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The Byzantine Fortress at Isthmia, Greece and the transition from Late Antiquity to the Medieval period in the Aegean

Kardulias, Paul Nick, Ph.D.

The Ohio State University, 1988

UMI 300 N. Zeeb Rd. Ann Arbor, MI 48106

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THE BYZANTINE FORTRESS AT ISTHMIA, GREECE AND THE TRANSITION FROM LATE ANTIQUITY TO THE MEDIEVAL PERIOD IN THE AEGEAN

DISSERTATION

Presented In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy In the Graduate School of the Ohio State University

BY

Paul Nick Kardulias, B.A., M.A., M.A.

The Ohio State University 1988

Dissertation Committee: Approved by William M. Sumner, Chairman Timothy E. Gregory Jack M. Balcer Adviser Mark D. Fullerton Department of Anthropology ...Why don’t our distinguished orators turn up as usual to make their speeches, say what they have to say?

Because the barbarians are coming today and they're bored by rhetoric and public speaking.

Why this sudden bewilderment, this confusion? (How serious people’s faces have become.) Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly, everyone going home lost in thought?

Because night has fallen and the barbarians haven’t come. And some of our men just in from the border say there are no barbarians any longer.

Now what’s going to happen to us without barbarians? They were, those people, a kind of solution.

From "Waiting for the Barbarians” by Constantine P. Cavafy S t o u q yov.eic; fiouj, t o v repo Apocfo: h o c i t t ) v @eo6ooia, (xe aTretp-p ayaTtt) ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It Is Impossible to reach this stage in an academic career without having incurred numerous debts, intellectual and other. This is an appropriate forum to express my gratitude to the many people who have provided encouragement and assistance over the years. First and foremost, deepest thanks go to my parents, Drosos and Theodosia Kardulias, whose stress on education as the route to a better life was borne out of the hard realities of life in rural Greece. Their support through the years was unfailing. I only hope that I am worthy of the many sacrifices they made on my behalf. Numerous teachers contributed to my intellectual growth during my formal education. I would like to thank collectively the educators at Fifth Street Elementary School in Clairton, Pennsylvania, the 71st Demotiko Scholeio in Athens, Greece, the American Community School in Athens, Memorial High School in Campell, Ohio, and Tarpon Springs Senior High School in Florida. During my undergraduate years, and subsequently as an instructor, at Youngstown State University, I benefited from contact with a number of excellent professors, including Dr. John R. White, Dr. Gary F. Fry, Dr. James W. Kiriazis, and Dr. Mark Shutes in Anthropology, Dr. Saul Friedman, Dr. Leslie Domonkos and Dr. Jam es Ronda in History and Dr. Thomas Shipka and Dr. Brendan Minogue in Philosophy. I thank Dr. Charles Redman who offered me assistance In completing the M.A. degree at SUNY-Binghamton. Archaeological fieldwork has afforded me the opportunity to become acquainted with a number of fine scholars, many of whom 1 am privileged to call colleagues. Dr. Gary F. Fry and Dr. John R. White Introduced me to archaeology and were patient while I learned the basic skills. A summer of work in Illinois was enriched by the beginning of lasting friendships with Thomas L. Burge and Lisa Van Eysden. Dr. David Rupp was kind enough to let me join his project on Cyprus to gain experience in the Mediterranean. Dr. Curtis Runnels, Dr. Michael Jameson, Dr. Tjeerd van Andel and Priscilla Murray have made work In the Argolid and Thessaly both rewarding and pleasurable. I thank Dr. James Wright for permitting me to work for two seasons on the excavation at Nemea. Funds for the fieldwork at Isthmia were provided by The Ohio State University through a Research Seed Grant awarded to Dr. Timothy Gregory, a travel grant from the Center for Renaissance and Medieval Studies, and a Research Assoctateship from the College of the Humanities. I thank these administrative units and the Department of Anthropology for their financial support. In Greece, fieldwork was conducted under permits granted by the Greek Archaeological Service and the Sixth Byzantine Ephoreia. Our institutional affiliation in Greece was with the American School of Classical Studies in Athens, whose personnel handled the permit requests. The fieldwork on which this study Is based would not have been possible without the contribution of many volunteers. In 1985, students iv from Ohio State University and Kenyon College performed the bulk of the work in May and June. In July, 1985, Dr. Ralph von Frese and Dr. Stavros Papamarinopoulos generously contributed their time and equipment to the field efforts. Mette Korsholm, Rita Rousos, and Themis Phillppidis worked diligently under a scorching July sun. In 1986, the able field crew consisted of Caroline Seymour, A. Charles Mastran, Marianne Urse, and Peter Cole; their superb efforts provided the bulk of the data for analysis. Special thanks go to Michael Harsh whose electrical expertise salvaged a malfunctioning magnetometer. James Foradas has graciously permitted me to incorporate the data from his self-potential survey in this document. I also thank Jim for his assistance to a computer novice and for the encouragement to complete this dissertation in a timely fashion. The personnel in the Social Work Computer Lab, particularly Frank Snyder, have been most helpful and affable when faced with the invasion of their facilities by many anthropology graduate students over the past year. I feel a special obligation to the members of the dissertation committee. They have all demonstrated considerable forebearance with a student whose interests straddle three departments. Dr. William M. Sumner has read through the many drafts of this document with the careful eye of an astute editor. His insistence on clarity of thought and expression have contributed significantly to whatever coherence this work may possess. Dr. Timothy E. Gregory sowed the seeds for this thesis when he offered me the position as his Research Associate for the geophysical work at Isthmia. He has provided a steady guiding hand from the outset, both in v the field for two seasons and during the process of preparing the present manuscript. Dr. Gregory has been most accomodating In allowing a student trained In prehistory try his hand at historic archaeology; his openness to new ideas and methods bode well for the future of classical archaeology as practiced In Greece, and I hope he will find service for my talents, such as they are, In future work at Isthmia. I value his friendship as well as his abilities as a scholar and trust he finds this study a worthy result of the many discussions we have had over the contents. Dr. Jack M. Balcer has offered Incisive comments to guide the flow of the present work. In addition, his classes have vastly broadened my understanding of ancient history and gave me the background against which to assess the value of this dissertation. A number of penetrating questions put forth by Dr. Mark D. Fullerton have forced me to address basic Issues concerning the purpose and direction of the study and to make explicit the primary concepts; he has been able to convey to me some of his thorough knowledge of classical art and archaeology, thus providing much-needed background to a student Initially trained in New World prehistory. As part of the Committee on Classical Archaeology, these faculty members undertook a collaborative, Interdepartmental enterprise in directing and reading this dissertation. I would like to thank them all for their willingness to participate In this endeavor and wish them success In future efforts of this sort. I am fortunate in having a constellation of good friends who have both encouraged me and endured numerous descriptions and slides of vi archaeological work In the Aegean. My brothers, George and John, exhibit more than just passing sibling Interest In Inquiring about the progress of this work. The close ties created by numerous shared experiences have forged a bond that endures despite the distance that separates us. 1 derive great satisfaction from other friendships that have persisted over the years. Among the people whose trust and admiration I have cherished most are Robert Mangiarelli, Mark Cuva, Patrick Cunning, Anthony Romeo, Normand Caban, Steve Dubos, Leah Selple, Ida MacDonald Lambert, and Anthony Serluco. I thank them for their support and constant encouragement. To my boon companion, Caroline Seymour, I am most grateful for providing a deep and abiding friendship. Her care and concern for a graduate student undergoing the travails of preparation for general exams, research, and dissertation writing will never be forgotten. Hopefully, we can continue to explore new horizons together in the future. I would like to offer my deepest appreciation to Normand and Belen Caban for the many courtesies they have extended to me during my stay in Columbus. Their friendship has been demonstrated on more occasions than I can count. These few words are not adequate to express the deep sense of gratitude I feel towards all of these fine people. 1 hope that my actions In the future will in some way make up for the lack of full recognition In this context.

vil VITA

May 11, 1952...... Bom - McKeesport, Pennsylvania

1974 ...... B.A., Summa cum Laude, Youngstown State University, Youngstown, Ohio

1977 ...... M.A., History, Youngstown State University, Youngstown, Ohio

197 9 ...... Archaeological Field Assistant, Illinois State Museum and Ohio Historical Society

198 0 ...... M.A, Anthropology, State University of New York at Binghamton, Binghamton, New York

1980-1984...... Adjunct Faculty, Department of Sociology, Anthropology and Social Work, Youngstown State University, Youngstown, Ohio

1980-Present (summers) ...... Archaeological Team Leader, Brock University Palaiapaphos Survey, Stanford University Argolid Survey, Nemea Valley Archaeological Project, Korinthia Exploration Project

viii PUBLICATIONS

1983 Ethnoarchaeology In Greece: The Stanford Modern Site Survey. Old World Archaeology Newsletter VII(3):22-23. With Priscilla Murray.

1984 Non-Bottle Glassware. In Archaeological Excavations at the Barnhlsel House. Girard. Ohio by John R. White. Manuscript on file the Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Youngstown State University. Pp. 64-72.

1985a Analysis of the Kern Effigy (33WA372) Llthlcs: A Fort Ancient Affiliation. Mldcontlnental Journal of Archaeology 10:3-19. With John R. White.

1985b The Dynamics of Razing: Lessons from the Barnhlsel House. Historical Archaeology 19:65-75. With John R. White.

1985c Lithlc A rtifacts from Southern Greece: A Short Report on the Argolid Survey. Old World Archaeology Newsletter IX(2):6-8. With Curtis Runnels.

1986 A Modern Site Survey In the Southern Argolid, Greece. Journal of Field Archaeology 13:21-41. With Priscilla Murray.

1987a The ‘Traditional’ Craftsman as Entrepreneur: The Ermlonl Potter. In Farmers. Shepherds, and Sailors: The Ethnography of the Southern Argolid. edited by Susan B. Sutton. Submitted to Stanford University Press.

1987b The Politics of Dispute Settlement: A Game Theory Analysis of the Debate between the Annunciation Church and Preservation Groups in Columbus, Ohio. Submitted to Occasional Papers In Anthropology No. 4. Dept, of Anthropology, The Ohio State University. ix FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field: Anthropology

Studies In archaeological theory and ethnoarchaeology (Dr. William M. Sumner, Dr. Richard Yerkes)

Studies In Roman and Byzantine history and archaeology (Dr. Timothy E. Gregory)

Studies In Greek history and Bronze Age archaeology (Dr. Jack M. Balcer)

Studies In Greek and Roman art and archaeology (Dr. Mark D. Fullerton)

x TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS...... iii

VITA...... viii

LIST OF TABLES...... xiii

LIST OF FIGURES...... xiv

INTRODUCTION...... 1

The Problem...... t Theoretical Perspective...... 12

CHAPTER PAGE

I. METHODS...... 23

General Information ...... 26 Grid Layout ...... 27 Surface Survey ...... 28 Geophysical Methods ...... 33

II. THE SITE AND ITS SETTING...... 52

The Natural Setting-Geology...... 52 The Natural Setting-Topography...... 56 History of the Site ...... 60 Previous Work at the Site ...... 85

III. THE DEBATE OVER THE TRANSITION FROM LATE ANTIQUITY TO THE EARLY BYZANTINE PERIOD ...... 101

Introduction ...... 101 xi The Debate in the Literature ...... 103

IV. PRESENTATION AND ANALYSIS OF DATA...... 130

Geophysical Data ...... 130 Surface Survey ...... 151 General Discussion ...... 182

V. INTERNAL CORRELATIONS: DEVELOPMENTS AT ISTHMIA ...... 191

VI. EXTERNAL CORRELATIONS: ISTHMIA AND THE AEGEAN REGION...... 212

Introduction ...... 212 The Historical Problem of Byzantine Urban Goliapse or Continuity ...... 212 Isthmia in the Aegean Setting ...... 223 Conclusion ...... 226

VII. CONCLUSIONS...... 228

Methodological Conclusions ...... 228 Archaeological Conclusions ...... 231 Historical Conclusions ...... 236 A Model for Social Change in the Aegean Region ...... 242

REFERENCES CITED...... 249 LIST OF TABLES

TABLE PAGE

1. Breakdown of material from 1985 surface collection. Sample unit size 1 m2, sample interval 5 m north-south, 10 m east-w est...... 317

2. Breakdown of material from 1986 surface collection. Sample unit size 1 m2, sample interval 5 m north-south and east-west ....319

3. Comparison of 1985 and 1986 surface collections ...... 321

4. Population estimates for the Isthmian Fortress in LR to EB periods ...... 322 LIST OF FIGURES

FIGURES PAGE

1. Map of Greece showing location of Isthmia ...... 271

2. Site Plan of the Isthmian Sanctuary of Poseidon ...... 272

3. Plan of the Isthmian Fortress showing the location of extant Medieval walls ...... 273

4. Plan of Fortress showing area covered by magnettometry in 1985 and 1986 ...... 274

5. Dot-density image of magnetic readings in the Fortress. Contour interval -10 nT and minimum reading -44,900 nT .... 275

6. Dot-density image of magnetic readings in the Fortress with various features labeled ...... 276

7. Plan of extant Medieval walls in the southeastern corner of the Fortress ...... 277

8. Dot-density image of magnetic readings in the southeast corner of the Fortress. Contour interval is =2nT ...... 278

9. Contour plot of 1985 magnetic readings in the Fortress. Contour interval =2 nT ...... 279

10. Dot-density image of magnetic readings taken near the Roman Bath in 1986. Contour interval -20 nT in a ., 50 nt in b ...... 280

11. Dot-density image of magnetic readings taken near the eastern end of the Hexamilion in 1986. Contour interval =2 nT in a.,3 nT in b ...... 281 xiv 12. Area covered by electrical resistivity survey in the Fortress In 1985 ...... 282

13. Contour plot of electrical resistivity readings in the Fortress Contour interval =50 ohm-m ...... 283

14. Area covered by electrical resistance survey in the Fortress in 1985 ...... 284

15. Contour plot of electrical resistance readings in the southeast part of the Fortress. Contour interval =50 ohms ...... 285

16. Contour plot of electrical resistance readings in the churchyard. Contour interval is 50 ohms ...... 286

17. Location of self-potential profiles in the Fortress in 1986 ...... 287

18. SP profile of Line 1 ...... 288

19. SP profile of Line 2 ...... 289

20. SP profile of Line 3 ...... 290

21. .SP profile of Line 4 ...... 291

22. SP profile of Line 5 ...... 292

23. SP profile of Line 6 ...... 293

24. Comparison of first and third sets of SP readings for Line .5 .... 294

25. Comparison of second and third sets of SP readings for Line 5.295

26. Area covered by surface survey in the Fortress in 1985 and 1986 ...... 296

27. Three-dimensional representation of distribution of surface artifacts from 1985 collection ...... 297

28. Three-dimensional representation of distribution of surface artifacts from 1986 collection ...... 298 xv 29. Contour plot of surface artifact distribution from 1985 collection ...... 299

30. Contour plot of surface artifact distribution from 1986 collection ...... 300

31. Distribution of Gassical pottery in the Fortress, N-23 ...... 301

32. Distribution of Hellenistic (N=12) and Gassical-Hellenistic (N=18) pottery in the Fortress ...... 302

33. Distribution of ER pottery in the Fortress, N= 161 ...... 303

34. Distribution of LR pottery in the Fortress, N-884 ...... 304

35. Contour plot of LR pottery distribution in the Fortress. CI=2 ..... 305

36. Distribution of LR pottery relative to geophysical anomalies and extant Medieval walls in the Fortress ...... 306

37. Distribution of Slavic pottery in the Fortress, N-13 ...... 307

38. Distribution of EB pottery in the Fortress, N=31 ...... 308

39. Distribution of LB pottery in the Fortress, N=228 ...... 309

40. Distribution of coins in the Fortress, N=3 ...... 310

41. Distribution of beehive fragments (B, N-17), glass (G, N-22), water pipe (W, N-5), slag (S, N-5), lamps (L, N-5), iron (I, N-1),bronze (BR, N= 1), nail (N, N= 1), kiln support (K, N=1), and waster (WS, N=1) ...... 311

42. Distribution of LR fine ware in the Fortress, N=80 ...... 312

43- Contour plot of rooftile distribution in the Fortress. CI=5 ...... 313

44. Distribution of architectural stone in the Fortress. Marble, N=140; revetment, N=70; tesserae, N=13; cut stone, N=7 ...... 314

45. Plan of Fortress showing extant walls and reconstructed buildings for military occupation in LR and EB periods ...... 315 xvi INTRODUCTION

THE PROBLEM Discussion of the transition from Late Antiquity to the Early Byzantine period In the Aegean region has focused on the fate of Classical urban culture. Scholarly opinion is divided as to whether the Classical polls and Its constitutent Institutions (a governing boule or council composed of aristocratic land-owners, a monetary economy, elaborate public works, a complex hierarchical social structure) emerged Intact from the disruptive events of the third to sixth centuries AD. Some argue the collapse of city life devastated the social fabric of antiquity and left In Its wake smaller settlements devoid of the refinements of Greco-Roman civilization. Other scholars see an unbroken historical thread connecting all of Greek history. The present study examines the Byzantine Fortress at Isthmia with an eye to understanding social change In this critical period, first from a site-specific level and then at a regional level. The site of Isthmia In the northeastern Peloponnesos of Greece has occupied a strategic location since antiquity (see Figure 1). Situated at the southeastern corner of the Isthmus of Korlnth, It commands the major land route from central to southern Greece. Virtually all land traffic into and out of the Peloponnesos had to traverse the Isthmus in the vicinity of 1 2 this site (Wiseman 1978:50-51). Perhaps in part due to this geographic prominence, Isthmia enjoyed an international reputation in antiquity as one of the four major Panhellentc sanctuaries. The Temple of Poseidon and the associated complex of public facilities, including other temples, a stadium, baths, and a theater (see Figure 2), attracted visitors from all parts of the Greek world, and later, from many areas of the Roman Empire, to engage in multi-facetted festivals. The biennial Isthmian Games were just one of a number of events celebrated there. The predominantly ceremonial nature of Isthmia underwent significant alteration in the fourth and fifth centuries A.D. The construction of the Hexamllion, a defensive wall stretching the entire breadth of the Isthmus from the Gulf of Korinth to the Saronlc Gulf, signalled a shift In orientation. The long wall was anchored on either end by a bastion or small fort, with a large fortress just east of the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia acting to house a major garrison. The scale of this project was such that it is best defined in terms of a grand strategy of defense for the entire northeastern Peloponnesos, if not the whole of southern Greece. Beyond this immediate goal, there Is evidence that the construction of these fortifications formed part of an empire-wide strategy of containment (Cheetham 1981:15-16). Over the succeeding centuries, the Fortress and Hexamllion were occasionally refurbished In order to meet various military threats. In the Interim periods, the site continued to be occupied by people who took advantage of the stout walls of the Fortress to provide solid housing. 3 The Medieval component of Isthmta Is not well known. As a result of the nature of archaeological investigation in Greece the stress has been on the early periods, i.e., Bronze Age and Archaic through Hellenistic, with less of a focus on the Roman and subsequent phases. Excavations of purely Byzantine sites are even fewer in number. Even where Byzantine remains represent a large portion of the material in a multi-component site these have regularly been treated in a cavalier manner, often hastily removed to gain access to what are deemed the more interesting and significant ancient materials. To verify this general statement, one merely needs to examine the monograph series published by the excavators of major sites in Greece, such as the Athenian Agora and Korinth. Whereas analyses of the various ancient materials fill numerous volumes, Byzantine elements are often treated in an abbreviated manner, even though the Medieval time frame is nearly as long as that for antiquity. In many Instances the problem is that the material is less well known than is the case with earlier artifacts. In some ways, scholars of Late Roman and Byzantine archaeology are still building a corpus of material that can serve to answer some very basic questions about life in the Eastern Empire, both at the outset, when It became a distinct political entity, and later. isthmia fits this general trend of research. As with many other sites In Greece, Isthmia provides an opportunity to trace out in some detail the evolution of a complex settlement history that covers a long time span. The nature of the site and the tradition of archaeological fieldwork in Greece are such that the focus of work at Isthmia has been on delineating the architectural sequence evident in the remains of the Sanctuary. The 4 Archaic through Early Roman phases of the site are rather well documented in this respect. The excavations begun in 1952 had the express purpose of locating the Temple of Poseidon and associated structures and facilities around which the ceremonial activities of the ancient sanctuary were centered. In addition, Interests focused on the Hexamllion and Its attached Fortress. The second phase of excavation from 1967 to 1978 paid more attention to these prominent fortifications, but work concentrated only on the perimeter of the walls. Although perhaps more work has been given over to the Byzantine remains at Isthmia than at any other major multi-component site in Greece, there still is a substantial gap in our knowledge of the nature of the settlem ent In the Medieval period. This Is not an unusual state of affairs in Greece where Byzantine archaeology takes a back seat to prehistoric and classical research. Consequently, comprehension of the nature of Byzantine social dynamics, especially in the crucial early period, is at a grossly Immature stage. Questions amenable to discussion in terms of culture process are only recently being asked, using archaeological data to fill lacunae 1n the historical record. In several Instances, such work has led to significant revision of historical Images provided solely by texts. In dealing with Late Antiquity and the Early Byzantine period, scholars occasionally operate In a data void, placing vartous pronouncements beyond the pale of verification. A key aspect of the present study is to provide a data base that can be of use in a site-specific sense, but that also tenders the possibility of application to more general problems. 5 In order to begin filling in the rather sparse image of Byzantine Isthmia, further fieldwork has been conducted with the purpose of concentrating on the later portions of the site. Previous work at the site, in addition to revealing the Classical sanctuary, also investigated numerous other spots. All of the digging and the limited survey work turned up only scanty remains for the Byzantine period, except near the fortifications. The focus of the Medieval occupation seems to have been in and around the Fortress and along the Hexamilion. Since the Fortress is Imperfectly known, an effort has been made recently to gather more data about this facility. However, this is not a haphazard effort. The research is directed specifically towards comprehending the configuration of features in the Fortress because these will enable one to assess the level Of cultural activity by comparison with the excavated areas that have substantial exposures of ancient remains. It is clear that Isthmia is a transitional site, but the nature of the transformation cannot be understood if only the ancient component Is available for scrutiny. The concept of transition is central to this study. The issue involves how to examine culture change In the past. Key questions Include the following: Does social change tend to be abrupt, with new technologies, modes of behavior, and ideas becoming dominant in a brief period of flux? If this is so, what are the causes for such revolutionary changes? If, on the other hand, culture change is gradual how do we account for the dramatic differences that seem to characterize periods separated by short time spans? What Is the role of the Individual in social change? These and other related questions have consumed historians and anthropologists for decades. The model of social change adopted In this study 1s evolutionary or developmental In form. Change occurs through the accumulation of cultural Innovations that feed off each other, expanding the cultural realm at a geometric rate. This does not mean, however, th at change occurs only through the Interplay of historical forces or trends. While It Is true that humans do not act in a cultural void, they also must be seen as Independent actors and Innovators. Humans are the agents of social change, not just the media for the expression of Inanimate cultural processes. This study characterizes transition as an on-going process of change, directed by humans towards some perceived benefits. Isthmia, with Its long history, provides a good setting to examine the problem of transition or social change In the Aegean region. I suggest that the entire sequence of occupation at Isthmia is amenable to an evolutionary treatment, that the periodization applied here and elsewhere In Greece Is useful as an heuristic tool, but it often belies the complex relationships that tie events together. However, the focus of this study Is the transition from Late Antiquity to Early Byzantine at Isthmia. This site offers good evidence for these phases and can aid in resolving some of the Issues concerning the shift that occurred at the end of antiquity (see Chapter III). Such an approach can be applied to earlier periods as well, for which evidence at the site Is more abundant, but these phases will not be dealt with In the context of th is study. Isthmia obviously underwent some changes between Late Antiquity and the Early Byzantine period. At the most visible level, this Involved the shift from the religious and athletic focus to a military orientation. At a 7 deeper and more meaningful level, serious questions of a systemic nature remain to be answered. While it was a viable center, the ancient sanctuary operated as an appendage of a complex urban culture, tied closely to all the facets of the latter (i.e., social, economic, religious, ideological). The Fortress also served as a cog in a large system, but the nature of that system and the role of such sites in it is much less clear. To initiate such a systemic investigation requires a knowledge of the function of the Fortress as a settlement; in turn, to comprehend its use, the physical character of the Fortress must be known. With this level of comprehension established, some effort can be made to relate the site to the imperial structure of which it was a regional manifestation. In terms of function, if the Early Byzantine Fortress contained, for example, few intramural structures, this might suggest its use as a refuge or point of assembly in times of duress. If, on the other hand, there are many substantial structures present with specialized activities represented (e.g., chapels, pottery kilns, forges, stables) the evidence might suggest a permanent garrison. In the former case, locals could have provided the bulk of the fighting contingent, while in the latter scenario, the central government could be viewed as taking a much more active role in local defense. The basic question of who the defenders were and what their relationship to residents of the area was can begin to be examined in this fashion. Literary sources fail us in the search for such information concerning Isthmia. Therefore, archaeological investigation Is not only appropriate but crucial in this context. Because of the necessity to examine a broad area of the site to answer such questions, the means of conducting this Investigation was by way of geophysical prospecting and systematic surface survey. Such an approach to research permits more rapid gathering of data than does excavation and has a proven vlablility in helping to address broad questions. Field work was initiated In the spring and summer of 1985 and concluded the following summer. An array of techniques (magnetometry, electrical resistivity, electrical resistance, and self-potential) were brought to bear in an effort to delineate the configuration and extent of subsurface features. The different techniques were employed In an attempt to obtain corroboration, so that the data from any single approach need not stand alone. In addition, the results of each method could be compared to determine which were most appropriate In the context of a structurally complex historic site In a Medlterrranean setting. Accompanying this geophysical examination, a surface survey was conducted in each of the two field seasons. The purpose of these collections was threefold: 1) to discern surface patterns of artifact distribution which could then be compared to the locations of features revealed by the geophysical survey and thus pinpoint activity loci; 2) to develop a clearer understanding of the time depth represented by the collections and thus to comprehend the sequence of occupation in terms of length and intensity; 3) to define the various formation processes (Schiffer 1972,1976,1983,1987) that have contributed to the present condition of the site. All of this work may serve as a guide to future excavation or the present study can stand independently in the attempt to gain a greater 9 understanding of the Byzantine sections of isthmia and the question of transition, isthmia is one of the few major sites in Greece where the Medieval component has been explored to a considerable degree. However, this earlier investigation was undertaken to address only a few specific questions about the Medieval occupation, for example the date of the fortifications. The present study attempts to deal with problems of a site-specific and a general nature. The site-specific questions concern how use of the site changed through time. Since prior work left many gaps in knowledge of cultural activity within the Fortress, the initial focus is on site layout and function. Once the extent and Intensity of Byzantine occupation at Isthmia is determined, another concern will be to place the site in its larger cultural and historical setting. The degree of planning and the outlay of labor manifested in the original construction of the Hexamilion and the Fortress, and the subsequent modifications, indicate the site was incorporated into a regional defensive scheme, substantiating the literary evidence of Procopius (Buildings. IV, 2, 1-28) and others. Perhaps, then, the site continued to be an urban apparatus, an outlier in a city-centered settlement hierarchy, and would have been sensitive to shifts or breaks in the cultural system th at produced and supported It. In this light, Isthmia can be viewed as a barometer to test the degree to which urban institutions survived the end of antiquity. A major debate has been under way for some years among scholars over how to characterize the period of transition from Late Antiquity to Early Byzantine. Some have argued the decline of the Western Roman Empire so reflected itself in the East by a concomitant decay of urban life fostered by a variety of factors. This perspective holds that few cities escaped this disruption intact, and those that did shed the major characteristics of ancient centers as reflected in fundamental changes in architecture, city planning and size, and social organization. Those who contend that there was a fundamental continuity between the two periods represent the other side of this controversy. These scholars argue that although cities did suffer from various exigencies, their basic nature remained intact and that the Early Byzantine period was primarily an urban culture as had been the case in Late Antiquity. A site such as Isthmia is well suited in some ways to act as evidence toward resolving this controversy. Although never a city itself, Isthmia was an extension of an urban culture when the Sanctuary was its major feature. As a ceremonial center, it attracted large crowds from various poleis and was supported through most of its history by the city of Korinth. Since it was in a dependent status, and not an absolute necessity to the community that supported it, one can imagine it being pruned from the urban trunk if conditions warranted a retrenchment. Isthmia can thus be viewed as a relatively sensitive gauge of prosperity for an urban culture, an indicator of the overall health of the city life to which it was closely tied. The degree to which the Byzantine remains can be interpreted as representing the presence or absence of urban traits in this fashion will determine which side of the controversy the evidence from Isthmia tends to support. 11 Overall, this study focuses on three problems at different levels of abstraction: 1) A descriptive problem- gathering more information about the Medieval occupation at Isthmia; delineating the structural features of the Byzantine Fortress with the ultimate intent of comprehending site functions through time. 2) A methodological problem- the use of geophysical techniques to examine the subsurface of the Fortress and other selected spots to obtain the data necessary for proper description. Part of this problem is to determine the efficacy of the various techniques in the context of a complex historic site with substantial stone architectural remains. Contributing equally to the elucidation of the nature of the Byzantine component are data from previous excavations and intensive systematic surface survey. 3) A broader historical problem- how best to reconstruct the key events pertaining to the transition from Late Antiquity to Early Byzantine. The methodological element becomes the link between the gathering of site-specific data and the wider historical implications for that information. The structural format of this essay is based on a topical arrangement of the chapters. Chapter I deals with the methodology employed, with archaeological fieldwork highly integrated with the use of previously published material concerning the site. Chapter II provides an overview of the site, including local geology and topography, a history of the site, and a review of archaeological investigation at Isthmia. Chapter III details the historical debate over the nature of the transition from Late Antiquity to Early Byzantine. The analysis of the field work, detailing the results of the geophysical and surface surveys, is presented in Chapter IV. In Chapter V, these data are used as the basis for determining the structural regime of the Fortress in the fifth century AD.; the internal correlations of the various features are examined in terms of what they reveal about site usage in this period. Chapter VI evaluates the external correlations for Isthmia, to assess the role of the site in helping us understand the transition from Late Antique to Medieval society in the Aegean region. Methodological, archaeological and historical conclusions gleaned from the preceding chapters are summarized in Chapter VII. In addition, a model for social change at Isthmia and in the Aegean region is proposed in Chapter VII. As a backdrop to the entire study, in the next section there will be a discussion of cultural materialism as the underlying theoretical perspective.

THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVE The next question to address is how to tie together the rather variable functions that evidently characterized the area in and around the Sanctuary of Poseidon at different times in its history. If the obvious elements are in fact the most telling and the site served primarily a religious function in the first part of its career and a secular military one later in time, there is the problem of explaining the reasons for such a shift. In other words, a unifying perspective is required to assist in conducting this investigation. The approach employed herein is that of cultural materialism as developed and espoused by Marvin Harris (1968,1979). This outlook has provided a fruitful method by which to examine a variety of problems, including the origins of state society (Harris 1979; Haas 1982), and social enigmata 13 (Harris 1966, 1974, 1977). In its search for nomothetic, generalizing laws to explain social phenomena, cultural materialism attempts to deal with human behavior on a universal, cross-cultural scale. The following discussion is not a critical reevaluation of this approach, but rather a descriptive exegesis of its fundamental premises to which I subscribe. Harris’ concern is to present a “basic research strategy" which has parallels to the theory of biological evolution developed by Darwin. As he has stated:

I believe that the analogue of the Darwinian strategy in the realm of sociocultural phenomena is the principle of techno-environmental and techno-economic determinism. This principle holds that similar technologies applied to similar environments tend to produce similar arrangements of labor in production and distribution, and that these in turn call forth similar kinds of social groupings, which justify and coordinate their activities by means of similar systems of values and beliefs. Translated into research strategy, the principle of techno-environmental, techno-economic determinism assigns priority to the study of the material conditions of sociocultural life, much as the principle of natural selection assigns priority to the study of differential reproductive success. The strategy in question will at once strike the sensitized reader as a form of materialism, and, indeed, I shall refer to it ...as the strategy of "cultural materialism" (1968:4).

Harris leaves no doubt as to what he perceives to be the ultimate motivating factors behind human behavior:

The essence of cultural materialism is that it directs attention to the interaction between behavior and environment as 14 mediated by the human organism and its cultural apparatus. It does so as an order of priority in conformity with the prediction that group structure and ideology are responsive to these classes of material conditions. (1968:659). Thus, cultural materialism provides a programmatic statement that allows one to pinpoint the crucial components underlying social life. Ideological elements such as religion and philosophy are clearly secondary in nature and derivative in function from the more concrete aspects of culture, centering on technology and economics, especially subsistence. This perspective is based on "...the premise that human social life is a response to the practical problems of earthly existence" (1979:ix). Humans are seen as engaged in an on-going attempt to ameliorate their environment or to deal with demographic pressure by means of expanding the potential of the environment through the process of intensification, i.e., increased exploitation of available resources in response to ecological shifts (both natural and cultural). As defined by Harris, cultural materialism is opposed to strategies that deny the legitimacy or feasibility of scientific accounts of human behavior, and is also against perspectives that begin with ideals, moral values, aesthetics, or religious beliefs in an attempt to comprehend the routine of regular social life. In this context he deals with the emic-etic distinction. Research guided by an emic perspective uses concepts and categories meaningful to the members of the group being studied to explain cultural phenomena. The etic perspective employs concepts and categories meaningful and appropriate to the observer as a basis for such explanation. In other words, in the etic perspective the researcher imposes meaning on 15 the data by means of the analytical approach used. Harris opts for the etic perspective as an analytical tool (Harris 1987:16). Furthermore, he attempts to improve Marx's original strategy by disposing of the Hegelian dialectic of contradictory negatives and adding reproductive and ecological variables to the examination of material conditions studied by Marxism. Harris states that the primary concerns are with the systemic interactions between thought and behavior, with conflict and discontinuity, but only as these can be examined as empirical and operational features (Harris !979:ix-xii). Harris proceeds to lay out the theoretical principles of cultural materialism. These principles are concerned with the problems of understanding the relationships among the parts of sociocultural systems and with the evolution of these systems. The recurrent aspects or parts of such systems he calls the universal pattern, which has three major subdivisions: Dlnfrastructure-comprised of the activities by which every society meets its basic subsistence requirements (mode of production) and by which every society controls population size (mode of reproduction). 2)Structure-comprised of economic and political activities by which every society forms groups to allocate, regulate, and exchange labor and goods. Domestic economy refers to the organization of basic production and reproduction, exchange and consumption within camps, houses, or other domestic settings. Political economy refers to the organization of these same activities within and between bands, villages, chiefdoms, states and empires. 3)Superstructure-comprised of thought and behavior concerned with artistic, playful, religious, and intellectual efforts, plus the mental 16 aspects of infrastucture and structure (Harris 1987:17). These are the basic aspects of a research strategy that holds anthropology’s task is to provide causal explanations for the similarities and differences in thought and behavior exhibited by various human societies. This task is best conducted by examining the material constraints that delimit human activity (Harris 1987:421). With this foundation laid Harris proceeds to discuss other major principles of cultural materialism. A key one states: "The etic behavioral modes of production and reproduction probabilistically determine the etic behavioral domestic and political economy, which in turn probabilistically determine the behavioral and mental emic superstructures...this principle can be referred to as the principle of infrastructural determinism" (Harris 1979:55-56). in other words, Harris is arguing for the preeminence of behavior related to the mode of production and the mode of reproduction in understanding human motivation and the flow of historical events in any society. All economic behavior emerges from this material basis, with the Ideological component (political philosophy, religion, etc.) forming a third and most derivative stratum. The significance of this principle is that it provides a set of priorities for formulating and testing of hypotheses about the causes of sociocultural phenomena. Cultural materialism gives the highest priority to efforts to formulate and test theories in which infrastructural variables are primary causal factors. This perspective asserts the strategic priority of infrastructural over structural and superstructural conditions and processes. However, it does not deny the possibility that superstructural and structural components may achieve a 17 degree of independence from infrastructure. There is an attempt to build a theory of culture that incorporates the lawful regularities occurring in nature. There are two entrenched laws humans must face. First, people must expend energy to obtain energy. Second, the human ability to produce children exceeds the ability to obtain energy for them. Harris suggests that the best humans can do is to seek a balance between reproduction on one hand, and the production and consumption of energy on the other. He then argues that cultural evolution, like biological evolution, has occurred through opportunistic alterations that increase benefits and lower costs to individuals. Success of a group depends on the success of the individuals that comprise it (Harris 1979:56,60). The implications of this thesis for the understanding of past human societies center on the notion that most people engage in activities that they believe will enhance their material position in the world. Ideology is also part of such a survival strategy. Those individuals who adopt strategies yielding the greatest returns can be termed successful because of the advantages they garner for themselves, their kin, and their followers. Cultural materialism provides the overarching philosophical or theoretical framework within which data for this study were gathered and analyzed. Ancillary to this perspective, several notions embodied in anthropological economics are components in the orientation which guides interpretation below. These ideas deal with the basic elements of human behavior. The formalist school of thought argues that humans are motivated primarily by self-interest. Decisions are made on the basis of choice from an array of options; the determining principle in such selection is the desire to maximize benefits and minimize costs, which is presented as the rational process by which all choices are made. With rationality as a cornerstone, formalists define economics as "...the allocation of scarce means to alternative ends” (Burling 1962:802). In other words, resources at the disposal of people are limited while the desired ends to which they may be applied are many. The assigning of resources to any particular goal is based on the interests, real or perceived, of an individual or group with the power to implement their wishes. The rewards for which people strive can be material (money, goods, services) or immaterial (status, prestige, privilege). The latter, however, can usually be translated into the former at some stage. The substantivist school argues that the formalists are imposing a capitalist bias on non-Western societies when such arguments are employed (Polanyi 1957; Dalton 1961). These scholars tend to stress the immersion of the economic system in the culture as a whole, which is a unique historical entity. Culture provides the rules by which humans act; the rationality argument, they contend, is cogent only in a Western context. Formalists on the other hand view culture as an emergent, something that is constantly shaped by individuals acting in a social setting; the rules are created by the actors rather than providing a set plan as the substantivists suggest. Leaving the polemics of each camp aside, this study follows the formalist perspective. Not only is it compatible with cultural materialism, but it follows through on its basic premise in some instances, carrying the notion of rational economizing behavior to all social interaction (Homans 1965). In so doing, it provides a comparative tool with which to assess within one framework the actions of different people separated by 19 geographical, cultural, and temporal boundaries. The basic assumption is that human nature is a constant, no matter what the society or time period. In this way it shares a nomothetic outlook with cultural materialism. The materialist, rationalist perspective represented by Harris and the formalists provides a comparative framework that attempts to transcend differences of time and space. In this regard, events that transpired at Isthmia in various periods can be examined in a uniform fashion. Although activities at the site varied in the different historical eras, these events can all be understood in terms of people carrying out actions they deemed to be most likely to provide the greatest benefits. For example, the establishment of the Sanctuary and its embellishment conferred certain advantages on residents of Isthmia and neighboring communities, including employment in construction, maintenance and servicing of the facilities, the economic windfall resulting from the celebration of festivals drawing large crowds with the concomitant demands for food, drink and lodging, and the prestige associated with a Panhellenic center. It is little wonder that several poleis vied for the honor of controlling this Sanctuary. By the fifth century A.D., political, religious and economic conditions dictated a new scenario. Survival was best served by the construction of fortifications, and to expedite this activity many of the structures in the Sanctuary were dismantled to provide building material. Rather than viewing this event as symbolic of the disaffection with pagan religion, reflected in the irreverent treatment of sacred edifices, it may be more profitable in some ways to suggest that people were still acting in essentially the same way by attempting to maximize their potential for survival. The expression of 20 the adaptive strategy changed because other environmental (cultural, in this case) factors had altered. Perhaps in this way the span of events at Isthmia can be viewed as an evolving pattern of adaptation by the residents. The use of such anthropological approaches on material from Isthmia is in itself a novel development. Until quite recently, most archaeological work in Greece has followed a classicist orientation, with excavation serving the role of handmaiden to historical and literary documents in describing ancient life. The traditional emphasis on monumental architecture (especially temples, historic civic centers, and prehistoric palaces) and artifacts as aesthetic objects is clearly manifested in general texts such as those of Biers (1980) and MacKendrick (1981). In the past twenty years, a dramatic reorientation has been occurring with anthropological techniques becoming increasingly important, although by no means dominant. This shift is evident in the sophisticated level of regional survey work that integrates information from geomorphology, sedimentology, oceanography, palynology, and faunal analysis with archaeological data (McDonald and Rapp 1972; Renfrew and Wagstaff, eds. 1982; Rupp and Keller, eds. 1983; Bintliff and Snodgrass 1985; Gregory 1985a; Van Andel and Runnels 1986,1987; Cherry and Davis, personal communication 1985), the proliferating number of ethnoarchaeological studies (Matson 1972; Aschenbrenner 1976; Chang 1981; Murray and Chang 1981; Murray and Kardulias 1986), and the use of models to explain a variety of cultural phenomena, including economic behavior (Runnels 1981,1985) and the development of complex society in the Aegean (Renfrew 21 1972a; Cherry 1978; Halstead 1981). A regional synthesis of some sort is often the goal of such studies. Although there does exist a substantial amount of published material on the site of Isthmia, no general synthesis or regional approach characterizes any of this work, although seme effort has been made in this direction for the Korinthia by Salmon (1984). In addition, anthropological methodology and perspective have played virtually no role at Isthmia. This study is in part an effort to redress this oversight, and by so doing, to •enhance our understanding of the site itself and its role in a regional and international settlement system. The purpose of this study is to attempt a synthesis which examines the site in an holistic manner rather than presenting the various temporal components as unique. Thus, the notion of transition is treated as the evolution of adaptive strategies. As mentioned above, although the entire occupational sequence at the site can be treated in this way, the focus here is on Late Antiquity and the early Medieval phase. The fieldwork was structured to address questions associated with this particular transformation. A broad general synthesis that explains the emergence of Medieval culture in the Eastern Mediterranean would require the comparative examination of data from a great number of sites, many of which are not currently reported in the literature, and is beyond the purview of this study. As a result, the level of the synthesis attempted below is in the middle range, concentrating on Isthmia to better understand the sequence of events at a specific site but with some effort to envision the larger context as well. In pursuit of this goal, this researcher was afforded 22 access to both published and unpublished materials. These data provide the necessary foundation for detailed analysis and as such form the springboard from which this study departs. CHAPTER I METHODS

The research component of this study has two basic facets. First is the examination of the published material, dealing with Isthmia at one level, and with the larger issue of how to characterize the Late Roman-Early Byzantine transformation, at another level. This part of the research involves a detailed perusal of the relevant literature. Although there is a substantial body of published material on both Isthmia and the continuity-discontinuity issue, a distinct link between this site and the larger problem has only recently been made. An important goal of this study is to explore further this connection, to use Isthmia as a test case to examine the phenomenon on a local level. To do this, a thorough review of the literature concerning Isthmia is necessary to lay a foundation upon which an exegetical framework can be elaborated. A substantial portion of the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia has been excavated. The various reports from these investigations provide a body of data that are crucial to reconstructing the sequence of events at the site. Such a history has been pieced together, but due to the emphases of the various excavators, much more is known about the use of the site in Antiquity than about events there in the Medieval phase. It is at this level of discussion where previous work at the site falls somewhat short 23 24 of what is required to undertake the analysis envisioned here. Nonetheless, the literature is an integral part of the research effort. Second, to supplement the information garnered from the literature review and to provide a more secure context for evaluating the larger issue, additional fieldwork was undertaken in 1985 and 1986. This facet of the study involved geophysical exploration and surface survey, primarily within the confines of the Byzantine Fortress at the eastern edge of the site. Some limited investigation also was conducted near the Roman Bath and at the eastern end of the Hexamilion several km from Isthmia. The prime concern of this fieldwork has been to obtain a more detailed picture of the Byzantine occupation of the site so that substantive statements about the nature of the Medieval settlement can be made. Beyond this level, the enhanced understanding of the site will permit comparison with other Byzantine settlements and thus allow an evaluation of its status on a continuum. An assessment can then be made of the degree to which Isthmia continued to be the product of an urban society. Even though the site Itself may not qualify as a city, its existence depended on close alliance to an urban center at Korinth and on the continued operation of a network for communication and exchange, elements of an urban culture that persisted in Greece, albeit in an altered form. Indeed, in some ways, the fact that Isthmia was not Itself a city makes it a better example for the continuity of urban traditions into the Medieval period. If city life did in fact cease to exist at this time as some have suggested, the first to feel the effects of such a transition would be the urban outliers, those sites whose very existence is dependent on the center. The cost of 25 maintaining ties to what may be seen as extraneous communities could well have dictated abandonment of this relationship. If, on the other hand, such ties continued to be nurtured, there would be some reason to argue that the structure of urban society was maintained, although its nature may have been altered somewhat. Under such circumstances, the outlier communities may have survived as independent agricultural villages. These two facets of the research obviously complement one another. Although a substantial amount of excavation occurred near the Medieval fortifications, especially in the period between 1967 and 1978, this work focused on dating the defensive walls. Consequently, very little is known about the interior layout of the Fortress, an understanding of which is crucial to defining its role in a regional defensive scheme and as a manifestation of an urban culture. The geophysical field work provides the means to gain such knowledge. In conjunction with the geophysical exploration, systematic surface collections were taken in each field season to provide an Independent body of data about the remains within the Fortress. In lieu of excavation, the surface survey offered a means of checking on the geophysical results by correlating inferred features with concentrations of artifacts. The implementation of this field strategy is described below, beginning with some general information, followed by the layout of a grid, the collecting of surface samples and the geophysical operations. Each section concludes with a short discussion of the means employed to analyze the data so collected. 26

GENERAL INFORMATION Field work was conducted at Isthmia for a total of six weeks In the spring and summer of 1985 and seven weeks In the summer of 1986. These Investigations were undertaken through permits granted by the Greek Archaeological Service to the American School of Classical Studies at Athens In the name of Prof. Timothy E. Gregory, Department of History, The Ohio State University. In the field we operated under the auspices of the American School, the official sponsoring agent for all archaeological work undertaken by Americans in Greece. Facilities available to us Included the excavation house and the site museum, both of which are adjacent to the site In the village of Kyras Vryst and which also offerred good comparative collections of artifacts. The excavation house was the repository of all equipment, Including a Zenith Z-100 Portable Personal Computer. Work crews consisted primarily of student volunteers from Ohio State Universtly and Kenyon College, with several other Institutions also represented, Including the University of Athens. The author served as field supervisor and Prof. Gregory as director. Collaborative technical assistance was provided by Prof. Ralph Von Frese, Department of Geology and Mineralogy, The Ohio State University, and Prof. Stavros Papamarinopoulos, Department of Geology and Geophysics, University of Patras. Funding was provided by The Ohio State University through grants from the Office of Research and Graduate Studies, the College of Humanities, and the Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies. 27

GRID LAYOUT In order to facilitate the Implementation of fieldwork, a grid was established within the walls of the Fortress. Since the entire site had previously been mapped, a series of benchmarks (metal pins in cement) had been set in place. One such pin in a block on the northwest side of Tower 5 was designated the datum point (point 0,0 on a Cartesian plane). A north-south baseline was shot In with a pocket transit. Using a 30-m tape, a metal surveyor’s flag was placed every ten meters along this line, beginning at the datum point and heading in each direction. Next, a line running due east from the datum point was established by following the same procedure. With these reference lines laid in, the expansion of the grid was simply a matter of sighting in lines perpendicular to known points at the 10-m Intervals. The entire area of the olive orchard covering the southern half of the Fortress was so marked. Prior to Initiating geophysical work, the metal surveyor’s flags were replaced with wooden stakes to prevent the Intrusion of extraneous signals during the magnetic prospecting. At the end of the 1985 field season, all of the wooden stakes were removed except for three running north from the datum point, and five heading south from ONorth-lOWest. In addition, the farthest extent of each baseline was marked with fluorescent red paint on the paved asphalt road that enters the Fortress near Tower 13 and curves northeast to the church of St. John, before exiting through a breach next to Tower 2. This process of marking aided In relocating key points In 1986 for reestablishing the grid to resume 28 field work. The grid was reinstated in July, 1986 for the purpose of completing the magnetometry survey and to conduct a test of the self-potential method. Once this work was concluded, key points again were marked to aid in future efforts to relocate grid coordinates.

SURFACE SURVEY In both 1985 and 1986, a systematic surface collection initiated the field work procedures. The goal of these collections was to determine the density of artifacts on the ground surface within the Fortress and to assess the variation in terms of material and chronology exhibited by the artifacts gathered. Artifact density on the surface has been used as an indicator of subsurface concentrations of cultural material and as a demarcator of activity foci within sites. Some empirical substantiation for this archaeologically Intuitive given has been provided by Redman and Watson (1970), who demonstrated that the horizontal spatial attributes of artifacts on the ground are rather well correlated with the distribution of artifact clusters and features beneath the surface. Differences in material and temporal affiliation of the surface artifacts are also significant. The former can Indicate functional differences in various areas of the site while the latter provides a general time range around which to hang these activities. The relative abundance of material from one period or another suggests more Intensive use of the site during that time. Distinct localized concentrations of materials from different periods may indicate a shift in the use of various parts of the site through time. The absolute frequency (total raw count) of the different artifacts by category may suggest the relative importance of the activities associated with those items. When comparing different materials, this element may be misleading because of differential breakage patterns. For example, a single ceramic vessel is likely to shatter into many more pieces than a grinding stone, so that simple frequencies or percentages can be misleading. The ubiquity of various artifacts measures the degree of areal spread over the site and may be an index of generalized as opposed to specialized function. Artifact density refers to the degree of concentration of material at particular loci and can be a measure of the intensity of activity over space. The varying combinations or permutations and intensity levels of these attributes are tied to certain basic assumptions about the relative significance of the artifacts. Those objects that exhibit high frequency, high ubiquity, and high density would represent the largest and in many ways the most important categories since they dominate the inventory; this combination can also reflect the most mundane, utilitarian types. A low frequency-low ubiquity combination could express one of several extremes: a) if it is prosaic material, a low level of use due to insignificant contribution to the total lifestyle; alternatively, such circumstances may reflect a temporal problem, with low frequency perhaps indicating earlier deposits of which only a small portion find their way to the surface; b) if it is finer material, perhaps this distribution represents an unequal low level spread on the basis of its scarcity, suggesting privileged access and hierarchical distinctions among occupants of the site; c) it may also be the result of limited occupation of the site in 30 certain periods. In addition to such basic assumptions, a series of second order behavioral correlates can be derived from these varying combinations. For example, a high frequency, high density, low ubiquity distribution may Indicate locations of specialized activity. Categories exhibiting high frequency and high ubiquity (most notably rooftiles) reflect the most common material elements and undifferentiated activity, at least In a general sense (e.g., widespread distribution of rooftiles at a high frequency suggests a number of roofed structures throughout the Fortress, but does not necessarily reveal the functions of such buildings). A complicating factor that undoubtedly affected the nature of the surface artifact assemblage Is the use of fill from elsewhere at the Sanctuary to level the ground at the eastern edge of the Fortress at the time of the latter’s construction. This activity introduced a set of intrusive artifacts with no direct link to the functioning Fortress. As such, this episode constitutes an Important formation process that will be considered both In Its own right and In terms of how It affects the Interpretation of the results from the surface survey. The Initial surface survey was conducted in May, 1985 and the second In July, 1986. A systematic sampling procedure was employed in which a series of 1-m2 units were marked out at 10-m and 5-m Intervals In 1985 and 1986, respectively. Within each sampling square, all artifacts were collected and counted according to categories within each material type. For example, for ceramic materials distinctions were made between bricks, rooftiles, loomweights, artificial beehives, and pottery. The pottery was 31 further divided Into fine wares and coarse wares, with temporal/cultural affiliations assigned when such could be determined. Only the pottery could be treated In such an exhaustive fashion because of Its diagnostic nature. The subdivision of other ceramics remained necessarily at a relatively gross level and this was generally true of other material categories. Stone could be subdivided into building material and ground and flaked lithics, with only the few decorative architectural members affording any relatively secure dating. in each season the total area availabe for surface collection was ca.

21,000 m2 This constitutes 115% of the total area of ca. 27,100 m2 (2.71 hectares) enclosed by the circuit walls. Sections that could not-be included in this procedure were the churchyard, the cemetery, and three fenced areas, one between Tower 15 and Tower 13, another around the South Gate, and the last near the Northeast Gate, where excavation had occurred. In

1985, 1.4% of the Fortress interior was sampled while in 1986 2.1% was so examined. In each case, artifacts were collected within each sampling unit, counted, and recorded. All the material was left in the field with the exception of coins, and several pieces of pottery of uncertain date that were returned to the excavation house for cleaning and closer examination. The fine comparative collections in the excavation house and the site museum made appropriate identification a much simpler proposition than it might otherwise have been for these problematical pieces. The sampling strategy was designed to provide extensive coverage of the Fortress. The number of individuals involved at any one time varied from three to seven, making for narrower or broader transects since the 32 field workers operated abreast of one another. Each member of the survey staked out a square and examined the ground closely, using a trowel to clear vegetation and to dislodge artifacts visible on the surface but partly embedded in the dry earth. Determination of artifact types was made by each fieldworker as material for each square was sorted for counting and recording. Any possible diagnostic items and questionable pieces were set aside to be examined by Prof. Gregory or this author. Total time required to conduct the survey in this fashion was 10 days in 1985 and 18 days in 1986. The analysis of the data generated by this procedure has been undertaken with the assistance of the SURF 2 program on an IBM-compatible personal computer. This program contours data in several ways. It can create net maps that simulate a three-dimensional portrayal of data with highs and lows represented by peaks and valleys, respectively. The angle of presentation can be rotated to provide the best view and reveal the most relief. In addition, traditional contour maps can also be created In which the contour lines represent specified numbers of artifacts. The graphic displays provided by this program allow for a rapid yet detailed visual assessment of the surface collection data. These maps can be compared to plots generated for the geophysical techniques to see how artifact distribution matches up with magnetic and electrical anomalies. In addition, each category of diagnostic pottery and architectural stone has been hand plotted on individual maps of the Fortress to provide a quick comparative reference for the distribution of these key Items. 33 GEOPHYSICAL METHODS In order to obtain data to assess the level of activity at Isthmia during the Early Byzantine period, a variety of geophysical techniques were employed. The methods used include magnetometry, electrical resistivity, soil resistance and self-potential. The intent was to obtain information about the size, configuration, and orientation of subsurface features. Cultural elements create disruptions or anomalies in the natural field, whether electrical or magnetic. The various instruments employed are capable of detecting such anomalies and provide powerful tools for assessing the nature of the remains without excavation. The use of different methods permitted an assessment of the efficacy of each in the examination of a structurally complex site. In addition, each procedure has idiosyncratic limitations; the use of several in the same area would help to overcome the constraints of any one method. Magnetometry. The primary technique used in both field seasons was magnetic prospecting. This procedure has been utilized in an archaeological context since 1958 (Aitken 1978) and has gained in popularity as equipment has become more readily available and as archaeologists have gained an appreciation for its potential. Although the operation of the equipment is quite simple, the operational theory behind it is quite complex but is summarized here to provide an appropriate backdrop to subsequent discussions. Magnetometry relies for the source of its signal on the presence of the earth's magnetic field that is aligned with the magnetic north pole (Weymouth 1986:34). This natural field exists due to the dynamic nature of 34 the earth’s fluid outer core. Every point in the magnetic field has an intensity and a direction (Rapp and Henrickson 1972:236). The key features of this field resemble what would be generated by a bar magnet placed at the earth’s center. The field is altered by the current system near the core-mantle interface and by variations in the magnetic properties of the rocks forming the mantle and crust. The field that is produced varies only gradually in time and space. However, overlain on this smooth basic field are irregular minor variations that are of interest from the archaeological perspective (Aitken 1974:207). A small distortion in the local magnetic field results from concentrations of rocks, soils, and iron objects magnetized by the earth’s field. An important consideration is the degree of soil magnetization, called magnetic susceptibility, which depends on the intensity of the field and the properties of the soils involved. The sources of this susceptibility are iron compounds in soils, primarily hematite, magnetite and maghaemite. Soils can be ranked in ascending order of susceptibility, with those containing limestone and unbaked clays at the lower end, followed by subsoils, topsoils, and finally heated soils, fired clays, and volcanic rocks. The top end of the scale can be 100 to 500 times as susceptible as the bottom portion (Weymouth 1986:342). Another crucial feature is that some objects that initially exhibit little or no magnetization can have th is property instilled. Induced magnetization occurs when such an object is placed in a field that imparts some of its properties to the item. If the object retains some residual effect when removed from the field the magnetization is referred to as remanent. Thermoremanent magnetization Is Imparted by heating an object; the iron particles so freed align themselves with any available field and preserve the new orientation upon cooling. Because all soils possess some degree of magnetic susceptibility, the key in understanding what produces anomalies is to view the problem in terms of the contrast in this property between features of interest and the surrounding soil matrix. There are both natural and anthropogenic causes for such contrasts. Hematite, with a lower susceptibility, can be altered to magnetite, exhibiting higher values, by reduction. Fermentation or burning may be responsible for this changeover. Human intervention leading to enhanced contrast includes the creation of trash pits and middens with much organic. material, filling ditches with topsoil, and the intrusion of structures that differ from the soil matrix in basic components. In addition, the presence of fire hearths, kilns, burned house remains, and bricks also provides a significant magnetic contrast (Weymouth 1986:342-343). In many instances the disturbance in the magnetic field caused by archaeological features is relatively minor and requires a sensitive instrument to detect the shift. The proton magnetometer is most commonly employed for this purpose in an archaeological context. The protons in a proton-rich liquid such as alcohol or decane act as tiny magnets, rotating quickly around an axis. As magnets, the protons tend to become oriented in a magnetic field, but their gyroscopic rotation causes them to precess or wobble while slowly aligning with the field. The frequency of the precession is precisely proportional to the strength of the magnetic field. In operation, a polarizing current passes for several 36 seconds through a 1000- to 2000-turn coil wound around a bottle of liquid. When the current is terminated, the protons in the liquid gyrate at a speed proportional to the field strength, thus generating a tiny voltage that is amplified and measured (Rapp and Henrickson 1972:236). The magnetic anomalies derived by this equipment have certain characteristics. When a feature or target has greater magnetic susceptibility than the surrounding soil, it establishes its own local magnetic field. This induced field (a dipole field) replicates that of the earth on a smaller scale. The local field combines with the earth's to produce a normal dipole anomaly. In mid-northern latitudes, such as Greece, the maximum value of the dipole plotted as a profile is displaced to the south of the source by about one-third the target to sensor distance. If the susceptibility of the feature is less than that of the soil matrix, the anomaly is negative. If the feature is long, narrow, and cylindrical, e.g. a deep pit, the anomaly produced is a monopole with a weak low region (Weymouth 1986:344-345). Walls, the chief type of feature sought at the Fortress, generally have low magnetization in comparison to the surrounding soil. As a result, the main anomaly associated with buried walls is a reverse one, i.e., there is a drop in magnetic readings. There should also be at least one road in the Fortress. Ancient road deposits, however, are often too thin to create much of an anomaly; yet, Bronze Age roads in Cyprus and Roman roads in England had sufficient thickness to be easily detected by magnetometry (Aitken 1974:232-233). There is, then, the possibility of detecting the presence of a road in the Fortress if it is composed of substantial material. A key problem that demands attention is the fluctuation in the earth’s magnetic field, which occurs regularly throughout the day. This diurnal variation results in constant shifts in field intensity, which decreases quickly during the early morning after dawn, reaches a low point at midday, and then increases during the afternoon and night. There tends to be more fluctuation during the summer than the winter (Aitken 1974:209-210). In addition, occasional flareups in solar activity cause field intensity to fluctuate dramatically. Several options are available to counteract this problem. If two magnetometers are used in the field, one can be set up to take regular readings automatically to monitor the changes in field intensity at one place during the day. The second instrument can serve as a roving reading head for actual prospecting. Readings from the reference point can be plotted and data from the roving instrument can be adjusted (reduced) accordingly so that the fluctuations in the field intensity can be filtered out. Any anomalies that appear will then be due to features in the ground rather than diurnal variation. If only one instrument is available, a base station is established as the check point and is visited periodically. A series of readings are taken there at regular intervals during the survey to monitor the activity of the field. The process of reduction is then the same (Weymouth 1986:346-348). Field Operations. The magnetic survey constitutes the bulk of the field research. It was initiated in May, 1985 and continued in July of that year. The purpose was to cover the entire interior of the Fortress except the churchyard, cemetery, and areas enclosed by wire fence. A second season of work was necessary to accomplish this goal. In July, 1986, time in the 38 field was split between conducting a second surface survey and completing the magnetic survey. The instrument used in this endeavor was a Geometries G-856 Proton Free Precession Magnetometer with a storage capacity of 1225 readings. In order to obtain a clearer picture of subsurface features, intensive coverage was implemented in the Fortress. A series of grids of varying dimensions were examined, with readings taken at 1m intervals. The Initial effort in May, 1985 covered five areas (four 20x20 m, and one 10x10 m). These were positioned in different parts of the site in an attempt to explore what seemed to be archaeologically sensitive locations; three of these units encompassed fragments of visible walls. In July, 1985 field work aimed at filling in the gaps between these previous units in order to provide a large block of surveyed territory. These efforts resulted in a large rectangular (90x50 m) area of coverage, with a 10x20 m section appended on the northeast, and an independent 20x20 m unit 85 m to the north near the Northeast Gate. Transects within these units (a total of seventeen) ran in the direction of the longest dimension along grid lines; wherever in situ wall remains were visible, an attempt was made to have transects intersect them. As a result of these contingencies the transects in some units were oriented east-west and in others north-south. A base station was set up in the center of this large rectangular area and served as the reference point for all field readings, except the one unit near the Northeast Gate for which a separate base station was established. Each morning the intensity of the magnetic field was monitored for twenty to thirty minutes with three readings taken every five minutes. If the readings proved to be relatively stable over that time period, the team began the regular survey routine. One individual took readings with the magnetometer and stored the numbers in the machine’s memory. A second individual recorded all the readings on special forms as these were called out. One or two other workers moved the tapes that marked the stations for each transect. The direction of the transects alternated at the end of each line. Every twenty-five to thirty-five minutes, the operator returned to the base station to take three diurnal readings, then resumed surveying. At the end of each grid, the magnetometer was returned to the excavation house where the memory was dumped onto a diskette on a Kaypro 2x personal computer. In 1986, a Zenith portable personal computer served in this capacity of data repository. Under this work regime, field operations commenced in the southeast corner of the Fortress, with a total of 5,100 m2 surveyed in 1985. Readings were taken at 1-m intervals "within the designated square being surveyed, with the reading head at a height above ground of 0.5 m. This spacing and height would permit detection of small-scale anomalies in the range of five to ten nT (von Frese, personal communication 1985). Several problems surfaced during the 1985 season. The first tripod used to hold the reading head proved to be slightly magnetic, thus invalidating the data collected while utilizing it. Of the 1700 m2 surveyed with this tripod, 800 m2 were later resurveyed with a new, totally non-magnetic stand. As a result of this difficulty, there are several areas with Irregular readings that represent extraneous "noise" in the contour map for the first season’s work. A second difficulty arose in July when the 40 RS-232 cable used to transfer data from the magnetometer memory to the Kaypro personal computer malfunctioned. This necessitated the hand entry of readings from the data sheets to diskette, a process begun in Greece and completed at Ohio State in the fall of 1985. In 1986, magnetic surveying resumed, beginning in the southwest portion of the site. The area remaining to be covered extended along the western edge of the site for a distance of 180 m. This large L-shaped area was divided into smaller units for surveying. Station interval was again 1 m and the height of the reading head 0.50 m. All transects ran in a north-south direction. Several base stations were established during the survey to facilitate access, as only one instrument was available for use. Diurnal checks were made every twenty-five to forty-five minutes, depending on the rate of fluctuation noted during the day. As the result of familiarity with the equipment and a more portable stand for the reading head, recording speed was considerably enhanced over the previous year. A total of 9,958 m2 was examined in a period of 15 days employing a crew of three to five individuals. This work included all open areas within the Fortress walls, five transects near the Roman Bath ca. 300 m west of the Fortress, and two 10x15 m units in the area where the Hexamilion Wall disappears under the canal dump several km east of Isthmia. Data Display. The interpretation of the data retrieved by magnetic surveying has been greatly facilitated in recent years by the availability of computer programs specifically designed to handle the complex manipulations often required to obtain good results. The Department of Geology and Mineralogy a t Ohio State University has developed a suite of 41 programs for use on mainframe hardware to accomplish this. These include programs to remove the diurnal variation and filters to screen out extraneous data. The WYLBUR communication package is used to write the data onto mainframe files. Subsequently, maps can be plotted on the Versatec Electrostatic Printer that contours planar data matrices. In addition, Geometries, Inc. of California, a major manufacturer of magnetometers, has developed software to perform rudimentary reduction and to plot dot density maps on IBM or IBM-compatible personal computers. Both of these sets of programs are employed in displaying the data from Isthmia, in preparation for analysis. The personal computer used is a Zenith Z-100. Electrical Resistivity.This technique has seniority over all other geophysical methods in terms of archaeological applications, first being used in this manner in England in the 1940s (Parrington 1983). Since that time it has become a common feature of the repertoire of methods utilized for site exploration in Europe and North America. A major advantage of electrical resistivity is that it is not affected by local disturbances that would play havoc with magnetic surveying, e.g., the presence of automobiles and other modern metal sources, or electrical power lines. Application of this technique involves the insertion of four metal probes into the ground. The probes are connected to a m eter and an alternating current source by electrical wire. Current is applied to two probes (inducing probes, often designated by I) and the resultant flow of electricity is measured as the potential difference in voltage between the other two probes (potential probes, P or V). In general, resistivity 42 surveying measures the electrical resistance (or its reciprocal, conductivity) of the soil in a restricted volume near the surface. In other words, an index is obtained of how easily current flows through the ground. Factors that determine soil resistivity include soil structure, dissolved ion content, and amount of moisture (Weymouth 1986:318). When the interstices in soil or rock are filled with water containing a high percentage of dissolved salts and/or humic acids of biological origin, the flow of current is facilitated. Hard compact rocks, such as granite and sandstone, tend to be poor conductors. Porous limestone is much better in this regard, but it still provides more impedance than soil, sand, and clays (Tite 1972:25). The structure and porosity of the soil also play a role. The total volume of pores determines the amount of water uptake, and the configuration of pore connections affects the flow of current through the soil. When the earth is saturated with water, resistivity depends substantially on the connectivity of the pores. If the soil is dry, the degree of water retention of smaller pores is crucial. The unit for expressing soil resistivity is the ohm-meter (Weymouth 1986:320). Anthropogenic factors that can influence the degree of soil resistivity include the construction of large stone features (e.g., foundations and cellars), the creation of humus, and various activities that contribute to soil compaction or aggregation. Walls and foundations generally cause resistivity readings to rise. The direction in which factors such as cellars and degree of soil compaction alter the natural resistivity depends on local climate. The addition of layers of humus tends to reduce resistivity because of the greater ion content in the soil (Weymouth 1986:320-321). 43 Voids caused by features such as uncollapsed tombs or kilns produce low resistivity readings (Rapp and Henrickson 1972:236). The shape of the anomaly that is recorded depends on the configuration of the probes. The most common arrangement in archaeological applications is the Wenner array in which the four electrodes form a straight line with an equal distance (a-spacing) between each. The two outer probes are the inducing probes and the two inner ones measure the current flow. This array gives a double peak anomaly as it passes over a single source; this complicates interpretation, but the Wenner array is still preferred because it is the easiest to use in the field, necessitating the transfer of only one probe for each new reading. The point at which resistivity is being measured is in the center of the array, i.e., at the midpoint between the inner potential probes. The a-spacing is often set at a length equivalent to the depth to the target, if this distance is known (Rapp and Henrickson 1972:323). If the a-spacing is not large enough, little current will reach the target, making it difficult to detect. If the distance is too large, small features are masked since they form only a fraction of the total volume that is reached by the current. The value of the resistivity that is acquired reflects conditions beneath the potential probes to a depth approximately one and one-half times the a-spacing (Tite 1972:27,29). Field Operations. All electrical resistivity work was conducted in May and July, 1985. The instrument used was a Strata Scout R-40 Resistivity Meter. A concerted effort was made to cover areas that were the subject of magnetic exploration. By this means, independent verification for each 44 method was possible. Since this technique was viewed as supplemental to the magnetic prospecting, complete coverage of the interior of the Fortress was to be attempted only if time permitted. The labor-intensive nature of this work made it less efficient than magnetometry and so it was not pursued in the second field season. Resistivity work focused on the central and southern part of the site. Four large areas were delineated between the south wall of the Fortress and the paved road at about the 60N line. Of these, three were completed and the fourth started before equipment failure ended this part of the investigation. Readings were taken with probes aligned in a Wenner array with an a-spacing of 2 m. Profile transects up to 50 m in length were run in a north-south fashion, beginning along the east-west baseline as a departure point. The transects for Area 1 ran to the north of this baseline, between 50W and 86W and reaching up to 48N. Area 2 transects ran south of the baseline, between 10W and 50W, down to 485. Area 4 also lay south of the baseline, between 52W and 84W, to 485. Area 3 lies north of the baseline, with transects between OE and 16E, reaching from 42N to 70N. Distance between transects was 2 m, so that they all ran along even-numbered grid lines,e.g. the 54W, 56W, and 58W lines were all surveyed. An area of 5,632 m2 was surveyed by electrical resistivity in 1985, forming a squat "L“ with the long side near the western edge of the Fortress and the short section to the south and east. No further resistivity work was conducted in 1986 because of the smaller size of the field crew (six for geophysical and surface survey, compared to as many as twenty for these operations in 1985) and the lack of dependable equipment. With 45 operations at a much reduced scale, the strategy was to focus efforts on magnetometry. Operation of the resistivity meter proved to be both labor intensive and cumbersome. To work most efficiently, a crew of six people was required, one handling the instrument, one recording the readings, and one manning each of the four probes. As a reading was taken, the last probe was leapfrogged to the front of the array, so that only this one had to be moved each time, except when a new transect was started. An alligator clip at the end of each electrical lead facilitated the transfer of wires from probe to probe for each reading. Whenever fewer than six people were engaged in this work, the pace declined noticeably. The bulky nature of the meter also proved to be something of a problem in transfering it from station to station. The use of state-of-the-art equipment would eliminate some of these problems. Despite these logistical problems, electrical resistivity surveying has certain definite advantages over magnetometry. Key among these is that readings are not subject to distortion by extraneous sources (i.e., metal, power lines, heavy solar activity), nor is any diurnal correction required. Since additional water in the soil can reduce resistivity, surveying after rainstorms is not recommended, but this poses little trouble in a Mediterranean climate during the spring and summer. Another advantage is that its long use in archaeological contexts has proven its reliability in detecting cultural features. In addition, this method is especially appropriate for delineating walls and foundations, which are of major concern at Isthmia. When such structural elements are made of the same 46 material as the soil matrix, there is no magnetic contrast, but the resistivity meter is still able to discriminate the features from their natural surroundings (Weymouth 1986:341). Data Display. The presentation of resistivity data can be accomplished in several ways. Individual profiles can be plotted or contour maps can be drawn that encompass the whole area in question. Only the latter approach will be followed below because of the interest in obtaining an image of the entire area of coverage for comparison with the results of the other techniques. An overall map of the surveyed area will be employed, in order to exhibit the spatial relationships among various anomalies and how these may relate to specific cultural features. The PLTCON contour procedure, a FORTRAN program, is used to generate the larger map. Soil Resistance. This technique is based on the same principles as electrical resistivity, and thus a discussion of the underlying theory can be dispensed with here. The property it measures is, in fact, a component of soil resistivity. The distinction between this method and electrical resistivity is a fine one, based on the specific soil characteristics being examined. The derivation of soil resistance is necessary to the computation of soil resistivity, and is stated in ohms. As with electrical resistivity, four electrodes are used, two to transmit an alternating current through the ground and two to monitor the potential drop across the constant gap between them. The use of special feedback circuits in the meter assures the valididy of earth resistance readings up to 50,000 ohms (Stonefield Service Company n.d.:3). This technique has been applied successfully in Greece at Stymphalos and Mytilene (Williams 1984; 47 Papamarinopoulos et al. 1985). Resistance readings can vary according to the array employed while resistivity is more of a standardized measure. However, raw resistance readings can be of use because variations in the measurements are the focus of concern. Field Operations. A limited soil resistance survey was undertaken in July, 1985. A Bradphys MK 4 Earth Resistance Meter was made available by the British School of Archaeology at Athens through application of Prof. Stavros Papamarinopoulos of the University of Patras Department of Geology who graciously offered to direct this field work. The implementation of this survey differed significantly from the electrical resistivity prospecting in the nature of the probe array. A twin probe array was adopted in which one inducing and one potential probe of the same polarity are placed 1 m apart in the ground at a substantial distance from the area to be surveyed. A generous length of electrical cord led from these probes to the meter. The latter was initially mounted on the upper of two horizontal parallel wooden cross bars,one of which was ca. 15 cm above the ground and the other at about waist height. These bars were kept apart by two long metal probes inserted through holes at both ends of the wooden pieces, forming a portable frame. The probes have handles at the upper ends, allowing for easy transport around a site. These probes, with their pointed lower ends inserted into the ground, served as the other pair of electrodes; they were 1 m apart and the reading point was in the middle, marked by a line on the lower wooden bar. The entire apparatus could be positioned over the mark on a grid, pushed into the ground and a reading taken in a shorter time than is typical for electrical resistivity. However, 48 the considerable amount of stone rubble in the plowed interior of the Fortress made this approach untenable. The frame was set aside and metal probes were individually hammered into the ground to obtain proper contact. What would ordinarily have been a two-person operation worked best with three individuals under these circumstances. This survey was viewed as supplemental and therefore covered a restricted amount of the site. It was undertaken by individual squares, ideally measuring 20x20 m, but shortened in some instances due to physical obstacles. The station interval was 1 m. Two contiguous squares were examined in the southeast part of the Fortress, in the same area surveyed by magnetometer and electrical resistivity meter. This provided coverage of an area 20 m (east-west) x40 m (north-south), a section with visible evidence of wall remains. Two other contiguous, but somewhat shortened, squares were examined just north of the church of St. John, adjacent to the north wall of the Fortress. Magnetometry in this area held out little hope for good results due to the number of buildings and metal debris in the vicinity. The long axis in this case was east-west. A total of ca. 1,120 m2 was examined with the Bradphys meter over a period of ten days. The equipment was not available in 1986 and thus no further work was undertaken along this line. Data Display. Without the need to deal with diurnal variations or to perform conversions the resistance data could be immediately placed in a format for plotting purposes. The printing of contour maps was accomplished through use of the same procedure employed to plot magnetic data. The maps were processed on the Versatec Printer. Anomalies appear 49 as concentrations of high readings. Corroboration will be sought between the anomalies illustrated by all the methods, but the comparability of results between electrical resistivity and soil resistance will be of particular interest since they examine similar elements in only a slightly different manner. Self-Potential (SP). This method was used at Isthmia on a limited experimental basis. Its viability is questioned in geological applications, and has only recently been tested in an archaeological context (Wynn and Sherwood 1984). The technique is based on the detection of natural current flows in the earth. It was initially devised to locate ore bodies, which act as sources of electric current when they experience oxidation. Water percolating down from the surface laden with oxygen contacts a sulfide ore body creating a large galvanic cell with a positive pole at the upper end of the deposit. Potential differences at ground level derive from the size and shape of the ore body, its depth below the surface, and the electrolytic properties of the m aterials involved. Most commonly, the current flows down through the ore body, then out and-upward through the soil. On the surface, the current, measured in millivolts, flows toward a "negative center" above the target. This point can be located by several techniques, including: 1) measurements of earth potentials at evenly spaced intervals, followed by tracing of equipotential contours, or 2) taking profile readings that intersect the body in question. The key to the method, however, is the spontaneous polarization that certain features in the ground undergo. An additional Influencing factor may be the difference in pH level of solutions near the surface to those at some depth (Jakosky 1950:444-445). 50 In an archaeological context, the main source of measured voltages is the streaming potential, i.e., "...the preferential absorption of specific ions out of a rock or soil mass as water slowly moves through it" (Wynn and Sherwood 1984:198). As fluids percolate downward, they leave a negative charge at ground level. Archaeological features, such as buried stone walls, affect the measured SP since a 30lid body would block the vertical water flow, creating a SP voltage positive over the feature. A negative reading would result from an unconsolidated stone feature that does not inhibit fluid motion (Wynn and Sherwood' 984). The key problem with this technique is that a variety of sources can produce a SP effect and it is often difficult to discriminate among them (Telford 1976:458). Field Operations. The use of the SP method at Isthmia was an effort to assess the validity of a low-cost geophysical technique. The equipment is inexpensive, consisting of a Radio Shack Volt Meter, 20 m of electrical wire, several alligator clips, and two porous pots. The latter are hollow plastic cylinders, with a layer of plaster poured in to close one end. Copper strips are inserted into the plaster before it hardens to act as terminals. A solution of copper sulfate is placed in the pots; as the liquid seeps through the plaster, contact is made with the soil. These pot/electrodes are linked to the volt meter by the wire and clips. The SP survey was undertaken in July and August, 1986, at slack times in the other field operations. Two areas were selected for testing, one in the southeast corner and the other in the center of the Fortress. In each case, transects were run across visible walls and then in adjacent lines where no walls could be seen but were postulated to exist below the surface. A total of four 10-m transects were run in the southeast corner of the Fortress, along 19W (Line 1) and 15W (Line 2), between 405 and 305, and along 35S (Line 3) and 37S (Line 4), between 10W and 20W. The electrodes were placed 1 m apart, equidistant on either side of the tape marking the grid line, and were allowed to equilibrate for one minute before taking a reading. Both pots were then moved to the next station, at 1 m intervals. In the other section, station interval in the 10 m transects (Line 5 along 15W and Line 6 along 12W, between 50N and 60N) was also 1 m, but the electrodes were moved in a leap-frogging fashion. Each method of electrode movement proved to be equally time-consuming. Data Display. Due to the restricted nature of this investigation, a relatively small number of readings were generated. These data have been plotted to graph the transect profiles. This rudimentary sort of data presentation is sufficient to deal with the information on hand, as it reveals the nature and extent of any anomalies. Any further data manipulation does not seem warranted by the limited scope of this effort. These various archaeological field methods form the data recovery scheme for the present study. The geophysical techniques were implemented in an effort to determine the number and size of Medieval structures within the Fortress. Surface survey provided chronological and functional data that aid in interpreting the nature of the site in the Late Roman-Early Byzantine period. All the data are presented and analyzed in Chapter IV. To provide an interpretative framework for the field information, the history of the site is detailed in the next chapter. CHAPTER I! THE SITE AND ITS SETTING

THE NATURAL SETTING-GEOLOGY The Isthmus of Corinth presents a complex geological picture. The earliest deposits whose origins are ascertainable are Neogene in age. There are a variety of fault blocks In the area that reveal aspects of the local geology. Among these is the Charalambos block, which dips down from south to north. This block has a lower Cataract-Series with fresh-water fossils, and an upper Marl-Series with a variety of fossils whose environment ranged from fresh to brackish water. Rock types evident in this sequence are conglomerates, marls, and various sands. The Cataract-Conglomerate derived from cycles of rough rubble banks carried into a lake basin from the south; It thins out to the north. Subsequent to this rubble accretion there occurred the more gradual sedimentation of sands, marls, and thin lignite deposits. As Is typical for the Neogene elsewhere In Greece, the soft white marl series suddenly replaces the Cataract Conglomerate. The Marl Series has integrated into it the sand accretion of the Colored Series and a sequence of olive-green sandstones. The Colored Series take the shape of a sandy deltaic fan th at was brought periodically from the south into the sea of marls when water 52 53 conditions were rougher. In more placid periods, the deposition of marls characterized the entire region. The diagnostic fauna In the respective marls and sands conform to this thesis of fresh-water Intrusion. The area of the Isthmus, then, may have been an estuary, or a fresh-water or saline coastal lake, bounded on the south by high ridges (von Freyburg 1973:12). Following the deposition of the Colored Series, activity again reached a level permitting conglomerate accumulation (Katunlstra Conglomerate), succeeded by marls (Asprochomata Marls), Intermixed with sand marls and some sand banks; outcrops of the latter extend to the Sarandapotamos Valley. This whole sequence may be up to several hundred meters thick. The Korlnthian Marl, reaching to Akrokorinth and Mt. Oneion, also developed at this time. Most of the marls are marine in origin and Indicate a period of advancing shorelines. Overall, the Neogene sequence in the Isthmus begins with fresh-water deposits, continues with lithic series reflecting alternating saline and fresh-water conditions, and concludes In the Pliocene with marine Ingression. In the areas bordering the Isthmus, the bedrock was only occasionally subject to erosion, after tectonic uplifting. At other times, the soil cover prevented all but the finest materials (sands, suspensions, chemical solutions) from being washed out and contributing to the brackish and fresh-water lakes (von Freyburg 1973:12-18). The Pleistocene. The earliest Pleistocene deposits belong to the Kalamaki Strata, comprised of the Calabrlum and Apscheron beds. The cyclical sedimentation observed In Neogene deposits continued In the Kalamaki sequence and Is In part evident In the change from coarse to fine sediments, which resulted from the transition to a fresh-water from a 54 marine environment; this may reflect a process of silting up. The early marl In this sequence seems to have been laid down In rough shallow waters, with subsequent slight upfoldlng and erosion. A marine transgression also occurred In this period, advancing from the east as In the previous epoch. The marl deposits indicate an Isthmus did not exist for at least part of this period, but there was subsequent uplift (von Freyburg 1973:14). The next sequence Is the Main Conglomerate, directly overlying the Kalamaki Strata. This sequence is marked by eustatic sea level rise that rapidly flooded the entire Isthmus. Subsequently, two layers of conglomerate, separated by a sand horizon, were deposited. The conglomerates were laid In an agitated aquatic environment, with directional bedding indicating strong currents (von Freyburg 1973:14-15). The Yellow-Sand Series and the Extension Series are next in the sequence. Both developed in a marine environment and contain fossils of Tyrrhenian age. The sediments of the Yellow-Sand Series were transported to the Isthmus from the west. Various conglomerates are present In this series; there are indications of sea level fluctuation and various currents, perhaps riverine in origin. The Yellow-Sand Series was followed by a tectonic and eroslonal phase; a large body of fresh water gathered over the erosional plain. The Extension Series Involved the transporting of conglomerates from the south, followed by sands, and marl with coral colonies. These materials are capped by a conglomerate in most areas, and with Korinthlan building sandstone In some Isolated Instances. The two series cover the entire Isthmus (von Freyburg 1973:15). 55 Post'Tyrrhenian Development.The periodic inundations to which the Isthmus was subject resulted from eustatic change and tectonic subsidence. After the deposition of the Extension Series, the region experienced the development of fault-line scarps, over which the modern landscape emerged. A series of valleys were created, along with pedogenlc episodes. Massive uplifting of the area and continued formation of new faults and extending of old ones make difficult a complete understanding of these events. In the Solomos Valley, two pebble beach layers have been Identified. One is the Gonla Conglomerate, perhaps formed during the Wurm Interstadial at a time when a substantial portion of the Isthmus may still have been under water. The second layer Is the Tripos Conglomerate. By the time It developed, the Isthmus was a stable land bridge. In the final major geomorphologlcal phase, a large bay existed whose steep cliffs can be traced starting east of New Korlnth and heading west around the city. Various terraces date to historical periods as indicated by the presence of ceramics in the loosely consolidated conglomerate. From a tectonic standpoint, Indications are that the Isthmus was formed by tilted fault blocks. In the north, this fault area reaches maximum height In the east and dips below sea level to the west. In the south, the reverse is true. There Is also an Intermediate neutral zone that Is less tilted. Subsequent shifting along the faults has displaced the overlying loam, a process which seems to be ongoing (von Freyburg 1973:15-16). 56 THE NATURAL SETTING-TOPOGRAPHY The terrain In and around the Sanctuary Is moderately to heavily dissected by a number of stream beds, forming a platform of land gently sloping down from west to east and from south to north. This roughly rectangular area Is bounded on the south by Rachl, a long ridge with a southwest-northeast strike that terminates in an abrupt drop off overlooking the Temenos and the Later Stadium from an elevation of 100 m. Prior to the construction of the Korinth Canal in the late nineteenth century and the addition of the massive dumps to the landscape, the area of the Sanctuary and Rachl offerred an unimpeded view to the north across the Isthmus. The site Is located at the juncture of several major, low-lying routes. Perhaps the most significant road skirts the mountains along the northwest shore of the Saronic Gulf and provides one of several natural corridors of transport from Attika and the Megarid into the Peloponnesos. Another route passes along the north shore of the Argolid peninsula, providing access to the Korinthla from Trotzen and Epidauros (Wiseman 1978:50-51). The sea is currently only 0.5 km distant, enhancing the site’s potential as a crossroads for cultural Interchange, both friendly and hostile. The so-called Northwest Gully defines the western edge of the modem village of Kyras Vrisl and presumably served In a similar capacity In antiquity. This gully lies 300 m west of the Temenos; the intervening land rises gently to the west before dropping off abruptly into this ravine, which marks the course of an intermittent stream flowing south to north. At the head of this gully is a spring whose output has been seriously 57 diminished In modern times by wells tapping the aquifers that feed it. In Classical times, a system of channels and reservoirs on the right bank of the streambed exploited this substantial water source for the residents and visitors In and around the Sanctuary. Extensive erosion has evidently occurred, downcutting the streambed so that Its floor is currently 10 m lower than the ancient hydraulic system, which formerly redirected and collected the flow (Broneer 1973:2). Such evidence 1s instructive of the need to assess geomorphologlcal processes in the Aegean at times other than the quiescent dry season. Periods of erosion are largely confined to the rainy fall and winter. What seems to be a stable landscape In summer can change dramatically in winter, so that erosion occurs In brief but destructive episodes. The Northwest Gully joins up with the steep-sided Great Ravine to form the northern topographical boundary of the Sanctuary area. As it descends to the east, the latter stream broadens and terminates in the narrow coastal plain near the east entrance to the Korinth Canal. A short, wide tributary of this gully reaches the Hexamilion at a point where the Roman Bath stood. The Byzantine defenders of the site took advantage of the Great Ravine by building the Hexamilion along the south bank, overlooking the floor from a superior position. The tributary channel evidently originated farther to the south. A drain running underneath the northwest comer of the Temenos debouches into a narrow trough that curves down to an area just west of the Roman Bath where it terminates abruptly. Evidently the construction of the Hexamilion blocked off Its natural exit and led to the buildup of sediments south of the wall that filled in that terrain. 58 Another streambed helped to delineate the eastern edge of the site. A channel followed a course southwest-northeast, starting from the southeast slope of Rachl. This course Is easily traced by following the contours of major structural features. The Later Stadium was constructed In this natural hollow after the flow of water was rerouted. Further to the northeast, the concave nature of the east wall of the Byzantine Fortress mirrors the channel. In their plan of the site , Jenkins and Megaw (1931-2:80) note the presence of a stream 1n this area that today Is occupied by a citrus orchard. It seems clear that a major deposltlonal episode occurred In this area with the construction of the Hexamilion (as with the case cited above near the Roman Bath) blocking off the stream. The discrepancy In elevation (ca. 12 m) on the north and south sides of the Hexamilion at this point Indicates the degree of filling in that has occurred behind the wall as sediments were prevented from exiting to the north. As a result, the relative height of the east Fortress wall above the surrounding terrain would have been considerably greater in the fifth century A.D. Broneer (1973:1) suggests that the land on which the Sanctuary Is situated was more level In the past. Part of the site modification involved considerable landscaping to accomodate the east-west orientation believed to be most appropriate for a Greek temple. The expansion of the Sanctuary involved Increasingly more land in this modification of the terrain. The ravine at the northwest corner of the Temenos and the gently sloping land to the east were raised to the level of the Temple site. The higher ground to the soutnwest of the Temple was eventually cut down to allow for expansion at the same level. As a result, the area between the Temenos and 59 the Roman Bath, which probably at one time sloped downwards gradually, now presents a terraced appearance, with the Temple and associated structures on a higher tier than the Theater and Bath. The vegetatlonal cover In the area of the Sanctuary today Is largely agricultural In nature. Grains, citrus fruit, and olives are grown In the area, with various open fields overgrown with weeds, grass, and thistles. Trees are restricted to isolated stands of pine and cypress and groves of olives and citrus, with the surrounding hills relatively bare except for grasses and macquis cover. Broneer (1973:1) states that prior to construction in antiquity, the site was probably heavily wooded, a condition that would have restricted the degree of erosion. Pausanlas' (11,1,7) mention of a tree-lined path from the Later Stadium to the Temenos and of a Sacred Glen may provide some support for this view. These hints, however, fall well short of a full description. In addition, there is considerable debate at present over the issue of deforestation in antiquity. The removal of trees In large quantities may be a phenomenon of the recent past. Furthermore, geomorphologlcal studies In the southern Argolld Indicate the Importance of terracing In determining sedimentation sequences (Pope and Van Andel 1985), a consideration that offers an alternative explanation. The clearing of land does not necessarily lead to erosion If terrace walls are maintained. So, the area of the site may have had few trees and yet retained soil due to proper terracing. In an overall sense, the topography of the Sanctuary was well-suited for the various purposes to which it was put over several millennia. An abundant water supply was available once a channeling system was In 60 place. Coupled with the presence of land suitable for large scale construction and agricultural production, the stage was set for a long sequence of human occupation. These fundamental underlying elements abetted the changes In site function through time.

HISTORY OF THE SITE As mentioned above, the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmla and Its immediate environs occupy a strategic location astride the land route connecting the Peloponnesos with the rest of Greece. As such, the area has been a focus of human occupation In most periods since the Neolithic. Although the emphasis of this study will be on site use In Late Antiquity and the Early Byzantine era, a preliminary examination of the site's overall history will place the ensuing discussion in an appropriate temporal framework. Through the media of travelers' accounts, historical documents, and archaeological reports, a fairly clear picture of this sequence can be ascertained. Following this historical account, the history of scholarly (primarily archaeological) work at the site will be detailed. In conjunction with the preceding sections on the natural setting, this foundation will serve to ground the current research effort and, along with other comparanda, provide the basis for conclusions drawn In later chapters. The site of Isthmla has had a long and noteworthy history. The Sanctuary of Poseidon and the festivals celebrated there gained considerable renown in antiquity, earning Panhellenlc status for the site in the sixth century B.C. The legends associated with the founding of the Isthmian Games may reflect an ex post facto explanation devised to lend mythical sanction to what was clearly an Important cultural event. Whatever the specific circumstances may have been, there Is clear evidence that the area was occupied from an early date. Pottery from the Rachl, the high ridge overlooking the Sanctuary from the south, yielded some possible Neolithic sherds In a context with obsidian debris, but with no associated architectural components for this period (Smith 1955:142). Some Neolithic sherds were found In the fill beneath the Theater skene, but these may have been redeposited from elsewhere (Broneer 1973:6). Bronze Age data are more substantial, but also problematic. Hope Simpson and Dickinson (1979:64) note the presence of the following components: Early Helladlc (EH) H I, Middle Helladlc (MH),

Late Helladlc (LH) II A-B, and LH III A2-B. These periods cover a broad time span from ca. 2900 B.C. to 1200 B.C., with several gaps. Little Is made of the putative Bronze Age settlement by Hope Simpson and Dickinson (1979:64). Smith (1955:142), however, suggests the presence of a sizable prehistoric site. Mycenaean sherds were found in the temenos area, and others in an ancient dump to the north of the Temple, and yet another group, along with some EH material, In the Theater. The major prehistoric deposit came from the gully northwest of the Temple. One trench yielded pottery from EH to Mycenaean (LH I and II), consisting of cups, bowls, alabastra, and Ephyrean ware. Smith (1955:143-146) concludes from the examination of this material that there was a significant Island Influence on the Bronze Age pottery of this mainland region. For the EH material, she sees some 62 affinities with Therml on Lesbos. Smith argues that the sauceboats, generally considered a diagnostic EH II ware, seem to be of an early form, with a clear developmental sequence, with perhaps some affinities to vases from certain Early Bronze Age sites on Crete, Including Koumasa, Christos, Pyrgos, and Mochlos. Smith further suggests that Cycladlc influence Is evident In other Isthmian pottery, such as the beaked jugs. The clay of which these wares are made Is local, sugggestlng some sort of stimulus diffusion as opposed to Importation that was clearly the case at some coastal sites, such as Agios Kosmas (Mylonas 1959). More recent comparative work Indicates that the sauceboat and other Early Bronze Age wares may have derived from Anatolia, where sim ilar forms have been found at Troy and other sites (Stubblngs 1973:52). Broneer (1973:6) dismisses most of the Bronze Age occupation as being relatively sparse. Although EH material Is scattered throughout the site, MH and LH sherds are more thinly distributed. In Broneer’s assessment: "They are enough to show that the site of the future Sanctuary was not wholly unoccupied In the fourteenth and thirteenth centuries B.C., but it would be rash to conclude from these Insignificant finds that the cult of Poseidon had any such distant ancestry" (1973:6). It Is Broneer’s contention that It was ju st at the end of the Mycenaean period that the Isthmus became at all significant when It served as a link in a defensive communication network. It was at this time, Broneer argues, that a defensive wall was erected on the Isthmus (Broneer 1959:300), but the evidence for such fortifications is slim. The wall runs roughly west from the Saronic Gulf in various Isolated fragments, which from the 63 associated pottery, seem to date to LH IIIB-LH IIIC, ca. 1200 B.C. (Broneer 1966:355, 1976:418; Leekley and Noyes 1976:78; Hope Simpson and Dickinson 1979:64). The wall Is first visible in a 17-meter section In the village of Isthmla 100 m from the Saronlc Gulf near the east entrance to the Korinth Canal. It reappears near the modern paved road, ascending the slope of a hill to the northwest. At this point it follows the line of the later Hexamilion. When the latter descends a slope to link up with the Byzantine Fortress, the prehistoric wall continues along the top of a ridge south of Kyras Vrysl. Below Rachl, the wall turns towards a gully, crosses a ravine, then disappears. Wiseman (1978:59) suggests It turned back along the north slope of Rachl and entered the area of the Sanctuary. On the basis of this evidence and the small section near the Temple of Poseidon, Broneer (1973:7) argues that the wall passed through the west edge of the temenos, leaving the Sanctuary area exposed outside of the fortification. He asserts that this is a "...clear indication that the cult of the Isthmian Poseidon was unknown at the turn from the thirteenth to the twelfth century B.C." (1973:7). In his eagerness to prove a point, Broneer neglects to consider the possibility that a Mycenaean sanctuary may have been somewhat removed from the location of the Classical Temple, but still within the general vicinity. The wall is Cyclopean in construction, varying in width from 2.75 to 4 m, with five towers known. It is dated on the basis of LH NIB and LH IIIC pottery in the interstices and other associated contexts (Wiseman 1978:59). The precise function of the wall has been a m atter of some 64 controversy. In an early evaluation, Broneer (1958) opined that It may have been a retaining wall for a Mycenaean roadway. With subsequent discoveries, he came to view it as part of a defensive system, perhaps Intended to stretch across the Isthmus, but the few disjointed stretches of walls do not follow a clear course and there are no extant sections along most of the Isthmus. It seems more likely that these walls represent separate fortifications. The retaining wall hypothesis was revived by Kardara (1971), thus denying the structure status as a fortification. However, Broneer (1973:6-7, note 31) dispenses with this view on the force of three key pieces of evidence: D a 25-m segment in the village of Isthmla is faced on both sides, and is on level ground where there would have been no need for a retaining function; 2) further west Is a section 8.40 m long up a slope whose Incline precludes wheeled traffic; 3) the small north-facing towers are anomalous features in a retaining wall. As a result of this evidence and the proposed date (LH IIIB-C) for the wall(s), Broneer (1976:418) argues that the function was primarily defensive, to block the influx of waves of Dorians; it was probably left incomplete when the last successful Invasion occurred at ca. 1100 B.C. He suggests that the wall was to serve as a first line of defense in a coordinated effort to protect the Peloponnesos by delaying the enemy long enough to provide the Mycenaean armies time to mobilize. Broneer (1966:355,362) argues that such a cooperative spirit may have been acquired during the Trojan Expedition, but this is quite conjectural since there is considerable evidence that suggests the Mycenaeans regularly engaged in internecine warfare (Thomas 1970). 65 Realizing that the date of the wall (LH IIIB-LHIUC transition) puts the Dorians already In the Peloponnesos, Broneer attempts to explain why they did not block Its construction. He (1968:33-35) hypothesizes a series of raids and withdrawals, with actual settlement by the outsiders subsequent to a late final success, at which time they prevented the completion of the project. Broneer notes that tradition implies the Dorian "Invasion" was not a single event; the Interlopers had some success then were forced to retreat north of the Isthmus. During such lulls, the Mycenaeans worked on strengthening their defenses, Including an effort to block the invasion route with a wall across the Isthmus. In this and other instances Broneer strains to match tradition with archaeological evidence, a union which does not always mesh well. Leaving aside the whole Issue of whether a Dorian invasion ever occurred, there are other problems with his reconstruction of events. The most telling is that the extant stretches of Mycenaean wall are rather few, relatively short, and unconnected. The orientations are such that It Is not clear that the various fragments all necessarily form part of the same system. Gregory (In press) argues strongly that these segments were not part of a wall across the Isthmus. There are no segments known west of the Sanctuary of Poseidon. The available evidence may perhaps be best Interpreted as Indicating a localized effort at defense. In addition, there Is no reason to attribute a large collaborative effort to the Mycenaeans, the epic concerning the Trojan War notwithstanding. Subsequent to the Bronze Age, Isthmla evidently continued as a site of at best moderate importance. Despite the significance of the locale In 66 mythology, It was clearly subordinate to other sites in the Korinthia in terms of human occupation. The quantity of ceramic material does indicate more activity in Geometric times, particularly in the latter phases of the period. The presence of two bronze figurines in conjunction with this material may, Broneer (1973:7) suggests, indicate the beginning of cultic practices and thus mark Isthmla’s embarking on a career as a sanctuary by the late eighth century B.C. A substantial occupation, however, Is not clearly attested by abundant pottery until the Protocorinthian period (Broneer 1973:7). In the Archaic period, Isthmla rose to prominence due in large part to the efflorescence of the Sanctuary and the cult of Poseidon associated with it. The centerpiece of the Sanctuary was the Temple of Poseidon that Broneer (1953:188; 1955:111-115; 1971:101-103) believes underwent three major phases of construction and renovation. The first Temple may have been built at the outset of the seventh century B.C., during the hegemony of the Bacchlads In Korinth. The site maintained or gained In significance under the reign of the Korinthian tyrants Kypselos and Periander. The Isthmian Games, of equal stature with those at Olympia and Delphi, were founded, or reorganized, In 582 or 580 B.C., according to tradition. This marks the Internationalization of the Sanctuary Into a Panhellenic center (Broneer 1973:4). The earliest graves In the large cemetery west of Kyras Vrysl also date to this time (Clement and Thome 1974), a further indication of the more sustained use of the site. This quickened pace of activity may have much more to do with the enhanced commercial status of Korinth at this time than It does with any 67 increase in piety. The Sanctuary was situated, as noted above, at a key spot on the Isthmus, in line with the best access route to the Megarid to the north, and the harbors of Schoenos and Kenchreae on the Saronic Gulf to the east. In addition, the Diolkos, a stone pavement built in the sixth or seventh century B.C. to haul ships across the Isthmus, probably passed near the Sanctuary on its route between the Korinthian and Saronic Gulfs. Isthmia would thus have witnessed considerable traffic and the Sanctuary evidently benefited as a result. The Sanctuary grew by accretion, an Archaic Stadium joining the Temple in an early complex (Broneer 1973:4). The history of the Temple can serve as the centerpiece In discussing the Sanctuary as a whole since the rise and fall of the site's fortunes are reflected in its key structure. The Archaic Temple was probably erected shortly after 700 B.C. and almost certainly prior to the middle of the seventh century B.C. (Broneer 1971:1). Broneer (1955:111) reconstructs it as a Doric peristyle structure with a length of about 40 m. The blocks of this Temple, he says, are distinguished from those of later versions by the presence of two parallel grooves on the undersides through which ropes could be passed to assist in lifting operations. Although some modifications were probably made, this structure stood for about 200 years before It was destroyed by fire at the time of the Persian invasion (ca.480 B.C.); these two events seem to be coincidental rather than contingent, however (Broneer 1971:1,101). Rhodes (1987) questions this reconstructed sequence, arguing this Initial temple was neither Doric nor peripteral, but rather a simple rectangular structure. 68 The vitality of the site at this time, at the transition from Archaic to Classical, is reflected In the relatively rapid and grand reconstruction of the Temple. This second edifice was a larger affair, with foundations measuring 56.2x25.7 m set In an artificially levelled quadrangle covering an area 116x78 m with retaining walls on the north and east made of irregular blocks In lime mortar (Broneer 1953:185-186). Important similarities with the Temple of Zeus at Olympia exist in the general plan and profiles of mouldings, suggesting a date shortly after 460 B.C. It was a hexastyle peripteral temple with thirteen columns along the sides, each reaching a height of 8.73 m and surmounted by an entablature 3.658 m tall. Marble tiles fringed the roof of this Impressive building that existed, albeit with significant modifications, for almost 900 years. By the end of the fifth century B.C., for example, the interior of the Temple was drastically altered, with two rows of columns replacing the original single row (Broneer 1971:1,101). The destruction and subsequent rebuilding of the Temple was not an isolated phenomenon at the site. By the end of the fifth century B.C., the so-called Earlier Stadium replaced its Archaic counterpart at essentially the same location. Its Intricate starting-line mechanism (MacKendrick 1981:332) provided a means of regulating the intense competitive spirit of participants In the Games. It was also at this time that the site first acquired a Theater, although It was probably of Impermanent materials. The stone Theater was added near the end of the following century. Several Cult Caves In the slope behind the Theater served as dining areas for ritual meals (Broneer 1962:4-7; 1973). 69 The Second Temple suffered severe damage by fire In 390 B.C. during the Korlnthlan War, as related by Xenophon in the Hellenlca (IV, 5, 4). Because of the extensive rebuilding necessary to restore the structure, Broneer (1971:1-2) refers to the result of this effort as the Third Temple. The better preserved portions of the gutted building were left standing. The cella walls were eventually replaced, as were some of the peristyle columns. The marble roof tiles, some of which were reduced to Hme by the Intensity of the conflagration, gave way to terracotta ones. A number of the blocks bear the marks of two different types of tools, a fact which Broneer takes to mean the reworking of those blocks that were still usable. In conjunction with this restoration, the Sanctuary continued to thrive. It had gained a reputation by the fourth century B.C. as one of the four Panhellenic centers, with Its biennial games perhaps second in popularity only to Olympia because of Isthmla’s ready access to visitors and Its proximity to the major population centers of Attika and the Korlnthia (Broneer 1962:25). By the middle of the century the two Cult Caves went out of use. Shortly thereafter, the Earlier Stadium gave way to a new facility built In the natural gully ca. 200 m southeast of the Temenos, where larger crowds could be accomodated. The festivals held here celebrated not only athletic prowess but also artistic ability; an Inscription on a statue base honoring Themlson tells of his ninety-four victories in poetry and music, often gained by putting to music the works of Sophokles, Euripides, and Tlmotheos (Broneer 1953:192-193). Additional construction took place In the Sacred Glen, located approximately 400 m southwest of the Temple of Poseidon, where a 70 Demeter shrine was situated, and perhaps other structures as well. At a distance of 2 km southwest of the Temple, the West Foundation also was constructed In the fourth century B.C.; Broneer (1973:2-3) posits that the Hippodrome Is to be found In this vicinity, outside of the Sanctuary proper but within a reasonable distance. This level of monumental public architecture reflects a substantial community investment. Korinth, which controlled the Sanctuary and the Games, assumed the onus of the burden, but the rewards for Its regulatory role must also have been substantial. Korlnthlan merchants, farmers, herders, and artisans undoubtedly benefited financially from the influx of spectators, participants, and other visitors both during the major festivals and at other times. In addition to an economic aspect, the element of prestige figures into this evaluation, even though It too may ultimately be viewed in light of monetary rewards:the more prestigious the sanctuary, the more likely it is to draw pilgrims and others who could add to Korlnthian coffers. The site did become a major crossroads of Hellenic culture, attracting Individuals from the dispersed corners of the Greek world. Its status as a meeting place Is perhaps best attested by Its use as a forum for major announcements. According to Plutarch, Alexander the Great declared the start of his Persian campaign In 336 B.C. at Isthmla (Alexander XIV. 1-2). Other such key events include Flaminlus’ proclamation of Greek Independence In 196 B.C. (Livy. History of Rome XXX111. 32, 5-9) and the reaffirmation of this by Nero in AD. 67 (Suetonius VI, 24, 2). The number and variety of votlves found at the site also Indicate a vibrant system in operation. A number of metal offerings, many melted by 71 the two major fires, have been found In the Temple of Poseidon. Among the other areas that have yielded Important finds of this nature Is a well 200 m southwest of the temenos (Caskey 1960). Included In this hoard are a pot dedicated to Demeter, a skyphold krater with Dlonyslac figures, lamps, terracotta figurines, and two bronze armlets or anklets. The two bronze item s are not Greek, but rather have affinities to Celtic motifs of Central Europe, as seen In pieces from the La Tene culture of Bohemia, Moravia, Slovakia, Austria, and Hungary; these date to 350-300 B.C. and reflect the sort of indirect trade in exotic goods that characterizes the ancient Mediterranean In various periods (Caskey 1960). Such evidence aids In realizing the degree to which Isthmla and other major sanctuaries were cultural crossroads. At a more mundane level, the remains on Rachl south of the Sanctuary point to the Increasing level of activity at the site. Fowler and Stllwell (1932:71) noted the presence on this ridge of numerous cuttings for streets, stairs, houses and cisterns indicating the existence of a substantial settlement. They quote Monceaux (1884) who described the east slope as being covered by a settlement 1 km long and 300 m wide, with a broad street running the entire length. Monceaux suggested this was the site of Ephyra, a Phoenician colony that was supplanted by Korinth after the Dorian conquest at the close of the Bronze Age (ca. 1100 B.C.). This Interpretation lacks the support of excavated evidence and reflects the desire to make archaeology conform to literary sources. Kardara (1961) has Identified the site as a Hellenistic dyeing and weaving center dating ca. 360-240 B.C. The settlement was evidently a 72 full-fledged Industrial community, with vats for washing and dyeing wool, old roof tiles for squeezing out the excess lye for reuse, basins for treading cloth, and numerous loom weights used In weaving. Wool was available from Parnassos, purple dye from Ermlone, and Korinth could provide marketing facilities. More problematic Is the reason for the termination of this enterprise. Of the possible reasons offerred by Kardara, the most likely are that the viability of the specialized community was undermined by more successful rivals or that the Introduction of indigo lessened demand for the Rachl product. The location of this settlement on the heights overlooking the Sanctuary is hard to explain In light of the rather difficult access and lack of water on Rachl. Kardara (1961) suggests this area was selected to take advantage of the steady breezes to dry dyed textiles. Another explanation may be that such an Industrial facility was kept at some distance from the Sanctuary to prevent the noise and smells of dyeing activity from disturbing the suppliants. Perhaps the most significant thing about the Rachi settlement Is that It demonstrates the Sanctuary did not exist in isolation, but was part of a larger complex, with commercial and residential facilities adjacent to religious and athletic ones. The presence of the complex hydraulic system and the West Cemetery further underline the diversity of activity at the site. The strategic significance of the Isthmus was, of course, also considered by various military planners through time. In addition to the Mycenaean wall, other efforts were made to fortify the Isthmus. Herodotus (VIII, 71) describes a wall quickly thrown up in 480-479 B.C. to block the 73 threatened Persian advance. Wiseman (1963, 1978:60-63) argues that this wall, though no longer extant, was followed by a Hellenistic wall built by a Macedonian garrison of Antlgonos Gonatas In 279 B.C. Diodorus (XV, 68, 3-5) mentions a wall built In 369 B.C. In an effort to block Epaminondas’ route into the Peloponnesos. According to Pausanlas (VII, 6, 4) the Peloponnesians considered building such a wall In 279 B.C. to impede the Gauls, but there Is no evidence of It ever being undertaken. Since the site lies north of any known fortifications and would thus have been exposed to attack, none of the walls made an effort to protect the Sanctuary. Obviously, more Immediate needs were uppermost In the minds of military architects and in times of emergency the holy place was left to fend for Itself. Some of the most valued treasures were probably removed to more secure quarters. The general trend of sustained prosperity and physical expansion of the Sanctuary seems to have come to an abrupt halt In the middle of the second century B.C. In 146 B.C. the Roman general L. Mummlus sacked Korinth in retaliation for Its prominent role In the Achaean League; the city was refounded as a Roman colony In 44 B.C. under the auspices of Julius Caesar (Pausanlas II, 1, 2). In the Intervening time span, the Sanctuary at Isthmla had suffered a decline In Its fortune that continued about another half century. The buildings evidently did not suffer as a result of Korlnth’s destruction, but with its great patron city essentially disenfranchised as an urban entity, the Sanctuary evidently ceased to be a hub of activity. There Is no clear Indication whether the Isthmian Games continued to be celebrated at the traditional spot or whether they were transferred 74 elsewhere. Pausanlas (II, 2, 2) says the neighboring polls of Slkyon controlled the games during this period. The Long Altar east of the Temple of Poseidon may have been dismantled during this tim e and part of It crossed over by a roadway that cut through the Temenos area. Broneer (1973:4) proposes this explanation, although the wheel ruts need not necessarily belong to this time period. Bolstered by a significant drop In other remains (Broneer 1977:2), this argument suggests that during the hiatus, the monuments north of the Temple were taken down and the Theater was abandoned. The rejuvenation of the Sanctuary seems to have begun under Augustus, when the Games were restored to the site and a new phase of construction was Initiated. These events inaugurated a new era of prominence lasting some three centuries (Broneer 1973:2). During this period many of the older structures were refurbished and new ones added to the complex. In the Temple of Poseidon the floors and sections of the walls were adorned with marble revetment. This structure seems to have undergone various episodes of modification In the Roman period, but precisely how many cannot be ascertained (Broneer 1971:1). Perhaps even more significant In this respect for the site as a whole was the construction of a totally new structure within the Temenos. What this reflects Is not simply a resumption of cult activities, but their expansion to encompass new or a least broadened interests, which in turn suggests a culture with a vital, Invigorated spirit, the willingness to express this sentiment, and the economic capabilities to bring this desire to fruition. This new addition was a sector dedicated to 75 Mellkertes/Palalmon, the figure in whose honor the Games were instituted. The spot selected was in the area formerly occupied by the northwest end of the Earlier Stadium. Broneer (1973:4) argues logically that the worship of this individual must have existed from early on, but no distinct monument for such a purpose has been identified. The excavator suggests that an altar may have been located in the Earlier Stadium for this purpose. The so-called Palaimonion, including a circular Temple of Palaimon with a narrow passage built into its podium, seems to have focused initially on several sacrificial pits. Rupp (1979) has proposed the existence of a pre-Roman Temenos of Palaimon dating no later than 390 B.C. and perhaps as early as the Archaic period. Other work at the Sanctuary followed this initial effort. Some time around A.D. 50 the Temenos area was more clearly defined by the construction of a precinct wall around the Temple of Poseidon; a new altar was also erected at this time. Broneer (1973:4) sees In these activities a systematic plan at work, the next stage of which involved rebuilding the Theater. The first effort in this regards may be tied to Nero’s visit in A.D. 66 or 67, at which time he used the Theater as the setting for his proclamation of Greek independence (Suetonius, Lives. VI, 24, 2). Repairs were periodically made from that point on. Another major addition to the site in the latter half of the first century A.D. was a monumental triple arch at the northeastern end. Its three entrances offered access to both wheeled and pedestrian traffic from the north and east. The arch was situated astride what probably was the main road into the Peloponnesos from those directions, and in fact it may 76 have served as a boundary marker of sorts between southern and central Greece. Its construction may also be tied to Nero's visit or may reflect the munificence of the Flavian emperors. At a more general level, It may represent the melding of Greek and Roman cultures, evident In its mixture of styles, and Indicative of the cosmopolitan nature of Korinth and its environs at this time (Gregory and Mills 1984:407,410, 425-429). In the succeeding centuries, the intervening area between the Temenos and this arch was reasonably well Inhabited as Indicated by the number of foundations. At a location 130 m north of the Temple of Poseidon, a large bath complex, with an elaborate mosaic depicting various sea creatures in one room, was built over the remains of an earlier Greek Bath (Catling 1976,1979; Clement 1976). Also in the early Roman period, the road through the Sanctuary, which may have crossed over the altar and passed just north of the Temple of Poseidon during the time when the site’s fortunes were at low ebb from ca. 146 B.C. to the early Christian era, may have been diverted to run north of the Temenos (Broneer 1973:89). By all Indications the Sanctuary was a thriving enterprise by the second century AD., with key structures restored and new ones added to meet the growing demands on the site. Its fortunes were clearly tied to those of Korinth that was a flourishing commercial center at the time. This era of prosperity continued well into the second century AD. In the second half of the century, Publius Licinius Priscus luventianus, a well-to-do high priest of Poseidon, provided funds for a series of new buildings in the Sanctuary. At this time the last great episode of construction in the Sanctuary occurred. The plan called for stoas on each 77 side of the main Temple, but only three of the four were executed fully. The spot sacred to Palaimon received Its round temple. The Theater was to be enlarged, but this part of the project never got beyond the planning stage (Broneer 1973:5). It was evidently this Improved, enlarged complex that Pausanlas (II, 1, 7-9 and II, 2, 1-2) visited and described, perhaps some time in the A.D. 160s . He states that the theater and stadium are noteworthy and lists what he sees as he walks through the Sanctuary. Despite his comment that the Temple of Poseidon Is not large, he does praise the statues. Those In the interior were dedicated by Herodes Atticus, the great Athenian patron who lavished vast amounts of his huge fortune on building projects throughout Greece. It is In large part from the work of Pausanlas that the topography of many Greek sites Is reconstructed and Isthmla Is no exception. However, Pausanlas does not discuss every monument he encounters (e.g., he makes no mention of the Roman arch through which he must have passed if he came from the direction of Athens) so there are gaps In his account. Although his work is crucial In many respects to archaeological reconstruction In Greece, the Image he presents Is not always without difficulties. With this proviso in mind, the evidence still points to the late second century A.D. as a time of prosperity for the Isthmian Sanctuary. From this high water mark, the Sanctuary seemingly entered a period of decline (Broneer 1971:2). No further construction associated with cult activity can be documented within the Temenos. The site evidently ceased to function as a Sanctuary by the end of the fourth century A.D., with the 78 ancient structures In a state of disrepair, as though the abandonment was gradual rather than abrupt. The social and political circumstances of the third and fourth centuries A.D. may provide some historical Insights as to why the Sanctuary fell on hard times. The third century Is marked by political Instability In Rome, with a plethora of emperors, most of whom ruled quite briefly (Boak and Slnnlgen 1965:403-404). The degree to which this turmoil at the center of political power translated Into troubles in the provinces Is a matter of debate. The conventional wisdom would have a period of decay and unrest, allowing and then being exacerbated by external events, such as the influx of barbarian groups (Jones 1966:362-370; Plganlol 1947:411-422). Continuing in this vein, the situation was stabilized somewhat by Diocletian but at the cost of an overweening bureaucracy, which, along with a static economy, became a drain on the Imperial system, creating a rupture In urban society, especially In the West (Walbank 1946:38-57). A crisis of confidence occurred, augmented by serious divisions among the ruling elite In terms of apportioning spheres of Influence. Christianity made great headway under such circumstances, In part at least because of Its theme of unity; It fulfilled certain needs which pagan religions could no longer address as well (Bury 1923a:309-310). The new faith drew followers, leading to the decline of pagan sanctuaries as the populace abandoned the old practices and cult centers. In a general sense, this Is the sort of reasoning that Is Implied In Broneer’s description of the decline of the Isthmian Sanctuary. However, alternative views have been off erred on this topic by various historians and 79 they merit consideration. In his study of Roman Greece In Late Antiquity, Larsen (1938) finds the economic situation In Greece during the third century as one that had rebounded rather than being In a trough. He notes that the civic apparatus still functioned (as witnessed by the vigorous response to the Herull and others), although the population In many parts of Greece could not be labeled truly urban. Nonetheless, the more dispersed settlem ent pattern w as not a drawback to a prosperous economy. Change was obviously taking place, but the process seems to be too complex to be realistically expressed In simple dichotomies such as pagan/Christian or rural/urban. The views of other scholars on this issue will be outlined in Chapter III. Whatever the underlying causes may have been, the process of debilitation of the Sanctuary came to a head In the fourth century A.D. The Isthmian Games were supposedly officially ended by Theodosios I In A.D. 394, but there Is no conclusive evidence for this event. It Is more likely that the Games died out due to lack of Interest. Any official proclamation would simply have sanctioned a fait accompli. Also of great significance was Alarlc’s devastating raid into Greece In the 390s. Beaton and Clement (1976) argue that Alaric's forces sacked the Sanctuary. The dual blows of declining interest and destruction of the cult place evidently doomed the pagan Sanctuary. Early In the next century (ca. 410-420) the Hexamilion, a true trans-lsthmus fortification, was constructed. The segment near the Sanctuary ran along the edge of the Late Roman site, Incorporating features of the latter wherever feasible. The north wall of the Roman Bath was so used, as was the Roman arch; both of these structures stand at the edge of 80 the Great Ravine that drops off steeply to the north. A large fortress was appended to the Hexamlllon at this time; the former shares Its north wall with the latter. The Roman arch, bolstered by stout towers, served as the Northeast Gate of this Byzantine Fortress (Gregory and Mills 1984:407); the massive South Gate acted as the other entrance, on the Peloponnesos side. In addition to the standing structures Incorporated into the Hexamlllon and the Fortress, both fortifications also contain numerous spolla from other buildings In the ancient Sanctuary. Perhaps some of the structures were pulled down even prior to the construction of the fortifications (Broneer 1971:103), but It Is clear that the Temple of Poseidon, the Temple of Palalmon, the stoas, the Theater, and other monuments were systematically dismantled for use In both the Hexamlllon and the Fortress (Broneer 1976:418). Many architectural members, including column drums, antae, capitals and voussolrs from various ancient structures, have been identified In the debris of the Byzantine walls. These were modified for such use (e.g., column drums were split to provide straight faces). In addition, the Interior of the Fortress was levelled, especially on the east side, by bringing fill material from elsewhere in the Sanctuary area (Broneer 1976:418). From this time on, the focus of occupation at the site shifted to the Fortress. Several small structures near the main Temple probably represent shelters for the workers Involved In razing the ancient buildings. The Temenos area was eventually burled by overburden and the location of the Temple of Poseidon forgotten (Broneer 1971:2). 81 For over 1000 years, the Fortress and adjoining sections of the Hexamlllon witnessed the construction activity that had been previously reserved for the cult buildings (Gregory, In Press). The original Intent of the fortification obviously was to block Invaders. The works may have been In part a reaction to Alarlc's sack of Rome in 410 that spurred defensive measures as far afield as Constantinople. By the end of the century, the military threat may have eased somewhat since the Fortress seems to have fallen Into disrepair, as atttested by the presence of houses and graves abutting on the Interior walls at the Northeast Gate and probably elsewhere (Clement 1975:163-164). During the reign of Justinian In the sixth century, the fortifications were extensively renovated. This Impressive effort Involved repairing the Hexamlllon, the Fortress, and the numerous towers facing north from the former. Procopius (Buildings IV, 2, 27-28) and the contemporary Victorinus Inscription (InscrlDtlones Graecae IV, 204, p. 32) clearly Indicate that this repair work occurred under the auspices of the Imperial government as part of a larger plan of defense for all of Greece. These renovations coincided with other such work at Thermopylae and elsewhere (Procopius, Buildings IV, 2, 1-28) In the case of the Hexamlllon and Fortress the purpose behind this considerable effort was to provide a single main line of defense for the Peloponnesos and to permit defense of the Isthmus by a smaller force (Gregory, In Press). Near the end of the sixth century A.D., southern Greece witnessed the Invasion of Slavic groups (Boak and Sinnlgen 1965:521). Their advent was a disruptive event. Korinth was attacked and destruction levels at Argos 82 Indicate a violent Incursion there, also (Aupert 1980). However, this episode did not mark the end of the civic centers, as some have contended. Korlnth and other cities resumed their previous functions within a short time. At Isthmia, the Hexamlllon had failed to stop the Invaders, but the Fortress seems to have held out. Indeed, this enclosure may have served both as a military facility and a domicile from the late sixth and well Into the seventh centuries A.D. (Gregory 1986b:8-10). To understand the role of Isthmia as a settlement In this period, It Is instructive to examine other sites In the Immediate vicinity. The Fortress served both military and residential roles, but it cannot be viewed In Isolation. At Akra Sophia on the coast south and east of Isthmia, and situated between the two ports of Schoenos and Kenchreae Is a group of seven sites, Including a large Early Byzantine villa complex. If, as Gregory 1985a:423) suggests, these sites represent an Integrated system for exploiting the surrounding environment, there Is reason to believe the settlement system In place at this time was much more complex than previously thought. There seems to have been a series of hamlets or Individual houses, with the villa as the focus of economic activity. The area was Intensively exploited from the fourth to the seventh centuries A.D., and perhaps well beyond the latter date (Gregory 1985a). It is unreasonable to think that there was not some fairly close connection with the Fortress, which may have served as a refuge for the residents of Akra Sophia In troubled periods. This dispersed mode of settlement has been noted for other parts of Greece. Hood (1970) believes various offshore islands, otherwise generally 83 inhospitable due to lack of water, were populated In the late sixth century as a direct result of the Slavic Invasions; people fled to these forsaken Isles out of dire necessity as the barbarian groups occupied the mainland. Gregory (1986a) challenges this viewpoint, positing more systematic exploitation of the available environment by a society experiencing healthy economic expansion in a region with limited land available for agricultural and/or pastoral activities. Within this framework, the Early Byzantine settlement at Isthmia, focusing on the Fortress, can be viewed as operating within a wider venue. Although at face value its functions may seem limited to the military sphere, one must consider the broader cultural mosaic of which it was a part. In this light, its role was still vital to Korinth, the major population center, even though the specific reason for Its significance was different than in antiquity when It enjoyed an International reputation for Its Sanctuary and Games. This theme of transition In function will be picked up again later. A lack of evidence suggests a major hiatus In site usage between the late seventh and tenth centuries A.D. (Gregory, In Press). The history of the site in the Middle Byzantine period Is not as thoroughly known as earlier components because of the nature of the work conducted here and the lack of historical documents dealing with this phase. The Fortress evidently continued to be used sporadically In one manner or another. Numismatic evidence indicates that the area around the South Gate was occupied in the tenth century (Broneer 1958:21-22). In the eleventh or twelfth century, the approach to the South Gate from Inside the Fortress was flanked by 84 retaining walls to keep the area free of excess dirt. However, both the South Gate and Northeast Gate had been rendered Inoperable as entrances Into the Fortress by the construction of blocking walls, probably in the sixth or seventh century AD. (Gregory, In Press). Broneer (1959:320-321) contends that the area Inside the South Gate was the location of considerable construction over several centuries, the last structure being a house built after the Gate had been sealed, but the chronology is uncertain. As with other fortifications in the Peloponnesos, those at Isthmia were utllzed by the various groups that periodically occupied the country. Franks inhabited the area of the South Gate In the thirteenth century (Gregory, In Press). There Is evidence of a Venetian presence In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries (Fowler and Stllwell 1932:55). Byzantine control of the site was not lacking. At Tower 14 and elsewhere in the Fortress there is evidence of a major rebuilding conducted under the personal direction of Manuel II (1391-1423) In 1415 (Chalkokondyles 1843:183-184). This project involved a wholesale restoration of the entire Hexamlllon and Its forts. In the late Medieval period, a number of houses were built up against the west wall, both Inside and outside, of the Fortress. The West Gate was also let Into this wall (perhaps in the twelfth or thirteenth century) just north of Tower 14, which could thus act as a bastion defending the new entrance. The Hexamlllon Itself was breached Immediately west of Tower 15 and an arched entrance constructed to permit traffic to pass north of the fortifications, the Northeast Gate having long since been closed off. In 1463, the Venetians undertook extensive repairs, fortifying the Hexamlllon w ith 136 towers and a double trench to the north. The 85 fortifications were overrun by the Turks on several occasions 1n the fifteenth century. The most recent large-scale restoration was planned but not executed by the Venetians in 1696 during their last short reoccupation of the Morea (Fowler and Stllwell 1932:55; Gregory, In Press). The modern village of Kyras Vrysi was founded In the nineteenth century, primarily to the west and south of the ancient Sanctuary and north of Rachl. The area of the Temenos was given over to agriculture, as was the Interior of the Fortress. A cemetery and Church of St. John were placed in the northwest sector of the Fortress in the nineteenth century, with access provided at present by a paved road that required breaking through the east and west walls of the Fortress. The area between the Temenos and the Fortress Is largely an agricultural zone. The Sacred Glen has been covered by modern houses.

PREVIOUS WORK AT THE SITE The Sanctuary of Poseidon and the Medieval remains a t Isthmia have attracted the attention of scholars and travelers for centuries. As mentioned above, Pausanias was the first to leave a fairly detailed description of the site as he witnesssed It in the second half of the second century A.D. Subsequent to this, the next substantial account to have survived Is th at of George Wheler who visited the site in 1676. He made note of walls, the Theater, and what he believed were "old Churches" and ruins of "the Town" (Wheler 1682:437). Perhaps the most complete account is that of Col. William Leake (1830) who travelled extensively throughout Greece In the early nineteenth century. He Incorrectly Identified the Byzantine Fortress as the peribolos wall of the "Temple of Neptune," a mistake that would be perpetuated by others for a century. He noted the presence of Doric architectural members, which he believed derived from the Temple, In the wall. This is a curious statement since he is suggesting that the peribolos would contain portions of the structure for which It was intended to demarcate the holy precinct. He then proceeds to give an accurate description of the course of the Hexamlllon, and provides a discourse on Its function and history, revealing his knowledge of military strategy and literary sources. The "small Fortress" (Leake 1830:286) he places 300 yards west of the supposed peribolos is probably the Roman Bath. He errs in attributing construction of the Hexamlllon to the ancient Korinthians, but his astute observations otherwise provide valuable insights into the condition of the site in the early nineteenth century (Leake 1830:297,302-305). The first systematic archaeological excavation at the site was undertaken by Monceaux in 1883 (1884; 1885). Upon fallaciously determining the Byzantine Fortress to be the Temenos of the Temple of Poseidon, he concentrated his excavation efforts along this wall. Like Leake before him, Monceaux believed the Doric building elements to be from the Temple of Poseidon, but seems to have ignored totally the logical inconsistency of his claims, as his predecessor had done. Noting the number of Doric and Ionic fragments (the latter he attributed to the Temple of Palalmon) In and around the Northeast Gate, Monceaux excavated in this area. He exposed the Gate down to Its marble pavement, correctly Identifying the Arch as Roman In date, with flanking towers added In the 87 third century A.D. to defend the site against barbarian invaders (Fowler and Stllwell 1932:65). Through the Gate, Monceaux states, passed one of three roads to the Sanctuary, coming from Schoenos. The second road at the southeast end of the site was cut into the bedrock and ascended a gentle slope from the sea. The third road approached from the west, but had been destroyed near the precinct wall. He reports it to be 10 m wide, flanked on each side by pits, 2 to 3 m in diameter and lined with cut stone, and a large cistern. A segment of this road had been visible several hundred meters from the precinct, suggesting to Monceaux the route to Corinth. (Fowler and Stllwell 1932:69). Perhaps what Monceaux reported In this latter instance was that segment of the altar bearing wheel ruts. The number of visible building blocks, coupled with the lack of temple foundations, within the "Peribolos" area led Monceaux to conclude that the remains of the Temple of Poseidon lay beneath the church of St. John. Monceaux also observed other features at the site. In the Later Stadium, he noted the presence of marble seats and fragments of marble statues. Behind the Theater he recorded many foundations and wall remains. He also Investigated the Rachl and described the extensive settlement there, stretching along the east slope, with a wide street running the entire 1 km length, passing through a central square. His identification of this settlement with Ephyra has already been discussed (Fowler and Stllwell 1932:60,70-71). The next Individual to undertake work at the site was Stais, acting for the Greek Archaeological Service. He excavated for fifteen days In 88 September, 1903, largely in an effort to determine the validity of Monceaux's claims that no ancient (i.e., pre-Roman) buildings could be found (1903:14-15). He excavated a series of trial trenches wherever the ground seemed appropriate for laying foundations, carefully examining the stratigraphy In each case, but without locating any ancient structures or sherds older than Roman. Most of these test pits were placed within the "peribolos" (I.e., the Fortress), where he found only Byzantine houses and churches. A total of nine such structures were discovered In an area some 290 m In length and varying from one-half to one-third that In width, with the Individual units taken down to sterile soil. The only evidence for an ancient structure was northwest of the church of St. John, where Monceaux conjectured the Temple of Poseidon was located. However, these remains could not be clearly ascribed to an ancient temple since they were so displaced that not even a plan could be determined; he felt further excavation In this area would be expensive and yield no solid results (1903:15-16). Stais also sank test trenches 1n the Later Stadium and the Roman Theater without positive results. Based on this work, Stais asserted that the lack of ancient buildings is to be attributed to several major factors. He agreed with Monceaux that enemy Invasions took their toll on the Sanctuary, but this was not the exclusive cause, as the Frenchman had concluded. Stais attributed the poor preservation to the lack of adequate soil cover, leaving structures more exposed and thus subject to complete destruction. Within the fortress he described the soil cover over most of the area as only one to two meters down to sterile, and this would have 89 been even thinner In the past, providing little protection (1903:16-17). The problem here, again, is the assumption that the Fortress wall was the Temenos. This difficulty was addressed by Flmmen (1916) who argued that the wall was not ancient at all, but rather belonged to the Christian era This assertion was not heeded, though, and the old view persisted as late as 1932. In that year, Fowler published an extensive account of Isthmia, Including the Hexamlllon, the Sanctuary, and Rachl, In the first volume of the Corinth series (Fowler and Stllwell 1932). This tome presented the contemporary knowledge on sites within the Korlnthia. The section on Isthmia was based largely on historical accounts of the site, Including travelers' observations, and Monceaux's work. Fowler added his own assessments based on visits to the site. He noted that the east end of the Hexamlllon, which he dated prior to 146 B.C. when Korlnth was still Independent, is covered by canal dump (1932:52). The Fortress walls, he believed, were ancient, with later modifications. Of the three gates, he considered the West Gate the most important because It faced Korlnth, this despite the fact that the architecture Is clearly more haphazard than that of the other two entrances. The South Gate he placed In an "Hellenic period" with Byzantine modifications, while he followed Monceaux In assigning the Northeast Gate to the Roman era. Within the Fortress he listed foundations for two Byzantine chapels and a large structure with squared blocks. The Doric architectural pieces he noted were primarily near the north, south, and west walls, none In proximity to the eastern edge. From these fragments he dated the Temple of Poseidon to 90 the late sixth century B.C., after the Temple of Apollo at Korlnth; the site of the Temple he takes to be the church of St. John (1932:63-67). Fowler assigned the Ionic column drums near the Northeast Gate to the Temple of Palalmon. He also made note of many fragments of buildings, altars, statue bases and statues within the Fortress; these he dated to the Roman and Byzantine periods. The remains behind the Theater that Monceaux had mentioned Fowler Interpreted as houses of priests, lodgings for athletes and merchants, and shrines and other temples. He asserted that a city developed In association with the Sanctuary and Its Games. Further west, he noted the presence of a spring, which In antiquity had a reservoir for storage, and cuttings to channel the water. He also described the layout of the settlem ent on Rachl (1932:68-70). As a statem ent of existing knowledge this work was adequate, but failed to take Into account Fimmen's Interpretation, thus perpetuating an error that was the root cause of basic flaws In understanding the basic layout of the site. This situation created an anomaly In comprehending how the site functioned. A major step towards rectifying this problem was taken by two British scholars, R.J.H. Jenkins and A.H.S. Megaw. In 1931 and 1932 they dug a series of exploratory trenches In various parts of the site 1n an attempt to resolve the Issue of the date of the enclosure wall. After a preliminary examination of the site, they asserted that everything except the arch was post-Roman In date. Excavation along the outer face of the Fortress' west wall between Towers 10 and 11 revealed the foundations of a Byzantine house, with no pottery earlier than Roman even at maximum depth of the cultural deposits. 91 Further digging near the Hexamlllon 150 m w est of the Fortress (Unit G1) revealed some evidence of a protelchlsma and tafros. All Indications were that similar building techniques were employed In both the Hexamlllon and the Fortress (well-shaped facing blocks with mortared rubble; occasional headers to act as bonding agents) with a date In the sixth century A.D. based on comparisons with other Byzantine fortifications. On the authority of Procopius (Buildings IV, 2, 27-28), the date of construction was narrowed down to the reign of Justinian, and the Fortress was subsequently referred to as his (Jenkins and Megaw 1931-2:75-77). The majority of the Roman pottery they examined dated to the second century A.D., suggesting the site had expanded considerably to the east by the time of Pausanias’ visit. Jenkins and Megaw concluded there was no Creek sanctuary or settlement In this location. The earliest remains near the wall were contemporary with the Roman arch, dating from the first century A.D. The site hit Its zenith in the second century but declined in the third. In the sixth century Justinian built the Hexamlllon; this location was chosen for the Fortress to protect the wall's eastern end, since Isthmia was a defensible point near the sea. Corinth and Isthmia bracketed the Hexamlllon (Jenkins and Megaw 1931 -2:82-83). In an attempt to locate the Greek sanctuary, Jenkins and Megaw examined the area northwest of Kyras Vrysi, at the edge of a deep ravine. Classical Greek remains were exposed, Including fragmentary foundations and an elaborate hydraulic system with channels and reservoirs. They concluded that this had been the site of Poseidon's Temple that had 92 succumbed to seismic and erosional activity, leaving behind no clue of Its actual position (1931-2:83). With this work some major problems were resolved. The Fortress could no longer be Identified with the Sanctuary proper, but the Temple was still to be located. In addition, the Fortress, although properly designated Early Byzantine, was dated over 100 years too late. A long-term excavation of the site began In 1952 under the direction of Oscar Broneer of the University of Chicago (1953:183). His intent was to locate the Temple of Poseidon that could then be used as a reference point In reconstructing the ancient site topography. He estimated that the Temple was not far from the Fortress, probably at a higher elevation so that column drums and other material could be more easily rolled down to be used In the wall. A spot 400 m west of the Fortress seemed a likely candidate due to Its elevation and the quantity of roof tiles scattered on the surface. A long exploratory trench quickly revealed the foundations. As these were cleared additional corroborative evidence appeared in the form of marble roof tiles and a section of raking sima. The extensive (56.2x25.7 m) foundations had witnessed episodes of renovation, discussed above (Broneer 1953:184-188). Over the next ten years Broneer excavated throughout the Sanctuary, concentrating on the area around the Temple of Poseidon but investigating the Fortress and other locations as well. During the second season in 1954, the key periods In the Temple’s history were revealed. Also examined was the intricate water supply system with terracotta pipes within the Temenos, along with test soundings in the Theater, the Roman Bath, 93 adjacent to the Cyclopean Wall, and the Fortress. In the latter he cleared a short section of wall and one tower, revealing blocks from the Temple (Broneer 1955:117, 122-124,140). In the succeeding two seasons, concerted digging resulted In the following: 1) Excavation of the north Temenos dump, containing debris from the Archaic Temple. 2) Exposure of the two altars associated with the Temple of Poseidon. 3) Clearing of the Temenos walls. 4) The unexpected discovery of the Earlier Stadium, with Its elaborate starting line, near the Temple of Poseidon. 5) Revealing a structure that may be the Roman Palalmonlon. 6) Completion of work on Rachl. 7) Clearing the South Gate of the Fortress, exposing the Intricate nature of the construction of the Fortress, and a paved road leading to It (Broneer 1958:21,36). The fourth campaign, 1957-1958, witnessed extensive work covering the prehistoric to late medieval periods at the site. While attempting to define fortification walls that ran across the Isthmus, evidence came to light that the earliest walls dated to the Late Bronze Age. In the Sanctuary proper, a large circular pit south of the Temenos was Investigated. At the Fortress, work continued around the South Gate that was more fully investigated. In addition, the area along the outside face of the wall between Towers 6 and 8 was excavcated and the Towers themselves cleared, revealing the nature of the original structure with Intermediate wooden floors and possibly wooden roofs on some. The lower levels of several Towers had evidently served as dumps for the garrison. Several exploratory trenches were placed on the slope outside the south wall of the Fortress In an effort to get below Byzantine levels. 94 These units yielded pottery, lamp, and glass fragments from the first two centuries after Christ. What may have been a small bath was situated near the southwest corner of Tower 7; the structure, with a stuccoed tank, dates to the second century AD. and may have had cultlc affiliations (Broneer 1959:300, 320 -321). These results seemed to confirm the general chronology of the Fortress area proposed by Jenkins and Megaw (1931 -2). The concluding years of this episode In the exploration of the site witnessed the completion of certain tasks already begun and efforts to define the true extent of the remains. Excavators completed the clearing of the Large Circular Pit, reaching a maximum depth of 19.75 m. Broneer suggests It was a well that was filled between 470 and 480 B.C. The Cult Caves were also excavated. Each consisted of one chamber, with five spaces In one case and six In the other for dining couches. Other areas examined Included the Later Stadium, the Theater, the Northwest Reservoir, the Sacred Glen, and the West Foundation. In addition, agricultural activity revealed some ancient blocks in an area between Isthmia and the village of Hexamilia, 4 km to the west (Broneer 1962:1-2,4-7). Broneer (1962:18) and Wiseman (1978) suggest these were from a fortification wall tied to other stretches on the Agios Demetrios ridge to the south, which they believe represent portions of a Hellenistic trans-lsthmian defensive work. This phase of the excavations aided in proper understanding of the site through the elucidation of the basic topography of key monuments. Several erroneous conjectures were categorically dispelled and occupational chronology was worked out In a more detailed fashion. The extent of the site was realized by means of test soundings, even though efforts centered 95 around the Temenos area. The Medieval/Byzantine portions of the site received substantial attention, but only in so far as these were tied to the Hexamilion and the Fortress, the most obvious monuments of that period in the area. This is not to slight the work. The Hexamilion had been largely ignored by other scholars in terms of active examination. One of the few efforts along these lines was a salvage operation by the Greek Archaeological Service involving measurement and photographing of a portion of the wall, along with a tower, which were destroyed in the process of widening the Athens-Korlnth road (Pallas 1961-2;78-79). A new phase of excavation was initiated in 1967 under the direction of Paul A. Clement of UCLA. Among the areas Investigated in the first season of renewed work were the roadway west and north of the Temple of Poseidon, two water channels, a Cyclopean wall, and segments of the Fortress. Nineteen sarcophagos burials, the earliest containing sixth century B.C. Attic pottery, were excavated in a field west of Kyras Vrysi (Megaw 1968). The focus was on the Fortress, where several areas were examined. The Northeast Gate was completely excavated. Two graves with a total of thirteen skeletons and eight coins were found against the north side of the Gate. The coins dated to the third quarter of the fifth century AD. Since the graves clearly postdated the military wall, the Justinianic date of the Fortress was called into question. The marble road through the Gate was in use at least as late as the second half of the fourth century AD. Two Ionic column fragments near the Gate were identified as coming from the Theater, countering Monceaux's contention that they had been part of the Palaimonion (Clement 1968:137-140). 96 Along the west curtain of the Fortress, Clement excavated in and around Tower 14. He found two one-room structures, late Medieval in date, abutting on the Fortress wall In this area. At a later time, a doorway was broken into Tower 14. The West Gate was opened through the wall to accomodate the residents. Beneath these structures, a wall of large ashlar blocks, evidently Roman In date, was traced to the north and west for some 50 m; 18.5 m south of Tower 14 It turned east and continued under the Fortress wall. The precise nature of this large structure is still a matter of debate. To the northwest of Tower 14 along the Hexamilion, work was also carried out on the North Drain. Its large size and swallow-tail cuttings seemed to fit a date In the late first century A.D. (Clement 1968:142). The following year work continued on the Fortress. Towers 2 and 15 were cleared. In the former, excavators found a passage through the Hexamlllon to the Interior of the Tower. The latter, In the northwest corner of the Fortress, revealed a well-preserved Interior vault. In addition, Just to the west of Tower 15 a previously unknown gate through the Hexamlllon was revealed; as with the other gates, It too had been blocked off In Its last period of use. Elsewhere in the vicinity, 119 burials, primarily sixth to fifth centuries B.C., were opened In the field west of the village, In an area dubbed the Lambrou Cemetery. Most of the graves were sarcophagos burials, but several, among them the latest, were simple pits in the rock covered with stone slabs. A great deal of the funerary pottery was Attic, coinciding well with documents stating that the Isthmian 6ames were well attended by Athenians (Fraser 1969). 97 The third season witnessed digging outside the Fortress near Towers 9 and 10, revealing fragmentary building walls, a section of a cobbled court, and part of a road leading to the South Gate; numismatic evidence suggests Late Roman, Byzantine, and Venetian occupation. Continued work around Tower 14 Indicated an Early Roman rubble wall beneath the Medieval levels. Clearing of the West Gate showed it not to have been a feature of the original fortification. Excavation of the Northeast Gate also resumed. The marble pavement was found to end just west of the Gate, the roadway continuing as a packed dirt and stone bed. At the arch, the marble pavement was two layers thick. Architectural pieces, such as column drums, capitals and cornices were used for this purpose. One of the paving blocks was a large (2.83 m high) stele erected In honor of one Lukios Kornellos Korlnthos of Korinth by his sons (Clement 1974). Placed face down in the road, it was well preserved, as was another slab that had a roster of victorious athletes. A few graves were also found in several locations near the Fortress (Clement 1971:163-167). Using the data from these excavations, Clement (1975) reevaluated the dating of the Fortress and the Hexamilion. In excavating the Northeast Gate, not only was debris cleared from the marble pavement, as Monceaux had done, but dowel holes, clamp cuttings, and joints between blocks were also cleaned, which the Frenchman had not done. This effort resulted in the discovery of a series of coins that suggests the fortifications were built in the early fifth century A.D., and not the sixth. Other coins and graves found in the Gate confirm this thesis. Although the fortifications were extensively refurbished under Justinian, perhaps including the blocking 98 wall across the Northeast Gate, the original works antedate him by more than a century. Further digging in the 1970s concentrated on the area closer to the Sanctuary proper. In a field east of the Temenos, excavation revealed a series of house foundations, a tunnel whose function could not be discerned, and a series of water lines and a pit associated with a subterranean aqueduct (Catling 1972). Of the coins from this area, none dates later than A. D. 395. Clement (1975:164) argues that the destruction of this precinct, and, indeed, the Sanctuary as a whole, can be attributed to Alaric's raid in the Peloponnesos in the 390s. In 1976, work centered on the Roman Bath, where the large mosaic floor w as uncovered. It depicts a Nereid on a sea-centaur, Eros riding a dolphin, another Nereid astride a Triton bearing a shield, with fish and octopl Interlaced in the scene. The work dates to the late first or early second century A.D. and is In an excellent state of preservation (Catling 1976; Packard 1980). By 1979, the Bath had been cleared and the functions of the Individual rooms (cauldarium, tepidarium, frigidarium, plunge baths) could be discerned (Catling 1979). In addition to excavation, a detailed topograpic survey of the Hexamilion from the Saronic Gulf to the Gulf of Korlnth was concluded in this period (Catling 1972). With the completion of various phases of the excavation, interim and final publications have appeared at intervals. The major findings from Broneer's work In the earlier stage (1952-1961) has appeared in the first volumes of the Isthmia series, dealing with the Temple of Poseidon (Broneer 1971), the topography and architecture of the Sanctuary as a unit 99 (Broneer 1973), and the terracotta lamps (Broneer 1977). Numerous preliminary reports and specialized studies have appeared In a variety of journals; they have been referred to above In the appropriate sections. Many of the Interpretations In these works have been supplemented or In some cases superseded by findings from the later work. For example, In Volume II of the Isthmia series, Broneer (1973:2) uses the rubric Justinian’s Fortress while at the same time acknowledging the evidence that Indicates an earlier date for the fortifications. The results of the second phase of major excavations since 1967 are currently being prepared for final publication. The works completed or under way deal with the Hexamlllon and the Fortress (Gregory, In Press), Greek and Roman terracotta lamps (Wohl), Inscriptions (Jordan), sculpture (Lattlmore), stamped roof tiles (Mills), Archaic and Classical pottery (Thorne), Medieval pottery (Gregory), and coins (Clement). As with the earlier stage of work, a variety of Interim reports and specialized studies, many of them alluded to above, have already appeared In journals and edited volumes. In addition, much of the information garnered from both phases of the excavation at Isthmia has been Incorporated In general reference works on the Korlnthla and Greece (Broneer 1976; Leekley and Noyes 1976:77-78; Wiseman 1978:50-51, 59-64; Hope Simpson and Dickinson 1979:63-64). This corpus of data Is used In establishing the framework within which analyses below are presented. The image of the site provided by literary sources and previous excavation aids in the Interpretation of the geophysical anomalies and surface artifact distribution examined In the present study. Despite the Importance of the Fortress and the many 100 references to It (see Testlmonla In Gregory, In Press), very little was known about the layout of the Interior. The present study affords some means to fill In these lacunae. Without the historical and archaeological background listed above, however, the current fieldwork would lack crucial reference points from which to assess the value of interpretative statements. Specifically, knowing the history of the site and nature of previous archaeological work, one can determine the chronological and functional attributes of any structures or features that are revealed. CHAPTER III THE DEBATE OVER THE TRANSITION FROM LATE ANTIQUITY TO THE EARLY BYZANTINE PERIOD

INTRODUCTION Social change Is a key issue at the very heart of what contemporary anthropological archaeology deems its domain. Defining this phenomenon at the conceptual level and then identifying it in the material record constitute major goals for archaeologists. In Greece, such matters have traditionally been dealt with in a conventional fashion, often based on a straightforward and simplistic interpretation of written records when such are available. Archaeology was usually called upon to verify certain preconceived notions, as seen in Schliemann's (1884:1) search for sites described in the Homeric epics and Andronikos* (1978) quest for Macedonian royal tombs. Until recently this was especially the case in dealing with the prehistoric and early historic periods. In these Instances the notion of change was viewed by some as a gradual process and by others as the result of foreign Intervention and violent upheaval. In dealing with the Late Antique and Early Byzantine periods, though, the notion of gradual evolution from one stage to the next receives short shrift. Many scholars since the Renaissance have viewed this shift as a wrenching experience

101 102 that created a serious disjuncture between what came before and what followed after. In this view, the society that emerged in the period between the fifth and seventh centuries A.D. supposedly represents a distinct break with its ancient antecedents. This difference is encapsulated in the decline of civic institutions, and the decay of urban forms in general. To date, the archaeological data brought to this debate have been frequently misused or only partly employed to help resolve this problem. As a result, there is still considerable disagreement as to the best way to characterize the transition from Late Antiquity to the Early Byzantine period. Some believe that the social, political, religious, and economic alterations created a society different in quality, i.e., Medieval. The key discriminating factor that distinguishes the Byzantine and Classical eras is often given as the decay of urban life. Such a viewpoint has been more pronounced in scholarship on the Western Empire. Indeed, most of the earlier discussion concerning this transition centered on events in the West (Montesquieu 1734; Gibbon 1776-1788; Bury 1923a; Baynes 1943). Intense scholarly interest in developments in the Eastern Empire during this same historical period is a relatively recent phenomenon. In part at least, the present study is consonant with the effort to bring into focus the rather murky image of Early Byzantine society. A host of scholars in the past have gone to considerable lengths to dismiss the Byzantine era as a degenerate and undeserving successor to Classical civilization, to the point that the term Byzantine itself often has a pejorative connotation. Such a perspective has carried over to some extent in the work of many contemporary scholars. If continuity or gradual transition with the maintenance of Important urban features can be verified, however, a reevaluation of this position will be required. At present, a clear bias against things Byzantine exists in historical and archaeological circles. This attitude derives In large part from the tradition of Classical studies. The present study employs an evolutionary or developmental perspective in examining material from Isthmia. it is hoped that the analysis of site-specific data will provide some insights into the nature of the transition to the Medieval period in the Aegean region.

THE DEBATE IN THE LITERATURE The fate of the Roman Empire from the fourth century A.D. and later is an immensely complex issue. The situation is often discussed in terms of decline and collapse, but the evidence is ambiguous as to the exact nature of the conditions both in the East and West, beyond a general agreement that the political structure was in disarray. Whatever the particulars, the Roman imperial system and territory in the West slipped from the control of Roman citizens to a variety of barbarian groups. To many scholars, this diluting of direct Roman influence was catastrophic to the social and political fabric. The difficulty has been to identify the factors that caused this shift. Because of the central nature of this issue to an understanding of European and Mediterranean history, scholars have repeatedly tackled this problem. Perhaps in an attempt not to dissipate their efforts by trying to discuss all possible elements, many historians have focused on one 104 cause or a limited set of causes to explain the decline. An unfortunate result of this approach is that many of the explanations that have been propounded are overly simplistic, ignoring important alternatives. The scholars should not be castigated too severely on this point, however, since concentrating on certain factors at the expense of others is probably the only way to make the topic manageable. Complicating matters even further is the fact that the imperial political structure persisted for another millennium in the East. The literature reviewed below deals with both the Eastern and Western Empires. This examination of secondary sources is meant to be representative of the contemporary academic debate rather than an exhaustive enumeration of all who have dealt with the problem. There are many topics of potential interest in dealing with the Later Roman Empire. The focus of the present study is the nature of the historical and cultural connections in Aegean society from the fourth to the sixth century. For heuristic purposes, the debate over the nature of the transition from Classical antiquity to the Medieval period in the East is presented here in terms of the opposed perspectives of discontinuity and continuity. Byzantine historiography has oscillated between these two poles. Early historians dealing with Byzantium stressed its role as a conduit of Hellenic culture between antiquity and the present. In many ways, this approach reduced Byzantine civilization to the status of guardian and failed to evaluate this society as a thriving, independent entity w ith inherent qualities, the value of which did not depend on connections to antecedents and successors. This simplistic view of continuity saw a direct line of inheritance from ancient to modern Greece 105 and minimized Byzantine Innovation, creativity, and contributions. A reaction to this simple uni lineal approach was forged In the nineteenth century and found expression In the views of scholars like Fallmerayer who denied any "racial" connection between ancient and modern Greeks (Wlnnifrlth 1983:173). The multiethnic nature of the Byzantine state and the period of the Tourkokratia were believed to have diluted the ancient Greek Influence. Fallmerayer (1830) could point to fundamental differences between ancient Greece and Byzantium, such as the shift In religious orientation from paganism to Christianity. As a result, much past and current scholarship views Late Antiquity and Early Byzantine as clearly distinct eras (Bury 1923b; Brown 1971). Although there is a continuation in terms of some social phenomena, a substantive dlsjuncture Is seen as demarcating one period from the next. This discontinuity school of thought associates the end of antiquity with the decline of the polls and the complex of civic institutions subsumed under this rubric. Many historians from the time of Gibbon (1776-1788) and before considered the fourth and fifth centuries A.D. as the turning point, when the disintegration of the Western Roman Empire, the collapse of the system of municipal administration, and Incursions of various barbarian groups ushered In the Middle Ages. Although not as adversely affected, the eastern portion of the empire also suffered depredations and changed sufficiently in form to warrant a new designation, I.e., Byzantine. Prior to the twentieth century, most adherents of the discontinuity thesis focused almost exclusively on the West. In addition, they stressed the role of prime movers (e.g., barbarian Invasions, moral degeneracy) as 106 single causative factors for the collapse of the Roman Empire. Since the 1920s, the trend has been to identify basic underling factors (e.g., land tenure system, social relationships) that underwent radical transformation, thus rupturing the bonds that held Classical civilization together. This version of the discontinuity thesis has been the dominant perspective in Byzantine studies for over sixty years. Some scholars feel that advocates of discontinuity have gone too far in stating their case. The result has been the emergence of another perspective emphasizing the elements of similarity and continuity rather than those of disparity and disjuncture. As mentioned above, in its earliest form this perspective was also applied uncritically, simply assuming continuity from ancient Greece, through the Byzantine era, to the present. Medieval and contemporary Greek societies were examined for what scholars could learn about the Classical period. As more recently constituted, the continuity perspective argues for the Inherent value of each phase in Greek history as a subject of study, and espouses a developmental sequence that ties the periods together. Many adherents of this revised form of the continuity thesis take an evolutionary approach that sees change occurring in increments. For the Byzantine East, this process eventually resulted In a cultural synthesis between the sixth and eighth centuries A.D. that was different yet derived from Late Antique society. A logical extension of this perspective, which some scholars have adopted, is to view Classical culture in the same manner, as an evolving entity that was substantially different in the second century A.D. from what it was in the fourth century B.C. Those who argue for discontinuity 107 in defining the emergence of Medieval society Imply that ancient society was monolithic and static. In essence, the continuity perspective argues for examination of the Classical and Medieval periods as expressions of ongoing cultural processes. There Is a fundamental disagreement between the two approaches (discontinuity, continuity) In regard to the role of cities In the Early Byzantine period. Those favoring the discontinuity viewpoint argue that the decay of urban life Is diagnostic, and perhaps causative, of the break, with the disappearance of civic institutions playing havoc with social order; a much less sophisticated system took Its place (Kazhdan 1954; Foss 1972). The opposite camp sees cities and their appurtenances as surviving essentially Intact from antiquity; the changes that do occur do not substantially alter the complex hierarchical relationships that define urban existence (Ostrogorsky 1959). Thus, examination of the status of cities and the nature of urban life is pivotal In resolving this controversy. In both Eastern and Western Europe, the level and type of urban activity are crucial In delineating the boundary between ancient and Medieval societies. The civic Institutions in question Included a municipal administrative structure centered on a council or boule composed of aristocratic land-owners who made executive and legislative decisions for the polls and shouldered the responsibility of financing major public works. Other Important Institutions Included a system of taxation, a monetary economy, a system of education based on Greek and Latin literature and philosophy, and a complex social structure with a variety of distinct classes (Kazhdan and Cutler 1982). Another Important element In this debate is the distinction between urban and rural settlements. It Is not always clear what scholars on either side of this debate mean by urban and rural, but certain traits are Implied. Urban settlements Included recognizable cities (possessing the characteristics listed above) and the adjacent territory or hinterland under municipal control. This hinterland contained a number of smaller settlements, towns or villages, which were linked to the administrative structure of the main city. Rural areas, which were distinct from outliers In the polis system, are more difficult to define because there is little historical evidence relating to such regions. In general, rural areas seem to be characterized by scholars as geographically isolated, primarily agricultural or pastoral in subsistence, with a low degree of social differentiation, a local administration dependent on less formal mechanisms (e.g., clan or tribal social organization) than the boule or council, and lacking large settlements with monumental public works (I.e., large temples, agora or forum, paved roads, theater, gymnasium). Areas such as Arkadla and Eplros are often depicted In this fashion. As such, rural areas In antiquity and the Medieval period can be categorized as folk societies. According to Redfleld’s (1973) criteria, a folk society is geographically Isolated, homogeneous, and self-sufficient. This statement of analogy should not be construed as advocacy of the use of Redfleld's folk-urban continuum In analyzing ancient and Medieval society. Instead, there seems to be the tacit acceptance of a Redfield-like model by historians concerned with social and political phenomena during these two periods, although such a model Is not fully elaborated by any scholar. 109 Nonetheless, this type of urban-rural dichotomy is implied in the work of scholars on either side of the discontinuity-continuity controversy. The work of various scholars is reviewed below as a means of highlighting some of the key aspects of each perspective and of demonstrating the use of such an urban-rural idiom. As mentioned above, early advocates of the discontinuity thesis often alluded to a prime mover to explain the collapse of the Western Empire. Some saw the cause as external, e.g., the barbarian invasions, while others attributed the decline to internal factors, such as the demise of the ruling elite from lead poisoning due to the use of metal water pipes. These explanations proved to be as unsatisfactory as early attempts to support the continuity thesis on the basis of presumed cultural survivals from antiquity to the present. The following examination of the discontinuity perspective will only be concerned with the more sophisticated, multi-causal approach to the problem that has emerged since the 1920s. The views of Rostovtzeff (1926) Illustrate some basic components of the discontinuity thesis. Rostovtzeff was not the originator of this viewpoint, but his was a considerable contribution to this line of argument and thus is valuable as an example of this perspective. Concentrating on the West, he stresses the role of powerful social and economic forces in the collapse of the Roman Empire. Tracing the roots of the decline to the first century B.C., he characterizes the victory of Augustus as the culmination of an alliance between an Italian bourgeoisie and proletariat, who were led by ambitious politicians and military leaders. These combined forces ended the hegemony of Rome's two major privileged classes, the senators and equestrians. The other Julian and Claudian emperors continued this struggle, fostering development of the state by enhancing the role of the urban bourgeoisie throughout the Empire. The Flavian rulers completed the ruthless elimination of the classes that had held power In the late Republic. The emperors consciously encouraged the development of a strong middle class through their support of urban culture. Under the Antonines, there was a virtual constitutional monarchy that rested on an urban middle class and self-governing cities. The urban and rural poor received few benefits from this system (Rostovtzeff 1926:v111-1x). The Inherent flaw in this system, Rostovtzeff claims, was In the inability of the middle class to support the fabric of an International state. Although this group depended to a large extent on the labor of the common classes, It was unwilling to open its ranks to these lower orders; the government bureaucracy exhibited a similar reluctance. The emperors failed in their attempts to mitigate this situation by promoting urbanization and by supporting peasants in rural areas and workers in the cities. An Intense level of antagonism was generated between the classes and resulted In the crises of the third century A.D. The army, drawn largely from the lower classes, expressed the views of their group and joined forces with the emperor whose ability to rule depended on the military. With the inability to reach a compromise, the struggle degenerated Into civil and social war, leading eventually to the destruction of the bourgeoisie and upper classes, and a new government emerged, following an Oriental mode of despotism based on the army, a strong bureaucracy, and Ill the peasant masses (Rostovtzeff 1926:ix). These civil wars were accompanied by depopulation, plagues, and invasion; productivity within the empire plummeted. Asia Minor and Syria reverted to a feudal system while the West was impoverished (Rostovtzeff 1926:424-425). Rostovtzeff's major thesis is that the peasantry expressed through the army its desire to share power in the Empire. A process of levelling began to assist the peasants in reaching their goal, including in the process the decimation of the bourgeoisie and the near ruin of city life. The key to reorganizing society under these circumstances was a stress on the emperor, but the reforms instituted in. the army, the imperial bureaucracy, and the tax system did not alleviate the problems. Efforts were made to strip governmental functions down to their essentials so that the lower classes could participate and also because the creative urban middle class was no longer a functioning group. This process Rostovtzeff refers to as the barbarization of the Empire. He identifies the key element underlying the decline of the Empire as the gradual absorption of the educated urban classes by the masses and the consequent simplification of all the functions of political, social, economic, and intellectual life, cutting away the very foundations of Classical civilization. A complex social system was reduced to its most primitive constituents, and urban life suffered as a result (Rostovtzeff 1926:455:486). This approach can be seen as, in part, a condemnation of Marxist ideology. Whereas Marx described the proletariat in positive terms as the driving force in social change, Rostovtzeff takes a decidedly dim view of the common classes. Rostovtzeff provides a penetrating analysis In many ways, attacking the problem from a variety of directions and tying these approaches together by means of the main thesis of social conflict. However, there are a number of difficulties with his approach. In the first place, his use of certain terms (bourgeoisie, proletariat) used to describe classes in capitalist society is not applicable to antiquity with its pre-industrial economic base. There are also inconsistencies. In some places he speaks of the destruction of the urban middle class in a military sense, while elsewhere he suggests a process of gradual absorption into the peasant fabric. His argument that government and society from the late third century on were mere shadows of their former selves seems clearly not to be the case. The assertion that members of the peasantry permeated the administrative hierarchy seems based on rather thin evidence. Finally, much of his perspective rests on a moral, ethical, and even aesthetic argument, namely that the peasants, with their more rudimentary knowledge, abilities and lack of sophistication debased Roman society, and in particular its urban character. Beyond the fact that this view is patently elitist, it is also virtually impossible to document in any thorough manner. Despite all of these deficiencies, there is a thread in Rostovtzeff’s work that is picked up by others, i.e., that the decline is empire-wide and what emerges in the fourth century A.D. and later is decidedly different from the urban culture based on Classical prototypes that had preceded it. Brown (1971) performs a sweeping analysis of this problem by dealing with social, religious, and political changes in the Roman world. He places 113 considerable stress on a general phenomenon, the debasing of culture to Its lowest common denominator. This process, he believes, precipitated the loss of a distinct identity for the intellectual elite that set the tone for ancient society. According to Brown, "The ancient world had died in the imagination of the inhabitants of the eastern Mediterranean" (1971:187). Although Brown's approach is comprehensive and has been influential, I disagree with the premise that, in cultural materialist terms, emphasizes superstructure over Infrastructure. In this respect, I contend that Rostovtzeff's simpler approach presents greater possibilities for empirical assessment of conclusions. Elements of this perspective are evident in the work of other scholars who deal with the Early Byzantine period. Reacting to the analytical work of Weiss (1977), Kazhdan and Cutler (1982) focus on structural change as the barometer for determining whether Byzantine society represents continuity or discontinuity with antiquity. They, too, emphasize the city as a major discriminating factor in this debate and argue that Balkan urban centers clearly declined in the sixth to seventh centuries A.D., and agree with Foss (1972) that a similar eclipse is evident in Asia Minor. Unlike Foss, they suggest that the preconditions for urban disaster already existed prior to the Persian invasions of the seventh century. One of the key changes that had occurred was In land ownership, with a drop in the amount of privately-owned property, which was a major element in Roman society. The supreme position of the state as a land-holder affected the autonomy of cities, decreasing the ability of municipal governments to deal effectively with local concerns as their financial resources, based on tax 114 revenues from privately-owned land, were diminished. The size and number of cities decreased. Key areas such as Asia Minor became increasingly rural In character between the fourth and sixth centuries. These conditions led to the development of an undifferentiated mass of agrarian folk subservient to the state. The Institutional structure of the ancient city eroded with these developments (Kazhdan and Cutler 1982:438-446). Another major change, according to Kazhdan and Cutler, occurred in social structure, with a simplification of the hierarchical complexity of ancient communities. The disappearance of various juridical categories coincided with the development of a uniform agrarian population, symptomatic of urban decline. Social microstructures, such as the family, came to prominence because of the dissolution of the polls and its network of social ties. In the seventh to ninth centuries the collapse of city life was quickened by the shift to a barter economy. This system depended on the personal relationship of the parties Involved in the exchange rather than on broader, more abstract principles; this led to a new Medieval system of taxation. Other signs of the degeneration of city life Included a decline In Byzantine literature, construction, and artistic output (Kazhdan and Cutler 1982:445-452). Early Byzantine society had reached a level of stagnation, and the final blow to urban culture came with invasions by Slavs, Avars, Persians, and Arabs from the sixth to the seventh centuries A.D. By the latter period cities had collapsed, taking with them the ancient social hierarchy, the traditional forms of dependence, the active circulation of currency, an "open" dally life, schools, and theaters. The Early Byzantine period was, thus, one of transition to entirely new social, 115 economic, political, and religious forms (Kazhdan and Cutler 1982:477). Kazhdan and Cutler clearly view the Early Byzantine period as representing a major departure from Late Roman society. A series of subtle assumptions underlie their work, and their conclusions flow logically out of these premises. It is a legitimate exercise, however, to assess the validity of these assumptions; if the premises can be challenged, then alternative explanations must be considered. Kazhdan and Cutler may indeed be correct In their exegesis, but alternative explanations should be weighed against their view. One important assumption is that cities are inherently positive aspects of human society; a corollary of this notion is that more complexity is better than less. Such perspectives reveal the urban bias that colors the work of many Western historians. Another way of examining the question of what happened to urban populations in the Eastern Empire in the sixth to seventh centuries is to study settlement systems as adaptive mechanisms, an approach that may lead scholars to modify, or at least define more clearly, views on urban evolution and collapse. Urban centers and the institutions that comprise them are means of adapting to environmental (natural and cultural) stresses. If large centers at some point fail to address such problems adequately, alternative solutions will be sought out. This does not mean, though, that cities will necessarily disappear, but that some of the functions of the large centers may be coopted by secondary towns if this proves to be a viable solution. The oscillations between nucleated and dispersed settlement patterns noted in regional archaeological surveys in Greece ( McDonald and Rapp 116 1972; van Andel and Runnels 1986; Bintliff and Snodgrass 1985) indicate the flexibility in the human response to fluctuations In the social and physical landscape through time. For example, in the Southern Argolid the most intense periods of occupation in terms of number of sites include EH II, LH 11-IIIB, Classical and Early Hellenistic, Late Roman, and Middle to Late Byzantine (van Andel and Runnels 1987). In these periods, the population may have been larger than in intervening phases, but more important is the degree to which people spread out over the landscape in an effort to exploit a wide variety of ecological zones. It is important to note that the periods of dispersed settlement seem to have been the most prosperous. Certain environmental and cultural factors were significant at different times. These factors Included clearing of land for agricultural purposes, shortening of fallow periods to assist in feeding a growing population, and pastoralism in economically depressed times, all of which contributed to erosion and undermined the expanded settlement system. Soil conservation techniques played a vital role in sustaining or rejuvenating a dispersed settlement regime. These methods included terracing and dam construction, and, ironically, total abandonment that permitted rapid takeover by pine and maquis cover, thus stabilizing the soil. The point of the preceding discussion is that the discontinuity thesis proposes a direct relationship between the presence of large, nucleated settlements and economic prosperity. Regional studies in Greece indicate that a settlement system focused on a number of small settlements also can be an expression of economic well-being. A detailed environmental 117 analysis is required to elaborate the ecological relationships that help to define the basis of settlement systems. Several studies of this sort have been conducted in Greece, on the island of Melos (Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982), in the southern Argolid (van Andel and Runnels 1987), and in Epiros (Dakaris, Higgs and Hey 1964). Such an analysis is beyond the scope of the present study. What I propose to demonstrate is a general adaptive capacity for societies under stress. Beyond this general theoretical level, there is also a problem with Kazhdan and Cutler's treatm ent of the concept of social change. They discuss Classical antiquity in rather static terms, as though some plateau had been reached early and later developments acted only to slightly embellish this modus vivendi. In doing so, they fall prey to the same tendency to idealize the Classical past that they disparage in other scholars. In addition, this may be an unrealistic model for how societies operate; it is similar to early functionalism in anthropology with a stress on the harmonious interplay of various parts of the system, resulting in equilibrium and stability. Change is depicted largely in negative terms, especially when it involves altering urban institutions. Instead of a continuum of human behavior, with people making choices from an array of options, Kazhdan and Cutler opt for temporal dichotomies, and qualitative assessments of the social conditions on either side of the chronological divide. Another major proponent of the notion that the Early Byzantine period marks a significant break with the urban culture of Late Antiquity is Foss who has dealt with this issue on a broad level (1972, 1977), and also in relation to particular sites, such as Sardis (1975, 1976, 1983) and Efesos (1979). He employs archaeological data to assist In examining this Issue of continuity or urban decline. At the general level, documentary evidence comes from a list of twenty cities In Byzantine Asia compiled by the erudite Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenltos in the tenth century. Foss (1972, 1977) examines the archaeological evidence for each city on the list, checking its level of prosperity in different periods. With the lone exception of Smyrna, each city seems to have continued the Classical patterns until invasions by Persians and Arabs in the seventh and eighth centuries A.D. disrupted the system. Subsequent to these traumatic events, the cities entered a period of decline, manifested in their decreased areas and populations, lack of construction and upkeep of large-scale public architecture, paucity of coins, and generally impoverished appearance, from which they never fully recovered. For example, Sardis had been a prosperous city in Late Antiquity with flourishing agricultural and commercial sectors. Foss claims the Persian forces of Chosroes burned much of the city in A.D. 616. After that date, the number of coins falls off drastically, and there seems to be no effort to rebuild many of the old structures ruined in the fire (Foss 1977:470-482). Although the cities continued to exist, Foss claims they were mere shadows of their former selves. The invasions and plagues caused a drop in population, economic decline, and the loss of public services. Many of the settlements became forts amidst small towns. This was a devastating blow to society: "Urban life, upon which the Classical Mediterranean culture had been based, was virtually at an end" (Foss 1977:486). The Byzantine 119 society that emerged from these disasters was different in kind from its Classical predecessor. Foss is to be lauded for his stress on interdisciplinary research, using archaeological data in an effort Independently to corroborate historical evidence. His handling of excavation information, though, often fails to consider alternative explanations. He accepts the archaeologists' interpretations without considering digging techniques, goals, or the competence of the excavators. For instance, he does not consider situations in which excavators may have rapidly and casually removed Byzantine remains to get at ancient materials, a not uncommon problem at Classical sites (Russell 1984). Such treatm ent of Byzantine components has a long history in Aegean archaeology, as is evident in the excavations of Byzantine churches at the Asklepeion in Athens (Koumnoudis 1876, 1877) and at Lykosoura (Leonardos 1907), among other places, and has greatly complicated the interpretation of such sites (Travlos 1939/1941). In addition, there are problems of chronology because archaeologists not well versed in Byzantine m aterials have assigned dates uncritically on the basis of historical probability. In his work, Foss deals with a number of important issues and provides a forceful argument for discontinuity. The Issues raised by Foss' analysis are dealt with in some detail in Chapter VI. Hood (1970) also enlists archaeological information to make a case for discontinuity. After examining the Late Roman to Early Byzantine remains on some small islands in the Gulf of Korinth, he concludes that the material dates to the sixth and seventh centuries A.D. Raids by Avars and Slavs began ca. AD. 540, with the turmoil so initiated continuing well into the next century. In an effort to flee the invaders, Hood argues, many natives of central and southern Greece took refuge on a variety of small islands near the coastal areas of the Peloponnesos. Many of these islands are quite small and lack fresh water sources, necessitating the construction of large cisterns. Hood suggests that the available flat land on these dry islets was used for agriculture and grazing, as were nearby sections of the mainland. The size of structures reflects permanence, which in turn indicates continued problems with the Slavic invaders. These settlements seem to be contemporary with others on Salamis, Sfakteria, Rafti, islets off of Cape Malea, and the refugee community of Spartans at Monemvasia. The basic thrust of Hood's work is that the Greeks were driven to these places and others in extremity, abandoning the cities and towns in large sections of southern Greece. He does argue that there were pockets of Greeks who maintained their presence on the mainland during this period, but the central theme is one of disruption. Recent work on such islets suggests an alternative set of circumstances to those Hood proposes. Systematic surface survey on several dry Islets in the northeastern part of the Gulf of Korinth has produced evidence for the types of settlements Hood had described elsewhere (Gregory 1986a). Careful examination of ceramics Indicates that these sites date as early as the fourth century when there was no Slavic threat to send mainland Greeks in search of refuge. Based on this and the prevalence of Late Roman sites in southern Greece, Gregory argues that the island remains represent an expanding settlement system that occupied dry off-shore locations because the adjacent mainland had 121 reached a saturation point in terms of population and exploitation of the local environment. This was a prosperous era with widening horizons. As in other areas of the world at various times, when favorable conditions generate material well-being and increased population, people are willing to exploit marginal zones in the search for other niches. If the islets also served as refuges in later centuries, they still do not represent the distinct break Hood had suggested. The continuity perspective is also represented by an array of scholars. Much of their work centers on the fate of urban culture during the period of transition. In this light, Larsen's (1938) work on Roman Greece provides an example of how the issue can be viewed in a manner quite different from that of the discontinuity advocates. Larsen challenges the equation that cities necessarily equal or coincide with material prosperity, while a village-based system is generally viewed as inferior in economic terms. The records suggest that an economic renaissance in Greece during the second century A.D. was based on a system of small dispersed settlements rather than on large towns or cities. By way of further evidence for his perspective, Larsen notes that under Roman administration in Greece there persisted a substantial degree of the federalism evident in the Hellenistic period, with local self-government, colonies, free and allied cities, leagues and tribes. Greece had indeed experienced economic decline in the first century B.C., but underwent a revival in the first two centuries of the Christian era due to the peaceful conditions that prevailed. The number of flourishing cities was considerably fewer under the Empire than before due to consolidation. Indeed, records indicate that some viewed Greece as underpopulated. Perhaps Hadrian's efforts to encourage the growth of cities at the expense of large estates reflected this perspective that saw the lack of cities as problematic because imperial administration depended on urban centers to handle local affairs, including the collection of taxes. Without the oversight of an urban administrative structure it was feared that revenues would not be forthcoming. In addition, the owners of large estates could aspire to join the imperial aristocracy through the acquisition of a title; this status released individuals from the requirement of paying taxes. Rather than being depopulated, large areas of Greece were devoted to herding and agriculture, with much of the land and the breeding of finer stock controlled by a small group of wealthy men. Thessaly produced enough wheat for export. Olive oil was another major agricultural export. Horses were raised in various places and sold in Italy for the hippodromes and the cavalry. Patras, Kos, and Amorgos were major textile manufacturing centers. Mines and quarries were intensively exploited. Representative of the vitality of this system was the ability of Greece to withstand the attack of the Heruli in the A.D. 260s, despite the sack of Athens. In fact, Greece seems to have been largely unaffected by the monetary crisis that afflicted the Empire in the West during the third century A.D. (Larsen 1938:441-496). The period Larsen discusses is earlier than the Late Roman and Early Byzantine with which this study is concerned. His analysis, though, is instructive for the problem at hand. The paucity of large cities in a period of material prosperity indicates the importance of not making rapid judgments as to the elements necessary for a smoothly functioning system. Even at a reduced scale of urban development, various civic institutions persisted essentially unaltered (Larsen 1938:492). Thus, the decline in the number of cities or in their size that occurs later need not translate into a qualitative difference, marking a sharp cultural break. Instead, the shift can be viewed as one option in an adaptive pattern of proven viability. Furthermore, the nature of the data is such that it is difficult to determine the numbers of settlements or sites. It seems that certain conventional perspectives, on both sides of the continuity-discontinuity issue, developed without the benefit of a substantial body of data, but this is not the fault of the theorists since much of the necessary information is only now becoming available. To be certain, Larsen's argument about prosperity in Greece has not gone unchallenged. Thompson (1959) asserts that the year A.D. 267 was a crucial turning point in the history of Athens. He claims the Herulian attack was sudden and catastrophic. The burned structures of the Agora were dismantled and used in the construction of an inner circuit wall that dramatically reduced the size of the city. Certain civic institutions, such as the ephebic system, came to an end. Thompson contends that the major reconstruction that took place in the ancient Agora in the fifth century represents contraction rather than expansion, with public structures that had once been on the edges of the city now replaced by buildings in the center. In the sixth century, this limited resurgence was terminated by the Slavic incursions. Some of the evidence Thompson employs can be used to reach conclusions other than those he presents, as is the case with Larsen. The rebuilding of the ancient Agora can be interpreted as revival on a 124 considerable scale. The rapid renewal of various crafts that Thompson mentions may denote the vitality of the system despite the exigencies of the period. Dyson's (1979) work In Italy deals with some key Issues concerning the relationship between urban and rural areas In antiquity. He argues for multi-disciplinary study of local and regional history based on defined territorial units that encompass both towns and their associated hinterlands. The main Instrument In such Investigation Is archaeological survey, but Classical scholars have not employed this tool to anything near its full potential because of the problems associated with borrowing techniques and ideas from another discipline while lacking some of the requisite theoretical background. Systematic surface survey In certain areas of Italy has provided a clear view of the complexity of life in even the most rural areas. The use of standardized tiles, baths, mosaics, and lead pipes was widespread in Italy during Late Roman times and suggest extensive outside contacts. On the basis of such data, Dyson calls Into doubt the self-sufficiency of any villa. Instead, he argues they formed a complex Interacting local social and economic system. In this context, towns provided services for a well-populated countryside. Markets in these towns served as magnets for long distance trade, skills, and various types of social Intercourse. The model that Dyson presents seems appropriate for Greece as well as Italy, perhaps throughout most of the fourth century. It accomodates rather well the data gleaned from historical sources by Larsen. 125 The theme of continuity with ancient urban forms Is clearly presented by Gregory (1985b). The persistence of ancient urban institutions is attested to by the presence of an urban aristocracy that maintained many of the traditional forms of municipal administration and the social hierarchy. Villas of the wealthy in Greece tended to be built near cities, indicating the close ties of the aristocracy to the centers. Having thus set the stage, Gregory then alludes,to the major debate over the issue of whether Eastern Mediterranean cities survived the crisis period of the seventh and eighth centuries. The limited nature of historical documents for this period enhances the value of archaeological evidence, but such data are often misapplied. Citing the case of numismatics, he points out that a decline in the number of coins retrieved by excavation is generally interpreted as a hallmark of a depressed economy; however, such an empire-wide phenomenon need not necessarily have resulted in a devastated economy on the local level. In addition, Gregory notes the large number of poleis indicated by some documents and by archaeological survey that belong to this Late Antique period (Gregory 1985b:272-273). As for the destruction wrought by the Slavic invasions, the evidence can provide a perspective drastically in contrast to the conventional one, i.e., that the barbarian incursions contributed mightily to urban collapse. Gregory argues that various cities, including key centers such as Athens, Corinth, Patras, and Sparta, weathered the storm successfully, with most civic institutions intact. Indeed, he suggests that it was these very institutions that made cities the bulwarks against the foreigners and formed the base from which the Hellenization of the the Slavs proceeded. The success of 126 this process in southern Greece speaks to the vitality of the urban culture on which it was based (Gregory 1985b:273). The scholars who advocate the continuity thesis do not deny the prospect of change and the existence of significant differences In Greek society In various periods. What they do oppose Is the assertion that a fundamental and wholesale restructuring of social, political, and economic relationships and Institutions set Early Byzantine Greece on a path so irretrievably different from its Classical roots as to constitute an essentially new, and in many ways degenerate, entity. Many of the current advocates of discontinuity, such as Kazhdan and Cutler, make a distinction between Classical and Medieval society not to disparage the latter but rather in part to provide Byzantine historiography with its own distinct identity. As such, there Is something of value In each of the perspectives. The preceding review of the major positions concerning the transition from ancient to Medieval society in the Aegean area is not intended to be exhaustive. Rather, an attempt has been made to Indicate the major thrust of each perspective. What emerges from this review Is the Importance of understanding regional variation within the Roman Empire and how that differentiation contributes to local developments. This point is particularly Important In the context of the present study. Most of the scholars reviewed above deal with the Western Empire or with Byzantine territory outside of Greece. What the discontinuity theorists say about Asia Minor may be entirely correct. The situation in Greece, however, may have been quite different because it was not subject to the same influences, e.g., the Persian and Arab invasions of the seventh century. The 127 data from Isthmia are valuable in providing an example of the regional variation that may have characterized the Eastern Empire. A concerted effort is made by both sides in the debate to detach their work from the traditional monolithic approach that focused exclusively on large-scale movements; these were often improperly applied across the board. An interdisciplinary focus characterizes both the continuity and discontinuity theses. Archaeology is particularly important in this regard, along with environmental reconstruction and demographic studies. The historian’s lack of familiarity with the theoretical and methodological elements of this discipline, however, has led to misapplication of data by some. Those who have paid the most attention to the issue of transition tend to stress the importance of variation in the archaeological record for different areas, and realize what those data can or cannot legitimately suggest. The idea of continuity does not preclude change; rather, it assumes that later developments have a foundation in prior forms. The stress on regional variation and local developments is akin to Sahlins' (1960) concept of specific evolution and Steward’s (1955) notion of multilinear evolution, although the scholars mentioned above do not couch their discussions in these terms. According to Sahlins, specific evolution refers to the processes by which organisms or cultures adapt to the particular conditions of their environment, resulting in diversity and specialization. Steward makes essentially the same point, arguing that the different ecological conditions to which humans must respond leads cultures along a variety of developmental lines; the flexibility and ability 128 to innovate that characterize culture allow people to pursue their needs and interests along a variety of paths, limited only by environmental and technological parameters. These two concepts are not deterministic since variation of cultural expression is emphasized. A central concern of this study, then, is to consider the issue of the transition from Late Antiquity to the Early Byzantine era as reflected in the evidence from Isthmia. Key questions that are asked include the following: Is it possible to trace the development from one stage to the next? What does the alteration in site function tell us about the supposed decay of urban life In the fifth to seventh centuries A.D. in the Byzantine Empire, i.e., is the thesis of urban collapse supported or not, and if so, to what degree? Through the examination of the Byzantine Fortress at Isthmia one may be able to approach this problem from a site-specific perspective. Although not an urban center in the conventional sense, it was a major religious sanctuary from at least the seventh century B.C. and as such was closely tied to a regional settlement complex in the Korinthia. The extant remains seem to indicate a substantial changeover in site function through its long career, from primarily religious and social to essentially military. In order to comprehend better this metamorphosis, a thorough examination of the Fortress area, both in terms of assessing the results of previous excavations and the findings of the geophysical exploration and surface collection that form the core research of this study, has been conducted. The results of this analysis are presented in the next chapter. The layout of the Fortress is detailed In an attempt to understand its function as the linchpin in a regional settlement pattern 129 focusing on defense of the strategic Isthmus of Korinth, the gateway into southern Greece. With such data in hand, the Isthmian Fortress can be compared to other forts elsewhere in the Mediterranean to determine if it in some way was part of an Empire-wide network. If such a correlation can be drawn, it might imply a high level of standardization and communication, and may shed light on the nature of the transition from Late Antiquity to Early Byzantine in the Aegean region. CHAPTER IV PRESENTATION AND ANALYSIS OF DATA

GEOPHYSICAL DATA hagnetometry. Magnetic prospecting was the most extensively applied of the four geophysical techniques, covering an area of 14,700 m2 inside the Fortress (54.2% of the interior-see Figure 4), ca. 58 m2 near the Roman Bath, and 300 m2 at the eastern terminus of the Hexamilion. All of these data have been plotted as dot-density maps using the MAGPAC software provided by Geometries, Inc. In addition, the readings from the 1985 part of the survey, comprising 5,100 m2 inside the Fortress, have been plotted as a contour map using the PLTCON program. These maps provide the basic material for analysis. Fortress. Prior to conducting the magnetic survey, a key concern centered on the magnetic susceptibility of the surface and near surface materials, including soil, rocks (building stone and naturally occurring), and artifacts. If the contrast in the magnetic susceptibility of the soil on the one hand and of archaeological features on the other hand is not of sufficient magnitude, the archaeological targets will be indistinguishable from the surrounding matrix. The primary targets of interest in the Fortress were definable structures, most of which we assumed would be of stone, at least at the foundation level. Traces of at least five stone 130 131 structures visible at or above the present ground surface and reports of earlier investigations indicating the existence of buried buildings formed the basis for this assumption. The visible structures, the scattered worked blocks, and the abundant rubble strewn throughout the interior of the Fortress are all composed of limestone or a dense sandstone. These rocks tend to have a low magnetic susceptibility. The soil in the Fortress contains substantial amount of iron and thus has a high susceptibility (von Frese, personal communication 1985). Due to this contrast, subsurface stone structures should be pronounced in magnetic prospecting. The other major category of target Included items such as large concentrations of ceramics, baked clay features (e.g., clay-lined hearths), and metalluragical or ceramic kilns. Such features, especially kilns and hearths, exhibit a high degree of thermoremanent magnetization, offering a substantial contrast to the soil, and are thus easily detected by magnetometry. In addition to these large features, iron artifacts also have a strong magnetic signature and their detection is an important aspect of this survey since the Fortress was a military installation in which iron certainly was used for armaments and a variety of tools. A major problem In this regard is the need to discriminate between artifacts from the desired periods and modern scrap. To mitigate this difficulty, all discarded metal was collected from the surface and removed to an area at least 20 m from the magnetometer. Several large concentrations of metal could not be moved and distorted the readings In certain areas. Some modern iron Is probably also burled in the ground and makes the interpretation of certain 132 anomalies problematic. Another source of "noise" is burning on the surface that imparts thermoremanent magnetization to the soil. Burned patches were limited in number and extent with the exception of a 20 m x 40 m area in the northeast section of the Fortress. The G-856 magnetometer can record fluctuations in magnetic field intensity as low as 0.1 nT, permitting detection of small magnitude magnetic anomalies. Papamarinopoulos et al. (1985:484) point out the need for such a sensitive instrument in order to pick up the relatively weak signals given off by walls, roads, and ditches, features one could expect to encounter in the Fortress. Figure 5 presents a dot-density image of the total geomagnetic intensity for all areas surveyed within the Fortress. Regional field strength is 45,000 nT. The diurnal fluctuation was removed in a simple linear fashion. The MAGPAC package takes a mean from the base station readings and adds or subtracts each field reading from this average to eliminate the diurnal effect. The diurnal fluctuation varied considerably. On some days, base station readings were relatively uniform so that the diurnal effect was minimal; maps generated from raw field readings and from diurnal-corrected data would exhibit only minor differences. When base station readings changed considerably during the day, though, Images of uncorrected readings would differ radically from those of corrected data; maps of uncorrected readings could even exhibit large apparent anomalies where none existed or mask the existence of cultural features. In an effort to standardize the information for presentation on a general image, the minimum reading that is plotted is 44,900 nT and the 133 contour Interval is set at 10 nT. These levels were settled on after various test plots to determine what figures would provide the clearest image. In most instances, setting the contour interval below 10 nT made the image too dark and obscured the outline of any anomaly. The minimum reading was set at 44,900 nT to cut out the extremely low readings which leave large blank spots and also make it difficult to identify anomalies; most readings tended to cluster between 44,900 and 45,050 nT. This procedure creates a uniform scale for the entire survey area. Darker areas on the image represent higher readings, while lighter areas with lower readings suggest walls and certain other anomalies. A Zenith Z~ 100 Persona) Computer was used to generate a dot-density image for each of the thirty-six units surveyed over the two field seasons. These individual plots were then mounted on a large plan, forming a composite map. This cut-and-paste approach creates some distortion at the edges of the plot for each unit surveyed, but in most cases this effect is minimal. A considerable number of magnetic anomalies are plainly visible in Figure 6. Those that are the result of modern construction (asphalt road, power lines, churchyard) are designated (solid lines for the road and churchyard, dotted line for elecric cables). The large area of low readings (blank or only lightly dotted) in the north-central part of the image (labelled B) marks the area where the asphalt road passes just to the south of the church enclosure (labelled A). In addition, a tall metal bell tower (labelled C) severely distorted the readings in this area. The most uniform readings come from a stretch of 70 m along the southwest and west-central part of the site. This section may provide the best example 134 of background readings within the Fortress and provides a baseline against which to assess the magnitude of anomalies in the east-central and southeast sectors. The isolated 20 m x 20 m unit in the far north-central part of the image reflects readings in the churchyard. The amount of local disturbance in the churchyard produced unstable readings so that it is virtually impossible to interpret the anomalies depicted. In general, the interior of the Fortress presents a very complex magnetic picture because of the amount of cultural activity, past and present. There are, however, a number of anomalies of clear archaeological significance. There are at least five anomalies that indicate the presence of large features. These anomalies are indicated by Arabic numerals in Figure 6. The various components of these anomalies are interpreted as walls on the basis of the drop in magnetic field strength due to contrast with the surrounding soil matrix, the general orientation along the cardinal points, rectilinear shape, and alignment with extant wall fragments. As mentioned in Chapter I, the image of the anomaly does not exactly correspond with the actual buried feature because the signal is displaced slightly to the south due to the declination from the magnetic pole. This displacement is an aspect of all the magnetic anomalies shown in Figures 5 and 6, so in visualizing the remains in the ground, features should be shifted somewhat to the north (approximately 1 m). The first of these (Anomaly 1) is composed of a series of smaller linear anomalies clustered together in the southeast corner of the site, in an area with visible walls of large ashlar blocks (see Figure 7). One segment of extant wall is 4 m long east-west, with a shorter section 135 perpendicular to it to the south. Another wall fragment trending roughly north-south lies several meters to the northeast; this segment is ca. 5 m long and is partially embedded in a small scarp that forms the eastern border of a shallow depression in this section of the Fortress. There is no visible connection between the T-shaped wall and the other segment and only the former is discussed here. The magnetic data indicate the east-west portion (Wall A) of the T-shaped wall extends some 20 m to the west, with a parallel wall 18 m to the south of approximately the same length. Other linear features between these two long anomalies suggest cross walls to divide the structure into rooms. The dimensions of the whole anomaly indicate a monumental structure. In order to see the dimensions of Anomaly 1 more clearly, it is isolated and shown at a larger scale in Figure 8. At the expanded scale for this 20 x 20 m section, the low readings that correspond with significant features are plainly evident. The linear features interpreted as walls do not exhibit consistently straight edges. One reason for this is probably that the image reflects structural collapse with blocks scattered unevenly along the sides of the walls. Another reason may be some deflection of the signal by the significant amount of surface rubble. Modern plowing, among other activities, probably has dislodged a number of stones and broken the line of walls in the Fortress. In any case, one can not expect the magnetic image to be an impeccable representation of subsurface conditions since there are many sources affecting the magnetic signal. In addition, the readings from adjacent stations overlap one another somewhat and the plotting program takes the average between them in drawing contours; this procedure makes 136 the edges of the anomalies less precise than the outline of the target. The significant thing is that despite the amount of debris in the area and disturbance of the remains, a pattern of linear features forming right angles can be discerned in Figure 8. The magnetic data correlate well with the visible evidence of a structure. Wall A appears as an area of low readings in the northeast part of Figure 8; its adjoining crosswall (Wall B) to the south appears as a broad band of medium to low readings. A band of low readings that extends from Wall A to the western edge of the image represents a long wall that defines the northern limit of a huge structure. The magnetic readings also suggest this large building was subdivided into a series of smaller rooms. A linear anomaly parallel to Wall B runs north-south through the center of Anomaly 1 and is intersected by two east-west trending anomalies. A third east-west anomaly runs along the southern border of the image, but is broken by patches of higher readings; this anomaly was initially defined above as the southern wall of the large building. The combined evidence of visible walls and magnetic data indicate the presence of at least three and probably four east-west walls and two or three north-south crosswalls; the far west-central part of the image presents what may be the third north-south wall, but it is broken in two places and does not run the entire width of the structure between the far north and far south wall anomalies. This configuration reveals six small compartments (identified by Roman numerals). Because of the overlap of readings due to displacement of stones, the rooms do not conform to neat rectangles or squares. This situation makes it difficult to determine if the rooms are all of equal dimensions. Clearly, though, Room I is longer and narrower than the others. In addition, the building extends to the east of Wall B (see Figure 7), even though the magnetic data reveal no other walls in the eastern quarter of Figure 8. Perhaps there is a large room in this area whose eastern wall is beyond the eastern extent of the surveyed area. Alternatively, the eastern wall may have been robbed out during one of the several rebuilding episodes that we know occurred at the Fortress (see Chapter II), most noteably during the reigns of Justinian in the sixth century and Manuel II in the fifteenth century. The size of Anomaly 1 and the hypothesized arrangement of compartments within it suggest the structure is the remains of a barracks. In their studies of military camps, Webster (1985) and Pringle (1981) both present archaeological evidence that the living quarters of common soldiers in Roman and Byzantine fortresses, respectively, were large structures subdivided into a variety of small compartments. The arrangement of such barracks is discussed in the next chapter. The mention of barracks here simply provides an initial Interpretation and label for Anomaly 1. Anomaly 2 lies in the east-central part of the site. This, too, is a linear feature, with a northeast-southwest strike, and its boundaries, though sharply defined, do not conform to a concise geometric outline. The anomaly is 21 m long northeast-southwest and 10 m wide northwest-southeast. The magnitude of the readings and the elongated cigar shape of this large dipole anomaly indicate either a large deposit of Iron or a substantial thermoremanent feature. Since the feature lacks the characteristic hexagonal shape of many iron anomalies, it is tentatively 138 identified as thermoremanent in origin, probably a forge or a kiln. The independent evidence for either a forge or kiln is sparse. There are some ceramic wasters and slag debris, but this material is not concentrated near Anomaly 2 (see Figure 41). Circumstantial evidence can be used to argue that the anomaly is more likely to be a forge. In military terms, a forge would have been more necessary, to provide crucial armaments and metal tools. Pottery could have been readily provided by local artisans, and though important, the ceramics were not as vital to the functioning of the Fortress as the metal implements would have been. In addition, the extremely high amplitude of the dipole shift (from +1012 nT to -708 nT) suggests the presence of metal, although none was found on the surface in this area. The odd shape of the anomaly is problematic. The outline may reflect the presence of metal spill or a casting floor, rather than the furnace proper; this might account for the odd elongated form of the anomaly. Just to the east of the probable forge is a large square dipole anomaly (Anomaly 3) measuring 6 m on a side. Von Frese and Noble (1984:42) assert that monopole anomalies exhibiting radially symmetric amplitudes are often diagnostic of wells or deep pits. The filling in of the empty space with topsoil creates a significant contrast in magnetic susceptibility. In this case, the anomaly may have a direct functional association to the previous one. This feature may be a cistern to store water for the adjacent forge and the manufacturing activity associated with it. If a cistern had been filled with metal debris at some point, this action would account for the dipole nature of the anomaly. Webster (1985:202) notes that in one 139 Roman fort In Britain a large store of iron artifacts was placed in a pit for later reuse when the camp was dismantled. An alternative explanation is that this anomaly is simply an extension of the one to the west, but this problem Is difficult to resolve. The fourth major anomaly (4) is a large rectangular feature located near Tower 4, to the northeast of the previous two anomalies. This large dipole anomaly measures 4 m north-south and 6 m east -west, narrowing somewhat to the west. The magnitude of the dipole contrast indicates a significant thermoremanent anomaly, although not as large or Intense as Anomaly 2. The more regular shape and the intensity of this anomaly may suggest it results from a metallic source, oriented on an east-west axis. The precise nature of this source cannot be determined, but would bear investigation should excavation occur within the Fortress in the future. The most numerous anomalies that can be discerned are small but Intense dipoles scattered throughout the interior of the Fortress. Such anomalies with large amplitudes and distinct geometries tend to characterize thermoremanent sources such as baked clay or Iron objects (von Frese 1984:8). The most likely interpretation of these small anomalies is either a concentration of ceramics or an iron artifact (von Frese, personal communication 1987). Examination of Figure 5 reveals that the distribution of these anomalies is not random. There are few in the southeast and east-central part of the site where the major structural anomalies are found. There are five such anomalies along the western edge of the site south of the paved road, four in the field immediately south of the church enclosure, and another four or five in the northeast sector. 140 These anomalies represent iron artifacts or clusters of ceramics, perhaps rooftiles, that were dumped by Fortress residents or that accumulated from the collapse of tiled roofs. If these objects are pre-modern iron tools, the distribution suggests use or discard throughout the site. Retrieval of these objects during future work would also be a useful exercise in pinpointing the sources of small anomalies. In the west-central part of the Fortress south of the road there is a large wall lying north/northwest-south/southeast. This wall has a facing of large ashlar blocks and a cemented rubble interior, identical in form to the circuit w alls of the Fortress. Obviously, this fragment was part of a large well-built structure and we anticipated encountering geophysical anomalies in this area that would trace out more of this structure. Anomaly 5 is a low-intensity linear dipole ca 3 m long running north-south just north of the large wall. A narrow band of higher readings, indicating a gap of some sort, separates Anomaly 5 from the wall proper; the hiatus may reflect a door or a robbed section of wall. There are no anomalies that clearly indicate crosswalls, even though on the south end of the extant wall a corner and part of a return are visible. Several meters to the north of Anomaly 5 there is an area of low readings, but these are not tightly defined and may be due to the proximity of electrical power lines that disrupted the magnetic signal. Anomaly 5 lies just beyond the area probably affected by the power lines (see Chapter II on Methods). Even though part of the anomaly to the north of Anomaly 5 may be due to walls, a conservative approach is warranted and thus the amorphous area of low readings is dismissed as a cultural feature. In order to enhance the image obtained from the data, the 1985 readings were plotted as a contour map using the programs devised by Ralph von Frese and his colleagues at Purdue University and Ohio State University (see Figure 9). Removal of diurnal fluctuation is accomplished by a cubic spline function that corrects field data by following the change in base station readings rather than just averaging the latter. This provides a truer approximation of actual field strength than the linear method. The corrected readings are then plotted as contour lines. The image is more precise than that of the dot-density map because outlines of anomalies can be approximated more accurately. Details are clearer using this format. Figure 9 represents an area of 4,700 m2 in the east-central and southeastern part of the Fortress (northwest corner at 40 N-60 W, southeast corner at 50 S-10 W). A 2-nT contour Interval was adopted after generating plots at various contour levels to determine the one that highlighted the anomalies best. With this map, the key anomalies discussed above can be viewed in greater detail and amplitudes (range in nT from highest to lowest readings associated with an anomaly) can be readily determined. Structural anomalies can be identified as elongated clusters of contour lines. Small dipoles appear as pentagons, with the apex of the anomaly Indicating the orientation of the target in the ground. Anomaly I in the southeast corner has an amplitude of 8 nT, the suspected forge (Anomaly 2) over 1700 nT, Anomaly 3 east of the kiln 80 nT, and some of the iron/ceramic features 12-20 nT. Only this area was so contoured because of the lack of major cultural anomalies in the surrounding sections that would benefit form this of enhancement. 142 Magnetometry proved to be a viable technique at the Isthmian Fortress. There are problems with Interpreting the many small anomalies because of the amount of debris on the surface and the uncertainty as to how much this material affected readings in some areas. Major subsurface features are easily detected, however, when these are not too deeply buried. The method is especially valuable in tracing out the extent of structures that are partially visible on the surface. Bath area. Magnetic prospecting in the orchard immediately to the east of the Roman Bath consisted of five transects, three 25 m long east-west and two 8 m long north-south, covering ca. 58 m2. The presence of several stretches of walls in this field suggest the existence of a large building, perhaps the gymnasium that probably existed at the site in antiquity. The magnetic survey was designed to determine if the individual wall sections are actually part of the same structure by tracing connecting remnants in the subsurface. Practical problems limited this effort. Close spacing of trees in the citrus orchard made passage between the rows quite difficult. In addition, the presence of a wire fence and metal in the sprinkler irrigation system distorted the readings. Figure 10 presents the image derived from these values. Nothing significant can be viewed. Hexamilion. As mentioned above, the eastern end of the Hexamilion disappears under a huge levelled area of canal dump. In an effort to trace out the remaining course of the wall on its way to the sea, two 10 m x 15 m units were surveyed in this area. One is 35 m from the end of the last visible portion of the Hexamilion and atop an area where a small section of the wall can be seen in the fill material ca. 3 m below the present ground 143 surface. Figure 1 la presents the image obtained from these readings. No distinct linear anomaly appears so we assume the target Is too deep to be detected. The second area examined is ca. 270 m east of the last visible part of the Hexamilion, at a point where the canal fill ends in the middle of a deep ravine. Since the Hexamilion does not reappear on the other side of the canal dump, Gregory (In Press) presumes It made a sharp turn at this point and headed directly for the coast. Magnetometry was used to test this hypothesis. The resulting image (Figure 1 lb) provides no clear Indication of a linear anomaly that can be associated with the Hexamilion. The fill may be too thick or filled with large rocks to permit detection of the wall. Alternatively, the Hexamilion may have turned toward the sea at a point farther west. The lack of success in locating the position of the Hexamilion in this area points out some of the limitations of magnetometry for archaeological work. Electrical resistivity and ground penetrating radar may provide better results for these two areas, suggesting the need for an Integrated scheme of geophysical exploration. Electrical Resistivity. Investigation by electircal resistivity was confined to the Fortress and was conducted during part of the 1985 field season. Equipment failure limited the area examined to 5,632 m2 (20.8% of the Fortress; see Figure 12) in that year, and subsequent work was not feasible. Nonetheless, the sections surveyed form an important sample from the site, with only the north-central and northeast areas receiving no coverage. The data have been plotted as a contour map (Figure 13) using the PLTCON program and the Versatec Printer. 144 The use of the Wenner array with an a-spacing of 2 m allowed the signal to penetrate ca. 3 m into the ground. Excavation has indicated depth to bedrock is ca. 1.5 -2 m in the western part of the Fortress, sloping down to as much as 4.5 m in the far eastern section due to filling and levelling operations by the Byzantines. Therefore, the readings do not reflect the full depth of cultural materials in the east-central part of the Fortress. Enlarging the a-spacing would provide greater depth penetration but at the expense of signal clarity. A consistent a-spacing was maintained to provide comparable results throughout the survey area. Major targets for this survey were walls and other large structural elements. Such features inhibit the flow of electrical current through the ground and are thus indicated by high resistivity values. When using the Wenner array, resistivity is computed by the following formula: r=2p(V/l)a (Equation 1) where r is the apparent resistivity, V/l is the reading taken from the meter dial, and a is the spacing of the probes. For purposes of interpretation, use of this formula usually assumes a layered earth model, with horizontal distinctions affecting passage of current from one level to the next. Because of the shallow depth of the soils and the lack of stable boundaries between soil horizons, no stratigraphic assumptions could be made in this case. The current is assumed to pass through a homogeneous natural layer. Most disturbances in current flow can thus be attributed to projecting areas of bedrock or to cultural features. Figure 13 is a contour map of apparent resistivity values plotted at a contour Interval of 50 ohm-m. The large blank area in the upper right was 145 not surveyed because of equipment failure. The three straight lines that neatly outline this section on the west and south result from an edge effect and do not reflect real anomalies. The most prominent anomalies are a series of north-south trending linear features concentrated in the south-central and northwest sections of the image. These anomalies range in magnitude from 150 to 500 ohm-m, intermediate in strength, and are from 8 to 20 m in length. Although it is tempting to view these anomalies as a series of walls, there is an alternative explanation. Readings were taken in north-south transects in a plowed olive orchard with considerable stone rubble on the ground surface. The rocks on the surface may have constrained the flow of current, creating anomalies that reflect surface or near-surface conditions more than subterranean in situ cultural remains (von Frese, personal communication 1987). This explanation does not account for the lack of such anomalies in the southwest sector where the quantity of stone rubble is approximately the same as elsewhere. In addition, the amount of rocks in the northwest section is no greater than in other areas, yet it has most of these anomalies. The most prudent course in analyzing these data is to consider only those anomalies with the highest values as candidates for cultural features. In their examination of a Medieval fortress at Mytilene, Papamarinopoulos et al. (1985) considered values of 200-400 ohm-m as moderate to high. Adopting 250 ohm-m as a cutoff point eliminates all of the anomalies except for two in the central part of the image and one along the northwest edge. These anomalies are tentatively identified as walls. The latter anomaly lies just to the northwest of the thick rubble-filled 146 wall described in the magnetometry section and coincides generally with magnetic Anomaly 5. The two anomalies in the center of the image cannot be closely correlated to magnetic anomalies because the magnetic readings here were affected by metallic paint on the stand holding the reading head. These two electrical anomalies are located in an area with an extremely heavy concentration of stone rubble that may represent structural collapse; the anomalies may pinpoint a subsurface alignment of the original wall from which this rubble derived. Another possibility is that the anomalies in the center of the image are the result of electrical current being channeled into linear shapes by the abundance of surface debris, but even if this is the case, the amount and direction of the rubble can be used to argue for the presence of a substantial wall. Two other anomalies of interest are located in the southeast section of the map. Both follow a sinuous east-west course, one between 30S and 345, and the other between 18S and 24S. The highest value for each is 350 ohm-m, and they exhibit the double-peaking characteristic of anomalies detected using the Wenner array. The southernmost of these two includes a section of visible foundations (Walls A and B in Figure 7); the magnetic anomaly associated with this wall indicates the structure extended out another 15 to 20 m to the west. The electrical anomaly is 25 m to 30 m long (including the visible part of the wall) and provides some corroborating evidence for the magnetic data. The other anomaly parallels the first 10 m to the north, but there is no evidence of a cross wall connecting them. At the western end, however, each of these long anomalies abuts on one of the north-south electrical features, creating 147 right angles that lead away from each other, like the corners of buildings that face each other across an intervening space. If these anomalies do indeed represent different structures, there would be two large buildings in close proximity to one another, perhaps forming a complex, e.g., two barracks, or a barracks and mess hall. By following the outlines of the U-shaped anomalies indicated in the southeast sector of Figure 13, the size of the suggested structures can be estimated. The east-west anomalies are 35-40 m long. Making allowances for collapsed walls and scattering of debris, a conservative estimate for the length of these walls is 30 m. The north-south trending anomalies that define the width of these structures are 22 m long for the southern structure and 18 m for the norther building, but neither is a complete width since no corner is indicated. Based on comparison with the magnetic data for the southern structure, a compromise figure of 20 m for the width of each structure seems reasonable. As outlined in Figure 13, the thickness of each leg of the two anomalies is 4-7 m, while thickness of Walls A and B (in the southern structure of Figure 13) reaches a maximum of 75 cm. This discrepancy reflects the effort to accomodate fluctuations in the electrical readings and to enclose all of the 350 ohm-m contour line within the brackets designating the limits of the anomalies. The thickness of the walls was probably under 1 m. Electrical Resistance. Surveying by electrical resistance covered a total of 1,120 m2 (4.13% of the interior) within the Fortress in the summer of 1985. This total encompassed 800 m2 in the southeast corner of the enclosure and 320 m2 in the churchyard at the northern end of the site (see Figure 14). The small amount of work performed with this instrument was the result of conditions.on the site. The portable frame allows for a rapid pace under ideal conditions. At Stymfalos, up to 3,000 m2 a day could be surveyed (Williams 1984:181). In the Fortress, however, the rocky conditions forced abandonment of the frame, and the potential probes had to be hammered into the ground in order to make adequate contact with the soil. In addition, the extremely dry conditions often necessitated the use of a squirt bottle to apply moisture around the probes in order to register a reading. These factors conspired to slow down the pace to about 200 m2 per day. Although limited in scope, this survey did provide a good body of data to compare with that from the other geophysical techniques. The same basic theoretical and practical parameters that apply to electrical resistivity hold with this method, except that there is no conversion of the reading. The desired targets were structures and other gross features. Readings were plotted as contours using the PLTCON program. The Bradphys meter detected a series of large anomalies in the southeastern part of the Fortress, as did the other two techniques. In Figure 15 a linear feature is clearly visible running east-west across the entire 20-m breadth of the survey area. This corresponds to the extant wall and its presumed subterranean extension detected by magnetics and resistivity. To the south of and perpendicular to this feature at least two anomalies Indicate possible cross walls. Two other similar north-south anomalies are evident to the north of the wall. All of these anomalies have amplitudes in a range from 310 to 410 ohms. The dark lines indicating a 149 strictly linear anomaly along the northwest edge of the survey unit reflect a section where no readings registered and is not a cultural feature. The anomalies detected by the two electrical meters in this sector correspond rather closely. The major exception is the one east-west anomaly along the 20S line noted by the resistivity gear. No such anomaly was recorded by the Bradphys meter. As a consequence, the resistivity feature may or may not be another wall. There is undoubtedly one large structure in this southwest corner, but it is not clear whether the walls to the north Indicated by large anomalies are part of the same building or not. The examination of the churchyard revealed no anomalies of significance (see Figure 16). The consistently low readings indicate a non-resistant medium free of large stones. The soil in this area is highly compacted, probably from recent activity within the compound. The area has been levelled by heavy machinery that left an island of raised soil around a tree near the interior face of the Hexamilion. This activity may have removed evidence of earlier buildings. Self-Potential. A total of six transects, each 10 m in length, constitutes the self-potential survey. Four of these were in the southeastern part of the site, the other two in the central area (see Figure 17). Since the method has only recently been applied to archaeological problems, this effort was conceived as a further test of its viability. For this reason, the transects ran across known targets (visible stone foundations) to evaluate how well the technique detects large features. As a result no new Information about sub-surface structures at the site was expected or obtained. The readings obtained in the self-potential survey have been plotted as profiles. Figures 18, 19, 20 and 21 present the profiles derived from data in the southeast part of the site. Examination of these profiles reveals considerable fluctuation in the readings but no discernible regular pattern that can be identified as a characteristic signature for the stone walls. This situation points out one of the key problems with the method. Although it is evident that the earth generates natural electrical currents, it is extremely difficult to discriminate amongst the various sources from which these signals emanate. The lack of recognizable patterns in the profiles indicates what a complex property the self-potential phenomenon is. There is no easy way to determine what impact cultural features have on the natural current. The profiles from the central area of the site exhibit the same lack of patterning (Figures 22 and 23). As a further test of the method in this area, Line 5 was surveyed three times to check on the replicability of results (Foradas, personal communication 1986). Obviously, if readings are not consistent in one area over time, this further complicates interpretation. The three sets of readings are compared against one another on scattergram plots. Figure 24 compares the first and third sets, which have a very low correlation of 0.34. The second and third sets (Figure 25) have a correlation factor of 0.417. These results suggest that the self-potential method is not reliably replicable, at least in this area of the site. Further tests of this sort should be conducted, however, before the technique is completely dismissed by archaeologists. In light of the availability of other reliable geophysical techniques of proven utility, the 151 self-potential method does not provide an appropriate option in terms of efficient use of field time or results.

SURFACE SURVEY General Considerations. The utility of surface collections in assisting the archaeologist to elicit chronological, functional, and spatial attributes of sites has been the topic of Intense debate in the literature. Redman (1987) contends surface survey is useful in delimiting site boundaries and occasionally for determining functional areas, but warns it is not always the most appropriate technique. Carr (1985) suggests the need for collaborative evidence because of factors not related to the original depositional sequence (e.g., plowing, bioturbatlon) that affect surface artifact distribution. There is substantial evidence, though, that suggests the surface Inventory is a good reflection of subterranean artifact and feature locations (Redman and Watson 1970). The relationship between surface and subsurface materials is a complex one. A diverse range of factors creates the artifact distribution on the surface noted by field workers. These factors break down into a number of categories. As a starting point in this discussion, Schiffer's (1972:161 -163) model is instructive. He suggests there are three ways by which material is deposited on a site: 1) primary refuse-material that remains where it was used, after the removal of garbage and anything that has the potential for reuse, 2) secondary refuse-trash that is gathered from where it is dropped and is then deposited in a designated garbage place, and 3) de facto refuse- all the material that remains where it was 152 dropped, usually when a site is to be abandoned. These factors are what Schiffer (1976:14-15) calls c-(for cultural) transforms. To this list can be added several other categories, such as items that are lost, and objects that are retrieved from a garbage area to be employed according to the original function or in some other manner. The latter material can then be redeposited in any of the ways already listed. Another important consideration is the successive use of certain artifacts or features for different purposes through time. One form of this transformation I have called the process of degradation of function (Kardulias and Murray 1983), when the artifact in question passes through functional phases. Initially, there is the purpose envisioned by the manufacturer. At a second level, perhaps after some damage prohibits use in the original manner, there may be a second utilitarian function. A non-utilitarian function may be next in line, followed ultimately by discard or abandonment. The various factors discussed so far have a human behavioral component, which determines how and when artifacts enter the archaeological record. Going beyond Schiffer's simple initial model, not only are use and discard important, but also significant are production and transport. Each activity should have characteristic residue, especially if manufacture is conducted on site. For example, elements of the entire production sequence should be evident, including raw materials, transforming agents (e.g., manufacturing tools, fuels, workshops, etc.), and intermediate and finished products. If no production facilities can be distinguished, importation of finished products is implied, with all the 153 attendant activities of physical transfer and exchange. The whole sequence of events discussed so far, Including production, importation, use, discard, reuse, loss, and abandonment, influences the character of the archaeological record, both its contents and the distribution of those objects. Although this is commonly thought of in horizontal terms, both spatially and temporally, there are diachronic and vertical displacement factors to consider. Once the archaeological record is deposited it can be disturbed by subsequent human activity at a much later date. This goes beyond the simple reuse mentioned above which was intended to reflect activity by individuals not far removed in time or space from the original users; artifacts can even be reused by the same people who discard them. What is meant here is disturbance of the archaeological remains by people at a substantially later time; they may or may not be members of the same community or culture. Such disturbance is often unintentional, as is the case with plowing, digging out an area to put in a structural foundation, or preparing a grave. In the case of large features, reuse even at a later date may be intentional and require disturbing the archaeological record, for example, by clearing away accumulated debris or gathering material to use in a different manner than originally intended, such as employing large ceramic fragments or millstones as wall chinking. A considerable amount of this sort of activity characterizes the Fortress at Isthmia. The ancient monuments of the Sanctuary served as sources of worked blocks for construction of the Medieval fortifications. This use of spolia is well documented at the Northeast Gate where column drums, voussoirs, and inscribed blocks were incorporated into the structure and 154 roadway (Gregory and Mills 1984). Also at the Northeast Gate, there Is evidence that squatters occupied the area in the sixth century during a hiatus in military use. These residents modified the gate complex by moving blocks to enclose rooms and provide living space, and even buried their dead in this area. Similar residential reuse occurred near the West Gate in the fourteenth century. In terms of other materials, various kinds of ceramics were uses as matrix for the mortared rubble interior of many walls. This phenomenon is evident all along the circuit walls and in the structure adjacent to magnetic Anomaly 5. In addition to these cultural factors, a range of natural forces (n-transforms) have an impact on the disposition of the archaeological record (Schiffer 1976:15-16). These factors affect both the preservation of the artifact or feature, its location, and its context. Included under this heading are things such as geomorphological processes (e.g., erosion, deposition, wave action), animal burrowing, root activity, structural collapse and a series of other forces. These affect the archaeological record incessantly and together with the cultural factors determine the appearance of that record. At Isthmia, erosion would have been significant in the eastern and northeastern sections of the Fortress where the ground slopes down dramatically to the east. The construction of the fortifications and the subsequent filling episode would have restricted erosional washoff along most of the eastern edge and stabilized that area. The land still sloped down towards the gate in the northeast sector and runoff contributed to the accumulation of soil and artifacts behind the walls in that area, eventually covering significant portions of the walls. 155 The degree to which the surface artifacts are representative of the subsurface assemblage Is an Important consideration. Ancillary to this concern is the means by which buried materials find their way to the surface. The preceding discussion highlighted the creation of the archaeological record and some post-depositional factors that influence it. Some of the latter factors (e.g., plowing) are instrumental in bringing artifacts to the surface. One question is if artifacts are brought to the surface in a differential manner. The researcher must assess whether the representation of a particular phase in the surface assemblage reflects the depth or the intensity of that phase in the archaeological sequence. If the degree of appearance is depth-related, then analysis of a surface collection tells one something about site stratigraphy (fewer the artifacts, deeper the deposit), and perhaps less about the degree of site usage in different periods. If representation depends on intensity perhaps one can say something meaningful about site usage through time. Which of these two conditions explains most of the variability in surface artifacts in the Fortress should be indicated by comparison of the amount of surface material from various periods, the horizontal distribution of that material, and the depth of the cultural fill. The first two indicators should be reflected in a surface survey, and the third in exposures from various excavations in and near the Fortress. These and other factors will be discussed in the appropriate section below. Chronological considerations.Despite the large number of artifacts (27,193) retrieved during the surface survey, only a small portion (1,377,5.06%) of this assemblage is considered diagnostic and, thus, useful 156 as chronological markers. The emphasis is on ceramics because of the abundance of this category. This situation is the result of a long-standing tradition of artifact analysis in Greece. Pottery is considered diagnostic on the basis of variation within a few key attribute categories, including vessel shape, fabric, glaze, slip, and surface decoration. The primary emphasis is on stylistic elements, but functional criteria also play a part. Consequently, sherds are considered diagnostic if the pieces exhibit traits (e.g., rim, base, handle) that indicate the shape of the pot, or something distinctive about its decoration that can be additive (glaze, slip, paint, applique), impressed (incision, ridging, mold-made) or both. Fabrics vary from place to place in Greece and also through time. These various characteristics have been tied to time periods on the basis of their appearance on pottery from excavated contexts. In the case of Bronze Age, Classical and Hellenistic pottery the sequence is well developed and readily recognized. Roman and Byzantine pottery is not nearly so well studied or understood. A variety of standard reference works exist, including pottery volumes from the major excavations, especially the Athenian Agora and Korinth. These series also provide comparative information for Roman and Byzantine pottery (Morgan 1942). In addition, Hayes (1972) provides a standard work for identifying Roman pottery and MacKay (1967) does the same for Byzantine material. Part of the problem in dealing with Roman and Byzantine pottery is that it is rarely of central concern at Classical sites and is consequently not clearly typed. Furthermore, there is overlap between the LR and EB historical periods, adding some confusion in terms of categorizing the material. 157 This is obviously a highly selective definition for the term diagnostic, excluding the vast majority of ceramics. The other categories of material are small and offer little hope of yielding chronological information in the current state of affairs in Greece, except for the coins. Since it is not my purpose to restructure pottery analysis, I have chosen to work within this narrow definition. The other ceramics (i.e., the bulk of the pottery and all of the rooftiles) also have some distinguishing characteristics, but have traditionally been treated as an undifferentiated mass and it is beyond the scope of this study to attempt a detailed examination of typology. There are certain key tra its used to distinguish pottery by period. Classical and Hellenistic pottery is identified by a high quality black glaze or slip, a fine buff fabric, and vessel types that include various drinking cups (kylix, kantharos, skyphos), storage jars (amphorae), and water containers (jugs, hydria) among other types. ER wares include a variety of bowls, plates, jugs and amphorae made of fine red clay and often slipped red. LR pottery has the same range of shapes as ER types. While much of the LR material is glazed, many pieces also exhibit distinctive surface decoration (combed, spirally-grooved, wheel-ridged). Slavic pottery is hand-made or formed on a slow wheel while virtually all pots in the other periods are made on a fast wheel. Slavic wares have a very coarse fabric and consist primarily of small to medium-sized open vessels. Byzantine fine wares appear in many shapes but are clearly distinguished from earlier periods by the use of vitreous lead glazes. These are the primary traits used in determining the period of diagnostic pottery. The LR period, and by inference the diagnostic pottery that represents it, is crucial to the issue of transition. There is a terminological problem in dealing with this period, though. From an historical standpoint LR often refers to the period from the late second to early seventh centuries. Confusion results from the fact that the Early Byzantine (EB) period, as defined by some scholars, coincides with the latter half of the LR phase. Pottery chronologies, though, usually list LR as second to seventh centuries A.D., a span that covers the period of transition that is the focus of this study. LR pottery assemblages are characterized by significant quantities of fine red-slip, combed, and spirally-grooved wares. EB ceramics are usually dated late sixth to mid ninth centuries A.D., and exhibit pottery with distinctive vitreous glazes. Since our sample lacked pottery from the eighth to tenth centuries (Gregory, personal communication 1987), EB at the Fortress is defined, for purposes of dating ceramics, as eleventh to twelfth centuries. The problem for this study is that the shift from Late Antiquity to the Medieval period is not neatly correlated with defined pottery chronologies. The vast majority of the LR pottery in the Fortress, however, dates from the latter part of that ceramic phase (Gregory, personal communication 1987). Therefore, its presence can be tied largely to the fifth and sixth centuries, the time when the Fortress became the preeminent locale of occupation in the Sanctuary area. The key period of transition of concern in the present study, in terms of the ceramic chronology identified above, can be viewed as the shift from the Early LR to the Late LR phase. 159 In dealing with a surface assemblage, one loses certain important contextual information that aids in determining dates for the material. Some objects are sufficiently diagnostic to be dated despite the lack of stratigraphic associations. A considerable portion of the assemblage remains undatable. When, as in this study, it is important to determine temporal affiliation to make statements about site usage through time, the problem is accentuated. Obviously, all the surface material, not just the diagnostics, has a temporal component, but we often lack the techniques to elicit this information. There may be means of inferring at least some chronological element for the material, though. For example, one can explore the relationship between the diagnostics and the remaining material. Specifically, one can ask how the percentages of the various diagnostics relate to the remaining artifacts. In the 1986 surface collection, 64.2% of all diagnostic pottery was Late Roman (LR) in date. Can one then assume that approximately 64% of all the artifacts date from this same period? Much of the analysis of the surface material that follows is predicated on this assumption. The fact that post-LR periods are represented by fewer diagnostics suggests that the surface material reflects lower Intensity use of the Fortress area after the seventh century. There is an upturn in occupation of the site in the LB period; the increase in diagnostic pottery in the LB phase may correspond with the rebuilding of the fortifications early in the fifteenth century and subsequent use on a variety of occasions thereafter. Another consideration is that the relationship between diagnostics and other surface materials may be consistent for some periods, but not for others. For example, since there are no known buildings associated with the Classical and Hellenistic material, it is possible that the bulk of the roof tiles and other architectural elements belong to the Early Roman (ER) and LR periods, even beyond the percentages indicated by the diagnostics. So, the LR share of the surface material may be significantly higher than the 64% indicated by known diagnostics. There were buildings in the Fortress area during the ER period, but this location was not the focus of occupation for Isthmia as a whole. It was in ER times that the Sanctuary was at its zenith (see Chapter II). When the fortifications were constructed in the latter half of the LR period, it is clear that most of the ancient Sanctuary was abandoned. Whereas the ER occupation was spread throughout the area of the Sanctuary, the later LR settlement was clearly centered in the Fortress. In addition, the more crowded conditions in military installations should be reflected in denser concentrations of associated artifacts. It may, therefore, be legitimate to claim that the majority of the roof tiles and architectural stone should be assigned to the period of the military occupation in the LR period. The EB component in the Fortress is not considered as important in this context because of the small number (N=31) of diagnostics from this period. There is a question whether the earlier periods (pre-ER) have a lower representation because occupation was less intense, or because the remains are more deeply buried and fewer artifacts find their way to the surface. A possible answer is found in that the soil cover is rather shallow over most of the site, except the eastern edge, so that there is ample opportunity for the earlier material to appear, especially since the 161 southern half (planted in olives) of the Fortress interior is plowed annually, and the northern half has been plowed in the recent past. Granted, some pre-LR material may have washed down the east slope and beyond the range of the survey area (defined by the defensive circuit) prior to the building of the fortifications. Construction of the Fortress walls in the early fifth century contained the material thereafter. So, even though the pre-LR material may be somewhat underrepresented, one can have considerable faith in the later assemblages. In addition, the lack of ancient Greek pottery was confirmed by the excavations of Stais (1903) and Jenkins and Megaw (1931-2) in the Fortress interior, implying that the surface assemblage is not biased to any great extent against the earliest phases. The other phase of major concern in this regard is the ER, the first period represented by a significant number of diagnostics and by structures in the area of the Fortress (Jenkins and Megaw 1931-2). ER pottery is the third most abundant, after LR and LB. Excavations in and around the Fortress indicate that although the ER presence was significant, it was not as pronounced as LR and LB occupation. Therefore, the surface collection seems to reflect accurately intensity of occupation as indicated in previous investigations. The transportation of ER pottery by erosion seems not to have been that significant, but some ER material may have been brought in with the fill. Thus, one can argue that diagnostics can be a guide to determining the date of other surface material. The working assumption for this study is that the LR component encompasses at least 64% of the entire surface collection. In presenting the distributions of rooftiles and architectural 162 stone below, it is assumed that two-thirds to three-fourths of the material was LR in date. The types of roof tiles collected lend credence to this assertion. There were few Lakonian and Corinthian tiles, both characteristic ancient Greek types. In addition, excavations in and around the Fortress by Monceaux (1884; 1885), Stais (1903), Jenkins and Megaw (1931-2), Broneer (1955; 1958; 1959), and Clement (1975) have yielded pottery and coins that are predominantly LR-EB in date. Interpretation of the surface collection is complicated by dumping episodes that occurred in the past. The key event was the filling in of the east-central area after construction of the Fortress walls (Jenkins and Megaw 1931-2). This unconsolidated fill, consisting of soil, rocks, and artifacts, is up to 3.5 m deep. Its place of origin is not known, but one may speculate that at least some of it came from the area inside the Fortress itself; any small prominence could have been leveled and the soil from it used to fill in the east slope behind the new circuit wall. The remainder of the fill may have derived from west of the Fortress toward the Sanctuary proper, but no borrow pits have been identified in that area that would clearly indicate such a source. The land to the north, east, and south slopes down from the rise on which the Fortress is located; bringing fill dirt from these areas would have necessitated transporting heavy loads uphill. One advantage of mining fill in these downslope areas would have been to ehhance the incline approaching the walls. Another possible source for fill material may have been the taphros along the north face of the Hexamilion and Fortress. One further possibility for a source of fill may have been the footers for the Fortress walls. If the fill derived from the foundation 163 footers or slopes outside the Fortress walls, it is less likely that much pre-ER material would be in that fill since various excavations in the vicinity of the walls have demonstrated an absence of such early material. The use of spolia in the fortifications is a related phenomenon that brought material into the Fortress from another archaeological context. Various architectural members and ceramics that are clearly pre-LR in date are found in the Fortress. The problem is determining how much of this material represents in situ use by people residing at the eastern edge of the Sanctuary zone prior to the fifth century and what percentage reflects dumping in the fifth century and later. Since there is no clear independent evidence for the existence of large ancient ceremonial structures in the Fortress area, with the exception of the arch, most of the blocks with distinctive characteristics (i.e., flutes, dentils) were probably brought in when the Sanctuary's religious buildings were dismantled. The pottery is more problematic because it is easily portable and may have been brought in at virtually any time, either by people who used it in the period to which the material dates, or by large scale dumping at a later time. Although most of the pottery is taken to reflect in situ use, the role of imported dump material cannot be ignored. The 1985 and 1986 surveys. Surface survey was conducted within the Fortress in 1985 and 1986, sampling 1.4% and 2.7%, respectively, of the available area within the enclosure (see Figure 26). The data from these two investigations are summarized in Tables 1 and 2 and compared in Table 3. Plotting of total artifact densities for each season was done with the SURF 2 program. The distributions of diagnostic pottery and architectural 164 stone were plotted on a series of maps of the Fortress. These Figures and Tables form the basis for discussing the results of the surface investigations. Tables 1 and 2 provide a breakdown, by transect and category, of all the artifacts collected in the surface surveys. The variety of cultural material is immediately evident. Ceramic artifacts comprised the largest general category in each season, followed by architectural stone, glass, and other materials in lesser amounts. Table 3 highlights the differences in the assemblages from each season. The discrepancy in total artifact counts is due in part to the difference in collection strategy and, thus, total number of sample units (391 vs. 725). More revealing are other comparisons. The high count of any one unit was 67 in 1985 and 130 in 1986, while the respective mean artifact density per sample unit was 14.69 artifacts/m2 and 37.51 artifacts/m2, indicating that crew members retrieved two and one-half times more artifacts per unit in 1986. Another significant difference is in the rooftile count, which formed 42.29% of all artifacts in 1985 and 70.33% in 1986. These discrepancies underscore an important methodological issue. Even though the number of sampling units varied from one season to the next, one would assume that the nature of the surface assemblage was basically the same and that, consequently, consistent results should be obtained in terms of density and percentages. Surface conditions were essentially identical in both seasons. The human factor is a major part of the difference. In 1985 all but two of the crew had no field experience, while in 1986 all crew members had at least some archaeological 165 background. This created a problem in 1985 with recognizing material and collecting small fragments. Another factor that contributed to higher counts in 1986 was the degree of attention given to units overgrown with weeds and thistles. These squares were cleared of vegetation with trowels to facilitate artifact collection, something that was not done in the previous year. The disparity in rooftile counts can be attributed to differences in classification. In 1985 there was a tendency to classify many non-descript ceramic fragments as coarse pottery, perhaps inflating this category, rather than as pieces of rooftile. In this case the difference is perhaps due to both the ability to recognize artifact categories and to changes in criteria. The discrepancy in the amounts of diagnostic pottery is the product of a conscious effort to record all such pieces in 1986, while the previous year only certain pieces were listed. The relative amounts of architectural stone are fairly equal for both seasons. The size and nature of the material probably made it easier to see and classify. The lack of tesserae in 1985 totals may be a correct count or the result of misclassifying these items as marble. The totals from the two surface collections do exhibit similarities at a gross scale. Figure 27 is a net map of total artifact distribution for 1985, and Figure 28 models the 1986 totals. Although the peaks are less pronounced for the 1985 material, the general pattern is similar for both. This pattern is also evident when the totals are plotted as contours (Figures 29 and 30). It is in the specific breakdown of these totals that dissim ilarities appear. The problems with the comparability of the two collections alert one to factors that can significantly affect the results of field work. A number of these factors are potentially under the archaeologist’s control. Among those elements the researcher can regulate are the experience level of the field crew, the amount of time spent in investigating various areas, and consistency in defining categories. These factors are aspects of research design, which was not entirely consistent in regards to the surface collections in the two field seasons. Part of the discrepancy is attributable to practical considerations, such as the necessity to use inexperienced personnel in 1985. The following year, the survey technique was revamped in order to answer specific questions about the site. The 1985 survey demonstrated certain shortcomings. There was the need, for example, for more precise chronological breakdown of diagnostic pottery to answer our queries concerning transition. Because of the more intensive nature of the 1986 collection, with its tighter controls and larger body of data, it is the subject of further detailed analysis. Analysis of the 1986 surface survey.The data from the 1986 surface collection are examined in an attempt to answer three types of questions. 1) Chronological-this part of the analysis involves scrutiny of the diagnostic material, i.e., certain types of pottery and the few coins. 2) Functional-to discern activity loci on the basis of specialized or limited-use artifacts. 3) Structural-examining the patterning of certain classes of artifacts to determine if the presence of structures is indicated; the geophysical data provide a comparative framework for locating structures. To deal with the chronological issue, all the diagnostic pottery has been plotted on maps of the Fortress by period (Figures 31-39). Because of their small number, all of the coins appear on one map (Figure 40). In most cases, the relatively small number of artifacts makes visual inspection an adequate means of determining the nature of the spatial patterning. Clustered and dispersed patterns are described in general terms below. For the present study, a cluster constitutes a minimum of two 1-m2 units, each containing at least one specimen of the the type being discussed, that are no more that 10 m apart. A string or grouping of such units comprise a larger cluster when the distance between any nearest neighbors is 10 m or less. A separation of 10 m is used because plowing tends to distribute adjacent artifacts by about that distance (Roper 1976). A rtifacts isolated from others by more than 10 m are considered discrete units reflecting separate activity loci. The earliest datable pottery that appears within the Fortress is one Archaic body sherd. There are two possible prehistoric pieces, but these may also be Classical. There are a few pieces of flaked stone, including a prismatic blade core that may be Bronze Age in date, and some fragments of ground stone, but the small number precludes any clearcut temporal assignment. In addition, it is now clear that both chipped and ground stone tools were manufactured and used in all historical periods, and are not exclusively a prehistoric phenomenon as previously thought (Runnels 1981; 1982). The lack of definite prehistoric artifacts in the Fortress suggests this part of the site was occupied only later in the sequence. Elsewhere in the Sanctuary, Neolithic, Bronze Age, and Geometric materials 168 have been found in substantial quantities (Smith 1955; Broneer 1959). The Classical period is the first with a significant number (N=23) of diagnostic sherds (Figure 31). In addition to the distinctly Classical pottery, there are 18 sherds designated Classical-to-Hellenistic because of the difficulty in isolating the specific period to which these belong; the distribution of these sherds is exhibited in Figure 32 along with the distinctly Hellenistic pieces. In each case the distributional pattern consists of two to three small clusters and scattered outliers. A key aspect of this distribution is the small number of sherds (N=2, 8.69% for Classical and N=4, 13.33% for Hellenistic and Classical-Hellenistic)in the eastern half of the Fortress south of 45N and east of 50W. This is the area of the deep fill brought in to level the ground inside the east curtain wall. The lack of early material in the area of this fill suggests that the soil was not brought in from the Sanctuary proper. The areas from which the fill was borrowed evidently contained later material at worst. This situation suggests that the surface artifacts may accurately reflect the chronology of subsurface materials, permitting greater confidence in stating that the surface collection reflects in situ activity. The presence of fine Classical black glaze pottery in this area hints at expanded area of usage at the site while the Sanctuary was in operation, but the limited sample permits only speculation as to the nature of that activity. Since excavation revealed no Hellenic structures (Jenkins and Megaw 1931-2), this activity may have been ephemeral in nature or involved no buildings. The distribution of Hellenistic pottery (Figure 32) suggests a decline in even this limited use of the Fortress area. Perhaps the Classical and Hellenistic pottery reflects 169 casual refuse left by inhabitants of the Sanctuary area or travelers on the roads leading to Schoenos and across the Isthmus. The amount of ER material may reflect a sudden increase in site usage or some dumping activity. From rather sporadic distribution earlier, the ER picture seems much fuller (Figure 33). There are clusters of artifacts evident, and areas of low density, in particular the northeast section of the Fortress. The main cluster is located in the center of the Fortress, and accounts for 75 pieces, 46.59% of the total, in an area that constitutes 12.55% of the Fortress interior. This is the first period for which material appears near Tower 5. Jenkins and Megaw (1931-2) found several ER structures on this eastern slope, inside the perimeter defined by the later fortifications, demonstrating a correlation between surface and subsurface materials. Some of this pottery may also be present as the result of levelling the area with fill dirt once the Fortress was constructed in the early fifth century A.D. The amount of ER material in other areas of the Fortress where there was no need for levelling reflects significant expansion in occupation of the site as a whole. Curiously, the northeast zone of the Fortress has only one ER sherd (0.62%), even though the large arch was built in this period. Bedrock is exposed in this area and slopes down to the northeast. Perhaps erosion has washed material down toward the gate. An alternative explanation is that this sector was not occupied in the ER phase. Figure 34 presents the Late Roman (LR) pottery distribution. This period has the greatest number of pieces by far (see Table 2). As mentioned above, the LR period dates from the third to the seventh 170 centuries. Since historical records and excavation results (Clement 1975; also, see Chapter II for a detailed discussion of the date for the construction of the Fortress) indicate the fortifications were erected early in the fifth century, the LR pottery is taken as indicative of the period of military occupation at this turning point in the history of the site. In Figure 34 one can readily see the more extensive nature of the distribution, with both the northwest and northeast sectors containing significant amounts of material (N=95 or 10.75% and N=68 or 7.69%, respectively, of the total of 884 LR sherds). There are few areas with no LR pottery. Figure 35 presents a contour plot of the LR pottery to highlight the concentrations more than is possible in Figure 34. The presence of LR material in all areas surveyed within the Fortress is precisely what one would expect if this period reflects the time when the fortifications were constructed and initially garrisoned. It would have been at such a time that the entire enclosure would have been utilized in some fashion. Pringle's (1981) survey of North African Byzantine fortresses demonstrates that the compounds had little wasted space. The large number of men the Fortress could hold (see Chapter V for estimates) would have contributed to the size, diversity, and ubiquity of the LR artifact inventory. The range of types (amphorae, jugs, pitchers, plates, various bowls) suggests a variety of activities, from importation and storage, to on-site consumption. The ubiquity may reflect both use of all parts of the Fortress and, to a lesser degree, movement of artifacts by residents and by subsequent activity such as plowing. Currently, the southern half of the Fortress is planted in olives and is plowed annually. Some studies, however, suggest that horizontal 171 artifact displacement by agricultural activities is not great (Roper 1976; Lewarch and O'Brien 1981). The correlation of extant walls and key geophysical anomalies with the LR pottery is depicted in Figure 36. With few exceptions the buildings and anomalies do not coincide with the most intense concentrations of material. There are several possible explanations for this situation. Those sample units on walls obviously had low artifact counts. Some areas near walls or anomalies, that may be the interiors of structures, also exhibit low pottery densities. This may be due to use of ceramic implements or disposal of broken vessels outside the structures, with the latter perhaps more likely. A similar relationship between sherd densities and geophysical anomalies has been noted in Boiotia (Bintliff and Snodgrass 1985:156). The lack of a shadow effect, in which ceramics would outline the structure if the pottery was discarded uniformly around the building, may suggest that the material was disposed of in some systematic fashion. The surface distribution indicates either that there was no single dump since no area is devoid of debris or that several of the areas of high artifact concentration represent discard locations. Alternatively, specific locations may have developed into trash deposits. Several towers became dump sites (Broneer 1959:321). This form of disposal may have coexisted with extramural dumping, but excavations along the exterior of the circuit walls did not locate such deposits (Broneer 1959). One exception to the tendency for LR pottery not to be associated directly with walls and anomalies is in the southeast corner of the Fortress, in and around magnetic Anomaly 1. This large structure has been interpreted as a 172 barracks. The presence of significant amounts of pottery in the interior of this structure may indicate several things. Storage on the ground level of a two-story structure, as in North African Byzantine fortresses (Pringle 1981:86), is one possibility. Fragments of bowls and amphorae in the assemblage support this view. Dumping of broken vessels is another possibility, but this seems less likely since Tower 7 not far to the south served this function. In addition, it would not make sense to take up valuable storage space with rubbish; the broken vessels may represent dumping activity during a hiatus in military occupation in the LR period when the structure became a trash dump. The drop in frequency, density, and ubiquity of succeeding assemblages magnifies the importance of the LR pottery. Figure 37 presents the distribution of Slavic (sixth to seventh centuries A.D.) pottery and Figure 38 that of EB ceramics. The former overlaps in time with the LR material. Since no destruction levels appeared in excavating the gates and towers, the Slavic material does not represent the intrusion of a foreign group into the Fortress. In fact, Gregory (In Press) suggests the Fortress withstood the invasions of the late sixth century. This pottery may simply reflect the adoption of the simpler vessel forms by Greek occupants of the Fortress. The small number of sherds (11 of 13 sherds, 84.62%) widely dispersed, near the perimeter (within 25 m of circuit walls) may reflect individuals living in houses built against the Fortress walls. Slavic pottery was found in such a domestic context at the Northeast Gate (Gregory, In Press). The EB (eleventh and twelfth centuries A.D.) material (Figure 38) represents a distinct break with the LR both chronologically and in the 173 character of the distribution. The EB assemblage is much smaller than the LR, indicating a drop in site usage during this period. This is not an abandonment, since the material is present and widely scattered. The majority (21 pieces, 67.7%) of the sherds are within 20 m of the Fortress walls and may again reflect habitation in structures built up against the interior of the fortifications. This distribution is further highlighted by the fact that only 126 (46%) of the total of 271 10-m2 units inside the Fortress are within 20 m of the circuit walls. Therefore, 67% of the EB sherds are found in an area that comprises only 46% of the total enclosure, emphasizing the distribution of the EB material along the periphery of the Fortress interior. Since the blocking walls were probably already in place at both gates, restricting access to the Fortress except by ladders, the EB residents probably were few in number. The small frequency, low density, and high level of dispersal of the pottery suggests either a small, widely distributed population at one time or a series of small groups staying in different areas over time. The Late Byzantine (LB-thirteenth to fifteenth centuries) distribution (Figure 39) exhibits characteristics similar to the LR situation. All areas of the site have material, Including the northwest and northeast sectors. Because there is less material than in the LR period, however, distinct clusters are more evident, especially in the southwest and east central sectors (circled in Figure 39). The association with buildings and anomalies is again not very strong. It seems that from LR times on, any instance of high frequency, density, and ubiquity can be associated with use of the Fortress as a full-scale military installation. In LR times this was tied to the construction of the fortifications as defense against barbarian attacks. In the LB period, the key event probably was the extensive repair undertaken by Manuel II in 1415, probably followed by the stationing of troops in the Fortress. The discrepancies in the assemblages of the two periods can be explained by the presence of a larger force over a longer period of time in the LR phase. The Greeks of the LB period were forced to abandon the fortifications on several occasions over a period of several decades (Gregory, In Press). In addition, the Fortress seems to have been garrisoned intermittently in this period. The evidence from the LR period suggests longer continuous occupation because of the greater amount of diagnostic material and the time span of at least two centuries that it represents. Furthermore, it seems the Fortress was never overrun in the LR phase. Had the LB military occupants been able to remain in the Fortress for sustained periods, the distribution of artifacts might well mirror the LR dispersal more closely. The discrepancies probably reflect differences in length and intensity (i.e., a larger force) of military residence. A total of seven coins was found during the 1986 surface survey. Of these, three were retrieved from sample units (see Figure 40); the other four were found in the southern half of the Fortress during other activities and do not have an exact provenience. These coins are identified by emperor’s reign or general period when they were struck (provenienced coins are 1-3): 1. First to third century A.D., struck by a local mint, perhaps Korinth. 2. Sons of Constantine, A.D. 337-361. 175 3. Illegible, general LR date. 4. Theodosios I, A.D. 379-395. 5. Manuel I, A.D. 1143-1180. 6. Constantios 11, A.D. 337-361. 7. Uncertain emperor, third century A.D. Although none of these dates to the fifth century when the Fortress was built and first occupied, coins of the fourth century such as 2, 4, and 6 regularly circulated in the fifth century. In addition, fifth century coins are smaller than other earlier and later issues and have proved difficult to locate in surface survey (Gregory, personal communication 1987). Although few in number, the coins tend to fall into the general periods of greatest activity for the Fortress. The coins also attest to the presence of a monetary economy. The hard currency soldiers earned would have found its way into and stimulated the local economy, as happened elsewhere in the empire (Russell 1986:139). The ability to discriminate certain functional categories within the surface assemblage presents the possibility of distinguishing certain specialized activities. In addition, these artifacts also enhance understanding of the diversity of material present, thus possibly providing insights into the population structure of the occupants and their relationship to other residents of the area. The ceramic materials in question include fragments of beehives, water pipes, kiln wasters, kiln supports, slag, and lamps. Glass forms another category (see Figure 41). These materials suggest a considerable range of activities. In terms of production, the beehive fragments indicate an attempt to provide one 176 special item in the diet, and could perhaps reflect an effort to attain some degree of self-sufficiency. The dating of these pieces is problematical. It does not seem likely, though, that the original Byzantine garrison would have had apiaries. The noise, dust, and lack of vegetation within the Fortress would not have been conducive to honey production. The ceramic beehives may belong to the period before construction of the fortifications, or to a time when the Fortress was not used as a military installation. The kiln waster, support, and slag indicate pottery production, but the locations of these objects do not correlate with the suspected furnace revealed by magnetometry. As suggested above, perhaps the furnace was for metal work, vital to a military camp. The one piece of bronze is a dripping or spill from the manufacturing process. The discovery of substantial foundry debris in dumps near the Temple of Poseidon suggest that at least some of the metal objects dating to the Hellenistic period and earlier found at the Sanctuary may have been cast and finished at the site (Rostoker and Gebhard 1980:351, 361). The metal debris in the Fortress may thus be dump material brought in from elsewhere on the site. It is difficult to generalize from the scanty debris associated with ceramic production. Pottery manufacture within the Fortress is a possible explanation if one of the small intense dipole anomalies represents a small kiln, but at best it was a limited activity. The water pipes, lamps, and glass represent efforts to provide certain amenities. Although there is some leeway in assigning dates to these materials, they would not be out of character in a LR to EB context, and may, therefore, have been used by occupants of the Fortress in the fifth century A.D. There would certainly have been a need to organize water use in the installation, with pipes channelling water to and from cisterns and, perhaps, baths. Oil-burning lamps were common at the Sanctuary in many periods (Broneer 1977;Wohl 1981) and one can expect their use in the Fortress area in all phases; several pieces antedate the Fortress. Some of the glass vessels probably date to the ER period, but the Byzantines also made extensive use of such containers. The small, thin size of the glass fragments suggests delicate vessels, possibly containing fine oils or beverages. The small number of glass vessels may further suggest limited access to certain resources. A degree of social differentiation among the occupants is one implication of such an unequal distribution of what might be considered prestige items. The small number of these various items may also be a function of being part of an undifferentiated dump. Figure 41 presents the distribution of these various materials. Clustering within and between the different categories is evident to some extent. The northeast sector of the Fortress has almost none of this material, suggesting it did not serve in the same capacity as other parts of the site. It may have been a specialized area, but one that stressed a more purely military purpose, such as a muster area for troops near the main gate facing the on-coming enemy. There is only a limited degree of positive locational correlation among the various classes of artifacts. This is expected since the categories tend to reflect different types of activities and should thus be spatially distinct (i.e., exhibit a negative correlation). The association is clearest with those artifact types whose functions coincide, or at least do not obviate one another. Glass and lamps 178 exhibit such a close relationship; each type fits easily into a domestic inventory, while other categories, such as beehives and glass vessels, do not complement each other either in terms of the functions or contexts one might associate with those types of artifacts. Another possible Indicator of functional differences is the distribution of fine wares. Assuming that the differences in social class between officers and common soldiers was reflected in the types of artifacts used by each group, there should be distinct spatial aggregation of such material if the two groups had separate quarters. Ceramic fine wares are used here as indicators of high social rank on the assumption that the social and military elite possessed a disproportionately high percentage of the better ceramic material. Roman and Byzantine officers often came from aristocratic backgrounds (Garlan 1975:158-159) and customarily carried considerable personal baggage on campaign (Keppie 1984:100-101). Thus, clusters of LR fine wares are taken to be areas probably occupied by officers and senior non-commissioned officers. Webster (1985:196-197) notes the more elaborate nature of officers’ quarters in Roman fortresses. Locations of LR fine wares appear on Figure 42. Several areas of clustering are evident, particularly in the central and south-central parts of the Fortress. These concentrations coincide with the expectation that the largest contingent of officers in a Roman or Byzantine army would be found in the center of the camp, the characteristic location of the headquarters or principia (Webster 1985:171,184). The diversity of surface material and its distribution provide us with important insights into the behavioral elements that created the initial scatter. The variety of categories reflects the range of activities in which occupants engaged. For the military camp, there is the indication of integrated activities, perhaps with the goal of making the installation self-sufficient, at least in part, so that it could withstand an attack in force or a siege. This situation suggests a complex relationship with residents of the surrounding territory. If the troops were part of the standing army and not just a local militia, as Procopius states was the case in the sixth century, the garrison would have required provisions from farmers and a number of manufactured products (e.g., pottery, livery) from local craftsmen. Certain items, such as metal weapons may have been forged or repaired on the site. The economic and social relations between locals and soldiers must have been rather intricate. The third problem to be addressed using the surface assemblage deals specifically with the location of structures. Surface surveys in various parts of Greece have noted the close relationship of rooftile scatters to ancient structures. It is assumed that a similar relationship holds in the Fortress. Because of the confined space and the considerable degree of occupation in the enclosure, however, it is not clear how well this connection will be expressed. In addition inward and outward roof collapse would leave different patterns on the ground. In the former case, tiles would be clustered Inside a structure, while in the latter, a "shadow" of tiles would mark the perimeter of the building. Rooftiles can also be collected and stored for later reuse. With these considerations in mind, an effort is made to determine if concentrations of rooftiles in the Fortress correspond to known or suspected buildings, or if instead these objects are 180 rather haphazardly spread throughout the site, due to plowing and other events, so that no such determination is possible. Because of the large number of rooftiles (19,129), display is by means of a contour map (Figure 43). The highest densities appear in the south and east sectors, but with substantial concentrations elsewhere. Rooftiles represent a high frequency, high ubiquity, high density artifact type. This category is extremely common, but it can still be used as an indicator of functional loci by pinpointing the location of buildings. Conversely, areas of low rooftile density may represent open spaces used for military drills, general assemblies or perhaps even for gardens. With so much material, there is the problem of determining the threshold that separates background scatter from culturally meaningful concentrations. In examining the frequency distribution, there are 305 sample squares with rooftile counts of 1-20 pieces, 308 with counts of 21-40, 80 with 41 -60, 23 with 61-80, and 9 with 81-109. Using an arbitrary contour threshold of 35 rooftiles as possibly indicating a structure, the southeast corner of the Fortress has several significant clusters, as do the far western fringe and the area between Towers 3 and 4 that has the highest concentration in the enclosure. The concentration in the southeast corner coincides with the structures indicated by magnetic and electrical techniques. The other two high density areas, though, lack extant walls and geophysical structural anomalies. The rooftile distribution may suggest either the presence of substantial buildings or dumping. For reasons explored in Chapter V, I believe these latter two tile concentrations reflect the locations of large barracks buildings. 181 Architectural stone Is another category with the potential of indicating the presence of structures, included in this category are worked blocks, revetment, marble fragments, and tesserae. The pieces of marble probably represent broken revetment, but without two surfaces for examination it is impossible to be certain. These four types are plotted in Figure 44. The largest cluster of marble, revetment, and tesserae is in the center of the Fortress (several clusters circled in Figure 44) where the command post may have stood. Each type individually marks this area as significant, and the overlap of all three reinforces this impression. Although no individual worked blocks were in any sample units, there are several walls in this area. Several other smaller concentrations of architectural stone are located in the northwest and south sectors. The material in the northwest sector may largely reflect residue from construction of the Fortress wall. The marble and revetment in the southeast sector, however, correspond moderately well to the major structural anomaly detected by the geophysical techniques. Some of the revetment has the appearance of small triglyphs, and almost certainly comes from the Bath where such pieces are abundant. These fragments may have been stripped from the Bath to decorate some of the Fortress residences, or these items may be part of a fill deposit dumped into the compound. The presence of marble and revetment in clusters around the Fortress might suggest a degree of opulence for a number of structures, thus minimizing social and hierarchical differentiation. Several factors make differentiation more explicit. First, the density of revetment and marble is considerably higher in the central zone than anywhere else (N=32 or 84.21% 182 for revetment and N=72 or 51.06% for marble In the two central clusters). Second, the distribution of tesserae is concentrated near the center of the Fortress (N=10, 83.33% , in the two clusters). Though few in number, the tesserae are indicators of wealth since these decorative pieces were used in elaborate mosaic floors, such as might grace the commander's quarters. Caesar's headquarters tent during the Gallic campaigns contained a portable mosaic floor (Suetonius, Caesar. 46). These tesserae are larger than those from the Roman Bath, although they may have been brought in from elsewhere. The major problem in suggesting that most of the architectural stone dates to the first military occupation of the Fortress area is that much of the material is not temporally diagnostic. Excavation, though, has revealed that ER structures in the area lacked much architectural embellishment (Jenkins and Megaw 1931-2). The amount of marble in the Fortress may be largely the result of the LR-EB efforts to strip usable stone from structures in the Sanctuary for use in the Fortress and Hexamilion. The number of worked blocks from Greek and Roman monuments built into the fortifications bear witness to the extensive use of spolia.

GENERAL DISCUSSION As outlined in the Introduction, this study focuses on three problems at different levels of abstraction. One problem is methodological, a second is descriptive and site-specific, and the third deals with the broader historical context. The methodological issue is discussed below in light of the results just presented. The layout of the site is discussed both in this 183 section and In Chapter V. The larger question of transition is dealt with in Chapter VI. The field research yielded an abundance of Information useful in determining the size and variety of structures within the Fortress, and the intensity of cultural activity through time. Of the four geophysical techniques employed, only the self-potential method proved to be totally unreliable under the prevailing geological conditions at Isthmia. On the whole, magnetometry, electrical resistivity and electrical resistance provided comparable results that can be used to corroborate the evidence from any single method. These techniques permitted the delineation of structures whose visible walls belie the actual size of the buildings. Covering the same areas with different equipment permits an assessment of viability and efficiency. Both of the electrical methods provided reasonably good data, but the stone rubble impeded the signal in certain areas. In addition, the physical labor involved in probe set-up and transfer slowed the work pace noticeably. With a small stand for the reading head, magnetometry proceeded rapidly even on rocky terrain. The structural complexity of the Fortress presented the geophysical techniques with a series of obstacles that no one approach solved. In terms of viability and efficiency magnetometry proved to be the most successful method, followed by electrical resistivity and electrical resistance. Because of the variety of features and circumstances that are encountered on a structurally complex site, our results suggest it is advisable to employ at least two techniques in a geophysical survey. At a general level of assessment, the use of the geophysical methods at the Isthmian Fortress 184 was moderately successful. The best application proved to be in terms of tracing out the extent of structures already indicated by visible remains. The amount of stone on the surface and the presence of large modern features (road, cemetery, churchyard) created difficulties in implementation and interpretation. Any further statement on the success of this part of the fieldwork must await future digging to compare the interpretation of anomalies provided above with excavated features. The surface survey provides further control over the interpretation of geophysical anomalies as well as being an independent data-gathering technique. The surface assemblage offers both chronological and functional information that is important in making sense of the sub-surface features. The surface collection and geophysical techniques together formed an integrated strategy for understanding site layout. Operated in conjunction with one another, surface survey and geophysical methods offer results that can aid in interpretation of a site and guide future excavation. A comparison of the results from both approaches reveals the complex nature of the relationship between surface and sub-surface materials. The correlation between various categories of ceramics and structural anomalies seems to vary according to the type of ceramics considered. In this case, the geophysical anomalies act as constants against which we can consider the nature of the surface collection. The distribution of LR pottery in the southeastern part of the Fortress matches fairly well with the interior of a magnetic and electrical structural anomaly (see Figure 31). The rooftile distribution in the same area, however, shadows the anomaly. This discrepancy may be due to the differing use and decay 185 patterns of the ceramics In question. As household utensils one would expect pottery to be found Inside a structure, whereas rooftiles falling off of a pitched roof would tend to cluster around the perimeter of a building. As a result, the distributions of pottery and rooftiles seem to be complementary rather than overlapping. The other magnetic anomalies do not present such a clear relationship to the ceramics. This may be due to the features represented by the anomalies. One would not expect the kiln or the small dipoles (perhaps iron artifacts) to have the same type of functional Interrelationships with domestic pottery and rooftiles that residential structures do. Several of the electrical anomalies that may represent structures correspond rather well with the LR pottery. Several concentrations of surface materials are not associated with geophysical anomalies. In such cases the surface collection data supplement the geophysical data, filling In an informational void. For example, the clusters of LR pottery In proximity to dense rooftile scatters define possible structures (compare Figures 35 and 43). By this approach two to three more structures are added to those revealed by geophysics. The overlap between the major concentration of architectural stone and LR pottery suggests the presence of a sizable structure In the center of the Fortress This concentration of stone only partially overlaps with a dense rooftile cluster. Because of the paucity of geophysical surveys In the Peloponnesos, comparisons between the Isthmian Fortress and other Byzantine sites In the area must rest on excavation and surface collections. Only the latter 186 will be dealt with here. The nearby EB Site 2 at Akra Sofia has a mean artifact density of 8.78/m2 (Gregory 1985a:421) compared to Isthmia’s 37.51/m2, indicating more intensive use of the Fortress area. Comparisons with other areas further highlights the magnitude of the Fortress assemblage. Mean artifact density at Kenchreai is 7.90/m2, the Eastern Korinthia 0.35/m2 (Gregory 1985a:421), the Thisbe Plain in Boiotia 1.68/m2, Kouveli Island in the Korinthian 6ulf 2.39/m2 (Gregory 1983), and 1.81/m2 in the central Boiotian Plain (Bintliff and Snodgrass 1985:132-133). The much higher density in the Fortress is probably due to the compact nature of a military camp. The variety of material at the Fortress and Akra Sofia is quite similar. One would expect differences because the two locations had different functions. The majority of the assemblage at Isthmia is not strictly military in character. The differences are in the numbers of artifacts rather than in the categories represented. The similarity of artifact types in the Fortress to those at Akra Sofia suggests several things: 1) For the time period represented (fifth to seventh centuries A.D.), both sites had access to wide-ranging trade networks, reflected in imported wares such as African Red Slip. 2) Some artifacts such as beehive fragments, cooking ware, etc. may indicate many of the needs of Fortress residents were met internally. Alternatively, the beehive fragments and other items in the Fortress may represent occupation in a non-military context. Even if one views the Fortress at its inception as self-sufficient in some commodities, there may still have been strong ties to other communities. The diversity of intramural materials may represent the desire to be 187 self-sufficient when under attack or seige rather than a long-term self-reliance under all circumstances. In any case, surface surveys suggest the Fortress was not an isolated community in the EB period. The information provided by excavation, the geophysical survey and the surface collection contributes to our understanding of site formation in the Fortress. The surface material indicates ephemeral use of the area in the pre-Roman phases. Various excavations have confirmed this impression, with no structures and few artifacts located antedating the first century B.C. In the ER period, several small structures were built along the east slope, a monumental building was erected near and partly under the later west wall of the Fortress, and the arch framed the roadway at the northeast entrance into the Sanctuary. With this activity, the transformation of the site began in earnest. This substantial occupation is reflected in the surface material, a direct result of the increased pace of site usage. The most dramatic transformation of the site occurred with the construction of the Hexamilion and Fortress in the early fifth century A.D. Erecting the walls defined clear boundaries for activities and the accumulation of cultural debris. Most of the ER occupation was obscured by construction of the west Fortress wall directly over the large ER structure, the filling and levelling in the eastern sector, and the transformation of the arch into a gate. Building up this portion of the Sanctuary occurred at the expense of other sectors since many ancient structures were systematically dismantled and the blocks reused in the fortifications. The scatter of worked blocks and marble revetment on the surface may reflect 188 this systematic reuse. The intensity of occupation in the fifth to seventh centuries is revealed in the amount of diagnostic material from this period. The archaeological record was affected by the military construction. Foundation trenches were dug, earlier deposits disturbed, and Sanctuary buildings dismantled and the stone used in the fortifications. The topography of the site was altered by the filling episode. In addition, FR structures were buried or obscured. There is evidence of discard behavior from this phase. The excavation of Towers 6 and 7 revealed that the bottom levels had been used as trash dumps. A rtifacts found there Include amphorae and cooking vessels (Broneer 1959:321). There is a question as to how this activity affected artifact distribution within the Fortress. If only certain types of material were discarded in this manner then the surface collection would not be representative of the site as a whole. There are many amphora and coarse ware fragments in the surface assemblage, however. Perhaps not all the towers served as dumps, with much ceramic material tossed into inconspicuous areas in the compound. Some materials probably were discarded outside the walls, but the excavations along the exterior of the fortifications did not reveal any such locations. The large number of rooftiles suggest that the various structures in the Fortress (represented by extant walls and geophysical anomalies) were abandoned and collapsed. Some of this material may have been pushed aside by later occupants; the largest concentration of rooftiles is along the eastern edge near Tower 4 and may be a dump. The various reconstructions and reoccupations of the Fortress mentioned by historical sources and 189 demonstrated in the archaeological remains altered portions of the site (e.g., placing of gate and houses along the w est wall). These accretions to the original fortifications act to complicate interpretation of the occupational sequence but probably stabilized older sections since blocks were repositioned and walls buttressed. The Fortress walls contained sediments effectively, decreasing the redeposition of surface material on lower elevations as a result of erosion. This has probably helped maintain the integrity of the archaeological levels. At the same time, the stream east of the Fortress was impeded by the Hexamilion when drainage openings became clogged after abandonment of the fortifications. This situation led to the accumulation of deep sediments that filled the channel, significantly changing the appearance of the natural topography. The continued robbing of blocks by locals, further collapse of walls, and growth of vegetation have combined to give the Fortress its present appearance. Cultivation of the interior area has resulted in artifacts being brought to the surface and further destruction of structures by plowing. Despite the dragging of artifacts by plowing, relationships between surface material and structures are discernible. The formation of the archeological record at the Isthmian Fortress is not the straightforward result of, to use Schiffer’s (1976) terms, c-transforms creating the original pattern that was subsequently acted upon by n-transforms. Instead, there was alternating predominance of natural and cultural factors throughout the history of the site. At times of Intense occupation, as in the early fifth century A.D., the human element came to the fore, but natural forces continued to be in effect. Even if one is not always able to discriminate which of the factors is responsible for some aspect of the archaeological record, an awareness of the interplay between them alerts the researcher to the possibility of alternative explanations for the patterns seen on and in the ground. CHAPTER V INTERNAL CORRELATIONS: DEVELOPMENTS AT ISTHMIA

The presentation of the data In the preceding chapter provides a picture of the remains In the Fortress In their current archaeological context. Based on the analysis undertaken, the next step Is to place the isthmian Fortress In its systemic context (Schlffer 1972), I.e., to consider the site as a functioning element of the culture that produced and utilized this installation. I am concerned with this systemic context at two levels. First Is the effort to comprehend how the Fortress and its occupants functioned as a unit, including the number of soldiers and the relationships between the various parts of the military group as represented by the different buildings and spatial associations, and the ties between the military contingent and local residents that reveal something about the role of the site In the local settlement system. These relationships, dealt with In this chapter, I collectively call Internal correlations. Comparanda consist of evidence from other Roman and Byzantine military camps. The second level Is concerned with placing the Isthmian Fortress In Its larger context, both geographically as part of the Aegean region and culturally as part of the Byzantine sphere. The term external correlations refers to these broader Implications for the Isthmian data and relates to the issue 191 192 of transition from Late Antiquity to the Early Byzantine period; this Issue Is considered 1n Chapter VI. To Initiate the consideration of the Internal correlations, I first examine the nature of Roman and Byzantine camps and military organization. Then, the question of the number and size of units In the Isthmla garrison Is examined. This latter query Is addressed on the basis of the size of the Fortress and Its constituent buildings. Evidence from the structures and the surface collection forms the basis for discussing the relationship of the troops to civilian residents of the area. The arrangement of the major structures within the Fortress that Is proposed below Is based on comparisons to that In Roman and Byzantine military camps In other parts of the Empire. In central Europe In the fourth and fifth centuries, camp layout followed traditional patterns. The principia, the administrative core of the camp, was located In the center at the intersection of the two main roads. The principia consisted of the praetortum (residence of the commanding officer), the sacellum (sanctuary of the standards), the altar of the genius of the unit, the treasury, the drill hall, and the armamentaria (arsenal). Elsewhere In the enclosure could be found the horea (granaries), the centurlae (barracks), a hospital, workshops, and stables (Schutz 1905:28). A similar layout is evident In the sixth-century Byzantine forts In North Africa, except that the sacellum and altar have given way to the chapel (Pringle 19 8 1:164- 166). Webster’s (1985) study of the Roman army in the first two centuries of the Empire provides considerable information on the evolution of military camps into permanent fortresses and the adoption of standard layouts. Wherever possible, the axial format was followed. Despite the 193 variety of facilities situated In a fortress, soldiers’ barracks occupied most of the space. These barracks were often arranged in narrow rectangular blocks in pairs, a holdover, Webster believes, of the rows of tents In original campaign camps. Each contubernlum, or tent group, of eight men had one room (3.7 x 4.6 m) for storage, and another (4.6 x 4.6 m“21.16 m2 » or 2.65 m2 per man-compare with Table 4) for sleeping. A colonnaded area ran along one long side and the sleeping quarters opened onto this walkway that, In northern Europe, was lined with wicker trash baskets. For a century (usually 80 men at full strength) ten pairs of rooms would have been required, but It was common to have eleven or twelve, perhaps for supplemental storage. In addition, the centurion’s quarters, consisting of eight or nine rooms, were appended to one end and served as the company office and storerooms, as well as the centurion’s personal chambers, complete with latrine and washroom (Webster 1985:197 -198). The large legionary camps (20-25 ha) held fifty or more barracks buildings. The auxiliary forts provide better comparanda for the Isthmian Fortress. The fortress at Caerhun In Wales encloses 1.97 ha and has at least five barrack blocks, with four other unidentified structures which may also have served as living quarters (Webster 1985:184-192,217). The Isthmian Fortress, at 2.71 ha, could have accomodated up to thirteen or fourteen such barracks. For the Byzantine period, Pringle’s (1981:86) discussion of the barracks In the sixth-century fortress at Thamugadl (0.75 ha) in North Africa Is Instructive. Each of the eight rows of barracks contained eleven compartments, all roughly equal In size (varying from 9 m2 to 14 m2). Each 194 row had a veranda down one side onto which each room opened. A difference with the first and second century A.D. legionary fortresses Is that at Thamugadi the sleeping quarters of the contubernlum was on a second floor, the ground level being occupied by storerooms or stables, whereas in northern Europe storerooms and sleeping compartments were both on the ground level. The sleeping compartments would have been small (11-16 m2) and Pringle argues they housed six rather than eight men. Each row of barracks, then, would have held sixty-six men. The organizational structure of the LR and EB army Is known from several primary sources, Including the anonymous de Re strateglca The discussions of Pringle (1981), Schutz (1985), and Gregory (In Press) on military organization are based primarily on this work. The smallest category was the contubernlum, a mess group of six to eight men who occupied one room in the barracks and prepared meals together. The basic tactical unit was the numerus or tagma, comprised of four centuries of 64 men each, for a total of 256, although actual numbers varied from 100 to 500. The cavalry equivalent of the century was the turma, which consisted of half the number of men In the Infantry unit. A tribune commanded one or more tagmata, while a centurion was responsible for each century. The barracks consisted of rows of contubemla, while officers occupied better quarters in separate buildings. A group of elite troops, the bucellaril, often occupied barracks In the center of the enclosure near the commander (Pringle 1981:86). Another distinction In troop composition was between the comitatenses, soldiers from the regular field armies, and the limltanei, 195 soldiers recruited from amongst the local provincials to serve on the frontiers and generally considered of lesser combat quality. A number of foederati, or allies, (usually from various non-Romanlzed barbarian groups) often Joined In military operations (Pringle 1981:68-59). Analysis of the surface collection and geophysical data reveals the presence of a number of structures within the Fortress enclosure. Most of the suggested features are directly associated with visible walls. Figure 45 presents the extant walls, and the extensions associated with these known walls revealed by field work. In addition, the research produced evidence of possible structures with no visible remains and these hypothesized buildings are shown In Figure 45. The dotted lines representing suggested walls (except Structures 7,8,9, and 10) In Figure 45 were drawn primarily on the basis of the correlation of visible walls and geophysical anomalies. For example, Structure 1 Is represented by two adjoining sections of extant walls. Magnetic and electrical readings Indicated the continuation of a wall 25 m further to the west along the line of the visible east-west section. The slight displacement to the south of anomalies recorded by magnetometry has been compensated for In the north wall of Structure 1 by placing the proposed wall ca. 1 m north of the line Indicated by the magnetics. Thus, the visible section and the geophysical anomaly together Indicate the north wall was ca. 30 m long. The electrical techniques provide substantiation for this conclusion, since the resistivity and resistance anomalies continue due west from the visible wall. The width (north-south) of the structure was estimated from linear anomalies that seem to represent crosswalls. 196 These anomalies reach to the southern boundary (50S) of the surveyed area, ca. 18-20 m from the north wall. These east-west and north-south measurements are taken to be maximum dimensions, so the area of the structure Is derived by multiplying these two figures (see Table 4). A similar approach Is used in estimating the size of Structure 2, but with only one small section of visible wall, there is greater reliance on the geophysical, especially electrical, anomalies. The dimensions of Structures 7,8,9, and 10 are estimated on the basis of a suggested similarity In function (i.e., barracks) with Structures 1 and 2. The layout of the site in the fifth century A.D. can now be discussed In light of this restoration. A massive building, Structure 1, dominates the southeast sector. The size and location of this structure suggest It may be a barracks. Several walls just to the north of this building seem not to be connected to It and are designated Structure 2. The presence of two barracks In the same area would suggest this was a key residential part of the Fortress. Since the barracks would have been close to the South Gate, access to the Fortress by bodies of troops would have been facilitated. If parts of these structures were set aside for storage, carts entering through the South Gate could unload their cargo without proceeding too far Into the Fortress. This southern area would have been one of the most protected in the enclosure since attacks were anticipated from the north. The descriptions provided by Webster (1985) and Pringle (1981) together provide the comparative basis for understanding the size and form of barracks in the Isthmian Fortress. Since Pringle specifically discusses EB fortresses, some of the particulars of his study are more appropriate in 197 the context of Isthmla. Barracks in the Fortress may have been two stories high. The Interior crosswalls Indicated by geophysical techniques In Structure 1 may reflect dividers that separated rooms by military unit (see below). Since such walls would have provided support for a second floor, one may project the same scheme of room division to an upper level. In addition, Pringle (1981:86) notes that an overhanging veranda was common on the second floor of North African barracks, providing access to all rooms, and a similar arrangement may have held at Isthmla. Other barracks may have existed in the Fortress, but lack of other large linear anomalies makes pinpointing the location of such features difficult. One possible spot Is the northwest area, south of the cemetery, where there 1s open ground and a substantial scatter of surface artifacts. Such positioning of barracks would have spread out forces within the Fortress. As an alternative explanation, Pringle (1981:86) notes that In North African Byzantine forts, additional barracks were often built against the defensive walls. Our Inability to examine strips abutting on the circuit walls, because of obstacles such as fences and recent walls, leaves the presence of such barracks an open question. There may be an Independent Indicator that such structures did abut on the Fortress Walls. The barracks area in the southeast sector lies between Towers 5 and 6, a distance of 50 m. There are several other locations In the Fortress with similar long stretches of wall between towers. There are such sections In the northeast, between Towers 2 and 3, and between Towers 3 and 4, and In the northwest, between Towers 13 and 14, and Towers 14 and 15. These four stretches could accomodate long buildings (Structures 7, 8, 9, 10, 198 respectively In Figure 45) without Interfering with activities In the towers. Other than the southeast, the evidence points to considerable use of the central zone of the Fortress. In the east-central area, two parallel walls, with a curved, apse-like appendage on the north end, constitute Structure 3. This may be one of the buildings described by Monceaux (1884) and Stals (1903) as a chapel. Chapels certainly were an Important element of EB military Installations, often housing a shrine to the Virgin Mary as protector of the empire. Such structures may also have served to house the military standards and as a place to administer oaths to military personnel (Pringle 1981:164). The problem with Structure 3 at Isthmla Is that the apse would be on the north end of the building Instead of on the east side. The surface collection did not yield any material that exhibits Christian symbols In this vicinity. Although a Fortress of this size could be expected to have had a chapel, no such religious structure has been Identified; perhaps it Is under the present chapel of St. John at the north end of the enclosure. Structure 3 may be related to the large anomaly Immediately to the northeast. The forge or forge debris that this anomaly may represent indicates specialized economic activity, with an effort to make the garrison self-sufficient, as mentioned in the previous chapter. A structure of some sort would have housed this enterprise, but none of the visible walls lines up with the large anomaly. The closest association Is with Structure 4, a narrow 4 m long piece of a wall with Its north end at 30N-20W, and with Structure 3. None of these walls has the appearance of 199 a forge, but perhaps the single wall of Structure 4 is a remnant of a storage building associated with the manufacturing activity. Magnetic anomaly 3 to the east of Structure 4 Initially defined as a pit filled with debris may also have been a storage facility. A forge may have been situated In the eastern half of the Fortress to take advantage of prevailing winds to carry smoke outside the Fortress without noxious fumes blowing across the Inhabited part of the compound. No other areas of such Industrial activity are evident. The scattered pieces of metal and ceramic slag, kiln wasters, and molten bronze suggest specialized production, but the small sample Is Insufficient to indicate patterning. One feature of the interior that may be telling Is the clustering of structures and surface artifacts in the southern two-thirds of the Fortress. If the churchyard and cemetery can be assumed to be similarly low In feature and artifact density, the northern tier was largely an open space In the fifth century. Setting aside a sizable portion of this area for troop movement, drills, and assemblies, some sections may have been left over for planting gardens to supplement the drab military diet. The section near the east wall would have been most appropriate because of the deep fill that was brought In there. Most food needs probably were supplied by local farmers or soldiers working the fields around the Fortress (see below). Supplying water must have been a key concern. No wells or cisterns are clearly evident Inside the Fortress walls. The few pieces of water pipe suggest the channelling of water. The stream to the south and east and the Great Drain to the west could have provided abundant water 1n the rainy 200 season, but storage In cisterns or large pools would have been necesary In the summer. The location of such water storage features, however, Is not evident from the results of the current field work. Based on the distribution of certain artifact classes, such as architectural stone and LR fine ware, the headquarters or principia seems to have been located near the center of the enclosure, perhaps In the area between 20N and 60N. With one exception there are only several small extant wall fragments In this area and the geophysical evidence for the presence of a large structure here is ambiguous. As a result, there Is heavy reliance on the surface collection data In this case. The one exception Is a fragment of a thick wall near 10N-60W with a facing of fine ashlar blocks and a rubble core (Structure 5); this structure may be part of the headquarters complex, although It Is slightly west of the central area and the heaviest concentration of surface materials. This wall does, however, exhibit the level of workmanship one might expect In the commander’s compound. Since the walls of the isthmian Fortress do not form a neat square or rectangle, some of the symmetry visible In other Roman and Byzantine camps 1s absent. There probably was only one road, connecting the two gates along a curving route. The disposition of the various buildings described above may not be as regular as elsewhere because of the unusual shape of the enclosure. The orientation of most structures along the cardinal directions and the size of the buildings Indicate considerable organization. The command center seems to have been situated 1n the heart of the enclosure, equidistant from either gate. The forge In the southeast 201 part of this complex may be associated with an arsenal. The amount of high quality material In this central zone (LR fine ware, glass, marble, tesserae) suggests the presence of elaborate structures to house and serve officers. Distortion of geophysical readings by stone rubble, metal scrap and the bell tower may have obscured the presence of other features, such as a chapel. In addition, the modern church and cemetery prohibited examination of the far northern zone. The barracks building (Structure 1) in the southeast of the Fortress Is certainly not the only such structure. The northwest area has already been mentioned as another possible location. In the northeast sector, although there are fewer surface artifacts, several worked blocks are present. Furthermore, a section of the bedrock In this zone was cut down on the north and east, creating the corner of a platform that may have served as the foundation for a large building. Considerable storage is attested by the number of amphorae and other large vessels. Storage sites may have been In the ground floors of large structures, like the barracks. The ground level In such buildings could also have served as stables (Pringle 1981:165, 405). Considering the distances to be covered by soldiers manning the Hexamlllon from a central base at the Fortress, cavalry detachments would have been Indispensable for communication and rapid troop movements. The size and organizational structure of the Fortress garrison can be estimated by several different approaches. Some of these approaches require estimates of available roofed floor space In buildings. Table 4 presents the area and floor space for the buildings discussed above, including the hypothetical barracks abutting on the Fortress walls. The 202 available floor space figure assumes that all barracks were two stories tall, the lower for storage or stables, the upper occupied by soldiers. Those buildings represented by one wall (e.g., Structures 4 and 5) are assumed to be square In plan and one story In height. A variety of different techniques has been proposed to estimate population size from archaeological data. These techniques follow different avenues In addressing the problem. One approach uses information from excavated households and ethnographic data to estimate the amount of floor space or living area needed by an Individual. The other m ajor approach uses total site area, instead of household or compound area, as the basis for population estimates. One of the most cited examples of the floor space approach is Naroll's (1962) work, which Involved examining a large sample of ethnographic sources. Naroll determined that the ratio of enclosed floor space per person Is a relatively constant 10:1 relationship (I.e., each person requires 10 m2 of floor space). Cook and Heizer (1965) argue that their California data confirm Naroll's findings. It seems that this coefficient applies basically to permanent settlements with substantial houses, but would not be an accurate estimate for temporary camp shelters (Hole and Heizer 1969:307). This aspect of the Naroll coefficient Is confirmed by several applications. The method proved effective In estimating population for the fortress of Qsar es- Seghlr, a Medieval site In Morocco with Islamic and Portuguese phases (Redman 1986:238-239), and for the Middle Bronze Age community at Phylakopl on Melos (Cherry 1979:42-43). 203 LeBlanc (1971) offers a more detailed critique of the Naroll approach, although he does not abandon the basic premise. LeBlanc argues that Naroll's coefficient Is not universally applicable and should be used with caution. He suggests that to derive a general law of floor area, data are needed on the amount of roofed area and walled space, not just total floor area. What he terms the average total area per person, Including areas used for storage and social activities, varies considerably In his sample of villages In Samoa, Iran, and Peru. When he isolated living space, however, the average floor area per person clustered around 10 m2. The implied proviso is that the archaeologist must be able to distinguish clearly living space from storage, ceremonial and other areas. If this can be done, Naroll's coefficient may be a good approximation of average living space per person and can be justifiably used to estimate population size. A variation of the Naroll approach was adopted by Mlllon (1973:44 -45) who concentrated on available sleeping space In the apartment complexes at Teotlhuacan. He estimated size of sleeping rooms at 120 m2 and number of occupants at two to four people, yielding a generous space allotment of 30-60 m2 per person. He purposefully used conservative figures so as not to overinflate estimates of the city’s population. The second approach, using total surface area of a site, has been used In various studies. One of the first efforts In this vein was by Cook and Treganza (1950:231-233). Their sample of California sites indicated a correlation between site area and population, but the reason for this relationship was not clear. Later work (Cook and Heizer 1968) Indicated that the nature of this correlation is tied to the ecological setting of a site 204 and to social factors. In critiquing Naroll's method, Welssner (1974) also supports the total settlement area approach. She argues that population cannot be a constant fraction of floor space because as population Increases, the area per person decreases. Borrowing from a geographic model, Welssner recommends using the formula: Area=constant x Population** (Equation 2) In which b Is a fraction with the numerator always two and the denominator varying from one for camps, to two for villages, and three for cities. Welssner's concern Is with camps of hunters and gatherers for which the Naroll coefficient provides Inaccurate population estimates. The distortion Is also pronounced for cities, but minimal for villages. Therefore, the Naroll approach may be applicable to the Isthmian Fortress because It fits Welssner's definition for village-type occupation (area rather evenly filled and exhibits areal Instead of vertical dimensioning, I.e., there are few multlple-story structures such as one would find In modern cities). As a starting point, Naroll's (1962) figure of 10 m2/person of floor space Is used to calculate a population for the Fortress (see Table 4). This floor space Includes all roofed areas, I.e., sleeping quarters, storage areas, corridors, and non-residential space. Such floor space figures should also consider enclosed courtyards that were not roofed but would still have been Important, especially in the warm months of the year when much activity could have been conducted out of doors. Since such areas can not be discerned from the Fortress data, only roofed floor space is used. The population estimate from the Naroll coefficient must thus be viewed as a 205 conservative figure. Perhaps more appropriate in this context is the approach followed by Pringle (1981:86). He proposes i.8 m2 to 2.7 m2 of floor space per man in the sleeping compartments based on evidence from the EB fortress at Thamugadi in North Africa. At Thamugadl, the available sleeping space in the excavated barracks varied from 11 m2 to 16 m2. Pringle assumes that the typical contubernium complement of eight men in a legionary camp would have unduly crowded the troops. As a result, he suggests six men were assigned to each sleeping room (11 m2/6 men=1.8 m2/man; 16 m2/6 men=2.8 m2/man). The occupants per building and totals for the whole Fortress at Isthmia based on Pringle's coefficients are also presented in Table 4. No estimates are given for Building 4 since it seems to be associated with production (forge) or storage (arsenal). The elaborate construction of Structure 5 suggests it may have been part of the headquarters complex, perhaps the residence of the commander (praetorium) or other officers, and thus would have been much less crowded. It is assumed here that the occupants of this structure would require at least five times more space per individual than common soldiers and the totals reflect the difference; the number of residents for Structure 5 is arbitrarily set at a low figure of three. Gregory (In Press) has provided another population estim ate for the Fortress based on another portion of Pringle's (1981) work. The Isthmian Fortress, at 2.71 ha, falls in the intermediate range of Pringle's list that rank orders all the Byzantine North African forts. Based on this and several related factors, including proximity to but not incorporation into a large population center, Gregory (In Press) suggests the Fortress may have held a maximum force of 2000 men. This yields a density of 738 people/ha (2000/2.71), far beyond the range of other estimates for even large historic settlements. Russell (1958:64-66), In a detailed demographic survey of Europe and clrcum-Medlterranean regions in Late Antiquity and Medieval times, provides estim ates of 160 people/ha for ancient Pompeii, 250-350 people/ha for imperial Rome, and 200 people/ha for Constantinople in the fifth century. Other studies have suggested the figure of 200 people/ha as a mean density for Middle Eastern villages (Adams 1965) and Aegean settlem ents (Renfrew 1972b). Sumner’s (1979) work in Iran indicates this figure can fluctuate dramatically, from 66 to 293 people/ha in one region, depending on the size of the settlement, amount of open space, and presence of livestock within village walls, among other factors. All of these studies, however, focused on civilian settlements. Based on the evidence of Roman camps In Europe, troops were much more crowded than their civilian counterparts. For example, Webster (1985:171) notes that a legion (operational strength of 5000 men) often camped In an area of ca. 8 ha, as at Reycross In England; such conditions provide a density figure of 625 people/ha. This figure highlights the difference between military camps and residential settlements and underscores the need to be careful In the application of ethnographic analogy. Based on the evidence provided by Webster (1985), Gregory's (In Press) estimate of 2000 men In the Isthmian garrison should be seen as an ultimate limit, but one that Is at least plausible in a military context. 207 Use of the Naroll (1962) coefficient does not seem to be appropriate in this case since one would expect a military Installation to exhibit more crowding than a civilian settlement. The discrepancies In figures derived using different aspects of Pringle's (1981) work reflect estimates based on the living space within structures on the one hand (as In Table 4) and on the total size of the Fortress on the other hand (I.e., Gregory's estimate of 2000 men). A fair estimate would place the size of the EB garrison at between 1200 and 2000 men. Using the density figure of 625 men/ha derived from Webster (1985), the Fortress could have held 1694 soldiers. This figure corresponds closely to the figure of 1724 derived by using the 1.8 m2/man Pringle coefficient for sleeping area and can be taken as a reasonable upper limit that probably would have been reached only when a significant threat to the security of the Peloponnesos was Imminent. The presence of cavalry would have lowered troop strength since a detachment of horsemen required about twice the space as an equal number of Infantry, primarily to shelter their mounts (Pringle 1981:88). Based on the figures derived above, the garrison In the Fortress in the fifth century consisted of at least four, and perhaps as many as eight, tagmata. With four tagmata ( ca. 1000 men) to a legion, there may have been one or two legions stationed a t Isthmla (Gregory, In Press). As to the composition of the troops, Procopius (Buildings IV, 2, 14) states that soldiers manning the fortifications at Thermopylae prior to Justinian's reign were local farmers who proved to be incapable of checking the advance of various Invaders. As a result, they were replaced by comltatenses. Gregory (In Press) believes the situation was the same at 208 Isthmla. One can argue that It would not have made much sense for the state to undertake expensive projects, such as the construction of the Hexamllion and Fortress, only to leave defense of these fortifications In the hands of local militias. I suggest that In the fifth, sixth and perhaps in the seventh centuries, when southern Greece faced invasions or raids in force by formidable barbarian groups, the task of holding the key defenses along the Isthmus was entrusted to contingents of comitatenses aided by locals. At other times, when threats to security were less severe, the locals could probably have defended their territory. Another important consideration Is how the Fortress fit into the settlement scheme In the region. The comitatenses would have required substantial support from surrounding communities to fulfill their needs. The soldiers could provide some of their own food by farming the surrounding fields south of the Hexamllion, keeping domestic animals and bees and gardening Inside the Fortress, but when a full complement of up to 2000 men was stationed at Isthmla such efforts would not have sufficed. Local farm ers would have had to provide food, while merchants, artisans and workmen offered other necessary products and services such as pottery, metal artifacts, leather and wood materials, and labor for various projects. Facilities and personnel at Korlnth and other towns probably supplied a considerable share of these goods and services. A system of rural villas, such as the one at Akra Sofia, could also have provided a substantial number of goods, especially argricultural items. Such villae rustlcae were an Important part of the economic support system elsewhere in the Empire (Schutz 1985:139; Dyson 1979), and there Is some evidence 209 for a sim ilar phenomenon in Greece in LR and EB tim es (Gregory 1985a). The demands made on the countryside by troops in the Fortress on one hand would have been a drain on the local economy, but on the other hand the needs of the garrison for a variety of products could also have acted as a catalyst for economic Intensification. Just as the ancient Sanctuary had been an economic boon because of the demands of visitors for food, drink, lodging, and animals for sacrifice, so, too, the stationing of troops could stimulate local production. The effect of the garrison on the local economy would have been cyclical since the Fortress was probably not occupied continuously. The Sanctuary had had a similar Impact since the number of visitors would rise and fall according to the calendar of festivals. In some basic ways, then, Isthmla continued to serve the surrounding area In a similar fashion, both when the Sanctuary was the focus of activity and when the Fortress became the key part of the site. The final topic of discussion In elaborating the role of the site is to examine changes in site usage through time. This is undertaken by means of an evolutionary perspective. Elements of this viewpoint are evident In the preceding discussion on the economic role of the site. At a superficial level, the construction of the fortifications in the fifth century AD. can be viewed as separating occupation of the site Into two distinct periods: the earlier Sanctuary phase when site activities focused on ritual and athletics and the later military phase when defense was the major concern. Some see such changes as indicative of a major transformation that signals the end of pagan Classical civilization. Upon closer examination, this simple dichotomy does not seem tenable. 210 Throughout Its long history, the site of Isthmla served a variety of functions. The various ancient fortification walls described in Chapter II indicate a concern with defense going back to the Bronze Age. in addition, the number of houses in the East Field and on Rachi and the industrial facilities In the latter area point to residential and commercial facets. To say that ancient Isthmia was exclusively concerned with religious and athletic activities is misleading. Although ceremonial activities were certainly Important, these did not exist in isolation and must be viewed in light of other cultural activity that supported the ritual events. In a similar vein, the site was more than just a military installation after the fortifications were erected. As political stability deteriorated and foreign invasions occurred, people In the region adapted to these changes, emphasizing defense more than they had for some centuries. The buildings of the Sanctuary were sacrificed to this pressing need. The purpose of the Fortress resulting from this activity was twofold: 1) To house the garrison that manned the Hexamllion, and 2) to provide a strong point and area of final refuge (Gregory, In Press). When the immediate threat receded, however, the Fortress became the site of domestic occupation. Military and domestic use of the Fortress alternated, and perhaps coincided at times, for a number of centuries. The role of economic activities under these conditions has already been described above. The major point in this discussion Is that the determinants of site use are practical matters that Impinge equally on all time periods. The differences we see reflected in the buildings of the Sanctuary and the 211 Fortress do not represent a change In basic human approaches to problem-solving. The largely ceremonial nature of the Sanctuary In antiquity, at least at one level of interpretation, was underlain by a stratum of practical considerations. The pragmatic elements are perhaps more evident In viewing the fortifications, but such factors were present before as well. When cultural and historical circumstances required a shift in the types of activity emphasized, the Inhabitants of the region responded by adjusting the use of the site In a way better to meet their Immediate needs. Whether Isthmla served as a Sanctuary or a military base depended on responses to perceived needs and not necessarily some fundamental shift In mental orientation from ethereal, aesthetic considerations to entirely practical defensive ones. The Sanctuary had served economic and residential functions as well as religious ones. The Fortress provided some outlets for ritual 1n the form of the presumed chapel and religious grafitti on walls (Gregory, In Press) and also served a domestic function at different times. The key is that people In various periods could focus on activities they deemed to be of prime Importance, although a wide range of cultural behavior Is evident. CHAPTER VI EXTERNAL CORRELATIONS:ISTH1IA AND THE AEGEAN REGION

INTRODUCTION This section considers the larger problem of the fate of urban culture at the end of antiquity. In Chapter III, the discussion of this Issue was framed In terms of the opposed models of continuity and discontinuity. An effort Is made here to assess which side of the controversy the Isthmian data support, or If some Intermediate position is more tenable. The critical question deals with the degree to which Isthmia reflects the retention of urban characteristics in the period that is commonly considered the end of Classical civilization and the beginning of the Medieval era, I.e., the fifth through the seventh centuries. This task entails a closer look at the arguments of some key scholars concerning the role of cities and how this role changed during the period In question and examination of the position of the Isthmian Fortress in a supra-regional defensive plan.

THE HISTORICAL PROBLEM OF BYZANTINE URBAN COLLAPSE OR CONTINUITY The political structure In the Empire during the EB period suggests certain similarities with the LR phase. Cities and towns maintained a 212 significant position as administrative centers In the EB period. The municipal administrative structure with governing councils, composed of the local aristocracy, was still an Important branch of provincial government. The Imperial government concerned Itself with a number of activities (e.g., tax collection, administration of justice, regulating certain aspects of the economy, construction of large public works), as demonstrated by legal codes. The primary concern of the central administration vis-a-vis the provinces came to be defense. Whereas In the early centuries of the Prlnclpate, defensive measures primarily concerned the frontiers along the perimeter of Roman territory, by the fourth century the government had to deal with barbarian Incursions into the very heartland of the Empire. The defensive measures formerly reserved for the frontiers were brought to bear In Greece, Asia Minor, and elsewhere (Luttwak 1976). If the state was to be preserved, such efforts had to be directed by the central government so that there was a coherent plan. In some Instances, these activities by the government superseded local authority. Rather than necessarily viewing such events as negative because the municipal structure suffered, these adjustments by the central government can be seen as a vigorous response In a crisis period that created the basis for the long-standing ability of the Byzantine state to survive a number of serious challenges (Diehl 1957:48-49). That city life In the Byzantine Empire changed In some Important ways, especially In the sixth to eighth centuries, Is not disputed here. In some parts of the Empire, population shifts occurred and Influenced municipal administration and the system of land-holding, among other things. These 214 changes are often viewed In pejorative terms, as examples of cultural Impoverishment (Kazhdan 1954; Kazhdan and Cutler 1982; Foss 1972,1975, 1977). In some sense, this perspective may be correct, but it does not fully address the question of why the changes occurred. Typically, factors such as foreign Invasion and economic decline are Identified as the culprits. While not denying these elements a significant role, I suggest examining some of the alterations as the result of the Byzantines making choices In an effort to enhance their survival. The de-emphasis of certain aspects of urban life (e.g., loss of administrative autonomy) can then be viewed as part of a contemporary solution to problems rather than as symptomatic of a general decline. As an example of how the two approaches differ, Foss' (1972, 1976) treatment of conditions In Sardis can be critiqued. His viewpoint receives considerable attention below because It was adopted by many Byzantintsts In the 1970s, but has been severely criticized by scholars in this decade (Trombley 1985a). The following discussion is not meant to be a point by point analysis of Foss' thesis. It Is Intended to present some of the key problems with his perspective and thus provide a venue for alternate Interpretations. Foss (1972:407, 1976:56) argues that there was a drastic reduction In the population of Sardis and the surrounding area as a result of the Persian Invasion of the early seventh century. He bases this contention on the abandonment of large public buildings and the reduced area of the city as seen by a shorter circuit wall. As a result, he says, there were simply not enough residents left to maintain the urban culture that had characterized 215 antiquity. Because of the lack of any systematic regional archaeological survey, the location of Byzantine settlements Is not known with any great degree of certainty (Hanfmann and Foss 1983:13,15). More recent efforts at conducting such surveys have proved relatively fruitless because of inexperienced field walkers and other logistical problems (Rautman, personal communication 1987). An alternative to reduction In population In the Sardian plain might have been a shift to a dispersed settlement pattern as a means of surviving the Persian and Arab Invasions of the seventh and eighth centuries. The impact of constant raids could then have been diffused among a population more widely distributed. Large population centers would have been natural targets for the Invaders, and the repeated capture or destruction of such nodes would have crippled administration, communication, and the economy. If the various facilities were dispersed, at least some portion of the regional system could continue to function. There are historical examples of such a response to military Incursion. During the Mexican Revolution (1910-1920), residents of several states abandoned their villages and dispersed to a variety to smaller more isolated settlements when federal troops Invaded their regions (Womack 1970:254,276; Lewis 1963:232). Obviously, resolution of this Issue in the region of Sardis must await accumulation of the appropriate data. The dispersed settlement model Is offered as another possibility, one that considers the role of the Byzantines as active participants In the events of the period. With the current lack of data, either hypothesis may be viable. 216 The discontinuity thesis as espoused by Kazhdan (1954) and Foss (1972, 1975, 1977) encounters greater difficulties when this perspective Is extended to encompass the whole Byzantine world or a significant protlon of It. Kazhdan argues for a general urban decline while Foss states: “City life In western Asia Minor suffered a severe blow from which It never recovered'* (1972:406). In addition to Sardis, Foss cites archaeological, numismatic, and literary evidence concerning Efesos (Foss 1979), Afrodlslas, Pergamon, Magnesia, Ancyra, Priene, and other Anatolian cities (Foss 1972, 1977). In each case he points to the reduced size of the settlement after the Persian invasions, suggesting the sites changed from flourishing cities with Classical roots to Isolated kastra harboring remnant populations without the distinguishing characteristics of Classical urban life, i.e., a municipal council, a diverse monetary economy, multiple social strata, and the ability to collect taxes. While this description may be appropriate for some of the sites Foss discusses, it is not universally applicable. For example, the city of Anemurium in southern Anatolia was commercially active throughout most of the seventh century, despite its proximity to the zone ravaged by the Persians. Russell (1984) suggests this situation throws serious doubts on Foss’ (1975) hypothesis that the Persian invasion of Asia Minor was the primary cause for the decline of the Anatolian polls system. Trombley (1985a:80-81) also rebuts Foss’ argument by presenting evidence from historical texts that the cities of Caesarea, Amorlon, and Euchalta In Anatolia retained lavish public buildings and large populations well after the period of the Persian Invasion, despite attacks by Persians and Arabs In the seventh century. 217 Another problem Is that Foss (1972:405) attributes a thorough destruction of many sites, Including Sardis, to the Persians. The fact that the ancient public buildings (baths, temples, colonnades) are not rebuilt he believes was due to the collapse of the municipal administrative and tax structure In the wake of the Invasions. There is clear evidence, however, that the Persians left many buildings standing In other cities, such as Caesarea In Palestine (Kaegt 1982), located in regions that were conquered rather than just raided, as was Anatolia. An examination of some of the key evidence Foss uses to date the destruction of Sardis Is warranted because he sees this Incident as a prime example of the decline of city life In most of western Anatolia. Foss (1975) unequivocally assigns all destruction levels of major Late Antique structures at Sardis and elsewhere to the period of the Persian incursion based on numismatic evidence. His major point is that the paucity of coins struck after A.D. 615/616 recovered In the Sardis excavations illuminates a sudden economic collapse. Foss then associates the collapse of™large public buildings with this date (A.D. 616) and assumes the perslans were responsible both for the economic disruption leading to reduction In coinage and the razing of the city. Individual finds comprise most of the numismatic evidence. Foss also discusses coin hoards that he believes were burled to hide wealth from marauding Persians. Because of the disruption caused by the Invasion, Foss argues, many of the hoards were not recovered, the depositors either being killed or dispersed. One difficulty with the use of coins to date collapse of structures Is that many of the collections were not discovered in good stratigraphlc contexts in the 218 debris of the buildings, leaving some doubt as to whether all major structures were razed In one episode, as Foss suggests. A number of the coins, both Individual pieces and hoards, found In Sardis and elsewhere, that he discusses do not have precise proveniences and are alluded to as being found in general areas or sites. Since the coins do not securely date the destruction of many structures, a number of the public buildings may have deteriorated over a number of years well after the Persian invasion; sources mention such buildings still In use In other cities In the mid-seventh century and later (Trombley 1985a:71). Serious doubt also exists whether the Persians ever sacked Sardis (Russell 1986:140). Trombley (1985a:78) argues there Is no evidence that the Persians ever got that far west in the period 615-626. Foss admits there Is no historical evidence for this attack. He places the Persians in Sardis In 616 because they were In Anatolia and because coins struck between 616 and 627 are scarce at Sardis. If the Persians never threatened Sardis, the numismatic evidence does not relate directly to the demise of the city. For example, If coins were not hoarded out of fear of attack these may have been deposited at a much later date for any of a variety of reasons, such as simple storage or to evade tax collection, unrelated to urban decline. Trombley (1985a:76) also points out that Foss does not correlate the quantity of coins to other archaeological materials, especially pottery. Byzantine ceramics appear In large amounts In Palestine (occupied by the Persians) up to the Arab conquest, Indicating no significant break In the early seventh century. Such studies still need to be done at Sardis. Russel] (1986:140-142) also questions Foss' use of numismatic evidence at various levels. The most common use of coins by archaeologists, Russell says, Is to provide a terminus post auem for a stratlgraphlc level, but he argues that LR and Byzantine components in the Aegean area are rarely sufficiently sealed to provide an 1ron-clad date, such as the year AD. 616 that Foss fixes on for the destruction of Sardis. Furthermore, of the many coins found In excavations In the Mediterranean, very few are precisely datable. Referring specifically to Foss’ thesis, Russell states: "In this case a scenario based on the Interpretation of a very limited sample of archaeological evidence has been mistaken for a certain historical event" (1986:140). Other studies have shown that a reduction in the amount of coinage did not lead to the demise of a market economy or civic status for Athens (Charanls 1955) or Asia Minor (Hendy 1985) 1n the seventh and eighth centuries AD. Even though there are fewer coins at Sardis after 616, there is no reason to suggest the entire municipal system collapsed in the seventh century. On a related Issue, Cormack (1981:113) provides some evidence for the continued existence and maintenance of ancient public municipal buildings In the EB period. In Afrodlslas and Thessalonlke the street system, agora, and city walls were maintained In their ancient forms. Indeed, the physical extent of both cities stayed the same (1981:106), a significant departure from Foss’ (1977) notion that all of the cities In western Asia Minor retracted behind shorter circuit walls due to political and economic Instability and a drop In population. Foss bases his argument on circumstantial evidence. He assumes a reduced area enclosed by walls 220 reflects a drop In population, which in turn is not large enough, he believes, to support various urban institutions. The evidence provided by Cormack suggests that this process of reduction in settlement size was not universal. Regional and even local variation Is evident. In addition to refurbishing the circuit walls, the Byzantines lavished careful maintenance throughout the EB period on the cathedral of Afrodisias and the Rotunda in Thessalonlke, two Important public buildings. A further example of such expenditures is the rebuilding of the fifth-century church of Agios Demetrlos in Thessalonlke after It burned down In the seventh century (Cormack 1981:113). Foss Is certainly correct in stating that Anatolia was ravaged by Persian and Arab invasions In the seventh century. The evidence, though, does not necessarily support his view that these incursions dealt cities In Asia Minor a death blow. In fact, some literary sources suggest a relatively rapid recovery in some areas. Trombley’s (1985b) examination of synodal lists reflects this phenomenon. Between 663 and 678, Arabs executed raids in Anatolia almost every year (Ostrogorsky 1969:111). Rather than traverse the great distances from Syria and Palestine to Anatolia on an annual basis, Arab forces would remain in Byzantine territory over the winter, giving the population no respite. This strategy placed both towns and the countryside In serious straits, with considerable destruction and dislocation of population (Ostrogorsky 1969:111). The synodal lists, however, suggest a rapid recovery, with the number of signatory bishops, representing towns, increasing from 152 for the Sixth Oecumenical Council (680-681) to 210 for the Quinisextum (691-692). 221 Isaurla witnessed an Increase from five to thirteen sees In this period, resulting In an upgrade In Its status from a chora (disorganized territory) to reclaiming a position as an eparchla (province). The significance of the bishoprics In Byzantine territory was considerable. The religious administrative structure was based on the urban model. The bishopric was In fact an important civic Institution In Late Antiquity and afterwards. Its continued existence In crisis periods can be viewed as an Indication of urban vitality. Ostrogorsky (1959) also used bishops' lists to elaborate on the issue of urban evolution in the EB period. Noting that Byzantine cities had Important differences with Classical poleis, he also pointed to significant similarities, especially the uninterrupted presence of a monetary economy. He contended changes In urban life had begun In the LR period. EB laws, however, Indicated the continued existence of a monetary economy from which he Inferred "...a developed urban life and a considerable number of towns" (Ostrogorsky 1959:65). He found further evidence of the survival of urban areas in the crisis period of the seventh century In the bishops' lists that mentioned many cities throughout Asia Minor. Important changes did occur In the urban milieu In Late Antiquity and the EB period. What Is argued against In the present study Is the perspective that views fundamental changes as the result of singular catastrophic events. Foss' (1972, 1975, 1976, 1979, 1983) arguments center on such an episode, the Persian and Arab invasions bringing Classical urbanism to an abrupt halt In Asia Minor, the heart of the Byzantine Empire. The model I propose is intermediate between that of 222 Foss and of adherents to the extreme continuity thesis that presents Byzantine history as part of an uninterrupted flow from Classical Hellas to modem Greece. The model adopted here suggests that Incremental, evolutionary change, in opposition to dramatic revolutionay developments, best characterizes the sequence. Changes do occur, but these begin earlier In many Instances without warranting a change In designation for the temporal category, I.e., from Roman to Medieval. Foss (1976:11-12) Is aware of such changes. He notes the effect of an outbreak of the bubonic plague that ravaged the Empire In A.D. 542-543, with recurrences for the next half century. The huge death toll depleted manpower resources for labor and the military. Revolts and brigandage ensued, requiring the appointment of blokolytes who suppressed the violence but subsequently abused the very people they had been assigned to protect. These events set the stage for the collapse to come, the Persians delivering the fatal blow, Foss believes. There may be another way of looking at these data. Archaeological evidence from Sardis, on which Foss hinges much of his argument, indicates the sixth century was the crucial period when forces were set into motion that had Important repurcusslons later. Already in that century, the regular maintenance of public roads by municipal officials was coming to an end. Public areas were being encroached upon for private use and one major avenue was used as a dump for domestic debris (Rautman 1985). The abandonment of parts of the ancient city, that Foss (1975) attributes to the seventh century, was already occurring as early as the fifth century due to the rapid accumulation of alluvial and colluvlal deposits (Rautman 1987). 223 Thus, environmental factors conspired with various social elements to alter the occupation of Sardis, and probably other sites as well. Yet, significant habitation continued for some time. I agree that urban life was clearly affected by these factors but stop far short of saying that social complexity was Irretrievably damaged by these events. It Is on the latter point that I disagree with Foss and other advocates of discontinuity.

ISTHMIA IN THE AEGEAN SETTING In the previous chapter, part of the discussion centered on the Integration of the Isthmian Fortress Into a local settlement scheme. I briefly explored the economic and strategic factors that defined the role of the Fortress as a settlement In the northeastern Korinthla. This effort at a basic regional synthesis provides the backdrop for further statements. Although some efforts at making the Fortress self-sufficient did occur, these attempts seem to have been directed at helping the installation withstand sieges or other periods of duress. The lack of some facilities, such as any recognizable ceramic kiln, suggests the garrison depended on local suppliers for certain items. It Is true that such a facility may have existed outside the Fortress walls In the vicinity of Isthmia, but no such feature has been Identified to date for the LR period. The garrison seems to have depended on the local procurement system to provide certain Important commodities. The presence of substantial amounts of Imported ceramics Indicates ties to a much broader economic sphere as well. In short, the Fortress did not exist In Isolation, as a singular kastron expected to meet all Its own needs. 224 At this rudimentary level, the evidence can suggest not simply a diverse array of settlements in the area, but a system with rather complex interrelationships. The precise nature of these connections may not have been the same In the second century AD. as compared to the fifth century AD., but complexity of organization seems to have persisted. Such a level of Integration was an Important aspect of the Classical polls system and, I suggest, of Aegean culture In the EB period. The fact that site use at Isthmla had certain foci at different times (I.e., ceremonial in early phases, military in later periods) should not obscure the fact that a variety of cultural activity occurred there In all periods. Since the needs of the Sanctuary and the Fortress In their respective periods could not be met exclusively by Inhabitants of the immediate vicinity, a larger sphere of interaction was brought Into play. This larger sphere Involved production, transport, and exchange of a wide range of goods consumed at the site. The factor of site control also played an Important part In determining the position of Isthmla In a regional settlement system. Activities In the ancient Sanctuary were regulated by civic officials 1n Korlnth. These officials were members of the urban political structure, which Included the boule or curia, the municipal governing assembly. The boule Is viewed by some scholars as one of the definitive characteristics of Classical civilization, and Its eventual disappearance Is taken to be symptomatic of a decline in complexity and the end of urban culture In the so-called Dark Ages from the sixth to eighth centuries A.D. (Kazhdan and Cutler 1982). That there was a shift In terms of urban administration Is widely accepted. This shift does not necessarily have to be equated with a decrease In social 225 complexity. The construction and use of the Isthmian Fortress In the fifth century, followed by rebuilding and reuse In the sixth century, reflect a strategic plan Implemented at the imperial level. The policy that directed the use of the Fortress was formulated at the highest levels of government and percolated down to the local level. The Fortress Is an overt manifestation of the operation of a highly complex system of administration. The role assigned the Fortress depended on a grand defensive scheme devised and executed by the Byzantine state. The construction technique used at the Fortress Is one Indicator of the large scale of planning Involved. The w alls of the Fortress and Hexamllion exhibit similarities to EB fortifications elsewhere. The emplekton technique employed at Isthmla and in fortifications throughout much of the Byzantine East required the regular Insertion of a header block after a series of stretcher blocks to create a strong bond between the ashlar facing and the rubble core. Stretcher blocks were laid with the long side following the direction of the wall, while the headers were positioned perpendicular to the line of the wall (Daly 1942; Tomlinson 1961). This technique was Hellenistic In origin and was used by Byzantine military engineers In Greece, Asia Minor, and Syria (Gregory ,ln Press). The use of rectangular towers In the Hexamllion and Fortress (except those flanking the two gates) Is characteristic of Byzantine fortifications of the fifth and sixth centuries, including those at Constantinople, Thessaloniki, Resafa, and Nikopol is (Winter 1971:203). Even the use of spolla In construction suggests a broader connection since the Theodoslan Code (I, 36) recommended this practice. Based on these similarities, 226 Gregory (In Press) argues the central government was largely responsible for the construction of the Hexamllion and Fortress. Private citizens were called on at times to contribute to such projects, but Gregory (In Press) argues the cost of the Hexamllion certainly exceeded local financial resources. The building techniques adopted at Isthmla In the Medieval fortifications reflect the uniform nature of such military construction in the Byzantine Empire. The regularity of the methods Implies centralized administration. As already mentioned above, Procopius (Buildings IV, 2, 1-28) offers literary evidence for such governmental control in his enumeration of the fortifications built or refurbished under Justinian In the Balkans. Certainly, then, In the fifth and sixth centuries the Imperial system was a complex bureaucracy that Implemented policies affecting all areas of the empire. This implementation occurred by means of collaboration with local authorities who shared the financial burden for Initial outlays and subsequent maintenance of public projects.

CONCLUSION The evidence from Isthmla tends to support a perspective Intermediate between the two poles of continuity and discontinuity, or what may be termed modified continuity. By the time the fortifications were constructed In the fifth century, the Sanctuary had ceased to function, a fact that can reflect an Important dlsjuncture setting off the Medieval from the ancient. Indications for continued participation in a complex system exist in the evidence for involvement In an international trade 227 network by occupants of the Fortress. In addition, the construction of the fortifications In itself speaks to this problem. The Hexamllion and Fortress are large scale public buildings requiring considerable skill In engineering, financing, military planning, and maintenance to erect, operate, and preserve. While the precise nature of construction at the site changed In this transitional phase from religious to military forms, both types constitute public structures. The needs of the local population and the central government dictated this shift In emphasis, Involving a process of conscious choice. In subsequent periods when use of the Fortress alternated between military and domestic use, the same process of decision-making was In effect. This process of selection occurred within the context of a society that possessed substantial social complexity, some of which was retained from the Classical polls and part of which grew out of responses to crises afflicting the Imperial system. Social complexity continued, but It was not exactly the same as that of the Classical polls. Adaptation to the new circumstances demanded alterations, but not necessarily to the detriment of complexity as a general phenomenon. A greater appreciation of this phenomenon will be gained when more Byzantine sites receive the attention they deserve. The treatment of the Isthmian Fortress In the present study Is one small step In that direction. CHAPTER VII CONCLUSIONS

METHODOLOGICAL CONCLUSIONS Based on the examination of data presented In Chapter IV, several general statem ents concerning the field methods can be made. Of the geophysical techniques, the magnetic and electrical methods proved to be moderately effective in outlining subsurface structures. The large amount of stone rubble and the presence of metal and of power lines disrupted the signals in certain locations. As a result, no single technique was Ideal for the entire enclosure. In terms of time and manpower, however, magnetometry proved to be the most effective method because a large area could be covered In a short period by three people. In addition, with magnetic readings - the removal of extraneous diurnal fluctuations and plotting of the corrected data can now be accomplished by a variety of computer programs. At Isthmia, the electrical techniques provided additional evidence for the presence of subsurface structural remains In the southeast section of the Fortress and thus supported the results of the magnetic survey. In one case (Structure 2), the electrical techniques provided a clearer Image than magnetometry. Because of signal distortion, the Interpretation of magnetic and electrical anomalies Is tenuous In areas of the Fortress where there are no above-ground walls to Indicate the 228 229 presence of structures. In general, the geophysical methods worked best in areas where soil depth, and thus distance to cultural target, was less than 1.5 m. The self-potential survey was an experimental effort in the use of an inexpensive geophysical technique. The small financial Investment for equipment Is outweighed by the slow pace In the field and the difficulty In pinpointing the source of self-potential anomalies. Although it is premature to dismiss this method In archaeological applications, the results of our survey suggest it may not be appropriate in a structurally complex site because of the inability to clearly discriminate between various targets. The lack of replicability of results must also be addressed before the self-potential approach can become a standard procedure in archaeological geophysical exploration. The surface collection formed the other major component of the fieldwork. The intensive and extensive nature of the surface survey provided the basts for assessing the character of the human occupation in the area of the Fortress at three levels. First, there is the chronological aspect. The diagnostic pottery, and to a lesser degree the coins and some of the worked stone blocks, provide temporal parameters for the occupation. Most of the diagnostic ceramics can be dated to a period of one or two centuries duration. The discussion of ceramic chronology In Chapter IV details the relationship of LR pottery to the date of the Fortress. The majority (N=884, 64.28) of the diagnostic pottery Is LR in date; a similar percentage of all other material is assumed to be LR in date as well. 230 Second, the spatial distribution of the artifacts Indicates the extent of site usage. Certain sections of the Fortress were occupied In all phases, while some areas, especially the northeast and northwest sectors, were used intensely only In the LR and LB periods. The Increased distribution In the LR and LB periods seems to reflect the main military occupations of the Fortress when all areas of the enclosure would have been utilized. The dumping of material also Influenced the artifact distribution. The large amount of fill brought Into the area during construction of the Fortress seems to have been concentrated largely In the east-central sector where the ground sloped down significantly toward the east. Discard of trash by site occupants was more widespread than the fill and may account for some of the dense concentrations of artifacts In the Fortress. Third, there Is a functional component to the surface artifacts. The different categories of material suggest domestic, storage, production, and transport contexts. The clustering of rooftlles, the largest single category, assists In locating structures and ceramic dumps. Some materials (e.g., LR fine ware, glass, tesserae) are markers of wealth differentiation In addition to their primary utilitarian functions; in the case of these materials, one can assess the social or symbolic function as well as the strictly utilitarian. The geophysical and surface surveys both supplement and complement each other. The two approaches examine different data sets but both have the goal of understanding the structural layout In the Fortress. The geophysical methods provide images of the various features while the surface collection acts to corroborate the presence of structures by 231 offering data on the nature of the artifacts associated with the buildings. The surface survey data are more flexible in this respect because the information can suggest the presence of structures where geophysical methods do not indicate such features. Furthermore, surface artifacts are indispensable in determining the date and function of the discovered features. At present, surface survey and excavation provide the "ground truth" against which Interpretations of geophysical anomalies must be compared.

ARCHAEOLOGICAL CONCLUSIONS The archaeological work in the Isthmian Fortress had as goals the delineation of structural features associated with the Medieval occupation of the site and the gathering of data to assist in understanding diachronic changes in site function. In addition, site formation processes were examined as part of the effort to interpret the archaeological record. Dealing with site formation processes first, Schiffer’s (1972, 1976, 1987) model is used as a starting point. His description of n-transforms and c-transforms is supplemented by additional factors of discard behavior. The processes of artifact deposition, construction and collapse of structures, reuse of artifacts and architectural members, accumulation of sediments, erosion, pastoral activities, and plowing have all contributed to the present state of the archaeological record and complicate the Interpretation of context. Nonetheless, these factors can be sorted out and assigned differential Impact. 232 At Isthmla, the roles of various natural and cultural factors associated with the accumulation and distribution of natural sediments, archaeological deposits, and artifacts fluctuated through time. Erosion may have carried away considerable amounts of pre-LR artifacts, thus underrepresenting the earlier phases In the surface artifact Inventory. The evidence of previous excavations, however, suggests the surface collection accurately reflects the intensity of occupation. Construction of the Fortress In the fifth century AD. minimized artifact displacement from erosion thereafter since the walls retained sediments effectively. A large amount of fill was dumped Into the east-central part of the enclosure to level the ground Inside the compound. This event may have contributed to the high mean density of artifacts In the Fortress, but most of the artifact concentration Is probably due to the Intensive military occupation of the compound In the LR and EB periods. The occupation of the Fortress by large military contingents alternated with small-scale domestic residence, the latter often concentrated along the periphery of the enclosure. Many of the structures in the Fortress fell into disrepair during periods of non-military use and probably contributed to the massive number of roof tiles found on the surface. The concentrations of rooftlles In various locations may represent In situ structural collapse or a series of trash dumps. The construction of blocking walls across the main gates and subsequent clogging of drainage outlets contributed to the accumulation of sediments that burled significant portions of the architecture. In addition, refuse disposal by inhabitants eventually filled up several towers. It Is not clear to what 233 degree trash discard occurred within the enclosure. There Is evidence for reuse, and thus displacement, of materials at various times. Construction of the Fortress Involved extensive use of spolla, much of which came from Sanctuary structures dismantled specifically for this purpose. Ceramics were commonly used as chinking In the rubble Interior of circuit walls and other structures. In addition, the Fortress was refurbished on a number of occasions; such activity probably required repositioning some blocks and replacing others. Since the size of the compound was never extended beyond its original size, the deposition of later materials was superimposed on the earlier material. With subsequent weathering, erosion, and plowing, artifacts from various periods have been brought to the surface. Because the filling episode associated with construction of the fortifications seems to have been restricted to the east-central part of the site and the soil Is relatively shallow elsewhere In the Fortress, the surface Inventory Is a credible reflection of artifact distribution In the stratlgraphlc components. Those periods with the most artifacts on the surface represent the times of most intense site usage. The use of structures within the Fortress also must be understood In terms of these formation processes. Structures are more likely to be reused than Individual artifacts, especially when the buildings are constructed of durable materials. Although many of the structures In the Fortress were reoccupied at various times, the period of interest In the present study Is the fifth and sixth centuries. Since the majority of the diagnostic surface artifacts date to the LR period, when the fortifications were constructed, the buildings within the Fortress are assumed to have 234 been most Intensively used In that phase. This Is a working hypothesis that will require excavation to verify. The descriptive aspect of the present study uses the geophysical and surface survey data to reconstruct the layout of the Fortress interior In the fifth and sixth centuries A.D. The extant walls In the enclosure Indicate the presence of six free-standing structures (see Figure 3). There are also a number of Isolated worked blocks; there is no way to determine if these pieces belong to the visible walls. The geophysical techniques aided In tracing out the size of some structures with visible remains. The best examples of this are Structures 1, 2 and 5 (see Figure 45). Geophysical methods proved unable to map out the configuration of the remaining known structures, but magnetometry did outline an anomaly of extremely high amplitude that may be a forge near Structure 4. The surface artifacts suggest the presence of subsurface structural remains in two ways, depending on the type of material examined. In several cases (e.g., Structure 1), concentrations of diagnostic pottery coincide with the Interior of geophysical structural anomalies, while the distribution of rooftlies shadows the anomaly. These phenomena may derive from differential functional and decay patterns of the two types of ceramics. In general, the results of the surface survey confirm the existence of the structures revealed by geophysics; the heavy concentration of material around Structure 6 suggests it was probably a large building even though magnetometry reveals little of this plan. In addition, the concentration of certain high-status objects, Including glass vessels, LR fine ware, tesserae, and revetment, 1n the center of the Fortress probably 235 pinpoints the location of the prlnclpla and officers' quarters. Certain specialized activities are Inferred from the presence of beehive fragments and slag In the southern half of the Fortress. A detailed discussion of the number, size, and function of Fortress buildings is presented In Chapter V. To briefly recapitulate, the evidence from visible walls and geophysics indicates the presence of at least six structures in the Fortress. The two large buildings In the southeast comer were probably barracks. Structure 5 with Its well-hewn blocks may have been part of the command complex. The function of the three other buildings with extant walls is difficult to ascertain. The surface artifacts confirm this figure of six structures, and augment It by suggesting Structure 6 was larger that the remaining wall Indicates. Furthermore, a large deposit of rooftlles between Towers 3 and 4 may reflect the existence of another barracks (Structure 8). Examination of North African Byzantine fortresses suggests barracks were often built against the circuit walls (Pringle 1981). This comparison is the basis for hypothesizing the existence of three other large barracks (Structures 7,9,10), for a total of ten buildings In the Fortress In the fifth and sixth centuries. There were probably more structures In the compound, but the field data do not permit further speculation. Some buildings may be obscured by the modern cemetery and church In the northern section of the Fortress. Based on available sleeping space In the ten buildings (see Table 4), the military population of the Fortress In the LR to EB periods was between 1200 and 2000 men, with 1700 a more likely upper limit under most circumstances. 236 The surface collection data also provide a basis for comparing the Fortress with other sites In Greece where similar Information was gathered. The extremely high mean artifact density In the Fortress Is probably due to the congested nature of military camps. Various dumping episodes may have also contributed to the total, but even If one-half of the inventory In the Fortress derived from such activity, the remaining density Is still significantly higher than anything recorded elsewhere In Greece. Military occupation of a site Is evidently of a different order of magnitude than civilian residence In terms of Intensity and compactness. Analysis of the geophysical and surface collection data from the Fortress offers the basis for a better understanding of the systemic context within which the Byzantine occupants of the site operated. In this manner, interpretative statements can be made that breathe life into the static archaeological record.

HISTORICAL CONCLUSIONS The historical component of the present study builds on the results of the archaeological fieldwork. The larger issue within which the archaeological data are framed concerns the nature of social change. Discontinuity and continuity have been presented In Chapter III as competing paradigms that have been used In the past to examine the transition from Late Antiquity to the EB period in the Aegean region. The matter Is not simply a semantic disagreement. Those who espouse discontinuity believe a fundamental cultural break occurred In this region a t some tim e between the fourth and seventh centuries. Some sholars who 237 follow this perspective see the watershed as a cataclysmic event due primarily to human action (e.g., Invasion) while others stress a more gradual, but no less definitive, separation occurring as the result of accumulated social and environmental problems. A unifying theme among all the discontinuity theorists Is agreement over the decline of urban life as constituted In the Classical polls. The adherents of continuity emphasize the perpetuation of many aspects of ancient society during this period of stress. The continuity theorists see cities maintaining a vital social, political, and economic role into the EB period and beyond. The major discontinuity theorists Include Foss and Kazhdan and Cutler, all three of whom concentrate on conditions In Anatolia. They all stress the deacay of city life. The Immediate cause of this decline for Foss (1975) Is the Persian Invasions of the seventh century, but Kazhdan and Cutler (1982) offer a gradualist, multl-varlate explanation. To summarize my previous criticisms, Kazhdan and Cutler assume that the Increase In rural territory signals the decline of cities and the impoverishment of Roman-Byzantlne society. Their approach assumes this process of decay is something new that creates a gap between Late Antiquity and Early Byzantium. However, such conditions had existed previously in Greece, and presumably in Asia Minor, without urban culture being devastated. There seems to be greater resilience In the system for absorbing a variety of shocks than some discontinuity theorists would accept. Furthermore, Kazhdan and Cutler describe ancient society In static term s and then compare this monolithic entity to Byzantine society. Considerable evidence suggests the polls system changed significantly during antiquity. For 238 example, the Greek city went from controlling its own foreign policy to surrendering that activity to Macedonia and eventually to Rome. The various civic institutions changed through time to address contemporary problems. In this light, the alterations of the fourth to seventh centuries do not necessarily constitute the dramatic break with the Classical past that discontinuity theorists envision. Changes occurred, but these were part of an ongoing process that was also in operation at a time (first to second centuries A.D.) when few would deny the viability of the polls system. Foss (1972, 1975, 1979) employs an impressive array of historical, archaeological and numismatic data to support the thesis that Late Antique urban life was terminated by the Persian invasions of the seventh century. Citing conditions In a variety of cities, but focusing on Sardis, Foss argues for an Irreversible decline in settlement size, the scale of public works, and the monetary economy. The small towns that emerge from the Dark Ages, he contends, bear little resemblance to the grand ancient cities. Foss’ position has been influential but can be faulted at several levels. First, the numismatic evidence he uses often lacks good stratigraphic provenience. There is also the factor of archaeological sampling that may be responsible for the discrepancies In numbers of coins In various periods, Including the dropoff in quantity after 615 that Foss argues is indicative of urban collapse. There are other studies (Charanis 1955; Hendy 1985) that suggest a reduction in coins did not signal the demise of a monetary economy in other Byzantine cities. A second problem area is the lack of Independent historical evidence for the destruction of Sardis by the 239 Persians. Third, Foss takes a uni-causal approach that does not consider alternate explanations for some phenomena. For example, Foss points to the failure to rebuild public structures in the seventh century as evidence of the financial and institutional weakness of Anatolian cities. There is evidence, however, that public construction continued in the EB period In various cities (Cormack 1981). In efforts to resolve this debate scholars on both sides have had recourse to archaeological as well as historical evidence. These efforts have focused largely on Anatolia. Isthmia provides a Greek setting for the examination of this problem of social change. Despite its lack of civic status, Isthmia has certain characteristics that make it an appropriate venue for determining how urban culture fared In the transitional phase under scrutiny. Both as a sanctuary and a fortress, Isthmia was an urban apparatus. In both manifestations it reflected and was sensitive to the shifting nuances of the larger society, some of whose important needs the site reflected. At no time could the site stand in Isolation. The Sanctuary was directed by Korinthian officials, who regulated the festivals, construction, and maintenance to enhance their personal status and that of their city. The Fortress was an important cog in imperial military strategy that covered all the Balkans. In many ways, Isthmia was always dependent on connections to a larger urban system for Its prosperity. If that larger system was disrupted and cities declined, as the discontinuity thesis holds, a site such as Isthmia should be among the first to suffer. As cities turned In upon themselves, halted the construction of large public projects and became isolated settlements, urban outliers such as Isthmia should 240 have felt the Impact of the changes. Isthmia should thus be as good or better than a city as a measure of urban vitality and the direction of social change during the period in question. An important aspect of the present study Is to assess how the data from Isthmia relate to the nature of social change In the Aegean region during the fourth through the seventh centuries. This Involves connecting the slte-speclflc data with the larger question of the fate of urban culture in Late Antiquity. As a Sanctuary, Isthmia reflected various aspects of the polls system. For example, the Sanctuary could not have functioned and prospered without the support of Korinth and various wealthy citizens who served as benefactors and overseers of the public works and festivals. These people invariably served In the boule. In addition, construction and maintenance required architects, a large talented labor pool, and a complex economic system capable of providing all the necessary materials and services. The social hierarchy, political structure and monetary economy that made this system possible were common to much of the Greek East. The Roman imperial provincial structure was superimposed over the polls system and allowed the cities to function much as they had before, except that the Roman state arrogated the handling of certain foreign affairs and demanded payment of taxes. The historical and archaeological evidence from Isthmia suggests the continuation of Important elements of this urban Imperial system in the EB period. Various contemporary historians, most notably Procopius, refer to the rebuilding of the Hexamilion and Fortress under the auspices of the imperial government as part of a larger plan for defending the southern 241 Balkans. The size and extent of the fortifications at Isthmia and the evidence for their Integration into a regional strategy strongly Indicate the continuation of the Imperial system, as It was constituted In Late Antiquity, Into the fifth and sixth centuries at least. Isthmia was Intimately tied Into this defensive network as witnessed by similarities In construction techniques used In the Fortress and Hexamillon with structures as far afield as Constantinople and Resafa. In addition, there Is evidence for a monetary economy In the period of transition in the form of coins and substantial amounts of Imported pottery collected during the surface survey. At present, there Is no way to know what role Korinthlan officials played in the administration of the Fortress but some of the financial burden may have been borne by locals (Gregory, In Press). The fortifications at Isthmia represent a massive public project and continuation of a phenomenon often treated as characteristic of urban culture In the region. As an urban outlier, Isthmia continued to serve a variety of functions, the key one now being defensive rather than ritual. Neither the Fortress nor the Sanctuary could have existed In Isolation. The complex social hierarchy that characterized Late Antiquity was also a feature of EB society. Social differentiation Is evident in the Fortress In the variety of prestige Items from the surface collection; these data Imply not just discrepancies In military rank but also In social station since it was the aristocratic officers who could afford such material. All of these Indicators point to certain crucial similarities In the social, political, and economic milieux at Isthmia In antiquity and the Medieval period. There are differences as well, but I believe the weight of the evidence compels 242 acceptance of a position viewing social complexity as a continuing feature at Isthmia, and perhaps In the Aegean area as a whole, throughout the period of transition. Obviously, the case of Isthmia by Itself does not settle the issue at a regional level, but It at least demonstrates the need to consider the range of possible variation.

A MODEL FOR SOCIAL CHANGE IN THE AEGEAN REGION Examination of the historical and archaeological evidence provided by exponents of discontinuity suggests that this perspective Is not an adequate explanation for what transpired in the Aegean region between the fourth and seventh centuries. Also unsatisfactory Is a simple version of continuity that sees a direct reflection of ancient Hellenic culture In Byzantine and modern Greek societies. This notion of continuity makes of the Byzantines little more than caretakers of the ancient legacy. What the present study emphasizes is continuity but with the Byzantines as active participants in retaining some key elements of Late Antique urban culture while altering other aspects to meet their particular needs. I have called this perspective modified continuity and It entails certain assumptions. Foremost is the notion that people are motivated by self-interest, I.e., they act to satisfy a set of perceived needs, material and nonmaterlal. This Is true of humans In all time periods and provides a common ground by which contemporary scholars can assess the actions of past peoples. Another underlying assumption Is the primacy of Infrastructural components (e.g., economics, practical political considerations of power) over superstructural ones (religion, ideology). In other words, the tenor of any 243 historical period is determined by the pragmatic, concrete considerations of the material world. Religion and other ideological components of social life are derivative from and not causative of human action. People manipulate symbolic systems, Including religion, to aid them In achieving certain desired ends. The cultural materialist perspective of Marvin Harris (1979) and the micro-economic principles of formalist economics (Homans 1958; Burling 1962) are the bases for these key assumptions. Appended to this materialist viewpoint Is a definition of culture as a flexible response system used by humans In the complex process of adapting to the physical and cultural environment. Culture is not a fixed, static set of rules that provides people with a blueprint for reacting to the world, but Is rather a dynamic information system that is constantly being changed by the people who tap and add to Its reservoir of knowledge. Culture is the adaptive strategy used by humans and, thus, changes as human needs and the environment change. This view of culture derives from cultural ecology (Moran 1982). Examining Isthmia 1n this fashion provides a necessary balance between the extreme continuity and discontinuity positions. The transition from Late Antiquity to Early Byzantine is only one phase of an ongoing process that Includes all of Greek history. When we talk of Classical antiquity or the Classical polls system, we often describe the phenomena at some arbitrary point In time and make that reference point characteristic of all periods. There were changes In urban culture all throughout antiquity and the alterations in the Aegean region and at Isthmia during the fourth to seventh centuries are extensions of this flux. 244 In the region as a whole, certain elements of that urban system were maintained while others were changed to accomodate the altered conditions of the period. At Isthmia these conditions translated Into an abandonment of the Sanctuary and the systematic dismantling of Its structures. The spolla were reused In the fortifications erected ca. 410-420 to answer the threat of barbarian Invasions. Some see this action as a fundamental shift In perspective that separates the Late Antique mindset, and thus the society that fostered It, from the Early Byzantine. I suggest that It was material conditions that dictated a shift In strategy. The changes in the physical aspects of the site reflect a change in the adaptive strategy of the area's occupants and the central government to enhance survival. Even this transition reflects a consistent pragmatic orientation. Although ritual behavior was Important at Isthmia from the founding of the Sanctuary down to the late fourth century A.D., a variety of other activities provided the foundation on which the religious, athletic, and theatrical events were based. Planning and execution of the various Sanctuary construction projects required considerable resources and skills In architectural design, financing, organizing labor, stone masonry, and a variety of other vocations. Maintenance of the facilities and festivals also required considerable administrative expertise and monetary outlay. The benefits of controlling the Sanctuary were, I suggest, primarily practical In providing such things as Income from gifts and visitors, and employment. The prestige associated with control of the Sanctuary also had a pragmatic component. The greater the reputation of the various festivals conducted at the site, I

245 the more ltkely that large crowds would attend and enrich Korinthlan coffers. The practical considerations entailed In this perspective are perhaps more evident In discussing the Fortress. The construction of the fortifications was an outgrowth of security concerns In a period of foreign Incursions. The need for defense was pressing. To expedite completion of the walls, ready sources of stone, such as the buildings of the Sanctuary, were used. The major rebuilding episodes In the sixth and fifteenth centuries reflect similar processes of decision-making based on practical considerations. Time, effort, and money were Invested to secure material benefits. The failure of these attempts to block Invaders does not obviate the rational, ends-orlented process In which the builders engaged. The seeming change In the character of the site from primarily religious to military In orientation can thus be viewed from the perspective of people acting to maximize their benefits at the minimum cost. As a Sanctuary, the site was falling to meet the immediate needs of people in the northeastern Korinthia In the fourth and fifth centuries A.D. The new challenges confronting them required a change In strategy which is reflected in construction of the fortifications. The max-min principle suggests use of prepared stone is more efficient than quarrying new blocks, and so the temples and other structures were mined to provide building material. While modern scholars may decry this destruction of architectural treasures and hurl invectives at the Byzantine perpetrators, the ancients had to make practical choices and acted In a rational manner. If the Sanctuary had not been so violated prior to the fifth century, it was 246 because the site served a practical function and residents saw It was In their interest to maintain the structures, or, after the cult place was abandoned, that there was nothing to be gained by destroying the buildings. As such, the Sanctuary buildings can be seen as idle assets that were put to use by the government when a particular need for them arose. The change that occurred at the site can be described as part of a series of activities that are understandable In such pragmatic terms. The historical transition to the Early Byzantine period is less one of discontinuity than continuity. The elements of change were carried out within the context of societal adjustments rather than total realignment. Another Important point in considering conditions at Isthmia during the period of change is the multi -dimensional nature of the site before and after the construction of the fortifications. In antiquity, cultural activity at Isthmia encompassed more than the rituals and festivals. The large West Cemetery and domestic quarters In the East Field and on Rachl attest to the presence of a sizable resident population. The dyeing facilities on Rachl demonstrate the presence of an Important commercial enterprise. As described above, the various festivals also had an important economic component. The nature of the road system made Isthmia an Important transportation node. After the construction of the Fortress In the fifth century many of these features remained important. The selection of Isthmia as the location of the Fortress undoubtedly had much to do with the site's command of the roads along the eastern part of the Isthmus. Occupation of the Fortress alternated between a military garrison and civilian residents from the fifth century on. The Fortress was an important 247 component In the local settlement system, both as a residential area and as a last refuge in periods of duress. A series of economic links certainly bound the Fortress garrison to the local community since the maximum contingent (ca. 1700 men) probably was not self-sufficient In terms of many Important commodities such as food and pottery. The Fortress and Sanctuary thus both exhibited a diverse array of activities even though they are often each identified with only one primary function. The nature of some of these activities changed In significant ways between the fourth and fifth centuries, but the site always supported a variety of human behavior. The size of the Byzantine Empire precludes any simple solution to the problem of understanding how that society adapted and changed through time. The data from Isthmia provide evidence for the importance of regional variation In providing loose parameters that allowed people leeway to make adjustments they deemed necessary under various conditions. In a general way, these data tend to support a revised form of the continuity perspective. Even If Classical urban culture was eclipsed in Anatolia, and the evidence Is by no means unequivocally In support of this Interpretation, the possibility of a different outcome in Greece must be entertained. As more Byzantine sites are examined, I believe that this phenomenon of regional variation within a general cultural context will become Increasingly apparent. Perhaps then Byzantine society will be seen as a dynamic successor to the ancient legacy, which It neither thoughtlessly cast aside nor followed In slavish mimicry, but rather adapted to Its own peculiar needs. We must not be deceived by certain 248 external changes into believing that people were fundamentally different. 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270 271

/Athens

Figure 1. Map of Greece showing location of Isthmia. MftTMtA

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Figure 2. Site Plan of the isthmian Sanctuary of Poseidon. 273

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Fiqure 3. Plan of the Fortress showing the location of extant Medieval wal1s . 27*1

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Figure Plan of Fortress showing area covered by magneto- metry in 1985 and 1986. 275

Figure 5. Dot-density image of magnetic readings in the Fortress. Contour interva 1=1 OnT, minimum reading=4**900 nT. Cemetery

Power Lines Road

Figure 6. Dot-density image of magnetic readings in the Fortress. Major anomalies indicated by Arabic numerals, modern features by letters. 277

18W 10W 26S ]26S

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Figure 7. Plan of extant Medieval walls in the southeastern corner of the Fortress. 30W 10W Figure 8. Dot-density image of magnetic readings in the southeast corner of the Fortress. Contour interval=2 nT. Area shown is 20x20 m. 279

Figure 9- Contour plot of 1985 magnetic readings in the Fortress. Contour intervai=2nT. 1 m si-", m m iitiifilm

Figure 10. Dot-density images of magnetic readings taken near the Roman Bath in 1986. a. Contour interval=20 nT. b. Contour interval=50 nT. Figure 11, Pot^-density images of magnetic readings taken near the eastern end of the Hexamilion in 1986, a, Contour interval=2 nT. b. Contour interval=3 nT. Each area shown is 10x15 m. 282

Figure 12. Area covered by electrical resistivity survey in the Fortress in 1985. 283

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Figure 13. Contour p lo t of ele c tric al re sistiv ity readings in the Fortress. Contour interval=50 ohm-m. 284

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Figure 14. Area covered by electrical resistance survey in the Fortress in 1985• 30W 10W

Figure 15. Contour plot of electrical resistance readings in the southeast part of the Fortress. Contour interval=50 ohms. 286

140N X140N

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Figure 16. Contour plot of electrical resistance readings in the churchyard. Contour interval=50 ohms. 287

5 OWl 50£i

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Figure,17, Location of self-potential profiles in the Fortress in 1986. i ]

0 .0 4 5 +

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30.0 32.0 34.0 36.0 38.0 40.0 N S Figure 18, $e]f^-potential profile of Line 1, 288 I i I

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Figure 21. Self-potential profile of Line 4. 291 dVI (mV) N -0.04 o: .o o • 0.00 0.04 - 0 f ie soig st o readings. of sets 3 showing 5 Line of Figure 22. Self-potential profile profile Self-potential 22. Figure 4 GRID s (_> O 10 12 dV3 CmV) dV3 CmV) dV2 CmV)dVI Iraverse 292

Rdgl-FP-CmV) 0. 3 .0 -0 - - 0.02 0.01 0 0.01 0.02 . 00 - 8 9 900 890 880 - - - rfl o Ln 6. Line of profile Figure 23. Self-potential Self-potential 23. Figure Time (min) Time dvi Rdql-FP-(mV) (mV) 293

23k

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Figure 2k. Comparison of f ir s t and third sets of se lf­ potential readings for Line 5. 295

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Figure 25. Comparison of second and third sets of s e lf ­ potential readings for Line 5. 296

0 + 5 ,6 0 0

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Extant

Figure 26. Area covered by surface survey in the Fortress in 1985 and 1986 . Figure.27, Three-dimensional representation of distribution of surface artifacts from 1985 collecti 298

Figure 28. Three-dimensional representation of distribu­ tion of surface artifacts from 1986 collection. Figure 29. Contour plot of surface artifact distribution from 1985 collection. I i

N 104

a

Figure 30. Contour plot of surface artifact distribution from 1986 collection. 300 301

50WI 5 OE,

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Figure 31. Distribution of Classical pottery in the Fortress, N=23. 302

\ ^ ~ V 1 6 '"--^ , cnuf J 50E;

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20 40m

Extant wal 1s —

50S 505

Figure 32. Distribution of Hellenistic (N=12) and Classical- Hellenistic (N=l8) pottery in the Fortress. 303

50N

20 40m Extant walls—

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Figure 33- Distribution of Early Roman pottery in the Fortress, N=161. 5 OWl

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Figure 34. Distribution of Late Roman pottery in the Fortress, N=884. 305

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Figure 35- Contour plot of Late Roman pottery distribution in the Fortress. Contour interval=2. 306

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Figure 36. Distribution of Late Roman pottery relative to geophysical anomalies and extant Medieval walls in the Fortress. Anomalies indicated by dotted lines and shaded areas. 307

/ O+-5}60 0 100E

f 100N

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Figure 37. Distribution of Slavic pottery in the Fortress, N=13• 308

16'" 5 OWj

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Figure 38. Distribution of Early Byzantine pottery in the Fortress, N=31• 309

5 0W|

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Figure 39- Distribution of Late Byzantine pottery in the Fortress, N=228. 310

rV-h5>600

r 100N

50N7

Extant wall s

Figure 1*0. Distribution of coins in the Fortress, N-3. 311

0+5,600 ^imooEI

r ioon

ZO 40m f Extant wall s —

Figure *tl. Distribution of beehive fragments (B, N=17). glass (G, N=22), water pipe (W, N=5) > slag (S, N=5), lamps (L, N=5), iron (I, N=1), bronze (BR, N=1), nail (N, N=1), kiln support (K, N=1), and waster (WS, N=1) in the Fortress. 31 2

'+ 5 ,6 0 0 100E

r ioon

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Figure k l . Distribution of Late Roman fine ware in the Fortress, N=80. 313

115 E 135 N >135 N

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Figure **3- Contour plot of rooftile distribution in the Fortress. Contour interval=5. • 5 OWl

100E

i ,i

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Figure 4**. Distribution of architectural stone in the Fortress. Marble (A), N=1/*0; revetment (o) , N=70} tesserae (o), N=13; cut stone (EJ , N=7. 315

50W]

f 100N

r~i 50N

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Figure k 5 • Plan of Fortress showing extant Medieval walls and reconstructed buildings (dotted lines and identified by numbers) for military occupation in Late Roman and Early Byzantine periods. TABLES

316 317

Table 1. Breakdown of material from 1985 surface collection. Sample unit sizel m2, sample interval 5 m north-south, 10 m east-west.

Tran 1 Tran 2 Tran 3 Tran 4 Tran 5 Tran 6 Total Tot. Squares 64 42 54 29 117 85 391 Material Ceramic Fine 28 2 0 0 6 0 36 Coarse 639 531 198 108 1176 527 3173 Body Sh. 643 501 191 105 1144 489 3073 Rim Sh. 9 13 2 1 13 15 53 Handle 12 15 4 2 22 14 69 Base 3 4 1 0 3 3 14 Diag. P 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 C 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 C-H 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 H 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 ER 7 3 0 0 1 0 11 LR 3 4 2 0 9 9 27 SL 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 EB 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 LB 2 8 2 0 10 7 29 EM 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 Tile 517 329 326 114 755 388 2429 Misc. Wat. Pipe 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Beehive 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 Lamp 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 W aster 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Kiln Sup. 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Brick 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Stone Tessera 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Marble 7 10 8 2 23 10 60 Revet. 9 6 2 1 10 3 31 Cut Block 0 0 0 2 5 0 7 Slate 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .318

Table 1 (continued)

Flaked. St. 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Ground St. 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 Misc. Mater. Coin 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 Iron 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Bronze 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Nall 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Slag 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Glass 1 3 0 0 0 0 4 1202 881 534 227 1976 923 5743 319

Table 2. Breakdown of material from 1986 surface collection. Sample unit size 1 m2, sample Interval 5 m north-south and east-west.

Tran 1 Tran 2 Tran 3 Tran 4 Tran 5 Tran 6 Total 'ot. Squares 122 172 198 77 32 124 725 Material Ceramic Fine 109 109 120 40 30 14 422 Coarse 1173 1957 2356 1015 470 388 7359 Body Sh. 1194 1921 2302 965 457 361 7200 Rim Sh. 36 71 87 56 23 22 295 Handle 40 54 61 24 15 14 208 Base 12 20 26 10 5 5 78 Diag. P 0 1 1 0 0 0 2 A 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 C 3 3 8 6 3 0 23 C-H 0 2 8 3 3 2 18 H 1 6 3 1 1 0 12 ER 39 48 48 17 8 1 161 LR 161 232 253 112 58 68 884 SL 2 3 2 0 5 1 13 EB 4 6 14 1 2 4 31 LB 29 50 82 26 24 ' 17 228 EM 0 1 1 0 2 0 4 Tile 2562 4937 4992 3242 1323 2073 19129 Misc. Wat. Pipe 0 2 3 0 0 0 5 Beehive 3 8 3 2 1 0 17 Lamp 2 2 1 0 0 0 5 Waster 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 Kiln Sup. 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 Brick 0 1 0 0 0 1 2 Lid 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 Stone Tessera 3 3 1 5 0 0 12 Marble 22 52 17 24 10 16 141 Revet. 1 0 12 20 2 3 38 320

• .Table 2 (continued)

Cut Block 1 7 3 1 0 2 14 Mortar 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 Slate 1 0 1 0 0 0 2 Flaked St. 0 3 3 1 0 3 10 Ground St. 2 3 1 0 0 0 6 Misc. Mater. Coin 0 0 2 1 0 0 3 Iron 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 Bronze 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 Nall 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 Slag 1 3 1 0 0 0 5 Glass 6 7 6 2 0 1 22 3887 7095 7525 4354 1837 .2501 27199 321

Table 3. Comparison of 1985 and 1986 surface collections.

1985 1986 % % % % Frequency of Tot of Diag Frequency of Tot. of Diag.

Tot. Squares 391 725 Highest Count 67 130 in 1 Square Lowest Count in 1 Square Total Artifacts 5743 27199 Tot. Density 14.69 art./m 2 37.51 art./m 2 Ceramic Fine Ware 36 0.63 422 1.57 Coarse Ware 3173 55.27 7359 27.13 Roof tiles 2429 42.29 19129 70.33 Diagnostics 69 1377 P 0 0 2 0.15 A 0 0 1 0.07 C 1 1.45 23 1.67 C-H 0 0 18 1.31 H 0 0 12 0.87 ER 11 15.94 161 11.69 LR 27 39.13 884 64.20 SL 0 0 13 0.94 EB 0 0 31 2.25 LB 29 42.03 228 16.56 EM 1 1.45 4 0.29 Mlscel. Marble 60 1.04 141 0.52 Revet. 31 0.54 38 0.14 Cut Block 7 0.12 14 0.05 Tessera 0 0 12 0.04 99.89 100 100.14 100 322

Table 4. Population estimates for the Isthmian Fortress in LR to EB period.

Structure Approximate Available Space No. of men Size mxm in m2 Naroll coeffic. Pringle coeffic. Total Floor1' Sleeeping** 10 m2 2.7 m2 1.8 m2 1 30x20 1200 500 120 185 278 2 30x20 1200 500 120 185 278 3 12x5 60 60 6 22 33 •o 4 5x5 25 0 0 0 0 5. 15x10 150 150 15 3 3 6 6x6 36 36 4 13 20 7 20x30 1200 500 120 185 278 8 20x30 1200 500 120 185 278 9 20x30 1200 500 120 185 278 .10 20x30 1200 500 120 185 278 7471 3246 748 1148 1724

‘Structures 1,2,7,8, 9 and 10 are assumed to have been two stories tall. Total floor space for these buildings is obtained by doubling the area from the dimensions indicated. Used in conjunction with Naroll coefficient.

“ Sleeping space includes only available area on the second story of Structures 1,2,7, 8,9 and 10. 100 m2 is subtracted to account for verandas and intervening walls. Used in conjunction with Pringle coefficients.