It is available online at https://doi.org/10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4

Table of contents

Foreword7

The Edict Issued by the Hittite King Ḫattušili III Concerning the Priesthood of the Goddess Ištar/Šaušga9

Stefano de Martino

The Hittite King as Administrator of the Land25

Giulia Torri

The King Tutḫaliya IV, the Eflatunpınar Monument, and the River of the Watery Abyss37

Maria Elena Balza

New ‘Excavations’ in the Pergamon-Museum and in the Gipsformerei of Berlin and New Elements for the Study of the Decorative Programme of Kammer B in Yazılıkaya53

Massimiliano Marazzi

The Administration of Sacred Time in Hittite Anatolia77

Francesco G. Barsacchi

The Court and Administration of Karkemish in the Late Bronze Age*93

Clelia Mora, Maria Elena Balza, Marco De Pietri

Philological Remarks on the Sealings from Empire Period of Karkemish127

Hasan Peker

Storage and Food Control in the ‘Amuq from the Late Bronze to the Iron Age: The Archaeological Evidence161

Marina Pucci

Rulership and the Gods: The Role of Cultic Institutions in the Late Bronze to Iron Age Transition in Anatolia and Northern Syria177

Lorenzo d’Alfonso, Nathan Lovejoy

Foreword

This volume originates from a research project that started a few years ago, which was funded within the PRIN program Writing Uses: Transmission of Knowledge, Administrative Practices and Political Control in Anatolian and Syro-Anatolian Polities in the 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE. The project involved ‘research units’ from different Italian universities (Torino, Pavia, Bologna, Firenze, Napoli - Suor Orsola Benincasa) and their work was designed in such a way that continuous interaction between the participants could be established, to exploit the different experiences and skills. The study of Hittite society from a social, administrative and economic point of view is especially difficult due to the lack of documentation relating to the private sphere, unlike other regions of the ancient Near East, where a large number of these type of documents is preserved. The complexity of the issues and the special documentary situation of ancient Anatolia therefore required frequent exchanges of ideas and proposals.

Given that since the beginning of 2020 it has been very difficult to implement this intense program of meetings and discussions, if not ‘remotely’ (but with less chance of externalization), we put forward the proposal of creating a collective volume which combines some of the results achieved by the different research units.

The title of this collective volume is taken from the second part of the title of the research project and it offers an updated picture of the different types of investigations – philological, historical and archaeological – about the Hittite and post-Hittite administration in Anatolia and Syria. Other publications related to this topic, the use of writings for administrative purposes, the problems connected with the disappearance of the cuneiform script in Anatolia at the end of the Bronze Age, or the revival of the Anatolian hieroglyphic script in south-central Anatolia during the Iron Age are published (or are in print) elsewhere by members of the different units.

Finally, we would like to thank Francesco Barsacchi and Marco De Pietri for their collaboration during the editing work.

Pavia - Firenze, August 30, 2022

Clelia Mora and Giulia Torri

The Edict Issued by the Hittite King Ḫattušili III Concerning the Priesthood of the Goddess Ištar/Šaušga

Stefano de Martino

Abstract: This essay presents an updated edition of the Hittite document KBo 6.29+. This text is a royal edict issued by Ḫattušili III and establishes that the sanctuary of the Goddess Šaušga will be exempted from any levies. The regulations concerning this sanctuary are preceded by a long introduction where the king relates his conflict with Urḫi-Teššob. This presentation can be compared with the narrative on this event that is documented in the ‘Apology.’

1. Introduction

The edict issued by the Hittite king Ḫattušili III on the priesthood of Ištar/Šaušga is documented in two manuscripts, namely KBo 6.29 + and KUB 21.5+. Although the findspot of the tablets KBo 6.29 and KUB 21.15 is unknown, we argue that these documents were originally kept in Temple 1 because the fragments KBo 50.56 and KBo 50.59, which join respectively KBo 6.29 and KUB 21.15, come from the area of this temple. Incidentally, the collection of tablets stored in Temple 1 also includes some manuscripts of the other edict that deals with the priesthood of Šaušga, the so-called ‘Apology,’ or ‘Autobiography’ (CTH 81.A, B, D, F, and G).

The tablet KUB 21.15+ omits a line in the first paragraph of the third column1 that is preserved in KBo 6.29, which contains some scribal errors as well. Hence, we argue that both tablets were copied from the lost original recension of the decree. Overall, the two manuscripts do not differ much, in contrast with the manuscripts of the ‘Apology,’ which survives in several tablets that show significant linguistic and orthographic differences.2

The edict KBo 6.29 attracted the attention of Albrecht Götze, who published the first two columns in his book Ḫattušiliš (1925). After five years this scholar published a complete edition of the text in his book Neue Bruchstücke zum grossen Text des Hattušiliš und den Paralleltexten (1930), where he could restore some damaged passages by means of the duplicate KUB 21.15. Although we owe Albert Götze a debt of thanks for this exemplary philological work, the discovery of the new joining fragments KBo 50.56 and 59 (a, b, c) requires an updated edition of this text, which is of great historical value.

The resolutions taken by Ḫattušili III in KBo 6.29 concern the priesthood of Šaušga of Šamuḫa, whose name is written with the Akkadogram IŠTAR, and the economic support given by the Hittite royal house to the sanctuary of the deity.

We share Imparati’s assumption (1995) that the issuing of the edict KBo 6.29+ preceded the composition of the ‘Apology;’3 in fact, in the latter document the king appoints his son Tutḫaliya as priest of Šaušga of Šamuḫa and eventually elevates him to the dignity of tuḫkanti. Instead, in KBo 6.29+ Ḫattušili III only establishes that one of his sons shall be priest of the deity, without mentioning any of them by name (see also ultra). Thus, we argue that KBo 6.29 was written when the children of Ḫattušili and Pudu-Ḫeba were little, and hence the royal couple could not yet decide which of them would merit being chosen for the priesthood of the patron deity of the king.

As the incipit documents, the edict KBo 6.29 was issued by Ḫattušili III, whose name is followed by his genealogy. This Hittite sovereign only mentions his father Muršili II, his grandfather Šuppiluliuma I,4 and his homonymous predecessor Ḫattušili I of Kuššara. Hence, here as well as in the other official documents issued by Ḫattušili III, the king aimed to inscribe his own name as the direct heir of his father by cancelling the names of Muwatalli II and Muršili III. Furthermore, the reference to his ancestor Ḫattušili I was intended to prove his affiliation to an old royal dynasty. The name of Pudu-Ḫeba occurs after the titles and genealogy of her husband, but the queen’s name is not present in other decrees issued by Ḫattušili III, such as KBo 6.28+ (de Martino in press b), KBo 4.12, KUB 26.58, and the ‘Apology,’ with the sole exception of KUB 21.17.5

2. The Content

2.1. Ḫattušili III’s Autobiography

A long introduction precedes the regulations on the priesthood of Šaušga and is divided into two parts. The first part deals with the youth of Ḫattušili, his marriage to Pudu-Ḫeba, and his appointment as ruler of Ḫakpiš during the reign of Muwatalli II, while the second one describes the reasons for his conflict with his nephew Muršili III.

Although the presentation of the events of Ḫattušili’s life in KBo 6.29+ and in the ‘Apology’ differs, and the latter is also much more detailed, both texts emphasise the protection and support that Šaušga of Šamuḫa offered to Ḫattušili. As is well known, in the ‘Apology’ the Hittite king states that his brother Muwatalli appeared in a dream to Muršili II and said that the health problems of Ḫattušili might be resolved by handing him over to the cult of Šaušga. But the account in KBo 6.29+ (i 6-16) simply relates that the deity requested prince Ḫattušili from his father.

KBo 6.29+ does not make any mention of the lawsuit with Arma-Tarḫunta that was judged by Muwatalli II and is described in detail in the ‘Apology,’ and it presents Ḫattušili’s wedding with Pudu-Ḫeba as the first significant event in his life (i 16-21). The ‘Apology’ explicitly states that Ḫattušili met with his future wife in Lawazantiya on his way back from Qadeš, where he had taken part in the struggle against the Egyptian army, while KBo 6.29 reports that Šaušga appeared in a dream to the Hittite prince and ordered him to marry Pudu-Ḫeba. Ḫattušili explicitly states that he did not marry her in the heat of passion, but at the command of the goddess (i 19-20). This statement aimed to legitimise Pudu-Ḫeba as the Great Queen of Ḫatti who had been destined by the goddess for this dignity.

Another important moment in Ḫattušili’s life was his appointment as priest of the Storm-god of Nerik in Ḫakpiš. It was Muwatalli II, his brother and king, who gave him the priesthood and the province of Ḫakpiš to rule. The territory under Ḫattušili’s authority comprehended the lands of Ištaḫara, Taraḫna, Ḫattena, and Ḫanḫana (ii 25-28).6 The same four lands are also mentioned in KBo 22.73 (+) KUB 21.11, and they are part of the kingdom of Ḫakpiš. According to Corti (2006), this text is a decree issued by Ḫattušili when he still ruled only Ḫakpiš. This decree documents that prince Ḫattušili reconquered and resettled the whole territory, winning the resistance of the Kaškean tribes. KBo 6.29+ i 28 adds that the border of Ḫattušili’s territory was the town of Kuruštama,7 a detail that does not occur in the ‘Apology’ (ii 57-60), even though it documents a much longer list of lands and towns belonging to the kingdom ruled by Ḫattušili.

Another passage in KBo 6.29+ (i 46) adds that the lands of Pala and Tummana were inside the kingdom of Ḫattušili, and they are also listed among his possessions in the ‘Apology’ (ii 59). The passage in KBo 6.29+ refers to the fact that Urḫi-Teššob took away from Ḫattušili all the regions that Muwatalli II had given him to rule. We argue that Pala and Tummana were not part of the territory assigned by Muwatalli II but were conquered by prince Ḫattušili himself in the years when he was king of Ḫakpiš.

The narrative in KBo 6.29+ briefly mentions Muwatalli II’s transfer of the capital to Tarḫuntašša, where the deities of Ḫatti, of Arinna, and of Kizzuwatna were brought. It does not make any reference to the transfer of either the statues or the remains (GIDIM) of the dead ancestors of the Hittite royal house, a detail that is mentioned in the ‘Apology’ (ii 52; Singer 2006).

2.2 The Conflict with Urḫi-Teššob

Ḫattušili III claims the merit of having supported Urḫi-Teššob and promoted him as the legitimate heir of Muwatalli II. This was not true; in fact, as is well known, Muwatalli II had already appointed Urḫi-Teššob to the position of tuḫkanti, as documented by the seal impressions discovered at Nişantepe.8

Ḫattušili III states in the ‘Apology’ (iii 41) as well as in KBo 6.29+ that he supported Urḫi-Teššub, who was the son of a secondary wife of Muwatalli II, because there was no other adult first-rank prince.9 The statement that Urḫi-Teššub was a prince of a lower rank (paḫḫurši-)10 is repeated in a passage of the treaty concluded by Tutḫaliya IV with Šaušga-muwa of Amurru (ii 28).11

Ḫattušili III also relates in the ‘Apology’ that he consigned the whole country of Ḫatti to his nephew Urḫi-Teššob (iii 42’-44’), retaining for himself only the government of the land of Ḫakpiš. According to the narrative in KBo 6.29+, the first act of Urḫi-Teššob, which created a rift between him and his uncle, was his abandonment of Tarḫuntašša and transfer of the capital to Ḫattuša. This does not mean that Ḫattušili was the ruler of the former capital,12 but presumably implied that Urḫi-Teššub could more directly control the activities of his uncle.

The description of the struggle between Urḫi-Teššob and Ḫattušili is much more detailed in the ‘Apology.’ In this text, the king states that his nephew took away from him all the lands that Muwatalli II had placed under his authority. Even the city of Nerik was taken away from Ḫattušili, though he was the priest of the Storm-god of this city. This was perceived as a sacrilegious act committed by Urḫi-Teššob. Muršili II, for example, had acted more cautiously when establishing the borders of the land of Mira after the rebellion of Mašḫuiluwa. According to the treaty concluded by Muršili II with Kupanta-Kutuntiya, the latter was not allowed to expand his territory into the region near and beyond the Šiyanta river. This restriction notwithstanding, the Hittite Great King left in the hands of Kupanta-Kuruntiya a sacred centre that was situated on the Šiyanta and had originally belonged to his predecessor Mašḫuiluwa.13 In this way, Muršili II hoped to avoid the anger of the gods that were venerated by the ruling family of Mira in the sanctuary of this town.

The main fault of Urḫi-Teššub was his progressive diminution of his uncle’s prestige, authority, and power. This accusation, including the verb tepnu- ‘to diminish,’ occurs in the ‘Apology’ (iii 59) and in KBo 6.29+ I 41, as well as in the loyalty oath imposed by Ḫattušili III on the people of Ḫatti (KUB 21.37 l. 20’).14 As we read in these three texts, Ḫattušili summoned the gods to judge his case (‘Apology’ iii 78-79; KUB 21.37 r. 35’), and hence the political contention between uncle and nephew became a legal contest to be assessed by the divine court of justice.15

The conflict between the two members of the royal family is presented by Ḫattušili III as an asymmetrical struggle because he was only the ruler of a small land, while Urḫi-Teššob was the Great King of Ḫatti. On the contrary, we argue that Ḫattušili had the advantage here, as he possessed corps of highly trained soldiers who had fought with him in northern Anatolia, while Urḫi-Teššub, who had no chance to lead the imperial army during his reign, did not have any military experience.

As Liverani (1990: 153-55) wrote concerning the administration of divine justice, ‘once the legal challenge has been formulated, events run toward the correct outcome. At times the signs of divine decision may be perceived before the final encounter.’ This was indeed the case in the struggle between Muršili II and Uḫḫa-zidi of Arzawa, as well as in the conflict between Ḫattušili III and Urḫi-Teššub; in fact, Šaušga caused an eclipse and an earthquake. This spectacular manifestation of divine protection, which is mentioned only in KBo 6.29+, predicted the ruin of Urḫi-Teššub and led his allies to join the side of Ḫattušili III. The ‘Apology’ describes a different and less dramatic intervention by Šaušga; the goddess appeared in a dream to Pudu-Ḫeba and reassured her of the eventual victory of Ḫattušili. The deity also appeared to the generals who had been dismissed by Urḫi-Teššub and encouraged them to take the side of Ḫattušili (iv 1-23).

The narrative differences between the ‘Apology’ and KBo 6.29+ are manifest as well in the account of the overthrow of Urḫi-Teššub. The former text states that Šaušga locked Urḫi-Teššub in the city of Šamuḫa like a pig in a sty (iv 25-26). Differently, in KBo 6.29+ we read that Urḫi-Teššub fled from Maraššantiya and went to Šamuḫa. Ḫattušili, on his way to Šamuḫa, welcomed the lords allied to Urḫi-Teššub, and his former followers offered to kill the king. But the Hittite prince refused and continued marching towards Šamuḫa. At this point, Šaušga again took action in support of his protégé and broke down the wooden wall of the city.16 Ḫattušili easily entered Šamuḫa and caught Urḫi-Teššub like a fish in a net.

This intervention of the deity, which is not mentioned in the ‘Apology,’ clearly is a fictitious element in the narrative. Nevertheless, we wonder whether the mention of wooden city walls guarding Šamuḫa may be accurate. The archaeological excavations at Kayalıpınar/Šamuḫa have discovered no monumental stone fortifications,17 and we cannot exclude that the city was indeed surrounded by a wooden palisade in some way similar to the one discovered at Hissarlık Höyük/Troy.18

2.3 Exemptions, Curses and Blessings

The upper portion of the reverse of KBo 6.29+ is not preserved, and this part of the text is also missing in the duplicate. As the first surviving lines in the third column state, the lands of Pala and Tummana, whoever among the royal princes might become their ruler, shall pay tribute to Šaušga. We infer from this provision that the son of Ḫattušili III, who would be appointed to the priesthood of Šaušga, also became the ruler of the northern region of Ḫatti and hence retraced the stages of his father’s career. The following lines are fragmentary, but they state that the priesthood of Šaušga shall only be conferred on Ḫattušili III’s male descendants, or, if the king has no living sons, on the husband of a royal princess.19

In addition, this decree establishes that the sanctuary of Šaušga shall be exempted from any levies and impositions.20 Thus, it shall be free from the šaḫḫan and luzzi levies and from the ILKU obligation to be given to the ‘Lord of the land,’ nor will it hand over any products of the estate belonging to the sanctuary, such as wood for the construction of chariots, firewood, cereals, grass, straw, and trained horses. This exemption implies that the estate of the goddess comprehended arable lands, pastures, and woodlands. Finally, the people working in the lands of the sanctuary of Šaušga were exempted from being recruited as auxiliary troops.21

The tablet ends with the curse formulas, which are fragmentary; only the first lines (iii 40’-43’) are preserved. The surviving lines in the fourth column state that those who do not contravene the word of the king shall have free access to the sanctuary of Šaušga and shall receive whatever they desire.

3. The Text22

A) KBo 6.29 + KBo 50.56 + KUB 23.127 + KUB 21.12 + KUB 1.1 (=2026b)

B) KUB 21.15 + KBo 50.59a + KBo 50.59b + KBo 50.59c (Groddek 2008: 48-51)

Obv.

i

1. A i 1. UM-MA DUTU-ŠI mḪa-at-tu-ši-li LUGAL GAL LUG[AL KU]R23 URUḪA-AT-TI

2. A i 2. DUMU mMur-ši-DINGIR-LIM LUGAL GAL LUGAL KUR URUḪA-AT-TI

3. A i 3. DUMU.DUMU-ŠU ŠA mŠu-up-pí-lu-li-u-ma LUGAL GAL LUGAL KUR URUḪA-AT-TI

4. A i 4. NUMUN ŠA mḪa-at-tu-ši-li LUGAL URUKu-uš-šar

5. A i 5. Ù A-MA-AT fPu-du-ḫé-pa MUNUS.LUGAL GAL-TI KUR URUḪA-AT-TI

6. A i 6. A-NA A-BU-YA-za mMur-ši-li EGIR-iš ⸤DUMU-aš e-šu-⸥un

7. A i 7. nu-mu kap-pí-in-pát DUMU-an DIŠTAR URUŠa-m[u-ḫ]a

8. A i 8. A-NA A-BU-YA ú-e-ek-ta nu-mu A-BU-YA [A-N]A DINGIR-LIM

9. A i 9. ÌR-an-ni pa-ra-a pé-eš-ta GIM-an-ma-za-kán ⸤ŠA⸥ DINGIR-LIM

10. A i 10. aš-šu-la-an uš-ki-iš-ki-u-wa-an te-eḫ-ḫu-un IŠ-TU DINGIR-LIM-mu

11. A i 11. pa-ra-a pa-ra-a SIG5-iš-kat-ta-ri nu-mu DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa

12. A i 12. GAŠAN-YA GIŠTUKUL pé-eš-ta ŠA A-BÉ-E-YA-mu24

13. A i 13. Ù ŠA ŠEŠ-YA ka-né-eš-šu-u-wa-ar pé-eš-ta

14. A i 14. am-mu-uk-ma-kán DINGIR-LUM GAM-an pít-ta-iš-ki-u-wa-an te-eḫ-ḫu-un

15. A i 15. nu-mu É-ir ku-it e-eš-ta nu-kán IŠ-TU É-YA

16. A i 16. DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa ḫa-an-ti-ya-nu-un fPu-du-ḫé-pa-aš-ma

17. A i 17. ⸤ŠA⸥ DIŠTAR URULa-wa-za-an-ti-ya GÉME!-aš25 DUMU.MUNUS mPé-en-ti-ib-LUGAL

18. A i 18. LÚSANGA DIŠTAR e-eš-ta nu-za a-pu-u-un-na

19. A i 19. AŠ⸤-ŠUM⸥ DAM-UT-TIM mar-ri Ú-UL da-aḫ-ḫu-un

20. A i 20. IŠ-TU INIM DINGIR-LIM -za-an da-aḫ-ḫu-un DINGIR-LIM-an-mu ⸤Ù-it⸥

21. A i 21. ḫé-en-ek-ta

22. A 22. GIM-an-ma A-BU-YA ku-wa-pí BA.ÚŠ ŠEŠ-YA-ma-za-kán

23. A i 23. mNIR.GÁL-iš A-NA GIŠGU.ZA A-BI-ŠÚ e-ša-at

24. A i 24. am-mu-uk-ma-aš-ši pé-ra-an KUR.KURMEŠ ma-ni-ya-aḫ-ḫe-eš-ki-nu-un

25. A i 25. nu-mu I-NA URUḪa-ak-piš-ša A-NA DU URUNe-ri-ik

26. A i 26. LÚSANGA i-ya-at nu-mu ⸤KUR URUḪa-⸥ak-piš-ša KUR URUIš-ta-ḫa-ra

27. A i 27. KUR URUTa-ra-aḫ-na KUR URUḪa-a[t-ti-n]a [KUR U]RUḪa-an-ḫa-na-ya

28. A i 28. pé-eš-ta nu-mu *ras.* URUKu-ru-uš[-ta-ma Z]AG-an i-ya-at

29. A i 29. nu-uš-ši ke-e KUR.KURMEŠ ḫu-u-ma-an[-da pí-r]a-an

30. A i 30. ma-ni-ya-aḫ-ḫe-eš-ki-nu-un26 ŠEŠ-YA-m[a (DINGIRMEŠ U)]RUḪat-ti DINGIRMEŠ URUTÚL-na

31. A i 31. DINGIRMEŠ GIŠERIN-aš ša-ra-a da-a-aš n[(a-aš I-N)]AURU DU-aš-ša

32. A i 32. pé-e-da-aš nu-za URU DU-ša-an27 šal-l[(i AŠ-R)]U i-ya-at

33. A i 33. nu DINGIRMEŠ a-pí-ya da-ni-nu-ut GI[(M-an-ma Š)]EŠ-YA BA.ÚŠ

34. A i 34. nu A-NA ŠEŠ-YA ku-it ŠA [(DAM-ŠU) ḫu-u-i-]ḫu-iš-šu-wa-li-iš

35. A i 35. DUMU-aš na-a-wí ku-iš-ki [(e-eš-ta A-N)]A ŠEŠ-YA

36. A i 36. na-ak-ki-ya-an-ni ḫ[(a-an-da-aš28 mU)r-ḫi-DU-ub-an š]a-ra-a

37. A i 37. da-aḫ-ḫu⸤-un⸥ na-a[(n A-NA) GIŠGU.ZA A-BI-ŠU (AŠ-ŠUM LUGAL-UT-TI)]

38. A i 38. te-eḫ-hu⸤-un⸥ [(mU)r-ḫi-DU-ub-aš-ma (DINGIRMEŠ URU DU-aš-ša-az ša-ra-a)]

39. A i 39. t[a-a(-aš na-aš EGIR-pa URUḪa-at-tu-ši ar-)nu-ut]29

40. B i 13’. ⸤am-mu-⸥uk-ma-aš me-na-aḫ-ḫa-an-da [ku-ru-ur e-eš-ta]30

41. B i 14’ ⸤nu-mu⸥ te-ep-nu-ma-an-zi ša-an-a[ḫ-ta]

42. B i 15’. nu-mu LÚ.MEŠMU-IR-TU4-TI ku-i-e-eš [ma-ni-ya-aḫ-ḫa-an-ni]31

43. B i 16’. ⸤pí-⸥ya-an-te-eš e-šer na-aš-mu-kán a[r-ḫa da-a-aš]

44. B i 17’. ⸤ÌR⸥an-ni-ya-mu ku-e KUR.KURMEŠ pí-ya-a[n e-šir]

45. B i 18’. nu-mu-kán a-pé-e-ya ar-ḫa da-at-ta/da-at-ta[-at]

46. B i 19’. ⸤nu-mu⸥ KUR URUPa-la-a KUR URUTu-ma-an-na d[a-at-ta(-at?)]

47. B i 20’. [nam-ma-(?)]mu ši-ya-it am-mu-u[k(-)

48. B i 21’. [ ] x x x [

…………………

49’. B ii 1’ a]r-ḫ[a

50’. B ii 2’ ]x-aš-ši k[u-

51’. B ii 3’ me-na-]aḫ⸤-ḫa-an-⸥[da] ku-ru-ri-ya-a[ḫ-ta

52’. B ii 4’ ]x ku⸤-ru-ri-⸥ya-aḫ-ḫu-un-wa-a[t-ta]

ii

1. A ii 1. nu-wa-za zi-ik LUGAL.GAL am-mu-uk-ma-wa-za LUGAL.TURRU

2. A ii. 2. nu-wa-an-na-aš e-ḫu A-NA DU EN-YA

3. A ii 3. Ù A-NA DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa GAŠAN-YA DI-eš-ni

4. A ii 4. ti-ya-u-e-ni nu-wa-za ma-a-an zi-ik DI-eš-na-za

5. A ii 5. ša-ra-az<-zi->iš nu-wa tu-uk ša-ra-az-zi-ya-aḫ-ḫa-an-du

6. A ii 6. ma-a-an-ma-wa-za am-mu-uk-ma DI-eš-na-za *ras*

7. A ii 7. ša-ra-az-zi-iš nu-wa am-mu-uk

8. A ii 8. ša-ra-az-zi-aḫ-ḫa-an-du

9. A ii 9 nu-wa A-NA DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa GAŠAN-YA ŠU-an

10. A ii 10. ša-ra-a e-ep-pu-un nu-mu DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa GAŠAN-YA

11. A ii 11. wa-ar-ri-iš-ši-iš-ta nu ša-ra-az-zi

12. A ii 12. kat-te-ir-ra-ya an-da :ma-ru-wa-a⸤-it⸥ nu ne⸤-pí-iš⸥

13. A ii 13. te-kán-na kat-kat-te-nu-ut nu-mu DIŠTAR URUŠa⸤-mu-ḫa⸥ [(GAŠAN-YA)]

14. A ii 14. EGIR-an ti-ya-at nu ḫa-at-ra-nu-un ku-e-da[(-aš KUR-)]e-aš

15. A. ii 15. EGIR-an-wa-mu ti-ya-at-tén na-at-mu EGIR-an ti⸤-i-e-⸥er

16. A ii 16. Ú-UL-ya ku-e-da-aš KUR-e-aš ḫa-at-ra-a-nu-un

17. A ii 17. nu ḫu-u-ma-an-pát am-me-e-ta-az ti-ya-at

18. A ii 18. a-pa-a-aš-ma GIM-an iš-ta-ma-aš-ta

19. A ii 19. na-aš-kán URUMa-ra-aš-ša-an-ti-ya-za ar-ḫa pár-aš-ta

20. A ii 20. na⸤-aš⸥ I-NA URUŠa-mu-ḫa an-da-an pa-it

21. A ii 21. am-mu-uk-ma-aš-ši EGIR-an-da pa-a-un GIM-an-ma

22. A ii 22. ⸤I-NA⸥ URUŠu-lu-up-pa ar-ḫu-un nu-uš-ši ENMEŠ ku-i-e-eš

23. A ii 23. EGIR-aš-ša UNMEŠ-uš kat-ta-an e-še-er

24. A ii 24. na-at-mu me-na-aḫ-ḫa-an-da ú-e-er nu-mu me-mi-er

25. A ii 25. pa-a-i-u-e-ni-wa-ra-an-kán ku-en-nu-um-mi32-e-ni

26. A ii 26. nu-wa-at-ta SAG.DU-an me-na-aḫ-ḫa-an-da

27. A ii 27. ú-tum-me-e-ni na-aš Ú-UL tar-na-aḫ-ḫu-un

28. A ii 28. na-an-kán Ú-UL ku-en-ner nu-uš-ši I-NA URUŠa-mu-ḫa

29. A ii 29. ú-ki-la kat-ta-an pa-a-un DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa-ma-za

30. A ii 30. GAŠAN-YA a-pí-ya-ya pa-ra-a ḫa-an-da-tar ti-ik-ku-u š-ša-nu-ut

31. A ii 31. nu-uš-ši kat-ta-an EGIR-an ku-e-da-ni me-e-ḫu-ni

32. A ii 32. ar-ḫu-un BÀD-eš-šar-ma ŠA IZ-ZI 4033 gi-pe-eš-šar

33. A ii 33. kat-ta ú-it a-pu-un-ma-kán DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa GAŠAN-YA

34. A ii 34. KU6-un GIM-an :ḫu-u-pa-la-za EGIR-pa iš-tap-ta

35. A ii 35. na-an iš-ḫi-ya-at na-an-mu pa-ra-a pé-eš-ta

36. A ii 36. na-an-kán kat-ta *eras.* ú-wa-te-nu-un

37. A ii 37. ⸤na-an-za-an-⸥kán a-pí-ya-ya ŠA ŠEŠ-YA

38. A ii. 38. [na-ak-ki-ya-]an-ni ḫa-an-da-aš da-aḫ-ḫu-un

39. A ii 39. [nu-uš-ši Ú-UL ku-i]t-ki i-ya-nu-un

40. A ii 40. [nu-mu DIŠTAR URUŠa-m]u-ḫa GAŠAN-YA ŠU-an e-ep-ta

41. A ii 41. [ šal-l]a-i34 pé-di

42. A ii 42. [ ] x

Rev.

iii

1’. A iii 1’. [ -an]⸤-na KUR URU⸥35[

2’. A iii 2’. KUR UR]UPa-la-a KUR URUTum[-ma-an-na]

3’. A iii 3’. [ku-e-da-n]i A-NA DUMU.NI[TA pé-]eḫ-ḫi ma-a-an A-NA L[Útuḫkanti (??)]36

4’. A iii 4’. ⸤ma-a-an⸥ da-me-e-da-ni ku-e-da-ni-ik-ki

5’. A iii 5’. ⸤A-⸥NA DUMU.NITA na-at A-NA DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa GAŠAN-Y[A]

6’. A iii 6’. :ar-kam-ma-na-al-la-a-ú-i nu-uš-ma-aš-kán ku-i[n]

7’. A iii 7’. ar-kam-ma-an ša-ra-a e-ep-mi

8’. A iii 8’. na-an A-NA DIŠTAR URUŠa[-m]u-ḫa GAŠAN-YA pé-e ḫar-⸤kán-zi⸥

9’. A iii 9’. nu ku-u-un ku-in DUMU-an AŠ-Š[UM LÚS(AN)]G A-UT-TIM

10’. A iii 10’. É-er-ra A-NA DIŠTAR [URUŠa-m]u-ḫa ÌR-an-ni [pé-eḫ-ḫu-]un37

11’. A iii 11’. na-at kat-ta DUMU-ŠÚ DUMU[.DU(MU-ŠU! ḫa-aš-)š]a ḫa-an-za-aš⸤-ša⸥ [ ]

12’. A iii 12’. am-me-el NUMUN-an-za *eras.* [LÚSAN(GA-U)]T-TA [ ]

13’. A iii 13’. A-NA DIŠTAR URUŠ[a-m]u-ḫa ⸤ḫar-du-pát ma-a-an [ ]x

14’. A iii 14’. [DUMU-Y]A DUMU.DUMU-YA ḫa-a[š-š]a ḫa-an⸤-za-⸥aš-ša-an an[-ze-el (?)]

15’. A iii 15’. [NUMUN Š]A ⸤DUMU.NITA Ú-UL⸥ [k]u-it-ki LÚSANGA-UT-TA [ ]

16’. A iii 16’. [A-N]A DIŠTAR URUŠ[a-m]u-ḫa ŠA DUMU.MUNUS-YA x!38 ḪA[-DA-NU ḫ]a-an-ti-iš (??)39

17’. A iii 17’. ḫar-du-pát da-a-ma-iš-ma-at NUMUN-an-za le-e e⸤-ep-zi⸥

18’. A iii 18’. DINGIRLUM da-me-el ⸤NUMUN-⸥aš pé-ra⸤-an⸥ EGIR-pa le-e

19’. A iii 19’. tar-na-a-i É-er-ra ku-it ⸤ŠA⸥ DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa

20’. A iii 20’. na-at-kán ⸤ša-aḫ-ḫa-⸥za [lu-u]z-zi⸤-ya-za⸥

21’. A iii 21’. ŠA EN KURTI E[L-KI] (?) ⸤ŠA⸥ (?) [ UD]U IGI.DU8.A UDUku-ut-ri

22’. A iii 22’. GIŠŠÀ.KAL-az GIŠB[U-BU-TI] GIŠwa-ar-ša-am-ma-za

23’. A iii 23’. IŠ-TU ŠE Ú IN.NU[.DA IŠ-TU IṢ-ṢI/ṢU40] ḫar-pa-al-li-ya-aš

24’. A iii 24’. ANŠE.KUR.RAMEŠ wa-ḫa-an-na-a[š ú-e-t]um-ma-za!41

25’. A iii 25’. IŠ-TU ÉRINMEŠ ⸤NA-⸥RA-R[I da-pí-a]n-da-za42 a-ra⸤-wa-aḫ-ḫa-an⸥

26’. A iii 26’. e-eš-du n[u-ká]n A-N[A DIŠTAR UR]UŠa-mu-⸤ḫa⸥

27’. A iii 27’. ⸤ša-aḫ-ḫa-ni⸥ lu-uz-z[i-ya l]e-e ku⸤-iš-⸥ki

28’. A iii 28’. ⸤ti-⸥ya-az-z[i ]

29’. A. iii 29’. UDU LÚMÁŠ.GAL ŠA DU[TU URUPÚ-na ku-i]š ar-kam-ma-aš

30’. A. iii 30’. na-an-kán A-NA DUTU URU[PÚ-na ar-ḫa-p]át pé-eš-ši-ya-nu-un

31’. A. iii. 31’. nu IŠ-TU 10 É ti[-it-ta-nu-wa-an-z]i

32’. A iii 32’. DUMU.NITA ku-in [A-NA] DIŠTAR URUŠa⸤-mu⸥<-ḫa>

33’. A iii 33’. AŠ-ŠUM LÚSANGA-UT[-TIM ] ti-it-ta<nu->mi43

34’. A iii 34’. nu-uš-ši ki-i ku⸤-it⸥ É-ir ka-ru-ú⸥ <ú->da-an

35’. A iii 35’. ma-a-an-na-aš-ši ⸤EGIR-⸥an-da DUTUŠI

36’. A iii 36’. IŠ-TU NAM.RAMEŠ pé-eḫ-ḫi na-aš-ma⸤-kán (?)⸥ IŠ-TU *eras.* EL-LI

37’. A iii 37’. pé-eḫ-ḫi na-aš-ma Ú-NU-TUM na-aš-ma TÚG-UŠ-TUM

38’. A iii 38’. pé-eḫ-ḫi nu⸤-uš-⸥ši ma-a-an L[Ú-aš ku-i]š-ki

39’. A iii 39’. ú-wa-a-i ⸤pé-e-da-⸥[i nu LÚSANGA-UT-TA (?)44] ar-ḫa da-an-na

40’. A iii 40’. ša-an-aḫ-zi

41’. A iii 41’. ku-iš-ma ŠA DUMU-YA [DUMU.DUMU-YA ḫa-aš-ša] ḫa-an-za-aš-ša

42’. A iii 42’. LÚSANGA-UT-TA ŠA D[IŠTAR] URUŠa-mu-ḫa

43’. A iii 43’. ⸤ḫu-ul-la-a-⸥i nu da-me-e[l] NUMUN-aš

iv.

1’. B iv 1’. kat-ta x[

2’. B iv 2’. mi-ya-tar [ ] x x [

3’. B iv 3’. :u-ša-an da-at-[ta(-)

4’. B. iv 4’. IGIḪI.A kat-ta i-ya-at/d-x[

5’. B. iv 5’. tar-ḫu-i-li-iš!45 DIŠTAR URUŠa-m[u-ḫa

6’. B. iv 6’. ku-iš-ma ke-e A-WA-TEMEŠ pa-aḫ-ša-ri [ ]

7’. B iv 7’. nu DUMU-YA DUMU.DUMU-YA ḫa-aš⸤-ša⸥ ḫa-an-za-aš-ša

8’. B iv 8’. [ka]t-ta NUMUN-YA46 IŠ-TU LÚSANGA-UT-TI

9’. B iv 9’. ⸤ŠA⸥ DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa Ú-UL ti-i[d-da-nu-zi]47

10’. B iv 10’. É-ir-ma ša-aḫ-ḫa-ni

11’. B iv 11’. lu-uz-zi Ú-UL ti-id-da-nu-zi

12’. B iv 12’. na-an-za-an DIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫa GAŠAN-YA

13’. B iv 13’. pí-ra-an EGIR-pa tar-na-a-ú

14’. B iv 14’. nu-uš-ši-kán NINDA.KUR4.RA iš-pa-an-du-zi

15’. B iv 15’. ŠU-az ar-ḫa da-a-ú KUR.KURMEŠ⸤ -ma-aš-ši⸥

16’ B. iv 16’. IŠ-TU DUMU A-MI-LU-UT-TI-ya48 i[š-

17’. B. iv 17’. nu-za-kán ŠA LUGAL GIŠku-ra-k[i-iš (?)

18’. B iv 18’. aš-šu-li ḫa-aš-ši[-ik-du]

Obv.

i

1.Thus, His Majesty Ḫattušili, Great King, ki[ng of] Ḫatti,

2. son of Muršili, Great King, king of Ḫatti,

3. grandson of Šuppiluliuma, Great King, king of Ḫatti,

4. descendant of Ḫattušili king of Kuššar,

5. and (this is the) word of Pudu-Ḫeba, Great Queen of Ḫatti.

6. I was the youngest son of my father Muršili,

7. and Šaušga of Šamu[ḫa] requested me, (while still) a little child,

8. from my father, and my father

9. handed me over to the service for the goddess, and as soon as

10. I began seeing the deity’s favour, thanks to the goddess

11. my circumstances got better and better,49 and Šaušga of Šamuḫa,

12. my Lady, gave me the means,

13. and she also gave me the recognition of my father and my brother,

14. I began fleeing (for protection) to the goddess,

15. and the property that I had, with my property

16. I took care of Šaušga of Šamuḫa. Pudu-Ḫeba,

17. a servant of Ištar of Lawazantiya, was the daughter of Pendib-Šarri,

18. the priest of Šaušga, and

19. I did not take precisely50 her in marriage in the heat of passion,

20. I took her at the command of the goddess. The goddess

21. assigned her to me in a dream.51

22. And as soon as my father died, my brother

23. Muwatalli sat on the throne of his father,

24. but I started administering the lands for him,

25. and he (= Muwatalli) made me priest for the Stormgod of Nerik in the city of Ḫakpiš,

26. and gave me the land of Ḫakpiš, the land of Ištaḫara,

27. the land of Taraḫna, the land of Ḫa[tten]a, and [the land of] Ḫanḫana,

28. and established the [bou]ndary for me at Kuruš[tama,

29. and I continued to administer all these land[s fo]r him.

30. And when my brother took up the deities of Ḫatti, the deities of Arinna,

31. (and) the deities of (the land of) the cedar (=Kizzuwatna),52 he carried them to Tarḫuntašša,

32. and made the city Tarḫuntašša his great place (= capital),

33. and set the deities there. But when my brother died,

34.-35. since my brother did not yet have any [ad]ult53 son of his wife,

36. I took up Ur[ḫi-Teššob] for the (sake of my) esteem for my brother54

37. and I placed him in kingship [on the throne of his father],

38. but Ur[ḫi-Teššob] took up the deities from Tarḫuntašša

39’ and transfer[red] them to Hattuša.

40. And he [was hostile] towards me,

41. and tri[ed] to diminish me,

42.-43. and [he took] aw[ay from] me the subjects who had been given to me,

44. and the lands which [had been] given to me in subjection

45. he took even them away from me,

46. and he t[ook] the land of Pala, the land of Tummana from me,

47. [furthermore (?)] he pressed (?) me55 [

48. [ ] . . . [

…………….

49’ a]wa[y

50’ ] . . . [

51’ agai]nst bec[ame] hostile [

52’ ] . : “I waged war against y[ou

ii

1. You (are) a great king while I (am) a small king,56

2.-3. and come, let us go to trial before the Storm-god, my Lord, and Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady,

4.-5 thus, if you (are) the winner in the litigation, let them declare you as the winner,

6. if, however, I (am) the winner in the litigation,

7.-8. let them declare me as the winner.

9. I held up my hand to Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady,

10. and Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady,

11. helped me and

12. she blackened57 (the sky) above and below,

13. she even shook heaven and earth and Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady,

14. took my side, and all the lands to which I wrote:

15. ‘Let you take my side!,’ they took my side,

16. also the lands to which I did not write,

17. precisely all of them were on my side.

18. And as soon as he (= Urḫi-Teššob) heard it,

19. he fled from Maraššantiya

20. and went into Šamuḫa.

21. I pursued him, but as soon as

22. I came to Šuluppa, the lords

23. and the lower rank58 men who were with him

24. came in front of me and said:

25. ‘We will go and kill him

26. and we will bring (his) head to you.’

27. I did not allow them (to do it),

28. thus they did not kill him, instead

29’ I went myself to him in Šamuḫa, and Šaušga of Šamuḫa,

30’ may Lady, also there shew (her) providence,

31’. and right at the time when

32. I reached him, the wooden wall (of the city)

33. came down over 40 gipessar, hence Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady,

34. shut him up like a fish (caught) with a net,59

35. and she bound him and handed him over to me

36. and I brought him down (with me),

37.-38. and even on that occasion, for the (sake of my) [este]em for my brother, I captured him

39. but I did [not] do [an]ything [to him]

40. [And Šaušga of Šam]uḫa, my Lady, took [my] hand

41. [ in the gre]at(est) position

iii

1’. ] . the land of [

2’.-3’. [ ] to any son to [whom] I’ll [gi]ve the land of Pala (and) the land of Tummana, either the [tuḫkanti (??)],

4’. or any other

5’.-6’. son, I’ll make them (= these lands) tribute-bearing to Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady, and

7’. any tribute that I’ll take from them,

8’ it shall be given to Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady.

9’. Thus, this son whom for the office of [priest],

10’. with60 the household (which) I [gav]e to serve Šaušga of Šamuḫa,

11’. his son, [his grand]son, [(all his) pr]ogeny,

12’.-13’. my seed, shall keep holding the office of [priest] of Šaušga of Š[am]uḫa, if [ ].

14’. there is no [son] of [mi]ne, grandson of mine, (any) progeny (who is)

15’. o[ur] seed in the male line,

16’. [his fore]most son in law (?)61 shall keep holding the office of priest of Šaušga of Š[am]uḫa,

17’. and let no other descendant take it,

18’. may the deity not allow (one) of another seed free access (to her),62

19’. and the household which (is) of Šaušga of Šamuḫa

20’. from the šaḫḫan and [lu]zzi levies

21’. from the ILKU-obligation (in favour of) the ‘Lord of the land,’ from (?) [ ] the provision of she]ep, kutri-sheep,

22’. wo[od] for chariots (?),63 from firewood,

23’. from cereals, grass, stra[w, from wood] for wooden piles,

24’. trained horses,64 from [construct]ion works,

25’. from auxiliary troops, from all (impositions) (shall be) freed,

26’-28’. and let no one appear befo[re Šaušga] of Šamuḫa for (any imposition of) šaḫḫan and luzzi.65

29’. The sheep, [wh]ich is the tribute of the goat-herd for the Sungod[des of Arinna],

30’. I have given it up for the Sungoddess of [Arinna],

31’. and it shall be t[aken] from ten households.

32’.-33’. The son whom I appoint [to] the office of priest of Šaušga of Šamuḫa

34’. and this household that (has) already (be) furnished to him,

35’. if afterwards I, the Majesty, give him

36’. (some subjects taken either) from the deportees or from the free-men,

37’. or I give either equipment or clothing,

38’-39’ if s[ome]one cause[s] difficulties to him [and] tries to take away the office of priest]

40’.-42’. whoever opposes (the claim) of my son, [grandson, my all] (my) [pro]geny,

to the office of priest of Š[aušga] of Šamuḫa

43’ and (someone) of another seed [to the office of priest of Šaušga …..]66

iv

1’.-4’. Fragmentary

5’ the power of Šaušga of Šam[uḫa

6’. But67 whoever keeps these words

7’.-9’. and does not re[move] my son, my grandson, all (my) progeny, my seed, from the office of priest of Šaušga of Šamuḫa,

10’.-11’. and does not make the household (of the goddess) stand (liable) for šaḫḫan and luzzi,68

12’. may Šaušga of Šamuḫa, my Lady,

13’. allow him free (cultic) access,

14’.-15’. and may she accept from (his) hand bread and libations,69 the lands to him

16’. from (any) human being .[

17’. and a col[umn] (?) for the king [

18’. he [shall] be satisfied with (any possible) good

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Kühne C., Otten H. 1971, Der Šaušgamuwa-Vertrag, Studien zu den Boğazköy-Texten 16, Wiesbaden, Harrassowitz.

Liverani M. 1990, Prestige and Interest: International Relations in the Near East ca. 1600-1100 B.C., History of the Ancient Near East Studies 1, Padova, Sargon.

Mouton A. 2007, Rêves hittites, Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 28, Leiden – Boston, Brill.

Oettinger N. 2006, Pronominaladjektive in frühen indogermanischen Sprachen, in R. Bombi, G. Cifoletti, F. Fusco, L. Innocente, V. Orioles (eds), Studi Linguistici in onore di Roberto Gusmani, Alessandria, Edizioni dell’Orso: 1327-1335.

Otten H. 1981, Die Apologie Hattusilis III, Studien zu den Boğazköy-Texten 24, Wiesbaden, Harrassowitz.

Otten H., Rüster Chr. 1973, Textanschlüsse von Boğazköy-Tafeln (21-30), Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und verwandte Gebiete 63: 83-91.

Schachner A. 2022, Building for king and Country: Architecture as a Symbol of the Hittite Empire, in S. de Martino (ed.), Handbook Hittite Empire, Empires through the Ages in Global Perspective 1, Berlin – Boston, De Gruyter: 421-466.

Singer I. 2001, The Fate of Hattusa during the Period of Tarhuntassa’s Supremacy, in Th. Richter, D. Prechel, J. Klinger (eds), Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalische Studien für Volkert Haas zum 65. Geburtstag, Saarbrücken, Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag: 395-403.

Singer I. 2002, Danuḫepa and Kurunta, in S. de Martino, F. Pecchioli Daddi (eds), Anatolia Antica. Studi in memoria di Fiorella Imparati, Eothen 11, Firenze, LoGisma: 739-751.

Singer I. 2006, The failed reforms of Akhenaten and Muwatalli, British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan 6: 37-58.

Weeden M. 2011, Hittite Logograms and Hittite Scholarship, Studien zu den Boğazköy-Texten 54, Wiesbaden, Harrassowitz.

1 See Groddek 2008: 50 n. 49.

2 See Klinger 2022: 141.

3 Differently, see Beckman 2016: 72.

4 See Klinger 2017: 71.

5 See de Martino in press a.

6 On these place names see Corti 2017: 220-224.

7 Kryszeń (2016: 177) argued that Ḫanḫana was the westernmost region of Ḫattušili’s reign, and that Kuruštama lay instead on its southern border.

8 See Hawkins 2001; Herbordt 2005: 278. For a critical analysis of the narrative in KBo 6.29, see now Gilan 2022.

9 See n. 53.

10 See CHD P: 17.

11 See Kühne, Otten 1971: 10-11; Beckman 1999: 105.

12 See Singer 2001.

13 See Beckman 1999: 76.

14 See Archi 1971: 203-208; Giorgieri 2020: 159-160.

15 See Liverani 1990: 155-156.

16 See Gilan 2019: 33.

17 See Schachner 2022: 444.

18 See Jablonka 2006: 172-174.

19 See n. 39.

20 See Imparati (1974: 148-170) for a comparison of the exemptions established in the decrees KBo 6.28+, KBo 6.29+ and KUB 26.50+.

21 On the NARĀRU-troops see Beal 1992: 56-71.

22 I am grateful to H. Craig Melchert for his precious comments on some passages of this text.

23 See Groddek 2008: 48.

24 See Weeden 2011: 137 n. 595.

25 Differently, Mouton 2007: 92: GÉMELIM!.

26 B i 1’: [ma-ni-y]a-aḫ-ḫi-iš[-ki-nu-un.

27 B i 4’: URU DU-aš-ša-an.

28 B i 8’: the gloss wedge comes before the word ḫa-an-da-aš.

29 Götze (1930: 46) argued that the word pé-e-da-aš may be restored in the gap, but the sign AR is now readable in the fragment KBo 50.59a i 12’ that joins KUB 21.15.

30 See CHD L-N 3: 277.

31 See Götze 1930: 46.

32 B ii 26’: -me-.

33 So Weeden 2011: 182.

34 We may confront this passage with Ḫattušili III’s ‘Apology’ iv 65, Otten 1981: 28.

35 See Götze 1930: 48

36 In the duplicate text a line seems to have been omitted here, see Groddek 2008: 50 n. 149.

37 The restoration follows the passage in the ‘Apology’ iv 76-76; instead Groddek (2008: 51) restores [te-eḫ-ḫ ]u-un in the duplicate text.

38 A vertical wedge seems visible (see Götze 1930: 48), but the tablet is badly damaged here.

39 A possible logical restoration might be ḫa-a[n-te-ez-zi-ya-aš LÚan-t]i-an-ti-iš, but the space in the gap does not seem to contain the word ḫantezziyaš. Furthermore, there is no evidence that LÚantiyant- ever became an i-stem. We owe H. Craig Melchert for the restoration that we propose in this damaged passage.

40 See KUB 26.58 obv. 11; see HW2 III Ḫ/15: 336.

41 The scribe has written: ú-e-t]um-mar.

42 On dapiant- see Oettinger 2006: 1331.

43 See CHD Š 1: 200.

44 See Götze 1930: 50.

45 So according to the photo, in the copy: -uš.

46 Diversely Groddek (2008: 50) reads: ŠEŠ-YA.

47 So Otten, Rüster 1973: 85.

48 See Weeden 2011: 469.

49 See CHD P/2: 123.

50 This is a quite free translation of the enclitic expression -a/-ya that may also men ‘even’ in this passage. We would have expected -pát here.

51 See CHD P/2: 185.

52 See Singer 2006: 42.

53 See Singer 2002: 744-45; Cammarosano 2010: 48-49, who does not exclude a different translation for this word, such as ‘apt for the succession;’ Knapp 2015; see also HW III/2 Lief 19, 645-46 .

54 See CHD L-N 4: 370.

55 See CHD Š 1: 20

56 See CHD Š 2: 249.

57 On the possible meanings of the verb maruwai- see CHD L-N 2: 202; Kloekhorst 2008: 562-563.

58 Differently Weeden 2011: 480, on the expression EGIR-aš-ša: ‘last men.’

59 See CHD L-N 2: 101.

60 Literally: ‘and.’

61 For the Akkadian word ḫatanu in the Hittite texts see Weeden 2011: 507.

62 See CHD P 3: 306.

63 See Weeden 2011: 183-184.

64 Literally: ‘horses of turning.’

65 See CHD L-N 1: 91.

66 See CHD Š 1: 200.

67 This sentence is contrastive to what the previous damaged passages presumably contained; in fact, the ‘power if Ištar’ should punish whoever did not keep the word of the tablet.

68 See CHD L-N 1: 91.

69 See CHD P 3: 306.

Stefano de Martino, University of Turin, Italy, stefano.demartino@unito.it, 0000-0001-6886-636X

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Stefano de Martino, The Edict Issued by the Hittite King Ḫattušili III Concerning the Priesthood of the Goddess Ištar/Šaušga, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4.03, in Clelia Mora, Giulia Torri (edited by), Administrative Practices and Political Control in Anatolian and Syro-Anatolian Polities in the 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE, pp. -23, 2023, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0042-4, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4

The Hittite King as Administrator of the Land

Giulia Torri

Abstract: In recent years archaeological investigation has made an important contribution for ascertaining the possible relationship between the center of the kingdom, namely the king and his capital city, and the regions at the core of the kingdom in different periods of Hittite history. The empire was not a monolithic entity but a complex web of interactions. In this frame the Hittite king emerges in his several roles. In this study I have chosen to focus on the king’s administrative role and the way in which he was present in the territory through a controlled system of land allocation.

The Hittite economy was based on three main elements: cultivation of the land; herding; export of metals. The dominant agrarian system comprised a farm-based economy, in which agriculture and herding were fundamental factors of the country’s wealth.1

The king himself administered the country under the aegis of the gods. Of significance in this respect is the old Hittite ritual CTH 416 in which the king is represented as a farmer holding a sickle and the queen as a commoner woman seated by a threshing mill.2 Construction ritual CTH 414 states that the Sun-goddess and the Storm-god entrusted the land to the king.3 In fact, the documentation shows that the state provided for the functioning and management of the temple, so that one cannot speak of a division of powers, including economic powers, between state and religious power, at least on the economic level (Klinger 2022: 625-626).

The kings’ religious journeys into central Anatolia represented, on an ideological level, a moment of union between the religious and governmental spheres.4 On the other hand, the territorial presence of the Hittite king (and his officials) seems to have been capillary, as, in fact, was the organization of the State, which used numerous decentralized structures to manage both the religious and economic organization throughout the realm.5 As Weeden outlined some years ago in his study of the Hittite scribal schools outside Ḫattuša, the increasing number of tablets found in excavations carried out in recent years outside the capital city has brought to light the evidence of a Hittite scribal culture, which was, at least in central Anatolia, evenly spread over the territory and similar in scriptural content, genres and external features in all the towns in which texts have been found (Weeden 2011: 116-134).6 Cuneiform texts have been found in the towns the Hittite king visited during the festivals because they were strategically important for the kingdom both militarily and economically.7 Weeden has observed that Hittite cuneiform writing appears mainly where royal seals have also been found. On the opposite, in places where seals offer no evidence of the royal family there is also more sporadic evidence of a cuneiform culture (Weeden 2011: 117-118).

Clearly a royal seal itself is not evidence of the king’s presence, but it may also indicate that an official of the court was acting on his behalf, as a member of the aristocracy that ruled the country and controlled its administration, as Weeden has already suggested (2011: 118-119).8 Some sources, however, document the king’s presence in certain Anatolian centers, in the course of carrying out his administrative duties. The present study analyses these texts in order to show how the king absolved his duties as territory-wide administrator of the kingdom.9

In the Land Donation documents from OH period, the royal seal indicates the king donating land or, in case of anonymous seals, the officiality of the royal act. Interestingly, these documents register where the act took place, which was not always Ḫattuša, and the list of the higher officials mentioned as witnesses of this procedure.10 It is also probable that the seals of the officials were appended to the tablet. Although among Hittite records, administrative and economic texts are scarce, the few extant documents are useful in reconstructing how certain procedures were carried out. Hittite Land Donations are a very particular text typology discovered in Ḫattuša, with the exception of a tablet (LSU 1) discovered in İnandık (Rüster, Wilhelm 2012: 33-39). The oldest sixteenth-century specimens feature a seal impression in the central part of the obverse that is still found in the fifteenth-century land donation of Arnuwanda and Ašmunikal to the hierodule Kuwatalla (LSU 91).11 However, land donation documents also date from the imperial period, though they display different formal characteristics. Surely this category includes the decree issued by Ḫattušili III in favor of Ura-Tarḫunta and the one issued by Tutḫaliya IV in favor of Šaḫurunuwa, CTH 225,12 and the so-called vow of Queen Puduḫepa to the goddess Lelwani, CTH 585.13 As some scholars have remarked, treaties concluded with members of the royal family and with rulers of territories that were de facto equivalent to independent political entities may also have borrowed some formal features from land donations, as for example the two treaties with Tarḫuntašša.14 None of these documents is preserved on sealed tablets.

Several land donations, later brought to Ḫattuša, were written in other cities.

As Rüster and Wilhelm have reported, during the period of Telipinu four documents had been composed in Ḫanḫana (LSU 5 rev. 31-38, LSU 14 rev. 3’-10’, LSU 22 rev. 68-61, and LSU 23 rev. 2’-6’), and one tablet in Kammama (LSU 6 rev. 8’-14’).15

During the period of Ḫantili II two texts were written in Kammama (LSU 28 rev. 21’-27’ and 36 rev. 3’-9’). And during the period of Ḫuzziya II, LSU 41 (rev. 8’-12’) was written in Ḫanḫana and LSU 43 (rev. 1’-6’) in Katapa (Rüster, Wilhelm 2012: 57-58).

The wording used in the texts to introduce the place of composition in the presence of the witnesses is always identical in the different texts, as Riemschneider first noted in his research on land donations (Riemschneider 1958: 337):16 ṭup-pa-am an-ni-a-am i-na URUGN a-na pa-ni PNs, PN DUB.SAR iš-ṭú-ur (“I, PN, the scribe, wrote this tablet in the town GN in front of the witnesses PNs).17

In all these instances we have reason to think that the place of composition depended on the presence of the king and his court in the cities mentioned in the last part of the texts. It seems possible that the king or his officers who were custodians of the royal seals, went where they were needed to perform this task.18 This is supported, for example, by comparing LSU 4, composed in Ḫattuša, with LSU 5, composed in Ḫanḫana. Both documents mention a certain Šandamei, who has the title of Chief of the Thousand Charioteers (UGULA 1-LI LÚ.MEŠKUŠ7),19 as former owner of some parcels of land in Waštišša, in the region of Amkuwa. He appears with the same title as witness in the so-called İnandik tablet (LSU 1),20 which was written in Ḫattuša by a scribe named Aškaliya (LSU 1 rev. 22-27). Wilhelm, following Easton (1981: 3), suggests that LSU 4 and 5 were written some years later than LSU 1 and LSU 2. In LSU 4 e 5, the land has been expropriated because Šandamei had probably lost the king’s favor or was now deceased (Rüster, Wilhelm 2012: 50).

Both tablets, LSU 4 and LSU 5, concern the donation of land to the House of Ḫattuša in Šarišša,21 an institution attested only in these Old Hittite charters22 in which, according to LSU 3 (obv. 25-27), a certain Inar was employed as DUB.SAR.GIŠ.23 Lastly, the officials mentioned as witnesses24 in the tablets (LSU 4 rev. 9’-14’; LSU 5 rev. 38-41) share the same titles (GAL.DUMUMEŠ.É.GAL ‘Chief of the Palace Servants,’25 LÚurianni,26 GAL LÚ.MEŠMEŠEDI27). The name of the Chief of the Palace Servants Ḫapuwaššu, partially preserved in LSU 4 rev. 10’, can be restored also in LSU 5 rev. 39. Unfortunately, the names of the scribes of both texts have not been preserved, but, for example, LSU 30, composed in Ḫattuša during the reign of Ḫantili II, and LSU 28, issued under the same king in Kamamma, were both composed by the scribe Ḫanikkuili and both had the same board of witnesses: Šarpa, GAL.DUMUMEŠ.É.GAL, Ḫaššuili, GAL LÚ.MEŠMEŠEDI, Ilaliuma, LÚurianni, and Muššu, GAL LÚ.MEŠGEŠTIN (Rüster, Wilhelm 2012: 54).

The cities mentioned in the land donations are well attested in documents from the Old Hittite period onward and are part of the core of the Kingdom during its oldest history. About Ḫanḫana and Katapa we have several sources referring to the religious activity of the Hittite kings in these areas. Ḫanḫana was situated two days north of Ḫattuša towards the Kaškeans area. It is not included in the AN.TAḪ.ŠUM celebrations and in the nuntarriyašḫa-festival, but it was the locale of a celebration dedicated to the god Telipinu.28 Katapa too was located at a two-day trip from Ḫattuša. It was one of the cities where the king might spend the winter, as attested by the oracle text CTH 563, KUB 5.3+ III 3-12 (Beal 1997: 211) and the Annals of Muršili (CTH 61, KUB 19.37 II 35-38; (Goetze 1933: 170). During the late Hittite seasonal festivals, Katapa is mentioned as a leg of the royal journey: The nuntarriyašḫa-festival began in Katapa, and after several celebrations in the neighboring cities (including Taḫurpa) the king moved to Arinna on the fifth day and to Ḫattuša during the sixth day (Nakamura 2002: 19). Again, the city is mentioned in the 14th day of the same festival (Nakamura 2002: 22). As far as we know, during the spring season, after inaugurating the celebrations of the AN.TAḪ.ŠUM-festival, the king moved from Ḫattuša (or anywhere else) to Taḫurpa, ‘but he does not go at all as far as Katapa: at Katapa there are no rites; and even if the king goes to Katapa he shall not celebrate in the city either the rites or the great assembly’ (CTH 605, IBoT 3.40+ 2’-11’).29

The existence of land grants is already mentioned in the Hittite Laws at §53: ‘If a TUKUL-man and his partner have settled together and if they have a falling out and divide their household, if there are 10 persons on their (?!) land, the TUKUL-man takes 7 persons and his partner takes 3 persons. They divide the cattle and sheep of the land in the same way. If someone holds a tablet with a royal grant, they divide the said land30 in the following manner: the TUKUL-man takes 2 parts also of (the land of ) the grant and his partner takes 1 part (of it)’ (KBo 6.3 III 9-14 = KBo 6.6 I 12-18: (9) ták-ku LÚ GIŠTUKUL Ù LÚḪA.LA-ŠU ták-ša-an a-ša-an-z[(i ma-a-né-za i-ta-la-u-e-eš-ša-an-zi)] (10) ta-az É-SÚ-NU šar-ra-an-zi ták-ku gi-im-ma-r[(a-aš-š)]a-[(aš 10 SAG.DU 7 SAG.DU)] (11) LÚ GIŠTUKUL da-a-ai Ù 3 SAG.DU LÚḪA.LA-ŠU da-a-i GU4ḪI.A UD[(UḪI.A gi-im-ma-ra-aš-ša-aš)] (12) QA-TAM-MA šar-a-an-zi ták-ku NÍG.BA LUGAL ṬUP-PÍ ku-iš-ki! ḫar-zi [(ma-a-an-za)] (13) A.ŠÀḪI.A-na ka-ru-ú-i-li-in šar-ra-an-zi Ù NÍG.BA 2 QA-TAM [(LÚ GIŠTUKUL da-a-i)] (14) Ù 1 QA-TAM LÚḪA.LA-ŠU da-a-i)’.

It is interesting to note that the procedure concerning the granting of land by the king can be compared with a paragraph of the Instructions for the Temple staff (CTH 264) concerning gifts of the king to priests.31 The text mentions, among other rules, the fact that priests, as custodians of temple treasures, were not allowed to have private possessions.32 However, these instructions cover the instance in which a priest may have received a gift from the palace with the following words: ‘If, however, they give to him as gift from the palace silver, gold, clothing or bronze utensils, let them be cited (in a document):’33 (KUB 13.4 II 32’’: ma-a-an-ma-aš-ši IŠ-TU É.GAL-LÌ AŠ-ŠUM NÍG.BA-ŠU (33’’) KÙ.BABBAR KÙ.SIG17 TÚG-TU4 Ú-NU-UT ZABAR pí-an-zi na-at lam-ni-ya-an e-eš-du). The text explicitly reports how the gift must be registered: The documents must report the name of the king who assigned the goods: ‘This king gave it to him’ (II 34’’: ka-a-aš-wa-ra-at-ši LUGAL-uš pa-iš); the weight of the object must be written on the document: ‘How much it weighs must also be ascertained’ (II 34’’: KI.LÁ.BI-ŠU-ya-˹at˺ ma-ši-wa-an (35’’) na-at i-ya-an-pát e-eš-du”; on what occasion the gift was made – in the case of this instruction text it is during a festival: ‘They gave it to him for this festival’ (II 36’’: ke-e-da-ni-wa-ra-at-ši A-NA EZEN4 SUM-er); the witnesses who were present at this act: ‘The witnesses shall be written afterwards: This and that person were present when they gave it to him’ (II 36’’: ku-ut-ru-u-uš-ša EGIR-an (37’’) i-ya-an-te-eš a-ša-an-du SUM-er-wa-at-ši ku-wa-pí nu-wa ka-a-aš (38’’) ka-a-aš-ša a-ra-an-ta-at).

The text also states that this gift cannot be kept inside the home of the priest but must be sold. It also describes how a priest should proceed with the sale of goods received from the crown. As we learn from a passage in KUB 13.4 II (40’’-44’’), a number of steps must be followed for the sale to be legitimate: ‘When he sells it (i.e. the mentioned goods), he shall not sell it in secret. The Lords of Ḫatti shall be present and check. They shall make a (separate?) document of what he (the buyer) buys,34 and they shall seal it in front (of him?).35 When the king comes up to Ḫattuša, he (the buyer) shall bring it (this document) to the palace, and they shall seal it for him.’36 (KUB 13.4 II 40’’: uš-ša-ni-ya-zi-ma-at-za ku-wa-pí ḫar-wa-ši le-e uš-ni-ya-zi (41’’) ENMEŠ URUḪA-AT-TI a-ra-an-ta-ru nu uš-kán-du nu-za ku-it (42’’) wa-ši-ya-zi na-at GIŠ.ḪUR37 i-ya-an-du na-an-kán pé-ra-an ši-ya-an-du (43’’) ma-aḫ-ḫa-an-ma-kán LUGAL-uš URUḪa-at-tu-ši ša-ra-a ú-iz-zi (44’’) na-at I-NA É.GAL-LÌ pa-ra-a e-ep-du na-at-ši ši-ya-an-du).

The passages quoted above, as already stressed by van den Hout (2020: 190), describe the process of producing two official records concerning the same gift.

In the first case it describes how the king’s gift should be immediately registered: This description can be compared with the possible preparation of a land donation tablet. First, the name of the king should be recorded in the text (ka-a-aš-wa-ra-at-ši LUGAL-uš pa-iš); the witnesses’ names shall be written afterwards (ku-ut-ru-u-uš-ša EGIR-an (37’’) i-ya-an-te-eš a-ša-an-du).38 This last expression refers to the physical location of the names on the tablet. In the donation documents, the name of the king appears in the opening lines of the text and his seal is placed on the obverse of the tablet; the witnesses are mentioned at the end of the tablet in the last lines, which mention the place of composition and the name of the scribe.

The second instance mentioned in the instruction text describes how the sale of this same gift should be registered.39 As already outlined above, the rule seems to have been to record royal grants on tablets, and perhaps more than one tablet was produced so that the beneficiary could also have a copy of it. Miller notes the strangeness of forcing a priest to sell a gift immediately after receiving it from the king (Miller 2013: 52).40 However, it seems to me that this peculiarity can be explained by the occasion for which the gift is made, which is a festival (II 36’’: A-NA EZEN4 SUM-er). We can connect this detail to the fact that priests and several other groups of people had to provide the necessary goods for celebrating local festivals. Cammarosano lists a number of participants who are mentioned in texts as contributors of cult-offerings.41 These include a wide range of people, from the priests present in the area where the feast was held to the local communities (Cammarosano 2018: 148-150; Cammarosano, Lorenz 2019: 23). In regard of the duties of the local priests, the cult inventory texts state that the priest must provide ‘from his own estate.’ Just to quote an example: ‘[Tot]al: the priest now supplies from his house 12 PARĪSU-measures of dried milled (grain) for the 12 monthly festivals [as well as for] the 2 festivals (of autumn and spring).’ (KUB 42.100+ rev. III 20’ [ŠU.NÍG]IN 12 PA tar-˹ša˺-an ˹ma˺-al-la-an A-NA 12 EZEN4 ITU.KAM (21’) [Ù A-NA] ˹2˺ E[ZE]N4[ME]Š LÚSANGA IŠ-TU É-ŠÚ ki-nu-un SUM-zi) (Cammarosano 2018: 348-349). The obligation to sell the royal gift may have been linked to the duty of supplying what was necessary for the feast (KUB 13.4 II 36’’: ke-e-da-ni-wa-ra-at-ši A-NA EZEN4 SUM-er). Therefore, it seems obvious that the priest could not keep this gift inside his home or sell it in secret but had to sell it officially in the presence of the Lords of Ḫattuša (Miller 2013: 254-255). It seems to me that a chain of redistribution of goods can be outlined as follows: priests could not own private property (KUB 13.4 II 29’: nu A-NA ˹LÚ˺ É.DINGIR-LÌ KÙ.BABBAR KÙ.SIG17 (30’’) le-e-pát e-eš-zi); kings often gave gifts to local shrines and priests: the goods of the temples belonged exclusively to the deity (II 28’’: ku-it ku-it DINGIR-LÌ-ni-ma-at e-eš-zi-pát);42 priests received gifts for the celebration festivals, as discussed above.43

A further reference to a royal grant written on a tablet is preserved in the oath imposition for the installation of Tutḫaliya III (CTH 271; Miller 2013: 154-167): ‘The entire land of Ḫattuša x[ ], [Tut]ḫaliya, Great King, Hero, shall govern! His [ ], though, Pariwatra, Kantu[zzili, Mannini (?)] and Tulpi-Tešup our grandson, to [th]em households have been given, and it has been recorded for them on a tablet’ (KUB 36.118+ obv. 6’: [KUR UR]UḪA-AT-TI-wa ḫu-u-ma-an Š[A ] x x [ ] (7’) [mDu]-ut-ḫa-li-ya-aš LUGAL.GAL UR.S[AG ma-n]i-ya-aḫ-ḫi-⸢iš-ke-ed-du⸣ [ ] / (8’) [ M]EŠ-ŠU-ma-wa-aš-ši ku-i-e-eš [mPa]-ri-ya-wa-at-ra-aš mKán-tu-z[i-li-iš …] (9’) [mTúl-pí]-dU-ub-aš-ša DUMU.DUMU-NI nu-wa-[aš-m]a-aš ÉḪI.A pí-ya-a-an (10’) [nu-wa-aš-ma]-˹ša-at˺ tup-pí i-ya-˹an˺-ta [ ] (Miller 2013: 164-165). In this instance no further reference to the location of these households appears in this very fragmentary text.

It is interesting to note that a land grant act is recorded in the final part of the second version of the myth of Illuyanka (CTH 321), where reference is also made to a written text: (IV 22-28) ‘Thereafter in the town of Tanipiya a field is given by the king. Six kapunu measures of field, one kapunu of vineyard, a house and threshing floor, and three buildings for the servants. [ ] So it is on the tablet’ (Hoffner 1990: 14) (KBo 3.7 rev. IV 22’: nu a-ap-pa pa-ra-a-pát I-NA ˹URU˺Ta-ni-pí-ya (23’) A.ŠÀku-e-ra-aš LUGAL-wa-az ˹pí˺-ya-an-za (24’) 6 ka-pu-nu A.ŠÀ ka-pu-nu GIŠKIRI6.GE[ŠTIN] (25’) ˹É˺-TIM Ù KISLAḪ 3 ÉḪI.A SAG.GÉME.AR[ADMEŠ (26’) [ ] ṬUP-PÍ-ma e-eš-zi).44 The town of Tanipiya, mentioned only in this composition, was probably located in the vicinity on Kaštama, in the region of Nerik (Del Monte, Tischler 1978: 364).

During the 13th century, in the periods of reign of Ḫattušili III and Tutḫaliya IV, other chancellery documents from later periods were issued in cities other than the capital. It seems, however, that these kings were most active in the southern region of Anatolia, where it is possible to identify the geographical area of their activity.

The treaty stipulated between Ulmi-Tešub/Kurunta of Tarḫuntašša and Ḫattušili III45 had been composed in a town of southern Anatolia, Urikina (CTH 106: KBo 4.10+ rev. 28).46 In this treaty the list of witnesses (KBo 4.10+ rev. 28-32) is preceded by the usual sentence ‘This tablet (was prepared) in the town Urikina’ (KBo 4.10+ rev. (28) ṬUP-PA AN-NI-A-AM I-NA URUU-ri-ki-na. In the period of Ḫattušili III, the city of Urikina had a political significance resulting from a decree of this king and Queen Puduḫepa, which mentions the institution in this town of a cult for Ištar of Šamuḫa, as a consequence of the expropriation of land from Arma-Tarḫunta, former governor of the Upper Country, for the benefit of the goddess:47 ‘Then during the reign of my brother I split Ištar in Šamuḫa and for her I built temples in Urikina, and I gave to her this household of Arma-Tarḫunta. The deity spoke about the matter of the household of Arma-Tarḫunta in a dream and I certainly did not change it (her word)’ (KUB 21.17 obv. II (5) nam-ma-za-kán dIŠTAR URUŠa-mu-ḫi (6) A-NA PA-AN ŠEŠ-YA šar-ra-aḫ-ḫu-un (7) nu-uš-ši ÉMEŠ DINGIRMEŠ I-NA URUÚ-ri-ki-na (8) i-ya-nu-un nu ki-i É md30-dU a-pé-e-da-ni AD-DIN (9) nu INIM É md30-dU DINGIR-LUM ták-ša-an Ù-za IQ-BI (10) na-an-kán Ú-UL-pát ⸢wa⸣-aḫ-nu-nu-un). This document, which deals mainly with the inauguration of a new cult for Ištar, also serves as a land donation to this deity, since the temple is given the household which was once property of the adversary of Ḫattušili.48 The city in the vicinity of Kummanni, is also mentioned in the votive texts of Puduḫepa (Del Monte, Tischler 1978: 460-461; Lebrun 2001: 326-27; de Roos 2007: 25).

During the imperial period, as mentioned in the instruction text of Tutḫaliya IV, KUB 26.1 (CTH 255), the courtiers were summoned to swear for the king in the city of Ušša, as we know from its colophon: ‘Tablet one of the oath, in the city of Ušša for the courtiers’49 (rev. IV 54: DUB.1-PU ŠA MA-ME-TI (55) I-NA URUU-uš-ša (56) ŠA LÚ.MEŠSAG; Miller 2013: 63).50 As Miller remarks, the courtiers were required to swear an oath in this town, which was a center in the kingdom of Tarḫuntašša. A distinction is made between the officials who were promptly ‘here’ (i.e. in Ušša) and the ones ‘that were not here’ (Miller 2013: 296-297). The tablet itself was found in Ḫattuša.

It is not known why King Tutḫaliya was in Ušša but it is worth mentioning a NH purification ritual of Kizzuwatnean origin, KBo 11.5+ (CTH 703; Wegner 2002: 209-214), performed in this town for several deities and hypostasis of the Storm-god and the goddess Ḫepat. The ritual lasted 6 days and its colophon says: ‘Second tablet, words of Muwalanni of the burnt offering. When the king goes to Ušša. Not complete’ (KBo 11.5+ rev. IV 30’: DUB.2.KAM INIM mMu-wa-la-an-ni (31’) ú-ra-na-u-wa-aš dUTU-ŠI-za (32’) GIM-an I-NA URUU-uš-ša p[a-iz-zi] (34’) Ú-UL Q[A-TI]).51

Of course, there is nothing which would demonstrate a coincidence between the participation of the king in this ritual in Ušša and the episode of the courtiers’ oath of Tutḫaliya (CTH 255). The city is mentioned along with its pantheon in the prayer of Muwatalli II, CTH 381 II 38-40: ‘Storm-god of Ušša, Storm-god of Parašḫunta, Mount Ḫuwalanuwanda, River Ḫulaya, male gods, mountains (and) rivers of the Lower Land (Singer 1996: 37).’52

It is interesting to note another important document of the same king, which was prepared in a town of the kingdom that was not the capital and is not otherwise attested. It is the Bronze Tablet, the treaty stipulated between Tutḫaliya IV and his cousin Kurunta. The final lines of the reverse report that the tablet was written in Tawa by a scribe named Ḫalwaziti, son of Lupakki, of the town Ukkiya, before a number of witnesses (rev. IV 30-43). The sentence is formulated in the same way as that of the OH land donations:53 ṬUP-PA AN-NI-YA-AM I-NA URUTa-a-wa A-NA PA-NI PNs mḪal-wa-zi-ti LÚDUB.SAR DUMU mLu-pa-ak-ki LÚ URUUk-ki-ya EL-ṬUR.

In addition, the tablet’s colophon states that seven copies of the original treaty had to be placed respectively before the Sun-goddess of Arinna, the Storm-god of Ḫatti, Lelwani, Ḫepat of Kizzuwatna, and the Storm-god piḫaššašši. The seventh copy was given to Kurunta (rev. IV 44-50; Otten 1988: 26-29).

The similarity of certain formal features between the treaties with Tarḫuntašša and the land donations had already been stressed by Del Monte and, later, Devecchi in their treatments of the treaty with Talmi-Šarruma of Aleppo (CTH 75), edited in the period of Muwatalli II in order to provide the ruler of Aleppo with a new version of the treaty, after the copy of the stipulation made at the time of Muršili had been stolen (Del Monte 1975: 1-2; Devecchi 2010: 5-6). This tablet also reports before the list of witnesses the sentence: ‘Ziti, the scribe, son of mNU.GIŠKIRI6 wrote this tablet in Ḫattuša in front of PNs’ (KBo 1.6 rev. 17: ṭup-pa an-na-a i-na URUḪa-at-ti ˹a-na˺ [pa-ni] PNs54 mLÚ DUB.SAR ˹DUMU mNU.GIŠKIRI6˺ DUB.SAR ˹iš-ṭur˺).55

It is not certain whether the scribe and the witnesses were already mentioned in the original version written during the reign of Muršili or this paragraph was added in the following version edited during the reign of Muwatalli. However, as Balza 2008, 414 has remarked, this treaty with Talmi-Šarruma from Aleppo and the two treaties with Tarḫuntašša have a different political nature than the other political treaties and, as shown also in the examples quoted above, share a number of features with the land donations. For the present study it is important that the sentence introducing the list of witnesses records the place of composition, which in this case was Ḫattuša.

The closest parallel to the phrase used in the treaty of Muwatalli is in the Arnuwanda’s and Ašmunikal’s land donation to the hierodule Kuwatalla (CTH 222): KBo 5.7 rev. 51-55: ‘Inar, the scribe wrote this tablet in Ḫattuša in front of PNs” (ṬUP-PA AN-NI-A-AM I-NA URUḪA-AT-TI A-NA PA-NI PNs / ˹m˺I-na-ar LÚDUB.SAR IŠ-ṬUR; Rüster, Wilhelm 2012: 238-239).

In recent years archaeological investigation has made an important contribution for ascertaining the possible relationship between the center of the kingdom, namely the king and his capital city, and the regions at the core of the kingdom in different periods of Hittite history. Different sources, such as sherds, seals, cuneiform texts and landscape monuments, and their distribution over the territory, contribute to showing that the empire was not a monolithic entity but a complex web of interactions. In this frame the Hittite king emerges in his several roles. In this study I have chosen to focus on the king’s administrative role and the way in which he was present in the territory through a controlled system of land allocation. The homogeneity of the formulations contained in the land donations shows how his role remained constant over time, despite the change in the noble titles of its aristocracy (van den Hout 2022: 313-340) and the shift in the axis of political interest from central and eastern Anatolia (as reflected in the oldest texts) to southern Anatolia (as in the texts of Ḫattušili III and Tutḫaliya IV).

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1 Klinger (2022: 605-647) has now published a general overview of the Hittite economy.

2 See the on-line edition C. Montuori (ed.), hethiter.net/: CTH 416 (TRit 24.07.2015), §27.

3 See the ritual CTH 414 in the on-line edition S. Görke (ed.), hethiter.net/: CTH 414.1 (TRde 13.03.2015). See §29.

4 They can only be described as different domains in our perspective but were not so in the Hittite period.

5 About the religious administration see Schwemer 2016: 1-24 and more recently Cammarosano 2018, who focuses on the Hittite inventory cult texts. About the management of the economy see the already quoted Klinger 2022 with references to previous research.

6 For a general discussion about text corpora outside Ḫattuša see van den Hout 2020: 169-171.

7 We know that the king and queen did not limit their presence to the capital for various reasons related to the celebration of festivals but also to political reasons, and not least because they had the power to decide in which city to spend the winter. About the possibility that the king could winter in other cities than Ḫattuša, the oracle text KUB 5.4+ mentions Katapa (III 3-12), Ankuwa (13-14) and Zitḫara (KUB 5.3 IV 13-15). In a recent contribution Forlanini describes the travels and consequent presence of Queen Puduḫepa, together with her husband, or alone, in several Anatolian districts, reconstructing the routes of their travels (Forlanini 2015: 27-36).

8 This administrative body was certainly not static in the course of time: The Hittite nobility, together with the role of the king, changed some of its characteristics and forms of land management, as can be seen from the studies of Torri (2016: 37-46) and Korn, Lorenz (2016: 23-36), the result of analyses carried out on similar sources with very different conclusions. This shows that the problem still needs to be studied in depth. On the offices of officials see the two studies by Marizza (2007), for the Middle Hittite period, and Bilgin (2018).

9 In a recent article Burgin 2022, 112-135, has pointed out that the king’s administrative activities as far as they emerge from the inventory texts are very limited in comparison with those of the queen and princes. This is certainly true but, nevertheless, these texts are limited to a specific period, that of Ḫattušili III and Tutḫaliya IV, and related to a particular administrative situation that does not fully reflect the possible economic activity of the king as a whole. It is, however, a very interesting study for arriving at a delimitation of the duties of the king and other members of the royal family.

10 The lists of witnesses and their titles have been collected and analyzed by Bilgin 2018 (455-461). See also recently van den Hout 2022: 313-354.

11 Because of their specificity, these documents have been studied in detail. Besides the contribution of Rüster, Wilhelm 2012, see Riemschneider 1958, Balkan 1973, Easton 1981, Herbordt 2005.

12 Edited by Imparati (1974: 5-209). Regarding CTH 224 and CTH 225, Easton (1981: 4 with n. 4) remarks that they should be better considered letters of exemptions even though they share some formal features with the land donations.

13 Edited by Otten, Souček 1965.

14 See about this Del Monte 1975: 1-10, Devecchi 2010: 1-27, Balza 2008: 387-418.

15 About Kammama see Süel, Weeden 2017: 201-203, and Corti 2017: 222-223. The city, not yet identified, lay north-east of Ḫattuša in the area of Šapinuwa. Different proposals for its location are by Forlanini 2008: 169-170 and Corti 2017: 223. An overview of the northern regions is in Corti 2017: 219-238.

16 The last comprehensive research on these documents is in Rüster, Wilhelm 2012. It will be followed here and the documents will be mentioned according to their text numbering, preceded by LSU.

17 For an overview of these documents and their witnesses see now van den Hout 2022: 316-321.

18 In the NH oracle text KUB 5.3+KUB 18.52 the oracle is summoned for deciding in which city the king is going to winter (Beal 1997: 211).

19 About this title see Beal 1992: 519 and Bilgin 2018: 193-219.

20 His name is also restored by Rüster, Wilhelm 2012 in LSU 2 obv. 3’.

21 de Martino 2022: 222 suggests that King Telepinu was founding the town of Šarišša and he had endowed the city with economic independence through the transfer of important economic resources.

22 For possible identifications with buildings in Šarišša see Rüster, Wilhelm 2012: 97.

23 About this title and its possible meaning as ‘clerk’ see van den Hout 2010: 255-267.

24 The sequence of witnessing officials close to the king in these texts is homogeneous, variations occurring in their titles are listed in Rüster, Wilhelm 2012: 49-57. The lists of witnesses are now collected and discussed in Bilgin 2018: 413-423. About the titles see also de Martino 2022: 228-229 and van den Hout 2022: 319-321.

25 Marizza 2006: 151-175, Bilgin 2018: 148-175.

26 About this title and its possible meaning see recently Bilgin 2018: 176-190.

27 Bilgin 2018: 98-116.

28 About Ḫanḫana and its region see Kryszeń 2016: 144-190 but see also Corti 2017: 220-222.

29 About Katapa and its region see Kryszeń 2016: 191-250.

30 CHD Š, 233b, suggests that the adjective karuili- here means ‘old because inherited.’ However, it could simply indicate the land owned by them, which was already mentioned in the previous lines along with cattle, sheep, and workers, except for the land of the royal grant, which is similarly divided into different parts. For this passage see Hoffner 1997: 64-65. Strangely, neither Hoffner nor CHD translate NÍG.BA at l. 13’.

31 Herbordt 2005: 27, following Güterbock 1997: 27-30, reconstructs the procedure of preparing and sealing the land donation tablets. According to her, after the preparation of the tablet, the royal seal was apposed on the convex surface, the lines and paragraph dividers were drawn and, lastly, the text was written, and the seals of the witnesses were appended. See also Easton 1981: 19.

32 The most recent edition is in Miller 2013: 244-265.

33 Miller (2013: 255) translates lamnian ešdu as ‘designated.’ I prefer the suggestion of CHD L: 38 a, ‘to cite,’ because it clearly refers to a written document.

34 The verb is waš- according to HEG IV, 380.

35 van den Hout (2020: 190) proposes that ‘in front’ refers to the fact that the text is sealed on the obverse, but we do not have tablets sealed by witnesses on the obverse.

36 See the translation of van den Hout 2020: 189-190.

37 On the problem concerning this word, whether it can indicate a wooden tablet or a document draft, see the extensive analysis of Marazzi 1994. See recently also van den Hout 2020: 188-190.

38 Miller 2013, 255 interprets EGIR-an iya- as ‘to append’ but it seems more probable that here the action of writing on a document is intended as pointed out to me by Rita Francia. I would like to thank her for her valuable advice on the interpretation of this passage of CTH 264.

39 It can be that the presence or intervention of the king was limited to some specific occasion or, as outlined by van den Hout (2020: 190 with n. 20), nothing suggests that this practice concerned also private transactions. This description can of course also be connected with the descriptions of gifts in votive texts, which very often refer to the presence of the royal couple, or the queen or the king, in different cities of the kingdom of Ḫatti (de Roos 2007). These texts describe where the dream occurred and the location of the promised votive objects which were according to this system distributed across the sanctuaries of the kingdom (Burgin 2016: 278).

40 van den Hout 2020: 190, suggests that the priest should sell the goods when he leaves the temple service.

41 All these groups can be outlined by searching in Cammarosano, Database: Hittite Local Cults (https://www.hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de/HLC/index.php). Cammarosano, Lorenz (2019: 23) list 28 cases concerning priests in cult inventory texts.

42 Miller 2013: 252-253.

43 When the instruction text says: ‘What is in the temple simply does not exist’ (Miller 2013: 253) we perhaps find a reference to the fact that even the celebration of feasts must be provided for in other ways than by drawing on this accumulation of wealth. On the system of religious administration through accumulation of gifts to the deities see Burgin 2016.

44 See the recent edition in E. Rieken et al. (ed.), hethiter.net/: CTH 321 (INTR 2010-11-23).

45 About the dating of this treaty to the period of Ḫattušili III see now de Martino 2022: 252 with references.

46 About the geography of southern Anatolia and the region of Tarḫuntašša see Forlanini 2017: 239-252.

47 Urikina is also a place of the cult of the deity Šarruma, see Laroche 1963: 294; van den Hout 1995: 73.

48 See about this text Ünal 1974: 18-29.

49 Another manuscript of this composition preserves part of the colophon, KUB 26.8, obv. IV 41’-42’. At l. 42’, the name of the town is not complete and could be read as URUU-˹uš˺-[ša] on the basis of the duplicate version.

50 The full edition is now in Miller 2013: 294-307.

51 An edition is by Wegner 2002: 209-214.

52 About Ušša and its religious as well as political role, see the summary in Barjamovic, Gander 2015: 507-508. There is one interesting votive text in which the queen has a dream in Ušša. This dream is related to the 13th century BC thanks to the name of the DUB.SAR Walwaziti mentioned in it (KUB 48.118 obv. 14).

53 See the list of witnesses collected in Bilgin 2018: 460.

54 List of witnesses, see Bilgin 2018: 459.

55 About the witnesses in these documents and a comparison between their titles and those of the witness of the OH documents (mentioned above) see now van den Hout 2022: 322-333.

Giulia Torri, University of Florence, Italy, giulia.torri@unifi.it, 0000-0001-9741-5963

Referee List (DOI 10.36253/fup_referee_list)

FUP Best Practice in Scholarly Publishing (DOI 10.36253/fup_best_practice)

Giulia Torri, The Hittite King as Administrator of the Land, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4.04, in Clelia Mora, Giulia Torri (edited by), Administrative Practices and Political Control in Anatolian and Syro-Anatolian Polities in the 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE, pp. -36, 2023, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0042-4, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4

The King Tutḫaliya IV, the Eflatunpınar Monument, and the River of the Watery Abyss

Maria Elena Balza

Abstract: In recent years, several studies have focused on the interpretation and possible function of the so-called Hittite landscape monuments. For many of these monuments, a connection with the sphere of religion and cultic celebration has been suggested, especially taking into account the possible sanctity of their location, often connected to mountains, rocky outcrops, and water. The landscape monuments would in this sense represent a form of appropriation of the landscape by the Hittite king, the elites, or, in some cases, local rulers, and would play a specific role in the transmission of messages aimed at consolidating identity and/or spreading consensus. This contribution aims to provide further elements of discussion on the subject, and particularly on the use of landscape monuments as the scene of public events, through a (re)examination of some characteristics of the so-called sacred pool of Eflatunpınar, its possible connection with cult celebrations, and the identity of the ruler that sponsored its construction.

1. Introduction

As for the internal dynamics and issues of the Hittite monarchy in the late 13th century BC, the period of the reign of Tutḫaliya IV presents multiple aspects of interest. The first element to take into account concerning this king is that his personality seems to have been deeply conditioned by the doubts surrounding the legitimacy of his position.1 His ascent to the throne is in fact one of the consequences of the coup perpetrated by Ḫattušili III at the expense of Urḫi Teššub/Muršili III. The usurpation of Ḫattušili is not an exceptional event in itself – the Hittite monarchy had already experienced comparable episodes – but rather because of the actors involved and, by extension, the consequences thereafter. The conflict between Ḫattušili and his brother Muwatalli’s son, designated heir to the throne while his father was still alive,2 leads to a deep rift within the royal family and an inevitable clash between the partisans of the two opposing sides within the court.3

In the end, Ḫattušili emerges victorious from his confrontation with his nephew. It is in the aftermath of this clash that the new king must build his kingdom and legitimise his position on the throne.

Lacking political legitimisation, Ḫattušili thus found himself in need of creating almost a transcendent, divine legitimacy, as would be demonstrated by a text such as CTH 81, the so-called ‘Apology,’ and its narrative.4 However, Ḫattušili also used two opposing strategies of repression to secure his position: the confiscation of property from his opponents and the search for consensus through the granting of special privileges to his partisans.5 But the fragile balance achieved by Ḫattušili also seemed to rest on the conclusion of an agreement with the remaining members of Muwatalli’s family, in particular with Kurunt(y)a, one of Muwatalli’s sons, to whom Ḫattušili assigns the throne of Tarḫuntašša, the capital of his late brother.6 According to a hypothesis by Philo Houwink ten Cate (1992), which has actually been under discussion for three decades now,7 Ḫattušili, at least initially, would have even established that Kurunt(y)a would have succeeded him on the throne of Ḫattuša. His cousin Tutḫaliya, on the other hand, does not seem to have been initially destined to rule. At first, Ḫattušili had in fact appointed one of his sons named Nerikkaili as heir to the throne (cf. CTH 106).

That being the case, at least on the face of it, Tutḫaliya’s rise to the throne seems to be the result of a plot, or a power struggle, at court, orchestrated perhaps by the powerful queen, Puduḫepa. But this is difficult to establish in the absence of clear data. The fact remains that, starting from a certain moment in Ḫattušili’s reign, Tutḫaliya prevails over the previous presumptive heir (tuḫkanti), and that, after his father’s death, he is crowned king.8

Despite this, or, perhaps, precisely because of it, Tutḫaliya seems to have been haunted throughout his reign by a sense of insecurity which led him to multiply his efforts to secure the loyalty of his subjects and to protect his own descendants.9 To achieve his objective, it seems that he used two complementary instruments: the legal instrument of the oath of allegiance, to which he subjected the officials, the elites, and the people of Ḫatti;10 and the administrative and political instrument represented by the reorganisation of the cult institutions, with a supposed attempt to centralise the different cults of the country.11 This centralisation would, in fact, have led the king to establish closer control over the various districts making up his kingdom.

During the reign of this ruler, it also seems that a great impetus was given to the creation of monumental works. The reign of Tutḫaliya IV coincides, in fact, with the creation of monumental works in various places in Anatolia.

Why was there such a proliferation of monuments in this phase? Was this ruler multiplying his efforts to mobilise human and divine favour regarding his reign? And if so, why? Are these efforts related to the period of crisis, not only dynastic, but also – as it seems – economic that affected the Hittite monarchy during the second half of the 13th century BC?

Within this framework, the monumental complexes constructed in extra-urban areas and connected to streams or spring water seem to me particularly noteworthy for decoding Tutḫaliya’s activity, as I will explain shortly.

2. Landscape monuments between water and stone

Before dealing with monuments dating to Tutḫaliya’s reign, it will be useful to return briefly to what has already been observed about the reliefs and the so-called landscape monuments of the Hittite period.

The first element to consider in relation to these monuments is that they are documented in Anatolia (within the Hittite state) only from the end of the 14th century BC, beginning with the reign of Muwatalli II; from this moment onwards, the Anatolian landscape began to be dotted by the presence of a series of figured, and often inscribed, monuments and rock reliefs.

Landscape rock reliefs and monumental works have been interpreted as boundary marks, even between different topographical areas within the Anatolian plateau; as propagandistic interventions into the landscape addressed to neighbouring countries; as symbols of the presence of the central power in the administered territory;12 and as places of power connected to one another to form a network in the context of the Anatolian landscape.13 In this sense, they would represent a form of appropriation of the landscape of a given territory, its traditions, and its cults by the Hittite king and the elites, or by local rulers.14

Leaving aside, for a moment, the question of the function of the Hittite landscape monuments, I would like to focus on a special characteristic of these works.

The monuments are often realised in places where two environmental features – the water and the stone – are present, often simultaneously. These natural elements are evidently able to provide these places with special attraction. The NA4ḫekur, NA4ḫuwasi, and É.NA4 are only a few of the stone structures mentioned in cuneiform texts, interpreted by many as monuments or architectural works with commemorative or funerary nature.15 Additionally, flowing waters and springs were considered to be places of great importance. On the ground of this, as it has already been noted in several studies, ‘the greater part of the landscape of Hittite Anatolia was in some sense sacred, in that the mountains, rivers and springs were so regarded (…).’ (Hawkins 2015: 1).16

The veneration of water, in particular, may be explained by the fact that water, whether it comes from the sky or is drawn from a spring, always carries life force; the same life force that disappears when a god abandons the material world, causing drought, famine, and death for both animals and human beings.17 To mention just one example of the importance and sanctity of spring waters, consider the so-called Quellgrotte, the ‘cave of the spring’, discovered at Ḫattuša, in the vicinity of Temple I, most likely dedicated to a chthonic deity.18 Springs, and water in general, can indeed also be linked to cavities, to the subsoil. Among these natural features, there is the well-known DKASKAL.KUR.19 This term, which seems to indicate a sacral or divine opening in the earth, occurs in different contexts: as a landmark in boundary descriptions (treaties); within lists of deities or topographical features (treaties and prayers); and as a recipient of offerings (rituals).20 Taking into account the available evidence, the most common translation for this term is ‘underground watercourse,’21 with possible reference to the seat of chthonic deities.22

Based on the above considerations, the fact that reliefs and other monumental works that seem to relate to power and its political discourse are often connected to mountains, rocky outcrops, and water is worthy of consideration.

According to some recent studies, Hittite elites would not have invested so many material and human resources in the realisation of these works if they could not have used them in their political rhetoric.23 And, if they were used as an element of this rhetoric, monumental works (reliefs and other urban and extra-urban architectural complexes) could then be seen as the scene of public events, thereby playing a specific role in the transmission of messages aimed at consolidating identity and/or spreading consensus.

Although the hypothesis that the landscape monuments or structures were places of public performances has not yet been investigated in depth, some textual references might suggest such an interpretation.24

With these considerations in mind, among the landscape monuments realised during the 13th century BC, and especially at the time of Tutḫaliya IV, I will put forward some considerations on the celebrations that might have taken place at the Eflatunpınar ‘sacred pool.’ This monument consists of a quadrangular pool, on the north side of which a large façade of orthostates rises, that appears as a perfect setting for public celebrations related to power and its needs to build and spread a shared identity. Although the monument does not bear Tutḫaliya’s signature, ‘the execution and the style point to the later Hittite Empire, 13th century BC, and an attribution to Tutḫaliya IV is not improbable’ (Hawkins 2015: 2).25 The following considerations may provide further support for the attribution of this monument to the reign of this king.

3. Tutḫaliya, the water, and the Hittite kingship

In a study from 1998, Marie-Claude Trémouille examined the role of Hittite rulers as curatores aquarum. In analysing the actions of Hittite kings for the management and distribution of water resources, Trémouille (1998: 192) also takes into consideration the structures realised for the collection of water. Based on the observation of the fact that the works constructed outside of the capital were probably built during the 13th century BC, the author concludes that the last generations of rulers of Ḫattuša were likely more sensitive to the problem of water supply.

The reason for this attitude should perhaps be sought in a water shortage situation, which resulted in the famine that seems to have struck Anatolia during the second half of the 13th century BC. This situation seems to have been testified in some contemporary texts, which seem to document a dramatic situation.26

This difficult phase, characterised by a severe shortage of grain, would have taken place in the period between the reigns of Ḫattušili III and Šuppiluliuma II, so also during the time of Tutḫaliya IV. Although famine years were not rare in Anatolia, it seems that the situation during the reigns of these rulers was quite severe.27

The occurrence of these specific environmental conditions in Anatolia could perhaps help to provide an explanation for the special relationship that seemed to exist between Tutḫaliya IV and water-related structures, a relationship that emerges from the available archaeological documentation. The remains of at least three facilities linked to stream water and dating to the reign of Tutḫaliya IV can, in fact, be interpreted as actual works aimed at regimenting waters. These are the man-made structures of Yalburt yaylası, a rectangular shaped pool, the large stone block of Karakuyu, belonging to a dam, and the rectangular stone block of Köylütolu yayla also originally belonging to a dam. In addition to these works, as mentioned just above, there are at least two other structures that can be attributed to the same chronological phase, the Alacahöyük/Gölpınar dam and Eflatunpınar pool.28

Among these structures, in what follows I would like to focus on the monument constructed at Eflatunpınar.

The spring Eflatunpınar lies in the Beyşehir district, west of Konya, 6 km north-east of Beyşehir Lake, wherein a series of springs gush forth and produce a stream flowing into Beyşehir Lake. This perennial water source is embedded in an artificial complex, composed of a stone monument or façade, on the edge of an artificial pool. This pool is made up of large stone blocks and was originally decorated with statues in the round and reliefs placed along its perimeter. But the most spectacular part of the whole architectural ensemble is represented by the façade – made of large stone blocks, and entirely covered with reliefs – which is located on the north side of the pool. In the centre of the scene, there are two seated figures (a male and a female), each of them surmounted by the representation of a winged sun. These two main figures are surrounded by hybrid beings whose function is to carry the wings of the two suns, as well as the wings of an even larger winged sun which covers, as in the Hittite royal aedicula, the entire representation. Above the larger upper winged sun, another one of presumably the same length is missing. At the bottom of the scene, under the feet of the two seated figures, there are – although they are only partially visible – five other figures, probably mountain-gods. Three of these figures are characterised by the presence of openings in their bodies, through which the water of the spring was supposed to flow, thus creating a rather spectacular theatrical effect.

With regard to the possible interpretation of this iconography, the two seated figures, placed in the centre of the scene, have been interpreted in different ways. Even though according to Jutta Börker-Klähn (1993) this iconography would have been a propaganda-motivated depiction of the Hittite royal couple (Ḫattušili and Puduḫepa), most interpretations see at the centre of the scene a pair of gods. In particular, in this couple, it has been proposed to recognise the proto-Hattian solar couple, the Storm-god and the Sun-goddess of Arinna, or the Sun-god of the Sky and the Sun-goddess of the Earth.29

The scene that unfolds before the eyes of the audience could be interpreted as a cosmological representation of the world, with the sun at the top, the earth with its mountains and springs at the bottom, and the gods in the middle that function as a link between the different elements that constitute the world.30 The representation of the winged sun, however, also recalls Hittite kingship. On the one hand, the winged sun represents one of the symbols of Hittite royalty at least since the 14th century BC, when it became one of the recurrent elements of royal aediculae. On the other hand, a link between the Hittite king and the Sun is also suggested by cuneiform sources and, in particular, by the expression DUTU-ŠI, ‘my sun,’ used at least since the end of the 15th century BC.31

In addition to this interpretation, according to Ömür Harmanşah (2014, 2015), Eflatunpınar could be seen as an attempt to reproduce the appearance of a mountain spring, gushing out of the natural stone, at a place that is far from the mountains, in the middle of a valley. Eflatunpınar would therefore be a mimetic work that recreates a mountain spring with two of its essential characteristics. On the one hand, the building material of the blocks that make up the monument is the same volcanic stone of the mountains of the Anatolian plateau; on the other hand, the water from the spring is channelled to gush out of the holes dug in the statues that decorate the basin, just as it would have been in a real mountain spring.32

It seems quite clear, therefore, that the monument is most likely connected with the sanctity of the spring and might recall the divine openings on the earth capable of connecting the world of humans with the world beyond.

Now, based on what has been noted above concerning the possibility that monumental works constructed in proximity of stone and (underground) water were used by Hittite elites as elements of their political and identity rhetoric, one may wonder whether Eflatunpınar could be interpreted as a place of political or religious performances. And, if so, one may also wonder what kind of celebrations could have been held at this specific location. Regarding this possibility, it has been suggested that ‘this sacred pool was an important station for the pilgrimage of the Great king during cultic festivals’ (Erbil, Mouton 2012: 70). And this hypothesis may find some confirmation in the presence of a settlement dating back to the 2nd millennium BC in the vicinity of Eflatunpınar.33

Taking all of these clues into consideration, below, I will formulate a more precise hypothesis about the celebrations that might have taken place at the source of Eflatunpınar.

As a working hypothesis, considering (1) the presence and centrality of water, which seems to flow from underground through the monument itself, (2) the presence of the winged sun, also interpreted as a recurring symbol of power connected to Hittite kingship, (3) the divine seated figures, and (4) the situation of the Hittite monarchy in the 13th century BC, I would like to suggest a link between the monument and a feast related to the celebration of Hittite kingship and to its relation to water. In this context, the water would be fundamental not only for its cultic and purifying characteristics, but also for its reviving power for agriculture.

In particular, I am wondering if it could be possible to establish a connection between Eflatunpınar and a celebration like the one that is mentioned in, and thus linked to, the so-called Illuyanka myth (CTH 321).

The Illuyanka myth has been preserved in some copies dating to the empire period, but is probably based on an ancient model.34 The mythical tale itself is preceded by an introduction, which mentions the name of the author of the text and the celebration to which the myth is linked, which is the feast of purulli. The myth follows this preamble, reported in two distinct versions, but that both narrate how the Storm-god of the Sky, after having been initially defeated by the Serpent (MUŠilluyanka-, MUŠelliyanku-), eventually manages to defeat him definitively with the help of the goddess Inara and of a man called Ḫupašiya (first version), or with the help of the son that he (the Storm-god) had generated with the daughter of a poor man (second version).

The reasons for the fight between the Storm-god and the Serpent are not made explicit. However, given the nature and characteristics of the protagonists of the tale, according to Franca Pecchioli Daddi, the fight between the two would seem related to the struggle for the control of water, as it is necessary for agriculture. According to the author, the Storm-god would control rainwater, while the Serpent would control the groundwater (Pecchioli Daddi, Polvani 1990: 41).35

The Illuyanka myth is very interesting from different points of view and, precisely for this reason, this text has rightly been the focus of several studies.36 However, for the purpose of this contribution, I would like to limit myself to some observations on the first version of the myth and on the assumption of the existence of a connection between the myth (first version) and the purulli festival.

As already mentioned, in the first version of the myth the Storm-god manages to defeat the Serpent after the intervention of Inara and the mortal Ḫupašiya. After that, the myth tells the story of Ḫupašiya, for whom Inara builds a house on the rock. Here, Ḫupašiya lives isolated from his wife and children, and is forbidden to look out the window. But Ḫupašiya does not respect the will of the goddess, and once he sees his wife and children again he begs Inara to let him go home. At this point, after a bad preserved passage, Inara entrusts the Hittite king with the custody of her home and the control of the underground waters. In commemoration of this event, the purulli festival is established (Pecchioli Daddi, Polvani 1990: 51-52).37

Purulli was probably a festival of Hattian origin, celebrated perhaps in the spring, when (or: so that)38 the land prospers and thrives.39 It also seems that purulli ‘has a very special position in the cultic calendar of the Hittites and stands in close connection to the Hittite kingship’ (Klinger 2009: 99).40 This connection seems to be grounded in the fact that, as mentioned above, the purulli festival seems to have been established as a result of the events narrated in the Illuyanka myth,41 and especially of the actions of Inara for the benefit of the king.42 For this reason, according to Pecchioli Daddi, the mythical tale that opens with the choice of Ḫupašiya and closes with the attribution of the control of the river of the watery abyss – that is the underground water so necessary for agriculture – to the Hittite king could be considered as a symbolic representation of the establishment of the Hittite kingship.43

Now, taking into consideration both the archaeological evidence and the textual data available to us, is it possible to hypothesise that the purulli festival, or another festival related to the celebration of both the Hittite monarchy (a royal cult?) and its privileged relationship with water, was held at the source of Eflatunpinar?

Before trying to answer this question, there is, however, one aspect that seems inconsistent with this interpretation. Central-north Anatolia, far from the south-western location of Eflatunpınar, seems to be the setting of both of the mythological tales of Illuyanka and the purulli festival.

In more detail, geographical references contained in the myth does not refer to the area south of the Kızılırmak river. On the contrary, the author of the myth, Kella, is a LÚGUDU12 priest of the city of Nerik, and ‘place-names like Kiškilušša, Ziggaratta, Nerik, Kastama, and Tanipiya tie the action to familiar terrain to the north of Hattusa’ (Hoffner 1998: 10). Similarly, the purulli festival appears to have been celebrated in Arinna, Ḫakmiš, Ḫattuša, Nerik, Utrūna, and Zippalanda (CHD P: 392; Taracha 2009: 136 with n. 799 and 800). Thus, again, in locations lying in central-north Anatolia.

This notwithstanding, it cannot be excluded that the purulli festival could have taken place in other areas of Anatolia as well. In fact, in relation to the possible location of the purulli festival, Jörg Klinger advanced the idea (grounded especially on a passage of the Annals of Muršili II), that ‘maybe the purullyas-festival is more a typical form of a ceremony or a special kind of sacrifice’ (Klinger 2009: 99-100), that is a festival or rite for different gods, which can be executed in different locations. Sources mention indeed not only several sites hosting the performance of the purulli festival, but also several deities as recipients of the rites, such as Lelwani, Telipinu, and the Storm-gods of Ḫatti, of Zippalanda, and of Nerik (CHD P: 392).

Other important considerations on the subject were expressed by Amir Gilan in a paper focusing on the interpretation of CTH 321. In particular, Gilan (2013: 108) observed that ‘the function of the first Illuyanka story is clearly given at the end of the narrative (…). It explains why the first (“foremost,” “original”) Purulli festival was celebrated in Kiškiluša or in Nerik. The audience of the text is not the congregation celebrating the festival but the recipients of the text in Ḫattuša, whom Kella seeks to inform about the meaning and history of a specific Purulli festival, originating in Kiškiluša and celebrated probably in Nerik. (…) With his etiology of the Purulli festival in Kiškiluša, Kella tries therefore, to “sell” the importance of this specific cult foundation to the authorities in Ḫattuša.’ In other words, according to Gilan, the mythological tale of Illuyanka (first version) seeks to explain the foundation of a royal cult in Kiškiluša; the place in which, in the first version of the Illuyanka myth, the goddess Inara put ‘her house [as well as the river] of the watery abyss [into] the hand of the king.’44 And, in order to do so, the author of the text establishes a link between the Illuyanka myth, the royal cult institution he is describing, and the first purulli festival.

Grounded on the above considerations, one may put forward the hypothesis that the same narrative structure of the mythological tales contained in CTH 321 could be adapted to other geographical and local contexts.45 Based on this suggestion, it does not seem impossible to me to imagine that there was a version of the Illuyanka myth more related to the southwestern geographical environment, and thus closer to the audience of the ceremony that could have taken place at Eflatunpınar.

If this were the case, the complex iconography of the façade of Eflatunpınar, characterised by the presence of the two seated gods (the Storm-god of the Sky and the Sun-goddess of Arinna on their thrones?), the mountain-gods through which the fresh water of the underground spring gushes, and the winged sun, with its double connotation as a symbol of divinity and symbol of kingship, could indeed contribute to support this hypothesis.

The façade could represent, from an iconographic point of view, the situation following the defeat of the Serpent, with the Storm-god and the Sun-goddess at the centre of the scene as if they presided over the return of the correct order of things, and as if they supervised the flow of underground water so important for human, animal, and vegetal life. The role of kingship in this ideological construction – something that the intended audience would have known – would have been to protect and manage the river of the watery abyss for the wellbeing of the land of Ḫatti.

And, if this hypothesis turns out to be well-founded, then one might have an additional clue for attributing the monument of Eflatunpınar to Tuthaliya IV, a king who was deeply involved in strengthening and protecting kingship (and his dynastic line) and in building water facilities.46 Through the construction of works for the collection and control of groundwater, the Hittite king perhaps aimed, at the same time, to reaffirm the role of the sovereign as an intermediary between the divine and human spheres, and to alleviate the damage caused by drought and famine that gripped the country. In the king’s mind, perhaps, this goal could be indeed achieved through a strategy based on divine aid and human skills.

Within this framework, water basins like that of Eflatunpınar, or even that of Yalburt yaylası, could have been places wherein the gods could be invoked to (re)occupy their place and restore or guarantee the correct order of things.47 But, at the same time, Hittite water basins could serve as places where, through great works of engineering, humans tried to prevent underground springs from drying up definitively, drought and death from taking over the land, and the passage between the world of human beings and gods from being closed off. These basins were, in short, tangible proof that, in the end, water would return and revitalise nature and human beings, as in the eternal battle between the Storm-god and his enemy. By creating vast water basins, the kings of Ḫattuša were thus providing villagers, nomads, herds, and the gods with a reserve of pure, living water whose function was to help combat the drought and famine caused by the disappearance, and sometimes by the wrath, of the gods.

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1 See Pecchioli Daddi 2006. On the reign of Tutḫaliya IV see Taş 2008. On this phase of the Hittite monarchy, see also, e.g., Giorgieri, Mora 1996 and 2010.

2 The Nişantepe archive contains the impressions of two seals of Urḫi-Teššub bearing the titles tuḫkanti and Prince (see Herbordt 2005: 204-205; Hawkins 2011: 95). See also Cammarosano 2009 on the hypothesis of a coregency between Urḫi-Teššub and his father Muwatalli.

3 On the intrigues and conspiracies at Ḫattuša’s court, see Giorgieri 2008. Likely, not only Ḫattušili, who controlled the north of the country and the city of Ḫattuša, but also Urḫi-Teššub, who came to the throne as Muršili (III), could count on supporters and partisans. In fact, the large number of bullae sealed with the impression of the seals of Muršili III found at Nişantepe seems to suggest that this king was very active in administrative operations. It could be inferred that Muršili had assigned goods and privileges to individuals of high rank in order to obtain their support in the war against his uncle (cf., e.g., Klengel 1999: 229). This would have resulted in a major rift among members of the ruling class.

4 For the edition of Ḫattušili’s ‘Apology’, see Otten 1981. On Ḫattušili’s political strategies, in addition to Pecchioli Daddi 2006, and Taş 2008, see also, among other studies, Imparati 1995; van den Hout 1995: 1107-1120; Giorgieri, Mora 1996: 37-51, and 2010; Klengel 1999: 235-271; Singer 2001, 2002 and 2009.

5 On Ḫattušili’s decrees regulating relations with a range of religious institutions, see Mora, Balza 2010, with references therein; see also Balza 2022, with references.

6 See Pecchioli Daddi 2006: 118, with references therein; see also Singer 2001 and 2002. On the transfer of the Hittite capital from Ḫattuša to Tarḫuntašša, the religious implications, and the ideological consequences of this decision, see Singer 2006; Taracha 2007.

7 See Houwink ten Cate 1992: 239-240, 259-270.

8 See, e.g., Imparati 1995; van den Hout 1998-2001; Bryce 2005: 272-273.

9 One of the most delicate problems of this troubled period of late Hittite history concerns the alleged coup d’état of Kurunt(y)a of Tarḫuntašša, who is said to have succeeded in overthrowing Tutḫaliya and becoming king of Ḫatti for a short time, before his cousin returned to power. Although this hypothesis may be supported by some textual and iconographical evidence, for the time being there does not seem to be substantial evidence that such a coup actually took place. For an overview on this controversial period, see Giorgieri, Mora 2010: 143-144 with n. 46-48.

10 See Miller 2013: 273 ff.

11 On the organization of Hittite local cults in the 13th century BC, see Hazenbos 2003; Cammarosano 2018. Several inventory texts that are attributed to Tutḫaliya have been interpreted as a clue that this king had promoted a large-scale cult reorganization. Consider, however, that cult inventories seem equally documented at the time of other rulers (cf. Cammarosano 2012).

12 On these aspects, see Giorgieri, Mora 1996: 72, 76-77, 81; Payne 2008; Seeher 2009; de Martino 2010; Glatz 2009; Glatz, Plourde 2011; Simon 2012; de Martino 2020.

13 On this topic, see Harmanşah 2014 and 2015; Ullmann 2010. Some interesting considerations can already be found in Gordon 1967.

14 See also the considerations of Glatz 2009; Glatz, Plourde 2011; Osborne 2017.

15 For a recent examination of some of the stone structures mentioned in Hittite texts, see Mora et al. 2017; see, also, Mora, Balza 2010; Balza, Mora 2011 for some general considerations on the subject.

16 On the sanctity of Hittite landscape see, among recent works, Erbil, Mouton 2012; Beckman 2013; Harmanşah 2014 and 2015, with references to previous literature; Archi 2015; Hawkins 2015; Payne 2018.

17 On the importance and the role of water and water structure in Hittite cult, see Erbil, Mouton 2012.

18 See Hawkins 1998: 288. For a reappraisal on the Quellgrotte, see Mora 2016 with references therein.

19 Among these natural or artificial openings in the ground, it is also possible to mention the ḫateššar, a term indicating the place wherein an angry deity could hide when he decided to disappear from the world. In the Illuyanka myth (first version) the goddess Inara ‘called the serpent up from its hole (Hittite ḫatteššar), (saying) “I’m preparing a feast. Come eat and drink.” The serpent and [his offspring] came up, and they ate and drunk. Now they do not want to go back down into their hole (Hittite ḫatteššar) again.’ (Hoffner 1998: 12). In another mythological text that narrates the disappearance of the Storm-god of Nerik, the story begins with the Storm-god who gets angry and retires into a cavity, or pit, referred to as a ḫatteššar (Hoffner, 1998: 22 ff.). In a similar way, in a fragmentary text describing a festival in honour of chthonic deities (CTH 645), a ḫatteššar is the ground cavity through which the connection with these deities is established. In all these instances the word is used to denote a special cavity in the ground. This term has usually been also identified as a sort of hole or pit in the ground in which offerings could be thrown (Green 2003: 140 with references therein).

20 See Gordon 1967; Otten 1980; Otten 1988: 33 f.; Hawkins 1995: 44 f.

21 See Gordon1967: 75 ff., on the different meanings of the two separated signs. See also the translation proposed by Hawkins 2000: 293: ‘“karstic slot, pot-hole”, conceived also as an entrance to the underworld.’ About the term, see also Ullmann 2010: 235-136.

22 See Archi 2007: 186-187; Harmanşah 2015: 45. Hawkins 1995: 44 f. noted a ‘one-for-one’ correspondence between the DKASKAL.KUR in the cuneiform documents and the hieroglyphic (DEUS) VIA+TERRA (translated ‘divine earth-road’) in the SÜDBURG inscription. On this subject, see also Erbil, Mouton 2012: 57 ff., who discuss the equivalence between the hieroglyphic and the cuneiform term and suggest that possibly ‘the Südburg complex would symbolize a natural underground watercourse.’ In more detail, the two scholars suggest that the shape of the sign (DEUS) VIA+TERRA might evoke the idea of a tunnel leading to a cave where an underground watercourse could flow.

23 For an overview see, e.g., Balza 2020 with references to previous literature.

24 Consider, e.g., the Bronze Tablet with the prohibition, addressed to Kurunt(y)a, to approach the NA4ḫekur of his father Muwatalli II; the texts that speak of the festivals that took place in the É.NA4 with the consequent accumulation of people and offerings; the description of the KI.LAM festival, with the procession to the NA4ḫuwasi of the Storm-god.

25 As for an analysis and interpretation of the monument, see Kohlmeyer 1983: 34-43; Rossner 1988: 67-74, n. 6; Emre 2002: 222, 228, 230; Bachmann, Özenir 2004; Ehringhaus 2005: 50-57.

26 See Klengel 1974; Otten 1977: 31; Emre 1993: 15 and n. 89-90; Divon 2008. See, however, de Martino 2018: 28-31, for a different interpretation of the available sources.

27 Concerning the last phase of Hittite history, four texts coming from Ḫattuša seem in fact to suggest a situation of food shortage in Ḫatti: CTH 126, 163, 176, 294. It is interesting to note that especially in CTH 163 there is a reference to three men from the Egyptian ‘administration of water-drawing’ who would be sent in Anatolia. It could possibly be that they were experts sent to assist the Hittite personnel who were to oversee the water (for irrigation?). For a recent review of these texts see, however, de Martino 2018: 29-31; Miller 2020.

28 On these structures, see Ehringhaus 2005: 37 ff.

29 See respectively Bittel 1953: 4-5; Börker-Klähn, Börker 1975: 34 ff.; Kohlmeyer 1983: 42-43.

30 For the possible interpretations of the monument, see Bittel 1953; Orthmann 1964; Kohlmeyer 1983; Ehringhaus 2005: 50 ff.; Erbil, Mouton 2012; Bachmann 2017.

31 See especially Erbil, Mouton 2012: 70 with references, who also suggested that, in addition to the fact that the winged sun is represented at least three times on the façade, ‘the deities figuring on the monument seem to be the tutelary gods of the Hittite king himself.’

32 See Harmanşah 2015: 79. On the possibility that the Eflatunpınar monument was connected to the Fasıllar monument, see lastly Varlik et al. 2016.

33 See, e.g., Özenir 2001: 540.

34 On the Illuyanka myth, see, among many studies, Beckman 1982; Pecchioli Daddi, Polvani 1990; Haas 2006: 97-103; Hoffner 1998 and 2007; Katz 1998; Rizza 2006; Gilan 2013; Rieken et al. (eds), hethiter.net/: CTH 321 (INTR 2010-11-23).

35 See also, e.g., Macqueen 1959: 174, according to whom the battle between the Storm-god and the Serpent would indeed be interpreted as a battle between the forces that provide water to humanity, embodied by the Storm-god, and the forces that want to deprive it of water, embodied by the Serpent. The struggle between the opposing forces would then be a struggle between life and death, between drought and abundance.

36 See Gilan 2013 for an overview on the most important studies on this text.

37 See the translation of Pecchioli Daddi (Pecchioli Daddi, Polvani 1990: 51-52): ‘(15’) Inara [ritornò?] nella città di Kiškil[ušša] per porre [nella] mano del re la sua casa [e il fiume] delle acque abissali – motivo per cui celebriamo la prima festa del purulli – e la mano [del re terrà la casa] (20’) di Inara e il fi[ume] delle acque abissali.’

38 For this reading, see Pecchioli Daddi, Polvani 1990: 50.

39 Cf. Taracha 2009: 136 n. 796 with references to the works of Haas 1970: 43 ff.; 1988; 1994: 696 ff.; Popko 1995; Hoffner 2007: 122, 130 ff.

40 Consider, however, that these assumed ties have been questioned in some studies (cf. Gilan 2013).

41 On the hypothesis that the Illuyanka myth was performed during the ceremony, see Taracha 2009: 137 n. 802 (with previous literature); see also Gilan 2013: 104-105 (with references).

42 Consider, in connection to this assumption, also the role of Inara as tutelary deity of Ḫattuša (see Hoffner 2007: 126-128; on Inara, see Taracha 2009: 42-43, with references).

43 See Pecchioli Daddi, Polvani 1990: 43: ‘La vicenda mitica che si apre con la scelta di Ḫupašiya e si chiude con l’attribuzione del controllo delle acque al sovrano ittita, può, a mio avviso, essere letta come la rappresentazione simbolica dell’istituzione della regalità ittita. Ḫupašiya (…) viene meno ai suoi compiti commettendo un peccato e diventando impuro (…). A questo punto Inara consegna la sua casa e il controllo delle acque sotterranee all’unico uomo legittimato alla regalità, il sovrano ittita appunto.’ See however Gilan 2013: 107-108.

44 See the translation of the final section of the first version of the myth offered by Gilan 2013: 107: ‘Inara [went] to Kiškil[ušša] and put her house [as well as the river] of the watery abyss [into] the hand of the king. Because of that (or since then) we are celebrating the first Purulli festival – May the hand of the [king . . . the house] of Inara as well as the river of the watery abyss.’ Compare this translation with that proposed by Pecchioli Daddi 1990: 51-52 (see above n. 37).

45 Consider also that in a contribution devoted to the analysis of some features of the mythological texts of Hattian origin, C. Mora (1979: 374-375), taking up and expanding on a suggestion of H.G. Güterbock (1978: 248), put forward the hypothesis that there could have been many versions of myths of Hattian origin, and that these versions could have been different from one to the other according to locations. In this sense, it is perhaps possible that there was a kind of canvas for these ‘tales of the gods,’ which were susceptible to variations, both in form and content. The frequent mention of different cities or rivers in these myths could be linked, according to Mora (1979: 375), to this aspect.

46 Consider also that the geographical location of the monument, right in the area overlooking the region of Tarḫuntašša, could represent an additional clue for the attribution of this work to Tuthaliya IV, especially if one takes into account the conflicting relations between the two regions in the late 13th century BC (see the considerations by Erbil 2019).

47 In this regard, another aspect of interest should be mentioned. According to Pecchioli Daddi, Polvani 1990: 47, the loss of prestige and power on the part of the Storm-god – at the beginning of the Illuyanka tale – allows us to trace this myth to the motif of the disappearance of the god. In fact, just like in mythological texts that tell of the disappearance of a god, the Storm-god, whose power has been diminished by his defeat in the confrontation with the Serpent, is no longer able to bestow the rain that is necessary for agropastoral activities. The duties of the Storm-god are then fulfilled by Mount Zali(ya)nu, which provides the necessary water; the rain in the first version and spring water in the second version. Therefore, it seems that, due to the weakness of the Storm-god, the festival of purulli is celebrated precisely to ensure that the country will prosper even without the protection of its main deity. The king, to whom Inara has entrusted control of the groundwaters, and the other deities mentioned in the two versions of the myth are the ones charged with providing for the well-being of the country and its inhabitants in the absence of the Storm-god. (See however Hoffner 2007, on the fact that the Illuyanka myths does not share any elements with the myths of the disappearance of a god).

Maria Elena Balza, University of Pavia, Italy, mariaelena.balza@unipv.it, 0000-0002-8280-3653

Referee List (DOI 10.36253/fup_referee_list)

FUP Best Practice in Scholarly Publishing (DOI 10.36253/fup_best_practice)

Maria Elena Balza, The King Tutḫaliya IV, the Eflatunpınar Monument, and the River of the Watery Abyss, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4.05, in Clelia Mora, Giulia Torri (edited by), Administrative Practices and Political Control in Anatolian and Syro-Anatolian Polities in the 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE, pp. -51, 2023, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0042-4, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4

New ‘Excavations’ in the Pergamon-Museum and in the Gipsformerei of Berlin and New Elements for the Study of the Decorative Programme of Kammer B in Yazılıkaya1

Massimiliano Marazzi

Abstract: Based on the work conducted during winter 2017 both on casts of the Hittite reliefs exhibited at the Pergamon-Museum and the original matrices of the Humann casts (1892) kept at the Gipsformerei in Berlin/Charlottenburg, a series of results are presented regarding the sculptural decoration programme present in the Yazılıkaya rock sanctuary. In addition, the exhibition and publication of a series of casts of Hittite reliefs on the occasion of the exhibition Royaumes Oubliés, held in Paris in 2019, made it possible to provide some insights into the history of the casts made by E. Chantre on the occasion of his Mission en Cappadoce in 1893-94.

1. The project and the challenges

A German-Italian project for the three-dimensional survey of the monumental complexes found in Ḫattuša has been underway since 2014. Among its objectives – besides that of developing innovative techniques for conducting surveys and for the development of models – is the development of new procedures for analysis and treatment protocols in a virtual environment specifically for monumental inscriptions in hieroglyphic writing.2

As is well known, beginning with the reign of Tutḫaliya IV, a whole series of hieroglyphic inscriptions of a monumental nature appeared in the capital.3 Their appearance coincided with the new monumental layout of the northern area – the so-called Upper Town – and the transformations that brought the rock sanctuary of Yazılıkaya into the centre of a major initiative involving political-religious display.

Only two of the hieroglyphic inscriptions, the one on the wall of Kammer 2 in the Südburg area, and the one at Nişantaş, on the northeastern rocky wall of Nişantepe, are entirely preserved; they represent the consolidation of an innovation not only in terms of the use of the hieroglyphic writing system in Anatolia, but also from a ‘literary’ point of view.

Both inscriptions, attributable to the last Hittite dynast, Suppiluliuma II, confirm the process of ‘linearization’ of the writing system for the representation of syntactically ‘complex’ monumental texts that was inaugurated with the inscriptions of Yalburt and Emirgazi during the reign of Tutḫaliya IV and which is now firmly tied to a precise Luwian linguistic variant. At the same time, they also affirm the kind of composition that celebrates kingship wrapped in a religious framework that is already evident in the cuneiform texts with the so-called ‘Autobiography’ of Ḫattusili III.4

Different, but no less interesting, are the hieroglyphic inscriptions that accompany the sculptural decorations in the two natural chambers of the Yazılıkaya rock sanctuary. Like the hieroglyphic-sculptural rock compositions that began to appear between the end of the 14th and the beginning of the 13th century throughout the kingdom (such as those at Hanyeri or İmamkulu), they do not form an autonomous textual unit, but are closely linked in a compositional unit of an iconographic nature to the sculptural element they accompany.

In the case of Yazılıkaya, however, as has already been explained elsewhere,5 they participate in a ‘dynamic’ representation, a storytelling marked by the two divine sequences that meet on the back wall, which acts as a focus. While the ‘formal’ compositional level of the sculptural-geroglyphic narrative is marked by the sequence of the male and female divinities towards the point of conjunction, the political-religious level is characterised by the representation of the so-called ‘dynastisches Pantheon.’6

The interpretation of the narrative originally depicted in Kammer B of the sanctuary is more complex (on this see the discussion below, point 6).

2. The work carried out in 2017 in Berlin and the virtual restoration project

The purpose of the work carried out at the Pergamon Museum in Berlin and the Gipsformerei in Charlottenburg in December 2017 was twofold: first, to acquire three-dimensional models of both the casts exhibited in Room 1 of the Vorderasia­tische Sammlung and the original matrices made by C. Humann in 1882 in Yazılıkaya and housed in the Gipsformerei (see Tab. 1 and Fig. 2);7 and second, to reconstruct the history of the casts and matrices from their first exhibition in the Neues Museum in 1883 to their final placement in Room 1 of the Pergamon Museum after the Second World War.8

The importance of the Humann matrices and casts lies in the fact that at the time they were made, many sculptures and their hieroglyphic inscriptions were still in a much better state of preservation than they are today. In fact, in the course of Texier’s excavations in 1834 and Perrot’s excavations in 1861, many sculptures and their inscriptions were being brought to light for the first time in centuries and thus had not yet undergone any serious deterioration.9

Already a decade later, as can be seen from the graphic and photographic documentation collected by Chantre during his excavation and research campaign in 1893,10 the first processes of degradation are visible, especially on the surfaces of the sculptures in Kammer B unearthed by Perrot.

Paradigmatic examples of the changes that took place in the decades before and after the execution of the casts in both Kammer A and B are represented by the sculptural complex Y. 46a (Kammer A, procession of female deities), and by the relief Y. 81 (Kammer B, eastern wall).

In the first case (see Fig. 1) both the sculpture and the corresponding inscription Y. 46a were still in situ (although already partially damaged) at the time of Ch. Texier’s expedition in 1834, as evidenced by the drawing on Pl. 75 (although a little fanciful, but clear for the identification of the glyphs) of the wall immediately opposite the central scene, which houses sculptures 46a, 47 and 48 (here in Fig. 1, top left).

Already in the summer of 1861, when G. Perrot’s mission reached Ḫattuša, the wall in question appeared to be severely degraded. According to the description and sketch (here Fig. 1 in the second line) given by the French scholar,11 the upper part of the headdress of the female figure 46a was still barely visible, while the inscription was still completely preserved.

Just three years later, in 1864, H.J. Van Lennep, on the occasion of his visit to the site,12 commissioned a sketch of the same wall (here Fig. 1, top right) from which it is clear that sculpture 46a had by then disappeared entirely, so much so that in the drawing in question the inscription accompanying the disappeared sculpture is erroneously represented as being very close to the subsequent sculpture Y. 47, almost as if it were an integral part of it. From the sketch – albeit imprecise – provided by the American scholar, one can also see that the same portion of the wall containing the inscription is beginning to show signs of cracking.

Eighteen years after Van Lennep’s visit, C. Humann arrived at Yazılıkaya and executed 11 matrices of the reliefs found there (identified here in Tab. 1).13 Among these was the inscription of sculpture 46a, which has now definitively disappeared due to the subsidence of the rock face (see here Fig. 1 in the centre).

In the first systematic photographic survey carried out by K. Bittel and published in 1934, it can clearly be seen that in the decades following the Humann cast, a good half of the inscription was also definitively lost (see Fig. 1, below; the collapsed area of the inscription is marked by a black line).14

The cast Y. 46a, no longer exhibited at the beginning of the 1930s (cf. Fig. 2), when the Humann collection found its final home in the new Pergamon building, disappeared into oblivion.

Only E. Laroche, in his seminal contribution on the Yazılıkaya inscriptions, published in 1969, refers, not to the cast, but to the sketch presented by Humann in his 1890 publication, and to the drawing made by W. Ramsay (around the same time as Humann) and taken up and published by G. Perrot in 1887.15

H.G. Güterbock ignores the existence of the cast in the Gipsformerei in Berlin both in the 1975 edition of the inscriptions16 and in the 1982 revision,17 where he adds on p. 42, n. 35: ‘In Humann-Puchstein, Reisen, p. 64 with n. 2 [i.e. Humann, Puchstein 1890!] Puchstein speaks of a cast of this inscription … Does this cast still exist?.’

However, in 1962, the Gipsformerei catalogue had just been reissued in an updated form with the cast in question and all the references to its history.18 After the ‘rediscovery’ of the original cast in the Gipsformerei in 2017, three-dimensional scanning made it possible, through an interpolation procedure between the model of the cast and that of the wall surveyed in situ, to carry out an ‘electronic restoration’ and exactly relocate the lost part of the inscription (Fig. 4).

In the case of Y. 81 in Kammer B, the relief was still partially buried when it was identified and drawn by Ch. Texier’s expedition in 1834 (cf. here Fig. 4).19 In 1861 the mission headed by G. Perrot carried out a series of tests to lower the ground level of Kammer B and to expose the sculptures there.20 It was therefore possible for the first time to completely uncover Y. 81, as is clear from the photographic documentation of the time (here in Fig. 4).21

The sculpture was in excellent condition, with the faces and bodies of both King Tutḫaliya and the god Šarruma perfectly preserved. When C. Humann cast it two decades later, in 1882, it was possible to fix this state of preservation of the artefact (here, in Fig. 4, the 3D model of the cast on display at the Pergamon).22

In 1893-94, E. Chantre started excavating again in Kammer B in order to finally clear the soil that had accumulated along the walls, partly due to a partial covering for conservation purposes carried out by Perrot himself.23

This intervention led to a further exposure of the reliefs there to atmospheric agents, accelerating the process of degradation already indicated by Perrot.24 The sketch of Y. 81 published by Chantre (here in Fig. 4)25 and the slightly later photographic evidence of A. Boissier (here in Fig. 4)26 already show the beginning of the process of crumbling of the surface of the sculpture of both the incumbent leg of the god and the king’s face. The process of degradation of these two parts of the sculpture is clear from the subsequent photographic documentation published by both J. Garstang in 1910 and K. Bittel in 1934.27

Here too, the 3D models of both the Humann matrices and the casts (cf. the particular the casts of the two points of Y. 81 rendered by the 3D model in Fig. 5) will make it possible, as in the case of Inscription Y. 46a, to undertake a virtual restoration process.

3. The twelfth Humann cast

Among the casts that were not exhibited in the Pergamon in 1939 is number 12.28 The history of its exhibition ends with the exhibition of the casts organised between 1883 and 1899 in the Neues Museum, in the so-called Babylonische Saal (Amtl. Berichte 1883):

H. 12 = VAG (6)67 = Gipsformerei 1194 (entry in 1893); in Verzeichnis 1: G.53; in Verzeichnis 2: Nr. 223; in Verzeichnis 3: no 234; in Verzeichnis 4: no 280.

Since then, as was the case with cast Y. 46a, it has remained ‘buried’ in the storerooms of the Gipsformerei, in whose last online catalogue it is inventoried as “Ädikula, bestehend aus Flügelsonne und Schriftzeichen; Standort: Kleinasien, wahrscheinlich Ḫattuša (heute Boğazkale), Yazılıkaya, Felsheiligtum.”

Yet a careful reading of the catalogue published at the time by C. Humann29 would have been sufficient to know that the cast comes from the Nişantaş inscription, to which the scholar not only makes direct reference, but even cites the photograph (perhaps the first in the history of Hittitological research) published at the time by Perrot (and reproduced here in Fig. 6).30

Fig. 6. Original photo of the Nişantaş inscription taken by G. Perrot in 1861.

This tragic inaccuracy has moved from publication to publication, until the very recent essay, which is also very well documented with regard to Humann casts, by E. Rehm (2018), which reads: ‘Yazılıkaya, Tempelchen,’ with n. 694 “Was hier abgeklatscht wurde ist mir unklar. Das Motiv lässt sich nicht identifizeren” (Rehm 2018: 151).31

Placed in its original context, as already clearly indicated by C. Humann, it is clear that this is the right-hand beginning of the first line and the underlying end of the second line; the ‘Tempelchen’ is none other than the aedicula with the name of Suppiluliuma II (here Fig. 7).

Also in this case the cast was essential for the correct restitution in autograph of the end of the second line.

4. The exhibition of Humann casts in Room 1 of the Vorderasiatisches Museum at Pergamon: One more cast?

The exhibition of Hittite casts in Room 1 of the Pergamon’s Vorderasiatisches Museum thus includes 10 of the original 12 casts/matrices made by C. Humann in Ḫattuša: 11 in Yazılıkaya, 1 in Nişantaş. However, there are 11 casts on display, since on the long wall in front of the entrance, in the upper part there is a cast of a famous rock relief from the time of Ḫattušili III: that of Fıraktin (here, at Fig. 8 a photo of Room 1 during the 2017 survey work: highlighted with black border is the cast of Fıraktin).

In contrast to the Humann casts, no information can be found for this specific cast: in the Gipsformerei the matrix and its cast have never been recorded (nor are they even present, at least on the basis of a thorough survey of the ancient Near Eastern reproductions conducted by the writer in 2017). The registers, beginning with that of 1889 and the detailed one of 1902, up to the 2018 edition and the current electronic one, contain no trace of them.32 In the various guides to the Museum prior to the Second World War (the 1937 guide is the most reliable)33 there is no trace of this artefact.

It appears, without any indication of its provenance, for the first time in R.G. Meyer’s guide of 1956, reprinted without particular updates in 1962; only in the last guide edited by S. Jakob-Rost in 1990 it is stated: ‘Bereits im Jahre 1882 besuchte C. Humann die Ruinenstatte Boğazköy und nahm von den Felsreliefs von Yazılıkaya und dem in der Nahe liegenden Fıraktin Formen ab. Diese wurden später in Berlin in Gips ausgegossen und sind jetzt in Raum 1 des Vorderasiatischen Museums ausgestellt’.34

Humann’s work at Boğazköy actually took place in 1882, while the Fıraktin inscription was first reported by W.G. Ramsay and D.G. Hogarth ten years later in 1893,35 based on a survey carried out in 1890. Three years later, in 1893, the site was visited by E. Chantre, who reported on it in his Mission en Cappadoce,36 where he stated: ‘Nous décidons à photographier en détail ces sculptures et surtout à les mouler, travail qui nous prit deux jours’ (Chantre 1898: 126). Later, in 1907, the site was visited by H. Grothe, who claims to have conducted a series of ‘sorgfältige Abklatschen’ (i.e. not Gipsformen), which he sent to Messerschmidt.37 In his CIH (1900) the latter takes up the story of the discovery, mentioning that the forms made by E. Chantre are supposed to be in the Guimet Museum in Paris.38

From what has been said so far, the cast of Fıraktin exhibited at the Pergamon is certainly not to be counted among the Humann casts (it is not even mentioned in Rehm’s recent work 2018), nor is it mentioned in the 1937 exhibition. Its appearance and location in Room 1 can undoubtedly be traced back to the restoration and reorganisation of the Pergamon building immediately after the war. It is therefore possible that the cast in question (a copy from the matrix made by E. Chantre and kept in a Parisian museum) arrived in Berlin during the war years, was stored in the storerooms, and was found and exhibited together with the Humann casts in the 1950s.

An unexpected confirmation came in 2019, on the occasion of the exhibition Royaumes oubliés. De l’empire hittite aux Araméens, held in Paris at the Musée du Louvre.39 On this occasion, Chantre’s casts made at Alaca Höyük and Fıraktin during his mission in 1893 were exhibited.40 In Fig. 9 we present an image of the 3D model of the cast exhibited at Pergamon together with the photo of the cast exhibited in 2019 in Paris.

5. The Exhibition Royaumes Oubliés: a new Chantre cast?

With the publication of the exhibition catalogue, however, a second problem arises. On p. 78-79, next to the photo of the three parts that make up the Fıraktin cast (nos 30-32), a fourth cast is presented in no. 33, relating to the relief Y. 81, mentioned above. The photo does not appear to be that of a cast, but directly of the relief in situ; the catalogue comment reads: ‘Ce moulage, exécuté par Ernest Chantre lors de ses missions archéologiques en Cappadoce en 1893 et 1894, provient d’un relief de la chambre B du sanctuaire de Yazılıkaya, situé à côté de la capitale hittite.’ However, if one reads the text of Chantre 1898 carefully, one can see that the scholar, who always notes precisely the casts made, does not mention any casts made in Yazılıkaya at all. On the other hand, a careful analysis of the photo of the supposed cast shows that both the king’s face and the elbow of the god’s left arm (the photo is partial) show clear traces of strong dete­rioration (cf. here Fig. 10).

From the graphic documentation by Chantre and photographic documentation by Boissier (who accompanied Chantre during the Mission and took a number of interesting photos), we know with certainty that, at the time of the Chantre Mission, these two points of the sculpture were still in good condition (see comparison in Fig. 10).

Consequently, only two explanations are possible: either the image of the supposed moulage is wrong (in which case it should be checked whether indeed Louvre AOmg 42 corresponds to the cast in question, but in the photographic credits cat. no. 33 corresponds not to the Louvre, as is the case with the Alaca and Fıraktin casts, but to a London reference; cf. p. 449); or there is no Chantre cast of this Yazılıkaya relief and both the catalogue photo and the commentary are the result of a misunderstanding on the part of the editors.

6. Kammer B, problems and new developments

As is well known, the layout, sculptural programme and function of the so-called Kammer B are not completely clear, especially in relation to the diachronic development of the buildings in front of its possible entrances.41

The analysis conducted in the first organic edition of the sanctuary in 194142 was subject to a series of revisions in the second edition of 1975, especially regarding the hypothesis of an original entrance to Kammer B from the south.43

It was suggested by R. Naumann in Yazılıkaya 1 that the entrance to Kammer B was originally represented by its southward extension, where there was an external entrance ramp. The shifting of a section of rock from the east wall would have obstructed this passage and led to the opening of the new passage from the west (still existing today) along the north wall of Kammer B. The existence of an original entrance from the south was confirmed by the sculptural decoration of the walls: the figures represented there are oriented from south to north, thus, like those in Kammer A, from the hypothetical entrance to the north end wall; this change also justified the new orientation of the building in front of it (Building Phase IV), adapted in this final phase as principal access to the new western entrance to Kammer B (Fig. 11 shows the graphic representation of the two hypothetical phases).

This diachronic reconstruction was discarded in the 1975 edition on the basis of new stratigraphic observations of the soil underneath the rock occluding the supposed southern entrance. According to the new reconstruction, the rock occluding the presumed southern entrance would have been present there since the beginning of the use of Kammer B and the western entrance would have always been the only entrance to the chamber.

In 1989, however, P. Neve returned to the problem;44 he underlined the inconsistency of the stratigraphic evidence exposed in Yazılıkaya 2, and proposed again a diachronic sequence of the entrances in accordance with the changes characterising the external buildings.45

A second question concerns the function and significance of the quadrangular base in front of the north wall: whether it is the base of a statue (and if so, whether it is related to the statue base found in the nearby village of Yekbas), or whether it is the base of an altar. Many scholars have linked this base with a presumed statue of King Tutḫaliya IV attested in KBo 12.38, according to which Šuppiluliuma II, his son, erected the statue in a sanctuary in honour of the deceased dynast (na4hé-gur SAG.UŠ). According to this hypothesis, the function of Kammer B would have been, at least in its final phase, that of the funerary sanctuary in honour of Tutḫaliya IV.

Although this hypothesis remains valid (especially on the basis of the subjects represented by the sculptural decorations and the accompanying inscriptions),46 the hypothesis of the presence of a statue of the deceased king remains very doubtful, especially in view of a recent revision of the cuneiform text.47

In any case, an overall view of the sculptural programme remains difficult. The series of 12 chthonic deities (Y. 69-80) running from the south to the north along the western wall is interrupted where one or more decorated blocks were originally placed – whether or not one accepts the hypothesis of a single entrance from the west (cf. the plans in Fig. 11). The same problem arises for the eastern wall, where the ‘window’ now present between reliefs Y. 82 (the so-called ‘Schwertgott’) and Y. 83 (the aedicula of Tutḫaliya IV, strangely placed at ‘relief height’) was certainly covered by one or two decorated orthostats, with which the aedicula of Tutḫaliya IV (Y. 83), placed high up, must have been connected.

Already during the petrographic investigations conducted in 2018 on the Yazılıkaya reliefs, anomalies were noted along a section of the east wall of Chamber B. The wall between the representation of the ‘sword god’ and the window due to a crack in the rock, to the left of which follows the aedicule of Tutḫaliya IV, appears to have been carefully prepared by polishing already in the Hittite period. This preparation corresponds to that of the backgrounds of the surfaces with sculptural decoration.

This surface is connected to that of the ‘sword god,’ but its lower part is about 30 cm higher than that of the ‘sword god’ itself, thus forming a sort of step (cf. here in Fig. 12 the situation of the east wall on the basis of the model generated by orthophotogrammetry).

On it, thus to the left of the relief of the ‘sword god,’ a sort of slight bulge can still be seen with the naked eye under particularly favourable light conditions. This bulge covers the entire prepared surface in height and is approximately 40 cm wide. Since this part of the eastern wall of Kammer B was the last to be excavated and its surface can only be observed in detail under special light conditions, it was only in 1941 that K. Bittel noticed the above-mentioned anomaly and postulated the possibility of traces of an ‘unfinished’ sculpture, perhaps to be connected with the (probably sculptured) blocks that must have covered the ‘gap/window’ between the ‘sword god’ and the aedicula of Tutḫaliya IV.48

K. Bittel himself returned to the subject of the possible ‘unfinished’ sculpture in his 1975 publication and, while not excluding the possibility of a figure oriented towards the left, he confirmed, by observing the traces of work on the wall at the two edges of the ‘window,’ that it must originally have been covered by one or more decorated orthostats that have now been lost (here in Fig. 13 the photograph presented in Yazılıkaya 2, Pl. 47, 1, taken in particularly favourable lighting conditions).49

A different interpretation is given by P. Neve in his already mentioned 1989 contribution. According to Neve, who does not consider the problem of the closure of the ‘window’ and therefore does not examine the hypothesis that the sculptural decoration originally present there could be linked to the strange presence of the aedicula of Tutḫaliya IV at the left edge of the ‘window,’ the apparent ‘unfinished’ sculpture is nothing more than an initial outline of the sculpture of the ‘sword god,’ later abandoned and relocated further to the right (where it is today) due to the poor state of the rock surface at that point.

In order to clarify whether the traces of a possible (unfinished?) sculpture could be compatible with an initial carving of the ‘Schwertgott,’ as postulated by P. Neve, or whether they were, on the contrary, attributable to a different sculptural representation, as suggested by K. Bittel, it was decided, during the 2019 campaign, to carry out both an accurate photogrammetric survey and a dynamic structured light scan of the entire portion of the east wall. The models generated in this way clearly show that the rock surface retains actual traces of a further relief.50

Although it is not possible to exclude with certainty that the ‘unfinished’ state of the relief was intentional (or, as the location of the wall would lead one to believe, that the state of severe deterioration was due to a long period of erosion of the wall at this point), the contours offered by the surveys carried out appear to indicate a female figure oriented towards the left, i.e. in the direction of the ‘window’ where, at the time, the sculptural decoration was to continue on the orthostats placed to close it, now unfortunately lost (Fig. 14 shows a series of images of the structured light scanning model visualised in a virtual environment under different light conditions, orientation and according to different degrees of ‘stretching’). This female figure, the traces of se polos appear to be discernible, shows, also on the basis of the shape of the dress, a close similarity to relief Y. 47 (comparison here in Fig. 15). Furthermore, the model of the wall shows, as already noted by K. Bittel, the points of insertion of the orthostat at the inner left and right margins of the ‘window.’

Finally, in relation to the problems of Kammer B in Yazılıkaya, a geo-structural and geo-static research programme began in 2021 in collaboration with the Department of Earth Sciences of the Federico II University in Naples. The project, which over time will involve two other sample areas, that of Nişantepe and that of the gorge between Ambarlıkaya and Büyükkaya, provides for the collection of data on the geomorphological and static peculiarities of the rock formations that will be mapped on special three-dimensional models gene­rated by TOF laser scanner surveys conducted in parallel with the geological investigation.

This three-dimensional mapping will have a twofold purpose: on the one hand, to identify the critical situations that exist today (synchronic risk map); and on the other, to determine the changes that have characterised the degradation of the rock faces over time (diachronic map of variations). The latter, which is of particular interest to us here, will provide valuable information on the original appearance of the spaces and any na­tural or human-induced changes that may have altered their organisation – in the case of Yazılıkaya this applies also to the changes that appear to characterise the different phases of the built-up area in front of the entrance to the natural chambers (Fig. 16).

Abbrevations

Amtl. Berichte 1883 = Königliche Museen in Berlin. B. Sammlungen der Skulpturen und Gipsabgüsse, Abt. der antiken Skulpturen, Amtliche Berichte aus den Königlichen Kunstsammlungen 4, 1883, LV-LVI.

CIH = Messerschmidt L. 1900, Corpus Inscriptionum Hettiticarum, Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatischen Gesellschaft 4, Berlin, Wolf Peiser Verlag.

Kat. 1962 = Katalog der Originalabgüsse, H. 3: Vorderasien, Freiplastiken und Reliefs, Berlin, Gipsformerei der Staatlichen Museen Preuß. Kulturbesitz, 1962.

Kat. 2007 = Katalog der Originalabgüsse, H. 3: Vorderasien, Freiplastiken und Reliefs, neue Auflage, Berlin, Gipsformerei der Staatlichen Museen Preuß. Kulturbesitz, 2007.

Kat. 2018= On-line Katalog der Gipsformerei:

<https://www.gipsformerei-katalog.de/sammlungsgebiete/ vorderasien/?p=1>

Royaumes = Blanchard V. (ed.) 2019, Royaumes Oubliés. De l’empire hittite aux Araméens, Paris, Musée du Louvre.

VAM 1937 = Führer durch die Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin. Die Vorderasiatische Abteilung 1937, Berlin, Vorderasiatisches Museum.

VAM 1956 = Mayer G.R. (ed.) 1956, Durch vier Jahrtausende altvorderasiatischer Kultur, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Vorderasiatisches Museum.

VAM 1990 = see Jakob-Rost 1990.

Verzeichnis 1 = Verzeichnis der Vorderasiatischen Altertümer und Gipsabgüsse, Königliche Museen zu Berlin, Generalverwaltung, Berlin, Spermann, 1889.

Verzeichnis 2 = Verzeichnis der in der Formerei der königlichen Museen käuflichen Gipsabgüsse, Königliche Museen zu Berlin, Generalverwaltung, Berlin, Spermann, 1902.

Verzeichnis 3 = Verzeichnis der in der Formerei der königlichen Museen käuflichen Gipsabgüsse, Königliche Museen zu Berlin, Generalverwaltung, Berlin, Spermann, 1906.

Verzeichnis 4 = Verzeichnis der in der Formerei der königlichen Museen käuflichen Gipsabgüsse, Königliche Museen zu Berlin, Generalverwaltung, Berlin, Spermann, 1914.

Y. + Number = Numbering of the reliefs and their accompanying inscriptions in Yazılıkaya, Chamber A and B (cf. Seeher 2011).

Yazılıkaya 1 = Bittel K., Naumann R., Otto H. 1941, Yazılıkaya. Architektur, Felsbilder, Inschriften und Kleinfunde, Leipzig – Berlin, J.C. Hinrichs.

Yazılıkaya 2 = Bittel K., Boesseneck J., Damm B., Güterbock H.G., Hauptmann H., Naumann R., Schirmer W. 1975, Das hethitische Felsheiligtum Yazılıkaya, Berlin, Gebr. Mann.

References

Bittel K. 1934, Die Felsbilder von Yazılıkaya. Neue Aufnahmen der Deutschen Boğazköy-Expedition 1931, Istanbuler Forschungen 5, Bamberg, Abteilung Istanbul des Archäologischen Institutes des Deutschen Reiches.

Boissier A. 1897, En Cappadoce. Notes de voyage, Genéve, Rey et Malavallon.

Bolatti Guzzo N., Marazzi M. 2004, Storiografia hittita e geroglifico anatolico: per una revisione di KBo 12.38, in D. Groddek, S. Rößle (eds), Šarnikzel. Hethitologische Studien zum Gedenken an Emil Orgetorix Forrer, Dresdner Beiträge zur Hethitologie 10, Dresden, Harrassowitz: 155-185.

Bolatti Guzzo N., Marazzi M. 2022, Some reflections on the Nişantaş inscription and related issues, in G. Bartolini, M.G. Biga, Not Only History. Proceedings of the Conference in Honor of Mario Liverani Held in Sapienza-Università di Roma, Dipartimento di Scienze dell’Antichità, 20-21 April 2009, Münster, Ugarit-Verlag: 500-520.

Chantre E. 1898, Mission en Cappadoce 1893-1894, Paris, Ernest Lerou.

Crüsemann N. 2000, Vom Zweistromland zum Kupfergraben. Vorgeschichte und Entstehungsjahre (1899-1918) der Vorderasiatischen Abteilung der Berliner Museen vor fach- und kulturpolitischen

Hintergründen, Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen 22, Berlin, Gebr. Mann Verlag.

Garstang J. 1910, The Land of the Hittites, London, Constable.

Grothe H. 1911, Meine Vorderasienexpedition 1906 und 1907, I/1: Die fachwissenschaftlichen Ergebnisse, Leipzig, Hiersemann.

Güterbock H.G. 1982, Les hiéroglyphes de Yazılıkaya. À propos d’un travail récent, Paris, Édition Recherche sur les Civilisations.

Humann C., Puchstein, O. 1890, Reisen in Kleinasien und Nordsyrien, ausgeführt im Auftrage der Königlichen Preussischen Akademie, Berlin, Reimer.

Hutter M. 2021, Religionsgeschichte Anatoliens: Vom Ende des dritten bis zum Beginn des ersten Jahrtausends, Stuttgart, Kohlhammer.

Jakob-Rost L. 1990, Das Vorderasiatische Museum, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Laroche E. 1969, Les dieux de Yazılıkaya, Revue Hittite et Asianique 84-85: 61-109.

Marazzi M. 2010, Scrittura, percezione e cultura: qualche riflessione sull’Anatolia in età hittita, KASKAL 7: 219-225.

Marazzi M. 2018, Il “Progetto Hattusa”: una cooperazione italo-tedesca per la sperimentazione di nuove tecnologie applicate all’archeologia e all’epigrafia anatolica, in M. Betrò, S. de Martino, G. Miniaci, F. Pinnock (eds), Egitto e Vicino Oriente antichi: tra passato e futuro. Studi e ricerche sull’Egitto e il Vicino Oriente in Italia, I convegno nazionale 2017, Pisa, Pisa University Press.

Marazzi M. 2019, Schriftlichkeit und königliche Zelebration in Hattusa gegen Ende des 13. Jh. v. Chr. Über die sogenannten „langen“ Hieroglypheninschriften, in N. Bolatti Guzzo, P. Taracha (eds), “And I Knew Twelve Languages”. A Tribute to Massimo Poetto on the Occasion of His 70th Birthday, Warsaw, Agade Bis: 332-355.

Marazzi M. 2020, Neue “Ausgrabungen” im Vorderasiatischen Museum und in der Gipsformerei zu Berlin, in S. de Martino, E. Devecchi (eds), Anatolia Between the 13th and the 12th century BCE, Eothen 23, Firenze, LoGisma: 177-208.

Marazzi M., Bolatti Guzzo N., Pepe C., Repola L., Tilia S.S. 2018, Die Arbeiten im Pergamon-Museum und in der Gipsformerei in Berlin, Archäologischer Anzeiger 2018/1: 56-64.

Marazzi M., Pepe C., Schachner A. 2019, La cooperazione italo-tedesca a Hattusa: un progetto integrato per lo sviluppo di nuove tecnologie dedicate allo studio della storia culturale hittita/ Hattuşa’da Alman-italyan işbirliği. Hitit kültür tarihi araştırmasında yeni teknolojilerin geliştirilmesine dair tümleşik proje, Arkeoloji ve Sanat 160: 53-72.

Marazzi M., Bolatti Guzzo N., Pepe C., Repola L., Schachner A., Tilia S.S. 2019-2020, HATTUSA. German-Italian research in Hattusa, News from the Lands of the Hittites 3-4: 169-250.

Marazzi M., Bolatti Guzzo N., Pepe C., Repola L. 2020, 3D-Scanning im Großen Tempel, Yazılıkaya, Nişantaşı und dem Löwentor, Archäologischer Anzeiger 2020/1: 48-56.

Meyer G.R. 1956, Durch vier Jahrtausende altvorderasiatischer Kultur, Berlin, Vorderasiatisches Museum.

Neve P. 1989, Einige Bemerkungen zu der Kammer B in Yazılıkaya, in K. Emre, M. Mellink, N. Özgüç (eds), Anatolia and the Ancient Near East. Studies in Honor of Tahsin Özgüç, Ankara, Anadolu Medeniyetlerini Araştırma ve Tanıtma Vakfı Yayınları: 345-355.

Perrot G. 1872, Exploration archéologique de la Galatie et de la Bithynie, Paris, Librairie de Firmin Didot Frères.

Ramsay M.W., Hogarth D.G. 1893, Prehellenic Monuments of Cappadocia, Recueil de Travaux relatifs à la philologie et à l’archéologie égyptiennes et assyriennes 14: 74-94.

Rehm E. 2018, Wertvolle Kopien. Gipsabgüsse altorientalischer Denkmäler in Deutschland, Münster, Zaphon.

Rehm E. 2020, Wertvolle Kopien. Gipsabgüsse altorientalischer Denkmäler in Deutschland. Supplement, Münster, Zaphon.

Schachner A. 2020, The 14th and 13th centuries BC in the Hittite Capital City Hattuša: A (Re-) Assessment, in S. de Martino, E. Devecchi (eds), Anatolia Between the 13th and the 12th century BCE, Eothen 23, Firenze, LoGisma: 381-410.

Seeher J. 2011, Gods Carved in Stone. The Hittite Rock Sanctuary of Yazılıkaya, İstanbul, Ege Yayınları.

Texier Ch. 1839, Description de l’Asie Mineure. Premier Volume, Paris, Librairie de Firmin Didot Frères.

Van Lennep H.J. 1870, Travels in Little-Known Parts of Asia Minor, London, John Murray.

1 This contribution follows from, and complements, two previous works on the same topic: Marazzi et al. 2018 and Marazzi 2020. It also illustrates a set of additional data acquired during the research campaigns of the Ḫattuša Mission from 2018 to 2021.

2 On the work carried out as part of the project, see the reports published in Archäologischer Anzeiger 2016: 24-42; 2018: 54-66; 2019: 97-107; 2020: 47-56. Cf. also Marazzi 2018, Marazzi et al. 2019; Marazzi et al. 2019-2020.

3 On this topic, see Marazzi 2019; more generally, on the urban structure of Ḫattuša in the second half of the 13th century, see the picture offered in Schachner 2020.

4 In this regard, we refer to what has already been discussed in Bolatti Guzzo, Marazzi 2004, Marazzi 2010, and, recently, Bolatti Guzzo, Marazzi 2022.

5 See Marazzi 2010.

6 On the meaning of ‘dynastisches Pantheon’ see the recent discussion in Hutter 2021: 189-192.

7 See Humann, Puchstein 1890, in particular 54-71, Pls VII-X.

8 See n. 1 and Amtl. Berichte 1883.

9 On the Texier and Perrot missions to Yazılıkaya see Texier 1839: 209-233, Pls 72-81; Perrot 1872: 321-338, 352-359 (Explication des planches), Pls 34-52.

10 Chantre 1898: 13-64, Pls I-V.

11 Pl. 48, top; see in particular the commentary to Pl. 48 on p. 358.

12 Cf. Van Lennep 1870: 114-126, in particular the figure on p. 120.

13 Humann, Puchstein 1890, in particular 56-71.

14 Bittel 1934.

15 Cf. Laroche 1969, in particular 89-91 and Fig. 29; Perrot 1887: 704 f., where, however, the French scholar refers directly to the existence of the cast.

16 Yazılıkya 2: 179 f.

17 Güterbock 1982.

18 Cf. Kat. 1962, with subsequent reprints Kat. 2007 and Kat. 2018; today the catalogue can be consulted in its electronic version at <https://www.gipsformerei-katalog.de>.

19 Texier 1839, Vol. 1: 218 and Pl. 79.

20 Perrot 1872: 334 ff.

21 Perrot 1872: Pl. 51.

22 Humann, Puchstein 1890: 67 ff. and Pl. IX, in the middle, where the cast is shown.

23 Chantre 1898: 16 ff., and 24.

24 Cf. Perrot 1872: 330.

25 Cf. Chantre 1898: 21 and Pl. 16

26 Boissier 1897: 5.

27 Garstang 1910: Pl. LXXI; Bittel 1934: XXVIII.

28 Humann, Puchstein 1890: 70.

29 Humann, Puchstein 1890: 70, sub 12.

30 Perrot 1872, Vol. 2: Pl. 35.

31 In Rehm 2020, thus subsequent to Marazzi et al. 2018, there is no further mention of the cast.

32 Cf. Verzeichnis 1 and Verzeichnis 2.

33 Cf. VAM 1937.

34 Cf. VAM 1956/62, VAM 1990, in particular 59 f.

35 Ramsay, Hogarth 1893: 82 with photo on Pl. VI.

36 Chantre 1898: 125-129, with a photo in Fig. 92.

37 Grothe 1911: 266-268.

38 CIH 25 f.

39 Royaumes 2019.

40 Royaumes: 76-79: Musée du Louvre AOmg 55: 66, 70; Chantre 1898: XII, 2-3 (casts of Alaca), 125-129 (relief of Fıraktin).

41 The subject was discussed by the author on the occasion of the ‘XII Archaeology Conference of the Italian Cultural Institute of Istanbul,’ November 2021, in the context of the communication ‘Le sculture di Yazılıkaya: nuove “letture” delle volumetrie sulla base delle recenti rilevazioni.’ A recent overview of the subject is offered in Seeher 2011: 117, 159-164.

42 Cf. Yazılıkaya 1, in particular 17.

43 Cf. Yazılıkaya 2, in particular 45.

44 Cf. Neve 1989.

45 In his new monograph on Yazılıkaya Seeher (2011) opts for the reconstruction proposed in Yazılıkaya 2.

46 Cf. Neve 1989; an interesting planimetric comparison is now suggested by Schachner 2016: 3 with n. 10-13 (with further bibliographical references), on the basis of the very recent excavations of the Kesikkaya complex.

47 In this regard see Bolatti Guzzo, Marazzi 2004 and 2022.

48 Yazılıkaya 1: 103.

49 Yazılıkaya 2: 164.

50 See the report in Marazzi et al. 2020.

Massimiliano Marazzi, Suor Orsola Benincasa University, Italy, masmarazzi@yahoo.it

Referee List (DOI 10.36253/fup_referee_list)

FUP Best Practice in Scholarly Publishing (DOI 10.36253/fup_best_practice)

Massimiliano Marazzi, New ‘Excavations’ in the Pergamon-Museum And In The Gipsformerei of Berlin and New Elements for the Study of the Decorative Programme of Kammer B in Yazilikaya, © Author(s), CC BY 4.0, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4.06, in Clelia Mora, Giulia Torri (edited by), Administrative Practices and Political Control in Anatolian and Syro-Anatolian Polities in the 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE, pp. -76, 2023, published by Firenze University Press, ISBN 979-12-215-0042-4, DOI 10.36253/979-12-215-0042-4

Fig. 1. Y. 46a: from the Texier drawing to the Bittel 1934 edition.

Tab 1. Diagram of all Humann casts made in Yazılıkaya in 1882 and published in Humann-Puchstein 1990.

1) S. Humann, Puchstein 1890, Crüsemann 2000; 2-3) Based on Verzeichnis 1-4, Amtl. Berichte 1883, Crüsemann 2000, Kat. 1962-1975, Kat. 2007, Kat. 2018.

Fig. 2. Humann casts from Yazılıkaya exhibited at the Pergamon-Museum and/or stored at the Gipsformerei in Berlin/Charlottenburg, with identification of their distribution in the rock sanctuary (H. = Humann cast number according to Humann-Puchstein 1890; G. = inventory number of the original matrix at the Gipsformerei).

Fig. 3. Top: 3D model (from scanning with structured light) of the wall with the remains of the inscriptions Y. 46a and Y. 47; bottom: 3D model of the wall with the remains of inscription Y. 46a and Y. 47 interpolated with the model of inscription Y. 46a from the scanning at the Gipsformerei in Berlin.

Fig. 4. Y. 81: from the Texier drawing to the edition in Bittel 1934.

Fig. 5. 3D models (from structured light scanning) of the two Humann forms relating to the arm of the god, the face of the king, and the right leg of the god.

Fig. 7. 3D model of the Humann cast of Nişantaş (top right); the Humann sketch of the main part of the cast with the aedicula of Suppiluliuma II (top centre); identification of the part of the Nişantaş inscription reproduced in the Humann cast (bottom; on model of the inscription derived by orthophogrammetry).

Fig. 8. Room 1 of the Vorderasiatisches Museum at Pergamon; in evidence the cast of Fıraktin displayed on the long left wall.

Fig. 9. Top: the three Chantre casts of Fıraktin exhibited on the occasion of the exhibition Royaumes Oubliés, Paris 2019 (from the Catalogue, on p. 78-79). Middle: 3D model (from structured light scanning) of the Fıraktin cast exhibited at Pergamon. Bottom: two details of the same model.

Fig. 10. Top: Boissier photo and Chantre drawing of Y. 81. Bottom: Photo taken from the Royaumes Oubliés exhibition catalogue of the presumed Chantre cast with evidence of damaged points after 1894.

Fig. 11. Diachronic reconstruction of the possible entrances into Kammer B and of the structures in front of it (elaboration on the planimetric basis in Seeher 2011); top: the phase of the entrance from the south; bottom: the later phase of the new entrance from the west.

Fig. 12. The status of the east wall of Kammer B (based on a model from the orthophographic survey).

Fig. 13. The east wall of Kammer B (from Yazılıkaya 2).

Fig. 14. The so-called “unfinished” relief: structured light scanning model, displayed in a virtual environment under different light conditions, orientation and “stretching” (200-300%).

Fig. 15. Comparison of the three-dimensional models of the so-called “unfinished relief” and Y. 47.

Fig. 16. Hattusa, 2022 campaign: start of geotechnical and geostructural surveys.

The Administration of Sacred Time in Hittite Anatolia

Francesco G. Barsacchi

Abstract: The nature of the administration of sacred time in Hittite Anatolia represents a complex problem, which has received little attention until recent years. This paper provides an overview of the topic, reconsidering the Hittite religious calendar as a whole and analysing some of the main issues connected with the Hittite calendrical system, such as the problem of the beginning of the year, the lunar nature of the Hittite month and the alleged existence of a system of intercalation.

1. Introduction

According to the well-known historian of religions A. Brelich, all calendrical studies seem to oscillate between two main interests: one that can be defined as historico-chronological, and one explicitly historico-religious (Brelich 2015: 35). Every calendrical system, indeed, displays two apparently independent aspects: a chronological aspect, since it represents essentially a form of time reckoning, and a religious one, since calendars are closely related to the celebration of festivals. The almost complete lack of administrative and economic documents from the Hittite archives (probably because this kind of sources were written on wooden writing boards) means that the only form of calendrical organisation that we can partially reconstruct for the Hittite society is the form that is reflected in the temporal setting of cult activities.1

The cult calendar of a society can be defined, with Brelich, as ‘a given ordering of public and periodic festivals in a chronological system’.2 When applied to ancient near eastern cultures, however, this very general definition demands some further explanations, since it contains a few problematic concepts, such as the use of the adjectives ‘public’ and ‘periodic.’ In the context of Hittite culture, all festivals that are documented in the sources available to us had a public character, not in the sense that they were open to everyone, but in the sense that their religious character was valid for the entire community.

More problematic is the definition of periodic festivals. In the context of modern western culture, all religious festivals can be defined as periodical: Sundays, e.g., come every seven days, and even moveable fests, such as Easter, depend on the repetition of solar, lunar and weekly periodicities. In the context of Hittite cult, however, religious festivals could have also an occasional nature and even individual natural phenomena such as thunder, or rain, could receive a religious sanction in the form of a festival celebration.3 In this respect, I find a comparison with the ancient Roman religious-juridical distinction between feriae stativae and feriae conceptivae particularly fruitful. The public Roman festivals called feriae stativae had a fixed date within the calendar, recurring every year on the same day, while the feriae conceptivae, related to events not associated with a specific temporal setting, were celebrated every year at a variable date, which was determined each time by the proper authority. In the Hittite case, we observe that also occasional festivals, even if not exactly chronologically predictable, were perceived as periodical events and linked to specific times of the year, becoming part of the cyclical succession of religious activities that formed what we call the cult calendar.

2. A busy king: the Hittite festival organisation

The tendency towards a ‘periodicity’ in the performing of religious ceremonies represents one of the most peculiar elements of the Hittite calendar. It is not merely the reflex of a periodical occurrence of natural phenomena, it also responds to a particular religious need: the urge to include every official ceremony within an organised pattern, which guarantees the continuity of the cult and the perpetuation of the cosmic order sanctioned by the gods.

In this conceptual framework, the correct performance and the regularity of the cult represented a fundamental religious duty. Any negligence in the performance of the cult was perceived as a potential threat to the entire Land. In an important document preserved in copies dating to the Empire Period, the so-called ‘Instructions for the temple personnel’ (CTH 264),4 the priests of the Hittite temples are explicitly advised not to perform the spring festival in autumn and the autumn festival in spring:

Moreover, you who are the temple personnel: if you do not celebrate the festivals at festival time, (e.g.) you perform the spring festival [i]n autu[mn], bu[t] then you celebrate the autumn festival i[n] the spring […]

(§9 in Miller 2013: 255)

The same concept is expressed in a prayer of the king Tutḫaliya IV directed to the Sun-goddess of Arinna, CTH 385. The text states, in the first preserved lines, that an oracular investigation has revealed that the goddess is angry because of the religious negligence of the king, who has neglected the correct performance of the festivals for the goddess. Specifically, he has inverted the festivals of the spring and of the autumn.

never again [shall I omit] the festivals. I will not again interchange the spring and [autumn festivals]. [The festivals of spring] I shall perform only in the spring, [and the festivals of] autumn I shall perform only in the autumn. I shall never leave out [the festivals(?)] in [your] temple.

(§1 in Singer 2002: 108)

The omission or the incorrect performing of festivals could lead to terrible consequences. This is particularly evident in one of the so-called ‘plague prayers’ of the king Muršili II, where the cause of the plague that has been tormenting the land of Hatti since the time of his father Šuppiluliuma I is connected to the latter’s religious misbehave.5 A particular attention is given to the fact that he has omitted to perform the ritual for the Mala river.6 Muršili promises to the Storm-god to make amend for the faults of his father and to make up for the neglected festival.

As for the [ritual] of the Mala River, which was established for me as a cause for the plague, since I am herewith on my way [to] the Mala River, forgive me, O Storm-god of Hatti, my lord, and O gods, my lords, for (neglecting) the ritual of the Mala River. I am going to perform the ritual of the Mala River, and I will carry it out.

(§7 in Singer 2002: 59)

In the prologue of Muršili’s ten-years Annals, the king Šuppiluliuma is also accused by his son of having neglected the festival for the Sun-goddess of Arinna.

Because my father was establishing garrisons in the Land of Mittani, he lingered in a garrison and the festivals of the Sun-goddess of Arinna, my lady, were being neglected. When I, the Majesty, sat on the throne of my father, before I went to any of all the surrounding enemy lands who waged war against me, I went back to the regular festivals of the Sun-goddess of Arinna, my lady, and I celebrated them.7

Muršili himself, in a passage of the so-called extensive Annals, mentions the fact that he has interrupted a military campaign in order to perform some rites related to the purulli- festival that he has not celebrated properly.

When it became spring, whereas I had celebrated the New Year Festival,8 the great festival, in honour of the Storm-god of Hatti and the Storm-god of Zippalanda, but I had not celebrated the New Year Festival, the great festival, in honour of Lelwani in the ḫešta-house, I therefore came up to Ḫattusa and celebrated the New Year Festival, the great festival, in honour of Lelwani in the ḫešta-house.

(Archi 2015: 19, with reference to Götze 1933: 188-191)

That the ideal of a correct and regular performance of ritual activities did not always correspond to the reality of the Hittite cult is further confirmed by sources where the Hittites scribes show a rather pragmatic attitude towards the celebration of festivals. In the colophon of KUB 20.26, a tablet describing the autumn festival for Ištar of Šamuḫa, we found the indication that the festival as such must not be delated but, if for some reasons this has happened, the cult functionaries must not make up the entire festival, but only add some special offerings to those normally prescribed for the ceremony:9

If the festival is neglected for two or three years they will not make up the (entire) festival; but at the festival (they provide) for her 3 bulls (among them 1 fattened bull), 16 sheep (and) 6 large loaves (among them 2 loaves of one bushel, 4 loaves of 3 seah).

(Schwemer 2016: 16)

Whatever the interpretation of such passages,10 it is safe to say that the cyclical repetition of festivals and their regular performance in the course of the year had a fundamental religious meaning. That explains why festival descriptions represent by far the most attested typology of documentation in Hittite archives, representing approximately the 40% of the total amount of documents in Hittite language (Lorenz 2014: 459). More than one hundred festivals are attested in Hittite sources,11 and some of them lasted for more than one month. The great spring festival of the AN.TAḪ.ŠUMSAR received its name from a plant that flourished in spring, probably a crocus, which was at the centre of ritual actions performed by the king and the queen during the ninth day of the ceremony (Güterbock 1960: 85). In its original form, dating probably to the time of Šuppiluliuma I, the festival lasted some 35 days,12 but it was expanded at the time of the king Tutḫaliya IV to a total amount of about 38 to 40 days. The great autumn festival called nuntarriyašḫa-, from a verb nuntarriya-, ‘haste, hurry,’ had a similar length and lasted about 40 days under the same king (Nakamura 2002: 11). Of the purulli- festival, performed in the city of Nerik and in the capital Ḫattuša at the beginning of the spring, we know very little, but it must have been a long festival, considering that its description was contained in 32 tablets (Archi 2015: 11-12).

Even if we assume that not all festivals documented in Hittite archives were actually performed at the time of their written redaction, and that some of the tablets that contain their description were kept for archival purposes, the amount and variety of these ceremonies is certainly striking, to the point the it is legitimate to ask oneself, with J. Lorenz (2014: 460): did the Hittite king have any time at all for something else? Following the considerations by the same Lorenz, an answer to the question could possibly be found in the combination of three main factors: 1) Tablets of old festivals that were not celebrated anymore continued to be copied and kept in the Hittite archives for both religious and administrative purposes. 2) Older festivals were integrated within larger ceremonies during the late Hittite period; e.g., the KI.LAM festival or some sections of it seem to have become part of the nuntarriyašḫa- festival in the 13th century BC (Nakamura 2002:128-134). 3) Some festivals were not performed annually but in multi-year cycles. In particular, festivals performed every three years are well attested in local cult inventories (Cammarosano 2018: 109; 2019: 72-73), whereas ‘festivals of the sixth year’ are famously mentioned in Muršili II’s Annals.13

3. The Hittite year

But what were the main elements that determined the regular pattern of festivals and rites that shaped the Hittite calendar?

As is known, the Hittites did no develop, during their entire history, a theoretical calendar based on astronomical calculations like the ones in use from the third millennium in Mesopotamia14. The centuries-long duration of the Old Assyrian network of trading colonies in the territory that would become the core of the Hittite kingdom seems not to have influenced the local inhabitants, who did not adopt the Assyrian calendar15 and used a different, observationally based, temporal organisation of their cults. Any attempt to reconstruct the Hittite cult calendar is made even more difficult by the fact that, while other Near Eastern cultures gave a name to their months, the Hittites seem to have just numbered them according to their order in the year, as can be seen in following examples:

· KBo 6.2, ii 61

⸢ma-a-an⸣ URUa-ri-in-⸢na⸣ ⸢11⸣ ITU-aš ti-ez-zi […]

‘When in Arinna the eleventh month arrives (…)’

· KUB 29.9, vi 9-10

ták-ku I-NA ITU.4KAM DEN.ZU-aš / kat-ta-an-da pa-a-u-wa-aš me-e-hu-ni a-ki

‘If the moon is eclipsed in the fourth month at the time of its setting (…)’

The first example comes from paragraph 50 of the Hittite Laws (Hoffner 1997: 61), dealing with exemptions from the luzzi- services in the city of Arinna, while the second one is taken from a tablet containing omina based on lunar observations (Riemschneider 2004: 108). Both refer to a specific month of the year, identifying it only with its number.

The basic pattern of Hittite cult as it can be reconstructed from the sources was shaped in accordance with natural rhythms. The year was divided into twelve months (see below) and three main seasons: spring, autumn, and winter, of irregular length. The existence of a fourth season was postulated by Hoffner (1974: 24-41) on the basis of some instances where the Sumerogram BURU14, which literally means ‘harvest,’ seems to have the transferred meaning of ‘season of the harvest, summer.’16

The Hittite seasons were not precisely defined chronological units, depending on the observation of natural phenomena rather than on astronomical calculations. The basic temporal settings of the Hittite cult are expressed in the often-quoted prayer of Arnuwanda and Ašmunikal CTH 375, where the royal couple deplores the looting of the temples by the Kaška enemies in the following terms:

No one in those lands invokes your names anymore, O gods. No one presents to you the daily, the monthly, and the annual seasonal rituals. No one celebrates your festivals and ceremonies.

(Singer 2002: 42)

The daily rituals mentioned in the prayer are certainly to be understood as the normal sequence of offerings of food and beverages to the deities, which were part of the regular cult activities performed on a daily basis in the temples. It is the basic cult operation often defined as ‘daily bread-loaf,’ NINDA.GUR4.RA UMI, in Hittite cult-inventories (Cammarosano 2018: 114-115).

The monthly and the annual rituals are related to the natural cycles of the moon and the seasons and were performed at regular intervals, or in connection with particular agricultural activities. In one of his ‘plague prayers’ to the Sun-goddess of Arinna, CTH 376, the Hittite king Muršili II reminds the gods that:

Only in Hatti they celebrate festivals for you—the festival of the month], festivals throughout the course of the year, [autumn, winter] and spring, and the festivals of the sacrificial rituals. In no other land do they perform anything for you.

(Singer 2002: 51)17

The seasonal festivals of spring and autumn represent perhaps the most important ones in the Hittite cult calendar and are connected to agricultural activity (Archi 1973: 7-27; Hazenbos 2004: 241-248). Their core was represented by the ritual act of filling a large vessel called DUGḫarsi- or DUGḫaršiyalli- with the harvested wheat, during the autumn festival, and the re-opening of the vessel during the spring festival. The wheat was then used to prepare breads that were subsequently offered to the gods. In this way the ceremonies symbolised, in their essence, the perpetual renewal of the fertility of the fields. Besides this ritual action, the ritual program of both seasonal festivals envisaged long series of offerings and libations, and, generally in the case of the spring festival, a procession, during which the statues of the gods were brought from their temples to their open-air sanctuaries, where a great banquet took place.18 As has been noted, these ceremonies present several elements in common with other functionally analogous festivals performed in other near eastern cultures, such as for instance the Mesopotamian akītu festival (Hazenbos 2004: 242). In the Empire Period it is very probable that some of these local festivals were integrated into the major official festival of the AN.TAḪ.ŠUM plant, in spring, and the autumn nuntarriyašḫaš festival, whose ritual program included a series of rites performed by the royal couple in many local cult centres of the Hittite state (Hutter 2021: 242-247). Around the two major festivals of spring and autumn, a great number of seasonal ceremonies related to the agricultural cycle were performed in the course of the year, as largely documented in Hittite cult inventories (Cammarosano 2018: 129-137; Demirel 2017: 22-29).

Given their seasonal character, both the festival of the spring and the festival of the autumn did not take place at a fixed date within the calendar. In order to define better the chronological setting of these cults it is therefore necessary to establish when the Hittite year began. We do not have information about the older phases of the Hittite kingdom, but it seems certain that at least from the Empire Period, i.e. around the 14th-13th century, the Hittites followed the Babylonians in starting the annual cycle of festivals with the beginning of the spring. In his Annals, the king Muršili II mentions several times the celebration of the ‘festival of the year’ as the event that signals the reappraisal of the military operations after the winter period. In KBo 3.4 obv. ii 46-49, for instance, the king describes the end of his third-year campaign as follows:

When I had conquered mount Arinnanda, I came back to the river Aštarpa, I set up a fortified camp on the river Aštarpa, and there I celebrated the festival of the year. These things I accomplished in one year.

(Götze 1933: 59-61)19

The exact meaning of the expression EZEN4 MUKAM, ‘festival of the year,’ is not entirely clear but, in such contexts, it probably refers to the particular ceremony, or ensemble of ceremonies, which marked the passage from the old to the new year, and was an important part both of the official cult calendar and of the local religious traditions.20 Some scholars (Haas 1994: 696 ff.) have proposed to identify this ceremony with the purulli- festival, which was celebrated at the beginning of the spring season. As recently suggested by Hutter (2021: 242-243), it is certainly possible that some rites connected with the passage of the year, such as the symbolic translation of the old year to the ḫešta- house during the 11th day of the AN.TAḪ.ŠUM festival,21 could have been connected to the purulli- festival. An outright equivalence between the ceremony defined in the sources as EZEN4 MUKAM and the purulli- festival, however, is not supported by the existing evidence.

Two oracular reports, KUB 5.4+ (CTH 563) and KUB 18.12+ (CTH 564), where omens concerning the place where the Hittite king will spend the winter period are collected, explicitly connect the festival of the year and the festival of thunder.

· (obv. i 16-17) ‘The Majesty in this year will spend the winter in Ḫattuša and he will celebrate in Ḫattuša the regular festivals, (i.e.) the festival of the year, the festival of thunder.’

· (obv. i 1-2) ‘[Wh]en the Majesty comes up from the military campaign, he will celebrate the gods, and the Majesty and the queen will spend the winter in Ḫattuša. There they will celebrate the festival of thunder of the Storm-god of Ḫalap, there they will celebrate the festival of the year (…).’

It is known from several sources that this festival, i.e. the festival of thunder, took place at the beginning of the spring. The celebration of the seasonal festival of the spring, indeed, was regulated in accordance with the first rainstorms of the season, that still today in central Anatolia take place between the months of March and April (Hoffner 1974: 18, 22). The introductory formula that usually opens the description of the Hittite spring festivals states: ‘When the spring comes (and) it thunders, they open the ḫarši- vessel’ (Cammarosano 2018: 39). The first thunders of the spring were an important marker of time. They signalled the renewal of the agricultural year and were connected with the celebration of several seasonal ceremonies (Barsacchi 2017: 18-24).

Considering the association of festivals of thunder and festival of the year, it seems very likely that the beginning of the Hittite year coincided with the beginning of the spring. This is further confirmed by the passage KUB 38.32 obv. 8 (CTH 508), that states: ‘(…) when it becomes autumn, in the eight month of the year.’ Since the autumn festival probably depended on the time of seeding, and this could not take place later than the end of October /beginning of November, the beginning of the year would coincide approximately with the month of March, when both the spring festivals and other seasonal ceremonies, like the festivals of thunder were, in all likelihood, performed.

4. The Hittite month

As for the other basic temporal setting of Hittite festivals, the month, it seems now ascertained that it was based on the lunar phases, as in Mesopotamian calendars. This is suggested by several elements, already underlined by Del Monte (1988: 54-55):

– the fact that Hittite sources calculate pregnancy in ten months clearly depends on a calendar based on lunar regularities, as can be seen for instance in paragraph 18 of the Laws:

If anyone causes a female slave to miscarry, if she is in her tenth month, he shall pay 5 shekels of silver.

(Hoffner 1997: 29)

– In the description of a festival for the gods of the town of Ištanuwa, it is stated that the inhabitants of a city called Lalupija can celebrate the rite: ‘either in spring, at the harvest, or in autumn, or in winter,’ and in different moments of the month: ‘whether it is new moon, full moon or completed moon’ (KUB 32.123+, rev. iii 17-18). This division attests to an alignment of the month with the lunar phases.

– Other interesting elements can be found in texts where the celebration of monthly festivals, defined by the use of the Sumerographic writing EZEN4 ITUKAM, is documented. These ceremonies, like the daily offering of bread, represented part of the standard cult due to the Hittite deities, and were regularly performed in the context of many local cult calendars, in close accordance with lunar movements. Several cult inventories attest in fact, for the same cult centre, the celebration of twelve monthly festivals during one year (Cammarosano 2018: 115).

From the tablet KUB 42.100+, an inventory relating to the organisation of the cult in the city of Nerik, we receive the information that several monthly festivals could be performed in the same cult centre for different deities. The tablet mentions four monthly festivals, performed respectively for the Storm-god of the town of Zaḫalukka, the Storm-god of Heaven, the Stag-god and the god Telipinu:

(obv. i 1-2) [Fo]r the [Storm]-god of [Zaḫ]aluka the priest [regularly celebrates] 12 monthly festivals (and) 2 (more) fest[ivals], (namely) 1 autumn festival (and) 1 spring festival, fr[om his house]. (…)

(rev. iii 13’-14’) For the Storm-god of Heaven the priest now regularly celebrates 12 monthly festivals, 1 spr[ing] festival, (and) [1 autumn festival] at the expense of his house. (…)

(rev. iii 49’-50’) [For the Stag-god] the priest (now) regularly celebrates [12 monthly festivals, 1] autumn festival (and) 1 spring festival [from his house] (…)

(rev. iv 22’-24’) And now, for him (scil. Telipinu), the priest celebrates 12 monthly festivals, 1 autumn festival (and one) spring festival, at the expense of his house. 2 BÁN-measures of flour, 1 vessel of beer, 1 pot of broad beans for each monthly festival. (Cammarosano 2018: 341-353)

Apart the mentions of the festival in relation to a particular town or a particular deity, however, very few indications can be found in these sources concerning the nature of these religious ceremonies and the details of their ritual program. Since the monthly festivals were connected to the cult of local deities, it is safe to say that there was not a standard version of this ceremony. In every religious centre, it had probably different forms, which depended on local religious traditions and the structure of the local pantheons. Being related to the month and therefore to the lunar phases, it is possible that such local monthly festivals were performed at new moon, during the transition from one month to the other (Cammarosano 2018: 115). Considering that several monthly festivals seem to have been performed in the same cult centre for different local deities, however, it is also possible to imagine that, in local cult calendars, such ceremonies were not necessarily related to the passage of the month. In such cases the expression EZEN4 ITU could more simply hint at the monthly frequency of their performance, as suggested by Houwink ten Cate.22 The monthly festival performed in Nerik for the local Storm-god, for instance, envisaged two major celebrations, each one of them lasting three days. The first one was celebrated at the beginning of the month, and therefore at new moon, and the other starting from the 13th day, in clear concomitance with the full moon. The festival is described in the text CTH 672, an edict issued by the king Tutḫaliya IV in order to regulate the cult of the Storm-god (Součkova 2010: 279-300). The incipit of the document is partially preserved in KUB 56.48:

obv. i

6 nu A-NA DU URUn[e-ri-ik …]

7 EZEN4 ITUKAM x[…]

8 ⸢GIM⸣-an ITU [ú-iz-zi (?)23… EZEN4 ITU]KAM ⸢ki-iš-ša⸣-an

9 i-ia-an-du x[

(6-9) For the Storm-god of N[erik…]. A festival of the month […]. When the month [comes?…] they perform [a festival of the month] in the following way

(Součkova 2010: 288)24

The second ritual section of the festival is introduced as follows:

KBo 2.4, obv. i

23 GIM-an-ma A-NA ITUKAM UD.13KAM ti-ia-zi

24 nu EGIR-pa wa-ar-pu-wa-ar ne-ku-uz-za me-hur

(…)

27 ma-aḫ-ḫa-an-ma lu-kat-ta nu A-NA ITUKAM ku-iš

28 UD.14KAM (…)

(23-24) When the 13th day of the month begins, at nightfall, after the purification (…)

(27-28) On the 14th day of the month, at dawn (…)

(Součkova 2010: 288)25

Another example of a local monthly festival celebrated in connection with particular lunar phases is represented by the ceremony performed for the couple Storm-god–Ḫepat in the Land of Kizzuwatna, in south-eastern Anatolia, and described in the document CTH 706 (Trémouille 1996: 79-104). The ceremony represents a perfect model of a peripheral festival strongly influenced by local traditions, and it is very different from other monthly ceremonies described in Hittite sources, presenting elements that clearly indicate its southern provenance. What is interesting here is that the festival is celebrated in the last days of the month, during the obscuration that precedes the first appearance of the new moon. This is described in the beginning of the text, where it is written that ‘the month culminates (finishes) and it ends’ (KUB 54.36+, obv. i 2).

As in Mesopotamia,26 the Hittite month began at the first appearance of the new moon, as confirmed by passages such as KUB 60.121, rev. 18: nu maḫḫan GE6-anza kišari ITU=kán uizzi: ‘When it gets dark and the month begins.’ In the framework of the official state cult a great ceremony, which is also defined in the sources as EZEN4 ITU, was performed by the Hittite king, in order to consecrate the transition from one lunar cycle to another, a time perceived as particularly meaningful. The fragments belonging to this ceremony, which lasted three days, have been collected under the catalogue number CTH 591 and published by J. Klinger (1996: 286-614).

As I have suggested elsewhere (Barsacchi 2019a: 11-18), this festival probably included a series of purification rites performed by the king on the roof of the palace or the temple, at night, and clearly directed to the Moon-god, generally indicated by its astral number, as D30. This seems to be confirmed by a small group of fragments (partially collected under CTH 645), describing a ritual performed by the king during the new moon, a cleansing rite defined with the Hittite word warpuwar. External sources, such as the outline tablets of the great AN.TAḪ.ŠUM festival,27 also seem to refer to this rite when they state: [(LUGAL-uš=ma=za) AN(A EZEN4 ITU war)]apz[(i)], ‘the Hittite king purifies himself for the festival of the month’ (Güterbock 1960: 81).

These documents could shed light on a very peculiar Hittite ceremony, currently classified as CTH 630 and generally known as the ‘festival of the moon and the thunder.’ The festival described in the tablets associated to this corpus represents a rather unique form of religious ceremony, which is performed when a sudden thunder interrupts an ongoing festival called ‘festival of the Moon-god,’ EZEN4 DEN.ZU/D30. The incipit of the festival, preserved in fragment KUB 32.135 obv. i, runs as follows:

When the purifying for the festival of the Moon-god (takes place), the king purifies himself, but when the king comes from the washing-house and (it) thunders, then, if they have not called the man of the Storm-god yet, they leave the festival of the Moon-god and they celebrate the festival of thunder.

The unique expression EZEN4 DEN.ZU/D30 is attested only in documents belonging to this festival, and its exact meaning has generally remained rather obscure. In consideration of the abovementioned group of fragments describing the rites performed by the king at new moon, it is very likely that the ‘purifying’ (Hitt. warpuwanzi) mentioned in the incipit of the text should be identified with this particular sequence of rites, aimed at assuring the kings condition of purity during this time. The hapax ‘festival of the Moon-god’ would be just another way of defining the great ceremony of the month celebrated by the Hittite at new moon, probably referred specifically to the sequence of purification rites performed on that occasion.

KUB 55.39+ is an interesting colophon of a tablet, very likely belonging to the same corpus of texts, which reads as follows:

(rev. iv 27’-29’) One tablet. Finished. When the moon appears. When the king goes up to the roof for the festi[val] of the month (…).

It clearly refers, once again, to the same cultic operation. As in Mesopotamia, the first appearance of the new moon signalled the beginning of the new month. This liminal moment had such a religious significance in Hittite thought that it was associated with the celebration of regular rites. These were an important part both of local cult calendars and of the official cult of the state, where the celebration of the great festival of the month by the Hittite king reaffirmed his condition of purity and ensured the continuity of the natural balance sanctioned by the gods.

4.1. A Hittite intercalary month?

As is known, a lunar calendar, based on the appearance of the new moon, does not correspond exactly to the solar year. Since the earth’s cycle around the sun determines the turn of the seasons, this discrepancy produces a progressive shift of the months with respect to the solar year. In order to keep the system of the months synchronous with the succession of the seasons it is necessary, in a lunar calendar, to add an intercalary month to a year on a regular basis. This is the solution adopted in most of the ancient Near Eastern calendars (Steele 2011: 475-478; Britton 2007: 119-124), but the existence of such an intercalation in Hittite system of time-reckoning is still a debated issue. Some scholars (Haas 1994: 692, n. 134; Fleming 2000: 215, n. 53; Gonzáles García, Belmonte 2011: 472-473), focusing on the scarce references to the presence of a 13th month documented in some texts, believe that an intercalary month was actually added in order to keep the system of the months synchronous with the succession of the seasons. The text passage that is generally mentioned in this discussion as an evidence for the existence of a Hittite intercalary month comes from KBo 22.246 (CTH 698), a document dealing with the cults for Tešub and Ḫepat of Aleppo:28

KBo 22.246, rev. iii

21’ 13 EZEN4 ŠA DU URUḫa-la-ab ŠÀ.BA EZEN4p[u-da-ḫa-aš]

22’ 1 EZEN4ḫi-ya-ra-aš EZEN4ša-at-la-aš-ša-aš EZEN4 x[

23’ 1 EZEN4 GURUN EZEN4 TÚLTI EZEN4 ḪUR.SAGta-at-ta [

24’ EZEN4 te-e-nu 2 EZEN4 šenaš a-še-ša-nu-ma-an-z[i]

(21’-24’) thirteen festivals of the Storm-god of Aleppo, among them: they set up the p[udaḫa-] festival, one ḫiyara- festival, one šatlašša festival, a festival […], one festival of the fruit, a festival of the spring, the festival of the mountain Tatta […] the festival of Tenu, two festivals of the šena- figurine.

The text lists the festivals in honour of the Storm-god of Aleppo that are to be performed in Ḫatti in the course of one year, but the assumption that the number of ceremonies mentioned would reflect the number of the months in the Hittite year is unfounded. No indication is given in the text concerning the timing of the festivals or the frequency of their celebration. Indeed, another passage of the same document records the offering of twelve sheep for the twelve months of the year, thus confirming the data concerning the total amount of twelve monthly festivals per year provided by the cult inventories:

KBo 22.246, obv. ii

14 ŠA ITU.⸢12⸣KAM-ma ku-la-mur-ši-ya ki-iš-ša-[an

15 12 UDU LÚ.MEŠNA.GAD pí-iš-kán-zi ½ BÁ[N

(14-15) for twelve months in/for the kulamurši-29 as follow[s…] the shepherds provide 12 sheep, half a BÁ[N-measure of…].

Other attestations of a 13th month could be found in Hittite celestial omina:30

KUB 8.5, obv. 10’

[ma-a-an I-NA ITU.1]3KAM I-NA UD.15KAM D[30 a-ki]

[if in the thirteen]th [month], on the fifteenth day [the Moon-god dies].

KUB 8.35, obv. i 10’

(…) I-NA ITU.13KAM DUMU-aš mi-ia-ri NU.GÁL ku-it-ki

(If) in the thirteenth month a child is born. Nothing (will happen).

These texts however, do not mirror a Hittite use because, as has been proved already by Riemschneider (1970: 44) and Fincke (2004: 238-239), they clearly represent Hittite translations of a Middle Babylonian original.31 Despite recent claims (Shelestin 2021: 101), I find it difficult to believe that the production of this kind of documents could be taken as evidence of a Hittite temporal structuring. Nothing, from the sources at our disposal, allows us to establish the existence of an intercalary month in the Hittite calendrical system. The beginning of the Hittite year was not determined by astronomical calculations but was established, very pragmatically, on the basis of the observation of weather and changes in climate, the flowering and fruiting of the plants and the alternation of the seasons. The same principle regulated the periodical celebration of seasonal and agrarian festivals. Such a religious calendar is subject to a certain degree of variation and does not allow exact predictions concerning the timing of some festivals. At the same time, however, it is marked by a great flexibility, which is certainly sufficient to guarantee the correlation between the succession of the seasons and the yearly cycle of the months, necessary for the correct performance of the cult of the gods.

5. Conclusion

To sum up, the system of periodical festivals articulated in daily, monthly and seasonal rites that constitutes what we call the Hittite cult calendar can be reconstructed with a certain accuracy from extant sources. The absence of a written calendar based on astronomical calculations, like the ones in use in Mesopotamia, did not prevent, in other words, a rigid administration of sacred time in the form of a highly articulated system of cults based on a close observation of natural rhythms. This system mirrors the Hittite ideal of cosmic continuity as the identity of a periodically renewed time, guaranteed by a close observance of the religious duties demanded by the gods. The carrying out of the rites at the right time by the central administration was perceived as essential to the prosperity of the entire land and strengthened the position of the king as legitimate representative of the gods before the community.32 This relationship between cult calendar and political authority is critical, therefore, to our understanding of Hittite society and lies at the very basis of the Hittite ideology of kingship.

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