settlements (BABEŞ 1979; VULPE–ZAHARIADE 1987, 43). All settlements of this type disappear after the Roman conquest (BABEŞ 2000, 329). 26 Conversely, STROBEL (1998, 81) thinks that such an affirmation is only true for Transilvania, while the maximum level of development was already reached by this point in the regions to the south and east of the Carpathian arch. The archaeological finds however do not support this point of view. 27 STROBEL (1998) disagrees with this opinion as well and considers that the prominence of Transilvania over the regions to the south of the Carpathian arch occurs only after the fall of Burebista’s kingdom and the intervention of M. Licinius Crassus in 29–28.27 B.C., which created a large security zone, emptied of population, on the left banks of the Danube. 28 Although the dating of the first phase from these fortresses is often just conventionally thought as being during the reign of Burebista (LOCKYEAR 2004).

Fig. 7. The location of the Orăştie Mountains and Sarmizegetusa.

of their own…He taught them logic and made them skilled in reasoning beyond all other races; he showed them practical knowledge and so persuaded them to abound in good works.” “He [Decaeneus] chose from among them those that were at that time of noblest birth and superior wisdom and taught them theology, bidding them worship certain divinities and holy places. He conferred the name of Pilleati on the priests he ordained, I suppose because they offered sacrifice having their heads covered with tiaras, which we otherwise call pillei.” “But he bade them call the rest of their race Capillati.” (http://www.harbornet.com/folks/theedrich/Goths/Goths1.htm) In my opinion Jordanes gives the answer to how Burebista kept under control

the Dacian tribal leaders: by employing Decaeneus at his side who introduced a major social and religious reform. There has been an enormous amount of debate around the problem of who this Decaeneus character really was29 and the precise nature of the changes that he brought to the Dacians (CRIŞAN 1977; BODOR 1981; DAICOVICIU 1981; GOSTAR–LICA 1984; AVRAM 1989; FLOREA–SÎRBU 1997; PETRE 2004; FLOREA 2006) and it would not be appropriate to go further into this discussion30 as it would require a large amount of space. Nevertheless we need to remember that major changes occurred in fundamental areas of the Dacian societies and we can only guess some of its effects in the archaeological record, one of them being the ‘disappearance’ of the burials. There seems to be however an important chronological issue, since most of the changes appear to have started sometime in the second half of the 2nd century B.C., while Decaeneus’s reforms only occurred after the start of the 1st century B.C. A good solution to this problem has not yet been proposed, as far as I know of.

Now that both the ‘external’ and ‘internal’ situation has been briefly presented the existence of the ‘alien’ mortuary practices seems to make somewhat more sense. They were without a doubt triggered by the tremendous turmoil which affected the Dacian world, both due to this process of ‘state centralisation’ and the increasing Roman pressure. However, for the picture to be even clearer, I will summarise the other major phenomena taking place in the Late La Tène linked to the same category as the burials (i.e. ritual activities).

First of all there is the appearance of the impressive temple structures starting with the beginning of the 1st century B.C. (Fig. 8.1, 8.2). Made both of wood and stone, these religious structures, which probably evolved from local domestic forms, were generally located within the ramparts of settlements or fortresses31 which were also the places where it is likely that the elites resided (FLOREA–PUPEZĂ 2008, 292). All of the temple buildings, including those from outside Roman Dacia, disappear after the Roman conquest (BABEŞ 2000, 331), a phenomenon that has been interpreted as the immediate fall of the religious beliefs associated with these structures after the ‘be-heading’ of the Dacian aristocracy (FLOREA–PUPEZĂ 2008).

29 Especially since his life-history and activity is remarkably similar to what the antique source tell us about Zalmoxis, one of the most important Dacian gods (PETRE 2004). 30 I feel the need however to express my support to the view proposed by AVRAM (1989) and further developed by PETRE (2004) according to which the aristocracy suffered a change of character, shifting from a military to an aulic elite, hence changing their ‘sign’ from the lavishly ornamented helmets that we can find in the 4th and 3rd century B.C. burials to a new kind of ‘helmets’, the pillei mentioned by Jordanes. 31 It has been pointed out that many of the strategic fortresses that had a purely martial function, with no apparent important civilian inhabitance, had sanctuaries located in their immediate vicinity (e.g. at Blidaru–Pietroasa lui Solomon, Bâtca Doamnei, Piatra Roşie, Piatra Craivii), further pointing out to a link between the military and religion (FLOREA–SÎRBU 1997, 16).

Next, starting with the 2nd century B.C., but apparent especially in the 1st

century B.C. and 1st century A.D., the Dacians practised human sacrifices. This phenomenon which is recorded both by ancient writings (e.g. Herodotus, Jordanes, Stephanus of Byzantium, Eustathius, Pomponius Mela) and archaeological discoveries, was apparently practised for several reasons and on different occasions: propitiation of the divinities, founding of a building, death of the husband (which can sometimes lead to the sacrifice of both the wife and children), death of a community member, killing of prisoners etc (SÎRBU 1993, 31–36). Most of the sacrificial victims were children though adolescents and adults were present too, but no bones came

Fig. 8.2. Great circular temple and rectangular temple from Sarmizegetusa (GHEORGHIU 2005, 345, 347).

Fig. 8.1. ‘Sacred area’ of Sarmizegetusa (GHEORGHIU 2005, 349). 1 string; 2 wall; 3 paved road; 4 channel; 5 stairs; 6 temple with plinths; 7 dismantled plinths; 8

stone pilasters; 9 hearth; 10 wooden pilasters; 11 threshold; 12 curb; 13 arrow of andesite sun; 14 andesite sun; 15 entrance platform; 16 terraces.

from the elderly. The remains often presented signs of violence and were frequently found in pits, both inside and outside settlement areas, and contained large quantities of ceramics and animal bones, but never weapons. The skeletons were sometimes found complete and other times less so and the bones were often in non-anatomical connection (SÎRBU 1985).

Finally, there’s the hoarding of precious metal objects. Approximately 29 golden and more than 800 silver objects were found in 350 Dacian hoards (Fig. 9), dated in the 1st century B.C. and 1st

century A.D. Most of them were random discoveries and it has been suggested that we may be dealing with their deliberate exclusion from settlements and their hoarding in remote places (SPÂNU 2006, 190–192). SPÂNU (2002) has identified two phases of this phenomenon, one dated between the middle and end of the 1st century B.C. when it occurred only inside the Carpathian arch, and a second one when it was extended towards the west and south, in Banat, Oltenia and Muntenia32. He also points out that in Transilvania the hoarded goods contained both ‘international’ prestige objects33 as well as local ones, whereas to the south the few hoards that were present contained only ‘international’ prestige goods, with the goods coming from within the Carpathian arch being placed in graves34. It appears therefore that the phenomenon exhibited important regional characteristics and is undoubtedly linked to different layers of identity being expressed. II.4. Fitting the ‘alien’ burials into the picture The Dacian burials were hence one of the outcomes of an extremely agitated period. The Celtic pressure disappears only to be replaced by the Roman menace; the mortuary practices of the 4th and 3rd century B.C., usually incineration in tumulus graves (SÎRBU 2006b), were replaced by a new and ‘invisible’ ritual; the local tribes fight to dominate their neighbours leading to a fragile state which was split due to local rivalries, only to emerge again almost a hundred years later; a religious reformer acquired kinglike power; fortresses and temples (to old or new gods) were built, and the list could go one. But it is in volatile situations of this type that identity seems to be expressed in the strongest manner; questions of identity often come to the fore at times of social and political change; the destruction of existing socio-cultural patterns

32 He dates the maximum height of production and hoarding of objects between the first Roman campaigns in the inferior basin of the Danube (74, 72–71 B.C.) and the firm installation of the Roman legions in the inferior part of the Danube (middle of 1st century A.D.) (SPÂNU 2006, 191). 33 Which he defines as objects that circulated across a larger area. 34 The conclusion is valid only for the areas where the funerary phenomenon still left archaeological traces, like the one in Oltenia (with the Scordisc influence).

Fig. 9. Silver objects from Sărcsău hoard (GHEORGHIU 2005, 479).

and shifting power relations lead to the re-evaluation and re-presentation of identities as new communities arise (GRAVES-BROWN–JONES 1996, 1).

I believe that many of the ‘alien’ burials had as one of their fundamental motivation just this, the desire to express a different identity; these graves became fixed points of reference in a very dynamic world. They represent a phenomenon directly triggered by the socio-political situation; they are the outcome of increased interaction which led the communities to become more conscious of the differences between them and the people who they came in contact with35. The religious reform and the integration in a large political structure would surely have added to this. From this point of view the burials may also be seen as a means of resistance and of protest to these overarching structures that would have emphasised the similarities, all the things that the Dacian communities shared with one-another, in order to maintain cohesion and thus control.

In conclusion, the Dacian burials, far from being simple biographies of the deceased, are the result of the dynamism of the period. They hold within them important information about the identity of the Late La Tène communities who felt the need to express these ideas in such times. The funerary rituals represent the means through which these groups chose to put forward a simple message: “This is who we are!” III. The Identity behind the Dacian burials

In this part I will take a closer look at the burial evidence. In the first half I will be making broad observations about the graves, relating to the different types that are encountered, their spatial distribution, the chronology and the gravegoods that we can find within them, thus extracting general information about the identity of the deceased and the communities that housed them. The second half will be formed of two case studies, where I will aim to give a detailed reconstruction of the identity of those particular communities based on the funerary discoveries. III.1. General considerations The total number of Dacian burials that have been dated to the La Tène C2–D amounts to just 5136, but the number of individuals that they contained is just 44 since 7 of them were cenotaphs and in each case there were only the remains of one person within each grave37. The large majority of the individuals were incinerated (41), which represents the main reason why some archaeologists consider that cremation was the regular burial rite of the Dacian aristocracy (BABEŞ 1988; SÎRBU 1994). The graves come from only 22 locations because an important number of them were part of small necropolises, comprising of anything between 2 and 12 graves, though in the case of Zimnciea and Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului their number gets as high as

35 A similar observation is made by WELLS (2007) when he looks at the identity in Central Europe during the Early Iron Age. 36 There are of course a considerable number of burials which have been identified but not excavated; nonetheless, those would at best double the current figure. 37 Even though in the first tumulus at Brad (Brad T1) there might be two cremated individuals buried underneath the mound. Furthermore, in the case of the third tumulus from Brad (Brad T3), besides the main incineration burial, there were also the remains from two inhumations, but these represented without a doubt human sacrifices (SÎRBU 1994; URSACHI 1995). A similar situation seemed to have occurred at one of the tombs from Cetăţeni (Cetăţeni M2) where the dismembered skeletons of three children were identified underneath a stone pavement (MĂNDESCU 2006).

several hundred38. As for the type of burials that are encountered, 27 were tumulus while the remaining 24 were flat. It should be remarked that almost in no case have signs of robbery been mentioned. The spatial distribution of the Dacian funerary discoveries is in my opinion quite revealing as it is relatively clear that they cluster in three regions (Fig. 10): one in south-west Transilvania, especially in the Mureş River valley; another one in Muntenia and the eastern part of Oltenia; and the third in Moldova, in the Siret River valley. This raises the suspicion of a different regional identity being expressed in each of the three cases. On a closer examination of the burials this idea seems to be confirmed to an

extent. A total of 16 Dacian graves were found in Transilvania, 11 of which were flat, coming from 8 locations. A remarkable characteristic of this group is that half of the burials contained weapons39 and among them there was always a sica or its scabbard and in 7 cases lances were also present (Fig. 11). This is extremely important because only two other graves of the total of 51 had a sica while 11 contained a lance. Therefore it appears that one of the principal elements that was illustrated through the Transilvanian funerary ritual was martial prowess; that these communities held an important military power during the 1st

38 In the case of Zimniecea however only 5 burials out of 166 were dated in the 2nd century B.C., while the rest belonged to the 4th and 3rd centuries B.C. (SÎRBU 1994, 76). As for Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului only 6 of the graves were taken in my analysis because all the rest come from children of very small ages (SÎRBU ET AL. 2007). 39 In most cases the tombs contain almost exclusively weapons plus, in some cases, horse-gear.

Fig. 10. The location of the Dacian burials and the zones they define.

1.Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului; 2.Călan; 3.Costeşti–Cetăţuie; 4.Cugir; 5.Tărtăria; 6.Blandiana; 7.Teleac; 8.Tilişca; 9.Poiana (Gorj); 10.Gropşani; 11. Sprâncenata; 12.Cepari; 13.Cetăţeni; 14.Orbeasca de Sus; 15.Lăceni; 16.Zimnicea; 17.Popeşti; 18.Radovanu; 19.Piscu Crăsani; 20.Brad; 21.Răcătău; 22.Poiana (Galaţi).

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Weapons Chainmails Helmets Horse-gear (or

chariot pieces)

Adornments &

Clothing

accessories

Pottery Animal bones Imports Coins

Fig. 11. Categories of objects found in the burials from Transilvania.

century B.C., when most of the finds can be more or less dated40. The object chosen to put forward this message was par excellence the sica (Fig. 12), an item that is found almost exclusively in funerary contexts and has its maximum concentration in Oltenia41, in the regions with an important Scordisc influence (SPÂNU 2002, 99). It is difficult to infer about the popularity of the sica in the Dacian world, even though we have depictions of it on Trajan’s column and the possibly on the metopes of the Trophy of

Adamclisi42 (Fig. 13). The importance of the martial aspect in south-west Transilvania could have many explanations: local conflicts; the rise of powerful elites that started expanding their territory – as let us not forget this is the centre around which the Dacian states were formed and, as already mentioned, they did not preferentially employ diplomacy; a military tradition brought about by the confrontation with Celtic populations, etc. Moving on to the weaponless tombs from Transilvania, these came from three locations and none of them were isolated discoveries. All of them, except for grave 16a from Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului which had no funerary inventory at all, contained adornments (e.g. bracelets, rings, pendants, beads) made out of iron, bronze, silver and glass. Fibulae, pottery and animal bones were recovered in half of the cases. The first tumuli from Cugir (Cugir T1) and the five burials from Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului (13a, 16a, 17, 18 and 27) (SÎRBU ET AL. 2007) can be characterized as being poor, with very few objects. It’s hard to identify the aspects of identity that were evoked in them, but because they were part of necropolises that had burials with weapons, we can only guess that they referred to a complementary identity, adding a more localized dimension. On the other hand, the two tombs situated

40 Of course, in some cases the chronology can be extended to the end of the 2nd century B.C. and in other to the start of the 1st century A.D. Only the tumulus from Costeşti–Cetăţuie has been dated as belonging only to the 1st century A.D. (GHEORGHIU 2005, 208). 41 Consequently, the presence of the sica in the burials might be considered as a desire to illustrate a connection between the people of Oltenia and those in south-west Transilvania. This relation appears to have been integrated into the identity of the communities. Such an idea would fit with RUSTOIU’s (2002; 2008) assumptions of a movement of people from the south, across the Carpathians, to the Mureş River valley around the middle of the 2nd century B.C., led by the Padea–Panaghiurski-Kolonii warriors. 42 Although the curved weapons in the depictions can also be interpreted as being a falx, a specific kind of sword used by the Dacians.

Fig. 12. Sicae found in burials. 1. from Blandiana (GHEORGHIU 2005, 509); 2. from Radovanu (VULPE 1976).

Fig. 13. Sicae from Trajan’s column (after COARELLI

2000).

near the important Dacian settlement of Tiliand glass objects, which may suggest ideas about the wealth of the community, somewhat contrasting with the stress on military attributes seen in the other casesConsequently, it is my opinion that the burials from southstrong regional identity that had as its principal element military power, with more local nuances introduced by the weaponless twere situated further to the east and at some distance from the Murehave constructed a unique, local identity, which was expressed through the display of adornments.

In Muntenia and eastern Oltenmajority being located near important Dacian settlements; 10 of them were tumulus, 3 of which were cenotaphs, and 12 flat. This is a large area compared to the other two, and displays an enormous diversity in t(Fig. 14). This may be seen as being the result of very different influences that were being felt in the region (i.e. Greek, Roman, Scordisc) which led to unique identities taking shape and being expressed. For general patterns for this region. One of the things that does stand up to a certain degree is that 6 of the total of 8 chainmails found in the Dacian burials come from Muntenia. What is even more fascinating Cetăţeni (Cetăţeni M1) and the second and forth tumuli from PopeT4) were relatively lavish, with a considerable number of objects, some of the made of gold and silver. The rest of the tombs objects, like in the case of Poianabronze which may have come from a helmet. This is undoubtedly a sign that the chainmail, a rare and difficult to manufacture object, w 43

Although it might be that the finds from Tilişca actually

silver hoards.

0

2

4

6

8

10

12

14

Fig. 14. Categories of objects found in the burials from Muntenia and eastern Oltenia

near the important Dacian settlement of Tilişca (LUPU 1989) contained several silver glass objects, which may suggest ideas about the wealth of the community,

somewhat contrasting with the stress on military attributes seen in the other casesConsequently, it is my opinion that the burials from south-west Transilvania imply a

onal identity that had as its principal element military power, with more local nuances introduced by the weaponless tombs. Only the people of Tiliwere situated further to the east and at some distance from the Mureş River, appear to have constructed a unique, local identity, which was expressed through the display of

In Muntenia and eastern Oltenia 22 Dacian burials have been excavated, the majority being located near important Dacian settlements; 10 of them were tumulus, 3 of which were cenotaphs, and 12 flat. This is a large area compared to the other two, and displays an enormous diversity in terms of the gravegoods and their association

). This may be seen as being the result of very different influences that were being felt in the region (i.e. Greek, Roman, Scordisc) which led to unique identities taking shape and being expressed. For this reason it is very difficult to observe any general patterns for this region. One of the things that does stand up to a certain degree is that 6 of the total of 8 chainmails found in the Dacian burials come from Muntenia. What is even more fascinating is that among these only the first grave from

eni M1) and the second and forth tumuli from Popeşti (PopeT4) were relatively lavish, with a considerable number of objects, some of the made of gold and silver. The rest of the tombs contained only a small number of other objects, like in the case of Poiana (Gorj) where there was only one other piece of bronze which may have come from a helmet. This is undoubtedly a sign that the chainmail, a rare and difficult to manufacture object, was seen as having an important

Although it might be that the finds from Tilişca actually do not come from burials but from two

14. Categories of objects found in the burials from Muntenia and eastern Oltenia

contained several silver glass objects, which may suggest ideas about the wealth of the community,

somewhat contrasting with the stress on military attributes seen in the other cases43. west Transilvania imply a

onal identity that had as its principal element military power, with more ombs. Only the people of Tilişca, who

ş River, appear to have constructed a unique, local identity, which was expressed through the display of

ia 22 Dacian burials have been excavated, the

majority being located near important Dacian settlements; 10 of them were tumulus, 3 of which were cenotaphs, and 12 flat. This is a large area compared to the other two,

erms of the gravegoods and their association ). This may be seen as being the result of very different influences that were

being felt in the region (i.e. Greek, Roman, Scordisc) which led to unique identities this reason it is very difficult to observe any

general patterns for this region. One of the things that does stand up to a certain degree is that 6 of the total of 8 chainmails found in the Dacian burials come from

is that among these only the first grave from şti (Popeşti T2 and

T4) were relatively lavish, with a considerable number of objects, some of the made contained only a small number of other

(Gorj) where there was only one other piece of bronze which may have come from a helmet. This is undoubtedly a sign that the

as seen as having an important

do not come from burials but from two

14. Categories of objects found in the burials from Muntenia and eastern Oltenia.

meaning to these communities; that meaning may not necessarily link to military prowess. The chainmails may be regarded as a sign of the prestige of the deceased and the community due to their extreme scarcity and the investment gone into their acquisition, which may infer that the group identity was constructed around the idea of them seeing themselves as different from the rest, maybe even superior. The same idea of uniqueness is suggested through the five 2nd century tombs of Zimnicea, part of a larger cemetery containing 4th and 3rd century graves. It appears in this case that there’s a desire to illustrate a strong link to the past, hence stressing the importance of history, which is one of the pillars in the creation and maintenance of identity (LUCY 2006, 98). The two tumuli near the settlement of Piscu Crăsani depict again a unique case: both of them were cenotaphs, one of them without any inventory whatsoever and the other containing just three items (a pendant, a fibula, and a fragment from a bronze object that may have come from a helmet) (SÎRBU 1994, 125–126). I believe that the main idea behind the two tombs was the act of building the monuments themselves, as they might not be made to commemorate the death of any actual person; their erection created the occasion to express the local identity and for the community binds to be strengthened. The tumulus near the dava of Radovanu on the other hand, appears to be very similar to those found in Transilvania, as it contained a sica, 2 lance-tips and horse-gear, with an additional ‘southern’ touch, through the presence of a chainmail. We may be dealing here with an identity which is defined through the connections maintained with the Transilvanian centres and/or with those from the regions of Oltenia with a powerful Scordisc influence. However, since it is an isolated grave, there is the possibility that what was actually expressed was the ‘otherness’ of the deceased; that he was a warrior coming from distant lands. Finally, the four tombs situated close to the important dava of Popeşti, part of a group of ten tumuli, present a different situation. The burials were placed in a position of high visibility, on heightened terrain, making them clear symbols of the Dacian settlement (VULPE 1976, 205) (Fig. 15). They imply sheer military might, with the second and

the forth tumuli (Popoeşti T2 and T4) containing swords, lances and chainmails; T4 additionally had a helmet, a sica, an umbo from a shield, arrow heads, horse-gear, practically all the equipment that could have been used in battle. Additionally, a great variety of clothing accessories and adornments were included: numerous fibulae, pendants, glass beads, even a bronze mirror. Moreover, numerous ceramic vessels were added, such as cups or ‘fruit bowls’44 but also Kos amphorae (imports or local imitations). The utilisation of all these objects suggest an identity based

44 The so-called ‘fruit bowls’ are a type of vessel that has a large circulation in Romania during the Late La Tène (Fig. 16).

Fig. 15. Plan of the area of Popeşti (after VULPE 1955).

on the concepts of martial force and wealth; the community defined itself, and wanted to be seen, as an important centre of power, one that was able to engage confidently in battle and that controlled vast amounts of recourses.

The third and last area, to the east of the Carpathians, is comprised of the 12 tumuli which were part of the small cemeteries of three very important davae, plus an isolated flat grave; they were located on the banks of the Siret River. In this case the military aspect is almost entirely absent as there are no weapons present in the graves, just fragments from a lorica sqamata and some iron rings which may have come from a chainmail in one of the tumuli of

Răcătau, plus a few arrowheads at Brad. Imports, Roman and especially Greek (i.e. amphora, kantharoi, fibulae, glass objects), were quite frequent, being present in almost half of the burials (Fig. 17); additionally there were a number of objects made of silver and gold (silver rings, a golden leaf, a gilded lion’s mask, a thin golden sheet covering a round iron object). It appears to me as if these communities defined themselves through their extensive commercial activities, an image that is also strongly suggested by the large number of imports found within the settlements. However, the tumuli from Brad, the settlement that was northernmost of the three, had very few gravegoods45 but the other 9 tumuli of the necropolis, which were not

45 Even though two of the tumuli from Poiana and one from Răcătău presented a similar situation.

Fig. 16. ‘Fruit bowls’. 1–2. from Craiva (GHEORGHIU 2005, 405); 3–4. from Sprâncenata (PREDA 1986, 159).

0123456789

10

Fig. 17. Categories of objects found in the burials from Moldova.

excavated, might have indicated a different situation46. Nevertheless Brad could have expressed a more local identity, especially since the third tomb (Brad T3) contained, beside the deceased’s cremated remains, two inhumed, sacrificial victims.

A thing that could prove enlightening for the analysis is to examine whether it is possible to observe any evolution that takes place in time from the 2nd century B.C. to the 1st century A.D. Unfortunately, there is a very strong impediment relating to the very poor dating of the burials. As far as I am aware, the chronology was established in most, if not all cases using object typologies. Therefore the dating is at best highly relative making chronological categorisations extremely risky. At best 5 periods could be fixed (Fig. 18): 2nd century B.C., 7 burials; 2nd to 1st century B.C., 15 burials; 1st century B.C., 16 burials; 1st century B.C. to 1st century A.D., 4 burials; and 1st century A.D., 9 burials; obviously there is a serious overlap between some of the five time intervals. If we try to observe the regions in which the tombs appear in each of those periods (Illustration 1) it seems that the burials of Muntenia and Oltenia, as well as those from Transilvania, even though the latter start off later, were built especially in the 2nd and 1st century B.C., while those of Moldova are constructed in the 1st century B.C. (Poiana) and 1st century A.D. (Brad and Răcătău). Consequently I might dare to say that there was an apparent move from the west-south-west to the east (Illustration 2). This apparent pattern might have to do with how strongly the pressure coming from the Roman Empire was being felt; as the Romans advanced to the Danube and then crossed it, the communities that felt threatened by their presence reacted (Illustration 3). Of course it may also have to do with the struggle for political domination within the Dacian territory; first there would be the rise of the centre from Transilvania47, then an expansion to the south in Muntenia and Oltenia and finally to the east (Illustration 4). Thus, the communities could be seen as living organisms, immediately reacting by clearly emphasising their identity as soon as the threat of being incorporated in a larger structure appeared.

46 Conversely, the flat grave from Brad, located near the settlement but not part of the tumulus cemetery, presents the same category of imported objects that are found at Poiana and Răcătău. However, because the gravegoods, type of grave and location contrasts highly with the tumuli, it seems likely that in this case the ‘otherness’ of the deceased is expressed; he might have been a merchant from one of the other two davae. If this was indeed the case, then the community of Brad was clearly delimiting itself as different from the settlements to the south. 47 This would mean ignoring the finds from the 2nd century B.C. 5 of them come from only one site, Zimnicea and are close to the Danube; in their case the reaction to the Roman presence seems much is more plausible. The other two 2nd century tombs are from Cetăţeni.

05

10

15

20

2nd century BC2nd -1st

century BC 1st century BC1st century BC

- 1st century

AD

1st century AD

7

15 16

49

Fig. 18. Number of burials per time interval.

At this point I do not think that any more information can be gathered through a general analysis. Nonetheless, the conclusions obtained so far, about the difference in the creation of identity in the three geographical regions, as well as the possible scenarios observed through the examination of the chronology, represent a good indicator of the dynamics occurring in the Dacian world during the Late La Tène.

first wave (2nd and 1st century B.C.) second wave (1st century B.C. to 1st century A.D.)

Illustration 2. The movement of the ‘wave’ of Dacia burials. 1. Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului; 2. Călan; 3. Costeşti–Cetăţuie; 4. Cugir; 5. Tărtăria; 6. Blandiana; 7. Teleac; 8. Tilişca; 9. Poiana (Gorj); 10. Gropşani; 11. Sprâncenata; 12. Cepari; 13. Cetăţeni; 14. Orbeasca de Sus; 15. Lăceni; 16. Zimnicea; 17. Popeşti; 18. Radovanu; 19. Piscu Crăsani; 20. Brad; 21. Răcătău; 22. Poiana (Galaţi).

0

2

4

6

8

10

2nd c. BC2nd -1st c.

BC1st c. BC

1st c. BC -

1st c. AD1st c.AD

Transilvania

Muntenia and

eastern Oltenia

Moldova

Illustration 1. Number of burials in each period/region.

III.2. Case studies I wish to continue by undertaking a close examination of two Dacian burials. I will aim to extract as much information as possible about the identity of the deceased and that of the community from which he/she was part of. In order to do so, I will start by presenting the general context of the tombs, continue with the gravegoods and finish with the analysis.

2nd century BC approx. 1st century BC 1st century AD

Illustration 3. The reaction to the Roman pressure as suggested by the burial evidence. 1. Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului; 2. Călan; 3. Costeşti–Cetăţuie; 4. Cugir; 5. Tărtăria; 6. Blandiana; 7. Teleac; 8. Tilişca; 9. Poiana (Gorj); 10. Gropşani; 11. Sprâncenata; 12. Cepari; 13. Cetăţeni; 14. Orbeasca de Sus; 15. Lăceni; 16. Zimnicea; 17. Popeşti; 18. Radovanu; 19. Piscu Crăsani; 20. Brad; 21. Răcătău; 22. Poiana (Galaţi).

2nd century BC approx. 1st century BC: first wave approx. 1st century BC: second wave 1st century AD

Illustration 4. The reaction to the battles for political control suggested by the burial evidence. 1.Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului; 2. Călan; 3. Costeşti–Cetăţuie; 4. Cugir; 5. Tărtăria; 6 .Blandiana; 7. Teleac; 8. Tilişca; 9. Poiana (Gorj); 10. Gropşani; 11. Sprâncenata; 12. Cepari; 13. Cetăţeni; 14. Orbeasca de Sus; 15. Lăceni; 16. Zimnicea; 17. Popeşti; 18. Radovanu; 19. Piscu Crăsani; 20. Brad; 21. Răcătău; 22. Poiana (Galaţi).

The first burial that I will be looking at is the second tumulus found at Cugir (Cugir T2) (CRIŞAN 1980) and is dated in the 1st century B.C. This finding represents the richest funerary discovery attributed to the Dacians, along with the forth grave from Popeşti (Popeşti T4) (VULPE 1976). The tomb was part of a group of four tumuli and was located near an important fortified Dacian settlement. It was placed on an 8m wide artificial terrace that was dug into the steep south-west ridge of the hill which housed the settlement. The mound, made out of large quantities of river boulders and local stone covered with earth, had underneath it an area delimited by a small ditch which was covered with yellow clay, and contained the funerary pyre, made of fir wood, and a small pit in the middle. The deceased, a 35 year old male, was dressed in full panoply, with an Eastern Celtic helmet (PFLUG 1989), chainmail, a long La Tène D sword, a sica, a lance and a shield with iron margins and umbo. He was placed in a cart pulled by two horses, the remains of which were found along with those from a third horse that would have been used for riding. After the incineration, the ashes and burned objects were placed together in the small central pit which contained, besides the already mentioned artefacts, adornments (massive silver fibulae and silver buttons) and two gold plates, one that was lavishly decorated and had its extremity in the form of a stylised animal, probably a ram48, and the other a small fragment that would have been attached to an iron object (Fig. 19). Next, the small pit was covered with yellow clay and on top of this was placed a small, intact, hand-made ceramic vessel, a large (0.70 m in diameter), black ‘fruit bowl’, and a bronze situla, having trapezoidal attachments and swan-shaped handles. On top of all of the above was fixed a large rock (60 x 35 x 40 cm) which sealed the grave.

It is quite clear that we are faced with the remains from a very elaborate ritual that was carefully planned and in which the attention to detail was extraordinary. Most of these elements undoubtedly had to do with beliefs about the afterlife, such as the small ditch delimiting the circular area and the use of yellow clay, both of which demarcated that area of land, suggesting, among other, the separation of the dead from the living. We have to realise that this funeral would have represented an extremely important event for the community and that it would have been witnessed by many of the neighbouring groups; not only was the regular funerary rite modified, but the entire ‘play’ was done with careful planning. The identity markers would have been evident in all the elements employed in the ritual, both to the local community and the other participants. The boundary between the locals and the ‘other’ was first of all drawn through the ritual itself, through practice, especially considering its unique character. The precision and the organisation points to

48 This last piece could have been part of the horse-gear (CRIŞAN 1980, 83).

Fig. 19. Cugir, objects found in tumulus nr. 2; 1–4 iron, 5 gold. (SÎRBU–

ARSENESCU 2006, 181).

clear rules that the members of the local community would have been aware of; they would have known the meaning behind them. This kind of knowledge brought the community together; it was an element that made its members aware of all the similarities they shared. As for the items that were placed, there is a clear combination of military aspects and wealth. The full panoply, containing everything that a warrior could have needed, was almost like a threat made to the neighbouring communities. The Eastern Celtic helmet implies large regional connections, while the cart seems to be more linked to the past since it is a type regularly encountered in the Middle La Tène funerary rituals (SPÂNU 2002, 127). Therefore, the identity is expressed through the communities’ and the deceased’s relationship to both the present and the past. Moreover, the presence of the cart with two horses plus a riding horse can be seen as a form of conspicuous consumption on a two-fold level: first they could have chosen to put either one or the other since they had similar functions to a large extent49; secondly, they could have chosen to put only the cart and the horse-gear50 without actually sacrificing the horses. Hence the choice to utilise both may either suggest sheer wealth, or the strong connection existing between the deceased and horses, which would make these animals one of the pillars of his identity51. Finally, there is surely a very clear message being expressed through the placing of the three intact objects, the small vessel, large ‘fruit bowl’ and bronze situla, on top of the cremated remains. The situla appears to have been an Italic import (SPÂNU 2002, 127) while the other two objects were of clear local origin. So could this suggest a contrast; the opposition between the rising power to the south (i.e. Romans) and the local community? Moreover, there could be another contrast between the small vessel and the large ‘fruit bowl’. Even though it is very hard to confirm such a scenario, I would venture to say that the ‘fruit bowl’, which was placed in a central position and ‘dominated’ the other objects, was used as a symbol of the local community, while the small ceramic vessel symbolised other Dacian groups, and the situla referred to the newly arrived Romans. Therefore the community expressed their superiority over their adversaries, both local and from afar; they defined themselves through the power that they had accumulated. Let us move now to a very different case, at Sprâncenata where we find an inhumation grave located inside a dava (Fig. 20) and dated to the 1st century A.D. (PREDA 1986). The burial is made of a rectangular and irregular pit starting from a depth of 1.90 m and extended in a semicircle to a depth of 3m to the west. It is only from this depth (3 m), where a threshold of yellow clay was laid out, that the grave pit actually started, rectangular in shape and orientated north to south. The pit contained some pottery sherds52, but much more significantly, it had on the bottom a coffin, carved out of half of a tree trunk, and being thinner towards the southern part, where the feet of the deceased would have been, and wider towards the northern part (Fig. 21). The coffin did not contain any objects or bones; the only skeletal remains coming from the pit were a radius and some phalanges belonging to an adolescent. Also significant is that the lower part of the pit, after stepping down from the threshold, was made to look like a funerary chamber: where were four posts laid close to the

49 Even though the cart was just for parading while the horse was also used in battle, though the golden plate, part of the horse-gear, points again towards parading. 50 Horse-gear is a ‘normal’ find in the graves containing weapons (e.g. Blandiana, Călan, Tărtăria). 51 I think that in this case it is the identity of the deceased and less that of the community being expressed because neither horse remains or horse-gear appear in the other two excavated tumuli (Cugir T1 and T4). 52 Which were unfortunately considered insignificant by the author of the excavation (PREDA 1986, 51).

corners of the pit, which supported lateral and transversal beams and had a wooden roof.

The funerary discovery from Sprâncenata is truly unique in the Dacian world because it is the only one that had steps, a funerary chamber, a coffin53, and was located in the middle of a settlement54. A question that immediately arises is why there were so few human remains, but PREDA (1986, 51) suggests a very plausible scenario: it is unlikely that the grave was robbed since the skeleton should have only been disturbed, not taken out; instead he thinks that both the gravegoods and the skeleton were taken by the inhabitants, who abandoned the settlement at the middle of the 1st century A.D. even though no destruction layer was noticed55. It is almost impossible to even take a wild guess as to the meaning behind this impressive funerary discovery. It is obvious through its location (Fig. 22) that the burial was central to the community members and to the settlement itself; it was a focal point and probably the place where important rituals took place. If the skeleton and funerary inventory were indeed taken when the settlement was abandoned, it means that the very existence of the community was linked to the deceased; he/she must have been the very element that defined its members; those remains would have been the essence of their identity. Did they belong to someone

who they thought came down from some mythical ancestor? Or was he/she seen as a prophet of some sort? Unfortunately such questions cannot be answered. A striking thing is that even though the settlement was founded in the 2nd century B.C., the burial

53 Although this may also be due to taphonomic processes. 54 There have been human bones found within settlements (in pits or just scattered around), but those are thought as coming from human sacrifices. 55 The absence of a destruction layer makes Preda’s assumption about the disappearance of the skeleton even more plausible since the other solution would have been an intentional desecration by enemies, because the place obviously had an important religious significance to the community; however, if this were the case, there should have been more signs of ‘enemy activity’ inside the settlement.

Fig. 20. General view of the dava from Sprâncenata (PREDA 1986, 131).

Fig. 21. The oak coffin found in the burial from Sprâncenata (PREDA 1986, 132).

was only built in the 1st century A.D., in the last phase of its existence. Two possible scenarios come to my mind so as to explain this chronological gap: either the community suffered a sudden change in identity in the 1st century A.D., which would fit with the adolescent being a prophet, sent by the gods; or the chronology is wrong, since the burial is dated through the dirt that came out of the pit and which belonged to the final level of inhabitance. The pit could have been backfilled by the community members when they took the skeleton and abandoned the settlement, which means that the burial could have been constructed as the settlement was established, thus making it highly plausible for the adolescent to be seen as either descending from mythical ancestors, or as being sacrificed when the dava was founded. The funerary chamber built on top would have been a constant reminder of this event and it is likely that there would have been periodic rituals to commemorate and/or reiterate it, thereby maintaining alive the identity of the community.

To sum up, the burials from Sprâcenata and from Cugir exemplify the variety in the expression of identity. While some people saw their community as being defined by a person or an event from the past, others thought that their martial skills, their wealth and their power were what better illustrated who they are. Some chose to inhume their ‘important dead’, other to cremate them; some built funerary chambers in settlements, others constructed mounds on hillsides. They all might have shared similar forms of material culture (i.e. ‘Geto-Dacian’) but were by all accounts unique. Conclusion. Searching for Dacian Identity Who were the Dacians? I think that this question, which I attempted to answer in the introduction of this paper, needs to be given a different answer now that the burial evidence has been presented. The Dacians were not just “the noblest as well as the most just of all the Thracian tribes” as Herodotus wrote; they were not just Burebista and Decebalus; they were not just the enemies of Rome; they were many, many more things than that. The Dacian communities were very diverse. They actively and dynamically responded to the world around them, the social intersections and political machinations that were taking place in the Late La Tène and that affected them. One of the most fascinating responses was the intentional modification of the funerary rituals leading to the appearance of ‘alien’ burials. The chronology of these tombs, although extremely general, suggests that they represented an immediate reaction to the Roman pressure, on the one hand, and to the conflicts that led to military and political ‘unification’, on the other56. These two elements threatened to ‘dilute’ the identity of the Dacian communities and maybe even their very existence. The burials

56 The idea that they represented an immediate reaction is also indicated by another element of the chronology: where small necropolises where erected, all the burials that have been excavated were dated roughly to the same time period. Hence the ‘bending’ of the funerary ritual is likely to have been cause by the same event.

Fig. 22. Plan of Sprâncenata with the burial highlighted (after PREDA 1986, 16).

however counterbalanced this effect as they represented events when communal identity was openly expressed; the bonds that held together the members of the group were thus strengthened. Some elements of their identity entailed substantial regional ties (e.g. the burials from Transilvania) while other indicated the unique character of the community (e.g. Sprâncenata) leading to very diverse narratives. The Late La Tène people of Romania utilised a great range of objects so as to signal their identity. First of all, weapons were used to refer to the martial activities of the deceased and to the military power of the community. It appears that many of the groups from Transilvania, but some from Muntenia as well, considered that their warlike activities represented the most important element of their identity. The weapon that signalled martial prowess par excellence was the sica followed by the lance. In very few cases a full panoply was displayed, constituting of sica, lance, La Tène D longsword, shield, chainmail, helmet, Thracian-type horse-gear. When all these objects did occur together exceptional military skills and great wealth are indicated. Another category of objects which appeared to have been employed extensively were clothing accessories and adornments: fibulae, buttons, beads, rings, pendants etc. The items were made of iron, bronze, silver or gold and despite their regular occurrence in tombs were not found in large quantities, even though in some graves (i.e. Cugir T2, Poiana T1, Popeşti T2, Tilişca M1 and M2) there were several items of this type. Most of the burials that contained such items did not usually have weapons, though at Cugir T2 for example both categories were present. The identity suggested by the presence of clothing accessories and adornments was diverse though it could imply things like prosperity57, wide regional connections or isolation58. Continuing on this idea, the vast majority of objects that were part of the funerary inventory were produced in Dacian workshops. There were some Greek and Roman imports, especially amphora and kantharoi59, plus the bronze situla from Cugir T2, which of course relate to extensive commercial relations, but their numbers were generally low. It seems that these objects were genuinely incorporated so as to express identity only in the case of the Moldavian davae60 and possibly Popeşti to a certain degree. This implies that their commercial relations influenced the way they regarded themselves; their identity was referenced not only to the neighbouring communities but also to those located much farther away, such as the Greek colonies from the Black Sea. It doesn’t appear that they were necessarily used as prestige objects since the same items were found abundantly in the settlements and thus we cannot consider them extraordinary finds61. Furthermore, since many were imitations of Greek and Roman forms, it is possible that we are dealing with the integration of such ‘foreign’ elements but adapted to the local conditions. Building on the previous observation, I think that what the Dacian burials indicate is the existence of several layers of identity. In most cases the main idea refers to a local identity; different sets of elements (e.g. incineration, in tumulus grave,

57 Prosperity may be real, and thus the community could have really defined itself through its economic situation, or ‘not so real’, meaning that the community put forward the image of richness because it best suited its interest. 58 This is suggested through size of the area within which they were encountered; hence some objects had a large circulation (e.g. many of the iron fibulae and pendants) while other were local forms. 59 Even though many were local imitations of Greek and Roman objects. 60 With the exception of Brad; the imports were only present there in the flat grave situated in a different area than the cemetery. 61 Except maybe for the situla from Cugir T2 and some of the finds from the tombs from Poiana (Galaţi).

containing iron fibula, silver buttons, ‘fruit bowl’, arrowheads etc.) were employed so as to create specific combinations. This situation occurred because each community used material culture in a different manner which led to them structuring their world in unique ways. Since identity is based on the similarities shared by the members of the same group (JONES 1999) it is only natural that we obtain the expression of highly localised identities. On top of the first layer, sometimes a regional identity can be spotted, especially through the repeated combination of a specific set of items. This layer is more evident in some graves than in other, and stronger in same geographical areas (i.e. Transilvania and Moldova) than in other (i.e. Muntenia and Oltenia). It is hard to determine however the extent to which those people saw themselves as being part of a larger regional entity, but it is fair to say that in most cases, maybe with the exception of some of the warrior-like burials (e.g. Blandiana, Teleac), it is the local identity that came first. Finally there is the question about the existence of a third layer, that of a Dacian ethnicity. I think that the burials from Late La Tène Romania do not show any evidence for the formation of a clear Dacian ethnic marker; there are no elements which recur in such a manner so as to indicate an ethnic consciousness. The existence of a ‘Geto-Dacian’ ethnicity would have triggered in the burial record the construction of specific ethnic sets; these sets could have changed significantly or even totally in time and from a region to another62 but some linkage between them should have been noticeable. If the ‘alien’ funerary phenomenon was caused primarily by the rising Roman pressure, the Dacian ethnicity should have been extremely obvious in the tombs, since the communities would have expressed how they differ from the same ‘other’ (i.e. the Romans). If, on the other hand, these mortuary practices had as their main agent the regional battles for military and political control, then it would be normal for localised identity markers to be used extensively. However, as it is unlikely that the communities would have gone to such a great length so as to completely hide their assumed ethnicity, it is much more probable that it was never there. Therefore the evidence seems to point that the unquestioned63, ‘glorious Geto-Dacian nation’ is nothing more than a modern myth.

References

JORDANES Jordanes, Latin–English, First half. Available at: http://www.harbornet.com/folks/theedrich/Goths/Goths1.htm [Accessed August 9, 2009].

AUDOUZE 1992 Audouze, F., Towns, Villages and Countryside of Celtic Europe: From the Beginning of the Second Millennium to the End of the First Century BC, London.

AVRAM 1989 Avram, A., Gedanken über den thrakisch-geto-dakischen Adel, Studii Clasice, 26, 11–25.

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62 For example, the people from Transylvania may have translated their ‘Geto-Dacian’ ethnicity into using a sica and wearing a fibula with knots, while those from Moldova could have translated it just into using a ‘fruit bowl’. 63 Unquestioned by the Romanian archaeologists.

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List of figures: Fig. 1. Maximum expansion of the Dacians. Fig. 2. Important events in the existence of the Dacians. Fig. 3. Geographical map of Romania with important features marked. Fig. 4. The regions of Romania. Fig. 5. The three ‘images’ of the deceased. Fig. 6. The neighbours of the Dacians (map produced using Google Earth). Fig. 7. The location of the Orăştie Mountains and Sarmizegetusa. Fig. 8.1. ‘Sacred area’ of Sarmizegetusa (GHEORGHIU 2005, 349). 1 string; 2 wall; 3 paved road; 4 channel; 5 stairs; 6 temple with plinths;7 dismantled plinths; 8 stone pilasters; 9 hearth; 10 wooden pilasters; 11 threshold; 12 curb; 13 arrow of andesite sun; 14 andesite sun; 15 entrance platform; 16 terraces. Fig. 8.2. Great circular temple and rectangular temple from Sarmizegetusa (GHEORGHIU 2005, 345, 347). Fig. 9. Silver objects from Sărcsău hoard (GHEORGHIU 2005, 479). Fig. 10. The location of the Dacian burials and the zones they define. 1.Hunedoara–Grădina Castelului; 2.Călan; 3.Costeşti–Cetăţuie; 4.Cugir; 5.Tărtăria; 6.Blandiana; 7.Teleac; 8.Tilişca; 9.Poiana (Gorj); 10.Gropşani; 11. Sprâncenata; 12.Cepari; 13.Cetăţeni; 14.Orbeasca de Sus; 15.Lăceni; 16.Zimnicea; 17.Popeşti; 18.Radovanu; 19.Piscu Crăsani; 20.Brad; 21.Răcătău; 22.Poiana (Galaţi). Fig. 11. Categories of objects found in the burials from Transilvania. Fig. 12. Sicae found in burials. 1.from Blandiana (GHEORGHIU 2005, 509); 2. from Radovanu (VULPE 1976). Fig. 13. Sicae from Trajan’s column (after COARELLI 2000). Fig. 14. Categories of objects found in the burials from Muntenia and eastern Oltenia. Fig. 15. Plan of the area of Popeşti (after VULPE 1955). Fig. 16. ‘Fruit bowls’. 1–2. from Craiva (GHEORGHIU 2005, 405); 3–4. from Sprâncenata (PREDA 1986, 159). Fig. 17. Categories of objects found in the burials from Moldova. Fig. 18. Number of burials per time interval. Fig. 19. Cugir, objects found in tumulus nr. 2; 1–4 iron, 5 gold. (SÎRBU–ARSENESCU 2006, 181). Fig. 20. General view of the dava from Sprâncenata (PREDA 1986, 131). Fig. 21. The oak coffin found in the burial from Sprâncenata (PREDA 1986, 132). Fig. 22. Plan of Sprâncenata with the burial highlighted (after PREDA 1986, 16). List of illustrations: Illustration 1. Number of burials in each period/region. Illustration 2. The movement of the ‘wave’ of Dacia burials. Illustration 3. The reaction to the Roman pressure as suggested by the burial evidence. Illustration 4. The reaction to the battles for political control suggested by the burial evidence.