Enclosing the Past:

inside and outside in

prehistory

Edited by
Anthony Harding, Susanne Sievers and
Natalie Venclová

Sheffield Archaeological Monographs 15

J.R. Collis Publications

Sheffield
2006
© Individual Authors and Editors 2006

Publisher: J.R. Collis

Editors: A. Harding, S. Sievers and N. Venclová

Cover design: Mark Lee

Cover illustration: Modern enclosure on the Arran Islands, Ireland.
Photograph: Natalie Venclová

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978-0-906090-53-4

Copies of this volume and a catalogue of other publications

by J.R. Collis Publications can be obtained from Equinox Publishing
at the following address:

Turpin Distribution Services,

Stratton Business Park,
Biggleswade,
Bedfordshire SG18 8QB
Tel: +44 (0)1767 604951 / Fax +44 (0)1767 601640
e-mail: turpin@extenza-turpin.com
http://www.equinoxpub.com

Printed in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd

LIST OF CONTENTS
Introduction ix
Anthony Harding, Susanne Sievers and Natalie Venclová
1. Enclosures and fortifications in Central Europe 1
Evžen Neustupný
2. Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia: the evidence from the air 5
Martin Gojda
3. Does enclosure make a difference? A view from the Balkans 20
John Chapman and Bisserka Gaydarska, with Karen Hardy
4. Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia in their central European 44
context
Vladimír Podborský and Jaromír Kovárník
5. The first known enclosures in southern Britain: their nature, function and 69
role, in space and time
Roger J. Mercer
6. Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula 76
Michael Kunst
7. Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe 97
Anthony Harding
8. Defining community: iron, boundaries and transformation in later 116
prehistoric Britain
Richard Hingley
9. Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen 126
Susanne Sievers
10. Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland: Umfriedung – 135
Abgrenzung – Umwehrung
Günther Wieland
11. Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age 140
Natalie Venclová
12. Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila 155
John Collis
Index 163
AUTHORS’ ADDRESSES

John Chapman Department of Archaeology, University of Durham, South Road, Durham, DH1
3LE, UK.
e-mail: j.c.chapman@durham.ac.uk
John Collis 9 Clifford Road, Sheffield S11 9AQ, UK.
e-mail: j.r.collis@sheffield.ac.uk
Bisserka Gaydarska Department of Archaeology, University of Durham, South Road, Durham, DH1
3LE, UK.
e-mail: b_gaydaska@yahoo.co.uk
Martin Gojda Institute of Archaeology of the Czech Academy of Sciences, Letenská 4, 118 01
Prague, and Department of Archaeology, University of West Bohemia, Sedláčkova
31, 306 14 Plzeň, Czech Republic.
e-mail: gojda@kar.zcu.cz
Anthony Harding Department of Archaeology, Laver Building, University of Exeter, North Park
Road, Exeter EX4 4QE, UK.
e-mail: A.F.Harding@exeter.ac.uk
Karen Hardy Department of Archaeology, The King’s Manor, York YO1 7EP, UK.
e-mail: karhardy@gmail.com
Richard Hingley Department of Archaeology, University of Durham, South Road, Durham, DH1
3LE, UK.
e-mail: richard.hingley@durham.ac.uk
Jaromír Kovárník South-Moravian Museum in Znojmo, Přemyslovců 6, CZ-669 45 Znojmo, Czech
Republic.
e-mail: kovarnik@znojmuz.cz.
Michael Kunst Instituto Arqueológico Alemán, C/ Serrano, 159, 28002 Madrid, Spain.
e-mail: kunst@madrid.dainst.org.
Roger Mercer 4 Old Church Lane, Duddingston, Edinburgh, EH15 3PX, UK.
e-mail: RogerJMercer@aol.com
Evžen Neustupný Department of Archaeology, University of West Bohemia, Sedláčkova 31, 306 14
Plzeň, Czech Republic.
e-mail: neustup@kar.zcu.cz
Vladimír Podborský Institute of Archaeology and Museology, Masaryk University, Faculty of Arts, Arne
Nováka 1, CZ-602 00 Brno, Czech Republic.
e-mail: podbor@phil.muni.cz.
Susanne Sievers Römisch-Germanische Kommission, Palmengartenstrasse 10-12, D-60325
Frankfurt/Main, Germany.
e-mail: sievers@rgk.dainst.de
Natalie Venclová Institute of Archaeology of the Czech Academy of Sciences, Letenská 4, CZ-118 01
Prague, Czech Republic.
e-mail: venclova@arup.cas.cz
Günther Wieland Regierungspräsidium Karlsruhe, Referat 25 Denkmalpflege, Moltkestr. 74, D-76133
Karlsruhe, Germany.
e-mail: guenther.wieland@rpk.bwl.de

iv
LIST OF FIGURES

2.1 The course of the large, Late Eneolithic enclosure at Kly (district Mělník). 6
2.2 Selected enclosures (Erdwerke) of the Michelsberg Culture. 7
2.3 Urmitz (Rheinland/Pfalz, Germany): plan of the largest known Neolithic earthwork in 8
Europe.
2.4 Chleby, distr. Nymburk. 10
2.5 Trpoměchy, distr. Kladno. 11
2.6 Almost vertical aerial photograph of the Kly enclosure (June 1997). 13
2.7 Schematic depiction of the areas in which magnetometer surveys were carried out in the 14
Kly cadastre, 1997–2000.
2.8 Kly: combined results of aerial prospection and the areas of positive magnetometric 15
surveys of the large enclosure.
2.9 Kly, district Mělník: Surface artefact collection 2000. 16
2.10 Kly, district Mělník: trench 1/99 – general plan. 17
2.11 Kly, district Mělník: Inner ditch, northern section. 18

3.1 Location map of sites discussed in chapter 3. 22

3.2 General plan of Gradac-Zlokućane. 24
3.3 Plan of the Durankulak complex. 28
3.4 Contour map of the Csőszhalom tell. 30
3.5 Magnetic map of the Csőszhalom tell. 31
3.6 Plan of Iskritsa I pit site. 33
3.7 Plan of Tell Merdzumekja, Karanovo VI level. 36

4.1 Vedrovice, southern Moravia. 45

4.2 Enclosures of the Early Neolithic LBK. 46
4.3 Enclosures of the Middle and Late Neolithic. 49
4.4 ‘Rondels’ of west-central Europe. 51
4.5 Eneolithic enclosures. 52
4.6 ‘Rondels’ of the Middle Danube. 54
4.7 Distribution of ‘rondels’ in Moravia. 56
4.8 Distribution of ‘rondels’ in the loess zone between the course of the rivers Tisza and 58
Rhine.
4.9 Multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement: Inden, West Germany. 60
4.10 Multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement of the Lengyel culture: Žlkovce, Slovakia. 61

6.1 Zambujal. Area VX during the excavation of 1972. 77

6.2 Model of the horizontal and vertical stratigraphies of the walls of Zambujal. 78
6.3 The five phases of Zambujal according to the excavations of Sangmeister and Schubart. 79
6.4 Zambujal. The ‘outer courtyard’ with its loopholes after the restoration in 1970. 80
6.5 Zambujal. Plan of the ‘outer courtyard’ and the second fortification line. 81
6.6 Zambujal. Calibration 12 radiocarbon dates from charcoal samples from phases 1c to 4d. 86
6.7 Zambujal. Calibration of 8 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before 1a 86
to 2c and phase 5.

v
6.8 Zambujal. Calibration of 7 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before 1a, 87
1a, 1c, 3c and 5.
6.9 Zambujal. Air photograph from southwest to northeast with the excavation of the 4th 88
fortification line.
6.10 Zambujal, October 1994. Air photograph from north to south of the end of the 89
promontory.
6.11 Zambujal. Air photograph of the 1st and 2nd fortification lines. 90
6.12 Zambujal. Air photograph of the 4 fortification line.
th
91
6.13 Zambujal. Schematic plan of phase 2 with indication of later constructions at the 4th line. 92
6.14 La Revilla del Campo, Ambrona (Miño de Medinaceli, Soria, Spain). 93

7.1 Plan of Gardom’s Edge. 98

7.2 Plan of Blackshouse Burn. 99
7.3 Plan of the henge monument at Balfarg, Fife. 100
7.4 Ring cairn on Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire. 101
7.5 Plan of the Druids’ Circle at Penmaenmawr, North Wales. 102
7.6 Plan of Loft’s Farm, Essex. 103
7.7 Plan of Mucking South Ring, Essex. 104
7.8 Plan of Rider’s Rings, Dartmoor, Devon. 104
7.9 Plan of the crannóg of Clonfinlough. 105
7.10 Plan of the crannóg of Knocknalappa. 106
7.11 Probability distributions of the radiocarbon dates from Svodín. 107
7.12 Plan of Nitriansky Hrádok. 108
7.13 Published plan of Spišský Štvrtok. 109
7.14 Plan of the Forschner site, Baden-Württemberg. 110
7.15 Plan of the fort at Monkodonja. 111
7.16 Plan of the central area at Velim, Czech Republic. 112

8.1 Hillforts in southern Britain and the adjacent Continent. 117

8.2 Enclosed Iron Age settlements. 118
8.3 A currency bar from Park Farm, Warwickshire. 119
8.4 Currency bars at eight hillforts in southern Britain. 120

9.1 Das Oppidum von Villeneuve-St-Germain und sein Kanalsystem. 127

9.2 Manching. Von einer porticus umgebenes Gehöft der Südumgehung. 128
9.3 Manching. Dreiphasiger Tempel aus Schnitt 20. 129
9.4 Plätze und Straßen des Oppidums Variscourt/Condé-sur-Suippe. 130
9.5 Manching. Das Osttor in seiner zweiten Bauphase mit Annäherungshindernis. 131
9.6 Die Befestigungslinien des Oppidums auf dem Závist während LT C2 und LT D2. 131
9.7 Das Oppidum auf dem Donnersberg und seine Befestigungslinien. 132
9.8 Das Oppidum Stradonice und seine Befestigungslinien. 133

10.1 Rekonstruktion einer Viereckschanze als Kultanlage mit weitgehend unbebautem 136
Innenraum.
10.2 Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten. 137

vi
10.3 Rekonstruktionsversuch der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten. 138
10.4 Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Oberesslingen mit nach innen gesetztem 139
Torbau.

11.1 Local enclosures: examples from the oppida in Bohemia. 141

11.2 Community enclosure: reconstruction of the Late Hallstatt to Early La Tène enclosure of 142
Němětice, Bohemia.
11.3 Community enclosure: the Viereckschanze-type enclosure of Mšecké Žehrovice in 143
Bohemia.
11.4 Community enclosures: farms - fermes - Einzelhöfe and Viereckschanze-type enclosures 144
in the Iron Age Europe.
11.5 Wooden buildings from different contexts in the La Tène of Central and Western Europe. 147
11.6 Dolní Břežany, Bohemia: reconstruction of an Early La Tène two-storied house. 149
11.7 Types of boundaries of the Iron Age community enclosures (Viereckschanzen and fermes). 150
11.8 Stone heads from community enclosures (fermes) in Brittany: Paule and Yvignac. 151

12.1 Owslebury, Hants. 156

12.2 Gussage All Saints, Dorset. 157
12.3 Old Down Farm, Andover, Hants. 158

COLOUR PLATES

1 Gojda: Hrušovany nad Jevišovkou, distr. Znojmo.

2 Gojda: Chleby, distr. Nymburk.
3 Gojda: Dolní Beřkovice, distr. Mělník.
4 Gojda: Kly, district Mělník: a tulip-shaped beaker.
5 Harding: The outer ditch at Velim.
6 Harding: Ditch deposits at Velim showing the extensive deposition of human bone.
7 Wieland: Rekonstruktion einer Viereckschanze als zentrale Einheit einer ländlichen
Siedlung.
8 Collis: Traditional house at Solosancho, Ávila.
9 Collis: Field enclosure near the village of Sanchorreja, Ávila.
10 Collis: Terraced fields near Sanchorreja, Ávila.
11 Collis: Ditched trackway and open fields at Salobralejo, Ávila.
12 Collis: Heaps of harvested grain at the village of Salobralejo, Ávila.
13 Collis: Elaborate entrance to a farm at La Colilla, Ávila.
14 Collis: Construction of a gateway and façade, Salobralejo, Ávila.
15 Collis: Simple entrance to the dehesa of El Cid at Sanchorreja, Ávila.

vii
LIST OF TABLES

3.1. Comparison of finds from different excavation sectors at Gradac-Zlokućane. 23

3.2. Social practices on the tell and the horizontal settlement at Polgár-Csöszhalom. 32
3.3. Pit stratigraphy and finds at Iskritsa I. 34

5.1. Density per m2 excavated of the occurrence of worked flint and flint implements at a 74
selection of Neolithic enclosures in southern England.

6.1 Zambujal. The calibration results of 12 radiocarbon dates from phases 1c to 4c. 82
6.2 Zambujal. The calibration results of radiocarbon dates from animal bone samples. 84
6.3 Zambujal. Comparison of the dates for the complex Z-1499. 85
6.4 The areas of Portuguese fortifications based on published plans. 90

8.1. Currency bars from various contexts. 120

8.2 The contexts of currency bars from settlements. 121

viii
Introduction
Anthony Harding, Susanne Sievers and Natalie Venclová
The practice of creating an enclosure was a phenomenon
that occurred at many times and in many places of the
prehistoric past. This volume sets out to explore the
variability of enclosures, using a variety of approaches, and
aims to explore possible reasons for enclosing rather than
technical aspects of creating enclosures. It proceeds from
the belief that insights into past acts of enclosure might be
gained from the study of the reasons for enclosing (or not
enclosing) in various present-day territories.
When one speaks of enclosures in the prehistoric past, one
is usually referring to a space, a piece of ground, surrounded
by some feature that forms a barrier to movement.
Typically this would be a ditch, or a bank, or both, though
a hedge or a line of trees might serve just as well. For it
is not just a question of creating an impenetrable barrier
which physically prevents movement; it is at least as much
a question of defining and delimiting an area which is to
be regarded as in some manner separate or different, of
creating an “inside” and an “outside”. So even a modest
physical barrier can represent a major change in attitude and
function, and convention (social, religious) can suffice to
prevent movement across it. Seen in this light, enclosures
can take on many forms, and it is by no means merely large-
scale earthworks or walls that come into consideration.
We should remember too that the delimiting of space could
also have been represented by archaeologically invisible
elements, e.g. by an empty area, by surface structures,
by natural features, or even by separate, discontinuous
elements. Searching for such “invisible delimiting” could
be a theme on its own, perhaps philosophical or sociological
rather than purely archaeological.
Typically archaeologists have assumed that enclosures
were built for defensive purposes, that is, to keep people
or wild animals out, and/or to protect what was inside from
aggressive action (people, animals, food and other resources,
valuables). This was no doubt one important function that
was served, but there is plenty of evidence to show that
there were a number of other functions. Think of henge
monuments, for instance. The surrounding earthworks can
be substantial, even massive; the interior is clearly defined
and quite separate from the exterior; yet a defensive purpose
seems unthinkable, mainly because a ditch lies inside the
surrounding bank. A true defensive establishment would
place the ditch outside the bank, in order to serve as an
impediment to attackers. Furthermore, the internal features
of henge monuments (rings of pits, posts or occasionally
stones, sometimes graves) strongly suggest a non-domestic
function for the sites. They were in all probability part of
a wider tradition that included other types of circular or
near-circular sites, such as stone rings, or rings of posts
found under Bronze Age burial mounds, in which what was
important was the concept of enclosed circular space, and
what happened inside was connected with the symbolic or
psychological sphere (“ritual”). Defence and protection
can only have been a function insofar as there were mental
barriers preventing unauthorised persons from entering the
interior and participating in the habitual activities carried
ix
out there, or coming into contact with whatever was kept
there. Although researchers may tend to prefer “practical”
explanations for enclosed areas, the symbolical significance
of boundaries might actually have been dominant in the
minds of those who created them.
Even in the case of large-scale earthworks of the Iron
Age (“hillforts”), it is by no means always obvious that the
siting and form of the “defences” were best placed to serve a
purpose in preventing hostile persons or groups from entering.
Although controversial, the concept of the “required barrier”
(Bowden & McOmish in Scottish Archaeological Review 4,
1987, 76-84), that is, the construction of barriers as a matter
of habitus rather than for specifically defensive purposes,
has found favour in the thinking of many archaeologists,
however counter-intuitive it might seem. Hillforts are a
special form of enclosure and they must be interpreted using
a variety of approaches.
What is important here is to specify the context of
construction of enclosures. Causation is a difficult area in
prehistory; the understanding of agency in the creation of the
ancient past has rightly become an important preoccupation
of many scholars, and it is in this field that future thinking is
likely to be concentrated. Seen in this light, “explanations”
such as defence must be treated with caution. Only after
the specification of the context of construction can such a
function be regarded as likely.
The authors of articles in this volume have, as is
natural, different approaches to this question. Some deal
primarily with conceptual issues, stressing the symbolical
aspects of enclosing; some concentrate on problems of the
archaeological identification of enclosures, demonstrating
that a large number of bounded features may escape recording
altogether. This is confirmed by detailed investigations
showing more complex linear structures within some
settlement sites than previously presumed. Other authors
are mainly concerned to chart the rise and fall of enclosure
in particular periods or to display the history of individual
sites, enclosure types or regions. Attempts to view enclosure
as part of a wider field of study, in which deposition practices
and other “incidental” effects can be argued to be related to
site form and type – for instance, whether they were enclosed
or unenclosed – form another approach. All authors agree
that enclosure was a major phenomenon in later European
prehistory from the point of view of landscape use or social
complexity. Most imagine that just as societies became
larger and more complex during the course of prehistory,
so enclosures became more variable over time. Some go
further, and believe that the functions of enclosures changed
too, even within a single period. It would be quite wrong,
however, to suppose that they developed in a straight line
from simple to complex; in fact the exact opposite might be
true. Thus the functions of Neolithic enclosures were far
from simple or straightforward, while those of the Iron Age
may arguably have been connected with purposes that to our
modern eyes seem far more obvious.
Specifying how enclosure relates to society, or at least
to social practice, is a recurring theme. One can argue, of
course, that enclosure was a social practice, that it had more
to do with habitual action, the creation of what was expected,
than with any particular function such as defence. Whether
this enables one to detect correlations between the form of
enclosure and the form of society is, however, doubtful. On
the other hand, some authors have found it useful to contrast
practices in enclosure (or non-enclosure) with practices in
other aspects of life and death. People in Neolithic Europe
were active enclosers, sometimes (arguably) for defensive
reasons, sometimes for symbolic or ritual reasons; the act of
separation, of inside from outside, of us from them, of the
initiated from the uninitiated, could be seen as a metaphor
for the fragmented, small-scale society that one imagines
existed at that time; while the large-scale boundaries of the
Iron Age could be thought to reflect the scale of Iron Age
society. That this is a false comparison can be seen from our
knowledge of the scale on which Neolithic and Eneolithic
people built monuments. The construction of an Avebury
or a Stonehenge, the erection of the Carnac alignments or
Le Grand Menhir Brisé, were colossal undertakings, and
though the societies were small the modes of organisation
were complex.
“In the beginning”, as the Bible says, the world was
undivided and unenclosed. It was humankind that began the
process of division of the world into separate spaces. To
continue the biblical analogy: Paradise is a separate space,
different from the rest of the world and no doubt marked by
transition points. Heaven has Gates through which one must
pass. These are mental forms of division and enclosure, but
they indicate something of the imagery that human beings
utilise in their everyday thinking.
In practice, we are confined to the real world around
us, and the real traces of ancient activity that constitute
the archaeological record. And so we must begin at the
beginning. As far as we are aware, there are no enclosures
in the Palaeolithic anywhere in the world. Even in the
Mesolithic, there is little or no sign that people constructed
enclosures of any but the simplest kind to surround their
dwellings or activity areas. It is in the Neolithic and Eneolithic
that we first see major enclosures developing, in the form of
defensive (?) sites such as some LBK settlements in central
Europe, or Hambledon Hill in England, and with massive
earthworks like the rondels of central Europe and the henges
of the west. Some of these themes were continued in the
Bronze Age, though in general the landscape of that period is
less marked by the imposition of earthworks on the land than
the preceding period; increasingly through the period there
are enclosed settlements and the beginnings of regularised
fort building. In the Iron Age an increasing division of land
x
is evident, not only in the form of complex arrangements
inside settlements, forts and oppida, but through large land
divisions that connect with major enclosed sites or hillforts
(and stockades on lower ground).
This thumbnail sketch merely sets out the markers for
what follows in this volume. Clearly there is no shortage
of material to study; what has to be done is to work out how
best to undertake the study.
Most of the contributions in the volume are based on
papers read in the session “Enclosing the past: inside and
outside in prehistory” organised by the present editors at
the 7th Annual Meeting of the European Association of
Archaeologists at Esslingen (Germany) in September 2001,
but some additional papers have been included, where they
present fresh data, ideas and approaches to the subject. The
papers in question are those by Chapman (and colleagues),
Kunst, and Podborský and Kovárník.
The world of enclosure that this volume studies and
attempts to interpret was a very different one to the one
we inhabit today. It is essential, therefore, that we do not
impose our modern ideas on this long-vanished world of the
past. Notions of defence in dealing with enclosure die hard;
we are perhaps too used to the idea of massive fortifications
built in order to exclude an enemy to remember that other
purposes are also served by enclosures. Our study of ancient
enclosure must therefore take place within a broad context
and using a range of methods. It is not only the outward
form of earthworks or ditches found by aerial survey that
we should study, important though these undoubtedly are.
It is also the nature of artefact creation, use and deposition,
the form of buildings, the use of space, and the nature of
technology that all bear on the way society ordered and
reproduced itself. Without an attempt to contextualise
by making use of these and other factors, without getting
away from a one-dimensional view of the past that looks
at the sites themselves and ignores the world around, any
interpretation of enclosure in a given period will merely be
a modernistic imposition on the ancient data.
The creation of enclosures was a complex phenomenon
related both to the nature of societies, to the status and
prestige of communities and individual members of them,
as well as to economic and ritual factors. We believe it is
unlikely that any one function, e.g. defence, was the only
one at a given site or in a given period, or that any one
explanation can adequately account for the phenomenon of
enclosing. The authors of these articles have attempted to
explore the complexity of enclosure in the ancient past, and
to indicate some possible ways in which its interpretation
can advance.
1: Enclosures and fortifications in Central Europe
Evžen Neustupný
Abstract: Like any human artefacts, enclosures and
fortifications necessarily serve some purpose: practical
function, social meaning and/or symbolic significance.
Traditional archaeology of the historising type often
assumed enclosures to be artefacts endowed with a
practical function (fences, kraals, etc.), while fortifications
were believed to have a predominantly social meaning, i.e.
they were considered to be defences against a human enemy.
These kinds of interpretation still survive, although more
recently enclosures have been supposed to have a symbolic
significance. It will be argued that irrespective of the fact
that enclosures and fortifications could have had a practical
function and/or social significance on occasions, their main
purpose in prehistoric Europe (and possibly in later periods
as well) was their symbolic significance connected with
movement in the vertical dimension.
Keywords: Enclosure, fortification, social meaning,
symbolic significance, warfare
Like any human products, both enclosures and
fortifications, which represent basically the same artefacts,
necessarily serve some purpose: practical function, social
meaning and/or symbolic significance.
Modern people, going on a ‘commonsense’ approach,
mostly believe that enclosures and fortifications are
constructed to prevent bad people from entering an area
to carry out theft, robbery or violence against other people
and/or their property. Another frequently cited reason for
enclosing an area is to prevent domestic animals from
moving outside and wild animals from moving inside. These
and similar assumptions about the purpose of enclosures
and fortifications have been derived from the observation
of similar constructions of the last few centuries, and have
been supported by the written record pertaining mainly to
European environments.
While considering these simple commonsense
explanations, it is fair to admit that many prehistoric
enclosures in Europe have been explained in recent years
by a number of authors in a different way. For example,
the ‘rondels’ of the Lengyel culture have been recognised
as cult (or social and cult) features (Podborský 1988; 1999;
this volume), having nothing to do with defence against a
human enemy.
In contrast to enclosures, however, the case of prehistoric
‘fortifications’ is more complicated; the assumption of their
function as a means of defence against a human enemy has
been common right up to the present day (Vencl 1997). As
far as I know, their primary and/or exclusive purpose as
installations for prehistoric warfare was only questioned in
the middle 1990s (Neustupný 1995).
1: The analysis of purpose
The views that I am going to develop in this paper are based
on my typology of purpose published a number of times
1
since 1986 (Neustupný 1986, 1993, 1995, etc.). I assume
that purpose represents the foundation of the structure of
artefacts. The category of purpose as applied to artefacts
has three aspects: practical function; social meaning; and
symbolic significance.
• The practical function of artefacts relates to their
suitability to affect and/or change objects or conditions of
the external world. People purposefully apply artefacts
to achieve their practical goals. The practical function
is obvious with tools such as an axe; the function of a
house is to provide shelter against bad weather, etc. The
practical function of a circular enclosure may be to keep
domestic animals in one place and prevent them from
moving about in the landscape.
• Another kind of purpose of artefacts is their social
meaning, or their capability to support social relations
among people, essentially in the process of specialisation.
People sometimes apply artefacts purposefully to
maintain social relations. However, while practical
function and symbolic significance are fully perceived
by those who exploit them, at least some social relations
are realised outside individual awareness. Being things,
artefacts do not create social relations by themselves
but, at the same time, social relations cannot develop
without artefacts. The meaning of a house is to maintain
or to strengthen family relations; combat weapons (even
those made of soft materials) mean ritual warfare; and
the commonly assumed social meaning of a fortification
is to defend a group against the attack of another group
of population.
• The third aspect of purpose is the symbolic significance
of artefacts, or their competence to communicate ideas.
People purposefully apply artefacts to communicate
either with other people or with non-human beings (dead
ancestors, spirits, gods, etc., whom they consider to be
comparable to humans, and therefore subject to com-
munication). Messaging by means of symbolic artefacts
is one of the most important types of communication.
A Neolithic house may possess symbolic significance
if it communicates an idea to other people, foreign or
domestic. For example, the house may communicate
the idea of wealth, that of a complete family, etc. An
enclosure may communicate that its place is sacred
and/or protected against bad spirits. It may tell the
spirits that they must not enter. Religious ceremonies in
general assist human communication with supernatural
beings and, therefore, objects serving religious cults are
always artefacts endowed with some sort of symbolic
significance.
I would like to draw attention to the fact that social
meaning and symbolic significance are two different
aspects of purpose. Social relations are authentic, factual
(artefactual) ties within a society, created by specialisation
in the process of the creation and the use of artefacts,
irrespective of whether these ties are communicated to
anybody (i.e. expressed in a symbolic system) or not.
For example, the relationship between men and women,
Enclosing the Past
and between heads of families and commoners, is symbolised
by graves with interred pairs of cows or oxen in the Middle
Eneolithic period (some men owned the cattle while others
did not). In the preceding and the following periods there
were no such symbols (graves of draught animals), but it is
obvious that the social relations they symbolised were still
present. The appearance of permanent fields, draught cattle,
and a wooden ard (plough) sufficed to support certain social
relations by means of their social meaning, while their
symbolic expression was not considered to be indispensable
in all periods and sub-periods of prehistory.
Another important feature of purpose is the fact that its
individual aspects mostly combine: artefacts have practical
function, social meaning and symbolic significance at the
same time. For example, an enclosure may simultaneously
serve:
• a practical purpose or function (e.g. not letting animals
in or out);
• a social purpose or meaning (e.g. making access more
difficult for human enemies); and
• a symbolic purpose or significance (e.g. encircling a
sacred area).
This is why some authors make practical function almost
an absolute (which is easy, as some practical function is
nearly always present with artefacts) while others assume
that artefacts had no function other than their symbolic
meaning (since any artefact can be used for some kind of
communication). I am going to argue that all such views
are one-sided.
As the three aspects always come together in the real life
of prehistoric communities, it is very likely that prehistoric
people themselves were often unable to separate them.
Archaeologists who do not differentiate between the three
aspects of purpose actually remain at the level of such
prehistoric people. However, if archaeologists are interested
in how the purpose of artefacts is structured, they have to
analyse it into its logical constituents.
2: The purpose of enclosures and
fortifications
The practical function of enclosures and
fortifications
Once people use an enclosure, they cannot help giving it
a practical function. Any kind of physical barrier has many
practical advantages, as well as many disadvantages.
In the case of enclosures and fortifications whose interior
was inhabited in prehistoric times, a number of practical
functions can be assumed. Although it is frequently
difficult to demonstrate that the settlement of the interior is
contemporaneous with the enclosure, this is still very likely
in at least some instances.
Living in an enclosed area brings the advantage of a
restricted space. For example, babies and children cannot
walk out to get lost in the forest, wild animals cannot easily
get inside, and domestic animals cannot move freely across
the physical barrier. The concentration of people and their
artefacts within an enclosure also has disadvantages, for
example, in the case of fire, in causing local erosion, etc.
All this represents the side-effects of enclosed space. I
question whether there is any well-documented prehistoric
fortification for which the practical function can be assumed
2
as the primary and decisive (determining) purpose, in spite
of this being repeatedly suggested by some archaeologists.
The social meaning of enclosures and
fortifications
In the following paragraphs I am going to discuss two
kinds of social meaning of prehistoric enclosures and
fortifications often suggested as possible explanations of
such artefacts: their defensive military role; and their role
in prehistoric commerce.
Defensive military installations
In general, war and violence represent a typical social
relation. Therefore, artefacts that assist the conduct of war
and/or defence have social meaning. This has often been
the sole explanation for prehistoric fortifications and for
many enclosures (e.g. Vencl 1983, 1984, 1997, etc.). Seven
years ago I questioned this explanation of fortifications for a
number of reasons (Neustupný 1995). My argument can be
summarised as follows:
• Any fortification can serve its defensive purpose only if
it is defended. But many prehistoric fortifications are so
huge that the small prehistoric communities of Central
Europe, consisting of several families, could not guard
and protect them.
• In many instances prehistoric fortifications are situated
far from the densely inhabited areas, frequently in places
where there is sparse or no contemporaneous settlement
around. This is typical for the case of La Tène period
but common in many other instances.
• In some locations ‘fortifications’ are built on high
mountains difficult of access. The effort necessary to
reach them contrasts with the practical aspects of human
life.
• There are many instances of so-called incomplete
fortifications that leave considerable parts of the defence
line unprotected.
• In some cases so-called fortifications are rather
problematic because their defences are either too
shallow (in the case of ditches) or too low (in the case of
ramparts).
• The ditches, especially those of Neolithic and Eneolithic
age, have an unnecessary number of entrances (so-
called causewayed camps) that weaken their defensive
function.
• If there was any military tactic in prehistoric times, in
addition to ritual warfare, it was an unexpected attack on
villages (Shnirelman 1994). Large fortifications, which
could not be defended by small prehistoric communities,
provided dubious protection against such attacks.
While it cannot be excluded that so-called fortifications
were used to defend people against human enemies
from time to time, the arguments to the contrary clearly
demonstrate that defence against a human enemy could not
be their prime purpose.
At this point I have to refrain from explaining the theory of
ritual or symbolic warfare (Neustupný 1998) that in my view
is able to explain the phenomenon of fortification. Ritual
warfare, however, is a sort of communication and, therefore,
does not enter into the concept of social significance.

Trading stations (markets)
Another explanation of fortifications and/or enclosures is
trade. Trade is a social relation supported by artefacts and
ecofacts. In contrast to defence, trading is not a traditional,
modernising explanation. Prehistoric trading has so far
been considered mainly from the point of view of the items
exchanged and their movement over space, while studies
pertaining to the process of exchange and to the areas where
this process took place are unusual.
The model assumed for prehistoric trading was frequently
either itinerant merchants who went from one village
to another (or from one fortification to another), or step-
by-step trade between neighbouring communities. The
idea that there could have been markets, special locations
destined for trade where people possibly from distant places
came from time to time, has not often been investigated in
greater detail. However, prehistoric ‘forts’ were frequently
considered to be places where commercial activities also
took place; in this case trade was mostly explained as a
secondary function of fortifications.
Yet, if prehistoric fortifications are viewed as areas of
trading, this explains a lot. Some points listed against the
defensive theory still apply, but on the whole we get a much
less vulnerable explanation. Even the position of some
of the ‘fortifications’ outside densely settled areas can be
explained, as the idea of transferring the trading location
to a distant and therefore neutral place does not lack logic.
Clearly, the explanation of fortifications as market locations
deserves more attention from archaeologists.
The symbolic significance of enclosures
and fortifications
To explain enclosures and fortifications exclusively or
predominantly by means of practical function and/or social
meaning (the military hypothesis) seemed to be a reasonable
assumption as long as it was believed that prehistoric societies
had been ruled by principles of rationality, something that
modern people assume in their own case (while the reality is
often different). Such explanations were usually connected
with theories according to which prehistoric communities
consisted of savages fighting for their lives with both
nature and other savages. Contemporary archaeology and
anthropology (e.g. Sahlins 1974; Boserup 1965), however,
provide evidence that:
1. life was easy in prehistoric times (although not entirely
safe), as both hunting and simple agriculture supplied
enough food and, therefore, left plenty of leisure time to
virtually everybody; and
2. ritual warfare, practised in many periods of prehistory,
was not a matter of mass slaughter, as fighting mostly
took place between individuals and/or small groups of
people (Shnirelman 1994).
In a world that ran in accordance with such principles,
there was no regular dying of hunger, no need for much
fighting for survival, and no need for the economy to be
concentrated on the bare necessities of life.
For these very reasons, many artefacts could have
been created just for the purpose of communicating with
3
Neustupný: Enclosures and fortifications in Central Europe
other people. Even tools and other artefacts believed, by
definition, to be very practical (such as spear-throwers, axes
or houses) demonstrably had properties that clearly served
communication, i.e. they had symbolic significance. Nearly
all human creations in prehistory possessed some kind of
symbolic decoration, and could have been used for contact
with supernatural powers. In this sense, people enjoyed
more freedom in prehistoric times than in later periods
of history, when artefacts such as pottery (but also many
tools, for example) were produced according to the strict
requirements of economy.
Symbols and signs, which also include natural language,
form the basis for human communication. Signs are arbitrary
and symbols either arbitrary or semi-arbitrary. This means
that they do not represent, as a rule, anything similar to
their material form; they signify something else. This is
important to realise, as simple forms of semantic analysis
cannot reliably enable us to understand the significance of
symbols. The arbitrary relationship between a symbol and
its form is the main obstacle that archaeologists encounter
in their effort to decipher ancient symbols.
There are two principal problems to be solved while
approaching the symbolic significance of ancient artefacts:
• The realisation that an artefact was used as a symbol
for communication. This is the easier task of the two,
especially if it is possible to argue that certain properties
of the artefacts cannot be explained (or fully explained)
by their practical function and/or social meaning.
• The determination of the contents of the communicated
message. To uncover this message is one of the most
difficult missions of archaeology, so difficult that
many archaeologists tried to overcome the problem
by depending on completely subjective assumptions,
mainly using the method of empathy or ethnological
parallels.
The difficulties are basically caused by the arbitrary
character of the signs and symbols of which the
communication consists. The way out of these difficulties
may rest in the so-called limitation of arbitrariness and the
reconstruction of the possible topics of communication (past
concepts). I shall now explain this methodology as applied
to enclosures and fortifications.
The first problem is: is there any reason to believe that
enclosures and fortifications served as symbols used for
communication? This is equivalent to asking whether
enclosures and fortifications can be fully explained by their
practical function and/or social meaning, a question that
I have already discussed. I concluded that these types of
immovable artefacts did not have any important practical
function or social meaning in the sphere of defence against
human enemies that could fully account for them.
At the same time, it seemed likely that they could have had
a meaning as market places. However, this kind of purpose
does not create a sufficient basis to explain the erection of
such time-consuming constructions as many enclosures
and fortifications represent. Markets could easily operate
without any enclosure, and could have been surrounded by
a light fence if any demarcation was needed.
However, there is rich evidence that prehistoric enclosures
and fortifications were used in religious ceremonies
(e.g. Bertemes 1991); I have already suggested that they
represented communication with supernatural forces.
Therefore, there is no doubt that prehistoric enclosures and
fortifications had large-scale symbolic significance.
Enclosing the Past
The second problem, that of reconstructing past messages,
consists of the search for their particular content, i.e. what they
signify. It necessarily begins with the quest for conceptual
categories (including their linguistic meaning as expressed
in a natural language) that could produce enclosures and
fortifications. Was there any important concept in prehistoric
life that required communication, and that can be related in
some way to artefacts such as enclosures and fortifications?
Clearly, to derive such conceptual categories we have to use
a theoretical model of the appropriate part of the past.
I argued previously that one of the important concepts
of the past was movement in the vertical dimension
(Neustupný 1995). This was mainly so because prehistoric
people lived more or less in two dimensions (on a plane),
which made movement in the third direction something
rare, extraordinary and, therefore, a candidate for symbolic
significance. This is a contrast to our modern life where
moving up and down is a matter of course that does not elicit
any feeling of strangeness. Prehistoric people may not have
realised movement in the vertical dimension in an abstract
form, but rather in a number of particular acts accomplished
while creating immovable artefacts. Theoretically, some
communities may not have felt this movement as anything
that needed to be designated by means of a symbol,
but many have done so using the pertinent symbols for
communication.
At the same time, any continuous line delineated by an
enclosure (even if interrupted) is something that does not
appear in nature; it is an element that creates order, a
structure in the human world. Therefore, continuous lines
breaking the horizontal plane and delimiting enclosures
must have had a connotation of order (possibly sacred).
I have selected just these two concepts – moving in the
vertical direction and creating a continuous line – because
the building of enclosures and/or fortifications produced
artefacts that reached into the vertical dimension and, at the
same time, created spatially delimited closed areas.
In deriving conceptual categories, we have to take into
consideration the fact of oppositions, which are always
present in any symbolic system. The major opposition
to the digging of ditches and construction of ramparts is
represented by everyday life in two dimensions. Ditches
and ramparts opposed other symbols connected with the life
and death of people in other sectors of the social world.
Symbols and signs, however, are not absolutely arbitrary.
One way that the arbitrariness of symbols is limited is their
nesting; this means that (formally) similar symbols and
signs tend to relate to similar concepts. Nesting of signs
and symbols is one of the forms of limiting arbitrariness.
Without going into details I would like to recall that
the horizontal plane is also broken if a grave is dug and a
barrow heaped over the grave. In addition to these obvious
parallels to enclosures and fortifications, prehistoric people
frequently conceived of the building of family houses in
conformity with this logic. In other words, graves, barrows,
ramparts, ditches, and sometimes houses constitute a nest of
symbols. Some culture groups were so fundamentalist that
they preferred to stay without any digging under the surface
except for the digging of graves. This was, for example, the
case of the Corded Ware Culture in most regions of Central
Europe (Neustupný 1997).
Similarly, the enclosed area belongs to the same nest as
the wheel and the symbol of the sun. Belonging to a nest of
4
symbols does not mean identity of their symbolic messages,
but it certainly limits the arbitrariness of individual symbols
contained in the nest.
Starting with the rather general definition of sacredness
that ensues from the preceding paragraphs, one can build
further concepts and look for their symbols. As we move
up this avenue of our understanding of ancient symbols,
we have to be careful not to go too far. In my view, the
significance of prehistoric symbols and signs cannot be
reconstructed otherwise than in more or less general outline.
Also, what belongs formally to one nest of symbols may
not belong to the same nest from the point of view of its
significance.
Many archaeologists, while trying to determine the
significance of prehistoric symbols, have recourse to
ethnohistoric parallels that usually supply particular and
highly animate solutions for the problem. I am rather
sceptical in relation to this methodology, as such parallels
depend on too many historical circumstances that are
difficult to separate from each other. Therefore, the method
of ethnohistoric parallels provides us with a variety of
explanations from which it is impossible (and unjustifiable)
to select one or more than one; this causes the method to fail
in most instances. If parallels are looked for systematically,
one can usually find a parallel for any solution that one cares
to imagine.
Bibliography
Bertemes, F. 1991. Untersuchungen zur Funktion der Erdwerke
der Michelsberger Kultur im Rahmen der Kupferzeitlichen
Zivilisation. In J. Lichardus (ed.) Die Kupferzeit als histor-
ische Epoche. Symposium Saarbrücken und Otzenhausen
6–13.11.1988. Teil 1, pp. 441–464. Bonn: R. Habelt.
Boserup, E. 1965. The Conditions of Agricultural Growth. Chi-
cago: Aldine.
Neustupný, E. 1986. Nástin archeologické metody – An outline of
the archaeological method. Archeologické rozhledy 38:525–
549.
Neustupný, E. 1993. Archaeological Method. Cambridge: Uni-
versity Press.
Neustupný, E. 1995. The significance of facts. Journal of Euro-
pean Archaeology 3,1:189–212.
Neustupný, E. 1997. Šňůrová sídliště, kulturní normy a symboly
– Settlement sites of the Corded Ware groups, cultural norms
and symbols. Archeologické rozhledy 49:304–322.
Neustupný, E. 1998. Structures and events: the theoretical basis
of spatial archaeology. In E. Neustupný (ed.) Space in prehis-
toric Bohemia, pp. 9–44. Prague: Archeologický ústav.
Podborský, V. 1988. Těšetice-Kyjovice 4: Rondel osady lidu s
moravskou malovanou keramikou. Brno.
Podborský, V. (ed.) 1999. Pravěká sociokultovní architektura na
Moravě. Brno: Ústav archeologie a muzeologie MU.
Sahlins, M. 1974. Stone Age Economics. London: Tavistock.
Shnirelman, V. 1994. Voyna i mir v ranney istorii chelovechestva.
Moscow: Institut etnologii i antropologii.
Vencl, S. 1983. K problematice fortifikací v archeologii – For-
tifications and their problems in archaeology. Archeologické
rozhledy 35:284–315.
Vencl, S. 1984. Otázky poznání vojenství v archeologii – Problems
relating to the knowledge of warfare in archaeology. Archeo-
logické studijní materiály 14. Prague: AÚ ČSAV.
Vencl, S. 1997. K problému počátků pravěkých fortifikací. Sborník
Prací Filosofické Fakulty Brnĕnské University M2.
2: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia: the evidence from
the air
Martin Gojda
Abstract: This paper presents a survey of the current state of
knowledge of large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia (Czech
Republic), a type of feature whose number has increased
dramatically recently with the introduction 15 years ago
of aerial reconnaissance to the prospection methods of
Bohemian archaeology. A size-based classification of
enclosures in Bohemia, their relationship to the central
European context of large Eneolithic ditch/palisade
enclosures, and a summary of results achieved during a
six-year project of the Institute of Archaeology (Prague)
entitled “Settlement Patterns in Prehistoric Bohemia – The
Potential of Non-Destructive Archaeology” are the main
themes of the paper. Special attention is paid to a complex
survey of a large prehistoric enclosure at Kly. The intention
is to show what possibilities there are for achieving an
understanding of the size, age and function of an extensive
prehistoric enclosed area using a combination of landscape
archaeological survey methods. The paper also shows that
even in a region which, in terms of archaeological activities is
among the best researched parts of the so-called ‘old settled
land’ (the area at the confluence of the Elbe and Vltava, a
large number of prehistoric and early medieval settlements
survive, about whose existence nothing was known until
recently because of an absence of suitable methods.
Keywords: aerial reconnaissance, enclosure, landscape,
non-destructive archaeology, prehistoric settlement,
Eneolithic
Introduction
The study of the structure and dynamics of prehistoric
settlement is a process which integrates sources of
heterogeneous character in the course of discovery. Their
quantity and quality is dependent on several factors, such
as the long-term presence of archaeologists in a particular
region (or conversely the long-term absence of any
archaeological activity), the degree to which earlier source
material has been processed, the precision of recording, and
so on. At the same time an understanding of past settlement
behaviour, over space that is significantly larger than points
or ‘sites’, requires the application of special research
methods to draw together and process the source material.
One of the methods which can fundamentally affect our
understanding of settlement structures, in particular their
quality and density, and the topography of settlement, is
aerial archaeological prospection.
The aim of the first part of the paper is to present a
survey of large prehistoric enclosures, a type of feature
which came to light as recently as ten years ago when aerial
reconnaissance was introduced to the prospection methods
of Bohemian archaeology. The enclosures are then placed
within a broader European context of large Eneolithic
ditched/palisaded enclosures.
The second part of the paper provides a summary of
5
results achieved during a six-year project of the Institute
of Archaeology (Prague) entitled Settlement Patterns in
Prehistoric Bohemia. The Potential of Non-Destructive
Archaeology (hereafter SPPB), aimed at the application
of non-invasive methods combined with small-scale
excavations on sites detected from the air. Special attention
is paid to the complex survey of a large enclosure at Kly, distr.
Mělník (Fig.2.1). I intend to show, in one specific site type,
what possibilities there are for obtaining an understanding
of the size, age and function of an extensive site using a
combination of landscape archaeological survey methods.
At the same time, I want to show that even in an area which
belongs to the best researched regions of the so-called ‘old
settled land‘ (the area at the confluence of the Elbe and Vltava
rivers), there are many indications of prehistoric and Early
Medieval settlement, the existence of which was previously
unknown because of an absence of suitable instrumentation.
This is more than just a conspicuous growth in the number
of archaeological contexts (sites). No less important has
been the fundamental shift in our cognition away from
the perspective of a qualitative structure of settlement
phenomena (diversity in the composition of types of buried
monuments). The western and southern parts of the Mělník
district in particular are, from the point of view of Quaternary
geology, a classic example of terrain predestined for the
prospection of buried archaeological features with the help
of aerial survey. The long-term, systematic application of
this method in the area has borne fruit in the discovery of
dozens of linear features of different types and sizes.
Large prehistoric enclosures in Central
Europe
In Central Europe the appearance of large ditch/palisade
enclosures is associated with the arrival of Eneolithic
cultures, and in particular with the TRB (Funnel Beaker)
Culture (Baalberg, Salzmünde and Bernburg/Walternienburg
phases) and with the Michelsberg Culture. As with
Neolithic ‘rondels’, this group of ditched enclosures has
greatly increased in number in recent years (see e.g. Braasch
1996; Christlein and Braasch 1982; Planck et al. 1994;
Becker (ed.) 1996). A characteristic feature of this type of
Neolithic/Eneolithic enclosure or earthwork (Erdwerk in
German terminology) is its size; the majority can be classed
as large enclosures (see below for classification, Fig.2.2).
Most of them are known from Germany (Boelicke 1976),
where their appearance has most commonly been associated
with the bearers of the Michelsberg Culture.
This culture is widespread in southwest Germany
(Baden-Württemberg), Alsace, Lorraine, Lower Hesse,
and Switzerland, and in the west it encroaches on the Paris
Basin. The eastern half of its distribution occupies Central
Germany, Bohemia and Silesia. Both those settlements that
are situated in elevated positions, but also those in lowland
Enclosing the Past

Figure 2.1. The course of the large, Late Eneolithic enclosure at Kly (district Mělník), reconstructed on the basis of the
results of non-destructive surveys conducted between 1997 and 2000 (aerial prospection, geophysical survey, GPS). S =
trench 1/99. A digitised extract of an SMO 1:5000 scale map was used as a base, along with rectified aerial photographs.
areas surrounded by a system of multiple (often interrupted) settlement area of the Michelsberg Culture (Fig.2.3). The
ditches and palisades, are characteristic for this culture. dimensions of this large site are imposing. It consisted of
Human skeletons are quite often found in the interior, as a system of two parallel ditches, completed by a palisade
well as in settlement pits. Substantial quantities of pottery trench situated behind them (as seen from the outside). We
are found in the fills of features, particularly the typical tulip- have here the relatively common case of a ditched enclosure,
shaped beakers and cups. The site type was discovered and the circumference of which straightens in places in order to
investigated as long ago as the 1890s. fit in with natural breaks in terrain. The enclosure in Urmitz
The biggest European prehistoric ditched enclosure of all has an irregular oval shape over the whole length of the
– Urmitz near Koblenz in Rheinland-Pfalz – lies right in the preserved outer ditch circumference of around 2.5km. It

6
 Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia

Figure 2.2. Selected enclosures (Erdwerke) of the Michelsberg Culture (after various authors): 1. Miel; 2. Mayen;
3. Boitsfort; 4. Wiesbaden-Schierstein; 5. Heilbronn-Hetzenberg; 6. Michelsberg/Untergrombach; 7. Heilbronn-Ilsfeld;
8. Munzingen.

7
Enclosing the Past
Figure 2.3. Urmitz (Rheinland/Pfalz, Germany): plan of the largest known Neolithic earthwork in Europe (after Boelicke
1976).
reaches a maximum diameter of 840m and covers an area of
c. 100 hectares. On the northern side the feature is delimited
by the edge of the terraces above the river Rhine. The outer
and inner ditch, and the inner ditch and palisade trench, are
9m apart from each other. The inner ditch is interrupted
in 34 places, the outer in 25, but these data are incomplete
because approximately a third of the course of the ditched
enclosure has not been preserved. The same applies to the
trench, which was found to be interrupted in five places; a
so-called bastion or, in some cases a cluster of round pits,
was always a component of these entrances. These clusters
have, however, also been identified in other places along the
circumference of the palisade (twelve in total), outside the
interruptions (Boelicke 1976).
The Urmitz site displays some noteworthy similarities
with the enclosure at Kly, and considerably advances our
knowledge about the spread and reception of ideas over a
wide area of Central Europe, one expression of which was
the building of enclosures at the beginning of the Neolithic.
One must add that further large curvilinear enclosures – for
example in Sachsen-Anhalt – are associated with TRB or
with Bernburg/Walternienburg cultures (e.g. Derenburg,
Freckleben, Gollma, Krisigk; cf. Fröhlich 1997), and
within the framework of Central Europe it is not possible
to identify these features solely with the Michelsberg
Culture. Recently Erdwerke have been interpreted rather
as symbolic enclosures (the manifestation of a slightly
developed hierarchical society), having a function other than
defensive or economic, and this agrees with both British and
8
Scandinavian contemporary interpretations of Neolithic/
Eneolithic enclosures (cf. Zápotocký 2000:243).
Finally, I must mention the discovery of large enclosures
of prehistoric origin recently made during aerial survey in
Moravia. Practically none of them has been precisely dated
(the age of the feature in Měnín, district Brno-venkov, which
has been partially excavated and dated to the Early Bronze
Age, is not unambiguous), but their character, particularly
their shape and size, indicates that at least two of these
enclosures have a strong probability of falling in the earlier
Eneolithic. Firstly, there is a large double enclosure with
an oval plan at Blučina, district Brno-venkov (Bálek 1999),
which displays similarities to the Kly feature in several
respects (morphology, size, system of interrupted entrances,
evidence of settlement on the site already in the Neolithic).
Secondly, a triple ditch forms a semicircular plan near to
the break in slope above the water course at Hrušovany nad
Jevišovkou, district Znojmo (Colour Plate 1; Bálek 2000).
Aerial archaeological survey and
prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
In this study I shall examine one of these site types,
to whose discovery and identification in Bohemia and
Moravia (just as in some other European countries) aerial
archaeology has contributed in decisive fashion. Larger
linear (ditched) enclosures are a significant phenomenon in
prehistoric landscapes from the Neolithic to the Iron Age

(e.g. Podborský 1999). It is not difficult to demonstrate
that their occurrence in the Bohemian landscape before the
inception of aerial archaeological projects at the beginning of
the 90s was limited to isolated cases of rectangular features
and so-called Neolithic ‘rondels’. This state of affairs was
a reflection of the possibilities of traditional archaeological
survey over the previous century (traces of the first ‘rondel’
to be discovered in Bohemia in the parish of Krpy in the
Mladá Boleslav region, were described in 1886 – cf. Rulf
1992:7; Pavlů 1982:176). Not until after new methods for
discovery in landscape archaeology started to be practiced
in Czech archaeology in parallel with traditional methods
of field excavation, and when at least some of our specialist
public started to take an intensive interest in the study of
the social dimension of the cultural landscape in prehistory,
was it possible to expect a fundamental shift in our
understanding of settlement structure as regards its intensity,
quality, density, continuity and diversity in relation to field
morphology. A not insignificant aspect of the research
methods of landscape archaeology is their non-destructive
(in some cases slightly destructive) character. This aspect
is also one of the main reasons why the landscape approach
in contemporary archaeology is growing in popularity so
markedly.
Since the beginning of the systematic pursuit of aerial
survey in Bohemia in the 1990s, two basic categories of
features have been identified. Approximately 75% of the
total number is represented by spot features, so-called
maculae (sunken dwellings, pits, graves, etc.), and the
remainder are linear features (ditches, enclosures). Their
morphological range was summarised after the first five
years of the survey (Gojda 1997).
Just one group of linear features will be dealt with here,
designated linear closed formations or enclosures. We are
dealing with those sites which occupy a larger or smaller area
(from tens of square metres to several hectares) and which
are totally or partially enclosed by a ditch and in some cases
by a system of ditches and palisade trenches. In the light of
the ever-increasing number of ditched enclosures and the
escalating range of morphologies and sizes of these features,
it is more and more difficult to understand this phenomenon
as the reflection of a unified idea. The great majority of these
features remain uninvestigated; where excavation has taken
place, only enclosures of the small enclosure group have been
examined completely (see below). Medium sized and large
enclosures on the other hand, have with some exceptions
(e.g. the ‘rondel’ in Těšetice-Kyjovice; see Podborský and
Kovárník, this volume) only been investigated by means
of one or more cross-sections, covering a small part of the
total area. The primary question is to decide which criteria
to choose for the classification of enclosures: is the shape
of these features important (regular/irregular, curvilinear/
rectilinear); the existence of interrupted entrances (and
their number and symmetry in their location); the number
of ditches and their profiles; or their size? Are attempts
to group together and find some hidden unifying principles
or archetypes for their interpretation at all justifiable in the
case of these linear closed formations which are so diverse
in scale, which were built over several millennia, and about
whose function and purpose we know so little, with the
exception of small enclosures which tend to be part of sites
that can be unambiguously labelled burials (on this matter
see e.g. Podborský 1999; Kovárník 1997)?
The following basic division by size of the characteristic
9
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
and widespread phenomenon of prehistoric enclosure (as
is increasingly evident from ongoing research since 1945)
is based on the database obtained by aerial survey by the
Institute of Archaeology, Czech Academy of Sciences,
Prague. I shall discuss the following enclosure groups (for
more details see Gojda ed. 2004):
Small enclosures with a diameter of around 5–25/30
metres (round/oval features) or of the length of one side
of c. 5–15/20 metres (rectangular features). In brief, their
characteristic features are that the internal area is either
empty or contains a centrally placed spot feature (macula),
and the ditches are either uninterrupted around the whole
circumference or are interrupted by an entrance in one or
more places. We mostly interpret these features as tumulus
burial sites or as surface graves symbolically enclosed by
a ditch, but we can only be certain where a point feature
(macula) or a grave pit or chamber occurs in the centre
of the enclosure. If this component is missing, it can be
presumed that the burial was either placed on the surface
of the ground or in the covering tumulus, but it cannot be
ruled out that the feature originally fulfilled a completely
different function. The interpretation of circles with
several entrances, which are placed uniformly around their
circumference, is problematic. Rectangular features also
occur either with or without an entrance (a larger number
of interrupted entrances has not as yet been ascertained).
Some of them have straight corners, others rounded. The
basic shapes are square, oblong and trapezoid. These
characteristics expand to include rectangular enclosures
of a further two size groups. In the case of both round
and rectangular features, only exceptionally are multiple
concentric ditches encountered. In passing we may mention
Flanders as an example of an area in which hundreds (more
than 650) of previously unknown ring ditches have been
discovered through aerial survey over a relatively short time
(15 years); previously only 25 of these features were known
(Ampe et al. 1996:62).
Medium sized enclosures of diameter of around 30–
100/150 metres (round/oval sites; rectangular structures,
the length of the sides in the order of tens of metres). This
category mainly consists of the so-called ‘rondels’, that is
features of the Later Neolithic (in Bohemia the LBK). Their
most important characteristics are a regular circular shape
formed of 1–3 ditches (Colour Plate 3), often supplemented
with palisade trenches and further entrances (the majority
placed at regular distances), and a similar size range (for
the classification of ‘rondels’ see Rulf 1995). According
to Rulf (1992:8), their diameter is in the range of 35–146
metres, while the median of the outer diameter of all
known ‘rondels’ is 76 metres. However, according to other
authorities, ‘rondels’ reach an average of up to 300m in
diameter (Podborský 1988:246; Kuzma 1997:20). These
measurements do not apply to the ‘rondels’ themselves,
but to the ditches which sometimes occur enclosing the
area around the ‘rondel’, which is located approximately in
their centre. For example at the Těšetice ‘rondel’, the outer
enclosure has a diameter of around 195×160m and in the case
of the Bylany ‘rondel’ 250m. The majority of other outer
ditched enclosures were uncovered by aerial photography
and have not been investigated to date (Rulf 1995:90). Apart
from the well-known ‘rondel’ in Lochenice, which was
investigated in 1981–3 and picked up by aerial photography
from soil marks from 1995 onwards, we have been able
to identify features of this type through aerial survey near
Enclosing the Past

Figure 2.4. Chleby, distr. Nymburk. Large enclosure, one of those which have been tested by limited excavations. The ditch
complemented by a palisade dates to the early phase of the Eneolithic (perhaps the Funnel Beaker culture), although the site
was re-occupied during the Hallstatt period as it has been demonstrated by the excavation of a sunken house. On this image
resulting from geophysical survey a lot of pits and sunken-featured buildings are discernible as dispersed dots.

Benátky nad Jizerou (district Mladá Boleslav), in Skupice
(district Louny), Straškov (district Litoměřice) and Želízy
(district Mělník; this feature, whose inclusion amongst the
‘classic rondels’ is still uncertain, is the first case of a round
enclosure situated in an elevated position). Further sites are
questionable. As concerns rectangular enclosures, Hallstatt
period farmsteads, for example, fall into this size group
(e.g. the double/quadruple ditched enclosures which occur
relatively frequently in Bavaria, e.g. Becker 1996; Leidorf
1996), the so-called Viereckschanzen of the Iron Age (e.g.
Irlinger 1996) and fortified features of the modern period
(the majority polygonal: redoubts and similar forts).
Large enclosures with a diameter (or length of side) of
several hundred metres. Whereas rectangular features of
this size are exclusively formed by a single ditch (in isolated
cases completed by a trench on the inner side), round
enclosures display greater variability. Apart from single
ditches, double (concentric) ditches also occur. Both variants
could also have palisade trenches on the inner side. A further
characteristic feature of this class of rectangular enclosures
is that the ditches tend to have causewayed entrances in
several places. This applies both to multiple enclosures;
in central Bohemia, apart from Kly, cases were recorded
from the air at Vrbně, district Mělník, and at Chleby, district
Nymburk (Fig. 2.4, Colour Plate 2), in northwest Bohemia
in Radíčeves, district Louny (pers. comm. Z. Smrž); and to
single enclosures (Opolany, district Nymburk; Trpoměchy,
district Kladno; Hrdly, district Litoměřice; Fig. 2.5). The
existence of these features, whose characteristics are most
reminiscent of the earliest enclosures of the British Neolithic
(the so-called causewayed enclosures) and of other large
enclosures (for example, in western France, Germany
and Denmark, from the 4th–3rd millennium BC), had not
been recorded in Bohemia before the application of aerial
survey. These large enclosures usually occur in lower lying
situations, but quite often they modify the alignment of part
of their circumference to fit in with the slope of the local
terrain where the natural elevation was sufficient defence
and there was no need for an artificial ditch. Some of this
group of sites were probably not enclosures in the true sense
of the word (the line of the ditch(es) was not closed either
because it remained unfinished, or because it was completed

10

Figure 2.5. Trpoměchy, distr. Kladno. An interrupted ditch surrounding a local solitary hill. The size of the enclosed area
is clearly visible on the image resulting from geophysical survey on the site. Two small-scale excavations suggest the ditch
most likely dates to the Hallstatt period.
by a naturally formed break in terrain). The rectangular sites
that are classed in this group consist primarily of military
facilities of both Roman period (Roman field/marching
camps, not yet recorded in Bohemia) and of medieval/
modern origin.
The discoveries of enclosed linear sites have great
significance for understanding the cultural landscape of
prehistoric Bohemia. Aerial survey has shown that the
phenomenon of enclosure was much more widespread here
than was ever supposed before such survey began. So far,
approximately one hundred locations where enclosures
occur have been recorded in the aerial photograph database
of the Institute of Archaeology in Prague. It is necessary to
add a further c. 70 sites from the database of the Institute
of Archaeological Monument Protection in Most (Z. Smrž,
pers. comm.), so the total is around 170. On many of the
sites a varied number of both rectangular and circular
features were discovered, often of different size categories
and in some cases combined with more or less extensive
accumulations of maculae of settlement type. Almost all
the linear closed formations found come from a small region
(compared with the country as a whole) consisting of parts
11
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
of central and northwest Bohemia (districts Prague-East,
Mělník, Kolín, Nymburk, Kladno, Litoměřice, Louny).
Among the best-known circular enclosures, which were
discovered (and archeologically investigated) by the end of
the 1980s (i.e. before the initiation of aerial prospection),
we can mention the classic ‘rondels’ (notably Krpy, Vochov,
Holohlavy, Lochenice, Bylany; summary in Rulf 1992,
1995). A small circular feature (diameter of 17m) can also
be added which was discovered on the edge of the Knovíz
Culture settlement in Čakovice (Soudský 1966), and two
medium-large rings (diameter of c.100m) near Horní
Metelsko in West Bohemia which have been interpreted
as features of henge type (Čujanová-Jílková 1975; this
interpretation was also supported by Podborský 1999b:10).
It follows from this brief comparison that photographs of
landscapes taken in the course of the 1990s from the air have
contributed decisively to the discovery of a little known (or
rather poorly documented) yet very important settlement
category. The ensuing excavation of these enclosures
cannot but contribute to the identification of their character,
age and function.
Enclosing the Past
The large enclosure at Kly, district
Mělník (central Bohemia) as a site of
special interest: a case study
The large curvilinear enclosure in the cadastre of Kly
(Mělník district) lies in a field east of the built-up part of
the village, in an area north of the local road that links the
village to the main Prague-Mělník road (Fig.2.1). The
enclosure is situated on a rise formed of Pleistocene wind-
blown sands, the western projection of which extends onto
the Elbe floodplain, into the area of the active river.
The site lies on the Mělnik plateau of the Bohemian
Cretaceous tableland, which spreads from Lysá nad Labem
to the Říp tableland, has a flat surface and is at present
characterised by the broad alluvial floodplain of the Elbe
with numerous oxbows (former meanders) and sandy
drifts (Hromádka 1968:458). It is an area with a complex
geomorphological development, the understanding and
reconstruction of which are key to interpreting the function
of the enclosure. The greater part of the Elbe valley formed
during the Holocene, which has resulted in the fact that
the area around what is now Kly does not reflect, in either
appearance or character, the landscape of the time when the
fortification was constructed.
The large linear formation discovered in the cadastre of
Kly village was selected by the author as an example typical
of its kind. Setting aside the fact that due to a combination
of circumstances this feature is the first large (prehistoric)
enclosure to be discovered in Bohemia by means of aerial
archaeology, the main reasons for this selection are:
1: the feature is located in one of the most densely settled
areas of Bohemia, which had in recent years been
intensively investigated archaeologically (throughout
the PSPB project, including both rescue and pre-emptive
work);
2: its area, dimensions and morphology are close to those
of sites known from the neighbourhood of the Bohemian
Basin;
3: it contains all the characteristic elements which in
such large enclosures are normally represented only
selectively (multiple ditches, palisade trench, interrupted
by entrances).
For these (and several other, less important) reasons, it was
decided to classify this feature as belonging to the group of
linear structures to which increased attention has been paid
within the framework of the PSPB project. The aim was
to extract the maximum amount of information that would
enable the dating and interpretation of this large enclosure,
through predominantly non-destructive methods (aerial
archaeological prospection, surface survey, geophysical
surveying) complemented by limited excavation (a section
across the ditch and trench system).
The large linear feature at Kly was discovered on 15 June
1997, in the course of the 64th survey flight undertaken by the
present author in the framework of the aerial archaeological
prospection programme that has been part of the programme
of the Institute of Archaeology of the Czech Academy
of Sciences since the beginning of the 1990s. A total of
three concentric lines (two thick and one thin), forming an
incomplete quarter segment of a circle or oval, were visible
as a darker shade on the surface of a field sown with winter
barley (Fig.2.6).
Taking the large prehistoric enclosure at Kly as an example,
12
it was shown in practice just how useful non-destructive
archaeological survey methods can be, especially when
combined with limited, targeted excavation.
In this chain of discovery methods, first place is
occupied by aerial archaeology. The advantageous con-
junction of conditions leading to objective evaluation
(soil/bedrock, climate, vegetation characteristics, light)
and the elimination of unfavourable subjective influences
(relatively little experience in aerial survey), led to discovery
– the identification of cropmarks indicating the existence of
buried archaeological features. Through discovery we gain
new understanding, encompassing information such as:
• at a specific site part a prehistoric settlement area is
found;
• this feature has either a linear or a non-linear character
(enclosure or macula respectively);
• its plan is identifiable either in whole or in part;
• the morphology (where the feature is enclosed) of the
feature allows / does not allow at least an approximate
dating, or in some cases allows its function (funerary,
residential, production, etc.) to be defined.
It can be seen that previously unknown archaeological
features identified by aerial prospection and documented
photographically yield information not only about the
existence of hitherto unknown settlement spots, but also
about the quality of the features discovered (their types,
sizes, plans, sometimes their functions). The Kly site
and other large prehistoric enclosures are examples of
archaeological features that without the application of aerial
survey would be virtually invisible. From this it follows
that the role of non-destructive prospection methods for the
understanding of prehistoric settlement structures in the so-
called ‘old settled land‘ is in practice irreplaceable.
Another link in the chain of survey activities is geophysical
prospection (Křivánek 2000). The fundamental importance
of geophysics stems from its ability to fill out information
regarding ground plans, e.g. the courses of enclosures, which
have been discovered from the air, in those areas where the
character of the land use (in the main uncultivated grass-
covered areas or land covered in undergrowth, small garden
plots, etc.) prevents subsurface archaeological features from
being visible. In the case of Kly (Fig. 2.7), geophysical
survey contributed primarily to two essential findings:
1: the enclosure extends both northwards, where it
terminates at a break of terrain running along the 160m
contour, and westwards, where it terminates some 50m
further than appeared on the air photos;
2: no further continuations were identified at any place
where geophysical prospection took place.
In this way, one of the main problems relating to the
reconstruction of the overall ground plan was resolved
(Fig. 2.8). The analysis of aerial photographs was unable
to resolve the question of whether the double ditch with
palisade only partitioned off the tongue-like extension of
the terrace level on the eastern side, or whether it formed a
closed feature (a circle/oval with a diameter of some 600m,
which does not cross the edge of the terrace towards the
floodplain). It might have been interpreted in this fashion if
one had worked from aerial photographs alone. The results
of the geophysical survey, however, unambiguously ruled
out this possibility, for two reasons:
1: the values recorded in the areas where on the air
photographs the course of the enclosure terminated,
showed that its continuations at the western and northern

Fig.2.6. Almost vertical photograph of the Kly enclosure (June 1997).
ends did not follow a round plan, but a straight line
heading towards the terrace edge;
2: systematic survey of the areas where the hypothetical
perimeter of the enclosure must have passed failed to
reveal even the slightest indication of the existence of a
buried ditch system.
The results obtained by surface survey (carried out by M.
Kuna) gave some idea of a trend in the prehistoric settlement
usage of the study area (Fig. 2.9). It indicated that throughout
prehistory settlement at this location was concentrated in
the area within the enclosure (i.e. both in the period before
its creation and after it ceased to function). The focus of
settlement activity gradually moved from the northern and
central parts of the area – where it concentrated in the earlier
period (the Neolithic) – to the western promontory (Bronze
Age – Roman Period). According to the results of surface
collection, confirmed also by trenching, the area was most
intensively settled in the earlier Neolithic, specifically during
the Stichbandkeramik period. The function of this earliest
settlement manifestation, however, cannot be ascertained.
The situation in the Eneolithic – close to the period during
whose early phases the area was surrounded by two ditches
and a palisade – is even worse. During the survey only two
sherds were found, and it is virtually impossible to interpret
the function of the enclosure on the basis of such limited
information. The movement of settlement activity within
the area – away from the enclosure – implies that no later
than the beginning of the Bronze Age the ditches no longer
fulfilled their function, and were probably filled in.
Finally, the efficacy of archaeological sondage can be
13
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
assessed. A trench (25×2.6m) was excavated by P. Foster,
running at right-angles to the line of the two parallel ditches
and palisade (Figs. 2.10, 2.11). The results confirmed that in
the case of large prehistoric enclosures (where, given their
scale, a narrow trench is a relatively minor intervention
into an undisturbed monument), excavation – conducted
with clearly defined goals and on a limited basis – can
make an essential contribution to the dating of the site, or
to an assessment of its age and the sequence of processes
played out both during its lifetime and afterwards, when its
function had been lost. Although it is known that several
types of large enclosure contain virtually no datable material
(e.g. Roman marching camps), the situation is better for
prehistoric enclosures. At Kly, a vessel was found in situ on
the bottom of the inner ditch in a position which indicated
that it had been deliberately placed there with its base
uppermost. This vessel, a tulip-shaped beaker of the early
phase of the Michelsberg Culture (Colour Plate 4), dates the
inner ditch – and probably the whole system – relatively
precisely.
It can be argued that the Kly feature represents a prototype
of a large curvilinear site, consisting of multiple parallel
ditches/trenches interrupted by entrances, the existence
of which has been demonstrated over west, northwest and
central Europe from the end of the 5th millennium BC.
Typologically it falls into that group of ditched enclosures
encompassing areas of the order of some dozens of hectares,
certain parts of their perimeters lying on terrain breaks (the
majority, terraces above watercourses), which were used as
natural defensive elements. The Kly enclosure comprises a
Enclosing the Past

Figure 2.7. Schematic depiction of the areas in which magnetometer surveys were carried out in the Kly cadastre, conducted
(and repeated) 1997–2000. The areas of geophysical survey (numbered 1–6) were selected in relation to the discernible
course of the atypical linear feature apparent on earlier aerial photographs. Based on State 1:5000 maps, Mělník 3–9.
system of two parallel ditches and a single palisade trench, literature by the German term Erdwerke. Unlike upland
which intersect in an arc the tongue-like protrusion of a settlements in strategic locations (most often on spurs), this
Pleistocene terrace some 500m long. From the point of group of ‘raised settlements of the second class’ (Zápotocký
view of landscape topography, the Kly enclosure can be 2000:258) occur in lowland areas, predominantly on river
numbered among those enclosures situated in flat lowland terraces. Their siting on terrain breaks is characteristic,
areas, in the broad valleys of the middle and lower courses these forming naturally defensible areas along with
of rivers, on fluvial sandy terraces and local deposits of artificial enclosure created by the ditch or ditches (or
wind-blown sands, beyond the reach of periodic floods. palisade). The Kly system of two ditches and a palisade is
From the central European perspective, the Kly enclosure known, for example, from Heilbronn-Klingenberg (Baden-
is classifiable among features appearing at the beginning of Württemberg; Planck et al. 1994:110) and from Urmitz
the Eneolithic, and generally described in the professional (Rhineland-Palatinate; Boelicke 1976). The latter feature

14
15
Figure 2.8. Combined results of aerial prospection and the areas of positive magnetometric surveys of the large enclosure.
The double ditch-and-palisade system has the form of a triple arc enclosure with multiple entrances, delimiting a spur of
raised ground some 23ha in area between defunct meanders (on the floodplain) of the Elbe. Based on State 1:5000 maps,
Mělník 3–9.
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
Enclosing the Past
Figure 2.9. Kly, district Mělník: Surface artefact collection 2000. Neolithic and unspecified prehistoric sherds. Grey
squares: prehistoric (sizes divided into the categories 1–5, 6–15, 16–50 and >50 fragments); black circles: Neolithic
(categories of 1, 2–3 and >3 fragments).
in particular (the largest of its kind in Europe) is – as noted
in Part 2 – similar in many ways to that of Kly: the inner and
outer ditch are pierced by entrances at irregular intervals,
and at both sites the inner ditch has fewer entrances than
the outer; and the palisade trench has even fewer entrances.
The so-called ‘bastions’ – complementary structures in the
centres of the twelve entrance areas of the inner ditch at
Urmitz – were perhaps not missing from entrances to the
Kly feature, as indicated by the existence of a square feature
centrally located in front of one of the northern interruptions
of the outer ditch (the latter indicated by aerial photography
but not by geophysics). There is also a certain similarity
between the transverse ditch K3 and the situation at the
northern end of the Urmitz enclosure, where the outer ditch
turns at right angles and runs into the inner. The existence
of gates – i.e. entrances into the enclosure with structural
elements hindering entry into the interior – is demonstrated
at Kly not only by the square structure mentioned above
but also on the northern side some 70m from the end of the
ditch system. This discovery is also significant in that it is
evidence of the contemporaneity of the ditches, as the gate
is respected by both ditches (a broken line of ditch towards
the outside at an angle of about 30˚). Unlike the Kly ditches
with their V-shaped section (Spitzgraben), the ditches
of both German examples have flat bases (Sohlgraben).
Thus far, only in one case in Bohemia have traces of an
enclosure been found in a similar location, datable to the
late Eneolithic (Jenštejn, Prague-East district; Zápotocký
and Dreslerová 1996).
Whether the Kly enclosure is interpreted with an emphasis
on its practical (e.g. defensive, ritual, ceremonial, production)
or symbolic function (e.g. as an important communication
node in the cultural landscape, a regional/tribal centre), it
16
must be realised that the clearly demonstrated existence
in Bohemia of a large prehistoric enclosure in a lowland
(non-strategic) setting is of undeniable importance for our
understanding of later prehistory in the area. The following
points attempt to summarise this:
1: Thanks to the use of aerial archaeological prospection
for the recognition of the prehistoric landscape,
Bohemia has become another European region where it
has been possible to demonstrate the enclosure of large
areas by ditches and palisades. Until recently, reliance
on traditional methods meant that it was not possible to
show that (Neolithic) ‘rondels’ and hillforts were not the
only types of enclosure in the post-Mesolithic landscape
of the Bohemian Basin in prehistory. Evidence was
almost entirely absent for the enclosure of large areas
in the lowland areas of the ‘old settled land’. What is
meant here are areas larger in scale than the ‘rondels’ (the
only exception being the great outer ditch of the Bylany
‘rondel’, 250m in diameter). Newly identified features
are either surrounded entirely by ditches (the majority
interrupted by entrances) or have natural terrace breaks
along their perimeters.
2: The building of such large enclosures is an expression
of a certain level of organisation within society at the
beginning of the Eneolithic, as their construction required
a considerable workforce to be used efficiently.
3: It is likely that this enclosure was an important
component in its contemporary landscape, primarily due
to its monumental scale. As is indicated by the recent
discovery of another large enclosure of the same type as
Kly some three kilometres away on the opposite bank
of the Elbe at Vrbno, Mělník district (a system of three
concentric interrupted lines of ditches/trenches), such
17
Figure 2.10. Kly, district Mělník: trench 1/99 – general plan. Thin stippling: area of spoil/ramparts (?); dense stippling:
unexcavated area.
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
Enclosing the Past

features may have existed in the landscape in far greater

4: The construction of this ditch/palisade system meant
Figure 2.11. Kly, district Mělník: Inner ditch (feat. K5), northern section (15).
numbers than one might have thought until recently.
an intervention in the contemporary landscape of the
associated settlement area. The data obtained from the
investigations at Kly lead us to the conclusion that the
palisade trench contained posts some 0.2m in diameter,
and given that the overall length of the enclosure is some
500m this implies the use of some 2,500 trees. If, in
future, enclosures of the same age as those at Kly and
Vrbno (from whose environs Late Eneolithic sherds
were recovered) are discovered, i.e. if it is found that
these large enclosures were not isolated and that within
the landscape of the beginning of the Eneolithic they
occured in larger numbers, then this will be an important
argument in favour of the opinion that intensive
deforestation took place in the settlement landscape
between the earlier and later Neolithic, as the building
of these enclosures would necessarily have assisted in
such a process.

Acknowledgements
All of the work associated with research into the Kly
enclosure and its publication was conducted in the framework
of the grant-assisted project “Prehistoric Settlement Patterns
in Bohemia” (PSPB, Gojda 2000, see also http://www.arup.
cas.cz/sppc), which was supported financially by the Grants
Agency of the Czech Republic. A team of specialists took
part in the field campaigns and in the data processing stage
of the Kly project. These are (alphabetically): D. Dreslerová
(environmental data), P. Foster (excavation campaigns), R.
Křivánek (geophysical survey), M. Kuna (fieldwalking and
part of post-excavation data processing), S. Vencl (lithics
analysis), M. Zápotocký (pottery analysis).

Bibliography
Ampe, C. et al. 1996. The circular view: aerial photography and
the discovery of Bronze Age funerary monuments in East- and
West-Flanders (Belgium). Germania 74:45–94.
Bálek, M. 1999. Nová opevněná sídliště na jižní Moravě. Pravěk
NŘ 9:431–441.
Bálek, M. 2000. Letecká archeologie. In M. Čižmář, K. Geislerová
and J. Unger (eds.) Výzkumy – Ausgrabungen 1993–1998, pp.
81–87. Brno: Ústav archeologické památkové péče.
Becker, H. 1996. Komplexe Grabenwerke der Hallstattzeit. In
Becker 1996:159–164.
Becker, H. (ed.) 1996. Archäologische Prospektion. Luftbild-
Archäologie und Geophysik. Arbeitshefte des Bayerischen
Landesamtes für Denkmalpflege 59. Munich.
Boelicke, U. 1976. Das neolithische Erdwerk Urmitz. Acta
Praehistorica et Archaeologica 7/8:73–121.
Braasch, O. 1996. Zur Archäologischen Flugprospektion….
Archäologisches Nachrichtenblatt 1,1:16–24.
Christlein, R. and Braasch, O. 1982. Das unterirdische Bayern.
Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
Čujanová-Jílková, E. 1975. Prvé objekty typu ‘henge’ v západních
Čechách. Archeologické rozhledy 27:481–487.
Fröhlich, S. (ed.) 1997. Luftbildarchäologie in Sachsen-Anhalt.
Halle (Saale).
Gojda, M. 1997. Letecká archeologie v Čechách – Aerial
Archaeology in Bohemia. Prague: Institute of Archaeology.
Hromádka, J. 1968. Horopis. In: Československá vlastivěda I
– Příroda, sv. 1:435–481. Prague: Orbis.

18

Irlinger, W. 1996. Die keltischen Viereckschanzen. Erkennungs-
möglichkeiten verebneter Anlagen im Luftbild. In H. Becker
1996:183–90.
Kovárník, J. 1997. K významu pravěkých kruhových příkopů.
Moravskoslezský archeologický klub. Brno.
Křivánek, R. 2000. Magnetometric prospection of new identified
atypicaly fortified prehistoric archaeological sites in Central
Bohemia. In 32nd International Symposium on Archaeometry,
May 15–19, 2000, p. 157. Mexico City: Mexico – Abstract
book.
Kuna, M. 1994. Archeologický výzkum povrchovými sběry. Zprávy
ČAS: Supplément 23. Prague.
Kuzma, I. 1997. Die grossen Kreise der ersten Bauern: Bilder
der Jungsteinzeit in Zentraleuropa. In J. Oexle (ed.) Aus der
Luft – Bilder unserer Geschichte. Luftbildarchäologie in
Zentraleuropa, pp. 47–57. Dresden.
Leidorf, K. 1996. Herrenhöfe, Bauernhöfe und Tempelbezirke der
frühen Eisenzeit. In H. Becker 1996:143–54.
Pavlů, I. 1982. Die neolithischen Kreisgrabenanlagen in Böhmen.
Archeologické rozhledy 34:176–189.
Planck, D., Braasch, O., Oexle, J. and Schichtherle, H. 1994.
Unterirdisches Baden-Württemberg. Stuttgart: Konrad
Theiss.
Podborský, V. 1988. Těšetice-Kyjovice 4. Rondel osady lidu s
moravskou malovanou keramikou. Brno.
19
Gojda: Large prehistoric enclosures in Bohemia
Podborský, V. 1999a. Shrnutí problematiky – Summary of
the problematic. In Pravěká sociokultovní architektura na
Moravě, ed. V. Podborský, pp.7–21. Brno: Ústav archeologie
a muzeologie FFMU.
Podborský, V. 1999b. Těšetice Kyjovice, okr. Znojmo. In V.
Podborský (ed.) Pravěká sociokultovní architektura na
Moravě, pp. 115–137. Brno: Ústav archeologie a muzeologie
FFMU.
Rulf, J. 1992. Středoevropské neolitické rondely. Dějiny a
současnost 14/6:7–11.
Rulf, J. 1995. The typological classification of the rondel at Bylany
4. In I. Pavlů, J. Rulf and M. Zápotocká (eds.) Bylany Rondel:
model of the Neolithic site. Praehistorica Archaeologica
Bohemica 1995, Památky archeologické, Supplementum 3,
pp. 89–90
Soudský, B. 1966. Habitat de la civilisation de Knovíz á Čakovice
prés de Prague (Bohème). In Investigations archéologiques en
Tchécoslovaquie, p.159.
Zápotocký, M. 2000. Cimburk und die Höhensiedlungen des
frühen und älteren Äneolithikums in Bõhmen. Památky
archeologické, Supplementum 12.
Zápotocký, M. and Dreslerová, D. 1996. Jenštejn: eine
neuentdeckte frühäneolithische Gruppe in Mittelböhmen –
Jenštejn: Nová raně eneolitická skupina ve středních Čechách.
Památky archeologické 87:5–58.
3: Does enclosure make a difference? A View from the Balkans
John Chapman and Bisserka Gaydarska, with Karen Hardy
Abstract: In Northwest Europe, fieldwork and aerial
photography has yielded a rich harvest of enclosed
sites. Most of the enclosures dated to the Neolithic were
constructed in a landscape largely devoid of settled village
communities and therefore formed the most impressive
monuments in those landscapes. By contrast, in Southeast
and Central Europe, where aerial photography is still in its
infancy, enclosed sites are a relatively new phenomenon and
they tend to appear in more settled landscapes, with villages
or hamlets, some of which are dominated by monumental
tells. The expectation would be that the enclosures in
Southeast and Central Europe would relate in a different
way to the more prominent settlements from the relations
found between enclosures and shorter-term settlements in
Northwest Europe. This expectation is investigated through
the comparison of pairs of Neolithic / Chalcolithic sites –
enclosed and non-enclosed – in Serbia, Hungary, Romania
and Bulgaria. The comparative approach is capable of
yielding new insights into prehistoric social practices on
seemingly well-known sites.
Keywords: tells, islands, hilltop sites, open sites, liminality,
visuality
Introduction
Otto Braasch (1995) once famously remarked that “Europe
is half-blind”, implying that the lack of aerial photography
over much of Central and Eastern Europe meant a serious
bias in settlement patterns in those parts, in comparison
with the rich and varied suite of enclosed and defended
sites in Western and Northern Europe. Recent advances in
aerial archaeology have, however, begun to document the
missing site types, while geophysical survey has started to
provide more detail, especially for tell settlements. While
the number of enclosed and defended sites in Romania and
Bulgaria is still relatively small, new motorway rescue
projects in the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary have
led to a rapid increase in the identification of these site types.
Thus, although the bias in settlement patterns still exists, the
situation continues to improve (Gojda 1997).
The major difference in dwelling practices between
Central and Eastern Europe and areas of Northwestern
Europe in which enclosure was practised was the extent of
nucleated and permanent settlement. Although there is still
evidence for permanent settlement and agricultural features
in the Neolithic and later landscapes of Northwest Europe
(the Ceíde and other Irish field systems, the Balbridie long-
house in Scotland, the large number of (largely unpublished)
houses in the Scandinavian Neolithic (pers. comm., P.
Rowley-Conwy), etc.), much of the dwelling practices
in these regions would appear to be small in scale, of the
level of dispersed homesteads, of short duration, perhaps
one family generation, and practising limited artefact
discard. It may be expected that enclosures created in such
a social landscape would have very different relations to
20
the settlements than enclosures developed in more stable
landscapes of permanent, nucleated villages. This article
seeks to explore this issue with respect to enclosures
in Central and Eastern Europe in the Neolithic and
Chalcolithic. This main issue can be tackled through three
subsidiary questions: to what extent are enclosed site types
different from other adjoining unenclosed sites; what is the
extent of different social practices performed in or between
enclosed and unenclosed parts of the same complex; and
what does such site differentiation mean in a broader social
sense of divergent social practices? In this chapter, we shall
seek to answer these three questions through a structured
comparison of enclosed and unenclosed sites within several
geographically limited areas.
The strategy of paired comparisons used in this chapter
creates somewhat artificial conditions, in which it may be
felt that the sites are abstracted from their local settlement
and social context. An attempt has been made to remedy this
potential defect. However, the advantage of this approach is
that more or less direct comparisons can be made, even if the
two sites are ultimately explicable only on their own terms.
The comparison of two segments of the same complex,
especially if excavated by the same team, diminishes these
disadvantages.
The social significance of enclosures
As authors of many previous studies and other chapters in
this volume have observed, the main point about enclosures
is that, whatever their form, they define an inside, an outside
and a liminal area. These divisions are derived from the
classic definition of a rite of passage by van Gennep (1960),
which was followed and expanded on by Turner (1967).
However, Bourdieu (1991:117ff.) has pointed out that, by
stressing the transition between the three ritual states and the
way the individual moves across those transitions in ritual
practice, van Gennep and Turner ignored the social function
of ritual and the separation of those who are on one side of
the transition and those who are on the other. For Bourdieu,
the important thing is not so much the ritual transitions as
the line itself: the line defines the ‘before’ and ‘after’, thus
assigning social properties which make them seem natural.
The rites draw attention to the passage over the line, without
diminishing the importance of the line. Thus, Bourdieu
prefers the term ‘rites of institution’ to ‘rites of passage’,
because rites of institution integrate specifically social
oppositions into cosmological oppositions. For Bourdieu,
to institute is to sanction and sanctify an established
order. Rites of institution act on reality by acting on its
representation, enabling those crossing the line to “become
what they are” (1991:122).
Bourdieu’s perspective on acts of institution makes much
sense when thinking through the importance of enclosure.
Five points arising from his discussion are worth emphasis.
First, the importance of the line is physically defined by
the manifestation of the enclosure, whether bank, ditch,
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
palisade, hill slope or shoreline. Crossing the line can
involve moving across water by boat (e.g. the islet sites),
a steep climb from a river terrace to a high plateau or a
high terrace (e.g. Cucuteni sites, Gradac), or moving in
and between ditches and palisades in an often complicated
‘inner route’ (e.g. Ovcharovo, Poljanitsa).
Secondly, the extent to which people inside and outside
the line are separated is often emphasised by the design of
an enclosed space. John Barrett has remarked on the visual
importance not only of the view for someone standing on the
top of a high monument such as Silbury Hill but also of that
person being seen at the top of such a hill (Barrett 1994). In
other cases, the topography or the enclosure design makes
it difficult or impossible for a person on the interior to be
seen from the exterior, while retaining a good view of the
surrounding landscape for someone on the interior (e.g.
Gradac, Poljanitsa). By contrast, anyone standing within
the C-shaped enclosure at Zadubravlje could see others in
(be seen by others from) the rest of the site. The extent
of exclusion was carefully controlled as a vital aspect of
enclosure design.
Thirdly, while Bourdieu thought of the chronological sense
in which the line defines the before and after, enclosures
define the line in both a chronological and a spatial sense,
giving a more complex context to the rite of institution. The
act of crossing the ‘line’ comprises the requisite physical
effort as much as the social time taken for the rite. The
expectation is that the more time and effort needed to cross
the line, the more distinctive the social practices taking
place within the enclosed space. But, as we shall see, this is
a matter for empirical investigation.
Fourthly, the cosmological oppositions formed out of the
social oppositions can be given spatial form in enclosure
design, linking this order to the landscape and/or to the
cardinal points which form part of the community’s
established order. A good example of this is Colin Richards’
demonstration of the way in which Orcadian henges mimic
the sea/land-scape (Richards 1996).
Fifthly, the representation of reality – the enclosure itself
– is, in itself, a manifestation of communal labour and social
organisation, enabling the corporate group to “become what
they are” in the very act of construction. It is the corporate
commitment to the enclosure that gives the rite of crossing
the line added significance, making the act of an individual
inseparable from the antecedent acts of the community.
In the following pages, these insights will be explored in
the context of the contrasts between unenclosed and enclosed
sites or parts of sites. In this way, we shall comment on the
differences which enclosure made in the later prehistory of
Central and Eastern Europe. But first, we set the scene with
a summary of the time/space distribution of enclosures.
Forms of enclosure
There would appear to be at least five forms of enclosed
and defended site known in the Neolithic and Chalcolithic of
Central and Eastern Europe (viz., the territories of modern
Hungary, Slovenia, Bosnia and Hercegovina, Croatia, Serbia
and Montenegro, FYROM, Bulgaria, Romania, Moldova,
Trans-Dniestr and Ukraine):
1: the unenclosed hilltop site, whose form delimits the
occupation space but which is not artificially enclosed:
Gradac-Zlokućane;
21
2: the islet site – a small island in a lake, inlet or main
river stream, on which settlement or other remains have
been deposited but which is not artificially enclosed:
Durankulak and Căscioarele;
3: the tell settlement whose off-tell area is encircled by
one or more banks / ditches / palisades: Csőszhalom,
Poljanitsa and Ovcharovo;
4: the hill-fort or promontory settlement with one or more
ditches / banks / palisades cutting off the neck of the
promontory: Truşeşti and Valač;
5: the enclosed horizontal site, with definable limits to
some, if not all, of the deposited remains but not falling
into any of the other five classes: Iclod, Ovcharitsa II
and Obrovci.
An important difference between these site classes
concerns the presence or absence of artificially enclosing
structures (dry-stone walls, earthen banks, palisades, or
ditches). It is suggested here that sites whose natural forms
define a self-enclosing space should not be excluded from
the term ‘enclosed sites’ just because there are no artificially
enclosing features. Here, the critical issue is one of size:
hills such as the Zlokućane hill near the village of Gradac,
or the island upon which the site of Căscioarele was created,
are small enough to be differentiated from adjacent terrain.
Nor is it proposed to include caves and rock-shelters within
this definition, although there is an element of natural
enclosure in these site types as well.
The distribution of these site classes in time and place is
liable to revision even before the publication of this volume
(Fig. 3.1). For example, a further five Lengyel ‘rondels’
(a Central European term for an enclosed ritual site) were
discovered in the winter 2003/4 aerial photographic season
on the line of the M-7 motorway from Budapest to Lake
Balaton, Western Hungary (pers. comm., P. Raczky). This
fulfils Otto Braasch’s prediction that, as soon as aerial
photography became part of the Central and Eastern
European tradition of doing archaeological research, then
such site types were certain to be discovered.
To our knowledge, there are precious few enclosing
structures dating unambiguously to the 6th millennium Cal
BC in Central and Eastern Europe. The earliest intra-mural
enclosure is currently known from Zadubravlje-Dužine,
an Early Starčevo settlement in Croatia. A low, C-shaped
palisade 12m in diameter defines what is described as a ritual
area for the community (Minichreiter 1992:34–35, figs. 12
and 18). The opening of the enclosure is partly filled with
a line of three post-holes. Inside the enclosure are further
post-holes, a long narrow pit 3m in depth, and isolated
stake-holes. Since there are no 14C dates from Zadubravlje,
the palisade can be dated within only rather broad limits
to the middle of the 6th millennium Cal BC (cf. Whittle et
al. 2002). However, it is improbable that this example is
the only one in the Early Neolithic of the Balkans, not least
because of the lack of geophysical prospection on such sites
or the focus inrare examples on the search for burnt house
remains in the settlement core, e.g. Divostin (Mužijević and
Ralph 1988).
Enclosing structures become much more common in the
5th millennium Cal BC, when they are found all over the
Balkans and the Middle Danube Basin. There is a great
variety of ways of enclosing tells, whether in Northeast
Bulgaria (Ovcharovo, Polyanitsa, Goljamo Delchevo, etc.),
in Eastern Hungary (Gorzsa, Polgár-Czőszhalom, etc.), and
in Western Romania (the recent excavations at Uivar: Schier,
Enclosing the Past
Figure 3.1. Location map of sites discussed in the text. 1. Csőszhalom; 2. Gradac-Zlokućane; 3. Valač-Krš 4. Căscioarele;
5. Gumelniţa; 6. Durankulak; 7. Vinitsa; 8. Iskritsa; 9. Merdzumekja.
in press). There is a high density of non-tell enclosures in
the Czech Republic, Austria, Slovakia and Western Hungary,
where the Lengyel dating is well-documented (Trnka 1991;
Němejcová-Pavúková 1995). There is also a dense cluster
of promontory enclosures in Cucuteni sites in Moldavia
(Monah and Cucos 1985).
With the major exception of the Cucuteni-Tripolye group,
enclosures would appear to be less common in the 4th
millennium Cal BC. The Tripolye group comprises a huge
range of site sizes, from 1ha to over 600ha – the so-called
mega-sites (Kruts 1989, 1990; Videjko 1995). The size range
is matched by the diversity of spatial layouts (pers. comm.,
M. Videjko). While amongst the earliest settlements (Early
Tripolye/Pre-Cucuteni) only two have artificial ditches,
the following Middle Tripolye/Cucuteni A period suggests
some development of the concept of enclosed space since
the number and the size of single ditches have increased.
The largest sites remain unenclosed, as do the sites in the
area of the Southern Bug and the Upper Dniestr. The Late
Tripolye/Cucuteni B is marked by significant diversification
of settlement types and the emergence/formation of regional
patterns. In three areas, the Pontic Steppe, the Middle and
Upper Dniestr and the Prut valley in Volhynia, a major
constituent of the complex settlement arrangement is a
single, double or even triple set of banks and ditches or the
integration of natural and artificial features that combines the
enclosed space with promontories or other readily defensive
landscape features (see Chapman 1999, Table 15). Further
22
west, in periods when tell-dwelling was rare in Eastern
Hungary, such as the Middle Copper Age, small circular
enclosures have been found at sites such as Szarvas 112.
Here, the inside of the enclosed space is empty of artefacts,
which are deposited in the form of sherds outside the ditch.
The only feature inside the enclosure is a pit with alternating
levels of yellow loess and dark organic-rich sediment –
perhaps human or animal blood (Makkay 1982)?
Thus, the negative bias of lack of aerial reconnaissance
makes it hard to suggest any regions in Central and Eastern
Europe where we can be certain of the absence of enclosures.
This is a classic case of a research topic in statu nascendi
– and presumably it will continue to grow in line with the
expansion of aerial photography in these parts of Europe. It
is now time to turn to a more detailed comparison of pairs
of sites or contrasting sectors within one site – one enclosed
and one unenclosed.
Visually distinctive hilltop sites
Prominent hilltops fulfil the main criteria for liminal
locations as re-defined by Bourdieu. The effort required to
climb a steep hill slope and reach the summit is not only
related to the defensive capabilities of the site but also
concerns how people cross Bourdieu’s line. It is this effort
rather than the communal effort to construct the ‘line’ that
can be used to integrate individual labour with collective
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
strategies. There may well be power-related limits on those
persons who can be seen on the hill summit, or who live
there and can access the views over the landscape.
Two examples of sites on prominent hilltops are known
from the Late Vinča period in Southern Serbia: Valač in
Kosovo; and Gradac-Zlokućane in the Leskovac Basin.
The first – Valač – is artificially enclosed with a palisade
and dry-stone wall; the second settlement – Gradac – lies on
top of, and at the foot of, a prominent natural hill.
Valač is located in hill-country in eastern Kosovo. The
present environment is heavily forested with some upland
pastures in cleared areas. The site consists of a series of
house-floors and daub-lined pits terraced into the steep
slope of Valač-Krš. The structures are surrounded on three
sides by steep rocks; on the south side, there is a palisade
and a drystone wall blocking off the only access (Tasić
1957, 1959–60). The only prehistoric material on the site
is dated to the Late Vinča phase (Vinča-D). Although there
are no plans or sections indicating a Late Vinča date for the
drystone wall or palisade, it is hard to date these features to a
later prehistoric or historic period in the absence of any later
datable pottery. At least five house floors are mentioned, as
well as three pits. The site stratigraphy is divided into three
levels: a basal level with pits cut into the natural; a level
with house floors; and the deposits overlying the house
floors. It is possible that all of these features belong to a
single Late Vinča level (Tasić 1957:34).
There are two unusual aspects of the Valač material culture
assemblage: the figurines; and the exotic artefacts. A large
number of figurines has been deposited at Valač, more
than on many Vinča settlements (Chapman 1981). A type
specific to Kosovo and, in particular to Valač, is the so-called
‘centaur’ – a human-headed quadruped (Tasić 1957). While
most of the figurines were found in the cultural level, each
house has at least one centaur fragment and generally other
figurine fragments as well, mostly bearing red-crusted paint.
The house in Sonda P-3 was particularly rich in figurine
fragments – fragments of at least four throned figurines,
three centaur torsos and two fragmentary heads, and one set
of legs – a total of 11 fragments. Under the house, two
more centaurs were placed, perhaps as a foundation deposit
(Tasić 1959-60:74). Outside the houses, both centaurs,
throned and standing figurine fragments were found. It is
most unusual to find such a high ratio of throned : standing
figurines (10:8) on a Vinča site. There are specific parallels
Finds Large Plateau
1909 1950s
Miniature pottery many 4 11
Fired clay spoon – –
Incised sign on pot – 1
Colander – 1
Pottery lid ? 3 frags
Prosopomorphic lid 1 –
Cult vessel – –
Special lamp/altar 1 –
Stool – –
Lamp/altar many 9 frags
Figurines 210 13 frags
Perforated amulet 1 –
Marble bowl fragment 1 –
Graphite-painted sherd – –
Table 3.1. Comparison of finds from different excavation sectors at Gradac-Zlokućane. Sources: Vasić 1911; Stalio 1972.
23
between the Valač pottery and exotic assemblages from the
Morava valley, central Bulgaria, FYROM and possibly even
northern Greece.
Thus, Valač stands out from all other Kosovo Vinča sites
in terms of its rocky landscape setting, its palisade and
drystone-walled enclosing structure and the deposition of a
large number of centaur figurines and other types under and
in the houses.
The site of Gradac-Zlokućane (Fig. 3.2) occupies a more
dramatic and dominant hilltop site than that of Valač, in
the valley of the South Morava (Stalio 1972, T. XXV/1).
The site was discovered and excavated by Miloje M. Vasić
in 1907 (Vasić 1911). Further smaller-scale excavations
were directed by Stalio in the 1950s (Stalio 1972). The
stratigraphy at this site is complicated by pit-digging and
ceramic discard in the Late Iron Age and by Vasić’ inability
to distinguish Iron Age and Vinča fine wares (Vasić 1911).
Nonetheless, the special finds are unmistakably Vinča
in origin. Yet one further important chronological issue
remains.
In his excavation report, Vasić (1911) claimed that Gradac
was a “fortress protected by a ditch and a dry masonry wall”.
However, no plans and sections demonstrate the relationship
of these features to the Vinča period. Moreover, the only
section of drystone walling that Stalio excavated – in Sonda
II – lay stratigraphically higher than a black soil with traces
of burning associated with Iron Age pottery (1972:66)!
Because of the steep southeast slope, it is probable that
most of the finds from Sonda II are in a secondary position.
Without further evidence, it may be suggested that, as at
Vinča-Belo Brdo, a dominant hill that attracted Vinča settlers
was fortified in the Iron Age. The internal chronology at
Gradac is also problematic, because Stalio’s (1972:98f.)
phasing criteria are weak (Phase I – dwelling pits rather
than above-ground houses; Phase II – fertility figurines;
Phase III – stylised figurines). It is hard to distinguish many
differences in the pottery from any of these deposits.
This leaves three zones where Vinča occupation is attested
at Gradac: the Large Plateau, where Vasić excavated 900m²
and Stalio 74m²; the Small Plateau, where Stalio excavated
49m²; and the lower slopes of the hill, where Stalio excavated
46m² (Stalio 1972, plan opposite T. XXXVI). This gives us
the opportunity to compare the structures and finds from on
the naturally enclosed hill and from a dwelling area at the
foot of the plateau (Table 3.1).
Small Plateau Lower SW slopes
9
1 –
– –
– –
– 1 frag
– –
2 frags –
– 1 frag
– 1 frag
2 frags 5 frags
2 frags 22 frags
– 3
– –
1 –
 Enclosing the Past

24
Figure 3.2. General plan of Gradac-Zlokućane (source: Stalio 1972).
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
There have been no reported above-ground houses on the
Large Plateau; instead, a series of pits of differing sizes
cut from a thin occupation layer (Vasić 1911:98; Stalio
1972:63f.). This suggests the site type known as the ‘pit-
field’, a site characterised by often repeated finds deposition
in pits but no dwellings. On the Small Plateau, four phases
of occupation have been noted: pits cut into the sterile sub-
soil; an occupation layer below the house remains; a layer
of burnt house remains; and the occupation layer above the
house floors (Stalio 1972:66ff.). At the foot of the southwest
slope of the plateau, the excavated area included a burnt layer
with a house floor, covered by a later occupation layer.
The main difficulty with comparison of the finds is the
discrepant size of excavations; Vasić’ 900m² is hard to
compare with Stalio’s much smaller trenches. Nonetheless,
some patterns emerge to differentiate the areas. A small
but distinctive group of objects was deposited on the Small
Plateau, with very few figurines but two cult vessels, a
graphite painted sherd (possibly an import from the Karanovo
VI group), and a fragmentary metal pin; none of these
artefact types were deposited elsewhere. Impressionistic
comments on the (unquantified!) animal bones suggest a
higher proportion of wild to domestic animals in this area
(Stalio 1972:97f.), though size-related recovery bias cannot
be excluded. The southwest zone house contained far more
figurines, miniature vessels and lamp/altars than any other
single house or pit, as well as amorphous copper fragments.
A greater diversity of material culture was deposited in
the pits of the Large Plateau, including the sole examples
of a prosopomorphic lid, a sherd with incised signs, and a
fragmentary marble bowl. Later commentators have agreed
with Vasić’ initial conclusion (1911:99) that the Large Plateau
figurines were indeed extremely varied in style (Höckmann
1968:73). However, the overall variability in this part of
Gradac seems to reflect, for the most part, size of excavation
rather than differential depositional practices. There is no
evidence for any particular concentration of objects in any
single pit on the Large Plateau. What Gradac shows us is
the diversity of deposition in different parts of the complex
but at a comparable scale of finds discard. It appears that the
symbolic and visual significance of occupation on the top
of the Gradac hill was emphasised by differential material
culture deposition of special objects on the two Plateaux
and with a concentration of figurine deposition at the foot
of the hill. A similar scale of deposition of distinctive ritual
finds, though, again, of a different character from those at
Gradac, is found at Valač. It is hard to argue that either
natural or artificial enclosures made a major difference to
social practices on these Late Vinča sites.
Islet sites
Islets are a distinctive form of place, whose small size
means that many, if not most, of the social practices of the
community using the islet cannot be carried out on the islet
itself. The ‘line’ to which Bourdieu referred is an extended
space; crossing the line involves a distinct kind of movement
– a departure from the shore, a boat trip and an arrival on
the islet. The shoreline provides an ideal vantage point for
all three stages of the voyage, especially the arrival on the
distant islet. Weather conditions and the time of day could
all be used to invoke mystery and suspense in such a voyage
(cf. Erdogu 2003). Rowing the boat from the shore to the
25
islet is also a metaphorical statement, involving both human
labour and space/time separation. In all of these ways, islets
provide an analogy to artificial enclosures, although they
constitute a distinctive form of natural bounded space. In this
chapter, two comparisons between islet sites and ‘mainland’
sites will be considered: Căscioarele and Gumelniţa, in
the lower Danube valley, Romania; and Goljemiya Ostrov
(i.e. the Big Island) at Durankulak, in comparison with the
Vinitsa tell.
There is a wide variety of islands in the lower Danube
valley, below the Iron Gates gorge, ranging from Ostrovul
Corbului, covering an area of 20km², to islets such as
Ostrovel, near the modern village of Căscioarele, which
is 80m in diameter and whose lower flanks are seasonally
flooded. Before occupation in the Later Neolithic (Boian)
period, the islet formed a low, rather rocky hill in the middle
of the Cătălui inlet, set back from the main course of the
Danube, and overlooked on three sides by high terraces.
What kind of social practices characterised Căscioarele
and in what sense could it be considered a special site?
In addition, to what extent was ritual life conducted on a
domestic, household, basis or on the community level, in
the public domain?
The islet was used over a period of perhaps 500 years in
the Late Boian and Gumelniţa periods (4600–4100 Cal BC),
resulting in a vertical build-up of over 3.6m of deposits.
Much of this consisted of the destruction deposits of the
final burnt occupation, in which all of the material inside
the structures was re-fired and the shapes of many vessels
distorted in the intense heat. Although no section through the
site’s deposits has been published, the bulk of the deposits
derived from structural remains (pers. comm., S. Marinescu-
Bîlcu). There can thus be no doubt that the site was at least
partly used as a dwelling place for a succession of small
communities, each of which extended the place-biography
of earlier occupations to create an accumulated place-
value for the islet. Despite the excavator V. Dumitrescu’s
(1965:40) claim for “an easy quiet life … because of … the
defensive position on the islet”, the site could have easily
been attacked from the shore, which lies only 120m away.
The narrow, shallow ditch and low bank around the later
(Gumelniţa) occupation was hardly an insuperable obstacle
to a co-ordinated attack – so a defensive function for the site
is inherently improbable. The bank and ditch emphasised
the separation of the islet from the ‘mainland’, rather than
its defensive nature.
Although the excavators and other commentators have
emphasised the latter rather than the former, there is
abundant evidence for both everyday dwelling activities and
special depositional practices at Căscioarele (H. Dumitrescu
1968; V. Dumitrescu 1965a; Dumitrescu and Bănăţeanu
1965). Most of the structures in both phases have one or
more hearths, a pottery assemblage consistent with domestic
use, querns for the grinding of grain, many fired clay loom-
weights and everyday lithic and bone discard. There are
many antler harpoons in the later phase, consistent with the
vertebrae of large and small Danube fish found in pits. The
main function of House 2 of the Gumelniţa phase was a flint
workshop, with 60 lumps of unused flint, 13 cores, four
hammerstones and 14 flint axes (V. Dumitrescu 1965b).
The unusual deposits consisted of special finds, a burial
deposit and a unique structure. The unique structure is
the only special structure so far published relating to the
Late Boian phase (H. Dumitrescu 1968) and consists of a
Enclosing the Past
16m×10m, two-roomed building with cream on red painted
decoration on the walls, on two 2m-high pillars and on a
0.4m-high bench. Near one of the pillars was a crouched
inhumation; the finds included a life-size bucranium, an altar
screen, large askoi, storage jars with excised decoration and
other painted pottery. The building was the largest of all the
Boian structures and was located in the middle of the Boian
site. While the crouched burial was probably associated
with the abandonment of the building, the pillars are a well-
known feature of Balkan Neolithic and Copper Age ritual
structures (cf. Beograd-Banjica, Jakovo-Kormadin and
Parţa: Todorović and Cermanović 1961; Jovanović and
Glišić 1960; Lazarovici et al. 2001).
Although no such ‘ritual structures’ were found in the
Gumelniţa occupation, there were many other distinctive
features that suggest special depositional practices continued
in this phase. At a general level, the overwhelming dietary
preference for venison – over 60% of the bone numbers
derived from red deer (Bolomey 1965) – is most unusual
for Gumelniţa sites and suggests special feasting practices.
The deposition of an antler ard-point in House 8 suggests
more than the possession of a farmer used for tilling the
soils on the ‘mainland’ terraces, since no other ard-point
has ever been found in a Gumelniţa house, indeed in any
Gumelniţa context (Dumitrescu and Bănăţeanu 1965). The
large quantity and diversity of figurines makes the site
distinctive, as does the high percentage deposited in houses
(Andreescu 2002:98). Unusual characteristics include a
large number of pot-lids with anthropomorphic handles –
taken as a sign of domestic ritual – and figurines with special
incised-circle decoration on the legs – perhaps made by a
single person (Andreescu 2002:105f.). The discovery of a
fired clay figurine pair, a male and a female, unique in the
Gumelniţa repertoire also indicates special rituals. But this
is underlined by the most spectacular find, a shrine model
measuring 1.5m in length and 0.8m in height, deposited
outside a large Gumelniţa house. Another find class that is
most unusual in domestic settings is the group of fired clay
copies of Spondylus and gold pendants found in Gumelniţa
houses. The burial of two human skulls under the clay
floor of another Gumelniţa house, directly above the place
where the oven was constructed, is a further indication of
special depositional practices. Finally, the burning of all of
the houses in the last Gumelniţa occupation, together with a
suite of very large ceramic assemblages, suggests the final
ritual destruction of the site rather than an armed attack (cf.
Stevanović 1997; Chapman 1999a).
If any of these Gumelniţa finds occurred singly on a tell
site, the interpretation of a domestic ritual would probably
be favoured. But such a concentration of special or, indeed,
unique, finds suggests that Căscioarele was more than
just a settlement site in the Gumelniţa phase, as indeed
it seems to have been with its Late Boian ‘pillar shrine’.
Two complementary ritual aspects may be emphasised:
the strong association between the Căscioarele houses and
mortuary ritual, whether through the direct invocation of
the ancestors (the skull burials), the presencing of exotic
cemetery rituals (the pendant copies) or the final ‘death’
of the settlement; and the significance of ceremonies for
the living, whether characterised by feasting, outdoor rites
using the shrine model and special figurines or even ritual
ploughing with the ard-point. However, we cannot ignore
the everyday finds that make Căscioarele similar to many
other Gumelniţa settlements. To what extent are there
26
similarities between the ritual finds deposited on this islet
site and ritual practices on a major neighbouring tell-site?
The best published comparandum for Ostrovel is the
tell of Gumelniţa, located on dry land and, as far as can
be said from the extensive excavations, an unenclosed tell
(V. Dumitrescu 1925, 1964, 1966). Even here, it must be
admitted that the publications do not provide the degree
of detail required to interpret different social practices;
nonetheless, the Gumelniţa tell is the best example within
30km of Căscioarele.
The Gumelniţa tell was discovered in 1923 and excavated
in a series of campaigns from 1924 onwards (V. Dumitrescu
1925, 1964, 1966). The exploratory excavations of 1924
established the basic division of the Gumelniţa period into
two phases – A and B (V. Dumitrescu 1925:39). Burnt house
remains were discovered in both levels, with a standard
range of ‘domestic’ finds in each of these structures. Even
though the excavation techniques in this early campaign
were rudimentary, with a standard thickness of 40–50cm of
earth removed in the same ‘level’, the excavator discovered
some important features suggesting structured deposition.
First, there were large piles of animal bones, shells, ash
and charcoal near houses – interpreted as food debris but,
with reference to the controlled excavations at Borduşani
in the 1990s (Marinescu-Bîlcu et al. 1998), more likely the
remains of feasting outside of a house before its deliberate
destruction by fire. Secondly, the existence of several deep
but narrow ‘shafts’ suggest a practice involving exchange
with the ancestral occupations of the tell (cf. Chapman
2000). In Trench X, at a depth of 220–270cm (!), there was
a vertical shaft 0.25m in diameter and with a depth of 1.5m
(V. Dumitrescu 1925:32). Similarly, in Trench I, at a depth of
255–295cm, a shaft was found with a diameter 0.20–0.30m
and a depth of over 0.5m (1925:35). Finally, in Trench II,
at a depth of 180–275cm, some ‘post-holes’ were thought
to be too large even for major structural posts supporting a
heavy roof and were considered to be ‘special’ in some way
(1925:36). A third find consisted of a complete inhumation
lying on the ground surface between two burnt houses, said
to have been killed during a house fire but with no burnt
bones more probably an inhumation at the same time as the
deliberate firing of the houses. The only pertinent comment
on the Gumelniţa finds was the high density of figurines,
said to have almost equalled the number found at the 1924
excavations at Căscioarele (1925:80).
In the more careful excavations of the 1960s, V.
Dumitrescu located several spectacular imports at the tell.
A hoard of bowls was found in a burnt house in the latest
level, consisting of 21 or 23 graphite-painted small bowls
placed in a large imported Cucuteni A3 polychrome painted
amphora (V. Dumitrescu 1964, 1966). Other finds from the
same burnt house include a ‘Janus’ figurine holding a vase
on the head, pottery with crusted painted decoration, dark
burnished wares decorated with channelling, vessels with
incised decoration, further Cucuteni A imports, a fragment
of a marble bowl, a fragmentary antler tool (perhaps a hoe),
18 loom-weights, Bulgarian flint blades and scrapers and a
fragment of a male figurine (V. Dumitrescu 1966).
A second example of exotic imports concerns the huge
block of mined flint from northeast Bulgaria on display in
Olteniţa Museum. The block measures 0.8m by 0.4m by
0.3m and probably weighs over 1 ton. It must have been
mined in northeast Bulgaria – perhaps in the Razgrad area,
transported to the Danube for up to 50 km, carried across the
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
river by boat and then brought a further 30km to the tell. It
was obviously such a prized possession that the flint block
was not used for tool production but remained on the tell,
rather like a prehistoric ‘Stone of Scone’ (Aitchison 2000)
– associated with powerful individuals. Lastly, a number
of gold pendants, perhaps as many as five, have been
‘discovered’ at the Gumelniţa tell by looters (pers. comm.,
Dr. B. Ionescu); the form of these pendants is identical to
those at Căscioarele, suggesting close relations between the
elites of these two communities.
Although there is a big disparity in the proportion of the
excavated areas of these two tells (100% at Căscioarele;
2% at Gumelniţa: Andreescu 2002), we can identify some
of the major similarities and differences between the two
sites. The practice of deliberate burning of houses, often
after deposition within of spectacular ritual finds, is clearly
common to each site, as is the association of feasting and
inhumations with such house-burning, the high deposition
rate for figurines, the unusual combination of vase-
figurines and the rare discovery of gold tabbed pendants
in settlements. However, the limited investigations at
Gumelniţa have not yet turned up any structures in any
way related to the Căscioarele shrines, with their painted
wall plaster, two-storey construction and pillar altars. By
contrast, the exotic imports typical of Gumelniţa have not
been so common in the much more intensive investigations
at Căscioarele. Thus, both communities can be seen to have
drawn upon an identical material heritage – after all, the
sites are only 30 km apart – and, perhaps for that reason,
there are really more similarities than differences between
the unenclosed and the enclosed tells. Here is a case where,
perhaps unexpectedly, the islet site may not have been so
distinctive as was previously thought.
An islet on the Black Sea coast?
A rather different situation pertains on the Black Sea
coastal lagoon of Durankulak, where a complex developed,
consisting of a Neolithic (Hamangia group) settlement
near the Durankulak lagoon, associated with the Neolithic
part of the cemetery, and a Chalcolithic tell on the Big
Island (Goljemi Ostrov) in the lagoon, associated with
the Chalcolithic part of the cemetery (Fig. 3.3). While
the Neolithic (Hamangia I–II) and earliest Copper Age
(Hamangia early III) settlement on the shore has been totally
excavated, the Copper Age (Hamangia late III–IV and Varna
I–III) settlement on the Big Island has been only partially
excavated; the tell has a series of rectangular houses with
drystone-wall foundations which are so far unique in Balkan
prehistory (Todorova 1989, 2002a).
The Big Island – so termed to distinguish it from a smaller
island in the lagoon – was a distinctive landscape feature,
measuring 200 by 120m. At the start of the Hamangia
I–II occupation, the Big Island was probably a peninsula,
connected to the lagoon shore by a narrow causeway. With
rising sea-level (according to Fairbridge’s sea-level chart
cited in Todorova 2002b:20 and Abb. 9), the causeway
would have been flooded, creating an island. This may have
created the conditions for a physically and conceptually
distinct space early in the Copper Age. In any event, one
of the major changes at Durankulak occurred soon after the
start of the Copper Age, when the community shifted their
settlement to the Big Island some 120m from the lagoon
27
shore and started to bury their dead in somewhat different
ways from those of the Neolithic cemetery on the lagoon
shore. The new patterns in the latter included a wider range
of grave goods, an increase in the quantity of ceramics and
lithics and a decline in the deposition of steppe ass (Equus
asinus hydruntinus) skulls as hunting trophies (Spassov and
Iliev 2002).
The change in dwelling practices were on a different scale
altogether. The Hamangia I–II– early III settlement on the
shore consisted of large-scale deposits of pottery, broken
figurines, tools and animal bones in pits and on the surface
between the pits (Todorova and Dimov 1989). The presence
of hearths, fired clay ‘platforms’ and remains of roof
constructions in some of the larger pits (up to 14.5×7.6m
in size) has led the excavators to an interpretation of these
features as ‘pit-houses’. However, serious objections have
been raised to the interpretation of ‘pit-dwellings’ in Balkan
prehistory, on both experimental and functional grounds
(for summary, see Chapman 2000). The alternative is that
the people lived in above-ground structures whose traces
have not survived subsequent frequent ploughing of the
chernozoem.
Although only one small sonda has been excavated to the
bottom of the cultural levels on the Big Island, Todorova
discovered that stone architecture was already present from
the very first occupation of the island (Level VIII, Todorova
2002c). This consisted of walls of drystone cobbles derived
from the rocks of the island, which can be preserved to a
height of 0.5m and which formed the base for wattle-and-
daub superstructural walls (Todorova 2002c:12). In the
second level (Level VII), dated by Hamangia IV pottery,
Structure 5 has been interpreted as a two-storied ‘palace’
by dint of its size, while Structure 8 has been dubbed a
‘shrine’ because of the contents of this two-storied building
(Todorova 2002c: 12). Little information has so far been
published about the Varna I–II phase levels (Levels VI–IVa),
except that there is a metallurgical workshop in Level VI. In
addition, during the excavation of Structure 5 in Level VII,
Todorova (1997:83) found a fragment of a life-size fired
clay figure in a stone structure.
In the totally excavated Late Copper Age Level IVb, a
total of 15 buildings has been excavated. Structure 9 is
interpreted as a ‘palace’ and Structures 12 and 13 as shrines,
while the other large trapezoidal or rectangular houses are
termed ‘megara’ (for details: Todorova and Dimov 1989;
for plan, see Todorova 2002c, Abb. 8b; for structures, see
2000c, Abb. 5a, 5b and 8a). The structures are generally
two-roomed, with two hearths in the outer room, whose
floor was covered in a sherd-rich ash layer. In the inner
rooms, a rectangular oven was built on a stone platform by
the east wall, while storage vessels and other pottery stood
on a platform near the north wall and grindstones were found
on a stone surface between the oven and the platform. The
buildings of the final Late Copper Age level (Level III) were
all burnt and subsequently badly damaged by the building
activities of the Early Medieval settlement.
Of the special buildings signalled by the excavator, the Late
Copper Age Structure 9 (Level IVb) is the most spectacular,
with a trapezoidal shape, of megaron type with two rooms,
and covering an area of 166 m². With its 0.5–6m-thick lower
stone walls, it was once the most monumental building so
far excavated on the Balkan Peninsula. Unfortunately, few
details of this structure have yet been published. This is
not the case, however, for the earlier Structure 5 in Late
Enclosing the Past
Figure 3.3. Plan of the Durankulak complex (source: Todorova 2002a).
Hamangia Level VII (Todorova 1997 and Abb. 9). This two-
storied structure covers a total of 330m², with an inner space
of 152m² – thus becoming the most monumental structure
in Balkan prehistory. It is defined by a double stone wall,
each up to 0.85m wide and separated by 0.3–0.8m. The
inner wall of this structure was covered by a decorated
plaster surface, with white, red, pink or yellow motifs. In
the middle of this structure were two large fired clay pillar
altars. In the eastern part of the structure, a rectangular altar
was found near a red-painted wall; a red and white painted
area of the south wall was also found near a clay platform
for four rectangular clay bins full of cleaned cereal grains.
In the southern part of the room, the remains of 36 vessels
were found, including storage jars and the finest decorated
wares. The specialised use of space is also found in the
western rooms: a flint-knapping area in the northern part
and a food-storage area in the southern part.
The Durankulak structures combine both the everyday and
the extraordinary, with a suite of stone houses with traces
of everyday dwelling practices, such as flint-knapping,
grinding, food preparation and storage. The ritual elements
– the life-size clay figures, pillar altars and painted wall-
plaster – appear to be concentrated in certain structures, in
particular in the largest of the stone structures, Structure
28
5 in Level VII, and Structure 9 in Level IVb. The place
of metallurgy in this basic sacred / profane duality is not
easy to establish (see below). What makes the Durankulak
settlement on the Big Island so striking is the size (both
vertical – two-storied – and horizontal) and complexity of
the stone architecture, which is hitherto unparalleled in the
Balkan Eneolithic. Nonetheless, it must not be forgotten that
the same stone architecture used to create the extraordinary
buildings is also used for the construction of the smaller
dwellings, a cross-referencing that is also connected to the
stone slabs which are used in many of the Middle and Late
Copper Age graves on the lagoon shore.
The settlement on the Big Island at Durankulak cannot
easily be compared to coeval settlements in the Bulgarian
Dobrudzha, since very few are known and even fewer have
been systematically excavated. The best comparandum
is therefore one of the tells which, although some 100km
from Durankulak, is at least completely excavated. This
is the tell of Vinitsa (Raduntcheva 1975), a small mound
measuring 55×45m, located on a broad river terrace of the
river Kamchiya. Some 50m southeast of the tell was a small
coeval cemetery containing over 50 graves. Five Copper
Age building horizons were identified; however, medieval
building activities have destroyed half of the third horizon
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
and most of the fourth and fifth horizons. The following
commentary therefore relates to only the earliest two phases
of occupation. This analysis was possible only because
A. Raduntcheva published the finds by house inventory,
one of the earliest examples of this mode of publication in
Bulgarian prehistory.
The earliest settlement on the area which later grew into a
tell was enclosed by a double palisade filled by packed clay
(Raduntcheva 1975:7 and Obr. 1). The settlement consisted
of ten buildings which had all the features of houses, with
hearths and ovens and small storage-pits in most structures.
It is interesting that the excavator emphasised that there were
neither central buildings nor shrines in this level (1975:30–
31); moreover, there were no recorded examples of painted
wall-plaster or two-storey buildings. The remains found in
the houses were in no way different from the models found
in House 2 (1975, Obr. 7/7 and 9) and the concentrations
of fired clay material culture of everyday dwelling. The
only exceptions could be the two fired clay house weights
(? for looms) in Houses 7 (1975:15), 8 (1975, Obr. 16) and
9 (1975, Obr. 18).
In Phase II, there is no sign of a palisade surrounding
the ten houses but signs of minor internal differentiation
are apparent. The three houses built on the highest part of
the low mound, Houses 12, 14 and 15, are connected by
entrances through their common walls, and the excavator
claims that these three houses contain the largest and most
diverse house assemblages (1975:47). Moreover, the
only example of a likely outside altar is found just outside
House 15. Some of the houses have wall plaster fragments
with signs of up to 13 re-plasterings. Some fragments
are sometimes covered in a thick layer of red ochre. The
distinguishing features of Houses 12, 14 and 15 include a
larger number of vessels, several fired clay anthropomorphic
and zoomorphic figurines and an anthropomorphic vessel,
as well as fragmentary Spondylus bracelets. However, fired
clay figurines do occur in other smaller houses, such as
House 18 (1975, Obr. 36/6–7), House 19 (1975, Obr. 38/5)
and House 20 (1975, Obr. 39/2-3) and one of the largest
ceramic assemblages in the tell comes from House 16 (1975,
Obr. 32–33).
The general picture from the first and second occupations
on the Vinitsa tell is one of a slow differentiation in social
practices, with deposition at the end of the life of a house
more significant in Phase II than in Phase I. But there is
a genuine absence of the kind of social and architectural
differentiation documented at Durankulak. At Vinitsa, the
growing place-value of an emergent tell does not compare
with the social complexity found on the Big Island at
Durankulak. In the case of northeast Bulgaria, therefore,
it is possible to support the claim that (aquatic) enclosure
makes a difference to the everyday and ritual practices of
coastal and inland communities. The vast difference in
size, complexity and range of grave goods between the
Durankulak and Vinitsa cemeteries is eloquent testimony to
the nature of material culture consumed at each site.
Enclosed tells in Hungary (with K.
Hardy)
One of the most striking developments in recent eastern
Hungarian prehistory is the discovery of encircling banks,
ditches or palisades around tells, what Raczky (1998;
29
Raczky et al. 2002:837) has termed a synthesis of Central
European and Balkan settlement forms. While several tells
have such enclosing features, e.g. Gorzsa (Horvath 1987),
Polgar-Bosnyak domb; cf. Uivar in the Romanian Banat
(Schier, in press), the most impressive site of this type so
far excavated is undoubtedly Csőszhalom, near Polgár,
in northeast Hungary. Here, a large horizontal settlement
covering 28ha includes a tell in the western part (Raczky et
al. 2002, Fig. 2) (Fig. 3.4). A magnetometer survey (Fig.
3.5) of the tell indicates that up to 13–16 (now estimated at
21) burnt houses were located in the uppermost layer of the
tell, which was itself surrounded by five concentric ditches
(2002:834 and fig. 2). Four hectares of the horizontal
settlement were excavated (or 15% of the total); 62 timber-
framed houses, 64 other structures, 238 pits and 68 wells
have been uncovered, together with 116 burials (2002:840).
The household clusters of house, pits and burials formed
larger groupings of several houses round each well. These
large-scale investigations offer the possibility of direct
comparison between the depositional practices on the
enclosed part of the site (the tell) and the unenclosed part
(the horizontal settlement). According to the 14C chronology,
the two parts of the site were more or less coeval: tell, 4820–
4530 Cal BC; horizontal settlement, 4830–4600 Cal BC
(2002, fig. 10).
Like many nearby Middle Neolithic sites, the horizontal
settlement stands on a Pleistocene terrace 1m above the
adjoining palaeo-channel (2002, fig. 2). However, because
of post-Neolithic aggradation, the level of the tell-to-be
lay 1.5m and perhaps as much as 2m below the level of
the present ground surface (UTP field observations, 1991).
At the base of the tell, a series of Middle Neolithic pits
and ditches attest to the first occupation of the area later
to become a tell (Raczky et al. 2002:837). This Middle
Neolithic occupation is but one of many such sites in the
Polgár area, indeed, it is evident that the Csőszhalom tell was
founded in the centre of the greatest concentration of Middle
Neolithic sites in the Upper Tisza Project’s Block 1 survey
area (for details, see Upper Tisza Project E-Book 1: http://
ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/projArch/uppertisza_ba_2003/
index.cfm). The concentration of antecedent settlements is
one of the relatively few distinguishing marks in a generally
flat landscape. It would be only after two or more centuries
of deposition and accumulation that the tell began to take
on a mound-like character which differentiated it vertically
from the remainder of the horizontal settlement.
The excavator’s phasing of the contexts found on the tell
and the two excavated inner concentric ditches indicates that
the two ditches were dug in the final phase (Phase 1) of the
tell’s life history. This would appear to mean that the first
three phases of the tell were not enclosed by any concentric
ditches but that, rather, the ditches were a final statement
about enclosure of a long-existing tell. Indeed, it could be
maintained that the external ditches (Phase 1) were never
coeval with the concentric palisades on the tell itself (Phases
4 and 2). This reading of Professor Raczky’s site phasing
makes the Csőszhalom complex much more interestingly
dynamic than has been previously imagined.
In the first Late Neolithic phase of ‘tell’ occupation
(Phase 4), the internal space is structured by a series of three
concentric palisades, each with four entrances aligned along
the cardinal points of the Csőszhalom world. The cardinal
points were broadly NNE–ESE–SSW and WNW (Raczky
et al. 2002, fig. 2). The ESE–WNW alignment is similar
 Enclosing the Past

30
Figure 3.4. Contour map of the Csőszhalom tell (source: Raczky et al. 2002).
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
Figure 3.5. Magnetic map of Csőszhalom. (source: Raczky et al. 2002).
to the axis of the paths between the lines of houses, as well
as the long axis of the majority of rectangular houses in
the horizontal settlement. This similarity emphasises how
everyday life on the horizontal settlement at Csőszhalom
was embedded in the cosmological principles defined more
emphatically at the tell. The excavator has claimed that,
at some time in Phase 4, the gaps between the palisades
were sealed off with clay, forming stretches of clay walls
2m in height (Raczky et al. 1996:17). This closure is a
dramatic statement about access into, and out of, the inner
sanctum. The apparent complete absence of outer features
dramatically increased the visual impact of the inner triple
palisades, even without any extra vertical height on what
was still a flat area. Because of the height of the palisades,
however, it would seem unlikely that anyone standing
within the innermost space could be seen by anyone outside,
and conversely. The sealing of the four passages through
the palisades may have been the final act of closure of the
enclosed space, perhaps at the end of Phase 4. It was only
later, perhaps by the end of Phase 3, that visibility between
inside and outside was possible.
While a complex enclosed space was being created at one
end of the site, the community was already constructing a
living area in other parts of the horizontal settlement (2002,
figs. 2 and 10; Raczky 1998). There is a strong contrast
between the principle of rectangularity on which the houses
in the horizontal settlement are based – a principle of
Middle Neolithic ancestry (e.g. Gubakút: Domboroczky
2003) – and the concentric circular principle of the tell’s
palisades. However, both tell and settlement drew upon the
same techniques of the erection of multiple timber posts for
constructing palisades and building rectangular houses; the
31
main structural features were timber posts of like diameter
and probably height. As we shall see later, the tell and the
settlement also drew on the same range of material culture,
although with different emphases.
However, Phase 3 at the tell-to-be is characterised solely
by rectangular structures within the tell (Raczky et al.
2002, fig. 2), made possible only through a rupture with the
tell’s past. The construction of the structures involved the
dismantling of the triple palisades and the infilling of the
palisade trenches, a dramatic event which challenged the
concentric principle of the inner palisades and completely
altered the visual form of the tell. In Phase 3, there was
no visual block to seeing the former ‘inner sanctum’, rather
open visual access to the structures inside an unenclosed
space. The dismantling of the palisades was apparently not
achieved by burning but rather by the removal of the timber
posts. Although this cannot easily be proven, it is possible
that the posts would have been used for the construction of
the houses in the horizontal settlement, as well as for use in
building the structures on the tell.
The contexts found in Phase 3 on the tell-to-be consisted
more of pits and fill contexts than of house and hearth
contexts. The in-wash of clay from the walls of the structures
and from other practices helped to contribute to the increased
depth of cultural deposit on the slowly forming mound. At
a certain moment in the tell’s life, the structures were burnt
down, presumably deliberately, together with their contents.
The mass of burnt daub was deposited mostly on the surface
of the tell-to-be, increasing the depth of the deposit and
helping to create the effect of a rather higher mound than
before.
In Phase 2, there was a reversion to the triple palisade on
Enclosing the Past

what was now a distinctive mound, the only one of its kind
on the bank of the Kengyel palaeo-channel. This second
timber construction also included a concentric arrangement
of pits, in which by far the largest quantity of lithics in that
phase were discarded. The pits and palisade trenches and
post-holes must have cut through the remains of the Phase
3 structures, causing a further rupture in the historical
sequence, despite the reversion to an earlier design. The
extra vertical height of the mound created a greater visual
impact for the palisades than in Phase 4. As with Phase 4,
the end of Phase 2 was marked by the dismantling of the
palisades and the re-use of the timber, presumably in the
construction of the Phase 1 structures on the tell, as well as
perhaps house construction in the settlement.
In the final phase of the tell’s life history (Phase 1), the tell
was radically separated from the settlement by the digging
of five concentric ditches outside the tell (2002, fig. 2). In
Bourdieu’s terms, an accumulation of five ditches would
have represented a massive commitment to the definition
of a ‘line’, a classic example of prehistoric overkill, the
repetition of a demarcation strategy far beyond the original
requirements of separating enclosed from unenclosed space.
A work study of the ditches indicates the removal of 30,000
ml of earth, involving a large work force – more than those
living on the tell (2002:834) but not, of course, necessarily
more than those living in the horizontal settlement. As
far as we are aware, this emphasis on centrality was
unprecedented in the prehistory of the Alföld Plain. Each
ditch may well have been constructed by different corporate
groups to define their respective places in the regional
or local social structure, as given material form by the
Csőszhalom complex. Some of these corporate groups may
have enjoyed close social ties with groups to the north and
west, given the nature of the Phase I pottery and the plan
of the concentric ditches. The question of the destination
of the excavated earth has not been discussed, though one
possible destination would have been the wattle-and-daub
walls for the houses in the settlement.
However, while the three Phase 2 palisades on the tell were
certainly built at the same time, it is by no means certain that
all of the five concentric ditches were dug at the same time,
as part of a grand final design to reinforce the separation
of settlement from tell. This is a conclusion based upon
the assumption that the final plan of a site is implicit in the
plan of its earliest phases. Barrett (1994) has criticised
this assumption for Stonehenge, noting that none of the
earlier phases necessarily pre-determined the form of the
subsequent phases. Since no excavation has yet been made
of the four outermost concentric ditches at Csőszhalom, we
cannot be sure of the chronological relationship of any of
these features to the sequence of events on the Phase 1 tell.
It is, therefore, conceivable that each ditch was added after
an interval of 10–20 years, as a horizontal reinforcement of
the vertical expansion of the tell. It is to be hoped that small-
scale excavations can be made in the future to determine the
precise sequence of constructional events. This may mean
that the labour required for the digging of the ditches was
spread over many decades rather than focussed in one single
massive construction event.
Whatever the sequence and timing of the concentric design,
moving from the outside to the inside of the enclosure was
structured by the series of four entrances aligned with each
concentric ditch, following the cardinal points established
for the palisades in Phase 4. Although the distance from
the outermost ditch to the inner enclosure is less than 100m,
the number of entrances which had to be navigated gives
a strong sense of procession: the goal of the voyage, the
‘inner sanctum’, is reached only after passing through many
stages of a well-composed route. By now, the absence of
palisades on the tell, combined with the 2–2.5m height of

Social practice Tell Flat settlement

Burial Mostly adult male and children. Mostly adults; very few
children.
Houses Rectangular houses generally burnt down; Rectangular houses rarely
rare 2-storey houses +incised/painted walls. burnt down;
1-storey structures.
Ovens Special Herpály type. Local type.
Pits and wells Pits common; no wells. Both pits and wells common.
Prestige wares High frequency. Moderate frequencies.
Imported sherds Tisza incised wares. Tisza; Samborzec-Opatów;
Herpály; Vinča; SBK; Iclod.
Figurines Figurine scene. Anthropomorphic and
zoomorphic.
Animal bones Wild > domestic (more domestic pig, more roe Domestic > wild (more
deer and aurochs); domestic cattle, equal number
more wild animal bones on tell than in ditches; of red deer and boar).
more ‘meat bones’ on tell than in ditches.
Lithics Dominance of limnoquartzites + little obsidian (more Slovakian)
General comment Household production + no increasing intensification of production;
on both tell and more Kraków and Dniestr imports on tell than on flat site;
settlement) end-scrapers locally made and deposited in tell ditches.

Table 3.2. Social practices on the tell and the horizontal settlement at Polgár-Csőszhalom. Sources: Hardy and Chapman
n.d.; Raczky et al. 2002; Schwartz 1998.

32
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
Figure 3.6. Plan of Iskritsa I pit site (source: Leshtakov et al. 2001).
the mound, presents a clear view from outside the tell of the
social and visual focus of ritual life in Phase 1 – the top of
the mound, with its special structure and unusual contents.
While few of the house assemblages have yet been
published, Raczky has presented two finds from House 9,
dating to Phase 1: a cult assemblage of fired clay discs, a
figurine and nine bowls, found on the floor of the house;
and, in an ash-filled pit cut from the floor, a necklace of
148 copper beads, a fragment of copper wire, four tiny
copper flakes and a set of 20 bone tubes. Together with
the Spondylus jewellery, bitumen for pottery decoration and
extra-regional lithics, this ornament hoard reinforces the
pattern of prestige exotic deposition on the tell (Raczky et
al. 1996).
The structures on the tell ended their lives with a dramatic
fire, and the re-distribution of the accumulated burnt daub
in various contexts, including the upper fill of the outer
ditches. This indicates that the ditches were still in use at
the time of the fire. Again, the visual impact of a complete
conflagration of the top of a tell must have extended over
kilometers and made this timemark (Chapman 1997)
something spectacular, witnessed by many members of
the surrounding communities. The 14C dates indicate that,
by the time of this fire, the main settlement had also been
abandoned. One possibility, therefore, is that the burning
of the tell structures symbolised the closure of the entire
settlement at Csőszhalom.
Now that the basic sequence of practices has been
reconstructed for the tell and the settlement, it is worth
attempting a comparison of the social practices defining
dwelling in the enclosed and the unenclosed parts of the
settlement. It should be noted that many practices are shared
33
between the two parts of the site, although there is clearly a
greater emphasis on special finds on the tell (Table 3.2).
In summary, there is a tendency for a stronger emphasis
on structured deposition on the tell, which involves five
elements: deliberate burning of houses; higher frequencies
of prestige painted wares; feasting based more on wild
than on domestic animals; deposition in ditches of locally
made tools from exotic imported raw materials; deposition
of exotic ornaments and ritual sets in the houses. These
social practices probably varied with time through the long
and complex sequence of events at Csőszhalom, as in the
preferential deposition of end-scrapers made of Dniestr
and Kraków flint in only the Phase I ditches. The nature
of deposition on the tell also changed cyclically with the
sequence of alternating houses and palisades.
However, it should not be thought that the horizontal
settlement stood in strong contrast to the tell in terms of
social practices. It was in the settlement that a total of 68
complete vessels was deposited in the upper fill of the ritual
shaft Context 272 (Raczky et al. 1997:42, figs. 27–28; cf.
Chapman 2000), while the range of the imported pottery
published so far (Raczky et al. 2002, figs. 5–6) is far wider
on the flat settlement than on the tell. We agree with the
excavator (1998:482) that the tell was the focus of special
social and ritual practices, but many extraordinary deposits
were also found in the flat settlement. The alignments of the
palisades and the entrances of the concentric ditches makes
visible the strong inter-relations between the enclosed and
unenclosed parts of the site, inter-relations which were in
constant tension through the opposition of two of the most
basic geometric principles of spatial organisation, the circle
and the rectangle.
Enclosing the Past
Eneolithic enclosures in southeast
Bulgaria
Our final comparison takes us to southeast Bulgaria,
where Gaydarska’s (2004) study of the long-term settlement
and landscape history of three micro-regions has produced
strong patterns of change and development in the use
of enclosed and unenclosed space. The limits of space
preclude a more comprehensive treatment of the full range
of settlements; in this chapter, we shall consider one pair
of sites: the unenclosed Iskritsa site (in itself a complex
of two separate Chalcolithic components); and the tell of
Merdzumekja, which becomes enclosed in a late phase of
its development.
The Iskritsa flat site is located in the opencast mining
area of Maritsa Iztok in southeast Bulgaria. It was found in
1988 during a field survey of the Maritsa-Iztok Expedition,
when scattered prehistoric pottery was found over an area
of 0.15ha. The site is located on the left bank of the river
Sokolitsa. The current interpretation of the prehistoric site
near Iskritsa is that it consists of two sites on each of two of
three neighbouring low hills – an Early Chalcolithic pit site
(Iskritsa I) and a Late Chalcolithic settlement site (Iskritsa
II) (Leshtakov et al. 2001). The end of the settlement was
connected to the eruption of a mud volcano.
At the so-called Iskritsa II site, two pits and a burnt
house were excavated. The surrounding general cultural
layer consisted of sand, gravel, clay, burnt house rubble,
charcoal and pieces of daub. The dwelling contained two
occupational levels, each marked by beaten clay floors.
Three postholes were also found. Burnt house rubble was
spread all over the area of the sondages. The stratigraphy
of the burnt feature was not coherent. In the eastern part of
the structure, the two floors and the rubble were relatively
intact, having ‘sunk’ into a fault and were covered by clay
and gravel. The west side of the feature was severely folded
Pit no. Stratigraphy
N4 Very worn
N10 Upper black crumbly soil + charcoal and decayed sherds/daub;
basal clay with dense charcoal and few sherds.
N11 Black-grey crumbly layer;
basal clay (? plastered surface).
N12 Uniform black-grey fill + small pebbles, daub, sherds and
bones.
N15 Grey-white fill with daub;
layer of broken vessels on 1mm-thick ash/charcoal layer;
main fill = brown-yellow sand;
layer of broken vessels;
basal strip of ash/charcoal;
base and sides plastered with clay.
N18 Grey-white layer + charcoal/sherds;
sandy soil;
basal yellow clay + dense charcoal;
base and sides plastered with clay.
N20 Uniform red-brown fill + occasional boulders.
N21 Uniform red-brown fill + occasional boulders and pebbles.
Table 3.3. Pit stratigraphy and finds at Iskritsa I.
34
and, all around it, there were traces of long-lasting surface
exposure. Some of the house rubble in the fault was not
fully fired.
Two almost simultaneous activities were given as an
explanation for this unusual stratigraphy. Together with, or
soon after, the burning of the house, the mud-volcano erupted
and opened a fault into which the east side of the dwelling
had sunk, while the west part was left on the surface and
subsequently folded. The clay and gravel from the eruption
sealed the floors and the plaster in the fault, thus preventing
them from complete combustion.
The finds from the cultural layer of Iskritsa II comprise
two fragments of cult vessels, 14 flint tools, a small adze,
a fragment of a bone needle, a complete small dish, sherds
and a bovine skull, together with fragmentary and complete
animal bones. The first pit contained two bovine skulls,
one on the bottom, and the other 10cm from the top of the
pit. The lower jaw was missing from the latter, which had a
large piece of charcoal placed on the forehead. The pit was
filled with crumbly black soil, mixed with sherds and a few
animal bones. The second pit was filled with reddish sand
and gravel, without any finds. Close inspection of a quarter
of the pottery from the burnt house showed the presence of
more Late Chalcolithic than Early Chalcolithic sherds, of
both fine and coarse ware. There were two vessels that had
more than 20 fragments of their rim and body, but were still
not complete.
The Early Chalcolithic ‘Iskritsa I’ site was located 200m
to the west, on the westernmost hill. Among the mediaeval
graves, there were up to 10 pits with prehistoric material,
mainly concentrated in the north part of the hill (Fig. 3.6).
The stratigraphy and finds can be summarised as on Table
3.3.
Summarising the above evidence, it is likely that the
breaking and deposition of pottery and structured deposition
in pits was a common social practice at Iskritsa. Pit
deposition most probably started during the Early Copper
Finds
Fine wares + 3 fillers (mica / organic / grog).
1 PS adze, 1 flint and 3 fragments;
restorable vessel profiles.
Very worn sherds.
2 flint tools and 2 fragments;
restorable vessel profiles;
very worn sherds.
Grindstone fragments, few animal bones
and sherds.
Very worn sherds.
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
Age and the consumption and/or deposition of ‘ritual’
food may have accompanied the event. The same activity
continued during the following centuries. There are
conspicuously few figurine fragments at Iskritsa, perhaps
only two anthropomorphic vase sherds. The widespread
distribution of sherds worn heavily on both their outer and
inner sides, as well as on the cross-section, suggests that the
prehistoric sherds were exposed to the open air for a long
time and then deliberately re-used as a component of the pit
fill. In addition, the surface deposition of pottery fragments
was practised and a building was constructed specially for
deposition. One possible reason for the emergence of the
building may be the deliberate monumentalisation of the
place, in which its cultural inscription on to the landscape
is accomplished through the erection of a positive feature in
contrast to the negative features distributed on the site (the
pits). Thus a specific entity is created in which the ancestors
(the pits), the present occupants (the surface deposition) and
the descendants (the building remains survive even the death
of its builders) are harmonised in the eternal landscape.
The place on which the building was constructed was
specially chosen to be visible only for people in the close
vicinity of the site. While the use-life of the building can be
dated to the Late Chalcolithic, the presence of Early Copper
Age pottery in the burnt rubble suggests a long-lasting
ancestor cult, in which personal, household or communal
enchainment with the previous inhabitants of the landscape
was crucial for successful social reproduction. It is likely
that Early Copper Age sherds were deposited on the surface
and/or in pits below or under the place where the building
was erected, which later were deposited in the ready building.
But it is also possible that the Early Chalcolithic sherds
were kept at settlement sites and deliberately brought and
deposited at Iskritsa during the Late Copper Age. In both
cases the link with the ancestors appears to be an important
issue during the Late Chalcolithic. The end of the building
was not a result of devastating natural process but rather
an intentional and managed burning of the feature. The
presence of unburnt together with burnt rubble in one and the
same in situ context is strong evidence for managed fire. It
may also be suggested that the house was deliberately burnt
as part of a rite of passage, in which ‘killing’ (burning the
old house) is followed by re-birth (the construction of a new
house). Indirect evidence for such a cycle is the renovation
of the floors of the burnt feature. Given the present state of
the data, it is not possible to explore the character of this
internal transition of the building. After the managed fire
event, the building was not re-built because of the eruption
of the mud volcano. The latter was not necessarily a rapid
and devastating process (Gaydarska 2004) and therefore
probably did not cause the house destruction. What it
prevented, however, was the subsequent occupation of the
site. The next traces of human activity are from the end of
the Bronze Age onwards.
During all the investigation seasons (1988–1994), a total
of almost 8ha was excavated. The field data suggest that
the prehistoric site at Iskritsa I consisted of one building
and several pits. Such a combination of features is not
considered to be typical for Bulgarian prehistoric sites
and I would suggest that Iskritsa was a place with special
meaning, for the enactment of significant social practices.
Both Iskritsa sites contain evidence for such practices, which
are usually named as non-utilitarian or sacred. According to
their understanding in current studies (Brück 2000; Brück
35
and Goodman 1999), these are elements of contemporary
habitus in which the very act of fragment deposition, pit
digging or house burning emphasises some current social
issue(s) but at the same time is indivisible from the long-
term attitude of reverence for their place and their ancestors.
Return journeys to the place where once the ancestors have
started the practice of surface and pit deposition add value
to the place. In turn, the place constitutes additional specific
meanings for any activity held on it, thus providing an area
for (re-)negotiation of social issues, for pilgrimage, worship
and devotion.
The reason for the initial choice of this particular place
is difficult to reconstruct. However, an assumption for the
possible attraction of the place could be made on the basis of
past and present environmental phenomena in Maritsa Iztok.
The river Sokolitsa is well known for the coal seams in the
profile of its banks. Some of them were still visible around
Iskritsa even a few years ago. A characteristic feature of the
coal in Maritsa Iztok is its spontaneous bursting into flame at
the very moment of the first surface exposure when it comes
into contact with oxygen. This is not a devastating process,
rather usually producing slow-burning embers and smoke
(pers. comm. P. Karacholov). So it is likely such spontaneous
mini-eruptions took place near Iskritsa when communities
have already inhabited the landscape along the Sokolitsa
valley. Indeed, the toponym ‘Iskritsa’ is a diminutive form
of ‘Iskra’, which means ‘sparkle’. The illumination effects
and the smoke may have attracted people’s attention and,
after the active process has stopped, the place where the
natural phenomenon had happened became a sacred place.
The visual properties that attracted people to this place
were transformed into a cultural statement, which gradually
developed as a site for pit-deposition of sherds both ancient
and modern.
The site – Drama – a tell-in-process-of-
becoming
Tell Merdzumekja is located c. 36km east of Iskritsa. The
site was the main focus of investigation during the long-
lasting German micro-regional research project called
‘Drama’ after the name of the adjacent village. The site was
almost totally excavated, with documentation provided of
occupations from the Neolithic up to the Early Iron Age (Fig.
3.7). Several publications present some of the evidence and
materials found on the tell but a detailed monograph on each
of the occupational levels is still in preparation (Lichardus
et al. 2001). The site is located on low hill in the flood
plain of Kalnitsa river at 119m asl. It is in a flat area with a
southwest aspect. The visibility from the tell is good over
the flood plain 2.4km to the northwest, over the first terraces
and the highest areas of the steep hill to the southwest, as
well as over the low hills 1.3 km to the northeast of the site.
The panorama to the southeast is limited by a small hill up
to 182m high.
The earliest occupation of the site is dated to the Karanovo
IV period. Two facts point to the at least partial enclosure of
the first settlement in the northwest part of the low natural
mound, by a double palisade: (a) the discovery of Karanovo
IV sherds in the base of the palisade trench; and (b) the
stratigraphic superposition of Karanovo V houses over
part of the palisade (Lichardus et al. 2001). The palisade
at the northwest end of the tell consisted of a double row
Enclosing the Past
Figure 3.7. Plan of Tell Merdzumekja, Karanovo VI level (source: Lichardus et al. 2001).
of postholes. The distance between the rows varies from
1.60m to 1.80m. Few details have been published about
the Karanovo IV occupation. The construction of an at
least partial palisade in the Karanovo IV phase would have
blocked visibility into and out of the low hill and channelled
movement.
The Karanovo V settlement was also probably enclosed
but, by then, the double palisade had been replaced by a C-
shaped ditch comprising one large (60% of the circumference)
and one small (10% of the circumference) segment, with
one large and one small gap (Fig. 3.7; Lichardus et al. 2001,
fig. 31). Small quantities of Karanovo V pottery were found
at the bottom of the ditch. The excavators did not state
whether or not the bank inside the ditch was also dated to
this phase. The ditch was re-cut six times; the chronology
of the six re-cut phases was not yet clear at the time of the
publication and a preliminary suggestion was made that
it is not impossible for the first three phases to have been
36
filled with material from the Karanovo V settlement. Part
of a second palisade system was found in the northeast
part of the site; the discovery of segments of a palisade
trench found “in many sections” (2001:87) suggests
some kind of interrupted palisade system perhaps akin to
British ‘interrupted ditch enclosures’. The replacement of
the palisade in the Karanovo V phase by a low bank and
ditch with entrances in the same places increased two-way
visibility while creating similar access pathways to and
from the site.
At least 61 houses were found on the tell, all located
within the area bounded by the ditch (N360), as were the
numerous pits and some shallow holes (Lichardus et al.
2001, fig. 31). On the basis of the overlapping of houses,
several building phases were claimed for the Karanovo V
period. The one-room houses covered between 27 m² and
94m². Their inventory consisted of ovens, grinding stones
(usually located close to the ovens), platforms, shallow
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
holes and ash-pits. Details of pit deposition were given
for only two pits (Nos. 67 and 26/33), both of which were
interpreted as sacrificial pits. The first one contained two
shepherd’s crooks made from antler. The second one had a
compact pottery scatter, over which numerous deliberately
fragmented tortoise shells were found. House finds
included fragments of pithoi, cooking vessels, table vessels,
spoons, miniature vessels, vessel ‘imitations’, pendants,
beads, Spondylus bracelets, buttons and bone applications
(Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 36 and table 28). Also found
on the tell are figurines, clay plaques, altars and other ritual
objects (Lichardus et al. 2001, tables.19–22). The figurines
were divided into two types. The first type was specially
made to facilitate deliberate fragmentation. In contrast, the
second type was produced in a way, which prevents fairly
easy fragmentation (Lichardus et al. 2001, figs. 37, 38).
Both figurine types were found fragmented, which made the
investigators conclude that this was some common act of
ritual breakage (Lichardus et al. 2001:94). Only one case
of a foundation deposit was reported from the Karanovo
V settlement; under the floor of house 900, in pit N966
there were two dishes with freshwater shells in each of them
(Lichardus et al. 2001, fig. 35).
Two further occupations are dated to the Late Copper Age
(Karanovo VI). These settlements were totally excavated
over an area of more than 10,000m². The settlement continued
to be enclosed by a later phase of the same C-shaped 2-
segment ditch, by now up to 8m in width (Lichardus et al.
2001, fig. 23). At the smaller gap between the ditches, a
complex of several pits and palisades was excavated, which
however, did not receive any interpretation. Excavation of
the 25m-wide zone between the ditch and the settlement area
revealed the presence of a bank whose base was fortified
with stones. The pottery in the upper ditch fill was mainly
from the Karanovo VI period. The presence of almost whole
Karanovo VI vessels and some exotic flint blades from
northeast Bulgaria, together with burnt house rubble, was
interpreted as an indication of deliberate ritual back-filling
of the ditch, after the transformation of the initial function of
the ditch. Active use of the ditch reinforced the traditional
spatial patterns of access and impediment to movement to
and from the tell, while reducing obstacles to visibility. As
the tell grew to a height of 3m, it slowly became a major
cultural monument in the gently sloping basin landscape.
At least 25 houses, shallow holes, storage pits and pits
with other functions were found within the bank and
ditch. Only two excavated features were found outside
the area bounded by the ditch: two pits (Nos. 830, 825),
interpreted as clay-pits. They were filled with ‘settlement
rubbish’ (Lichardus et al. 2001:65), viz. sherds, charcoal,
bones and daub, deposited soon after the final use of the
other pits. Traces of house reconstruction (e.g. N224), some
overlapping features and dwellings, whose plans were not
possible to reconstruct, made investigators infer more than
one occupational phase. It was not specified, however,
which set of features belonged to which phase.
The 25 houses from the Karanovo VI period were
suggested to have been distributed between several clusters,
each consisting of six to eight dwellings. The construction
of the houses was similar to the construction of the Early
Copper Age houses; several had interior wall decoration of
red spirals painted on white plaster (2001:54). Most of the
houses had a northwest / southeast orientation, rectangular
shape and their area varied between 20.5–104m². Some of
37
the bigger houses had a shed attached to one of the short
walls. All but one (N244) were one-storied houses, with
an entrance on the one of the short walls. In most of the
dwellings, there were domed ovens and related clay shelves
for storage of pottery. Also close to the ovens, there were
usually big pithoi, strainers, ladles, grinding stones, scrapers
and pestles. All of the houses were burned at the end of their
lives. The last settlement was abandoned after the houses
were deliberately levelled. The well-preserved pottery in
the houses made the investigators infer that the deposition
of the vessels and the successive destruction of the houses
was a deliberate act.
Two main types of pit were recognized in the Karanovo
VI period. The first type comprises shallow pits of irregular
shape, located very close to the houses. The second type
includes small, circular to oval pits with different depths,
located at some distance from the houses, which were mainly
used for storage. Traces of a ‘street’ were also found, which
took the form of a strip covered by small stones and sherds.
Those features identified as distinctive of the later
Karanovo VI occupational phase included a ritual platform
and a series of structured deposition places covered by stones
and a rectangular building (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig.16).
The ritual feature (N37) is reconstructed by the excavators
as a rectangular platform 3.4×4m in size, made from sand,
clay and chaff, whose surface was several centimetres above
the ground. On the right and left side of the platform, there
were two shallow rectangular pits. Along the north side,
a 2m-high wall was built. A raised path 2.2.m long and
0.75m wide was attached to the platform (Lichardus et al.
2001, fig.17). The feature had traces of a massive fire but
excavators had difficulties in deciding whether these were
a result of fire during the building of the feature, during
its existence, or after its active use. It contained sherds, a
spoon, a vessel with a round base, two miniature vessels,
two clay wheel models, two fragments of clay plaques and
a fragment of a zoomorphic figurine. The paucity of clear
dwelling traces led to the conclusion that feature 37 should
be related to ritual activity.
Building N206 from the later horizon had two rooms
with traces of a massive fire. Close to the building, there
were two places for structured deposition, each covered
by stones, plus one more at some distance; all in all, there
was a total of three large (Nos. 371, 241 and 253) and 23
small stone scatters. Generally, they follow a similar pattern
of deposition – tools, ritual objects, bones and sherds,
overlain by a stone scatter. In some cases, the bones were
in anatomical order. The deposition of figurines, fragments
of altars, etc., in between the bones led the investigators
to conclude that this resulted from deliberate rather than
accidental deposition. Most of the scatters were dug into
the earlier Late Copper Age (Karanovo VI) layer (houses
244 and 380 in particular).
Not surprisingly, finds from a completely excavated
Copper Age occupation were extremely numerous. The
main source for house contents is House 244, which,
together with the above described features, contained over
200 vessels (Lichardus et al. 2001, table 4). Some of the
vessels were whole and contained other vessels (Lichardus
et al. 2001). During a visit to a National Museum of History
exhibition about Drama (July 2002), we had the opportunity
to see the pottery from house 244. It consisted of mainly
whole, well-burnished, fine vessels of different shapes
and sizes. According to the excavators, this house was the
Enclosing the Past
only one with two storeys; on the second floor, the fine,
decorated pottery was kept, while, on the first floor, there
were the cooking and storage vessels. There were ovens
on both floors, and different types of stone tools were found
mainly on the first floor.
House N206 had a hearth, three whole vessels, 130 sherds
that belonged to restorable but still not whole vessels, a
figurine, a stylised zoomorphic figurine, a wheel model
and two rectangular vessels (Lichardus et al. 2001, fig.18).
Bone tools, polished stone tools, grinding stones and many
animal bones were also found in the building.
Each house produced an average of 15,000 sherds, from
which up to 200 vessels were restored (Lichardus et al. 2001
figs. 24–25). Apart from the vessels and the sets of vessels,
there were also lids, ladles, spoons, funnels and strainers.
The presence of earlier sherds in a later context received the
unlikely interpretation of the storage of building material.
Sherds and animal bones were found in the construction of
the ovens, floors and walls and it was concluded that these
were kept in the houses for future construction work. An
alternative explanation concerns the inclusion of older,
ancestral material in the materials used for building of new
structures, to presence the ancestors (for an example from
the Bronze Age of Mataci, in Dalmatia, see Chapman et al.
1996).
Very few metal objects were found (Lichardus et al.
2001, fig. 26), which contrasts strongly with the numerous
finds of slag, globules of metal, a tuyère and smelting pots.
These remains of metal production are potentially very
significant, since there are few, if any, examples of on-tell
evidence for copper smelting (Raduntcheva 2003:57). Bone
and clay figurines, anthropomorphic vessels, zoomorphic
figurines, clay models of wheels and boats, clay horns,
stylised zoomorphic figurines, altars, clay plaques, models
of ovens and cult buildings complete the variety of finds at
the Karanovo VI settlement (Lichardus et al. 2001, figs. 27–
30, tables 8–16). It was underlined that, despite a careful
search, the missing parts of the figurines were not found.
On a completely excavated site, this indicates transport of
parts of figurines off site (for the southern Bulgarian tell of
Dolnoslav, see Chapman and Gaydarska 2006).
The post-Karanovo-VI history of the site can briefly be
summarised. The last (sixth) phase of ditch fill of N360 was
accepted as belonging to a period post-dating the Karanovo
VI occupation of the site. There was no evidence of houses
co-eval with this final ditch re-cut within the enclosed space.
The only Early Bronze Age occupation on the tell comprises
the digging of two pits and the deposition of sherds; two
almost whole vessels were found in pit 75 (Lichardus et
al. 2001:41 and fig.13). More secure Early Bronze Age
evidence derives from an area immediately southeast
of the tell. A settlement from the Cernavoda III period
was excavated over an area of 300m². The cultural layer
consisted of a scatter of wall rubble, sherds and numerous
pits (Lichardus et al. 2001, figs.14, 15). A burnt house of
wattle and daub construction and a clay-coated wooden
floor was found. Ten meters from the building, a pit with
pottery, stones, melting pots, fragments of tuyère and metal
globules was excavated. This evidence was interpreted as
an indication of on-site metallurgy.
A comparison of the two sites, Iskritsa and Merdzumekja,
suggests a range of similar social practices which have,
however, been concentrated if not extended at the enclosed
site. At both sites, there are:
38
1: houses or structures built of (Merdzumekja) or on
(Iskritsa) thick clay platforms especially constructed for
deposition of special finds;
2: ancestral sherds deposited in houses constructed in later
periods (at Merdzumekja, these are also built into the
ovens and walls and floors of houses);
3: deliberate burning of houses at the end of their lives.
However, at Merdzumekja, these practices of structured
deposition have been extended in several ways, including
the amassing of huge quantities of vessels into a household
‘death assemblage’ (e.g., the 2-storey House 244), the
frequent episodes of structured deposition from the earliest
phase of occupation (sherds placed in the post-holes of the
Karanovo IV palisade) up to the latest Copper Age dwelling
(complete vessels, exotic flints and burnt house daub placed
in the ditch), as well as the creation of a new type of context
for deposition of everyday finds in special ways (the stone
scatters of the late Karanovo VI occupation). All of these
practices indicate a strong ritual focus on deposition at
Merdzumekja, which is not paralleled at Iskritsa.
Another difference between the sites is the apparent
absence of structured deposition in pits at Merdzumekja,
in contrast to Iskritsa, where there are several pits with
unusual finds (whole vessels, animal skulls) and evidence of
burning. This difference may well be real, since the German
excavators have recognised structured deposition in other
contexts. A third difference concerns the construction of a
single two-storey house (N244) at Merdzumekja, in contrast
to the Iskritsa buildings. There are also several houses
with red painted plaster on the tell. Finally, there is the
presence (unusual for Balkan tells) of on-site evidence of
metallurgical production at Merdzumekja, for which there
is no trace of evidence at Iskritsa. The latter, however, has
its own pyrotechnics which are clearly absent from the
enclosed tell, the spontaneous combustion of coal leading
to the minor eruption of a mud-volcano. This remarkable
manifestation of local geology clearly turned Iskritsa into
a special place where the chthonic realms touched the
surface life of the surrounding communities. On the tell, in
contrast, a slowly diversifying place-biography, enhanced
by very different forms of enclosure, led to the emergence
of a central place whose distinctive features were strongly
predicated upon structured deposition of a variety of forms.
It would seem that the enclosure of the tell was part of the
earliest (Karanovo IV) occupation and remained so until
after the final house-burning phase in late Karanovo VI.
This made a difference from other sites, both in Drama and
in Maritsa Iztok. Here, at least, we can identify a case where
early enclosure not only maintained, but made a significant
difference to, the character and symbolic significance of a
settlement.
General discussion
The recurrent theme in studying enclosed sites and
whatever is deposited within them is of great variability.
Perhaps not surprisingly, this is also the case with Neolithic
and Copper Age enclosures in Central and Eastern Europe,
where local communities are drawing upon a wide range
of often shared (or at the very least overlapping) suites of
practices and material culture in rather specific ways to
negotiate their individual paths through the complex social
world of settled life.
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
There is a consistent settlement background to the
emergence of the practice of enclosure. Enclosures emerged
from within a pattern of established, settled communities,
more often than not at village scale. This is the case with the
settled Vinča villages of southern Serbia, e.g. Pločnik, just
west of the Leskovac Basin (Grbić 1929), and cf. Divostin,
further north in Šumadija (McPherron and Srejović 1988).
While there may be no examples of 50-hectare sites in
the southern part of the Vinča distribution (cf. Chapman
1990, fig. 2.19), the sites comprise dense artefact deposit
amidst house remains covering 2–10ha. Similarly, in
Wallachia, tell-living emerges in the Late Boian period, co-
eval with the earliest known enclosed sites. In southeast
Bulgaria, too, Neolithic tells such as Gudjova mogila
were established in the Maritsa Iztok area well before the
occupations at Iskritsa (Gaydarska 2004), while only flat
sites representing homesteads are known before the first
dwelling on Merdzumekja, in the Drama valley (Lichardus
et al. 2001). In Hungary, the discovery of a large (40ha) flat
Middle Neolithic site at Polgár-46, some 5km southwest of
Csőszhalom, indicates significant settlement agglomeration
in northeast Hungary prior to the emergence of tell enclosure
(Chapman et al. 1997; UTP). It is only on the Black Sea
littoral that there is hitherto no evidence for communities
larger than homesteads prior to the settlement on the Big
Island (Dimov 1992). Here, the major landscape foci
were large cemeteries, such as Hamangia and Ceamurlia
de Jos (Berciu 1966), with the largest known located at
Durankulak. It is therefore perhaps no coincidence that
enclosure post-dates, as well as overlapping in time with,
the strongest mortuary nucleation on the Black Sea coast. It
can, therefore, be argued that, far from representing an initial
concentration of social practices, the earliest enclosures
were at least in part a response to intra- and inter-community
tensions found in already existing nucleated sites. In other
words, we are dealing with a classic case of an emergent
arena of social power, in which there is the potential for
distinctive social action not hitherto possible on settlement
sites (cf. Chalcolithic cemeteries, see Chapman 1991). To
what extent was this potential realised?
We seek to answer this question with a consideration of
form, content and place-biography. To begin with the two
intra-site comparisons, the three sectors at Late Vinča Gradac
reveal systematic differences in the content of depositional
practices (especially figurines and metallurgy) but not in
their overall form. Deposition in pits on the Big Plateau is
not necessarily more intensive than in the other two sectors
but it is more widespread, because the Plateau is larger than
the occupation site on the Southwest Slope and because the
hilltop deposition went on over more than decades. This
would suggest that another significant difference between
hilltop and other locales concerns their place-biographies:
the Big Plateau accumulating a longer and more diverse
narrative, in turn leading to continued deposition.
The role of place-biography is also important at
Csőszhalom, where the tell-to-be was established in the
middle of the largest cluster of former Middle Neolithic
homesteads in the Polgár Block. While the radiocarbon
dates confirm occupation of several hundred years on
both the tell and the horizontal settlement, there is a sense
in which social practices are much more concentrated on
the tell than in the settlement. If Raczky is correct that the
horizontal settlement was not occupied throughout at the
same time, the mobility of the house groupings would be a
39
contrast to the timeless solidity – in its own place – of the
place that grew into a tell. This tell solidity is, of course,
a fiction, as shown by the alternations of structures and
palisades, unenclosed and ditch-enclosed space. But it
was a convenient fiction, supporting the local elites in their
maintenance and expansion of social power – those ritual
leaders who were the only persons able to perform vital
ceremonies on behalf of the community on the enclosed
space. What Csőszhalom also shows us is the interdigitation
of social practices between settlement and tell, whether in
construction of buildings, burials, prestige pottery or exotic
lithics. The differences between animal bone deposition on
the tell and the settlement, for instance, are hardly greater
than between the inner tell and its surrounding ditches.
But what may appear to be relatively minor differences in
the content of deposition may have taken on much more
significance by dint of the context and form of their final
deposition. There is thus an inevitable recursiveness in the
interpretation of paired comparisons.
Turning to inter-site comparisons, the area where the least
differences are apparent is southern Serbia, where the scale
and form of deposition at Valač is broadly similar to that
in any of the three Gradac sectors. The centaur figurine
is given great prominence at Valač, perhaps more so than
with any comparable figurine type at Gradac, but this is
the only focus of special deposition. It is the noteworthy
combination of centaur discard within a palisaded space and
inside a drystone wall in a rocky place which makes Valač
so different from almost every other Vinča site.
The two cases of settlement on an islet which formed
its own natural enclosure produced very different types of
contrasts. The strongest contrast between the two sites lies
in their locations in their landscapes. The massive tell of
Gumelniţa is a dominant presence in the landscape, rising
high above the first terrace on which it stands. The islet of
Căscioarele is sometimes hardly visible against the higher
terraces surrounding the lake, suggesting a liminal place
separated from everyday life. These contrasts in emotional
content as much as in topography were built on and
exploited in the settlement of each place. Social practices
at Căscioarele included deposition of some extraordinary
ritual finds, many within the two-storey buildings with
painted walls and pillar altars which are not replicated at
Gumelniţa. Betokening extensive exchange networks and
power relations, the latter’s exotic imports are not paralleled
at Căscioarele, even though many material forms are
common to each site.
In the closing stages of their occupation, both Durankulak
and Vinitsa dominated their landscapes as high and
significant monuments. However, settlement on the ‘Big
Island’ was a deliberate choice of a rocky islet naturally
dominating the Durankulak liman and towering over the
shoreline which was first settled in the Early Hamangia
period and whose adjoining terrain was transformed into
one of the largest mortuary spaces in the Balkans. Since the
islets of Căscioarele and Durankulak are of fundamentally
different character, it may not be surprising to find elite
residences and elite control of ritual places on Durankulak
Island, with any notion of liminality subsumed under more
generic power relations. The stone architecture, two-storey
structures and life-size figurines remains share one common
emphasis, on prestige generated through size. By contrast,
the space settled at Vinitsa was initially not a mound but a
palisaded settlement with a secluded interior, which lost its
Enclosing the Past
palisade in Phase II. Thereafter, it was only with the passage
of social time that the mound emerged and the site began
to assume visual prominence in the surrounding landscape.
Low-level social and material differentiation may have
marked out some of the houses but there were no signs of
major distinctions. In this case, the selection of a dominant
islet made a major difference to the long-term biography of
one of the key sites in European prehistory.
The landscape context of the final pair of sites is rather
similar: sites in the lower part of their respective valley,
each with good visibility in most directions. As the
Merdzumekja occupation grew into a tell, the visibility
for the occupants changed little but the tell itself became
more prominent in the Drama basin. Neither of these sites
gives the impression of the landscape dominance expressed
at Durankulak, Gumelniţa or Valač. The main difference
in the development of these sites is the way in which the
Iskritsa hill remained the same size, at least until the end
of the occupation, co-eval with the minor eruption of the
mud volcano, while Merdzumekja was transformed into
a tell. While Iskritsa and Merdzumekja shared several
similar social practices, the focus of the latter on household
and other accumulation and deposition, as well as on the
significance of fragmentary figurines, built upon the more
extensive place-biography of the tell to ground the deposits
in a more complex and recursive site history.
It can thus be claimed that the landscape specificities of
each site are closely related to the form of deposition, if not
the exact content. The extreme cases here comprise the small
rocky hilltop site of Valač and the extensive flat-topped Big
Island at Durankulak. To what extent do communities in
these sites – each pair remote from every other pair – draw
upon a common stock of symbolic resources to enrich the
bricolage of their material practices?
Before a discussion of such shared practices, it should
be noted that structured deposition is as much a feature
of unenclosed as of enclosed sites in Central and Eastern
Europe (Chapman 2000a), indeed it forms the habitus for
such shared practices. This point was reinforced in one
of the author’s study of settlements in southeast Bulgaria,
where, although hardly recognised by the excavators,
structured deposition was present at almost all of the sites
(Gaydarska 2004).
A cluster of practices is sufficiently recurrent between our
sample of sites to merit further discussion. Three relate to the
context of deposition, four to its content. Special deposition
in pits is documented at all of the sites except Căscioarele and
Gumelniţa, though deep shafts cutting through ancestral tell
layers are known at the latter. There are several sites which
consist wholly or largely of pits, the so-called ‘pit-fields’
of the Big Plateau at Gradac, the Hamangia settlement at
Durankulak and Chalcolithic Iskritsa. These sites indicate
medium- or long-term commitment to place through the
primary mechanism of deposition of a range of things in
pits; the start and finish of each occupation of such sites was
probably sanctified through deposition in pits (Chapman
2000). Pit deposition is thus a characteristic of unenclosed
and enclosed sites, while pit-fields typify a smaller number
of both site classes. A second frequent context of deposition
(in some cases the term should be accumulation) concerns
houses deliberately burnt at the end of their use lives. Burnt
houses are known at the majority of these sites but there
are also significant absences: Valač (cf. presence at Gradac/
Southwest Slope), Vinitsa (cf. presence of much burnt
40
daub on site at Durankulak: 1996 visit) and Csőszhalom
flat site (cf. overwhelming presence on the tell). It should
also be noted that burnt house daub was taken from dead
houses and incorporated into ditch fill at Csőszhalom and
Merdzumekja, as an enchained accumulation of meaning-
laden ancestral material. Again, it is difficult to differentiate
unenclosed from enclosed sites on this criterion, though
the re-deposition of burnt daub in ditches is a feature of
only enclosed sites. The third context of deposition is the
mortuary context, which is rarely associated with special
structures at sites such as Căscioarele, Gumelniţa, the tell
at Csőszhalom, but apparently neither the south Serbian nor
the southeast Bulgarian sites. It is only at Durankulak and
Vinitsa that separate cemeteries provided an alternative arena
of social power for local elites. The relationship of mortuary
practices to enclosure appears distant, with regional burial
traditions the stronger influence on mortuary practices. An
exception to this principle is found at Csőszhalom, where
children are commonly buried on the tell, yet hardly at all
on the flat site. In general, then, the contexts of deposition
are not restricted to enclosed sites but form a wider network
of practices throughout the whole range of sites.
Turning now to the content of deposition, in many ways
the feature of Balkan Neolithic societies most different from
those of the Northwest European Neolithic is the profusion
of figurines. It is thus not surprising that concentrations
of (generally fragmentary) figurines occur at most of
these sites, though, again, there are significant absences:
two sectors at Gradac (both Plateaux; cf. presence on the
Southwest Slope house and at Valač); Vinitsa (cf. presence
at Durankulak tell); both sectors of Csőszhalom and
Iskritsa (cf. presence at Merdzumekja). The frequency, size
and form of deposited figurines would appear to be good
criteria for distinguishing unenclosed from enclosed sites.
Many of the figurines, especially at Valač, are crusted with
red pigment. Indeed, the prominence of the colour red in
several media provides a symbolic referent for all of the
enclosed sites but for only Vinitsa of the unenclosed (red
ochre powdered on to house daub). By contrast, it is the
yellow/black contrast which is so impressively figured in the
well deposit at the horizontal settlement at Csőszhalom and
at other Hungarian Neolithic sites (for the symbolism of red
at Lepenski Vir, see Borić 2002; for Varna and Durankulak
colours, see Chapman 2002). The incidence of feasting has
increased in line with ever finer archaeozoological criteria
(e.g. Russell 1994). The piles of food remains from the
1925 excavations at Gumelniţa remain possible evidence
for feasting, although the emphasis on primary meat bones
from especially red deer at Căscioarele and on red deer and
other wild animals at Csőszhalom suggest venison and boar
steaks as the most sought-after dishes. Although there is
uneven archaeozoological investigation of unenclosed sites,
it would appear that feasting remained the province of those
with access to enclosures. Finally, in this early stage of
copper metallurgy, the processes may well have required
what Childe (1950) called ‘magico-religious practices’ for
efficient birthing of copper objects. Three out of the four
sites where traces of copper have been found are enclosed
sites: the copper workshop at Durankulak is matched by
traces of on-tell copper smelting at Merdzumekja, while
an ornament hoard of copper beads was deposited at the
Csőszhalom tell. The only exception is the Southwest
Slope house at Gradac, with its fragments of copper. The
special intensity of ritual practices on enclosed sites may
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
well have been an important factor in successful copper
production. Thus, the general rule is that it is the content
of special practices rather than their spatial context, which
distinguishes enclosed from unenclosed sites.
Concluding remarks
Four main points emerge from this comparative survey
of unenclosed and enclosed sites in Neolithic and Copper
Age Central and Eastern Europe. First, we have identified
a range of social practices in five regions in this study
area in which the context of deposition is widely shared
within both unenclosed and enclosed sites and the content
of deposition is widely shared within only enclosed sites.
Other chapters in this book indicate that the spatial context
of such deposition is even more widely distributed in other
parts of Europe, while the content of deposition, especially
for figurines, is more specific to this study area. This means
a network of concepts and practices that has developed
across many Neolithic and Copper Age communities in the
Balkans and beyond, as part of the habitus for many related,
and unrelated, people. Secondly, because every site is, at
some level, unique and redolent with its own landscape
features and specific depositional characteristics, we find
a strong sense of community identity, of difference from
all others, especially neighbouring sites or sectors. This
indicates a high level of community selectivity of those
aspects of the shared habitus which is available to most, if
not all, of these settlements. Explanations of the elements
selected at any particular place will require understanding at
the local level, involving such concepts as place- and object-
biographies, cultural memory and the rupture of traditions.
Thirdly, while (because?) the number of known enclosed
sites in this area is still low in comparison to unenclosed
sites, the enclosed sites have created a difference. This
difference may have been stronger in some areas (the Black
Sea coastal zone), weaker in others (southern Serbia) but
it can be identified. By dint of the recursive relationship
between places and objects, even if two identical red-
crusted figurines are deposited respectively at an enclosure
and at a nearby unenclosed settlement, that figurine takes on
the metaphorical attributes and place-values associated with
the enclosed site, adding to the place-value of the enclosure.
To paraphrase the famous Cretan Heraklitus: “ You cannot
cross the same palisaded enclosure twice …”.
The study of enclosure in this part of Europe is still in its
early stages; like a rebellious teenager in a strict household,
the data do not readily fit into a single interpretative scheme,
but are always making vocal protests at the poor fit with
our expectations. The rapidity with which the conclusions
reached in this chapter become outdated will surely be the
criterion for the pace of change and development of this
research topic in the next decade.
Acknowledgements
JCC would like to thank Pál Raczky for much hospitality
and many discussions over Csőszhalom; Henrieta Todorova
for her stimulating discussions of Durankulak; and Silvia
Marinescu-Bîlcu for initiating me into the mysteries of
Căscioarele and Gumelniţa. BG wishes to thank Boris
Borissov for his supportive and helpful discussions. KH
41
would like to thank Pál Raczky also for inviting her to study
the Csőszhalom lithics and Katalin Bíro for discussions of
lithic raw material sources. All of us thank the editors for
their kind invitation to contribute a chapter to the book.
Bibliography
Aitchison, N. 2000. Scotland’s Stone of Destiny. Stroud:
Tempus.
Andreescu, R.-R. 2002. Plastica antropomorfă Gumelniţeană:
analiză primară. Bucureşti: Muzeul Naţional de Istorie a
României.
Barrett, J. 1994. Fragments from Antiquity: an archaeology of
social life in Britain, 2900–1200 BC. Oxford: Blackwell.
Berciu, D. 1966. Hamangia cultura: noi contribuţii. Bucureşti:
Institutul de Arheologiă al Academiei RPR.
Bolomey, A. 1965. The animal bones. In V. Dumitrescu,
Principalele rezultate ale primelor două campanii de săpături
din aşezarea neolitică târzie de la Căscioarele. Studii şi
Cercetări de Istorie Veche şi Arheologie 16/2:215–238.
Borić, D. 2002. Apotropaism and the temporality of colour:
colourful Mesolithic – Neolithic seasons in the Danube Gorges.
In A. Jones and R. MacGregor (eds.) Colouring the Past: the
significance of colour in archaeological research, pp. 23–44.
Oxford: Berg.
Bourdieu, P. 1991. Language and Symbolic Power. Cambridge:
Polity Press.
Braasch, O. 1995. 50 Jahre verloren. In Luftbildarchäologie in
Ost- und Mitteleuropa. Forschungen zur Archäologie im Land
Brandenburg 3:109–122. Potsdam.
Brück, J. 2000. Ritual and rationality: some problems of
interpretation in European prehistory. European Journal of
Archaeology 2/3:313–344.
Brück, J. and Goodman, M. (eds.) 1999. Making Places in the
Prehistoric World: themes in settlement archaeology. London:
UCL Press.
Chapman, J. 1981. The Vinča Culture of South-East Europe: studies
in chronology, economy and society. British Archaeological
Reports Internat. Ser. 117. Oxford: British Archaeological
Reports.
Chapman, J. 1990. The Neolithic in the Morava-Danube
confluence area: a regional assessment of settlement pattern.
In R. Tringham and D. Krstić (eds.) Selevac: a Neolithic
village in Yugoslavia, pp. 13–44. Los Angeles, CA: University
of California Press.
Chapman, J. 1991. The creation of social arenas in the Neolithic
and Copper Age of south-east Europe: the case of Varna. In
P. Garwood, P. Jennings, R. Skeates and J. Toms (eds.) Sacred
and Profane. Oxford Committee for Archaeology Monogaph
32:152–171. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Chapman, J. 1997. Places as timemarks: the social construction
of prehistoric landscapes in eastern Hungary. In G. Nash (ed.)
Semiotics of Landscapes: archaeologies of mind. British
Archaeological Reports Internat. Ser. 661:31–45. Oxford:
Archaeopress.
Chapman, J. 1999. The origins of warfare in the prehistory of
Central and Eastern Europe. In J. Carman and A. Harding
(eds.) Ancient Warfare, pp. 101–142. Stroud: Alan Sutton.
Chapman, J. 1999a. Deliberate house-burning in the prehistory of
Central and Eastern Europe. In A. Gustafsson and H. Karlsson
(eds.) Glyfer och arkeologiska rum – en vänbok till Jarl
Nordbladh, pp. 113–126. Göteborg: Institute of Archaeology,
University of Göteborg.
Chapman, J. 2000. Pit digging and structured deposition in the
Neolithic and Copper Age of Central and Eastern Europe.
Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 66:61–87.
Chapman, J. 2000a. ‘Rubbish-dumps’ or ‘Places of deposition’?
Neolithic and Copper Age settlements in Central and Eastern
Europe. In A. Ritchie (ed.) Neolithic Orkney in its European
Enclosing the Past
Context, pp. 347–362. Cambridge: McDonald Institute for
Archaeological Research.
Chapman, J. 2002. Colourful prehistories: the problem with
the Berlin and Kay colour paradigm. In A. Jones and R.
MacGregor (eds.) Colouring the Past: the significance of
colour in archaeological research, pp. 45–72. Oxford: Berg.
Chapman, J. and Gaydarska B. 2006. Parts and wholes.
Fragmentation in Later Prehistoric Context. Oxford: Oxbow
Books.
Chapman, J., Pollard, J., Passmore, D.G. and Davis, B. 1997.
Sites and palaeo-channels in the Polgár lowlands, North
East Hungary: the Upper Tisza Project 1996 field season.
Archaeological Reports for 1996 (Durham and Newcastle
upon Tyne), pp. 12–21.
Chapman, J., Shiel, R. and Batović, Š. 1996. The Changing Face
of Dalmatia: archaeological and environmental studies in a
Mediterranean landscape. Society of Antiquaries Research
Monograph. London: Leicester University Press.
Childe, V.G. 1950. Magic, Craftsmanship and Science: the
Frazer Lecture, Liverpool, 10/XI/1949. Liverpool: Liverpool
Free Press.
Dimov, T. 1992. Kulturata Hamangia v Dobrudza. Dobrudza
9:20–34.
Domboróczky, L. 2003. Radiocarbon data from Neolithic
archaeological sites in Heves County (North-Eastern Hungary).
Agria 39:5–76.
Dumitrescu, H. 1968. Un modèle de sanctuaire découvert dans la
station énéolithique de Căscioarele. Dacia N.S. 5:69–93.
Dumitrescu, V. 1925. Fouilles de Gumelniţa. Dacia 2:29–102.
Dumitrescu, V. 1964. Considérations et données nouvelles sur le
problème du synchronisme des civilisations de Cucuteni et de
Gumelniţa. Dacia N.S. 8:53–66.
Dumitrescu, V. 1965. Căscioarele: a Late Neolithic settlement on
the Lower Danube. Archeology 21:34–40.
Dumitrescu, V. 1965a. Principalele rezultate ale primelor două
campanii de săpături din aşezarea neolitică târzie de la
Căscioarele. Studii şi Cercetări de Istorie Veche şi Arheologie
16/2:215–238.
Dumitrescu, V. and Bănăţeanu, T. 1965. A propos d’un soc de
charrue primitive, en bois de cerf, découvert dans la station
néolithique de Căscioarele. Dacia N.S. 9:59–67.
Dumitrescu, V. 1966. New discoveries at Gumelnitza. Archeology
22:162-172.
Erdogu, B. 2003. Visualizing Neolithic landscapes: the early
settled communities in Western Anatolia and Eastern Aegean
islands. European Journal of Archaeology 6/1:7–24.
Gaydarska, B.I. 2004. Landscape, Material Culture and Society
in South East Bulgaria. Unpub. PhD Thesis, University of
Durham.
Gojda, M. 1997. The contribution of aerial archaeology to
European landscape studies: past achievements, recent
developments and future perspectives. European Journal of
Archaeology 5/2:91–104.
Grbić, M. 1929. Pločnik: eine prähistorische Ansiedlung aus der
Kupferzeit. Beograd: Narodni Muzej.
Hardy, K. and Chapman, J. n.d. The Lithic Assemblage at Polgár-
Csőszhalom: a Late Neolithic settlement in the Upper Tisza
region. Unpub. Report to the British Academy.
Höckmann, O. 1968. Die menschengestaltige Figuralplastik.
Münstersche Beiträge zur Vorgeschichtsforschung 3/4.
Hildesheim.
Horvath, F. 1987. Hódmezővásárhely-Gorzsa: a settlement of the
Tisza culture. In P. Raczky (ed.) The Late Neolithic in the
Tisza Region, pp. 31–46. Budapest-Szolnok: Szolnok County
Museums.
Jovanović, B. and Glišić, J. 1960. Eneolitsko naselje na Kormadinu
kod Jakova. Starinar N.S. 11:113–142.
Kruts, V. 1989. K istorii naseleniya tripolskoye kulturi v
mezhdurechye Yuzhno Buga i Dnepra. In S.S. Berezanskaja
(ed.) Pervobitnaya archeologiya: materialy i issledovanija.
42
Sbornik naučnych trudov, pp. 117-132. Kiev.
Kruts, V. 1990. Planirovka poseleniya u s. Talyanky i nekotorye
voprosi tripolskogo domostroitelstva. In Rannezemledelcheskye
poselenya-giganti tripolskoyi kulturi na Ukraine, pp. 43-47.
Talyaniki.
Lazarovici, Gh., Draşovean, Fl. and Maxim, Z. 2001. Parţa.
Monografie arheologică. Timişoara: Waldpress.
Leshtakov, K., Kuncheva-Russeva, T. and Stoyanov, S. 2001.
Prehistoric Studies: settlement studies. Maritsa Iztok,
Archaeological research V, pp. 15-68. Radnevo.
Lichardus, J., Fol, A., Getov, L., Bertemès, F., Echt, R.,
Katincharov, R and Iliev, I. 2001. Izsledvania v mikroregiona
na selo Drama 1983–1999. Sofia: Unversitetsko izdetelstvo
‘Sv. Kliment Ohridski’.
Makkay, J. 1982. Eine Kultstätte in Szarvas und Fragen der
sakralen Hügel. Mitteilungen der Ungarischen Akademie der
Wissenschaften 10/11:45–57.
Marinescu-Bîlcu, S. et al. (16 authors) 1998. Archaeological
researches at Borduşani-Popină. Cercetări Arheologice
10:35–143.
McPherron, A. and Srejović, D. (eds.) 1988. Divostin and
the Neolithic of Central Serbia. Pittsburgh: University of
Pittsburgh Dept. of Anthropology.
Minichreiter, K. 1992. Starčevačka kultura u Sjevernoj Hrvatskoj.
Zagreb: Arheološki Zavod Filozofskog Fakulteta Sveučilista
u Zagrebu.
Minichreiter, K. 1998. The oldest Neolithic water-well in Croatia
from the Early Starčevo settlement near Slavonski Brod. In H.
Koschik (ed.) Brunnen der Jungsteinzeit. Köln: Rheinland-
Verlag GmbH.
Monah, D. and Cucos, St. 1985. Aşezarile Culturii Cucuteni dîn
România. Iaşi: Junimea.
Mužijević R. and Ralph, E. 1988. Geomagnetic surveys at
Divostin. In A. McPherron and D. Srejović (eds.) Divostin
and the Neolithic of Central Serbia, pp. 389–413. Pittsburgh:
University of Pittsburgh Dept. of Anthropology.
Němejcová-Pavúková, V. 1995. Svodín I: zwei Kreisgrabenanlagen
der Lengyel-Kultur. Bratislava.
Raczky, P. 1998. The late Neolithic tell of Polgár-Csőszhalom and
its relationship to the external horizontal settlement in light
of recent archaeological data. In P. Anreiter et al. (eds.) Man
and the Animal World. Bökönyi-Festschrift, pp. 481–489.
Budapest: Archaeolingua.
Raczky, P. et al. (6 authors) 1996. Two unique assemblages from
the Late Neolithic tell settlement of Polgár-Csőszhalom. In T.
Kovács (ed.) Studien zur Metallindustrie im Karpatenbecken
und den benachbarten Regionen. Mozsolics-Festschrift, pp.
17–30. Budapest: Nemzeti Múzeum.
Raczky, P. et al. 1997. Polgár-Csőszhalom-dûlő. In P. Raczky,
T. Kovács and A. Anders (eds.) Utak a múltba: Az.M3-as
autópálya régészeti leletmentései, pp. 34–43. Budapest:
National Museum and ELTE.
Raczky, P. et al. (16 authors) 2002. Polgár-Csőszhalom (1989–
2000): summary of the Hungarian-German excavations on a
Neolithic settlement in Eastern Hungary. In R. Aslan et al.
(eds.) Mauerschau: Festschrift für Manfred Korfmann, pp.
833–860. Remshalden-Grunbach: Greiner.
Raduntcheva, A. 1975. Vinitsa: eneolitno selishte i nekropol.
Razkopki i Prouchvania 6 Sofia: Izdatelstvo na BAN.
Raduntcheva, A. 2003. Kusnoeneolitnoto obstestvo v bulgarskite
zemi. Razkopki i Prouchvania 33. Sofia: AIM BAN.
Richards, C. 1996. Henges and water: towards an elemental
understanding of monumentality and landscape in late
Neolithic Britain. Journal of Material Culture 1:313–336.
Russell, N. 1994. Hunting, Fishing and Feasting: human uses of
animals in Neolithic south east Europe. PhD thesis, University
of California at Berkeley.
Schier, W. in press. Uivar: a late Neolithic fortified tell settlement
in Western Romania and its natural environment. To appear
in D. Bailey, A. Whittle and V. Cummins (eds.) Unsettling the
 Chapman and Gaydarska: Does enclosure make a difference?
Neolithic. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Schwartz, C. 1998. Eastern Hungary: animal bones from
Polgár-Csőszhalom. In P. Anreiter et al. (eds.) Man and the
Animal World. Bökönyi-Festschrift, pp. 511–514. Budapest:
Archaeolingua.
Spassov, N. and Iliev, I. 2002. The animal bones from the
prehistoric necropolis near Durankulak (NE Bulgaria) and the
latest record of Equus hydruntinus Regalia. In H. Todorova
(ed.) Durankulak Band II. Die prähistorischen Gräberfeld von
Durankulak, pp. 313–325. Berlin: DAI.
Stalio, B. 1972. Gradac. Praistorijsko naselje. Beograd: Narodni
Muzej.
Stevanović, M. 1997. The age of clay: the social dynamics of
house construction. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology
16:334–395.
Tasić, N. 1957. Praistorijsko naselje kod Valača. Glasnik Muzeja
Kosove i Metohije 2:3–63.
Tasić, N. 1959-60. Završna istraživanja na praistorijskom naselju
kod Valača. Glasnik Muzeja Kosove i Metohije 4–5:11–82.
Todorova, H. (ed.) 1989. Durankulak Tom I. Sofia: BAN.
Todorova, H. 1997. Durankulak. Fritz Thyssen Stiftung Jahres-
bericht 1995–96:81–84.
Todorova, H. 2002a. Durankulak Band II. Die prähistorischen
Gräberfeld von Durankulak. Berlin: DAI.
Todorova, H. 2002b. Die geographische Lage der Gräberfelder:
Paläoklima, Strandverschiebungen und Umwelt der
Dobrudscha im 6.–4. Jahrtausend v. Chr. In H. Todorova
(ed.) Durankulak Band II. Die prähistorischen Gräberfeld von
Durankulak, pp. 17–25. Berlin: DAI.
43
Todorova, H. 2002c. Einleitung. In H. Todorova (ed.) Durankulak
Band II. Die prähistorischen Gräberfeld von Durankulak, pp.
11–176. Berlin: DAI.
Todorova, H. and Dimov, T. 1989. Ausgrabungen in Durankulak
1974–1987. Varia Archaeologica Hungarica 2:291–306.
Todorović, J. and Cermanović, A. 1961. Banjica: naselja vinčanske
grupe. Beograd: Muzej Grada Beograda.
Trnka, G. 1991. Studien zu mittelneolithischen Kreisgraben-
anlagen. Mitteilungen der Prähistorischen Kommission der
Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 26. Wien.
Turner, V. 1967. The Forest of Symbols: aspects of Ndembu ritual.
Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
Van Gennep, A. 1960. The Rites of Passage. London: Routledge
and Kegan Paul.
Vasić, M. M. 1911. Gradac, preistoriske nalazište latenskog doba.
Glasnik Srpske Kraljevine Akademije 85:97–134.
Videjko, M. 1995. Großsiedlungen der Tripol’e-Kultur in die
Ukraine. Eurasia Antiqua 1:45–80.
Whittle, A., Bartosiewicz, L., Borić, D., Pettitt, P. and Richards,
M. 2002. In the beginning: new radiocarbon dates for the
Early Neolithic in Northern Serbia and South-East Hungary.
Antaeus 25:63–117.
Web-reference
http://ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/projArch/uppertisza_ba_
2003/index.cfm
4: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia in their
central European context
Vladimír Podborský and Jaromír Kovárník
Abstract: From the very beginning of the Neolithic, there
occur in Europe examples of the enclosure of certain
noteworthy settlements by means of a ditch, wooden palisade,
and sometimes by an earthen bank. Such settlements
became known to archaeologists from the 20s and 30s of
the last century. Their interpretation has fluctuated from
economic explanations (kraals or winter quarters for cattle,
market-places, food storage), through defensive and ritual
concepts, to the idea of seignorial seats or aggrandising
‘central’ sites. A corresponding terminology was devised
for each individual interpretation. Both Neolithic and post-
Neolithic enclosures, however, have to be understood in
a differentiated way; one must distinguish the encircling
enclosure of sites from the enclosure of circular or square
areas inside or on the edge of sites, to which a socio-cultic
function is today unambiguously assigned. Apart from this,
the question of enclosing is connected with the building
of the earliest hilltop fortified sites – hillforts – and the
existence of the newly discovered linear ditches and pit rows
(pit alignments). All these forms of Neolithic enclosure or
fortification are considered in this article on the basis of
the situation in Moravia, where between 1968 and 1978 a
Neolithic circular ditched area, or ‘rondel’, belonging to the
Lengyel culture (with so-called Moravian Painted Pottery),
was discovered, excavated and interpreted for the first time
in central Europe. In the article, consideration is given to
Neolithic ‘rondels’ from a pan-European standpoint.
Keywords: Neolithic, enclosure, ‘rondel’, hilltop
settlement, linear ditches, pit alignments.
Moravia, historically a constituent part of the Czech
Republic, falls within the cultural sphere of the middle
Danube with its component territories – southwest Slovakia,
western Hungary (Pannonia), and Lower Austria – and
shared the same fate as them in prehistory. In 1967 a Late
Neolithic enclosed circular area or ‘rondel’ was discovered
at the locality ‘Sutny’ near Těšetice-Kyjovice in southern
Moravia, and between 1968 and 1978 this was investigated
in detail; it was the first discovery of its kind in central
Europe. With it the era of the so-called ‘rondel archaeology’
was inaugurated, which in the ensuing decades has seen the
appearance of several dozen similar sites in Europe from
Hungary to western Germany. In Moravia the tradition of
investigating Neolithic enclosures, and more recently post-
Neolithic as well, has continued since that time (Podborský
(ed.) 1999, 2001).
In the course of discovering and evaluating new
fortification elements on settlements, no distinction was
usually made between enclosures surrounding the whole
site and enclosures surrounding only a larger or smaller
circular area within the site. The enclosure elements – ditch,
palisade, sometimes an earth rampart – were of course the
same in both cases, and at the start little attention was paid
to the plans of the enclosed areas; in any case they were
frequently unclear, given the small extent of the trenches
44
opened.
It thus came about that a single interpretational criterion
was applied to enclosures of very different kinds, so that
a proper conception of the function of individual types
of enclosure was difficult. In the literature a range of
suggestions for interpreting Neolithic enclosures was made
over the course of time. The survey of possible functional
interpretations of undifferentiated Neolithic earthworks
which Petrasch offered (1990a:369, 371; cf Kaufmann
1997:46) may serve as an example. According to him, we
could be dealing with the following:
1. Fortified places (defensive formations);
2. Refuges (‘Fluchtburgen’);
3. Cattle enclosures (‘kraals’);
4. Fortified kraals;
5. Winter quarters or markets for cattle;
6. Fortified market-places;
7. Neolithic ‘seignorial residences’;
8. Places for cult ceremonies;
9. Places connected with burial activities;
10. Central meeting-places with economic, social and cult
functions;
11. Supra-regional meeting-places, in which communal
feasts took place.
From the standpoint of terminology a considerable degree
of arbitrariness also ruled; authors generally either wrote
of ‘fortified areas’ or ‘ditched areas’, or, influenced by
the presumed function of such features, of ‘cult places’,
‘markets’, ‘cattle enclosures’ (cattle kraals), ‘seignorial
residences’, ‘citadels’, ‘village churches’ and so forth.
Only gradually did people come to differentiate the two
basic types of enclosure/fortification: surrounding and
internal. In what follows we will strictly observe this basic
distinction.
Surrounding enclosures
The earliest true evidence of settlement enclosure on a
central European scale comes from the Early Neolithic,
from the LBK milieu, and already from its early phase; in
all, in the wider central European area, six enclosures of
this earliest horizon have been discovered. Eilsleben (early
phase), Eitzum and Brno-Nový Lískovec are the most
important. The greatest incidence of settlement enclosures,
however, falls at the close of this culture, when their number
increases especially on the borders of LBK distribution on
the Lower Rhine (Darion, Erkelenz-Kückhoven, Köln-
Lindenthal, Langweiler 3, 8, 9, etc), and in the other
settled areas. From Moravia six localities in all are so far
proven, with an enclosure ditch either excavated to some
extent (Brno-Nový Lískovec, Uničov, Vedrovice) or at least
recorded (Bořitov, Černá Hora, Rájec-Jestřebí) (Berkovec
and Čižmář 2001). From neighbouring Lower Austria,
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia

apart from the most significant earthwork at Asparn-Schletz
(Windl 1996, 1999), there are also the sites of Pulkau and
Weinsteig-Großrußbach (Lenneis et al. 1995:32), and from
Pannonia above all Becsehely (Kalicz 1983–84:287, plate
2).
In the majority of cases the basic element of the enclosure
is a ditch of moderate depth, trough-shaped profile, and flat
bottom (‘Sohlgraben’), but pointed ditches (‘Spitzgraben’)
also appear, especially on later sites. The course of the ditch
is very often followed by an internal palisade (or palisades)
and a presumed earth rampart; the question of the erection
and placement of an earth rampart (outside or inside the
ditch) is currently hard to resolve; each specific situation
must be looked at individually.
Of the Moravian sites, Vedrovice must be mentioned,
where three Neolithic ditch lines were found superposed on
one another (Fig. 4.1):
I: a ‘Sohlgraben’ enclosing a settlement of middle LBK
date (c. 5400–5200 BC);
II: the ‘Spitzgraben’ of a small ‘rondel’ of the Lengyel
culture with so-called Moravian Painted Pottery (MPP)
of the early developed phase (c. 4600–4500 BC); and
III: the slight ‘Spitzgraben’ of a trapezoidal rondeloid of the
MPP early phase (c. 4800–4700 BC) (Humpolová and
Ondruš in Podborský (ed.) 1999, fig. 2,3; Humpolová
2001). The Vedrovice settlement thus belongs to those
sites with continuous enclosure ditches, for which one
imagines some sort of ‘genius loci’, or which were
marked out as ‘loci consecrati’.
The thorough excavation of Asparn-Schletz in Lower
Austria produced very important results, especially for
interpreting the meaning of Early Neolithic enclosures
(Windl 1996, 1999). A ditch with flat bottom (‘Sohlgraben’)
was identified there, in the earliest settlement phase,
enclosing a trapezoidal area with sides up to 400m long;
this early formation was overlain in the southwest part by
massive oval ditched fortifications about 7ha in extent, in
places renewed up to three times, dating to the late LBK and
the Želiezovce period. The ditch of this late earthwork was
broken in at least five places by earthen ‘bridges’ or causeways
(entrances); the two main ones, connecting east to west, are
still respected at the present day (!) by the communication
routeway called (significantly) the ‘Totenweg’ (Fig. 4.2, 8).
In the fortified area the characteristic groundplans of Early
Neolithic long houses, clay ovens and depressions were
found. Excavation of the fill of the latest ditch produced a
surprise, consisting (in the part so far excavated) of around
one hundred skeletons of murdered people. They lay in
groups, on top of one another, or individually, just as the
victorious attackers had thrown them into the ditch. They
had numerous fatal wounds on their skulls and bones, caused
by blows with blunt instruments and arrowheads. Traces of
gnawing by dog teeth showed that the dead were left for
some time to their fate. Anthropological analyses have
shown that they were part of the normal settled population.
The complete absence of weapons with these skeletons
is plain evidence of the fact that the inhabitants were not
prepared for this attack; they were taken by surprise.

Figure 4.1. Vedrovice, southern Moravia. A: plan of the ensemble of Neolithic settlement structures; I: enclosure of the
LBK culture, II: ‘rondel’ of the Lengyel (MPP) culture, III: rondeloid of the early Lengyel (MPP) culture. B: profiles of the
ditches, 1: structures in enclosure I; 2: structures in enclosure II, 3–5: structures in enclosure III. A after Podborský; B
after Humpolová.

45
Enclosing the Past

46
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
The situation at Asparn-Schletz, according to the
excavator, indicates a long-standing hostile confrontation
with some local settlement unit or units. Most likely the
site had ambitions to become the central settlement of
the region; the result of this was a marked concentration
of inhabitants, perhaps several hundred people, clearly
possessing significant material means; this may have been
one of the motives for the attack on the settlement (Windl
1999:54).
In our consideration of the usual ideas about the
significance of Moravian and Middle Danubian Early
Neolithic enclosures, we may begin with the study by
Kaufmann (1997), who set out the most up-to-date list of
sites on a European scale, with descriptions, dividing them
into three types (Langweiler, Köln-Lindenthal, Darion),
and provided some thoughts about the causes for their rise,
development and function. Naturally we must also take into
account Kaufmann’s earlier work, as well as the studies of
other scholars, namely Höckmann (1975, 1990), Lüning
(1988), Petrasch (1990), Bogucki (2001), etc.
From the point of view of site purpose, a consideration
of enclosures of Köln-Lindenthal type is perhaps especially
justified; these sites are distributed along the Lower Rhine
(Fig. 4.2, 7, B–D). The relatively extensive areas enclosed
in this type (3–4 ha) have an oval to rectangular outline;
they are as a rule defended by ditches with flat or pointed
bottoms, banks and palisades. The interior space was
occupied, and the water source (spring or well) was also
included in some instances. Evidence of violent attacks
and battles, in some cases human bone remains with traces
of violence, has been found by archaeological excavation
on sites of this type (Eilsleben, later enclosure; Erkelenz-
Kückhoven; Köln-Lindenthal, later ditch B and C; Asparn-
Schletz, later earthwork).
Enclosures of Langweiler type normally have an oval
or irregularly oval to trapezoidal plan, fortified by one or
more ditches, normally with pointed base, and without
internal palisade (Fig. 4.2, 1, 3). The area enclosed is
slight (less than 1ha) and not subdivided; evidently there
was no permanent occupation on them, as no house plans
are attested (Kaufmann 1997:67). Perhaps they are more
like cult places to which the inhabitants of the surrounding
settlements came to perform ceremonies in honour of the
vegetative forces of nature, that is to ensure crop growth and
fertility; finds of ovens, carbonised grain, stone grinders
and so on attest to that. In this connection one should not
ignore the suggestion of Petrasch (1990:489, 492) that it is
these enclosures that represent a developmental stage on the
road to the rise of Middle and Late Neolithic circular sites,
that is, the ‘rondels’. This idea becomes much more likely if
a relatively late date can be demonstrated for enclosures of
Langweiler type within the framework of the Early Neolithic,
as well at least a formal similarity with early Lengyel sites
of the Middle Danube (Frauenhofen, Vedrovice III, Sé) and
perhaps also with contemporary sites of the Upper Danube
(Straubing-Lenchenhaid; cf Hašek and Kovárník 1996).
Single-phase enclosures of Darion type, whose number
is so far limited, are the most difficult to classify (Fig. 4.2,
4). These are sites somewhat smaller than was the case with
the preceding class, in most cases having a roughly regular
oval outline, again surrounded by ditch, palisade and bank.
Figure 4.2 (opposite). Enclosures of the Early Neolithic LBK. 1. Langweiler 8; 2. Uničov; 3. Langweiler 9; 4. Darion; 5.
Brno-Nový Lískovec; 6. Erkelenz-Kückhoven (W = water source); 7. Köln-Lindenthal; 8. Asparn-Schletz. 1, 3, 6, 7 after
Kaufmann, 2, 5 after Čižmář, 4 after Keeley & Cahen, 8 after Windl.
47
They can be subdivided into residential (usually southern)
and economic (usually northern) parts. On the eponymous
site four house plans were recovered in the southern half of
the enclosure; the northern part was used for grazing and
as a place for various industrial activities (stone-working,
crop silos, grain-grinding, fodder storage, etc). According
to Kaufmann (1997:58, 66, 71) these are sites designed for
agricultural and industrial activity and distributed above all
in western Europe.
Although the outline of a typological division of Early
Neolithic enclosures is useful, one cannot regard it as
absolute, either chronologically or geographically. The
numbers of Early Neolithic defended sites are not so large
that their typology could be confirmed statistically. The
explanation of the function of Early Neolithic enclosures
therefore proceeds across all three basic types of earthwork
considered above.
In essence, there are three principal reasons for enclosing:
‘magical’, economic, and defensive, the last two closely
connected with each other.
The spontaneous wish to protect oneself against the
dangers of the surrounding world, whether real or imagined,
is a general feature of the human psyche. The enclosure
or fortification of human settlements is “an inherent
phenomenon of Early Neolithic cultures” (Höckmann
1990:81; cf Makkay 1990), the stimulus for which came
from Anatolia and the Balkans to the interior of Europe,
according to these authors. If, however, the tendency to
protect settlements is a universal human phenomenon, then
perhaps it is not necessary to rely on external influences to
explain it; a ‘polycentric’ origin for Neolithic enclosures is
quite conceivable.
The constructional elements of enclosure or fortification
(ditch, palisade, sometimes earthen rampart) are in practical
terms the same, and in many cases it is hard to distinguish
one from the other. Vencl (1997:36) summarised opinions
about the mythological or magical meaning of prehistoric
fortifications, which apparently separate a “clean and sacred
space inside from an unclean and demonic outside”, while
cautioning against an underestimation of their military,
defensive function. If genuine fortifications had a symbolic
rather than a practical meaning (Neustupný 1995:199),
this would apply even more to the simple enclosures. The
greater number of entrances into the earthworks would in
such a case not be a detrimental factor. It would then be
comprehensible if cult activities took place on some types of
enclosed site, as has been suggested for sites of Langweiler
type.
However, we cannot be sure about a purely magical
explanation for enclosure. It seems that here as in other aspects
the sacred or mythological viewpoint is overemphasised to
the detriment of genuine day-to-day needs. Thus we come to
the economic explanation of the causes of enclosure. Each
community protected its possessions (herds of cattle, stored
food and fodder, raw materials) and its natural resources
(wells, cisterns, springs) behind ditches and palisades; it
is not necessary to ascribe this purpose just to enclosures
of Köln-Lindenthal type, although it is there that this seems
especially well-founded. The larger and richer an enclosed
settlement unit, the greater the significance it acquired, in
that it could aspire to an administrative or leading function,
Enclosing the Past
or even to become the cult centre of a district. Exchange
contacts could also be realised there. A natural, perhaps a
confrontational, wariness of other similarly ambitious units
would then arise.
Of course the construction of larger enclosed or fortified
settlements could not take place without good organisation.
The digging out of the ditch at Asparn-Schletz will have
created a good thousand large truckfuls of earth; a simple
farming population with no internal structure could not have
managed such a task, according to Windl. One imagines
that society was internally differentiated in social terms,
at least in this late phase of the Early Neolithic; Windl
(1999:54) even suggests the existence of some kind of
‘feudal structure’, the rise of which would obviously have
been hastened by military danger. Ideas about the Neolithic
egalitarian ancestral society, the “golden age of humanity”
of the period (Brentjes 1973), or about the “amiable
government of tender woman’s hand” and suchlike, were
long ago discredited. Social stratification is also markedly
evident in contemporary cemeteries.
Early Neolithic enclosures were perhaps not built primarily
for defensive reasons; they arose instinctively in the course
of development, in connection with population growth, and
clearly peaked at the close of the Early Neolithic, when the
LBK population suffered an obvious crisis.1 At that point – at
a time of genuine danger of military attacks – some original
enclosures were perhaps remodelled for defensive purposes,
and other new, intentionally defensive, constructions were
built. At the end of the LBK, the number of enclosed or
fortified settlements increased markedly. These were a
genuine defence against attack, and furthermore acted as
a demonstration of force and strength. However, defence
motives may have existed on the peripheries of the farming
oikumene in Europe already from earliest times; this perhaps
was a question of defence against indigenous Mesolithic
peoples.
Of present-day specialists, it is especially Windl who
prefers the defensive, fortress interpretation of earthworks
(1999:54ff.). He leans towards the notion that enclosed or
fortified settlements of Schletz type were genuine closed
forts, to some extent independent and relatively densely
inhabited. If, for example, the settlement at Asparn-Schletz
had about 300 inhabitants, it could have contributed eighty
fighting men to its defence; too small a number according
to Windl, given the length of the fortification (around 800m)
and the existence of at least five entrances. Because of the
insufficient number of fighting men, women probably also
had to take part in the defence of the site. The larger number
of entrances into the interior, which originally made life
easier (simpler access to the settlement from all points of
the compass), now revealed itself as a great weakness; it
was exactly here that an aggressor could more easily attack,
and it was the entrances that one would have to defend
especially well. At Asparn-Schletz the devastating battle
took place exactly around these entrances.
1
The decline of Early Neolithic LBK civilisation is connected by some
scholars with a pan-European crisis, provoked by a population explosion
and insufficient food resources on the one hand, and by the pressure of
a new, progressive, Late Neolithic population with Painted Pottery from
the southeast on the other. This crisis led to a range of mutual aggressive
conflicts, the destruction especially of the large central settlements and
the slaughter or sacrifice of their inhabitants (Windl 1994, 1999). This is
possibly a somewhat catastrophic vision of the end of a single Neolithic
era, from which one should perhaps not generalise. For a buffer area
between the two, newly forming post-LBK worlds (the pre- and proto-
48
Human skeletons with traces of fatal blows, on the other
hand, do not have to be indications of a genuinely defensive
function for enclosures. As Kaufmann (1997:68) shows,
the find of a tightly crouched skeleton of a 17–19 year old
woman together with a cow’s skull, having a blow to the
forehead and placed under a layer of nine spreads of stone,
deposited in the half-filled ditch of the latest fortification
at Eilsleben, is evidence of sacrifice rather than aggressive
attack. Certainly more evidence for human sacrifice,
placed in abandoned ditches for religious reasons, could be
quoted.
Nonetheless, human skeletons in a range of earthworks
of Köln-Lindenthal type (though not only these) are proof
of real massacres in war. The contexts of deposition and
the numbers of buried skeletons with signs of fatal wounds
caused by stone axes, shoe-last adzes and flint arrowheads
attest to this: at Thalheim 34 individuals (16 children and
adolescents, 18 adults consisting of nine males, seven
females and two of uncertain sex); at Vaihingen 55 skeletons
in the ditch and 29 others in a pit not far from the ditch, etc;
these numbers are of course far from final, since no site has
been completely excavated.
Finally, a very important reason for the construction of
enclosures is the need to secure water supplies. Both late
and final phases of the LBK belong to the dry oscillation of
the Atlantic period, when ensuring the survival of wells or
natural water sources was important.
To summarise: Early Neolithic enclosures appear from
the very beginning of the LBK in central Europe; their
number gradually increases and peaks in the late and final
phases of LBK development. Among the reasons for their
rise are above all the defence of material assets (including
raw materials and water sources) from neighbouring
competing agricultural groups, in some cases also more
distant groups of surviving Mesolithic plunderers; the
defensive motivation for the rise of earthworks increased in
significance towards the end of the the LBK period, when its
bearers entered a period of serious internal social crisis and
external threat. I do not think magico-mythological reasons
for the rise of fortifications were primary. On the contrary,
a special significance can be assigned to the rise of smaller
unoccupied sites of Langweiler–Frauenhofen–Vedrovice III
type, which are a sign of the diversification of enclosures
and a key idea for the ensuing socio-cultic architectures.
The enclosure of settlements naturally did not end with
the decline of the Early Neolithic LBK civilisation. In the
east-central part of Europe, the Middle Neolithic starts at
the beginning of the fifth millennium BC; new southeastern
currents begin to assert themselves, leading to the rise of
the Painted Pottery Culture – the Lengyel Culture and its
local groups. In the west-central part of the continent the
development leads to the rise of the poorer cultures with
stroke-ornamented pottery (Stichbandkeramik, SBK).
On the Middle Danube at this time the separation of the
two worlds mentioned above continued; the eastern part
Lengyel world to the east and the Šárka-Oberlauterbach to the west), it
does perhaps apply. And it was Lower Austria and southern Moravia that
formed this buffer area! It was exactly here that one can discern both the
traces of the decline of the late LBK population, and the evidence of the
macabre end of one of the regional centres – the settlement at Asparn-
Schletz. One can understand the probable withdrawal of part of the late
LBK population from this dangerous zone as either a cause or a result of
the pressure of new cultural elements from both sides. The penetration of
Želiezovce and Šárka elements into the Moravian-Lower Austrian zone is
archaeologically attested.
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia

Figure 4.3. Enclosures of the Middle (1–3, 7) and Late Neolithic. 1. Pavlov, southern Moravia; 2. Plotiště nad Labem,
eastern Bohemia; 3. Frauenhofen, Lower Austria; 4. Wetzleinsdorf, Lower Austria (4a: plan of a house ‘of Lengyel type’
with ‘courtyard’); 5. Hluboké Mašůvky, southern Moravia (5a and b: plan and reconstruction of the gate in entrance no.
IV); 6. Falkenstein-‘Schanzboden’, Lower Austria; 7. Jülich-Welldorf, western Germany. 1 after Kazdová, 2 after Vokolek
& Zápotocká, 3 after Lenneis, 4, 6 after Lenneis et al., 5 after Podborský, 7 after Lüning.

49
Enclosing the Past
(Pannonia, western Slovakia) leans towards the emerging
Late Neolithic civilisations with Painted Pottery, the western
part (Lower Austria, Moravia) becomes a part of the retarded
civilisation with stroke-ornamented pottery. In the contact
zone between the two parts, on the other hand, penetrations
occurred in each direction.
In the western part of the Middle Danube, one can now
observe a clear population decline. The SBK-people
link up with their predecessors, but remain isolated from
progressive influences from the southeast, and their material
and spiritual culture declines. So far we know relatively
little about their settlements, but in recent years enclosed
sites of the SBK have been successfully located (Fig. 4.3,
1–2): Pavlov in southern Moravia (Kazdová 2000, fig.
1); and Plotištĕ nad Labem in eastern Bohemia (Vokolek
and Zápotocká 1997:6, fig. 3). In both cases we have an
enclosure surrounding a relatively large irregular oval area
with internal buildings. The smaller broadly oval enclosure
at Frauenhofen near Horn in Lower Austria (Fig. 4.3, 3) is
distinct from them; one must understand it as a prototype
for the somewhat later Late Neolithic ‘rondels’.
Further earthworks of the early Grossgartach culture in
central Germany correspond chronologically to the latter,
for instance Jülich-Welldorf (Fig. 4.3, 7) or Langweiler 12
(Lüning 1983–84:16, Pl. 2), while the larger oval enclosures
of the Rössen culture, for example Inden I (Fig. 4.9; Lüning
1983–84:17, Pl. 6; Preuss, (ed.) 1988:188 Beilage 6,
Map 11:9), are somewhat later. Here in western Europe,
diversification of enclosures also occurred; from the
oikumene of the Rössen culture we already know of both a
classic circular ‘rondel’ (Bochum-Harpen) and the traces of
a quadrangular enclosure (Bochum-Laer) (Lüning 1983–84,
fig. 4, 5).
The period of the later Neolithic2 and Eneolithic (in the
middle and southeast European terminology) saw further
differentiation of enclosed and fortified settlements. Sites
with surrounding enclosures continue, differentiated both
morphologically and functionally; already from the early
phase of the Lengyel culture the fortified hill-top settlement
type (hillfort) appears. However the internal enclosure
became the dominant phenomenon especially of the
succeeding Late Neolithic (Lengyel culture), predominantly
of circular form (‘rondels’), but in individual instances also
quadrangular enclosures.
The best-known Late Neolithic surrounding enclosure in
Moravia is the earthwork of the MPP culture3 at Hluboké
Mašůvky (Fig. 4.3, 5); the site is famous for the find of the
well-known female figurine, the ‘Hluboké Mašůvky Venus’,
and for the reconstruction of one of its entrances as a fortress
gate (Fig. 4.3, 5a,b) (J. Neustupný 1948–50). Further
evidence for surrounding enclosure apparently comes from
the uncovered part of the pointed-base Late or epi-Lengyel
multi-phase ditch at Seloutky in central Moravia (Čižmář
2001, spec. 247). In both cases the site apparently had a
surrounding enclosure and a ‘rondel’ inside.
The best example of a Late Neolithic Painted Pottery
Culture complex enclosure in Lower Austria comes from
2
The terms ‘Middle’ and ‘Late’ Neolithic are understood differently in
different areas. In the German literature the concept ‘Late Neolithic’ is
restricted to the period roughly 3500–1900 BC, that is to the time otherwise
known as Eneolithic or Chalcolithic, and the period c. 4500–3500 BC is
designated ‘Middle Neolithic’. In the central and southeast European
terminology, after the Early Neolithic (LBK, 5600–4900 BC) comes the
Middle Neolithic with Stroke Ornamented Pottery (Stichbandkeramik,
SBK) and the proto-Lengyel horizon (4900–4600 BC), and finally the Late
50
Wetzleinsdorf (Fig. 4.3, 4); its importance is increased
by the finding of a spacious house of ‘Lengyel type’ with
adjacent courtyard (Fig. 4.3, 4a), placed inside the enclosed
space (Urban 1983–84; Lenneis et al. 1995:89–90, figs. 41,
42).
Traces of further enclosed sites of the MPP culture have
been recovered from Stillfried-Ziegelei and Stillfried-
Auhagen, Pottenbrunn (Lenneis et al. 1995:90). Finally,
from the end of the Neolithic to the Early Eneolithic
comes part of a ditched and palisaded enclosure of later
Lengyel date (Brodzany-Nitra and Ludanice) from Branč;
unfortunately it was not possible to recover the plan of this
enclosure (Vladár and Lichardus 1968:328, 330 fig. 6).
Exceptionally good evidence for the enclosure of Late
Neolithic settlement sites, with ‘rondel’ or ‘rondels’ placed
within the internal structures, comes above all from the
Upper Danube. The irregular double-ellipse enclosure from
Schmiedorf (Fig. 4.6, 11) is the best example of this (Trnka
1991:276, fig. 109); in its interior is a triple-ditched and a
single-ditched ‘rondel’. The situation is similar at Künzing-
Unternberg (Fig. 4.6, 10), where a dominant ‘rondel’ of
Lochenice-Unternberg type occupies a significant part of
the enclosed area, the extent of which, however, was hard
to estimate (Trnka 1991:270ff., fig. 107). Otherwise, the
very first excavated ‘rondel’ of all, at Kothingeichendorf
in Bavaria (Fig. 4.6, 7), was placed inside a complex
outer settlement enclosure (Petrasch 1990, fig. 21; Trnka
1991:269ff., fig. 106). Traces of surrounding enclosures
also come from Meisternthal (Trnka 1991:273ff., fig. 127),
and possibly from other places.
Enclosed settlements are known too from various areas
of Eneolithic east-central, central and west-central Europe.
A typical example of such an enclosure of the ‘Copper
Age’, with an elaborate internal construction, is Tiszalúc-
Sarkad in the Tisza valley in Hungary (Fig. 4.4, 7), which
Patay (1990) attributed to the Hunyadihalom group of the
Bodrogkeresztúr culture.
Varied large enclosures appear widely distributed in the
south German Michelsberg culture. Besides extensive
enclosed areas, usually of oval or angular shape (Bonn-
Venusberg, Mayen, Miel, Urmitz, Lich-Steinstrass; Fig.
4.4, 5, 9), ‘rondeloid’ forms can also appear though they are
not typical for this culture. The purpose of large enclosures
is a matter of debate, in which profane or economic
considerations predominate, not ritual ones (Eckert 1990).
The situation is similar too in the TRB area and ensuing
Eneolithic cultures in northern Europe. One may predict
the discovery of enclosed settlement sites in the Altheim
and Cham cultures (cf Fig. 4.4, 11, 12) of the south German
‘Late Neolithic’.
Hill-top settlements
The positioning of a site on elevated terrain, defended
partly by natural means, and sometimes suitably situated
from the strategic point of view, should not surprise us. The
Neolithic with the Lengyel culture and its constituent groups, for instance
the Moravian Painted Pottery or MPP (4700–3700 BC).
3
In Austria the Late Neolithic Painted Pottery culture is gathered under the
term ‘Mährisch-Österreichische Gruppe’ (MOG – lit. ‘Moravian/Austrian
Group’). Because this is an essentially identical cultural phenomenon to
the Moravian Painted Pottery culture (MPP), both complexes are referred
to jointly as the MPP/MOG.
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia

Figure 4.4. Eneolithic enclosures. 1. Bajč-Vlkanovo, Slovakia; 2. Chleby, Bohemia; 3. Hienheim, Bavaria; 4. Iclod,
Romania; 5. Urmitz, western Germany; 6. Ledce, Moravia; 7. Tizsaluc-Sarkad, northeast Hungary; 8. Makotřasy, Bohemia;
9. Mayen, western Germany; 10. Linzing-Osterhofen, western Germany; 11. Altheim, western Germany; 12. Galgenberg,
Bavaria. 1 after Točík, 2 after Křivánek, 3 after Modderman, 4 after Lazarovici, 5, 9 after Eckert, 6 after Kovárník, 7 after
Patay, 8 after Pleslová-Štíková, 10–12 after Becker.
51
Enclosing the Past

Figure 4.5. ‘Rondels’ of the Middle Danube. 1. Němčičky, Moravia; 2. Vedrovice II, Moravia; 3. Nitrianský Hrádok,
Slovakia; 4. Rašovice, Moravia; 5. Klačany, Slovakia; 6. Strögen, Lower Austria; 7. Běhařovice, Moravia; 8. Hornsburg
3, Lower Austria; 9. Těšetice-Kyjovice, Moravia; 10. Rosenburg, Lower Austria; 11. Bučany, Slovakia; 12. Cífer, Slovakia;
13. Golianovo, Slovakia; 14. Svodín 2, Slovakia. 1, 4, 7 after Kovárník, 2 after Humpolová & Ondruš, 3 after Točík, 5, 12,
13 after Neugebauer, 8, 10 after Trnka, 9 after Podborský, 11 after Bujna & Romsauer, 14 after Němejcová-Pavúková.

52
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
earliest farmers of central Europe, however, did not seek out
such spots; they did not suit their ‘extensive’ agricultural
way of life. The desire to defend oneself on an elevated
spot evidently connects with growing danger from enemy
attacks, motivated by the possibility of acquiring wealth
flowing from growing production, or from increasing craft
specialisation.
The earliest evidence for a hilltop settlement, in fact a
settlement with multiple fortifications (i.e. a true hillfort in
the proper sense of the word) is Falkenstein-‘Schanzboden’,
lying on a 420m high peak (‘Heidberg’) in Lower Austria,
not far from the southern Moravian border (Fig. 4.3, 6). The
ditches and earth ramparts are still partly visible on the site.
Excavation has revealed an extensive ditched and banked
fortification in the shape of a rounded polygon with an area
of 12ha, with an uncertain number of entrances (Neugebauer
and Neugebauer-Maresch 1978, 1981); the entire earthwork
was built by the MPP people around the junction of phases
Ia and Ib. Even though the ditches were cleaned out, this
early fortification did not last long. Some time in the course
of phase Ib of the MPP, the early fortifications were levelled
and in their eastern sector a smaller enclosure, oval in
shape, was erected. The interior of this later hillfort was not
occupied; according to the excavators, in this case the site
served as a refuge (‘Fluchtburg’).
So far the fort at Falkenstein has no analogies. The MPP
people only began to build hilltop settlements in the late
phase of the culture, as late as phase IIb, that is, already
in the Eneolithic. Twenty-three of them in total have been
listed in Moravia (Koštuřík 1983–84). Not all of them,
however, were fortified straightaway. So far, there is no
positive proof that these hilltop settlements were fortified;
the sites were for the most part still occupied even later
in the course of the Eneolithic when traces of the original
defences may have been destroyed. In Moravia there are in
all 59 hilltop settlements, in some cases fortified, and dating
to various phases of the Eneolithic, including the late phase
of the MPP (Rakovský 1990).
Hilltop settlements of this late or epi-Lengyel period have
also been found in Slovakia, Austria, Bohemia, and close to
Moravia in its northern neighbourhood. We are thus dealing
with a civilisation phenomenon that is connected with the
developmental process indicated at the start of this section.
Koštuřík declined to seek the reason for the creation of
Eneolithic hilltop settlements in outside influences coming
to the oikumene of the MPP people; he was perhaps correct
in seeing the cause of their construction in internal social
relations. His reasoning was that fortified settlements
served as supporting points needed for the prospection
for raw materials (suitable sorts of stone, graphite, etc.),
exchange transactions, the hunting of wild animals, and so
on; the reasons for their rise are then, according to him,
predominantly economic, brought about by the population
increase of the late Lengyel period (Koštuřík 1983–
84:101).
Internal circular enclosures – ‘rondels’
Between 1919 and 1924, the German archaeologist J.
Maurer discovered and partially excavated the complex
fortification system of the prehistoric settlement at
Kothingeichendorf on the river Isar in Bavaria; in the
northwestern part of the enclosed space he uncovered the
53
outline of a double circular ditch with an external diameter
of around 70m, with two internal palisades and broken at
the main compass points by simple entrances (Fig. 4.6, 7,
7a). In this way the very first of a long series of features was
discovered, for which the term ‘rondel’ was coined much
later.
The discovery at Kothingeichendorf was later forgotten
about. Only with the excavation of the MPP settlement at
Těšetice-Kyjovice in southern Moravia was a new era of
‘rondel’ archaeology’ initiated in Europe. In the course
of excavation between 1968 and 1978 a smaller simple
‘rondel’ with exterior palisaded enclosure (Fig. 4.5, 9) was
uncovered, investigated and evaluated in detail (Podborský
1988). Soon new discoveries of circular ditches were
made along the middle and upper Danube, in Bohemia
and in central and western Germany. A combination of
aerial and geophysical prospection meant that new circular
sites began to appear continually, their number currently
standing at some 115 (plus or minus). As well as simple
sites with a single ditch, ‘rondels’ with two, three, four,
possibly even five (Polgár-Csőszhalom) and most recently
(and questionably) six ditches (Žitavce) have appeared. As
far as size is concerned, one can distinguish ‘small’ sites (c.
40–70m diameter), ‘medium-sized’ (c. 80–120m), ‘large’ (c.
140–250m) and ‘giant’ sites (over 250m); they can also be
differentiated in terms of construction method into several
types.
The ‘rondel’ at Těšetice-Kyjovice was situated just
below a slight hill, to the southeast, and on a slope above
the Těšetička stream, in close contact with its mother site
that extended to the east. It was formed by a roughly
circular massive ditch (external diameter 63.7×58.6m), on
the south side its course somewhat flattened, and pointed
in profile; and by two internal palisades and an external
palisaded fence which closed off a slightly irregular oval
area measuring 109 by c. 128m. Four entrances led into the
interior, created simply by interrupting the ditch and internal
palisades, while the exterior palisade had entrances provided
by short internal corridors (Fig. 4.5, 9); the entrances faced
approximately towards the main points of the compass. In
the interior there were no substantial architectural elements;
only ten cultural pits were found (three of them possibly to
be labelled features of ritual character), three destroyed clay
ovens and several post-holes apparently placed at random.
On the northwest outer side, seven capacious grain storage
pits lay close up against the ditch; in one of them the
skeleton of a child with severed head lay on the bottom. The
space between the ditch and the outer palisade bore traces
of the existence of further constructions which could be
considered the dwellings of the ‘guardian’ (or ‘guardians’)
of the whole site.
The settlement horizon of the ‘rondel’ site at Těšetice-
Kyjovice dates to the late part (4600–4500 BC) of the
earliest phase (Ia) of the MPP (4700–4500 BC). This is the
time of the ‘great explosion’ of Neolithic ‘rondels’ along the
middle Danube.
Other, analogous, sites gradually came to light in Moravia
after this – both single and double-ditched ‘rondels’ –
Němčičky, Vedrovice, Rašovice, Běhařovice (Fig. 4.5, 1, 2,
4, 7), Bulhary and Křepice. Further sites were identified
by aerial prospection (Bálek 1985; Kovárník 1985, 1996,
1999), so that at present there are almost twenty Neolithic
‘rondels’ known in Moravia (Fig. 4.7); it has been proved
that ‘rondel’ architecture outlasted the time of the ‘great
Enclosing the Past

54
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
explosion’ in Moravia, and appears in the course of
subsequent development of the MPP (Bulhary) and at its
close (Dolní Němčí, Seloutky, Uherský Brod, Vlčnov)
(Podborský (ed.) 1999; Kovárník 1997, 2002a).
A far wider assortment of ‘rondels’ has been discovered in
Slovakia; in all, perhaps 26 circles have been identified, of
which thirteen are single (the best-known being Nitrianský
Hrádok (Fig. 4.5, 3), Ružindol-Borová 2, Svodín 1, etc), and
eleven are double, e.g. Bučany (Fig. 4.5, 11), Cífer 1 and 2
(Fig. 4.5, 12–13); the questionable six-ditched ‘rondel’ at
Žitavce is obviously only the result of an optical illusion,
the combination of an earlier smaller enclosure, probably
quadruple, and a larger later double enclosure. Systematic
fieldwork has only taken place at Bučany (Bujna and
Romsauer 1997) and Svodín (Němejcová-Pavúková 1995);
the majority of the remaining ‘rondels’ were discovered
by aerial photography (Kuzma 1997; Kuzma and Tirpák
2001a, 2001b, 2001c, 2003), confirmed by geophysics, and
at most trial-trenched.
Thanks to systematic aerial prospection, the largest
concentration of Neolithic ‘rondels’ so far is attested in
Lower Austria; around forty circular sites are known there
today, of which eleven are single-ditched. e.g. Rosenburg
(Fig. 4.5, 10), 21 double, e.g. Friebritz, Kamegg, Puch,
Strögen (Fig. 4.5, 6), and seven triple, e.g. Hornsburg (Fig.
4.5, 10), Immendorf, Wetzdorf, etc. Great care has been
devoted to the investigation of ‘rondels’ in Austria, both on
the excavation side (Frauenhofen, Friebritz, Kamegg, etc)
and in terms of evaluation (Trnka 1991).
The situation in the Carpathian Basin is completely
specific to it. Two ‘rondels’ come from western Hungary
(Pannonia), from the early part of the Lengyel or the
proto-Lengyel phase: a single-ditched site at Becsehely
(Kalicz 1983–84:273, pl. 1.2, 2.1, 4), and a double at Sé
(Károlyi 1983–84). N. Kalicz presumes the existence of
a ‘rondel’ on the well-known Lengyel settlement at Aszòd
(1985:97). Further circles (Jánoshida-Portelek, the Mecsek
hills, Vokány) have been discovered by aerial photography
(Bewley, Braasch and Palmer 1996; Kovárník 2002a) but
their detailed measurements have so far not been published.
From the Tisza valley comes a single or double circle from
Apony, though it is not known whether it really is a ‘rondel’
or a Tiszapolgár culture mound (Raczky 1995). The alleged
five-ditched ‘rondel’ from Polgár-Csőszhalom, so far only
published in summary form (Raczky et al. 2002), presents
problems. The existence of Neolithic circular enclosures
in the northern part of the Balkans, perhaps in less classic
form, is very probable; this is confirmed by the discovery of
a single-ditched ‘rondel’ with two internal and one external
palisade at Iclod in Romania (Fig. 4.4, 4) (Lazarovici
1991).
In connection with the early Lengyel circles at Becsehely
and Sé we touch on the problem of the place and time of
origin of circular enclosures. Given the appearance of an
enclosed site of the late LBK with a ditch of broad pointed
shape at Becsehely in Pannonia, the broad oval enclosed
site of the SBK at Frauenhofen in Lower Austria (Lenneis
1977), and the rondeloid sites of the early phase of Lengyel
Figure 4.6 (opposite). ‘Rondels’ of west-central Europe. 1. Vieht, Bavaria; 2. Lochenice, Bohemia; 3. Eythra, central
Germany; 4. Vochov, Bohemia; 5. Quenstedt, central Germany; 6. Bylany, Bohemia; 7. Kothingeichendorf, Bavaria; 8.
Goseck, central Germany; 9. Kyhna, central Germany; 10. Künzing-Unternberg, Bavaria; 11. Schmiedorf, Bavaria. 1,
10, 11 after Trnka, 2 after Buchvaldek, 3 after Stäuble, 4 after Pavlů, 5 after Schröter, 6 after Pavlů et al., 7 after Petrasch,
8 after Fröhlich, 9 after Braasch.
55
at Becsehely, Sé, Vedrovice III, and other early sites (Svodín
I, Friebritz, etc), a range of authors are persuaded of an origin
for ‘rondels’ on the middle Danube (survey in Kovárník
1997:9ff, 2002a). A multi-centre origin is however not
excluded, especially as far as late enclosures of the LBK
Langweiler type is concerned (Petrasch 1990:419ff.).
One can seek forerunners for classic circular ditched
‘rondels’ already at the end of the Early and in the Middle
Neolithic, above all on the middle Danube, that is on the
territory of present-day southern Slovakia, across Pannonia
and Lower Austria (north of the Danube) into southern
Moravia. The main period of appearance of genuine ‘rondels’
falls in this area into the earliest phase of the Lengyel culture
(Lengyel I – MPP Ia), as already shown above in the case of
the Těšetice-Kyjovice site, that is the period between 4700
and 4500 BC. We intentionally designate this chunk of
time the period of the ‘great explosion’ of classic Neolithic
‘rondels’ with pointed-base ditches.
From the middle Danube the construction of ‘rondels’
expanded on the one hand westwards to the Upper Danube
and on to southern and southwestern Germany, on the other
northwestwards to Bohemia and central Germany; both
streams could have met on the Rhine.
The single-ditched site at Ölkam and the double ‘rondel’ at
Gemering near Linz in Upper Austria illustrate the direction
of spread to the west (Trnka 1991; Neubauer, Melichar
and Eder-Hinterleitner 1996). From Lower Bavaria nine
‘rondels’ are so far known: two single, five double and three
triple (Fig. 4.6, 1, 7, 10, 11); their concentration south of
the Danube, in the loess zone between the lower course of
the rivers Inn and Isar (Fig. 4.8) is the result of intensive
occupation by people of the Oberlauterbach culture, and the
heightened interest in the problem (Christlein and Braasch
1982; Petrasch 1990; Becker 1990, 1996a; Trnka 1991).
A speciality of the Lower Bavarian sites is the integration
of ‘rondels’, sometimes too of square structures, into
the overall enclosed area (Kothingeichendorf, Künzing-
Unternberg, Schmiedorf).
From Bavaria ‘rondels’ got to Franconia (Ippesheim,
Hopferstad-Ochsenfurt) and on to the north to North
Rhine-Westphalia, where a single circle with at least eight
interruptions to the surrounding ditch and traces of two
posts inside has long been known at Bochum-Harpen,
the site hidden by a settlement of the early phase (Planig-
Friedberg) of the Rössen culture (Lüning 1983–84:17, Pl.
4). On the middle and lower Rhine this western stream
of ‘rondel’ ideology’ evidently met with that arriving here
from central Germany; together they then proceeded to
present-day Belgium and Holland (the traditionally rich
settlement of Limburg and Flanders), where in recent years
a “large number of circles” has been discovered through
aerial prospection, their purpose and age, however, not
yet determined. The idea of constructing circular sacred
architectures could theoretically have expanded further to
France and the British Isles; there, of course, it could likewise
have penetrated along Atlantic shores from an imaginary
centre of megalithic monuments in the Mediterranean.
The expansion of ‘rondels’ to the northwest can be seen
 Enclosing the Past

56
Figure 4.7. Distribution of ‘rondels’ in Moravia.
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
first in east Bohemia (Holohlavy I and II, Lochenice),
central Bohemia (Bylany, Krpy, Prague-Vinoř, Tuchoraz)
and most recently in north Bohemia (Benátky nad Jizerou,
Velíš, Vitiněves, etc.), in the area of the SBK late phase
(IVa) (Pavlů 1982, 1983–84, 1986; Gojda 2000; Křivánek
2001:123; Ulrychová 2001). The site at Vochov in western
Bohemia (Fig. 6.4, 4) should be connected rather with the
wave coming to the west from the Danube area. Altogether,
thirteen to fourteen ‘rondels’ of the period of the ‘great
explosion’ are documented on the territory of present-
day Bohemia, among them one triple (Bylany 4/2), seven
or eight double (Bylany 4/1, Dolní Beřkovice, Holohlavy
I, Lochenice, Prague-Vinoř, Vochov), and five single
(Holohlavy II, Straškov, Velíš, etc.).
The stream of rondel-building swept across Bohemia
and on to the territory of the Stichbandkeramik in Saxony,
Saxony-Anhalt and to some extent in Brandenburg
(Oderbruch). In this connection we may note that ‘rondel’
architecture has not so far been securely identified in the
territory between the Oder and the Vistula. The roughly
circular enclosure or fortification of the Neolithic Lubelsko-
Wolynia culture settlement at Bronocice (Kruk-Milisauskas
1985), usually seen as connected with Neolithic ‘rondels’
(Kruk-Milisauskas 1999:72–77), actually belongs within
the category of perimeter enclosures.
In Saxony, a simple ‘rondel’ with two identified entrances
with wing-like corridors at Dresden-Nickern 1 (Kurz
1994, fig. 20) is worthy of mention; in Saxony-Anhalt, the
quadruple circular feature (Fig. 4.6, 9) photographed from
the air at Kyhna (Mikschofsky 1999) is also remarkable,
as are the well-documented triple ‘rondel’ from Eythra-
Zwenkau (Fig. 4.6, 3) (Stäuble 1999:161–162, 179, fig.
12), and the simple ‘rondel’ with two internal palisades and
three entrances with external winged corridors at Goseck
(Fig. 4.6, 8) (Braasch 1993:35; Fröhlich, (ed.) 1997:29, fig.
17). The ‘emporial’, quintuple palisade ‘rondel’ with three
entrances (Fig. 4.6, 5a, 5b) at Quenstedt (Behrens 1981) is
unique. From the Oderbruch region two not particularly well
dated circular sites are known (Quappendorf and Platkow:
Braasch 1995:121, fig. 13). In all, at least ten localities
with ‘rondels’ are known from central Germany, but their
number is growing rapidly as aerial prospection becomes
more widespread.
Ideas about the origin of ‘rondel’ architecture on the
middle Danube and its spread in both basic directions
further west is also supported, albeit in preliminary form,
by the chronological evidence. The period of the ‘great
explosion’ of ‘rondels’ seems not to have extended beyond
the first developmental phase of the Lengyel culture
(MPP/MOG Ia), which roughly matches phase IV of the
Stichbandkeramik in Bohemia and central Germany, and the
early phase of the Oberlauterbach culture along the upper
Danube, but there are indications of a certain temporal shift
in the dating of ‘rondels’ to the west and northwest of their
cradle area. These are imports of MPP/MOG phase Ib
(!) vessels, found in the Stichbandkeramik area (Kazdová
2001:47); in this case, the discovery of such pottery in
close proximity to the ‘rondel’ at Künzing-Unternberg
(Petrasch 1990:427, 1994:214) is of particular significance,
while the Lengyel vessel in the ‘rondel’ at Dresden-Nickern
1 (Kurz 1994, fig. 20) is evidence of only loose contacts
between the two cultures. The direction of expansion of the
‘rondel’ ideology is also illustrated by the importation of
Oberlauterbach culture pottery in the ‘rondel’ at Ippesheim
57
in Middle Franconia, Germany (Schier 1999:20, fig. 9).
The problem of the longevity of the true function of
‘rondels’ is also linked to the period in which they arose.
Leaving aside ditches cut into rock (Běhařovice, Křepice,
Gaudendorf), the wood and earth sites (‘woodhenges’) could
not long resist natural forces (rain, snow, ditch erosion); the
ditches quickly filled up, and had to be regularly cleaned
or renewed. The re-utilisation of ditches, i.e. digging new
ditches or remodelling old ones, has been documented at a
long list of sites, including Vedrovice II (Fig. 4.1, B:2) and III,
Mašovice, Seloutky, Svodín, Mühlbach am Mannhartsberg,
Künzing-Unternberg,etc. Neugebauer(1986a:191,1986b:78)
found in the case of the great ‘rondel’ at Friebritz up to six
renewals of the inner ditch, from which he judged that the
site had been in use for a considerable length of time – from
3–7 generations. By contrast, Podborský (1988:250) has
suggested the shorter-term use of ‘rondels’ over periods of
1 or at most 2 generations, i.e. 25–30 years. The existence
of functioning ‘rondels’ was also bound up with the specific
site histories, i.e. the longevity of the parent settlements.
A short period of use is also suggested by the relatively
frequent building (Vedrovice III and II) or rebuilding
(Svodín 1 and 2, Cífer, Žitavce) of ‘rondels’ on the same
place; specific variants of ‘rondel’ rebuilding have been
documented at Žlkovce (see Fig. 4.10) with seven rebuilds
of a palisade rondeloid (Pavúk 1990, 1991:350), and at
Künzing-Unternberg, where, after the disappearance of
the classic ‘rondel’, a palisade enclosure was established
(Petrasch 1990:376). The dynamic rhythm of life in the
period of the ‘great explosion’ of ‘rondels’ is attested by
the fact that a series of ‘rondels’ remained unfinished. This
was pointed out by Trnka (1997) in the cases of several
features in Lower Austria (at Puch-Kleedorf, Rosenburg,
Kamegg and elsewhere). In Moravia there is an unfinished
site at Běhařovice (Fig. 4.5, 7) that was designed to be
double, but where the greater part of the outer ditch was
left incomplete, while other clear examples are to be found
in the circle at Rašovice and the newly-identified feature at
Velatice (Kovárník 2000). Evidence for unfinished ‘rondel’
construction in Slovakia comes from Ružindol-Borová
(Němejcová-Pavúková 1997), and in Bohemia from Bylany
4 (Pavlů, Rulf and Zápotocká 1995), etc.
Against the background of a now quite large number of
Neolithic ‘rondels’, it is possible to define a field of ‘rondel’
archaeology’, which also takes into account the historical
significance of these sites. First of all, their relationship to
contemporary settlements will be considered.
In Europe, ‘rondels’ may appear as part of the perimeter
enclosure of a related settlement, but far more commonly
‘rondels’ are located within settlements, or in the vicinity
of unenclosed settlements; the existence of solitary
‘woodhenges’ is problematic. Originally it appeared that the
centre of enclosed settlements with incorporated ‘rondels’
was Bavaria (Fig. 4.6, 7, 10, 11), but examples are now known
from Slovakia (Vel’ký Cetín), Moravia (Hluboké Mašůvky,
Seloutky) and Bohemia (Slavhostice), and evidently from
central Germany as well. The perimeter enclosure of
settlements was evidently not a matter of regional preference,
but the effect of large-scale archaeological excavation.
Thus far cases in which the actual ditched ‘rondel’ is
surrounded by a circular outer enclosure (palisade or ditch)
– increasing its area and at the same time separating it
from the parent settlement – are rare. There are records of
two such instances of ‘doubled’ ‘rondel’ area: Těšetice-
 Enclosing the Past

58
Figure 4.8 Distribution of ‘rondels’ in the loess zone between the lower course of the rivers Tisza and Rhine. 1: classical
ditch-rondels; 2: palisaded rondels (Quenstedt, Central Germany; Zlkovce, Slovakia; Inden, Bavaria); rondeloid structures
from the border regions of Central Europe.
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
Kyjovice in South Moravia (Fig. 4.5, 9) and Bylany 4/1
in Central Bohemia (Fig. 4.6, 6). The features identified
between the ditch and outer palisade at Těšetice-Kyjovice
(cf. above) reflect in various ways the special significance
of this intermediate space.
In general terms, one may pose the question of the
formal typology of ‘rondels’. Classification by shape
and construction is more significant than that by size or
number of ditches (cf. above). As in the case of the Early
Neolithic enclosures, however, there are no absolutes in
the typology of the Later Neolithic ‘rondels’. Podborský
has proposed that ‘rondels’ should be classified into three
types: Kothingeichendorf-Těšetice (sites with four simple
entrances – Fig. 4.5, 1–6, 9, 10, Fig.4.6, 7); Bučany-Svodín
(more imposing sites with wing-like corridor entrances
– Fig. 4.5, 11, 14; Fig. 4.6, 6,8) and Lochenice-Unternberg
(two ditches which always conjoin at the entrance to the
site – Fig.4.6, 2, 10) (Podborský 1988:243ff; Podborský
(ed.), 1999:264, fig. 4). This classification has provoked a
discussion in which both assenting and dissenting voices
are to be heard. The basic ‘rondel’ forms described are
self-evident, but new discoveries have shown numerous
instances of the combination of different structural elements
of the first two ‘rondel’ types in particular (Fig.4.5, 5, 8, 12;
Fig. 4.6, 11); moreover it has been possible to designate an
early variant – the Langweiler-Vedrovice III type rondeloid
(Fig. 4.1, A:III) – and a new hybrid, the Golianovo type (Fig.
4.6, 13), has appeared, while one should also take palisaded
sites into consideration.
The proposed classification is geographically significant,
but certainly not to be regarded as absolute. The simple
Kothingeichendorf-Těšetice type is distributed in large
numbers along the middle Danube (which accords with
assumptions about its antiquity), but further than this, it
occurs across the whole of ‘rondel’ Europe’. The imposing
sites with wing-like corridor entrances are conspicuous in
the central-eastern part of Europe, while by contrast double-
ditched sites with linked ditches are to be found in its central-
western part. Individual entrance corridors of the Bučany-
Svodín type, whether interior or exterior, appear in various
combinations across the whole of the ‘rondel’ world. Even
in the South Moravian/Lower Austrian interface zone, there
was space for the common occurrence of ‘rondels’ of all
three basic types. Local inventions on the part of designers
and builders also manifested themselves in the realisation of
specific ‘rondel’ constructions.
At the same time, the chronological significance of this
classification cannot be completely demonstrated. There is
a somewhat hypothetical assumption of a development from
small, simple ‘rondels’ to large central sites like those at
Svodín 2, Friebritz 2 etc., and from these to the later palisaded
‘rondels’, but so far there is no direct confirmation of this
assumption. Development from small simple circles to large
imposing ones is attested by, for example, the rebuilding at
Svodín (Němejcová-Pavúková 1995), or by the time gap
between pairs of opposing ‘rondels’ at, for example, Friebritz
1 & 2 or Glaubendorf 1 & 2 (Trnka 1991:17ff and 47ff), but
a simple ‘rondel’ cannot automatically be assumed to have
been older than its opposing twin or triplet: the reciprocal
‘binary opposites’ may express a relationship other than
chronological. On the other hand, an unmistakable temporal
succession is expressed by the building of the palisade
‘henge’ after the disappearance of the classic ‘rondel’ at
Künzing-Unternberg (Petrasch 1990:376, 382ff). The later
59
date of palisaded ‘rondels’ is also confirmed by the many
times remodelled site at Žlkovce in Slovakia (Fig. 4.10),
unambiguously dated to phase II of the Lengyel culture, i.e.
to the MPP/MOG Ib) (Pavúk 1992).
The typological classification of ‘rondels’ stems from
their main structural elements. These are again ditches,
palisades, sometimes banks or earthworks, and entrances,
sometimes with gates.
The ditches of Late Neolithic ‘rondels’ generally show a
regular, funnel-like profile with pointed base (Spitzgraben).
At the surface they attain widths of 6–8 m and depths of up
to 5m, although there are of course less massive ditches as
well. In the great majority of cases these could not have
been water-filled moats, and their significance may thus best
be expressed as delimiting, symbolical, or magical. The
number of surrounding ditches is important not only from
the point of view of classification, but it is also an expression
of the monumentality of the rondel. ‘rondel’ monumentality
then relates directly to the importance of the settlement with
which it is connected.
The impressive triple-ditched sites known from Lower
Austria, Bavaria, Bohemia and central Germany have a new
parallel in the huge feature from Golianovo in Slovakia (Fig.
4.5:13), the monumentality of which cannot be doubted.
The only known quadruple ‘rondel’ known to date (Kyhna
I) still requires archaeological verification, as – like a similar
feature at Cífer in Slovakia – it may be a combination of
two, progressively built components, e.g. two double circles.
Likewise, a site potentially with six ditches at Žitavce in
Slovakia (Kuzma & Tirpák 2003:36–37, fig. 10:1–3) was
apparently built in multiple construction phases. Leaving
aside a quintuple palisaded site from Quenstedt in central
Germany, no similar ditched ‘rondel’ is yet known; the
supposedly quintuple ring at Polgár-Csőszhalom in the
Hungarian Tisza valley (Raczky et al. 2002) is not yet
securely classifiable.
The purpose of the inner palisade fences is still a subject of
debate. Pairs of inner palisades appear regularly, but larger
numbers are not unusual. Palisades might have functioned
as the revetment for earth ramparts (Němejcová-Pavúková
1986:180), but a number of field observations speak against
this interpretation, in particular the interruption of palisade
foundation slots even outside the entrances to ‘rondels’, or
the existence of features between the two palisades. The
significance of the posts placed at intervals in the palisade
foundation slots, as some kind of element in a calendar
in material form (analogous to the stones of the English
megalithic henges or the Transylvanian ‘Dacian calendars’),
remains speculative.
Many opinions have already been published on the
existence or non-existence of earthen banks of ‘rondels’.
The masses of earth obtained by digging the large pointed-
base ditches must have been used somehow. The simplest
supposition – that a rampart was raised on the inner or outer
side of the ditch – is generally unsupported by evidence
from archaeologically investigated contexts. At Těšetice-
Kyjovice, for example, there could not have been a bank
on either the inner or the outer side of the ditch (Podborský
1988:254ff). In such situations the use of the earth to create
‘ramparts’ between inner palisades seems a rational solution,
but cannot be applied generally. The use of high-quality
loess for building or production purposes, and the scattering
of unwanted earth around about, also suggest themselves,
among other explanations.
Enclosing the Past
Figure 4.9. Example of multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement: Inden 1, western Germany, of the Rössen culture, after
Lüning.
The classic Neolithic ‘rondels’ are usually characterised as
having had four entrances. As a rule the various entrances
to ‘rondel’ interiors faced – with certain variations – to the
major compass points (Podborský 1988:268ff). This fact has
been of interest to a number of palaeoastronomers (Horský
1986; Ministr in Podborský (ed.) 1999; Rajchl in Podborský
(ed.) 1999; Karlovský & Pavúk 2002). There were also,
however, sites with only two (Alekšince, Dolné Trhovište,
Ružindol 2-Borová; Hornsburg, Puch, Rosenburg, Schletz,
Strögen; Gneiding-Oberpöring, Meisternthal-Landau,
Schmiedorf-Osterhofen 2; Holohlavy) or three (Vel’ký
Cetín, Friebritz (?), Steinabrunn, Ramsdorf-Wallerfing,
Goseck, Quenstedt) entrances, and, by contrast, circles with
more than four. These anomalies may be explicable either
from the purely technical point of view (the structures are
unfinished), or as a result of the intention of the builders. The
relatively frequent east-west orientation has been explained
by reference to the rising and the setting of the sun, and thus
as a reflection of the moving of the solar disc in the heavens
(Kovárník 2002a); the northeastern orientations of several
paired entrances (e.g. Ružindol 2-Borová) must therefore be
the exceptions that prove the rule.
It is to ‘rondel’ entrances, too, that the problem of the
appearance of gates relates. In the majority of cases
entrance passages were simple and freely traversed, even
where there were wing-like corridors. Indicators of more
complex structures, however, also appear, e.g. at the
perimeter enclosure of the settlement at Wetzleinsdorf
60
(Fig. 4.3:4), or in the southern and western entrances to the
‘rondel’ at Těšetice-Kyjovice (Fig. 4.5, 9), where simple
wooden gates may be presumed. Fortified entrances were
assumed in the case of the settlement at Hluboké Mašůvky
(Fig. 4.3, 5a, 5b); an analogy to this more complex entrance
arrangement may be found in the construction of the gates
of earthworks of the Michelsberg culture at Urmitz or Miel
(Eckert 1990:402–403).
Entrance orientation leads to a consideration of the
relationship of ‘rondels’ to observations of heavenly bodies,
i.e. to palaeoastronomy. This area has been received the
most attention in the Czech Republic from Z. Ministr
(Podborský (ed.) 1999:240–241); he asserts that the
‘rondel’ builders recognised a ‘Neolithic equinox’ that was
only slightly different from the astronomical equinox, and
that this knowledge was used in daily practice. According
to Ministr, the feature at Těšetice-Kyjovice was deliberately
situated in the landscape on a slope with a broad view
over (or ‘window’ onto) the Dyje/Svratka valley, with
its dominant landmark, the Pavlov hills. The sun rose at
a declination of 3° 18´ at a latitude of 48.9° in the spring
and autumn above the peak of Děvín (550m a.s.l.) in the
Pavlov hills, which could be observed from the rondel. In
the half-year cycle the spring equinox would thus have been
on March 12th, and therefore potentially the beginning of
spring agricultural labour.
The importance of this date in the life of ancient farmers
can be observed across a broad territory from the Persian
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia

Figure 4.10. Multiple enclosure of a Neolithic settlement of the Lengyel culture: Žlkovce, Slovakia, after Pavúk.

61
Enclosing the Past
Gulf to west-central Europe, and continues into the modern
period. From the spring equinox (March 21st) to the winter
solstice (December 21st) was an interval of 9 months, the
period necessary for human gestation. This fact finds its
expression even in the Bible (the conception of Christ in
the period around the spring equinox – the Christian Easter
– and his birth around the winter solstice – the Christian
Christmas). For Neolithic farmers these dates were of
decisive importance: the winter solstice was the harbinger
of spring and the end of winter hardship, while the spring
equinox meant a time to plough and sow new crops. The
summer solstice, like the autumn equinox, was of lesser
importance.
For a functional interpretation of ‘rondels’ a knowledge of
their internal structures in particular is extremely important.
In this respect, research is still in its infancy. In only a few
cases has open-area excavation shown that the interiors of
‘rondels’ contained no significant structures (cf. above, the
situation at Těšetice-Kyjovice). There is, however, also
evidence for the existence of standing post-built structures
within ‘rondels’ at Bučany, Nitrianský Hrádok and Bulhary;
one to two houses apparently stood within the triple ‘rondel’
of the Stichbandkeramik people at Eythra-Zwenkau. The
case of the repeated building within the periodically
renewed palisade rondeloid of Lengyel Phase II at Žlkovce
(Fig. 4.10) is unique, with a long house being restored in
each building phase, perhaps the seat of a leading figure
in the settlement, or a socio-cultic feature (Pavúk 1990,
1992:3–9). Entirely in the realms of theory, it is possible
to presume that ‘communal houses’ of similar kind were
gradually ‘institutionalised’ into sanctuaries, and ultimately
into true temples or palaces.
Other traces of inner structures within ‘rondels’ are of
little explanatory value, with the exception of a few cultural
pits, some of which may be regarded as ‘sacrificial’ or more
generally as cultic. The absence of larger structural features
within ‘rondels’ would have permitted the use of the space
for gatherings of the local population on the occasion of
cyclical ritual ceremonies and social events.
This brings us to the last and most weighty problem of
‘rondel’ archaeology: the interpretation of the meaning
and function of ‘rondels’. With increasing knowledge
the initially sceptical stance (Trnka 1991:318) has been
overcome. It can clearly be shown that these unique
structures, complex in terms of design and construction, play
an important role in the spiritual life of early Europeans.
Field information relating to ‘rondels’ is still insufficient
because of its fragmentary nature. The documentation of
aerial and magnetometric surveys, despite its significant
informative potential, simply cannot replace the results of
large-scale excavations at ‘rondel’ sites, of which there have
as yet been very few. In the circumstances, all that can be
done is to form basic models of possible interpretations.
A series of authors, including P. J. R. Modderman (1983–
1984), J. Makkay (1986), V. Podborský (1988) and others,
formulated the main areas that ‘rondel’ excavation should
address as early as quarter of a century ago. These should
include:
1. ascertaining the relationship of the ‘rondel’ to its parent
settlement
2. ascertaining the character of structures within the
rondel
3. a precise classification of the character of the enclosure/
fortification of the ‘rondel’ (size and shape of ditch,
62
character of palisades, existence of earthworks/ramparts
if any and their siting inside or outside the ditch etc.)
4. recovering evidence of special activities, e.g. sacral,
social or astronomical, within the rondel
5. establishing the geographical and astronomical
orientation of the rondel.
It has been possible to follow up or satisfy many of these
requirements, at least in part. A theoretical model of a
Neolithic settlement area has been formulated, comprising
settlement, ‘rondel’ and cemetery (Pavlů, Rulf & Zápotocká
1995), and unmissable indications of the military or
defensive significance of ‘rondels’ have also been discovered
(Němejcová-Pavúková 1986; 1995; 1997). Every possible
analogy has been considered, from the classic British henge
monuments (Podborský 1988:224ff.; 1991), to the so-called
‘Dacian calendars’ (Podborský 1991; 2001; Bouzek 2001).
J. Kovárník (1997; 2002a) has attempted to interpret the
importance of ‘rondels’ in the broadest historical context.
Since ‘rondel’ archaeology has come into being, the
significance of circular ditches has in one way or another,
speculatively or with factual arguments, been considered by a
range of scholars. It is not necessary to recapitulate all of these
opinions in detail here; there have been ideas of fortresses,
places of assembly, sacral precincts, sanctuaries, seignorial
residences, central places and so on. These are reflected in
the terminology, too: circular structures are described as
‘round sanctuaries’, ‘sacred circles’, ‘solar temples’, ‘socio-
cultic areas’, ‘wood and earth rotundas’ and so on; in the
German literature the general term Kreisgrabenanlagen is
used, but the very specific Dorfkirche is also used. All of
these opinions may be classified and summarised as being
reflections of several basic interpretational models.
1. The economic model is founded in particular on the
presence of grain silos at several ‘rondels’ (Těšetice-
Kyjovice, Troskotovice, Künzing-Unternberg), and for
example the notable discovery that at the site of the future
Late Neolithic ‘rondel’ at Bylany – as if to mark out a site
with a special function – there was already a concentration
of grain storage pits in the Early Neolithic (Rulf 1992:11).
This shows that the concentration and use of grain storage
occurred within the context of the community. The large
numbers of stone querns commonly found in the vicinity
of ‘rondels’ or in the fills of their ditches (in Moravia e.g.
at Těšetice-Kyjovice, Vedrovice, Troskotovice, Rašovice),
while not an unambiguous indication of the sacral grinding of
grain (Makkay 1978), must reflect something exceptional.
The most recent information shows several ‘rondels’ (e.g.
Svodín, Künzing-Unternberg) to have been sites of possible
exchange or perhaps the distribution of stone raw materials
or silicites (Kazcanowska 1985), or even the supporting
nodes of supra-regional trade as a whole. The suggestion that
‘rondels’ might have been some kind of kraal – enclosures
for cattle, analogous to the ‘Erdwerke’ of the southern and
western German Eneolithic – was disposed of relatively
quickly; this was a view which formed in a period when the
difference between enclosed settlements and true ‘rondels’
had yet to be clarified.
2. The social model stems from the presumption that
settlements with ‘rondels’ acquired the character of ‘central
places’ and gained importance as higher, administrative/
organisational units. The grouping of surrounding
(‘daughter’?) units into a unified administrative and cultic
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
framework laid the foundations for future supra-familial
organisational structures (Podborský 1976:139ff). For
this reason they became places of assembly with debating
and control functions, as well as territorial/administrative
functions and territorial delimitation functions (Petrasch
1990:380). According to J. Pavúk (1990:140), the ‘rondels’
of large settlements fulfilled all the criteria of the true
acropoleis of Antiquity. Being imposing, ‘rondels’ were also
demonstrations of the strength and power of their creators
(Kazdová and Weber 1990:163, 167), which may have
played a significant role in the spread of the Late Neolithic
innovations, or specifically the Lengyel culture with painted
pottery.
3. The military (defensive) model was created immediately
after the discovery of the first central European circles.
This model was made more enticing by the concept of the
modern military strategy of ‘circular defence’. It was soon
abandoned under the influence of counter-arguments (the
relatively small internal space of the ‘rondels’, the many
entrances, the easily fired wooden structures), and because
of the quickly adopted cultic interpretation of ‘rondels’. A
contribution to its abandonment was also made by the still
surviving view of the Neolithic as a conflict-free ‘Golden
Age’ of humanity (Brentjes 1973), in which military clashes
did not occur at all. Later field excavations, however, soon
provided evidence of military attacks – just as with Early
Neolithic enclosures (Ružindol I-Borová: Němejcová-
Pavúková 1997). It may be presumed that in times of
danger, the area defined by a massive ditch – whether or
not originally constructed for a different purpose – may, or
must, have taken on the role of refuge.
4. The astronomical model was brought into consideration
very quickly, undoubtedly under the influence of
interpretations of western European cromlechs, and in
particular of Stonehenge. The explanation of this and
other megalithic monuments as ‘sun temples’, ‘prehistoric
astronomical observatories’ etc. offered the straightforward
and at first sight quite convincing opportunity for analogous
interpretation of the Continental ‘woodhenges’. The huge
feature at Avebury contributed in this regard, as perhaps did
other four-entrance monuments such as Mount Pleasant or
Marden (Wainwright 1989), where the cruciform entrance
pattern is identical to the concept behind the Central
European ‘rondels’. The original, simple view, that the
entrances to ‘rondels’ were constructed in such a way
that at key dates during the year (equinoxes or solstices)
they were lit by the sun’s rays, was gradually replaced by
more complex considerations, taking into account not only
the structural elements of the ‘rondels’ (e.g. the distances
between the inner palisades or clusters of post-holes in the
interior), but also particularly conspicuous landmarks in the
vicinity of the ‘rondels’ that might have served as natural
markers for determining the seasons (Ministr, in Podborský
(ed.) 1999). Thus far one can only speculate about a direct
calendrical function for ‘rondels’, with palisade posts
as calendar elements of a sort, but the situation of the
Early Bronze Age site at Troskotovice in South Moravia
(Kovárník, in Podborský (ed) 1999:140ff., fig. 3) provides a
realistic foundation for such speculation.
5. The sacral model has gradually attracted the greatest
number of proponents – and rightly so, since it is supported
63
by a range of field evidence including the presence of
ritual pits within (Těšetice-Kyjovice, Füzesabony) or in the
immediate vicinity of the rondel, the existence of incomplete
or damaged human skeletons (sacrifices?), buildings with
animal sacrifices, large numbers of human and animal
(perhaps also deliberately broken or ‘sacrificed’) figurines
and other cult items, particularly fine (painted) pottery,
indications of the ritual grinding of flour, and so on. Taken
as a whole, the presumed sacral function of ‘rondels’ is
difficult to dispose of completely. Human religious activity
need not leave archaeological evidence of all its acts, and
the diversity of ritual ceremonies that were perhaps played
out in these structures must therefore remain a subject for a
combination of intuition and ingenuity.
A comprehensive consideration of life in prehistory,
however, leads one to rule out all of the proposed models
when taken in isolation. It is almost certain that these
separate functions merged, interacted and coalesced in these
‘woodhenges’, while in cases of acute need (e.g. in the face
of attack by an enemy) they might for a while have been
dominated by just a single function (defence).
The socio-cultic function of ‘rondels’ may be regarded as
the standard. They fulfilled a combined social (assembly,
management, administration, distribution), sacral (fertility,
regeneration, prayer and other ritual) and apparently also
calendrical (informative) role (Podborský 197:137ff;
1988:275ff; 1999:274ff; Kovárník 1997; 2002a). J.
Makkay (1986, 1990, 2001) expressed the same idea,
regarding them as social centres and the venue for social
activities: assemblies and courts, cult ceremonies linked to
sacrifice, dance, religious song, and perhaps even sporting
contests. Human and animal remains might in his view be
linked to building sacrifices made during the construction of
these ‘sanctuaries’. It is clear that any activities linked to
the ‘operation’ of ‘rondels’ were ‘shielded’ under the cloak
of religion.
After the initial boom in ‘rondel’ building at the beginning
of the central European Late Neolithic, in the Lengyel I–
MPP/MOG Ia phase, i.e. around 4700–4500 BC, there was
a transitional retreat in ‘rondel’ ideology. Evidence for or
traces of ‘circles’ from later in the Late and Final Neolithic
(in Moravia at Bulhary, Brno-Líšeň and Seloutky, in
Slovakia at Žlkovce) justify the presumption of continuity
in the appearance of such ‘woodhenges’ into the Eneolithic
and later times. The technical parameters of post-
Neolithic ‘rondels’ naturally vary: their basic fortification
elements consist of either shallow ditches with flat bases
(Trockgraben), or – sometimes – somewhat symbolic
ditches (Muldengraben), or mere palisades. In any event,
the progress of development can be traced in the ‘lightening’
of the originally massive ditches, and a trend towards the
mere symbolisation of the shrinking enclosed areas.
In central Europe the Eneolithic ‘rondel’ has been
documented in a settlement of the Boleráz phase of the
Baden culture at Bajč-Vlkanovo in Slovakia (Fig. 4.4:1;
Točík 1987). Unique evidence of a double ring with a
central sacrificial pit has come from Füzesabony in northern
Hungary, probably dating to the epi-Lengyel Ludanice
group rather than to the classic Bodrogkeresztúr culture
(Kállay 1990, fig. 2). The dating of a double ‘rondel’ at
Grossburgstall in Lower Austria to the Late Eneolithic
Mödling-Zöbing-Jevišovice culture (Maurer 1982:89)
remains hypothetical. A larger, roughly circular area with
Enclosing the Past
numerous narrow entrances (Fig. 4.4:2) has recently been
identified at the Eneolithic settlement of Chleby in Bohemia
(Křivánek 2001:123, fig. 7).
In central Europe indications of the existence of a rather
minimalised ‘rondel’ architecture also appear in the Final
Eneolithic. Aerial photography by J. Kovárník (1997:17,
fig.16) has located a small, ditched ‘rondel’ (diameter c.
19m) at a Bell Beaker cemetery at Ledce in Moravia; this
discovery is reminiscent of the earlier find of a shallow ring
ditch (diameter c.12m), with traces of two posts inside, at
the edge of a cemetery of the same culture at Lhánice in
Moravia (Hájek 1951:29), which was classified many years
ago as a ‘cult site linked to funeral rites’ (J. Neustupný et
al. 1960:171). Despite the heterogeneous origin of the Bell
Beaker people in central Europe, a direct connection may be
assumed between these sites and the original, local ‘rondel’
architecture. Moreover, their existence at cemeteries
supports the idea of a non-profane meaning for them.
The idea of the Neolithic ‘sacred circle’, however, found
a continuation in particular along the upper Danube and in
western Germany. The enclosures of the Altheim and Cham
cultures (Fig. 4.4, 3, 11, 12) are loosely related to round
structures. Nor can a link to several of the partial enclosures
of the people of the Michelsberg culture and related TRB
complex be ruled out. In Moravia, it has been possible
to provide the very first secure proof of the existence of
‘rondels’ or rondeloids in the Bronze Age (Troskotovice,
Šumice etc). The idea of circular cult areas did not die out
even in the Hallstatt period, but in the La Tène period it
was pushed into the background by rectangular forms (the
‘Viereckschanzen’); in the peripheral regions of the continent
it was revitalised in the first centuries AD: in the Balkans
in the form of round sanctuaries (Sarmizegethusa Regia
and other similar ‘Dacian calendars’ in the mountains of
Transylvania), and to the northwest in the form of the stone
circles (kręgi, Steinkreise, and Domarringar; Podborský
1991:123–134).
Rectangular enclosures
Besides the predominant circular enclosures, rectangular
enclosures – usually square (with sides of c. 60m) – also
appear in the Later Neolithic. There are very rare instances
such as, for example, Eching-Vieht (Petrasch 1990, fig.
20; Trnka 1991:277, fig. 129) and perhaps Schmiedorf or
Bochum-Laer (Lüning 1983–1984:13, Fig. 4.6). A smaller
(c. 18×18m) square area surrounded by a Sohlgraben-
type ditch has been identified at the Münchshöfen culture
settlement of the epi-Lengyel horizon at Murr near Munich;
whole vessels were found within it, leading to consideration
of a cultic function for it (Neumair 2000:101–105, figs.
3, 4). At the same time, the well-known Bavarian site at
Galgenberg has yielded an Eneolithic rondeloid of the Cham
culture overlain by a ditched double-square enclosure (Fig.
4.4:12) that might be Neolithic – as might another square
ground-plan built into what was evidently the perimeter
enclosure of the same settlement (Becker 1996b:74–75, fig.
1a,b).
Thus far, rectangular enclosures are little known, remain
virtually unresearched, and are therefore not convincingly
dated; they tend to be assigned to the Hallstatt period. In
this connection mention is sometimes made of a system of
several, gradually built or renovated square enclosures at
64
Linzing-Osterhofen in western Germany (Fig. 4.4:10); its
dating is, however, contentious.
Traces of a rectangular ditch have been found, though,
during the aerial prospection of a Late Moravian Painted
Pottery settlement at Jevišovice in southwest Moravia by
J. Kovárník (1986:152), which increases the likelihood of
Neolithic rectangular enclosures having existed in central
Europe.
Rectangular enclosures appear more often in the
Eneolithic. The most typical example in central Europe
is the slightly trapezoidal area at Makotřasy in Bohemia,
(Fig. 4.4:8); E. Pleslová-Štiková (1990) has suggested
that it was advantageously chosen for idealised (ritual?)
criss-cross ploughing, and that it was deliberately oriented
astronomically, thus fulfilling a primarily cultic function
including the ritual smelting of copper etc. Aerial survey has
also identified fragments of two quadrangular enclosures at
Božice in South Moravia (Kovárník 1997:23, fig. 18; 2002b,
fig. 1). It was later possible to demonstrate that in 1935 a
well-known hoard of pottery, dating to the early TRB, was
found roughly in the centre of the smaller quadrangular
structure at Božice (Zápotocký 1957:218ff, figs. 103–105;
Lichardus 1976; Kovárník 2002b, fig. 2). Both of the
enclosures are therefore likely to date to this period.
Linear ditches (Langgräben) and pit
alignments (Grubenreihen)
The last phenomena somewhat loosely linked to
prehistoric enclosures, discovered in recent years by aerial
survey, are those of linear ditches and pit alignments. This
‘monumental linear architecture’ is another expression of
the cultural unity of prehistoric Europe (Kovárník 2001a,b).
It occurs in the Carpathian Basin, in Moravia, probably too
in Bohemia, along the middle Elbe and middle Saale, and
westwards as far as the British Isles.
In South Moravia it has been possible to identify linear
ditches through aerial prospection at Oleksovice, Kostice,
Pasohlávky and Přítluky (Kovárník 1997a:315 & 318, fig.
1:3,11; 1997b:332 & 334, fig. 3 etc.; 2001b), in southern
Slovakia at Komjatice (Kuzma 1997:129, fig. SK 15), and in
the Tisza valley at Jánoshida-Portelek (Bewley, Braasch &
Palmer 1996:750, fig. 6). The discovery of an extensive ditch
and palisade enclosure around Řípec hill near Trpoměchy in
Bohemia (Gojda 2000; Křivánek 2001:124–125, fig. 8) is
also important; this was clearly an attempt to separate the
whole hill (perhaps a ‘sacred mound’?) from the densely
settled landscape around. In Germany, linear ditches appear
in particular in Saxony-Anhalt (Altranstädt, Kitzen, Neutz-
Lettewitz), Thuringia, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, and
Saxony (Braasch 1993:33; 1995:121, fig. 19–20).
These ditches crossed the prehistoric cultural landscape
over a length of several hundred metres or even several
kilometres. One cannot rule out the possibility that these
constructions bounded areas that were used as prehistoric
common land, or were held under an early form of common
ownership (cf. Braasch 1993:33).
To interpret the significance of these earthen monuments
is even more complex than is the case for circular ditches
– ‘rondels’. C. Waddington has described linear ditches and
pit alignments in Great Britain, where the different methods
of construction led him to the general conclusion that the
ditches were dug at various periods, by various means and
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
for various purposes, the main concept however having
been the territorial division of large prehistoric settlement
units by a physical border (Waddington 1997). Linear
ditches are understood similarly by Stäuble, who holds that
in the northwestern Elbe Basin – where there are no visible
landscape elements such as hills or bodies of water – these
elements formed territorial boundaries; he compares such
boundaries to, for example, the fences between modern
farmsteads which are in spite of, or perhaps because of this,
the place where neighbourly relations occur. The difference
between pit alignments and linear ditches perhaps lies in
the fact that alignments indicate a greater degree of contact
between neighbouring groups (Stäuble 1999:176–177),
while the less often interrupted ditches express a more
conscious relationship of the individual communities to
the territories concerned (Kovárník 2001b:103–105). It
was in such territories that the actual settlements, fields
and pastures, forests, watercourses, springs and not least
the sacred sites (including the burial sites of the ancestors),
were most likely located. Such territories must have been
virtually unreachable for members of other communities.
This may have represented a sort of initial prehistoric
division of the land.
The linear ditches, and perhaps the pit alignments too,
are again an indication of the high degree of organisation
of the collectives, just as the large monuments of ‘rondel’
and rondeloid type are. Given that these are only the
initial findings, there is insufficient evidence to explain
the functions of linear ditches and pit alignments. Their
territorial distribution attests – as in the case of ‘rondels’
– to a roughly equal socio-economic population level across
a broad swathe of central Europe, from the Great Hungarian
plain, across Moravia and Bohemia to the middle Elbe and
Saale basins, and perhaps as far as the British Isles.
Bibliography
Bálek, M. 1985. Využití leteckého snímkování v archeologii na
Moravě v roce 1983 (okr. Třebíč a Znojmo) – Auswertung der
Luftaufnahmen in der Archäologie in Mähren im Jahre 1983
(Bez. Třebíč und Znojmo). Přehled výzkumů AÚ ČSAV v Brně
za rok 1983:113–114.
Becker, H. 1990. Mittelneolithische Kreisgrabenanlagen
in Niederbayern und ihre Interpretation auf Grund von
Luftbildern und Bodenmagnetik. In K. Schmotz (ed.) Vorträge
des 8. Niederbayerischen Archäologentages, pp. 139–176.
Deggendorf.
Becker, H. 1996a. Befestigte Siedlungen, Kultplätze und Burgen
aus der ausgehenden Jungsteinzeit: Altheim-Essenbach,
Linzing-Osterhofen und Galgenberg-Kopfham. In H. Becker
(ed.) Archäologische Prospektion, Luftbildarchäologie und
Geophysik. Arbeitshefte des Bayerischen Landesamtes für
Denkmalpflege 59:123–134.
Becker, H. 1996b. Kultplätze, Sonnentempel und Kalenderbauten
aus dem 5. Jahrtausend vor Chr.: die mittelneolithischen
Kreisanlagen in Niederbayern. In Archäologische Prospektion,
pp. 101–122. München.
Behrens, H. 1981. The first ‘Woodhenge’ in Middle Europe.
Antiquity 55:172–178.
Berkovec, T. and Čižmář, Z. 2001. Příkopové areály v prostředí
kultury s lineární keramikou na Moravě (Příspěvek k řešení
problému rozšíření, interpretace funkce a postavení areálů
s příkopy v sídelní struktuře LnK) – Grabenareale im Milieu
der Kultur mit Linearkeramik in Mähren (Beitrag zur Lösung
des Problems einer Ausbreitung, Interpretation der Funktion
und Stellung der Areale mit Graben in der Siedlungsstruktur
65
der LbK). In M. Metlička (ed.) Otázky neolitu a eneolitu
našich zemí – 2000, pp.19–45. Plzeň: ZM.
Bewley, R., Braasch, O. and Palmer, R. 1996. An aerial archaeology
training week, 15–22 June 1996, held near Siòfok, Lake
Balaton, Hungary. Antiquity 70:745–750.
Bogucki, P. 2001. Recent research on early farming in central
Europe. Documenta Praehistorica 28:85–97.
Bouzek, J. 2001. Rondely a obdobné kruhové stavby – možnosti
interpretace (Rondelle und analogische Kreisbauten – Inter-
pretationsmöglichkeiten). In V. Podborský (ed.) 2001:203–
207.
Braasch, O. 1993. Im Osten endlich freie Sicht von oben.
Archäologie in Deutschland Heft 4:32–35.
Braasch, O. 1995. 50 Jahre verloren. In Luftbildarchäologie in
Ost- und Mitteleuropa. Forschungen zur Archäologie im Land
Brandenburg 3, pp. 109–122. Potsdam.
Brentjes, B. 1973. Zlatý věk lidstva (český překlad knihy) (Von
Schanidar bis Akkad, Urania, Leipzig-Jena-Berlin 1968).
Praha: Orbis.
Bujna, J. and Romsauer, P. 1986. Siedlung und Kreisanlage
der Lengyel-Kultur in Bučany. In B. Chropovský and H.
Friesinger (eds.) Internationales Symposium über die Lengyel-
Kultur, Nové Vozokany 1984, pp. 27–35. Nitra-Wien.
Christlein, R. and Braasch, O. 1992. Das unterirdische Bayern.
7000 Jahre Geschichte und Archäologie im Luftbild. Stuttgart:
Konrad Theiss.
Čižmář, Z. 2001. Epilengyelské sídliště v Seloutkách (okres
Prostějov). Příspěvek k poznání rondelové architektury
na střední Moravě – Eine Siedlung der Epilengyel-Kultur
in Seloutky (Bez. Prostějov). Beitrag zur Erkenntnis der
Rondellarchitektur in Mittelmähren. In V. Podborský 2001
(ed.), 225–256.
Čižmář, Z. 2002. Dvojitý ‘rondel’ kultury s moravskou malovanou
keramikou v Mašovicích, okr. Znojmo – Zweifaches Rondell
der Mährischen-bemalten-Keramik in Mašovice, Bez. Znojmo.
In I. Cheben and I. Kuzma (eds.) Otázky neolitu a eneolitu
našich krajín, pp. 57–72. Nitra.
Eckert, J. 1990. Überlegungen zu Bauweise und Funktion
Michelsberger Erdwerke im Rheinland. Jahresschrift für
Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte 73:399–414.
Fröhlich, S. (ed.) 1997. Luftbildarchäologie in Sachsen-Anhalt.
Begleitband zur Sonderausstellung. Halle: Landesmuseum
für Vorgeschichte Halle (Saale).
Gojda, M. 2000. Archeologie krajiny – The Archaeology of
Landscape. Praha: Academia.
Hájek, L. 1951. Nové nálezy kultury zvoncovitých pohárů –
Nouvelles trouvailles de la civilisation à vases campaniformes
en Moravie. Archeologické rozhledy 3:27–30.
Hašek, V. and Kovárník, J. 1996. Letecká a geofyzikální prospekce
při výzkumu pravěkých kruhových příkopů na Moravě –
Luftbildarchäologie und geophysikalische Untersuchung der
prähistorischen Ringförmigen Strukturen in Mähren. Sborník
Prací Filozofické Fakulty Brněnské Univerzity M 1:57–79.
Höckmann, O. 1975. Wehranlagen der jüngeren Steinzeit. In
Ausgrabungen in Deutschland. RGZM Monographien 1/3,
pp. 277–296. Mainz: RGZM.
Höckmann, O. 1990. Frühneolithische Einhegungen in Europa.
Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte 73:57–86.
Horský, Z. 1986. Vorläufige Untersuchungen über vermutliche
astronomische Orientierung einiger neolithischer Kreisgraben-
anlagen. In B. Chropovský and H. Friesinger (eds.)
Internationales Symposium über die Lengyel-Kultur, Nové
Vozokany 1984, pp. 83–87. Nitra-Wien.
Humpolová, A. 2001. Rondeloid č. III lidu s moravskou
malovanou keramikou ve Vedrovicích – Das Rondeloid Nr. III
des Volkes mit Mährischer bemalter Keramik in Vedrovice. In
V. Podborský 2001 (ed.), 157–166.
Humpolová, A. and Ondruš, V. 1999. Vedrovice, okr. Znojmo
– Vedrovice, Znojmo District. In V. Podborský (ed.)1999,
167–219.
Enclosing the Past
Kaczanowska, M. 1986. Rohstoffe. Technik und Industrien im
Nordteil des Flussgebietes der Mitteldonau. Warszawa.
Kalicz, N. 1983–1984. Übersicht über den Forschungsstand
der Entwicklung der Lengyel- Kultur und die ältesten
‘Wehranlagen’ in Ungarn. Mitteilungen der Österreichischen
Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Ur- und Frühgeschichte 33–34:271–
293.
Kalicz, N. 1985. Kökori falu Aszòdon – Neolithisches Dorf in
Aszòd. Aszòd: Petöfi Múzeum.
Kállay, Á. Sz. 1990. Die kupferzeitliche Ringanlage von
Füzesabony. Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte
73:125–130.
Karlovský, V. and Pavúk, J. 2002. Astronomická orientácia
rondelov lengyelskej kultúry – Astronomische Orientierung
des Rondells der Lengyel-Kultur. In I. Cheben and I. Kuzma
(eds.) Otázky neolitu a eneolitu našich krajín – 2001, pp.113–
127. Nitra.
Károlyi, M. 1983–1984. Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen bis 1980 in
der befestigten Ansiedlung von Sé, Westungarn. Mitteilungen
der Österreichischen Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Ur- und
Frühgeschichte 33–34:294–307.
Kaufmann, D. 1997. Zur Funktion linienbandkeramischer Erdwerke.
In K. Schmotz (ed.) Vorträge des 15. Niederbayerischen
Archäologentages, pp. 41–87. Deggendorf.
Kazdová, E. 2000. Některé výsledky výzkumu ohrazeného areálu
kultury s vypíchanou keramikou v Pavlově na Břeclavsku
– Zu einigen Ergebnissen der Ausgrabungen eines umfriedeten
Areals der Kultur mit Stichbandkeramik in Pavlov bei
Břeclav. In P. Čech and M. Dobeš (eds.) Sborník Miroslavu
Buchvaldkovi Most, pp. 117–122.
Kazdová, E. 2001. Importy lengyelské keramiky v prostředí
kultury s vypíchanou keramikou – Lengyel pottery imports
within the Stroked pottery culture environment. Sborník Prací
Filozofické Fakulty Brněnské Univerzity, M 6:39–50.
Kazdová, E. and Weber, Z. 1990. Architektur der Lengyel-Rondelle
im mittleren Donauraum. Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche
Vorgeschichte 73:159–169.
Koštuřík, P. 1983–1984. Befestigte Ansiedlungen der MBK-
Kultur in Mähren. Mitteilungen der Österreicheichischen
Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Ur- und Frühgeschichte 33–34:89–
110.
Kovárník, J. 1985. Dosavadní výsledky leteckého archeologického
průzkumu na jižní Moravě (okr. Znojmo, Brno-město)
– Luftbildarchäologie und ihre bisherigen Ergebnisse in
Südmähren (Bez. Znojmo, Brno-Stadt). Přehled výzkumů AÚ
ČSAV v Brně za rok 1983:102–105.
Kovárník, J. 1986. Zur Frage der Verbreitung der Kreisgräben in
der Kultur mit mährischer bemalter Keramik im Kreise Znojmo.
In B. Chropovský and H. Friesinger (eds.) Internationales
Symposium über die Lengyel-Kultur, Nové Vozokany 1984,
pp.151–161. Nitra-Wien.
Kovárník, J. 1996. Přínos letecké archeologie k poznání pravěku
a rané doby dějinné na Moravě (1983–1995) – Der Beitrag
der Luftbildarchäologie zur Erkenntnis der Urzeit und der
historischen Frühzeit in Mähren (1983–1995). Archeologické
rozhledy 48:177–193.
Kovárník, J. 1997a. K významu pravěkých kruhových příkopů.
Úvahy k hospodářství, náboženství a organizovanosti starých
zemědělských civilizací – The Importance of Primeval Circular
Ditches. Considerations on farming, religion and organisation
of ancient agricultural civilisations. Brno.
Kovárník, J. 1997b. 10 let letecké archeologie na Moravě (a
v bývalém Československu) 1983–1993. Přehled výzkumů
AÚ ČSAV v Brně za léta 1993–1994:311–331.
Kovárník, J. 1998. Pravěké kruhové příkopy na Moravě. Letecká
prospekce, geofyzikální měření, archeologický výzkum
a interpretace – Urgeschichtliche kreisförmige Gräben
in Mähren. In P. Kouřil, R. Nekuda and J. Unger (eds.) Ve
službách archeologie, pp. 145–161. Brno.
Kovárník, J. 1999. 15 let letecké archeologie na Moravě (a
66
v bývalém Československu) 1983–1998. Přehled výzkumů
AÚ AV ČR v Brně za léta 1997–1998:406–419.
Kovárník, J. 2001. Dlouhé příkopy a řady jam na Moravě – Long
Ditches and Pit Alignments of Moravia. In R. Hašek, J. Nekuda
and V. Unger (eds.) Ve službách archeologie 3 – In service to
Archaeology 3, pp. 99–106. Brno.
Kovárník, J. 2002a. Centrální mladoneolitická sídliště středního
Podunají 1, 2. Rukopis habilitační práce na FF MU Brno.
Kovárník, J. 2002b. Keramické votum z Božic, brázděný vpich
a jiná zjištění aneb Ján Lichardus má pravdu – Votum von
Božice, Furchenstichkeramik und andere Feststellungen oder
Ján Lichardus hat Recht. Sborník Prací Filozofické Fakulty
Brněnské Univerzity M 7:33–54.
Kruk, J. and Milisauskas, S. 1985. Bronocice. Osiedle obronne
ludności kultury lubelsko- wołyńskiej (2800–2700 lat p.n.e.)
– Bronocice. A Fortified Settlement of the Lublin-Volhynian
Culture, 2800–2700 bc. Wrocław: Ossolienum.
Kruk, J. and Milisauskas, S. 1999. Rozkwit i upadek społeczeństw
rolniczych neolitu – The Rise and Fall of Neolithic Societies.
Krakòw.
Křivánek, R. 2001. Přínos měření cesiovými magnetometry pro
průzkum i výzkum archeologických lokalit v letech 1999–
2000 – Contribution of caesium magnetometer measurements
in prospection and research of archaeological sites in 1999–
2000. In V. Hašek, R. Nekuda and J. Unger (eds.) Ve službách
archeologie 3 – In Service to Archaeology 3, pp. 114–131.
Brno.
Kurz, S. 1994. Archäologische Untersuchungen im Gewerbegebiet
Dresden-Nickern – eine Bestandsübersicht. Archäologie
aktuell im Freistaat Sachsen 2/1994:23–29.
Kuzma, I. 1997. Die großen Kreise der ersten Bauern. Bilder der
Jungsteinzeit in Zentraleuropa. In J. Oexle et al. (eds.) Aus
der Luft – Bilder unserer Geschichte. Luftbildarchäologie in
Zentraleuropa, pp. 47–58. Dresden.
Kuzma, I. 1998. Kruhové priekopové útvary na Slovensku
(súčasný stav). In J. Prostředník and V. Vokolek Otázky
neolitu a eneolitu našich zemí – 1997, pp. 94–102. Turnov-
Hradec Králové.
Kuzma, I. 1999. Kruhové opevnenie v Branči – Die
Kreisgrabenanlage in Branč. In I. Kuzma (ed.) Otázky neolitu
a eneolitu našich krajín – 1998, pp. 133–142. Nitra.
Kuzma, I., Illášová, A. and Tirpák, J. 1999. ‘rondel’ v Horných
Otrokovciach – Die Kreisgrabenanlage in Horné Otrokovce.
Sborník Prací Filozofické Fakulty Brněnské Univerzity M
4:129–154.
Kuzma, I. and Tirpák, J. 2001a. Štvornásobný ‘rondel’ v Cíferi,
okr. Trnava – Quadruple circular enclosure in Cífer, district
Trnava, pp. 205–210. Brno.
Kuzma, I. and Tirpák, J. 2001b: ‘rondel’ v Golianove, okr. Nitra
(predbežná správa) – Die Kreisgrabenanlage in Golianovo,
Bez. Nitra (Vorbericht). In M. Metlička (ed.) Otázky neolitu a
eneolitu našich zemí – 2000, pp. 46–55. ZM Plzeň.
Kuzma, I. and Tirpák, J. 2001c. Triple circular ditch system
in Golianovo, district Nitra, Slovakia. In Archaeological
Prospection, Fourth International Conference on
Archaeological Prospection, pp. 138–141. Wien.
Kuzma, I. and Tirpák, J. 2003. Niektoré výsledky leteckej a
geofyzikálnej prospekcie v rokoch 1999–2002 v AÚ SAV
Nitra – Some results of aerial and geophysical prospection in
years 1999–2002 in Institute of Archaeology in Nitra. In V.
Hašek, R. Nekuda and J. Unger (eds.) Ve službách archeologie
IV – In Service to Archaeology IV, pp. 30–37. Brno.
Lazarovici, G. 1991. Grupul si statiunea Iclod – Die Gruppe und
Station Iclod. Cluj-Napoca.
Lenneis, E. 1977. Siedlungsfunde aus Poigen und Frauenhofen
bei Horn. Horn-Wien.
Lenneis, E., Neugebauer-Maresch C. and Ruttkay E. 1995.
Jungsteinzeit im Osten Österreichs. St. Pölten-Wien.
Lichardus, J. 1976. Das Keramikdepot von Božice und seine
chronologische Stellung innerhalb des frühen Äneolithikums in
 Podborský and Kovárník: Neolithic and post-Neolithic enclosures in Moravia
Mitteleuropa. Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte
60:161–174.
Lüning, J. 1983–1984. Mittelneolithische Grabenanlagen im
Rheinland und in Westfalen. Mitteilungen der Österreichischen
Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Ur- und Frühgeschichte 33–34:9–25.
Lüning, J. 1988. Zur Verbreitung und Datierung bandkeramischer
Erdwerke. Archäologisches Korrespondenzblatt 18:155–158.
Makkay, J. 1978. Mahlstein und das rituale Mahlen in den
prähistorischen Opferzeremonien. Acta Archaeologica
Academiae Scientiarem Hungaricae 30:13–36.
Makkay, J. 1986. Angaben zur Archäologie der Indogermanenfrage
I. Acta Archaeologica Hungarica 38:13–29.
Makkay, J. 1990. Einige Bemerkungen zur Deutung der
Grabenanlagen aus dem indogermanischen Sprachgebiet.
Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte 73:471–490.
Makkay, J. 2001. Die Grabenlagen im indogermanischen Raum.
Budapest.
Maurer, H. 1982. Neolithische Kultobjekte aus dem
niederösterreichischen Manhartsbergbereich. Ein Beitrag
zur jungsteinzeitlichen Geistesgeschichte. Mannus-Bibliothek
N.F. 19. Hückeswagen.
Mikschofsky, D. 1999. Archäologische Luftbilderkundung in
Kyhna, Lkr. Delitzsch. Archäologie aktuell im Freistaat
Sachsen 5:106–111.
Modderman, P. J. R. 1983–84. Einige Gedanken zur Deutung
der mittelneolithischen Grabenanlagen. Mitteilungen
der Österreichischen Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Ur- und
Frühgeschichte 33–34:347–350.
Neubauer, W., Melichar, P. and Eder-Hinterleitner, A. 1996.
Collection, visualization and simulation of magnetic
prospection data. Interfacing the past. Computer applications
and quantitative methods in archaeology 95 vol. I. Analecta
Praehistorica Leidensia 28:121–129.
Neugebauer, J.-W. 1986a. Erdgroßbauten der älteren Stufe der
Lengyel-Kultur. In B. Chropovský and H. Friesinger (eds.)
Internationales Symposium über die Lengyel-Kultur, Nové
Vozokany 1984:185–194. Nitra-Wien.
Neugebauer, J.-W. 1986b. Mittelneolithische Kreisgrabenanlagen
und Befestigungen in Niederösterreich. In B. Engelhardt
and K. Schmotz (eds.) Vorträge des 4. Niederbayerischen
Archäologentages, pp. 73–85. Deggendorf.
Neugebauer, J.-W. and Neugebauer-Maresch, Ch. 1978.
Falkenstein-Schanzboden: älteste Wallburg Mitteleuropas?
Antike Welt 9:25–26.
Neugebauer, J.-W. and Neugebauer-Maresch, Ch. 1981.
Bericht über die Grabungen in den Befestigungsanlagen
der Lengyelkultur auf dem sogenannten Schanzboden zu
Falkenstein in Niederösterreich. Fundberichte aus Österreich
19:151–155.
Neumair, E. 2000. Neue Aspekte zum Siedlungswesen der
Münchshöfener Kultur anhand von Untersuchungen in Murr,
Lkr. Freising. Varia neolithica I: Beiträge zur Ur- und
Frühgeschichte Mitteleuropas 22:99–114. Weissbach.
Neustupný, E. 1995. The significance of facts. Journal of
European Archaeology 3/1:189–212.
Neustupný, J. 1948–1950. Neolitická opevněná osada v Hlubokých
Mašůvkách u Znojma. Časopis Národního muzea v Praze
118–119:11–49.
Neustupný, J. et al. 1960. Pravěk Československa. Praha.
Němejcová-Pavúková, V. 1986. Siedlung und Kreisgrabenanlagen
der Lengyel-Kultur in Svodín (Südslowakei). In B. Chropovský
and H. Friesinger (eds.) Internationales Symposium über die
Lengyel-Kultur, Nové Vozokany 1984. Nitra-Wien.
Němejcová-Pavúková, V. 1995. Svodín I. Zwei Kreigrabenanlagen
der Lengyel-Kultur. Bratislava.
Němejcová-Pavúková, V. 1997. Kreisgrabenanlage der Lengyel-
Kultur in Ružindol-Borová. Bratislava.
Patay, P. 1990. Die kupferzeitliche Siedlung von Tiszalúc-Sarkad.
Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte 73:131–135.
Pavlů, I. 1982. Die neolithischen Kreisgrabenanlagen in Böhmen.
67
Archeologické rozhledy 34:176–189.
Pavlů, I.1983–1984. Neolithische Grabenanlagen in Böhmen
anhand neuerer Forschungen. Mitteilungen der Öster-
reichischen Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Ur- und Frühgeschichte
33–34:73–88.
Pavlů, I. 1986. Neolithische Grabenanlagen in Böhmen. Évkönyve
Szekszárd 13:255–263.
Pavlů, I., Rulf, J. and Zápotocká, M. 1995. Bylany Rondel: model
of the Neolithic Site. Památky archeologické Suppl. 3:7–123.
Pavúk, J. 1990. Siedlung der Lengyel-Kultur mit Palisadenanlagen
in Žlkovce, Westslowakei. Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche
Vorgeschichte 73:137–142.
Pavúk, J. 1991. Lengyel-culture fortified settlements in Slovakia.
Antiquity 65:348–358.
Pavúk, J. 1992. Sídlisko lengyelskej kultúry v Žlkovciach,
ohradené palisádami – The Lengyel Culture palisade enclosure
at Žlkovce. Archeologické rozhledy 44:3–9.
Petrasch, J. 1990a. Mittelneolithische Kreisgrabenanlagen in
Mitteleuropa. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission
71:407–564.
Petrasch, J. 1990b. Überlegungen zur Funktion neolithischer
Erdwerke anhand mittelneolithischer Grabenanlagen aus
Südostbayern. Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte
73:369–387.
Pleslová-Štiková, E. 1990. Umfriedungen und befestigte
Siedlungen aus dem Äneolithikum Böhmens: Versuch
einer kulturhistorischen Interpretation. Jahresschrift für
Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte 73:191–201.
Podborský, V. 1976. Erkenntnisse auf Grund der bisherigen
Ausgrabungen in der Siedlung mit mährischer bemalter
Keramik bei Těšetice-Kyjovice. Jahresschrift für
Mitteldeutsche Vorgeschichte 60:129–148.
Podborský, V. 1988. Těšetice-Kyjovice 4: ‘Rondel’ osady lidu
s moravskou malovanou keramikou – Těšetice-Kyjovice 4:
das Rondell der Niederlassung des Volkes mit Mährischer
bemalter Keramik. Brno: UJEP.
Podborský, V. 1991. Poznámky ke kruhovým architekturám pravěké
a raně historické Evropy – Notizen zu der Kreisarchitektur des
vor- und frühgeschichtlichen Europa. Pravěk NF 1:90–148.
Podborský, V. (ed.) 1999. Pravěká sociokultovní architektura
na Moravě – Primeval socio-ritual architecture in Moravia.
Brno: MU.
Podborský, V. (ed.) 2001. 50 let archeologických výzkumů
Masarykovy univerzity na Znojemsku – 50 Jahre
archäologischer Forschungen der Masaryk-Universität im
Gebiet von Znaim. Brno: MU.
Podborský, V. 2001. Modely funkcní interpretace pravěkých
rondelů – Modelle einer Funktionsinterpretierung urzeitlicher
Rondelle. In Podborský (ed.) 2001, 209–211.
Podborský, V. (ed.) 2002. Dvě pohřebiště neolitického lidu
s lineární keramikou ve Vedrovicích na Moravě – Zwei
Gräberfelder des neolithischen Volkes mit Linearbandkeramik
in Vedrovice in Mähren. Brno: MU.
Preuß, J. (ed.) 1998. Das Neolithikum in Mitteleuropa: Kulturen
– Wirtschaft – Umwelt vom 6. bis 3. Jahrtausend v.u.Z., Band
1/1, Teil A. Weissbach: Beier et Beran.
Raczky et al. 2002. Polgár-Csőszhalom (1989–2000): Summary of
the Hungarian-German excavations on a Neolithic settlement in
Eastern Hungary. In R. Aslan, S. Blum, G. Kastl, F. Schweizer
and D. Thumm (eds.) Mauerschau: Festschrift für Manfred
Korfmann, pp. 833–860. Rehmshalden-Grunbach: Greiner.
Rakovský, I. 1990. Zur Problematik der äneolithischen
Höhensiedlungen in Mähren. Jahresschrift für Mitteldeutsche
Vorgeschichte 73:149–157.
Rulf J. 1992. Středoevropské neolitické rondely. Dějiny a
současnost 6:7–11.
Schier, W. 1999. Eine Kreisgrabenanlage der Grossgartacher
Kultur von Ippesheim. Das archäologische Jahr in Bayern
1998:17–20.
Schmotz, K. 1982. Das jungsteinzeitliche Grabenrondell von
Enclosing the Past
Ramsdorf, Gemeinde Wallerfing, und verwandte Denkmäler
in Niederbayern. Deggendorfer Geschichtsblätter 2:70–7,
Abb. 1–5.
Stäuble, H. 1999. Von der Linie zur Fläche: archäologische
Grossprojekte im Südraum Leipzigs. In K. Schmotz (ed.)
Vorträge des 17. Niederbayerischen Archäologentages, pp.
149–190. Deggendorf.
Točík, A. 1981. Nitrianský Hrádok-Zámeček. MAS 3, Band I/1,2,
II. Nitra.
Točík, A.1987. Beitrag zur Frage der befestigten und
Höhensiedlungen im mittleren und späten Äneolithikum in der
Slowakei. Študijné zvesti AÚ SAV Nitra 23:5–29.
Trnka, G. 1991. Studien zu mittelneolithischen Kreisgrabenanlagen.
Wien.
Trnka, G. 1997. Zur Bauweise mittelneolithischer Kreisgraben-
anlagen. Sborník Prací Filozofické Fakulty Brněnské
Univerzity M 2:41–48.
Ulrychová, E. 2001. Sídlištní areály s kruhovými objekty na
Jičínsku – Siedlungsareale mit Rundbauten in der Gegend von
Jičín. In M. Metlička (ed.) Otázky neolitu a eneolitu našich
zemí – 2000, pp. 56–62. Plzeň: ZM.
Urban, O. H. 1983–1984. Die lengyelzeitliche Grabenanlage
von Wetzleinsdorf, NÖ. Mitteilungen der Österreichischen
Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Ur- und Frühgeschichte 33–34:209–
220.
68
Vencl, S. 1997. K problému počátků pravěkých fortifikací
– Beginnings of prehistoric defensive architecture. Sborník
Prací Filozofické Fakulty Brněnské Univerzity M 2:29–389.
Vladár, J. and Lichardus, J. 1968. Erforschung der frühäneolithischen
Siedlungen in Branč. Slovenská archeològia 16/2:263–352.
Vokolek, V. and Zápotocká, M. 1997. Neolithische Gräber und
Gräberfelder in Plotiště n.L. und Předměřice n.L., Bezirk
Hradec Králové. Památky archeologické 88/1:5–55.
Waddington, C. 1997. A review of ‘Pit Alignments’ and a tentative
interpretation of the Milfield Complex. Durham Archaeo-
logical Journal 13:21–33.
Wainwright, G. 1989. Woodhenges – hölzerne Kultanlagen der
Jungsteinzeit. In Siedlungen der Steinzeit, Haus, Festung und
Kult. Spektrum Heidelberg, pp. 170–179.
Windl, H.1996. Archäologie einer Katastrophe und deren
Vorgeschichte. In H. Windl, J. Steiner and N. Weigl (eds.) Rätsel
um Gewalt und Tod vor 7.000 Jahren: eine Spurensicherung.
Katalog des NÖ Landesmuseums N.F. 393, pp. 7–45. Asparn
a. d. Zaya.
Windl, H.J. 1999. Makabres Ende einer Kultur? Archäologie in
Deutschland Heft 1:54–57.
Zápotocký, M. 1957. K problému počátků kultury nálevkovitých
pohárů – Zum Problem der Anfänge der Trichterbecherkultur.
Archeologické rozhledy 9:206–235.
5: The first known enclosures in southern Britain: their nature,
function and role, in space and time
Roger J. Mercer
Abstract: Excavations conducted at Hambledon Hill,
Dorset, England, have revealed a site that was built over
a period of some 400 years between 3600 and 3200 cal
BC. During that time, the development of the site suggests
a shift of ‘power-focus’ from east to west in a sector that,
on a number of grounds, appears to have been a cultural
and economic borderland between territory to the southwest
and that to the north and east. One of the most prominent
features that characterises this division is the design,
function and ‘career’ of the Neolithic enclosures that occur
on both sides of the divide. To the southwest, enclosures
have complex sequences that often involve settlement and
sometimes ‘defence’ – a complex concept – and evidence of
attack. To the northeast, the ‘careers’ of enclosures through
their period of use become less apparently variable and as
we move progressively eastward apparently less intensive
with fewer long-range contacts. Enclosures in both zones
appear to occupy marginal locations to the societies that
built and used them, although in the southwestern zone
defence and ‘pre-eminence’ would also appear to play a
siting role.
Keywords: Southern Britain, Neolithic, enclosure, defence,
territoriality
The act of enclosure
Enclosures in all their variety, over 6000 years of
European prehistory, offer an unfading attraction to the
archaeologist. By their very nature they exhibit an ‘internal’
and ‘external’ logic in their seeming synchronic unity, or
diachronic complexity, that encourages, indeed demands, a
degree of classification and order that is, apparently, denied
to less obviously ‘organised’ structures. Such classification
and ordering may, however, offer only illusory security
to the scholar who may be led quite unconsciously, or at
least semi-consciously, into functionalist and cultural
assumptions, often ethnocentric, and usually unjustified.
One of the most common of such assumptions relates to
‘defence’ and what constitutes defensive and non-defensive
enclosure, a discussion more often than not conducted in
accord with notions associated with artillery warfare and
relatively modern ideas of military discipline and conduct.
Such classifications are indeed imperilled if it is postulated
that the nature of the enclosure may not be ‘enclosive’ as ‘an
event’, but a cumulative statement over a period of many
months or seasons, monumental in its ultimate outcome
and perhaps intention, and, perhaps, ‘enclosive’ as only an
ultimate stage of its development, where the accomplishment
of the outcome is more important than the outcome itself.
Such cumulicity may well be deniable either on the basis
of ‘Occam’s Razor’, or on the basis of ‘unity of conception’
in later enclosures, but for those of the early farming
period with their distinctive ‘causewayed’ or ‘interrupted
ditch’ construction it is usually, if not always, impossible
69
to demonstrate with certainty any unity of execution of the
project. Indeed the waywardness of the alignment of the
segments of causewayed ditch, whether in Denmark, Britain
or Central Europe, and the quite individual filling patterns
of contiguous segments that is frequently in evidence, might
support the notion of individual events in a long, but by no
means continuous, process.
Yet there are arguments that do indicate that at least some
of these causewayed enclosures were unitary conceptions.
Sadly their very antiquity has eroded in almost all instances
the principal evidence for this – for the evidence lies largely
in the superstructure, the bank/rampart/wall, the obstacle,
that was set, almost always, on the inner side of the ditch
and which now, again almost always, has been removed by
anthropogenic or natural forces. Often only ground-fast
supports or adjuncts to this barrier survive archaeologically
and their association with the ‘ditches’ is as uncertain as the
archaeological association between the segments of ditch
themselves.
Yet these banks have in a number of instances (Hambledon
Hill, Dorset; Crickley Hill, Gloucestershire; Carn Brea,
Cornwall; Orsett, Essex) an internal logic which suggests
that, whether on the grounds of the inter-relationship of
timber ground-fast supports, or on the basis of the existence
of evanescent or relict traces of the substance of a bank, that
these obstacles were continuous and do not reflect directly
the discontinuous appearance of the ditch segments. Yet
how certain can we be of the unity of a linear earthwork
without total excavation over a substantial distance – an
investigation that has seldom taken place?
Furthermore the nature of these inner linear barriers
appears, where it is susceptible to interpretation, to be
extremely variable. It needs to be understood that relatively
few excavations have taken place in Britain, or indeed
Europe, that allow any complete understanding of the nature
of the barrier that exists behind the ditch. Indeed the more
such excavations that take place the greater the degree of
variety that appears to be witnessed.
The nature of enclosure
In Britain, at the seminal site of Windmill Hill, the inner
barrier has been argued on the basis of both relict traces and
of the filling of the ditches by both Smith (1965) and Whittle
(1999) to have been, in the case of all three circuits of ditch,
continuous ‘dump-style’ banks of piled white chalk with the
site itself carefully offset on the low summit of the hill to
promote intervisibility with lower areas set to the north and
northwest – an intervisibility only realisable in circumstances
of relatively sparse vegetation; a situation strangely at
variance with the palaeo-environmental evidence secured
from local contemporary contexts. A similar situation
is postulated on the basis of the extensive excavations at
Briar Hill, Northamptonshire (Bamford 1985) where, on
the basis of the asymmetry of the ditch filling, once again
Enclosing the Past
the excavator reconstructed a simple dump-style bank – but
in this instance of rust-red Northamptonshire ironstone
and gravel, and where the issues associated with the
intervisibility of the nature of enclosure with its hinterland
have been briefly explored by Oswald, Dyer and Barber
(2001) who classify this enclosure along with a series of
others in having a valley-side and therefore ‘tilted’ location
which offered prospects to and from the valley hinterland.
The nature of the gravel ditch-fillings at Briar Hill also
made abundantly clear – something that had been suspected
on the less archaeologically transparent blocky fillings of
the chalk-based sites – that multiple and complex phases of
deliberate re-cutting of the ditch fills had taken place with
the selective placement of debris within the declivities so
created. To this widespread (although not universal) feature
of early enclosure use we shall return.
At Hambledon Hill, Dorset (Mercer 1980, 1988; Mercer
& Healy forthcoming) the evidence is more difficult to
interpret due to the relatively steep slopes upon which the
enclosures are built. A detailed programme of radiocarbon
dating has shown that the main hilltop enclosure, with its
immediately cognate cross-ditches and the long barrow set
immediately to the south of the enclosure are broadly of the
earliest phase of enclosing activity on the site – followed
(within a century) by the construction of the enclosure
on the southeast spur of the hill known as the Stepleton
enclosure. Bearing in mind the relative steepness of slope,
and the distortive effect that this is likely to have had upon
infilling processes, it would appear likely that the evidence
of the ditch fills, and other relict evidence, could support
a conclusion that the inner barrier at both of these early
enclosures was a continuous bank that may have been timber
reinforced (certainly evidence exists elsewhere on the site
for timber-reinforced vertically-faced walls and ramparts).
Certainly, just as at Windmill Hill, the two enclosures were
quite clearly ‘offset’ from their summit and spur-head
positions, apparently in order to promote the intervisibility
of the white chalk bank/ditch pattern of the enclosures
with the immediately contiguous upland area of Cranborne
Chase set 1km to the east beyond the river Iwerne valley,
reflecting a similar concern seen at Windmill Hill and to be
suggested at other less completely excavated chalk-based
sites (Whitesheet Hill, Wiltshire; Maiden Castle, Dorset).
At Hambledon, if this early phase of enclosure (3800–3600
cal. BC) is accepted as displaying timber framed ‘walls’,
the next principal stage (3600–3400 cal. BC) certainly did
adhere to this model. This later stage also sees a functional
and indeed orientational re-focusing of the site. The two
earlier enclosures are quite carefully enclosed within a
new ‘outwork’ system (although the Stepleton site is partly
slighted), along with the rest of the summit of the three
spurs (southeast, east and north) of the hill, within a system
of linear earthworks enclosing 60 hectares and comprising
some 5000 linear metres of ditch and barrier but now
displaying its strength, although not its format, in a sky-line
position, not, as formerly, displaying itself to the east, but
dominating the basin of the Vale of Blackmore to the west
and northwest. Where these outworks are sited on the steep
slopes, they have been heavily eroded at and beneath their
base and where lateral erosion has thus been accelerated,
evidence for structure can be difficult to interpret. Where,
however, the gradient is not so critical and bank bases
have survived massive erosion (which has demonstrably
ripped away up to 0.5m from the subsoil surface on the
70
site) it is clear that there remain traces, patchy but quite
unmistakable, of a vertical post organisation that is difficult
to explain in terms other than the creation of a vertically
faced box-framed rampart, its outer front revetted by panels
of timber framed wattling, a burnt segment of which was
located in a primary context in the rampart’s cognate ditch.
At Hambledon over a period of a couple of hundred years
requirements had clearly changed ‘politically’. Formerly
the need had been for a ‘statement’ of physical presence (a
statement constantly renewed by ditch recutting-episodes
‘celebrated’ by the deposit of feasting debris) and a statement
of the extent of the enclosed area, designed to be inclusive
in a geo-political relationship focused towards the east and
Cranborne Chase. Latterly the desire seems to be to impress
and exclude with these intentions focused towards the west
and the Vale of Blackmore.
Such inclusive/celebrative versus exclusive/impressive
roles are witnessed elsewhere in Britain and Northwest
Europe at this time but not, demonstrably, in the
chronological functional succession seen at Hambledon nor,
in chronological terms, with sufficient sensitivity to allow
meaningful comparison with the Hambledon time-frame.
The focus to the west
A good example of this concerns two sites about equi-
distant from Hambledon in the southern English context.
Hembury, Devon, is one of the earliest causewayed
enclosure sites to be investigated (Liddell 1930, 1931, 1932,
1935), and excavated extremely well by the standards of the
time, by Dorothy Liddell, sister-in-law of Alexander Keiller,
the prime force behind the excavations at Windmill Hill.
Hembury is a promontory site set on a Greensand geological
base overlooking the lowlands of South Devon in very much
a similar circumstance to that of Hambledon Hill dominating
the flat-lands of Blackmore. Recognised archaeologically
by virtue of the late first millennium ramparts prominent
upon the site, only Liddell’s excavations revealed the
relatively minimal Neolithic earthworks lying beneath.
Our understanding of this earthwork is limited, as a result
of the severely limited excavation possible within Liddell’s
resources, but it is probably a single causewayed ditch with,
set on its inner edge, a continuous rampart which appears to
have been vertically faced and revetted with timber. This
obstacle appears to have been subjected to firing in an episode
which led to burning timbers collapsing into the ditch where
their remains were located in direct association with a large
number (c. 80) of leaf-shaped arrowheads, many of which
exhibited traces of calcining through heat. Such was the heat
generated by the burning timber that the greensand rock was
widely oxidised to a deep red wine colour. At Hembury this
1ha promontory enclosure appears to have enclosed, again
on the evidence of very limited excavation, an area subject
to intensive structural and pit-digging activity producing
very large quantities of cultural debris – and subject also,
apparently, to extensive burning.
The 1ha enclosure at Hembury is at the focus of an
altogether larger enclosure system, one element of which was
located by Liddell and which may indicate an enclosure of
as much as 3ha in extent. This outer earthwork comprising a
2m deep flat-bottomed ditch also betrayed traces of burning
and the apparent disruption of the bank-obstacle built on its

interior side, with additional traces of a possible timber-built
counterscarp feature as well.
Hembury bears ready comparison with a further group
of Neolithic enclosures to the southwest in Devon and
particularly Cornwall (Mercer 2003). The direct comparisons
are facilitated by a common suite of raw materials and fixed-
origin artefacts passing along exchange-lines that clearly
link the sites, and by common factors involving large outer
enclosures and the presence of evident archery-accompanied
attacks (Mercer 2003). For the purposes of this essay,
however, the second enclosure complex to mention is set
on the very edge of the Cotswold scarp near Cheltenham,
Gloucestershire. Like Hembury the site was excavated (by
Dr Philip Dixon, University of Nottingham) because of the
visible traces of an early first millennium fortification, the
remains of which were apparent from surface examination.
It was only after several seasons of work on the site that the
existence of an earlier, Neolithic, causewayed enclosure was
ascertained (there are a number of examples of this sequence
of events – Wheeler’s excavations at Maiden Castle, Dorset
being another). The sequence of events at Crickley Hill is,
however, of particular interest in the context of Hambledon
Hill as, unlike the absent ‘sequence’ at Hembury, largely a
product of limited excavation one suspects, at Crickley Hill
the excavation was on a very large scale and sequence is an
issue that has been well addressed. At Crickley Hill (Dixon
1988 and pers. comm.) the sequence is not yet tied to the
outcome of any available radiocarbon dating programme but
at its earliest stratigraphic point the only apparent structure
on this promontory site (once again with a massive vista
over the flat-land of the Severn flood plain) was a small,
insignificant almost, oval barrow with no archaeological
trace of any burial. This site was levelled (and the barrow’s
flanking ditches infilled) in order to allow the first phase
of ‘enclosure’ construction to begin. This phase (Dixon’s
lbi (1988)) was an initial circuit (?) of causewayed ditch
enclosing about 1ha (which was to become the inner ditch
as the nature of the site developed). The ditch was broad,
shallow and flat-bottomed with at least three, possibly five,
entrances aligned so as to focus on the centre of the enclosed
element of the promontory. The obstacle/bank of the
enclosure set on the interior side of the ditch was interpreted
as broad and low at the inner side of which, further from the
bank, were the post-sockets of a palisade that, to judge by
the depth of the sockets, was of no great height. It would
seem at least possible that this first stage of enclosure was
subject to attack (or at least targeting) by archers.
The second enclosure stage at Crickley Hill (Dixon’s lbii)
took the form of the digging, some 22 metres within the lbi
ditch, of a parallel set of pits which were somewhat deeper
and separated by a larger number of ‘causeways’, many of
them too small to be considered as access points. Three,
and probably four, causeways were, however, matched
by gate furniture, all of it aligned on the gates previously
established within the lbi circuit. The inner obstacle/bank
that lay within this circuit would appear, also, to have been
similar in design to Phase lbi. The emphatic change with this
second enclosure phase resides in the fact that at this time
the interior of the double enclosure appears to have been
furnished with a large number of integral post-supported
rectangular structures interpreted as houses.
It is this double obstacle (lbii) enclosure with ‘houses’
set in the interior (houses, the post-hole patterns of which
survived due to the unique circumstances at Crickley Hill
71
Mercer: The first known enclosures in southern Britain
where no cultivation has taken place) that is subject to what
appears to be the first full scale targeting by archers on
the site, after which the two ditches appear to have been
deliberately infilled with burning brushwood thrown into the
ditch and promptly buried with heat of sufficient intensity
generated to slake the surrounding limestone. Into this
backfilling, over a considerable period, five phases (Dixon’s
lci -v) of recutting, associated with deliberate deposits of
animal bone and pottery, were made.
After this interval, currently of unknown length, the
promontory is once again isolated by a single ‘uninterrupted’
continuous ditch with two causeways marking well-defined
gateways in the internal obstacle (Dixon, phase ld). The
ditch is, relatively speaking, massive, well over 2m in
depth, and curiously, where, in the process of its digging,
breakthroughs have been made into the earlier lbii ditch,
careful and illogical processes of blocking were undertaken
which, far from taking advantage of the apparently
accidentally discovered ‘vein’ of easy digging, chose to shut
it off and to continue to dig native bed-rock instead. This
act of ‘memorialisation’ is paralleled by the fact that with
this new barrier the two new causeways still focus on the
earlier disposition of two causeways on the site – that would
appear to represent a cultural continuum. The internal
obstacle constructed from the product of this ditch digging
was also, apparently, closely related to earlier concepts on
the site in producing a broad, low bank 0.5m in height by
some 10m in breath with a palisade on its innermost edge.
The gateways of the obstacle lie flanked by the inner and
outer ‘barbicans’ of timber-lined roadways that lead into
the interior where aligned house-type rectilinear structures,
ranging from 2×5m to 10×5m in size, are aligned upon them.
Apparently a settlement, other issues supervene, however,
as the occupation component is more or less confined to the
eastern sector of the enclosure (nearest the ditches) while
the western component seems to have been reserved to a
most complex series of ceremonial activities associated with
a range of platform-type structures where the immensely
careful excavational approaches of Dr Dixon have informed
an extraordinarily detailed account of Neolithic conduct on
and around them.
Once again phase ld appears to have been brought to a
violent end by a third attack of focused and intensive archery,
that, rather like Hembury, appears to be directed closely
upon the entrances and where the palisade at the inner face
of the ‘bank’ appears to have stopped many missiles (Dixon
1988). After this, apparently ultimate, phase of destruction
the site of Crickley Hill was deserted for many centuries.
Evidence of intensive burning was also recovered by
Sharples (1991:51) at Maiden Castle, Dorset. When
Wheeler (1943) excavated this site in the mid-1930s he
was astonished to locate, completely sealed beneath later
prehistoric earthworks (as at Crickley and Hembury above),
the intact and completely filled causewayed ditches of a
double Neolithic enclosure set at the eastern end of the hill.
Wheeler, anxious to prioritise his excavations, proceeded to
explore the Iron Age aspects of the site and did not accord
the filling of these ditches the degree of recording and
comment that he committed elsewhere, but he did record
an entrance through the causewayed ditches some 6m wide
with the ditches surviving to 1.5m in depth and enclosing
an area of about 4 hectares. Of the two ditches Wheeler
cleared about 70m aggregate length and the inner of them
was by far the richer in terms of the deposition of cultural
Enclosing the Past
debris. He found at least ten leaf arrowheads in the ditch,
mostly in the immediate locality of the eastern entrance. A
further five were located in the make up of the long mound
– presumably incorporated from the immediate locale
during the construction of this monument after the Neolithic
enclosure had gone out of use. Sharples records (1991:51)
that, in his trench, he located ‘midden’ debris (1991:253) the
deposits beneath which are, however, described as follows:
“At the base of the ditch were the chalk silts….. These
were probably deposited by rainwater almost immediately
after the ditch had been created. On top of these silts, and
intermingled with silt layers were the much thicker and
relatively unconsolidated layers of chalk rubble… The
rubble contained considerable quantities of charcoal, largely
mature oak, which was at least partially created by a fire
which had scorched many of the chalk blocks”. This sounds
(and looks in the published figures) very like the evidence
retrieved from Hambledon Hill which, there, is interpreted
as massive bank collapse induced by the burning of a timber
casing.
Further to the southwest the characteristic format of
causewayed ditch enclosed sites continues to its known
extent with the site at Raddon Hill, Devon (Oswald, Dyer and
Barber 2001:81, 150) set once again in the tilted off-summit
manner with which we are familiar. Here, however, like
Hambledon and Hembury (and possibly at Maiden Castle,
still to be recognised beneath later Iron Age complexity?)
and indeed at Crickley where the small enclosure at Birdlip
Camp may suggest an altogether more complex site, like
Hambledon, still to be discovered, this appears, possibly,
to be a mini-version of this layout. Here the 2ha main
enclosure sited squarely on the hill summit is accompanied
by a further apparently causewayed component (of as yet
unproven Neolithic date) which is tilted and offers enclosed
space outside the main enclosure – as at Hambledon and
Hembury, although on a lesser scale (Oswald Dyer and
Barber 2001:81). This pattern is continued into the furthest
part of the Cornish peninsula. However in this, generally
hard-rock region, the constructional format of the enclosures
changes, with boulder walls creating inner enclosures of
roughly 1ha extent, and then in two known instances (Carn
Brea: Mercer 1981; and Helman Tor: Mercer 1997, both in
Cornwall), there are known to be outer enclosures, boulder
built. In the case of Carn Brea, clearly defensive and built,
it would seem, at least partly upon an internal ‘stone-
box’ system, this offered enclosed space outside the inner
enclosure.
Certainly the site at Carn Brea exhibits extensive burning
and has produced vast numbers (over 800) of leaf arrowheads
which both in terms of their condition and circumstances
would appear to represent a site subject to massive archery
attack.
The sites at Carn Brea, Helman Tor, Hembury, Maiden
Castle and Hambledon (as well as other less major
interspersed sites not mentioned in this text, but see Mercer
2003) are linked by a common distributional pattern of
artefacts and raw materials apparently being circulated by
whatever mechanism over very considerable distances.
Materials are moving both eastward and westward – pottery,
flint, other quarried stone – and while these materials do pass
beyond Hambledon further into Wessex, those of westerly
origin begin to fall off sharply in frequency of retrieved
deposition.
Thus in the Southwest of England we appear to have
72
a series of enclosures linked by common, although not
universally common, links of situation, design, multiple
function, disposition to disturbance by violence and common
exchange patterns. This commonality of links, seems,
currently, to gradually break down beyond the ‘boundary
zone’ of the chalk massif of central Wessex. Does this
pattern reinforce the ‘frontier’ position of Hambledon Hill
itself? Does the ‘reversal’ of role and focus of Hambledon
from eastward to westward and from display/ceremonial
in focus to defensive/dominant focus through the middle
centuries of the fourth millennium BC reflect that ‘frontier’
position and its possible reversal by communities that we
know are in an energetic state of development on Cranborne
Chase (Barrett, Bradley and Green 1991), and further to the
northeast by the mid and later fourth millennium BC? The
forthcoming publication (Rawlins et al.) of a re-examination
of the site at Whitesheet Hill, Wilts, set 21km to the north
of Hambledon, again on the very junction of the Wessex
chalk and the Somerset lowlands, may serve to amplify this
account.
The focus to the east
Certainly, further to the east, causewayed enclosures
exhibit broadly similar overall enclosive design but perhaps
rather different layout, little evidence of violence, less
apparent functional variety, and different exchange linkages.
Let us examine these briefly.
It was Palmer (1976) who first suggested the division of
causewayed enclosures into four regional groups centred
on Sussex, the Thames valley, the East Midlands and the
Southwest of England which he recognised upon the grounds
of morphological analysis in which he saw, broadly, greater
complexity of layout in the Midlands and Thames than
further to the south and west. It is interesting to compare
this analysis with another, based upon an approach by Colin
Renfrew (1973) founded upon a purely spatial-proximity
analysis using the Thiessen polygon method that sought
to develop an understanding of “territories as revealed by
the location of causewayed enclosures in Wessex” (an area
that by and large has not seen a massive increase in their
numbers) as compared with the cluster of long-barrows that
surround them (or appear to), a linkage that has been lent
added intimacy as a result of the work at Hambledon Hill
itself. This study sees a complex of territories which are,
however, all shut off by polygons isolating the Southwest,
from Poole Harbour to the Cotswolds, from the rest of
southern England – the very hinterland over-viewed and
bounded by Hambledon Hill.
All of this is purely retrospective construct. Let us review
briefly what happens to the east of that quite ‘imaginary
line’.
To this point we have seen an aspect of early Neolithic
enclosure function in Britain which, whether at Crickley Hill,
Hambledon Hill, Hembury or enclosures of a rather different
character further to the southwest has an apparent unity of
conception, interlinkage and developing functionality that is
quite impressive. When we turn eastwards from Hambledon
Hill the degree of unity seems to change quite sharply.
The foundation of causewayed enclosure studies is the
work conducted by Alexander Keiller at Windmill Hill,
Wiltshire (Smith 1965). This site (Oswald et al. 2001)
seems to be sited in a manner well familiar at all upland

sites across southern Britain (including Hambledon, Maiden
Castle, Whitesheet, Crickley Hill and most of the Sussex
upland enclosures). The favoured location is a spur or ridge
with extensive views in one principal direction. In most
instances (although not at Hambledon Main Enclosure) the
enclosure is positioned in slightly ‘off-set’ tilted posture so
that it lies slightly off-summit in the direction on the view
commanded – thus presumably promoting the intervisibility
from each to the other. At Hambledon the main enclosure
does, just, reach on to the view-commanding slope but its
whole attention seems to be focused to the east whence it is
best, although incompletely, viewed from the opposing high
ground of Cranborne Chase – a feature observed at other
sites in Sussex and Wiltshire (Oswald et al. 2001:100).
At Windmill Hill this focus is to the north and all three,
inner, middle and site circuits are tilted in this way. But
at Windmill Hill, unlike any enclosure to the west, the
enclosure ditches are not ‘grouped’ in order to be mutually
reinforcing, whether psychologically or physically, nor are
they ‘focused’ at particular approaches to the eminence
upon which they are placed (as at Whitesheet, Hambledon,
Hembury and Maiden Castle). At Windmill a more or less
‘neutral’, ‘concentric’ pattern is adopted with, however, the
earthworks increasing in stature towards the outermost.
Once we come to examine the archaeology of the use of the
Windmill Hill enclosure, however, we observe a close accord
with aspects of activity, although not the dis-continuity, seen
in the Southwest. Smith’s (1965) account of the excavation
by Keiller, as well as Whittle’s smaller scale investigations
(Whittle et al.1999), indicates that feasting activity and
activity associated with the disposal of that feasting debris,
as well as the disposal of human remains, was a consistent
process mediated archaeologically by the repeated recutting
of ditch deposits and the placement of components of
this debris within those recuts. Under archaeological
examination these deposits may seem rich but when taken
in the context of the likely chronological longevity of the
site they may reflect only a very few episodes of celebration
every few years. At Hambledon Hill, for example, the
likely span of activity on the site as determined by precision
dating of all known components of the sequence is above
400 years. Whatever aspect of the material culture that one
chooses to examine over the whole complex at Hambledon
(lithics, pottery, bone) the outcome, having grossed up the
excavated sample to reflect the whole (known) extent of the
site, is tiny for any given notional ‘year’ of the complex’s
life: a few hundreds of struck flakes; or a kilogram or so of
sherds; maybe one of two animals. Such a crude approach
to figures (bearing in mind the pit-falls of taphonomy,
unknown site complexity, chronological uncertainty) would
be unforgivable were it not for the relatively large samples,
both spatial and chronological, examined at Hambledon.
The abiding impression is of a site little used, and when
used, it is for occupation for short periods, at specific
seasons, for short term ad hoc activities involving feasting
and deposition. By far the largest scale activity that we can
observe to have taken place at Hambledon is the successive
phases of rebuilding that it is difficult to conceive could
have taken less than a month or two at a time, and involved
less than ‘hundreds’ of people. Reverting to the opening
comments of this paper, enclosure creation appears to be an
end quite as important as use.
It is probably dangerous to embark further on this course
of enquiry with sites less adequately sampled, dated or
73
Mercer: The first known enclosures in southern Britain
documented, but impressionistically we can observe that
such very exiguous assemblages, per chronological range,
apply widely elsewhere with an emphasis that increases as
one moves further to the east (see below).
Another issue that relates to change as we move not only
from west to east, but from chalk upland enclosures to
the less elevated enclosures of eastern river valley is their
relationship with the contemporary landscape. Usually on
the basis of molluscan evidence, the upland enclosures at
Offham, Sussex (Drewett 1977), Windmill Hill, Hambledon
Hill, Maiden Castle are understood to have existed in
landscapes that fostered the prevalent presence of shade-
loving species. It would appear that these enclosures
were set in marginal woodland of greater or lesser density,
certainly not an environment created by the ruminant
animals that form the principal traces of meat consumption
on these sites. Again the impression gained from the whole
ambit of the evidence would suggest periodic visiting by
small groups to sites of prestigious status set in marginal,
indeed perhaps territorially peripheral, contexts – visits
during which food and objects brought from a distance
were consumed and/or deposited. The circumstances of the
excavation at Hambledon Hill both in terms of its scale, and
in terms of the potential for the survival of bone on the site,
have suggested a very strong link between these periodic
(perhaps in this instance seasonal) visits and the delivery
to the site (and perhaps the removal from it) of human
cadaveric and skeletal remains.
The site at Etton, Cambridgeshire is held by its excavator
(Pryor 1998) to parallel closely the activities reflected at
Hambledon, characterised by periodic visits with special
deposition episodes. Yet as we move into the valleys at
eastern England we encounter five sites apparently far
less dramatically sited, yet still in the case of Etton, at
Staines, Surrey (Robertson-Mackay 1987), possibly Orsett,
Essex (Hedges and Buckley 1978), and Haddenham,
Cambridgeshire (Evans and Hodder forthcoming and pers.
comm.) in ‘locally’ marginal locations. Yet these sites are
still the focus of some long-distance contact (in terms of
much worked down Group VI and VII axe fragments
from Etton), although there is relatively little evidence of
the widespread ceramic contacts witnessed at Hambledon
and Windmill Hill. Etton, on the basis of its radiocarbon
programme (Pryor 1998:349) which would indicate it to be
contemporary with the foundation phases at Hambledon,
would appear to be set at the margin of a landscape already
substantially cleared of trees.
If the eastern river valley enclosures are more locally
focused, commanding recognition among smaller, less
distantly derived, communities, then there is also evidence
that activity in their immediate vicinity was less intensive.
To examine this issue I have examined the worked flint
and flint implements upon those sites where the sample
was felt, upon inspection, to be soundly enough recovered
and recorded, and large enough to be indicative. The same
exercise could be undertaken with other materials but only
flint, it was felt, had the taphonomic resilience to allow
comparison between widely varying sites. The question
remains, of course, of the local availability of flint which
is difficult to assess, but in no instance is any of the sites
at considerably more than one day’s walk from a good
flint source – except, of course, those in Cornwall which,
in themselves, furnish an interesting object lesson in this
regard.
Enclosing the Past

There is no doubt that, often measuring excavated areas
on plan and counting finds lists may lead to error and I have
no doubt that error may have occurred here, but not such
error as could seriously impact upon the order of magnitude
of differences encountered. It can be suggested that rather
than calculating ‘area excavated’, one ought perhaps to
calculate ‘volume of archaeological deposit excavated’ (i.e.
take into account the depth and length of archaeological
features – ditches and pits – uncovered), but this exercise
only builds in its own biases and uncertainty.
The result is as set out below.

Site Area Total worked Total Implements Worked flint

Excavated m2 flint implements per m2 per m2
(approx) (as published.) (as published.)
Staines, Surrey 6,675 23,355 1,344 0.2 3.5
Abingdon, Oxfordshire 1,280 5,137 842 0.6 4.0
Orsett, Essex 1,725 1,637 64 0.03 0.9
Briar Hill, 14,196 2,815 868 0.06 0.2
Northamptonshire
Etton, Cambridgeshire 14,000 7,152 746 0.05 0.5
Haddenham, 8,878 2,245 c. 220 c. 0.025 0.25
Cambridgeshire
Offham, Sussex 4,780 6,830 23 0.005 1.42
Windmill Hill, Wiltshire 3,233 98,273 4,078 1.26 30.4
Hambledon Hill, Dorset 10,000 36,146 1,227 0.13 3.6
(Main Enclosure)
Hambledon Hill, Dorset 16,000 36,094 828 0.05 2.25
(Stepleton Enclosure)
Hembury, Devon 2,295 32,000 1,171 0.51 13.9
Helman Tor, Cornwall 72 1,371 233 3.24 19.0
Carn Brea, Cornwall 1,631 26,382 3,611 2.20 16.2
Hurst Fen, Suffolk 1,858 14,500 1,298 0.7 7.8

Table 5.1. Density per m2 excavated of the occurrence of worked flint and flint implements at a selection of Neolithic
enclosures in southern England. For site references see text, except Abingdon (Leeds 1927, 1928; Avery 1982).

The outcome of this exercise shows very clear distinctions
between the lithic assemblages and their intensity on the
examined sites. Those sites in the far Southwest of England
that I interpret as settlement sites, enclosed and lived in for
extended periods, despite their situation far from bedrock
deposits of flint, produce between 16–20 fragments of
worked flint per m2. This order of magnitude begins to
parallel that of European Neolithic settlement sites and
indeed those recognised elsewhere in Britain. Hembury,
Devon, is clearly closely related.
Hambledon Hill, well within the flint-rich zone stands at
2.0–6.6 items per m2. Then we are faced with the completely
exceptional nature of the Windmill Hill assemblage related,
presumably, to the massive flint working activity that has
been known since the 1920s on the southern slope of the
hill. Staines and Abingdon in the upper Thames valley
compare closely to Hambledon, whereas Offham, Sussex, at
1.4 items per m2, lies at approximately half the Hambledon
rate (yet, surely, in an area of equivalent flint availability).
When we reach the east of England we find, by comparison
tiny amounts of flint – a third to a tenth that of Hambledon.
Conclusion
Rog Palmer (1976) indicates, on the basis of the evidence
of the aerial photographic recording of causewayed
enclosures, by virtue of which the vast majority have been
discovered, that four morphological and territorial groups
exist. That grouping has been supported in a more recent
review of the evidence (Oswald et al. 2001). From my point
of view, as the excavator of Hambledon Hill, that four-fold
division is indeed powerful and suggests that Hambledon
itself was very much on a frontier – a frontier that continued
in time, although quite differently marked by the complex of
earthworks centring upon the Dorset Cursus on Cranborne
Chase – a frontier to be recognisable into the Iron Age. West
of that frontier complex events led to quasi-political unity
over long distances and equally quasi-political prominence
for some sites as ‘symbolic’ of the social solidarity that
they had come to represent. A recognisable approximation
to what we, today, call defence arose from this. These
influences created a complexity of sequence for sites in this
western area (including Crickley Hill, Hambledon, Maiden
Castle, Hembury and sites further west) that is reflected in
the variability of their archaeological expression. Across
the boundary to the east this complexity seems never to
have materialised during the earlier Neolithic. In Wessex
and Sussex similar isolated sites never took on the ‘career’
of western sites. Further to the east such central places were
also created but more locally focused, still marginally located
within their local communities but still the centre of only
occasional attention. Currently there is no reliable evidence
for chronological priority one way or the other. Nor is there

74

very much evidence as to what context these, clearly locally
focused, sites related. Our appreciation of their role now
relies upon further exploration of the hinterland of which
they were clearly only a part and the process of inter-and
intra-site chronological refinement only now becoming a
feasible prospect.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Christopher Evans and Ian Hodder
for a preview of an early draft of the Haddenham report and
Frances Healy for comment on this paper and her dedication
to the Hambledon project. The many faults remain my
own.
Bibliography
Avery, M. 1982. The Neolithic causewayed enclosure, Abingdon.
In H.J. Case and A.W. Whittle (eds.) Settlement Patterns in
the Oxford region: excavations at the Abingdon causewayed
enclosure and other sites, pp. 10–50. CBA Research Reports
44. London.
Bamford, H.N. 1985. Briar Hill. Northampton Development
Corporation Archaeological Monograph 3. Northampton.
Barrett, J., Bradley R. and Green M. 1991. Landscape, Monuments
and Society; the prehistory of Cranborne Chase. Cambridge:
University Press.
Dixon, P. 1988. The Neolithic settlements on Crickley Hill. In
C. Burgess, P. Topping, C. Mordant and M. Maddison (eds.)
Enclosures and Defences in the Neolithic of Western Europe,
pp.75–87. British Archaeological Reports, International Series
403. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.
Drewett, P. 1997. The excavation of a Neolithic causewayed
enclosure on Offham Hill, East Sussex, 1976. Proceedings of
the Prehistoric Society 43:201–241.
Evans, C. and Hodder, I. forthcoming. The Haddenham Project
Vol. 1.
Hedges, J. and Buckley, D.G. 1978. Excavations at a Neolithic
Causewayed Enclosure, Orsett, Essex, 1975. Proceedings of
the Prehistoric Society 44:219–308.
Leeds, E.T. 1927. A Neolithic site at Abingdon, Berks. The
Antiquaries Journal 7:438–464.
Leeds, E.T. 1928. Neolithic site at Abingdon, Berks: second
report. The Antiquaries Journal 8:461–477.
Liddell. D. 1930. Report on the excavations of Hembury Fort,
Devon, 1930. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological
Exploration Society 1:39–63.
Liddell, D. 1931. Report of the excavations at Hembury Fort,
Devon: second season 1931. Proceedings of the Devon
Archaeological Exploration Society 1:90–120.
Liddell, D. 1932. Report on the Excavations at Hembury Fort:
third season, 1932. Proceedings of the Devon Archaeological
75
Mercer: The first known enclosures in southern Britain
Exploration Society 1:162–190.
Liddell, D. 1935. Report on the excavations at Hembury Fort:
4th and 5th seasons, 1934 and 1935. Proceedings of the Devon
Archaeological Exploration Society 2:135–175.
Mercer, R.J. 1980. Hambledon Hill: a Neolithic landscape.
Edinburgh.
Mercer, R.J. 1981. Excavations at Carn Brea, Illogan, Cornwall
1970–73: a Neolithic fortified complex of the third millennium
bc. Cornish Archaeology 20:1–204.
Mercer, R.J. 1988. Hambledon Hill, Dorset, England. In C.
Burgess, P. Topping, C. Mordant and M. Maddison (eds.)
Enclosures and Defences in the Neolithic of Western Europe.
British Archaeological Reports, International Series 403:80–
106. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.
Mercer, R.J. 1997. The excavation of a Neolithic enclosure
complex at Helman Tor, Lostwithiel, Cornwall. Cornish
Archaeology 36:5–63.
Mercer, R.J. 2003. The early farming settlement of southwestern
England in the Neolithic. In I. Armit, E. Murphy, E. Nelis and
D. Simpson (eds.) Neolithic Settlement in Ireland and Western
Britain, pp. 56–70. Oxford.
Mercer, R.J and Healy, F. forthcoming. Excavation and Field
Survey on Hambledon Hill. English Heritage.
Oswald, A., Dyer, D. and Barber, M. 2001. The Creation of
Monuments: Neolithic causewayed enclosures in the British
Isles. Swindon: English Heritage.
Palmer, R. 1976. Interrupted ditch enclosures in Britain: the use
of aerial photography for comparative studies. Proceedings of
the Prehistoric Society 42:161–186.
Pryor, F.M.M. 1998. Etton: excavations at a Neolithic cause-
wayed enclosure near Maxey, Cambridgeshire, 1982–87.
Archaeological Report English Heritage 18. London: English
Heritage.
Rawlins, M.N et al. forthcoming. Excavations and survey
at Whitesheet Hill, Wiltshire, 1989–90. The Wiltshire
Archaeological and Natural History Magazine.
Renfrew, C. 1973. Monuments, mobilisation and social
organisation in Neolithic Wessex. In C. Renfrew (ed.) The
Explanation of Culture Change: models in prehistory, pp.
539–558. London.
Robertson-Mackay, R. 1987. The Neolithic causewayed enclosure
at Staines, Surrey: excavations 1961–63. Proceedings of the
Prehistoric Society 53:23–128.
Sharples, N.M. et al. 1991. Maiden Castle. Excavations and Field
Survey 1985–86. Archaeological Report Historic Buildings and
Monuments Commission for England 19. London: Historic
Buildings and Monuments Commission for England.
Smith, I.F. 1965. Windmill Hill and Avebury: excavations by
Alexander Keiller 1925–1939. Oxford.
Wheeler, R.E.M. 1943. Maiden Castle, Dorset. Research
Committee of the Society of Antiquaries of London Report 12.
Oxford.
Whittle, A.W.R., Pollard, J. and Grigson, C. 1999. The Harmony
of Symbols: the Windmill Hill causewayed enclosure, Wiltshire.
Oxford: Cardiff Studies in Archaeology.
6: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula
Michael Kunst
Abstract: Zambujal is a Copper Age fortified settlement
dated to the 3rd and 2nd millennia BC. Its fortifications show
a long history of repairs and modifications, but its basic
plan is that of an elliptical citadel situated on the western
slope of a hill close to the end of a small rocky promontory
which dominates the small valley of the brook ‘Ribeira
de Pedrulhos’. Up the hill there are several fortification
lines; to date, three are known. However, it is still unknown
whether these fortification lines were built in the form of
rings surrounding the citadel or if the lines only fortified
parts of the citadel, since the promontory offers natural
defence.
The modifications of the fortification lines imply strategic
plans and a society made up of commanders and commanded
people. This is also reflected by the distribution of the
material culture at the site as well as by grave architecture
and grave goods in other regions, which show a social
differentiation between elites and non-elites. Copper Age
fortifications are known in the southern half of the Iberian
Peninsula, from northern Portugal to the region of Alicante.
In some of these areas, regional studies show that larger
fortified sites together with smaller such sites seem to form
territories where the larger fortifications can be considered
as central places. At this same time, in the centre and south
of the Iberian Peninsula, there are known to be several
enclosures constructed by systems of ditches, and there are
also some places which show a combination of ditches and
walls. Until now there has been a lack of studies of Neolithic
settlements, although the excavations at Ambrona indicate
that some enclosure systems might have existed from the
Early Neolithic onward.
Key words: Zambujal, Portugal, 3rd millennium BC,
Copper Age, central place, fortification, radiocarbon
dates.
1. Zambujal
1.1. Situation of the site
The fortified site of Zambujal was discovered in 1932 by
Leonel Trindade from Torres Vedras (Kunst 1993). The name
Zambujal derives from the Portuguese word ‘azambuja’
meaning a wild olive tree; ‘zambujal’ means an assemblage
of such trees. Today there are only some of these trees left
at the bottom of the rocky outcrop on which the fortification
is situated, which is nearly 14km from the Atlantic Ocean.
The rocky outcrop is the end of a small promontory of hills
west of Torres Vedras, which dominate not only the small
valley of the brook Ribeira de Pedrulhos but also its mouth
into the river Sizandro, more or less 1km to the northwest,
and a part of the Sizandro river valley running into the
sea. The elevation of the end of the promontory over the
valley is about 70m. The coordinates of the site are: 39° 4’
28’’ latitude north and 9° 17’ longitude west of Greenwich
(Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:1–4).
76
The geo-archaeological investigations of 1986 indicate
that the Sizandro valley up to the mouth of the Ribeira
de Pedrulhos was an old sea-bay (Hoffmann 1990). In
the hinterland of Zambujal, nearly every 1.5km and along
the edge of the Sizandro valley, there are situated smaller
Copper Age settlements (Kunst and Trindade 1990:71). The
only one studied by modern excavations, Castro da Fórnea,
also shows some fortification structures (J.L. Gonçalves
1995:125–128). Zambujal is the largest of them all. It is also
situated closest to the sea and perhaps had direct access to
the sea via an old bay, which has totally disappeared through
sedimentation during the last 4000 years (Hoffmann 1990;
Kunst 1990:120–121).
1.2. Excavations up to 1973
After a first trial excavation in 1944, of a very small
trench made by L. Trindade (Jalhay 1947), Zambujal was
declared a ‘National Monument’ by the decree 35.817 of the
20th August 1946 (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:4). The
first large-scale excavations took place in 1959 and 1960
under the direction of L. Trindade and Aurélio Ricardo
Belo, the latter of whom was then responsible for the Torres
Vedras public library and the archaeological collection.
With of the death of A.R. Belo in 1961, the excavations
were halted. In 1963, L. Trindade invited Hermanfrid
Schubart from the German Archaeological Institute to
continue with the excavations at the site. Then, from 1964
to 1973, in collaboration with the Institute of Prehistory of
the University of Freiburg (Germany), H. Schubart and E.
Sangmeister, the latter of whom was then director of the
Freiburg Institute and a specialist of the Copper Age of
Southwest Europe, carried out six excavation campaigns at
Zambujal (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:5–7). To date
five monographs of the results of these excavations have
been published in the series Madrider Beiträge, volume 5
(Sangmeister and Schubart 1981; Kunst 1987; Sangmeister
and Jiménez Gómez 1995; Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003).
The most relevant publication to the question of enclosures
is the monograph on the architecture, stratigraphy and
chronology of Zambujal (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981).
E. Sangmeister and H. Schubart were able to identify
13 phases of construction, which could be grouped into
five main phases, or ‘conceptions of construction’. Their
arguments are based on stratigraphic observations, vertical
and horizontal, and on strategic considerations. The
best evidence for vertical stratigraphy was found around
the best preserved part of the citadel or the first line of
fortification, where walls were found preserved to a height
of up to 4 meters. Between these walls and the second line
of fortification, the stratigraphy from the surface to the
underground rock had a potential of up to 3 meters. One
of the best areas was the profile between Tower B and the
second fortification line, where a stratigraphic sequence
formed by several constructions is visible: at the bottom
is round house X; above that is round house V; and above
the latter, Tower B (Fig. 6.1). But there were also found
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

Figure 6.1. Area VX during the excavation of 1972: Tower B (on the right) on top of the wall of house V, and this on top of
house X, in the middle of the picture (D-DAI-MAD-R-69-72-01, photograph: P. Witte).
several other layers (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:50–
72). On the other hand, the walls were constructed in a
technique by which an outer and an inner face of the wall
were built by well-placed stones, normally slabs with a
well-faced outer edge. The space between these two layers
was filled by smaller, irregular stones. Instead of mortar
a yellowish clay was used as ‘cement’, as at Vila Nova
de S. Pedro and Los Millares. This clay is more compact
between the stones of the outer and inner faces of the walls
than in the filling; therefore, the clay of the filling has a
different colour than the clay between the stones of the outer
and inner faces (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:9). The
advantage of quicklime was obviously not known, because
there are no remains of it found either at Zambujal or at
any other Copper Age fortification in the Iberian Peninsula.
One consequence of the construction technique of the walls
was a certain instability. Several times an outer or an inner
face of the wall had been damaged and was repaired by
putting a new face in front of it as a kind of reinforcement.
Thus the walls not only grew over time (we can observe a
horizontal stratigraphy in the sequence of these faces), but
each new face is based on a layer which touches the next
older face of the wall (Fig. 6.2). In profiles and plans, the
three components, the well-positioned outer and inner faces
and the fill of the walls, as well as the layers of collapsed
wall, can easily be distinguished, as can other stratigraphic
layers and the inside and outside of architectural structures,
such as houses, towers, and doorways.
1.3. Relative chronology: phases of
construction
As a result of identifying these ‘stratigraphic’ features
(in a broad sense), Sangmeister and Schubart were able to
reconstruct five phases, each of which represents a different
defence system. In the first phase, the walls of Zambujal
represent a kind of labyrinth, where people had to pass
through several small courtyards, built by radial walls
between the different lines of fortification, before they could
enter the fortification core. This system is of the ‘labyrinth’
type (Fig. 6.3 A).

77
Enclosing the Past

Figure 6.2. Model of the horizontal and vertical stratigraphies of the walls of Zambujal. Each new face of a wall is based
on a new layer.
In a second phase, the radial walls were destroyed. “A large carried out by students of M. Korfmann in Tübingen
enclosure was built to the east of the central area of the main (Cordes, Gut and Schuhmacher 1990). This system can be
fortification. It consisted of a wall, only 1m thick, extending considered to belong to the ‘causewayed camp’ type (Fig.
eastwards and resting against the old, massive tower in the 6.3 B). We may note too the observation of Hans-Peter and
south and the reinforcement of the semi-circular tower in the Margarethe Uerpmann that there was an accumulation of
north” (Sangmeister and Schubart 1972:194). This system stone arrowheads in this ‘outer courtyard’, which supports
has been called an ‘outer courtyard’ (German Zwinger). their idea that the walls of Zambujal were true fortification
In this period the second line of fortification gained its walls and that they had sometimes served in a theatre of war
characteristic shape of a second circle around the inner core. (Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003:100–102).
Near its main entrance, several small doorways were broken It appears that the sophisticated defence system with ‘outer
through the walls. In addition, the ‘outer courtyard’ shows courtyards’ containing embrasures and corresponding small
small openings or ‘windows’ (Fig. 6.4). As these windows doorways in the outer fortification lines did not produce the
correspond, more or less, with the small doorways of the desired result. Perhaps that was the reason why a new defence
second line (Fig. 6.5), they were considered ‘loopholes’ strategy was developed. The beginning of the third phase
(Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:32–36), a hypothesis of Zambujal is defined by the construction of a new face
which was later tested and verified by an experiment outside the wall of the ‘outer courtyard’, with the resulting

78
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

Figure 6.3. The five phases of Zambujal according to the excavations of Sangmeister and Schubart (1964–1973) showing
different defence systems: A) phase 1 – labyrinth type; B) phase 2 – causewayed camp type; C) phase 3 – high platforms
type; D) phase 4 – round towers type; E) phase 5 – gigantic walls type.

disappearance of the loopholes. In addition, the small
entrances were closed in the second line of fortification, and
the doorways, the ‘outer courtyard’ and other open spaces
were filled by stones and earth. The results of these changes
were high platforms where the defenders of the fortification
could move and shoot enemies from above; we call this
system the ‘high platform’ type (Fig. 6.3 C).
The fourth phase is defined by the construction of round
towers on the edge of the platforms, so that they could be
laterally defended. This system we call the ‘round tower’
type (Fig. 6.3 D). The towers of this phase are hollow, as
their walls shows an inner and outer face and are unlike the
towers of the first phase, which are massive and solid.
The fifth phase belongs to the developed Bronze Age.
After a great destruction of the fortifications at the end of
phase 4, which resulted in a series of thick dark layers, a
new fortification was built on top of these layers with a very
thick wall. Some remains of narrow passages on top of the
wall of phase 4 are interpreted as the entrances through this
thick wall (Fig. 6.3 E).
1.4 Absolute chronology
In this article all radiocarbon dates are calibrated by
the radiocarbon calibration programme CALIB rev. 4.3

79
Enclosing the Past
Figure 6.4. Zambujal. The ‘outer courtyard’ with its loopholes after the restoration in 1970 (D-DAI-MAD-R-220-70-09,
photograph: P. Witte).
(copyright 2000 M. Stuiver and P. J. Reimer, to be used in
conjunction with Stuiver and Reimer 1993).
The first series of 16 radiocarbon dates published by
Sangmeister and Schubart (1981:263–275) date the phases
1c to 4c (Table 6.1). As these dates do not include either the
first phases nor phase 5, I looked for animal bone samples
and sent them to the laboratories at Cologne and Kiel (I
am very grateful to B. Weninger and P. Grootes who were
responsible for the new series). The Kiel dates – with their
laboratory numbers beginning with KIA – were done by
AMS. The series includes one date of a bone sample of
the older series – GrN-7008 (Table 6.2). One result from
these new dates is that the radiocarbon dates of the charcoal
samples are a little bit older than the bone dates (Figs. 6.6
80
and 6.7), for example, the charcoal date and that for bone
from the complex Z-1499 (Table 6.3).
This effect is well-known as the ‘old-wood effect’
(Waterbolk 1971:21–22; Breunig 1987:28; Warner 1990;
Stäuble 1995). Normally we do not know from which part
of a tree the charcoal pieces derive; therefore, they may date
some hundred years older than short-lived organic material
like animal bones or grains. However, the radiocarbon dates
from the charcoal samples (Fig. 6.6) are more coherent than
the radiocarbon dates of the bone samples (Fig. 6.8).
The diagram of Fig. 6.7 includes all the dates of which
the complex numbers are marked in bold-face in the list
above (Z-1180, Z-829, Z-1660, Z-705, Z-1499, Z-672, Z-
598 and Z-898). The others (Z-1562, Z-68204, Z-840, Z-
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

Figure 6.5. Zambujal. Plan of the ‘outer courtyard’ and the second fortification line with indication of the areas visible
through each loophole (after Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:34, Abb. 9).
1501 and Z-1169) are represented in Fig. 6.8. This Figure laboratory. The bones were washed and classified and
repeats the dates of Z-1180 and Z-898 to maintain the same then packed in big wooden boxes in the museum, ordered
time scale as in Fig. 6.7. What we see is a big disturbance according to their biological classification. Perhaps some
in the sequence of the dates. In comparison with the dates bones were incorrectly numbered? As there are thousands
of phase 2 (Fig. 6.7) the dates of phase 1a and 1c of Fig. of bones, this error cannot be excluded. Another possibility
6.8 are too young. On the other hand the dates of phase is the activity of dogs. They like to play with bones, and in
3c (Z-1501) and phase 5 (Z-1169) are too old. Therefore, a settlement like Zambujal they ‘excavate’ and bury bones.
we must look for reasons for these errors. I think that the This could have also happened during the Copper Age
main reason might be the treatment of the finds after the occupation of the site.
excavation. The charcoal samples were registered during Because of these problems we decided to excavate a new
the excavation, packed in small packages and sent to the stratigraphic section where our trenches articulated with the

81
Enclosing the Past

Lab.-No. Date BP cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) Probability Complex Phase

1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed distribution
2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed
KN-J-115 3530±65 (1 σ) 1938 – 1928 0.043 Z-79 3/4
1924 – 1767 0.919
1759 – 1752 0.038
(2 σ) 2029 – 1989 0.055
1983 – 1727 0.900
1723 – 1689 0.044
GrN-6668 3625±65 (1 σ) 2122 – 2097 0.114 Z-622 4c/d
2040 – 1885 0.886
(2 σ) 2196 – 2169 0.022
2144 – 1865 0.910
1843 – 1809 0.041
1801 – 1775 0.027
GrN-7007 C 3950±65 (1 σ) 2566 – 2520 0.222 Z-1509 4b
2498 – 2397 0.577
2384 – 2344 0.200
(2 σ) 2620 – 2609 0.011
2599 – 2586 0.009
2585 – 2276 0.949
2253 – 2229 0.021
2221 – 2206 0.011
GrN-6669 4025±95 (1 σ) 2857 – 2813 0.110 Z-633 4b
2735 – 2731 0.010
2697 – 2456 0.852
2419 – 2406 0.027
(2 σ) 2875 – 2797 0.112
2789 – 2301 0.888
GrN-7006 4090±40 (1 σ) 2855 – 2846 0.040 Z-1459 4a–c
2845 – 2815 0.193
2676 – 2573 0.715
2512 – 2502 0.052
(2 σ) 2864 – 2807 0.201
2778 – 2771 0.008
2760 – 2718 0.084
2706 – 2555 0.614
2538 – 2493 0.093
GrN-6670 4150±105 (1 σ) 2877 – 2655 0.847 Z-638 3c/4a
2655 – 2621 0.128
2608 – 2601 0.025
(2 σ) 3009 – 2985 0.008
2924 – 2460 0.992
GrN-7005 4055±40 (1 σ) 2827 – 2824 0.022 Z-1466 3c
2658 – 2652 0.030
2622 – 2606 0.144
2604 – 2554 0.417
2539 – 2493 0.386
(2 σ) 2856 – 2814 0.086
2696 – 2689 0.007
2682 – 2470 0.907
GrN-7004 3995±35 (1 σ) 2564 – 2522 0.594 Z-1470 3b
2497 – 2470 0.406
(2 σ) 2619 – 2610 0.013
2597 – 2592 0.004
2583 – 2456 0.977
2417 – 2409 0.006

82
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

Lab.-No. Date BP cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) Probability Complex Phase

1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed distribution
2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed
GrN-7003 4055±40 (1 σ) 2827 – 2824 0.022 Z-1540 3b
2658 – 2652 0.030
2622 – 2606 0.144
2604 – 2554 0.417
2539 – 2493 0.386
(2 σ) 2856 – 2814 0.086
2696 – 2689 0.007
2682 – 2470 0.907
GrN-7002 4050±40 (1 σ) 2656 – 2654 0.012 Z-1499 2
2622 – 2607 0.127
2602 – 2551 0.428
2541 – 2491 0.434
(2 σ) 2855 – 2814 0.071
2695 – 2695 0.001
2677 – 2468 0.928
GrN-6671 4170±55 (1 σ) 2877 – 2843 0.187 Z-700 2
2815 – 2672 0.813
(2 σ) 2884 – 2619 0.963
2610 – 2597 0.025
2591 – 2583 0.012
GrN-7009 4200±40 (1 σ) 2883 – 2858 0.216 Z-971 1c
2812 – 2746 0.579
2723 – 2699 0.205
(2 σ) 2893 – 2835 0.230
2819 – 2663 0.741
2648 – 2629 0.030
Table 6.1. Zambujal. The calibration results of 12 radiocarbon dates from the first published series of charcoal samples
from phases 1c to 4c (Sangmeister and Schubart 1981:263–275). Figures in bold indicate the most probable date range
according to the probability distribution.

83
Enclosing the Past

Lab.-No. Date BP cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) Probability Complex Phase

1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed distribution
2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed
KN-4507 3466±53 (1 σ) 1878 – 1840 0.289 Z-898 5
1827 – 1793 0.233
1782 – 1737 0.359
1711 – 1693 0.119
(2 σ) 1919 – 1680 0.970
1670 – 1658 0.015
1651 – 1637 0.016
KN-4506 3847±34 (1 σ) 2399 – 2380 0.133 Z-1169 5
2348 – 2276 0.570
2253 – 2229 0.189
2221 – 2205 0.108
(2 σ) 2457 – 2418 0.085
2407 – 2201 0.915
GrN-7008 3980±35 (1 σ) 2562 – 2523 0.514 Z-1501 3c
2496 – 2465 0.486
(2 σ) 2616 – 2614 0.001
2578 – 2431 0.943
2423 – 2403 0.035
2375 – 2375 0.001
2368 – 2366 0.003
2365 – 2352 0.016
KIA-7261 3842±37 (1 σ) 2398 – 2382 0.109 Z-598 2b/c
2346 – 2273 0.544
2255 – 2227 0.214
2223 – 2204 0.134
(2 σ) 2458 – 2416 0.082
2412 – 2199 0.914
2156 – 2154 0.004
KN-4989 3917±50 (1 σ) 2469 – 2395 0.567 Z-672 2
2394 – 2336 0.394
2319 – 2312 0.039
(2 σ) 2563 – 2523 0.052
2497 – 2279 0.911
2251 – 2231 0.025
2219 – 2209 0.011
KN-4990 3934±51 (1 σ) 2549 – 2543 0.028 Z-1499 2
2490 – 2476 0.065
2475 – 2396 0.584
2388 – 2339 0.309
2317 – 2313 0.014
(2 σ) 2572 – 2514 0.122
2502 – 2286 0.866
2247 – 2235 0.012
2215 – 2215 0.001
KN-4988 3980±40 (1 σ) 2567 – 2519 0.545 Z-705 2
2499 – 2462 0.455
(2 σ) 2617 – 2613 0.006
2580 – 2401 0.949
2378 – 2350 0.045
KIA-7257 3836±39 (1 σ) 2396 – 2385 0.072 Z-840 1c
2342 – 2269 0.506
2260 – 2203 0.422
(2 σ) 2457 – 2417 0.069
2409 – 2197 0.900
2163 – 2146 0.030

84
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

Lab.-No. Date BP cal BC (Calib 4.3) (Method B) Probability Complex Phase

1 sigma = 68.3% area enclosed distribution
2 sigma = 95.4% area enclosed
KIA-7256 3951±55 (1 σ) 2560 – 2535 0.147 Z-1660 1b
2534 – 2524 0.049
2496 – 2400 0.626
2379 – 2349 0.178
(2 σ) 2617 – 2612 0.004
2580 – 2287 0.992
2246 – 2240 0.004
KIA-7259 3801±43 (1 σ) 2295 – 2194 0.796 Z-68204 1a
2174 – 2143 0.204
(2 σ) 2455 – 2452 0.002
2426 – 2424 0.001
2403 – 2365 0.047
2353 – 2131 0.916
2081 – 2044 0.034
KIA-7258 3891±43 (1 σ) 2458 – 2395 0.479 Z-1562 1a
2395 – 2334 0.457
2320 – 2311 0.064
(2 σ) 2471 – 2274 0.929
2254 – 2228 0.046
2222 – 2205 0.025
KN-4509 3960±44 (1 σ) 2564 – 2522 0.305 Z-829 1a
2497 – 2455 0.410
2453 – 2432 0.111
2422 – 2404 0.122
2362 – 2353 0.052
(2 σ) 2576 – 2506 0.285
2505 – 2334 0.700
2321 – 2309 0.015
KIA-.7260 4134±43 (1 σ) 2862 –2826 0.212 Z-1180 before 1a/1a
2824 – 2808 0.091
2775 – 2775 0.005
2757 – 2720 0.217
2703 – 2657 0.274
2653 – 2622 0.186
2606 – 2603 0.015
(2 σ) 2875 – 2796 0.282
2791 – 2617 0.635
2612 – 2581 0.083

Table 6.2. Zambujal. The calibration results of radiocarbon dates from animal bone samples from the laboratories at
Cologne and Kiel. The Kiel dates – with their laboratory numbers beginning with KIA – were done by AMS. The series
includes one date of a bone sample of the older series (GrN-7008).

Lab.-No. Date BP cal BC (Calib 4.3) Probability Complex Phase

(Method B)
GrN-7002 4050±40 2860 − 2810 7.3% Z-1499 2
2680 − 2460 88.1%
KN-4990 3934±51 2580 − 2280 94.2% Z-1499 2
2250 − 2230 1.2%
Table 6.3. Zambujal. Comparison of the dates for the complex Z-1499 from a sample of charcoal (GrN-7002) with one of
bone from the complex (KN-4990).

85
Enclosing the Past

Figure 6.6. Zambujal. Calibration using the program CALIB of 12 radiocarbon dates from charcoal samples from phases
1c to 4d.

Figure 6.7. Zambujal. Calibration using the program CALIB of 8 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before
1a, 1b, 2 and 5.

86
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian peninsula
Figure 6.8. Zambujal. Calibration using the program CALIB of 7 radiocarbon dates from bone samples from phases before
1a, 1a, 1c, 3c and 5.
area excavated by Sangmeister and Schubart, and were thus
able to find the same layers classified by them. During the
last excavation campaign in 2002 we therefore started to
re-excavate the stratigraphy of the profile A 1 (Sangmeister
and Schubart 1981:74 and Taf. 102). In this area Schubart
and Sangmeister left an unexcavated area for the future.
Following their example, we also do not want to remove
it completely, so we will be excavating one meter behind
the published stratigraphy. All the earth will be flotated to
recover preserved organic matter. All sample locations for
radiocarbon dating will be coordinated in three dimensions;
soil and lithic samples will be geochemically analysed, and
some will be analysed by thin sections. We plan to collect
about five organic samples per layer for radiocarbon dating.
At the moment, our interdisciplinary team is working on
these analyses, and we hope to get the results within the
next two years.
We have reached some interesting conclusions based on
the radiocarbon dates published in this article. It appears
that the Copper Age settlement at Zambujal did not start
earlier than 2700 cal BC. There are only very few layers
left from a settlement phase before the building of the first
fortification walls. The only bone sample dated is Z-1180
(KIA-7260). All bone samples from phase 1 and 2 date to
between about 2500 and 2100 cal BC. Therefore, we have to
consider the likelihood that the beginning of the settlement
is not much earlier than 2500 cal BC. On the other hand,
the charcoal dates are a little bit older, although the date
for phase 1 is not much older than 2850 cal BC. Another
observation is that phases 1 to 3 are close in date, while
phase 4 lasts much longer, until 2000 cal BC, and possibly
until 1700 or 1600 cal BC. This would be consistent with
some finds of Bell Beaker pottery with incised decoration,
especially of the Montes Claros type (Kunst 1987, Taf. 5
and 24; Bubner 1981) or the Palmela complex (Harrison
1977:27–29). Phase 5 is the most recent phase (Fig. 6.7),
as also indicated by some pottery finds from the surface,
resembling pottery of Alpiarça dated to the latest Bronze
Age or Early Iron Age (Kunst 1995, 24 and 28, Fig. 6). The
87
find of a fibula without a spring in a new excavation area
below the rock-shelter (Kunst and Uerpmann 1996:32–35)
also point to an Early Iron Age date.
(After finishing the manuscript of this article in April 2004
and until now, a new series of 11 samples from the fourth
fortification line at Zambujal was dated by AMS. These
dates range from more or less 3100 to 1700 CalBC).
2. Excavations in 1994 and 1995
The most interesting result of the excavations carried out
in October 1994 and September 1995 (Kunst and Uerpmann
1996; Kunst and Uerpmann 2002) by the author together
with H.-P. Uerpmann from Tübingen, was the observation
that the settled area of Zambujal during the Copper Age was
much larger than previously thought. Surveys carried out
between 1982 and 1987 by the author with L.J.F. Trindade
as well as finds produced by the peasants working around
Zambujal had shown that there were Copper Age sherds
and stone implements scattered in the fields surrounding
the site. H.-P. and M. Uerpmann also recovered many
sherds in the area below the rock at the end of the small
promontory. These discoveries force us to ask the question:
were these stray finds artefacts that had fallen down from
the fortification above, or was there perhaps an unfortified
settlement around the fortification? On the other hand,
the plan of the fortification excavated by Sangmeister and
Schubart showed that the walls continued into the southern
valley (Fig. 6.3, B and C; Fig. 6.9), which meant that the
fortification might have also continued through the valley.
In this southern valley, but approximately 100m to the
east, a lot of Copper Age pottery was found by peasants
establishing a new vineyard. These finds could not be
explained as finds fallen down from the then-known
fortifications. New surveys in 1994 also detected many
Copper Age sherds in an area more or less 40 to 60 meters
uphill east of the third line of fortification. In 1995, after we
had cleared that area of its undergrowth, we found a smooth
Enclosing the Past
Figure 6.9. Zambujal. Air photograph from southwest to northeast with the excavation of the 4th fortification line at the end
of July 2002 (D-DAI-MAD-KB-29-02-08, photograph: author).
elevation, where we located an excavation trench. Under
the surface a wall with several faces appeared, constructed
in the same manner as the walls excavated by Sangmeister
and Schubart.
H.-P. Uerpmann located, in 6 small trenches in the area
below the rocky end of the promontory, signs of settlement
in that area (Fig. 6.10). In trench C, in particular, he found
large fragments of bowls with thick inverted rims, typical
of the Portuguese Copper Age (Kunst and Uerpmann
2002:109), and many of the sherds found in that area have
well-preserved surfaces, which means that they cannot
be considered as eroded from the settlement above the
promontory. Unfortunately, the owner of the land refuses at
present to allow further excavation in that area.
In 1994 and 1995, excavations were also carried out in
the area of the still partly inhabited farm-house, as the town
of Torres Vedras and the IPPAR (Instituto Português do
Património Arquitectónico e Arqueológico) plan to build an
archaeological park at Zambujal and to convert the farm-
house into a small museum. It is therefore necessary to
excavate in the area of the farm-house. The northern part of
this so-called ‘casal’ has been abandoned for about 30 years
and is now partly ruined. Unexpectedly, the excavations
uncovered several remains of fortification walls as well as
walls from round houses. To connect the archaeological
remains from the ‘casal’ area with the chronology of the first
and second line of fortification it was necessary to excavate
in the area between the ‘casal’ and the big block of the first
fortification line, with the so called ‘outer courtyard’. It was
really a stroke of unexpected good luck that remains of the
88
walls we were looking for survived. In the aerial photograph
the continuation of the fortification walls of the core area is
easy to see. They lead directly into the northernmost part of
the farm-house where they turn a corner, and then continue
to the southwest, where they cross again below the walls of
the ‘casal’ (Fig. 6.11).
3. Excavations in 2001 and 2002
In July 2001 and from May to July 2002, excavations
were concentrated in the area approximately 60 meters
to the east of the third fortification line. There we found
another area of fortification, which we called the fourth line
(Fig. 6.12). It consists of a first hollow wall of a thickness
(from its outer to inner face) of about 1 meter. It shows
two small entrances, which were later closed and turned
into hollow towers. Over time the walls grew, and several
new faces were created at their outer and inner sides. In the
aerial photograph of this fourth line, at the lower edge of
the photo, two trenches without any architectural structures
can also been seen. They were dug at two localities where
a geomagnetic survey had detected magnetic anomalies, but
the anomalies had nothing to do with the Copper Age site.
It is interesting, however, to see that there were also open
places, without buildings, inside the fortification.
These new results have modified the plans of Zambujal
from Sangmeister and Schubart (Fig. 6.3). Now the core
area is more or less elliptical or ‘egg-shaped’, and there
exists a fourth line of fortification (Fig. 6.13). Fig. 6.13 is
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

Figure 6.10. Zambujal, October 1994. Air photograph from north to south of the end of the promontory on top of which
the Copper Age fortification is situated (in the top left corner of the picture). In the middle of the right part of the picture
there is a small hut, which was built for the excavation of H.-P. Uerpmann around the vineyard surrounded by a white ribbon
(photograph: author).
based on the reconstruction of phase 2c (Sangmeister and
Schubart 1981:238). As the fourth fortification line also
shows small entrances in its oldest core, and inside this wall
was also found a large fragment of a cylindrical vessel, or
‘copo’, typical of the early Copper Age of Portugal (Soares
and Tavares da Silva 1975:119 and 151), I propose to date it
to phase 2, although this is still hypothetical. The younger
phases of the fourth line are marked in grey, whereas they
are not marked in the rest of the fortification, to make it
easier to understand the plan. With this fourth fortification
line we might estimate the fortified area of Zambujal to be
much larger than earlier thought, perhaps something like 7
or 8 acres. However, about 30 meters uphill to the east, near
the right border of the photo of Fig. 6.9, there is another
concentration of stones in the field and another flat-topped
rise, so perhaps these constitute yet another fortification
line.
4. Copper Age fortifications in the
Iberian Peninsula
Copper Age fortifications, such as Zambujal, are known
from the south of the Iberian Peninsula, more or less between
northern Portugal and Alicante (Spain) (Arteaga 2001:183,
Abb. 2; Jorge, S. 1994:463, fig. 1; Kunst 2001:68, Karte
9). Up until now, the Portuguese fortifications have been
considered to be relatively small in area. On Table 6.4
are listed some measurements based on published plans
(with the exception of Alcalar, whose measurements were
given by E. Morán), with the sites ordered from smallest to
largest.
An exception is Alcalar, with the largest Copper Age
cemetery in Portugal (megalithic and corbelled tombs),
known since the 19th century (Veiga 1886, 1889). Plans of
the site were published in the late 1970s (Silva and Soares
1977; Arnaud and Gamito 1978). A new project at Alcalar,
under the direction of R. Parreira (Parreira and Serpa 1995)
and, more recently, with E. Morán, estimate an area of more
or less 50 acres for the fortified settlement and its system of
huge ditches (Morán and Parreira 2003).
Based on the new excavations at Zambujal we must
estimate a larger area, with the fourth line of fortification and
possibly even a fifth one, as well as the settled area below
the promontory. The area within the fourth line could be
double the area estimated to date, that is approximately 6.6
acres. With a fifth line this grows to 12 acres, with the area
below the rock making it even larger. All these estimations
are, however, very hypothetical until excavations have
determined the true extent of Zambujal.
In the case of Leceia, the possibility of a fourth fortification
line cannot be excluded, as a building has been published
(structure FM), dated to the Bell Beaker period, outside the
third fortification line of that site (Cardoso 1997:28–30;
Cardoso 2001:141–147). This is similar to the case of hut
10 (cabana 10) at Santa Justa (Gonçalves, V. 1991:190–
191). Another example is Vila Nova de S. Pedro, where
most excavations had been concentrated in the core area

89
Enclosing the Past

Figure 6.11. Zambujal. Air photograph of the 1st and 2nd fortification lines at the end of the excavation in the beginning of
October 1995. The 1st fortification line continues through the northern part of the farmhouse (D-DAI-MAD-KB-29-95-20A;
photograph: author).

Site name Approximate area in Bibliography

acres
Santa Justa (Alcoutim) 0.2 Gonçalves, V. 1991:177–330
Monta da Tumba (Torrão) 0.2 da Silva & Soares 1985; da Silva & Soares 1987
Castelo Velho de Freixo de Numão 0.6 Jorge, S. 1993; Jorge, S. 1999
(Vila Nova de Foz Côa)
Columbeira (Bombarral) 0.7 Schubart 1970; Gonçalves, J.L. 1994
São Brás (Serpa) 1.0 Parreira 1983
Leceia (Oeiras) 2.5 Cardoso 1994; Cardoso 1997
Vila Nova de S. Pedro (Azambuja) 3.3 do Paço & Sangmeister 1956; Savory 1972;
Arnaud & Gonçalves, J.L. 1990
Zambujal (Torres Vedras) (without 3.3 Sangmeister & Schubart 1981
the 4th fortification line)
Monte da Ponte (Évora) 8.0 Kalb & Höck 1997:14–17; Becker 1997:29–34
Alcalar (Portimão) 50.0 Parreira & Serpa 1995; Morán & Parreira 2003

Table 6.4. The areas of Portuguese fortifications based on published plans (with the exception of Alcalar), ordered from
smallest to largest.

90
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

Figure 6.12. Zambujal. Air photograph of the 4th fortification line at the end of the excavation at the end of July 2002 (D-
DAI-MAD-KB-29-02-20, photograph: author).
with the outer fortification lines never published and only Alcores (Arteaga et al. 1986; Arteaga et al. 1991:298–299).
indicated by superficial observations (Savory 1972:24–25). To date, the best studied Copper Age site with the largest
V. Gonçalves conducted excavations in 1985 and 1986 at cemetery of corbelled graves is Los Millares (Santa Fé de
the 2nd and 3rd lines of fortification (Gonçalves V. 1994:49), Mondujar, Almería) (Almagro and Arribas 1963; Arribas
but they remain unpublished. These observations suggest et al. 1985; Molina 1989). The fortified area is not much
that future investigations might locate even larger fortified larger than Zambujal with its fourth fortification line, and
Copper Age settlements in Portugal than previously is estimated to be 5 acres, although the necropolis occupies
estimated. another 30 acres (Arribas et al. 1979:61), and the entire
Located in the south of Spain, in Andalucía, are the largest area is surrounded by 11 small citadels, called ‘fortines’, in
Copper Age settlements known to date, such as Marroquíes Spanish (Arribas et al. 1985; Molina 1989).
Bajos, Jaén (Zafra, Hornos and Castro 1999) with an area of These large fortifications were considered to be central
about 87 acres. O. Arteaga indicates that there are very large places (Parreira 1990:34; Parreira and Serpa 1995;
Copper Age settlements with fortifications near Porcuna Uerpmann 1995; Kunst 1995b; Morán and Parreira
(Jaén) at the Cerro de El Albalate and the Cerro de los 2003:313), particularly as in some regions a system of

91
 Enclosing the Past

92
Figure 6.13. Zambujal. Schematic plan of phase 2 (black) with indication of later constructions at the 4th line (grey)
(drawing by G. Casella).
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula

hierarchically organised, dependent settlements has been

indicated, such as Zambujal with its ‘hinterland’ (Kunst
1990; Kunst and Trindade 1990). Some have argued that
these settlement systems represent early states (Nocete
1994; Arteaga 2001; Morán and Parreira 2003:323–324).
One of the big uncertainties of this model is that we do not
have any written sources from this period in the Iberian
Peninsula, and there are no recording systems known, as in
the Neolithic of the Near East (Schmandt-Besserat 1979).
An exception might be the decorated schist plaques found
in many megalithic tombs (Leisner and Leisner 1951) as
well as in some Copper Age fortifications like Zambujal
(Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003, Tafel 32, T 253 and 1377).
Katina Lillios has pointed out that the decoration of these
plaques could be a recording system, perhaps of genealogies
of the dead (Lillios 2002).
On the other hand, we could conclude that the Copper Age
of the Iberian Peninsula was a time of conflict. Perhaps after
the first agricultural communities during the Neolithic, in
the 6th millennium BC., there was an increase in population
which peaked in the 4th and 3rd millennia B.C. There are
many signs of violence in this period, especially in northern
Spain, and the increase in stone fortifications during the 3rd
millennium B.C. may be evidence of war (Armendáriz, M.
Irigaray and S. Irigaray 1995; Vegas 1999; Kunst 2000).
In section 1.3 of this article I mentioned the fact that there
is an increase in flint arrowheads in the ‘outer courtyard’ of
Zambujal and in the area between first and second line of
fortification, which might have been the result of warfare
(Uerpmann and Uerpmann 2003:100–102).
The fact that possibly more valuable items were found
in the core areas of these sites may be interpreted as social
differentiation inside such fortifications. For example, in the
case of Zambujal, Bell Beaker pottery accumulates in the
core area, especially in houses involved in copper production,
and metal finds are also more frequent in that area (Kunst
1998). In general, it is obvious that there are differences
in grave goods and especially in the grave architecture. At
Valencina de la Concepción, for example, the huge tombs
have long corridors and small chambers, perhaps constructed
for only a small group of very rich people. The same is
also observed in monument 7 at Alcalar (Parreira and Serpa
1995:240–241). Smaller tombs may contain the remains of
many individuals (Arteaga and Cruz-Auñón 1999a; Arteaga
and Cruz-Auñón 2001). We may conclude that significant
differentiation of elites and other social groups existed in the
Iberian Copper Age, and metal goods was only one class of
objects, among others, by which these elites distinguished
themselves. I do not want to go into more detail on this
subject, as the question of elites could be the subject of its
own article. There is a great deal of literature on this subject
(e.g. Gilman and Thornes 1985:183–189; Gilman 1987;
Chapman 1990:174; Parreira 1990; Gilman 1991; Nocete
1994; Arteaga 2001:177–185).
On the other hand, these stone fortifications are not the
only type of enclosures in the Iberian Peninsula. There
are also many ditched enclosures such as Perdigões, in
the Portuguese Alentejo (Lago et al. 1998), or the still
Figure 6.14. La Revilla del Campo, Ambrona (Miño de
unpublished site of Santa Vitória at Campo Maior, District
Medinaceli, Soria, Spain). Excavated part of an enclosure
of Portalegre (Ana Mousa Carvalho Dias, pers. com.);
of the 6th millennium BC (after Kunst and Rojo in Madrider
sometimes they are of considerable size. Very interesting
Mitteilungen 46, drawing by L. de Frutos).
work on these enclosures has recently been published (Días-
de-Río 2003). In Andalucía, in particular, there are some
very large enclosures of this type (Márquez Romero 2003),

93
Enclosing the Past
such as Papa Uvas (Huelva) (Martín de la Cruz 1985) and
La Pijotilla (Hurtado 1997), in the Spanish Extremadura.
Perhaps the most important site is Valencina de la Concepción,
although at this site it is unclear whether there had been a
stone fortification or not, because the centre of the Copper
Age settlement is situated beneath the modern town. O.
Arteaga argues in this special case that it was a central place
with a concentration of political power. Outside a very large
ditch, hundreds of storage pits were excavated (Arteaga and
Cruz-Auñón 1999b; Cruz-Auñón and Arteaga 1999), and
outside that area was a cemetery area with very large burial
mounds (Arteaga and Cruz-Auñón 2001).
J.E. Márquez Romero argues that these ditched enclosures
might not have been settlements, and particularly not
fortifications, but ritual places or places of other types
of communication (Márquez Romero 2003). There are
archaeologists who even interpret those enclosures with stone
architecture as ritual sites, and who suggest that the function
of their stone architecture serves only to monumentalise the
place (S. Jorge 1999). On the other hand, in the centre of
the Iberian Peninsula there are also some enclosures with
ditches and without stone walls that have been recently
excavated in the region of Madrid: Gózquez de Arriba (San
Martín de la Vega); Las Matillas (Alcalá de Henares); and
Fuente de la Mora (Leganés). Radiocarbon dates show that
they are from the first half of the 3rd millennium cal BC
(Díaz-del-Río 2003, 71–74). P. Díaz-del-Río pointed out
that in Gózquez de Arriba and also Fuente de la Mora there
existed a permanent settlement inside the enclosures (Díaz-
del-Río 2003:74).
Perhaps there was a long tradition in constructing
enclosures in the Iberian Peninsula. In our excavations at
the site La Revilla del Campo, an Early Neolithic settlement
of the 6th millennium BC we found remains of an enclosure
made by two small parallel ditches (Fig. 6.14), perhaps the
remains of a palisade (Kunst and Rojo in press).
Conclusions
There is still not much known about Neolithic settlements
in the Iberian Peninsula. The reason is, in my opinion, a
methodological one. To date not many extensive excavations
have been carried out. Only now, with an increase of modern
construction, such as highways and new urbanisation, and
the preservation of historic buildings and monuments and
especially archaeological monuments, extensive excavations
are becoming more common. And these, like the cases of
Gózquez de Arriba, Fuente de la Mora and Las Matillas,
greatly increase our knowledge of large open air sites. In
Andalucía, excavations of larger areas must be carried out
at enclosure sites like, for example, Papa Uvas mentioned
above (Martín de la Cruz 1985).
We can see that the last word has not been said on the
Copper Age enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula. However,
the example of Zambujal clearly shows that the function of
the walls must be reckoned to be for defence, particularly
during a period in which such constructions increase in the
southern part of the Iberian Peninsula. On the other hand,
it may be that not all enclosures were built for the same
purpose (Márquez Romero 2003), as the Iberian Copper Age
is a complex and highly regionalised society with certain
characteristics of early states (Arteaga 2001; Chapman
1990; Gilman and Thornes 1985; Gilman 1991; Nocete
1994; Parreira 1990).
94
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Katina Lillios for her correction of
the English text.
Bibliography
Almagro, M. and Arribas, A. 1963. El poblado y la Necrópolis
megalíticos de Los Millares (Santa Fe de Mondújar, Almería).
Bibliotheca Praehistorica Hispana III. Madrid.
Armendáriz, J., Irigaray, M. and Irigaray, S. 1995. Violencia y
muerte en la prehistoria: el Hipogeo de Longar. Revista de
Arqueología 168:16–29.
Arnaud, J. Morais and Gamito, T. Júdice 1978. Povoado Calcolítico
de Alcalar: notícia da sua identificação. Anais do Municipio
de Faro 8:275–288.
Arnaud, J. Morais and Gonçalves, J. L. Marques 1990. A
fortificação pré-histórica de Vila Nova de S. Pedro (Azambuja):
balanço de meio século de investigações. 1ª Parte. Revista
de Arqueologia da Assembleia Distrital de Lisboa, Serviço de
Cultura 1:25–48.
Arribas, A., Molina, F., Sáez, L., Torre, F. de la, Aguayo, P. and
Nájera, T. 1979. Excavaciones en Los Millares (Santa Fe,
Almería): campañas de 1978 y 1979. Cuadernos de Prehistoria
de la Universidad de Granada 4:61–110.
Arribas, A., Molina, F., Carrión, F., Contreras, F., Martínez, G.,
Ramos, A., Sáez, L., Torre, F. de la, Blanco, I. and Martínez, J.
1985. Informe preliminar de los resultados obtenidos durante
la VI campaña de excavaciones en el poblado de Los Millares
(Santa Fe de Mondújar, Almería). Anuario arqueológico de
Andalucía 1985 2:245–262.
Arteaga, O. 2001. Fuente Álamo im Territorium von El Argar:
eine Auseinandersetzung mit dem ‘Paradigma des Südostens’
aus der Perspektive des atlantisch–mediterranen Südwestens
der Iberischen Halbinsel. In H. Schubart, V. Pingel and O.
Arteaga Fuente Álamo. Teil I: Die Grabungen von 1977 bis
1991 in einer bronzezeitlichen Höhensiedlung Andalusiens,
pp. 161–203. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.
Arteaga, O. and Cruz-Auñión, R. 1999a. El Sector Funerario
de ‘Los Cabezuelos’ (Valencina de la Concepción, Sevilla):
resultados preliminares de una excavación de urgencia.
Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1995 3:589–599.
Arteaga, O. and Cruz-Auñón, R. 1999b. Una valoración del
‘Patrimonio Histórico’ en el ‘Campo de Silos’ de la finca
‘El Cuervo-RTVA’ (Valencina de la Concepción, Sevilla):
excavación de urgencia de 1995. Anuario arqueológico de
Andalucía 1995 3:608–616.
Arteaga, O. and Cruz-Auñón, R. 2001. Las nuevas sepulturas
prehistóricas (tholoi) y los enterramientos bajo túmulos
(tartesios) de Castilleja de Guzmán (Sevilla): excavación
de urgencia de 1996. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía
1996:701–710.
Arteaga, O., Nocete, F., Ramos, J., Recuerda, A. and Roos, A.M.
1986. Excavaciones sistemáticas en el Cerro de El Albalate
(Porcuna, Jaén). Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1986
2:395–400.
Arteaga, O., Ramos Muñoz, J., Roos, A.M. and Nocete Calvo,
F., 1991. Balance a medio playo del “Prozecto Porcuna”:
Campaña de 1991. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1991
2: 295–301.
Becker, H. 1997. Geophysikalische Prospektion in Vale de
Rodrigo, Concelho Évora, Portugal. Madrider Mitteilungen
38:21–35.
Breunig, P. 1987. 14C-Chronologie des vorderasiatischen, südost-
und mitteleuropäischen Neolithikums. Fundamenta Reihe A,
Band 13. Köln, Wien.
Bubner, T. 1981. Zur Entstehung und Ausbreitung der
Glockenbecherkultur. Acta Praehistorica et Archaeologica
11/12:43–53.
 Kunst: Zambujal and the enclosures of the Iberian Peninsula
Cardoso, J.L. 1994. Leceia 1983–1993. Escavações do povoado
fortificado pré-histórico. Estudos Arqueológicos de Oeiras
número especial. Oeiras.
Cardoso, J.L. 1997. O povoado de Leceia (Oeiras), sentinela do
Tejo no terceiro milénio a.C. Lisboa, Oeiras.
Cardoso, J.L. 2001. Le phénomène campaniforme dans les basses
vallées du Tage et du Sado (Portugal). In F. Nicolis (ed.) Bell
Beakers today: pottery, people, culture, symbols in prehistoric
Europe. Proceedings of the International Colloquium, Riva del
Garda (Trento, Italy) 11–16 May 1998, pp. 139–154. Trento.
Chapman, R.W. 1990. Emerging complexity: the later prehistory
of south-east Spain, Iberia and the west Mediterranean. New
Studies in Archaeology. Cambridge, New York, Port Chester,
Melbourne, Sydney.
Cruz-Auñón, R. and Arteaga, O. 1999. Acerca de un campo de
silos y un foso de cierre prehistóricos ubicados en ‘La Esacada
Larga’ (Valencina de la Concepción, Sevilla). Excavación de
urgencia de 1995. Anuario arqueológico de Andalucía 1995
3:600–607.
Cordes, K., Gut, A. and Schuhmacher, T. 1990. Zur Frage der
‘Schieß-Scharten’ in Zambujal. Madrider Mitteilungen
31:83–108.
Díaz-del-Río, P. 2003. Recintos de fosos del III milenio AC en la
Meseta Peninsular. Third millennium BC ditched enclosures in
Central Iberia. Trabajos de Prehistoria 60/2:61–78.
Gilman, A. 1987. Unequal development in Copper Age Iberia. In
E.M. Brumfiel, and T.K. Earle, (eds.) Specialization, Exchange,
and Complex Societies, pp. 22–29. Cambridge.
Gilman, A. 1991. Trajectories towards social complexity in
the later prehistory of the Mediterranean. In T. Earle (ed.)
Chiefdoms: power, economy, and ideology. A School of
American Research book, pp.146–168. Cambridge.
Gilman, A. and Thornes, J.B. 1985. Land-use and Prehistory in
south-east Spain. The London Research Series in Geography.
London.
Gonçalves, J.L. Marques 1994. Castro da Columbeira: uma
primeira fase do Calcolítico médio estremenho? Al-Madan
série 3:5–7.
Gonçalves, J.L. Marques 1995. O povoado fortificado da Fórnea
(Matacães – Torres Vedras). In M. Kunst (ed.) Origens,
Estruturas e Relações das Culturas Calcolíticas da Península
Ibérica. Actas das I Jornadas Arqueológicas de Torres Vedras,
3 a 5 de Abril de 1987. Trabalhos de Arqueologia 7:123–140.
Lisboa.
Gonçalves, V. dos Santos 1991. Megalitismo e metalurgia no Alto
Algarve oriental: uma aproximação integrada 1. Uniarch
estudos e memórias 2. Lisboa.
Gonçalves, V. dos Santos 1994. O Castelo de Vila Nova de S.
Pedro: um típico povoado calcolítico fortificado do 3.º milénio.
In Lisboa Subterrânea, 26 de Fevereiro a 31 de Dezembro
1994, pp. 49–51. Lisboa.
Harrison, R.J. 1977. The Bell Beaker Cultures of Spain and
Portugal. American School of Prehistoric Research,
Peabody Museum, Harvard University, Bulletin. Cambridge
(Massachusetts).
Hoffmann, G. 1990. Zur holozänen Landschaftsentwicklung
im Tal des Rio Sizandro (Portugal). Madrider Mitteilungen
31:21–33.
Hurtado, V. 1997. The Dynamics of the occupation of the middle
basin of the river Guadiana between the fourth and second
millennia BC. In M. Díaz-Andreu and S. Keay (eds.) The
Archaeology of Iberia: the dynamics of change, pp. 98–127.
London - New York.
Jalhay, E. 1947. O monumento pré-histórico do Casal do Zambujal
(Tôrres Vedras): contribuição para o estudo da Idade do
Bronze. In Homenaje a Julio Martínez Santa-Olalla II.
Actas y Memorias de la Sociedad Española de Antropología,
Etnografía y Prehistoria 22:78–85. Madrid.
Jorge, S. Oliveira 1993. O povoado de Castelo Velho (Freixo de
Numão, Vila Nova de Foz Côa) no contexto da pré-história
95
recente do Norte de Portugal. In 1º Congresso de Arqueologia
Peninsular (Porto, 12–18 de Outubro de 1993). Actas II =
Trabalhos de Anthropologia e Etnologia 33/3–4:179–216.
Jorge, S. Oliveira 1994. Colónias, fortificações, lugares monu-
mentalizados. Trajectória das consepções sobre um tema do
calcolítico peninsular. Revista da Faculdade de Letras (II
Série) Porto 11:447–546.
Jorge, S. Oliveira 1999. Castelo Velho de Freixo de Numão (Vila
Nova de Foz Côa, Portugal). Geschichte der Interpretations-
versuche. Madrider Mitteilungen 40:80–96.
Kalb, P. and Höck, M. 1997. Untersuchungen im Megalithgebiet
von Vale de Rodrigo, Concelho Évora, Portugal. Madrider
Mitteilungen 38:1–20.
Kunst, M. 1987. Zambujal: Glockenbecher und kerbblattverzierte
Keramik aus den Grabungen 1964 bis 1973. Madrider Beiträge
5, Zambujal Teil 2. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.
Kunst, M. 1990. Sizandro and Guadiana rivers: a comparison as
example of the interdependence between the development of
settlement and the natural environment. In Arqueologia Hoje
1, Etno-Arqueologia, pp. 118–131. Faro.
Kunst, M. 1993. Mauern und Türme der Kupferzeit. In H.
Schubart, A. Arbeiter and S. Noack-Haley (eds.) Sternstunden
der Archäologie: Funde in Portugal, pp. 47–67. Göttingen.
Kunst, M. 1995a. Cerâmica do Zambujal: novos resultados para a
cronologia da cerâmica calcolítica. In M. Kunst (ed.) Origens,
Estruturas e Relações das Culturas Calcolíticas da Península
Ibérica. Actas das I Jornadas Arqueológicas de Torres Vedras,
3 a 5 de Abril de 1987. Trabalhos de Arqueologia 7:21–29.
Lisboa.
Kunst, M. 1995b. Central places and social complexity in the
Iberian Copper Age. In K.T. Lillios (ed.) The Origins of
Complex Societies in Late Prehistoric Iberia. International
Monographs in Prehistory. Archaeological Series, pp. 32–43.
Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Kunst, M. 1998. Waren die ‘Schmiede’ in der portugiesischen
Kupferzeit gleichzeitig auch die Elite? In B. Fritsch, M.
Maute, I. Matuschik, J. Müller and C. Wolf (eds.) Tradition
und Innovation: prähistorische Archäologie als historische
Wissenschaft. Festschrift für Christian Strahm. Internationale
Archäologie, Studia honoraria 3:541–551. Rahden/Westf.
Kunst, M. 2000. A Guerra no Calcolítico na Península Ibérica.
Era Arqeuologia 2:128–142.
Kunst, M. 2001. Die Kupferzeit der Iberischen Halbinsel. In M.
Blech, M. Koch and M. Kunst (eds.) Denkmäler der Frühzeit.
Hispania Antiqua, pp. 67–99, 481–486, 528–545. Mainz:
Philipp von Zabern.
Kunst, M. and Rojo Guerra, M. in press. La Lámpara und La Revilla
del Campo: zwei Siedlungen des frühesten Neolithikums
der Iberischen Halbinsel bei Ambrona (Soria, Spanien) und
ihre absolute Chronologie, Teil 1: La Lámpara. Madrider
Mitteilungen 48.
Kunst, M. and Trindade, L.J. 1990. Zur Besiedlungsgeschichte des
Sizandrotals: Ergebnisse aus der Küstenforschung. Madrider
Mitteilungen 31:34–82.
Kunst, M. and Uerpmann, H.-P. 1996. Zambujal (Portugal):
Vorbericht über die Grabungen 1994. Madrider Mitteilungen
37:10–36.
Kunst, M. and Uerpmann, H.-P. 2002. Zambujal (Torres Vedras,
Lisboa): relatório das escavações de 1994 e 1995. Revista
Portuguesa de Arqueologia 5/1:67–120.
Kunst, M. and Rojo Guerra, M. in press. La Revilla del Campo
und La Lámpara: zwei Siedlungen des frühesten Neolithikums
der Iberischen Halbinsel bei Ambrona (Soria). Madrider
Mitteilungen 46.
Lago, M., Duarte, C., Valera, A., Albergaria, J., Almeida, F.
and Faustino Carvalho, A. 1998. Povoado dos Perdigões
(Reguengos de Monsaraz): dados preliminares dos trabalhos
arqueológicos realizados em 1997. Revista Portuguesa de
Arqueologia 1/1:45–74.
Leisner, G. and Leisner, V. 1951. Antas do Concelho de Reguengos
Enclosing the Past
de Monsaraz: materiais para o estudo da cultura megalítica
em Portugal. Lisboa.
Lillios, K. 2002. Some new views of the engraved slate plaques
of southwest Iberia. Revista Portuguesa de Arqueologia
5/2:135–151.
Márquez Romero, J.E. 2003 Recintos prehistóricos atrincherados
(RPA) en Andalucía (España): una propuesta interpretativa.
In S. Oliveira Jorge (ed.) Recintos Murados da Pré-história
Recente, pp. 269–284. Porto.
Martín de la Cruz, J.C. 1985. Papa Uvas I, Aljaraque, Huleva:
campañas de 1976 a 1979. Excavaciones Arquelógicas en
España 136. Madrid.
Molina González, F. 1989. Proyecto Millares: los inicios de la
metalurgia y el desarrollo de las comunidades del Sudeste
de la Península Ibérica durante la Edad del Cobre. Anuario
arqueológico de Andalucía 2:211–213.
Morán, E. and Parreira, R. 2003. O Povoado Calcolítico de Alcalar
(Portimão) na Paisagem Cultural do Alvor no III Milénio Antes
da Nossa Era. In S. Oliveira Jorge (ed.) Recintos Murados da
Pré-história Recente, pp. 307–327. Porto.
Nocete Calvo, F. 1994. La formación del Estado en las Campiñas
del Alto Guadalquivir (3000–1500 a.n.e.). Monográfica Arte
y Arqueología. Granada.
Paço, A. do and Sangmeister, E. 1956. Vila Nova de S. Pedro:
eine befestigte Siedlung der Kupferzeit in Portugal. Germania
34:211–230.
Parreira, R. 1983. O Cerro dos Castelos de São Brás (Serpa):
relatório preliminar dos trabalhos arqueológicos de 1979 e
1980. O Arqueólogo Português, série 4/1:149–168.
Parreira, R. 1990. Considerações sobre os milénios IV e III a.
C. no centro e Sul de Portugal: presenças orientalizantes
em Portugal da Pré-História ao Período Romano. Estudos
Orientais 1:27–43.
Parreira, R. and Serpa, F. 1995. Novos dados sobre o povoamento
da região de Alcalar (Portimão) no IV e III milénios a.C. In
1º Congresso de Arqueologia Peninsular, Porto, Faculdade
de Letras, 12–18 Outubro 1993, Actas 7. Trabalhos de
Anthropologia e Etnologia 35/3:233–247.
Sangmeister, E. and Jiménez Gómez, M.C. 1995. Zambujal:
Kupferfunde aus den Grabungen 1964 bis 1973; Los Amuletos
de las Campañas 1964 hasta 1973. Madrider Beiträge 5,
Zambujal Teil 3. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.
Sangmeister, E. and Schubart, H. 1972. Zambujal. Antiquity
46:191–197.
Sangmeister, E. and Schubart, H. 1981. Zambujal: die Grabungen
1964 bis 1973. Madrider Beiträge 5, Zambujal Teil 1. Mainz:
Philipp von Zabern.
Savory, H.N. 1972. The cultural sequence at Vila Nova de S.
Pedro: a study of the section cut through the innermost rampart
of the Chalcolithic castro in 1959. Madrider Mitteilungen
13:23–37.
96
Schmandt-Besserat, D. 1979. Reckoning before writing.
Archaeology (New York) 32:23–31.
Schubart, H. 1970. Die kupferzeitliche Befestigung von
Columbeira/Portugal. Madrider Mitteilungen 11:59–73.
Silva, C. Tavares da and Soares, J. 1977. Contribuição para o
conhecimento dos povoados calcolíticos do Baixo Alentejo e
Algarve. Setúbal Arqueológica 2–3:179–272.
Silva, C. Tavares da and Soares, J. 1985. Monte da Tumba
(Torrão): eine befestigte Siedlung der Kupferzeit im Baixo
Alentejo (Portugal). Madrider Mitteilungen 26:1–21.
Silva, C. Tavares da and Soares, J. 1987. O povoado fortificado
calcolítico do Monte da Tumba: I. Escavações arqueológicas
de 1982–86 (resultados preliminares). Setúbal Arqueológica
8:29–79.
Soares, J., Silva, C. Tavares da 1975. A ocupação pré-histórica
do Pedrão e o Calcolítico da região de Setúbal. Setúbal
Arqueológica 1:53–153.
Stäuble, H. 1995. Radiocarbon dates of the earliest Neolithic in
central Europe. In T.G. Cook, D.D. Harkness, B.F. Miller and
E.M. Scott (eds.) Proceedings of the 15th International 14C
Conference. Radiocarbon 37/2:227–237.
Stuiver, M., and Reimer, P.J. 1993. Extended 14C data base and
revised CALIB 3.0 14C age calibration program. Radiocarbon
35,1:215–230.
Uerpmann, H.-P. 1995. Observações sobre a ecologia e economia
do Castro do Zambujal. In M. Kunst, (ed.) Origens, Estruturas
e Relações das Culturas Calcolíticas da Península Ibérica.
Actas das I Jornadas Arqueológicas de Torres Vedras, 3 a 5 de
Abril de 1987. Trabalhos de Arqueologia 7:47–53. Lisboa.
Uerpmann, H.-P. and Uerpmann, M. 2003. Zambujal: die Stein-
und Beinartefakte aus den Grabungen 1964 bis 1973. Madrider
Beiträge 5, Zambujal Teil 4. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.
Vegas Aramburu, J.I. 1999. El Enterramiento Neolítico de San
Juan ante Portam Latinam (Laguardia, Álava). Museo de
Arqueología de Álava. Vitória-Gasteiz.
Veiga, S. Philippes Martins Estácio da 1886. Antiguidades
Monumentaes do Algarve: Volume I. Tempos Prehistoricos.
Lisboa.
Veiga, S. Philippes Martins Estácio da 1889. Antiguidades
Monumentaes do Algarve, Volume III: tempos prehistoricos.
Lisboa.
Warner, R.B. 1990. A proposed adjustment for the ‘Old-Wood
Effect’. In W.G. Mook and H.T. Waterbolk (eds.) 14C and
Archaeology. Proceedings of the Second International
Symposium, Groningen 1987, PACT 29:159–172. Rixensart.
Waterbolk, H.T. 1971. Working with radiocarbon dates.
Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 37/2:15–33.
Zafra de la Torre, N., Hornos Mata, F. and Castro López, M. 1999.
Una macro-aldea en el origen del modo de vida campesino.
Marroquíes Bajos (Jaén) c. 2500–2000 cal. ANE. Trabajos de
Prehistoria 56:77–102.
7: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
Anthony Harding
Abstract: This paper seeks to shed light on the processes at
work during the Bronze Age, when the practice of enclosing
became widespread. The creation of enclosures can be
considered part of the modification of the landscape, as well
as a way of defining space. Enclosure in the Bronze Age had
a long ancestry in the Neolithic, though there the practice
appears to be of a different order. Increasingly through
the period settlements came to be isolated or enclosed,
ultimately in the form of hillforts. A special case of Bronze
Age enclosure is seen at the Bohemian site of Velim, where
surrounding ditches and pits are filled with large quantities
of human and animal bone. A model for the development of
enclosure in the Bronze Age is put forward in which special
practices, including the digging of ditches and ramparts
and the deposition of bone, were a way of reinforcing social
distinctions in a society where prestige weaponry and
conflict based on raiding were dominant.
Keywords: Enclosure, Bronze Age, Britain, Central
Europe, Velim, warfare
Why enclose? To this seemingly simple question there
are a number of answers, some simple, some complex.
What becomes immediately apparent to even the casual
observer of the later prehistoric scene in Europe is that
enclosures were not all the same and cannot all have served
the same purpose. Since the practice of enclosing became
widespread during the Bronze Age one is justified in asking
what processes were at work. This paper seeks to shed light
on at least some of them.
The act of enclosure, as several contributors to this volume
emphasise, is a way of defining space, and the space thus
defined is not merely geographical space, it is also social
space, in that those inside the enclosure are separated from
those outside, so that their identities – their histories, their
social relations, their means of social reproduction – are also
separated. So it is not necessarily appropriate to think about
enclosures, whether simple ditched or palisaded enclosures
or massive forts, merely in terms of defence. The notion of
defence immediately brings with it implications of attack,
that is to say inter-group conflict, and this raises questions
about the nature, size and role of the social groups involved,
the way in which conflicts might arise and be resolved,
and the technicalities of conducting offensive operations
designed to cause damage to opponents.
A variant on the theme of defence is that enclosing
installations were erected for the purpose of warding
off wild animal predators, in other words for protecting
domestic animals, and simultaneously for preventing stock
from wandering freely when untended by a herdsman, that
is, keeping animals under close control. This explanation
is often advanced even in the absence of any specific
evidence that animals were in fact kept inside the enclosure.
Nevertheless, one can hardly doubt that animal enclosures
did exist in prehistory, and it may be only changes of
emphasis that separate them formally from defensive
97
enclosures. Particular technical tricks might be employed in
the latter in order to thwart an enemy, whereas a firm barrier
alone might serve to keep wild animals out and domestic
ones in (the ‘kraal’ at Biskupin site 2a has been thought to
be an example of this; see below).
Whatever the initial impulse for erecting a barrier, it is
usually been thought that the motivation for enclosing
space was initially practical, in the manner described. The
idea that this might have led subsequently to enclosure for
purely symbolic reasons stems from situations where logic
would appear to dictate a form or placement of barriers in a
different, ‘more practical’ manner. We shall see instances of
this below. In fact it would be hard to separate the practical
from the symbolic as far as archaeological evidence is
concerned, since it is highly unlikely that characteristics
irrefutably diagnostic of either usage will be present.
Enclosure and landscape
Creating enclosures, i.e. enclosing or creating barriers, is
essentially a ‘landscape-based’ activity though its causes are
social, political and economic. The Berlin Wall, ostensibly
built for the ‘security’ of the inhabitants of East Berlin but
actually designed to incarcerate them, was notable not just
for its role in oppressing those who lived to the east of it
but also for its extraordinary visual effect on the urban
landscape of Berlin. A prehistoric earthwork enclosure is
perhaps most remarkable to us today because of its visual
effect, especially where Iron Age hillforts are concerned.
That effect will have been all the greater in antiquity, both
because the work will have been somewhat greater in extent
(ditches deeper, ramparts higher than today) and because
our own eyes can easily underestimate the scale of work
involved in pre-industrial societies. Not all such barriers
are on a massive scale, but all will have an effect on the
landscape.
The act of enclosing cannot then be divorced from the
more general question of the creation of landscape. In recent
years many studies of ‘landscape’ in an archaeological
context have appeared (e.g. Bender 1992, 1993; Tilley
1994; Darvill 1997; Chapman 1997; Neustupný 1998;
Johnston 1998; Ashmore and Knapp 1999; etc). Some
of these studies are concerned with the transition from
‘space’ to ‘place’, that is, the assigning of specific meaning
to particular locales, the differentiation of space in terms of
human action and interaction. While in origin this may have
developed from natural features such as springs or hilltops,
or from ‘semi-natural’ features such as particular trees or
groves (actually artefacts: Crumley 1999), by the time
people came to modify the ground to the extent of digging
ditches or erecting palisades the original significance of
those features may have been submerged.
Enclosing was a special way of defining space and differs
from other ways of carrying out that procedure. The building
of a house involved an imposition on the environment but
perhaps a rather fluid imposition in that movement remained
Enclosing the Past
Figure 7.1. Plan of Gardom’s Edge (after Barnatt et al. 2001).
possible, indeed desirable, around the house and between one
house and another. A burial mound, such as is commonly
found in Bronze Age western Europe, certainly imprinted a
mark on the land, and the mound was frequently preceded
by the marking out of ritual space through rings of posts or
fences; but while the area of burial became inaccessible,
movement around and between barrows remained physically
98
possible. But to create an encircling ditch, rampart or
palisade was to impose a physical barrier to movement and
the action was, I would suggest, conceptually different in
landscape terms.
The creation of landscape through modification of
natural features, or through the imposition of structures and
monuments, was part of a repeated set of actions (habitus

Figure 7.2. Plan of Blackshouse Burn (after Lelong and Pollard 1998).
if one wants to call it that) that enabled social life to be
maintained and reproduced. In this respect enclosing (the
creation of surrounding barriers) is similar to any other
activity that formed part of this set of actions, however
special its effect was. In almost every other respect,
however, it was different. Instead of an action which said,
“Here I am, look at me and marvel at me”, an enclosure said
“Here I am, keep away from me, approach me only if you
are one of us”. This is to say nothing of the time and labour
involved, which was considerable.1
Enclosing involves a number of steps: the decision (social,
political) to erect barriers; the actual creation of the ditch,
rampart, fence or palisade with consequent requirements for
craft skill and manpower; and the subsequent use of the
barriers, in other words the process of living with them –
inside or outside. While all are parts of the repeated actions
mentioned above, it was above all the last – the living with
the barriers – that encapsulated the ‘habitual’ process.
After all, the creation process might have been very fast, a
matter of days or even hours; but the consequences lived
on. Knowing how to behave towards a barrier – or rather
1
Just as the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961 involved a considerable
use of resources.
99
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
towards the society that permitted the barrier to exist – was
a part of daily existence. Rules surround social institutions;
barriers were social institutions. Societies that erected them
required particular modes of action from their members who
lived with them. This was as true in prehistory as it was in
Communist Berlin.
Enclosures in the Bronze Age
Fifty years ago, later prehistoric forts in many parts of
Europe were thought to belong to the Iron Age. This is
especially true of Britain and France, but applied also to
parts of central Europe. By contrast, we now know that in
many, perhaps most, parts of Europe forts – and specifically
hillforts – began life in the Bronze Age. Intriguingly, this
development was not synchronous in different parts of
Europe. What is more, possible ancestries in the Neolithic
and Eneolithic vary greatly. In what follows I shall refer
to ‘defences’ as a catch-all term to indicate the means of
enclosing by ditch, rampart, palisade or any combination
of these, without implying that the purpose was necessarily
connected with defence in a context of war.
Enclosing the Past
Figure 7.3. Plan of the henge monument at Balfarg, Fife (Mercer et al. 1988).
In Britain, we can point to an extensive background
to Bronze Age enclosure in the Neolithic. Although
causewayed enclosures seem not to have been consistent in
their use of defences, there are beyond question a number
that made extensive use of them: Hambledon Hill (Mercer
1980, 1999) and Crickley Hill (Dixon 1988) are the most
fully excavated examples, with remarkable evidence for
elaborately constructed defensive lines. Mercer has extended
the argument to other sites that used defences in the southern
English Neolithic, for instance Carn Brea and Helman Tor
(Mercer 1981; 1997). Debate continues about the nature
and function of ‘causewayed enclosures’, both within Britain
and in continental Europe (Oswald et al. 2001; Darvill and
Thomas 2001; Varndell and Topping 2002). While all are
enclosures, in the sense that they define space which was
separated from the outer world, not all necessarily served
as defensive sites that saw aggressive action (as Crickley
apparently did, to judge from the evidence of arrowheads
on the site). Many have speculated on a possible connection
with the later henge monuments, though in fact there are
significant differences between the two classes of site and
it would be hard to maintain that henges were defensive in
character. There are also a number of enclosures, shown
or thought to be of Neolithic date, that fall into neither
category: sites such as Gardom’s Edge in Derbyshire (Fig.
100
7.1) Ainsworth and Barnatt 1998; Oswald et al. 2001; 86
ff., fig. 5.11; Barnatt et al. 2001), Hasting Hill in Tyne &
Wear (Newman 1976) or Blackshouse Burn in Lanarkshire
(Lelong and Pollard 1998) (Fig. 7.2).
If causewayed enclosures belong to the Early and
Middle Neolithic, henge monuments mostly belong to
the Late Neolithic and Beaker period. Here too, there is
no uniformity in morphology, accompanying features or
external relationships, though certain regularities have
been detected, depending on which sites one includes
within the category. What is important in an understanding
of Early Bronze Age enclosure is the fact that particular
locales were being identified and space turned into place
by means of enclosing features. While the physical scale
of the barriers thus created have been exaggerated in the
past (not least by this author: Harding with Lee 1987:35–6,
fig. 26 2), the mental or psychological barrier should not be
underestimated. Ditch and bank formed a divide which,
one may assume, was simply not to be crossed except under
particular circumstances by particular people (Fig. 7.3).
Enclosure went from what was (arguably) defensive to what
was (arguably) purely spatial in the course of a few hundred
2
The reconstruction of the Milfield North henge by Clive Waddington in
2001 showed clearly that I overestimated the scale of the barrier that the
upcast from the henge ditch would have formed.

Figure 7.4. Ring cairn on Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire (after Harding 1994).
years – or, of course, it may have maintained two distinct
characters simultaneously.
What happened next is curious and intriguing. While henge
monuments did not generally continue to be created beyond
the Beaker period, the phenomenon of the circular enclosed
space that represents a variant on the henge theme was a
well-known part of Bronze Age life (and death). We see it
in the stone circle, the enclosures of timber that preceded the
erection of many barrows, in the upland monuments known
as ring cairns (Fig. 7.4), and probably in many undated ring
ditch sites that have been identified by air photography and
could belong to a number of different periods. In many ways
these sites represent a continuation of the henge monument.
Some henges continued to be used as burial places; at
North Mains, Strathallan, Perthshire, for instance, there are
a number of burials with Bronze Age urn pottery (Barclay
1983), though the site must have been created in the Late
Neolithic. Likewise, some stone circles saw the deposition
of inurned burials of Early Bronze Age date, for instance
the Druids’ Circle at Penmaenmawr (Griffiths 1960) (Fig.
7.5). To the extent that one can argue for a continuation of
the tradition of separating space to serve a special purpose,
this Bronze Age use of henges and stone circles represents
something apparently similar to that in the Late Neolithic.
On the other hand, there are good reasons for believing
that the Beaker period represents some kind of break with
preceding practice. The events at Stonehenge, where the
101
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
Phase III constructions in stone are the visible embodiment
of this break, epitomise this situation (Cleal et al. 1995),
though the stones are still placed within the circular ditched
enclosure and at least some of them were placed in a ring.
Enclosed space used for the burial of cremation urns
provide a further variant on the theme. Sites such as
Loanhead of Daviot in northeast Scotland (Kilbride-
Jones 1935–6) or Blackheath, Todmorden, West Yorkshire
(Bu’Lock 1961) illustrate the point (Burgess 1980:313 ff.).
In many of these cases there seems to be a continuum of
form between the barrow, the ring-ditch, and the hengiform
enclosure, so much so that some of the sites have even
been called ‘henges’ (e.g. Loanhead of Daviot: Burgess
1974:179). Nomenclature is unimportant in this context;
what matters is what was being done with space, and how
that space might have been perceived by those using the
monuments.
Thus far, however, all the sites under consideration may
be considered something other than settlements (though
causewayed enclosures are a partial exception to this). With
the Middle Bronze Age we move into a different arena. A
series of enclosures in southern England are unequivocally
associated with settlement, in that many (perhaps all) of
them contain one or more houses. This tradition may be
seen most clearly in the Wessex area, and specifically on
Cranborne Chase (Barrett, Bradley and Green 1991:144
ff.), though examples are present outside that area. In cases
Enclosing the Past
Figure 7.5. Plan of the Druids’ Circle at Penmaenmawr, North Wales (after Griffiths 1960).
such as these, the domestic association is beyond dispute,
however closely associated with nearby burial monuments
the enclosures may be. For the first time we are seeing a
house or houses, surrounded by a ditch and bank, usually
with a single entrance (or in the case of Down Farm only
half a ditch circuit, the gap presumably being filled with
fences or thorn hedges), and usually rectangular or sub-
rectangular (more rarely circular). This practice can be seen
too in later parts of the Bronze Age. At Lofts Farm, Essex
(Fig. 7.6), a single roundish house 11×10m across lay in the
middle of a roughly square enclosure (Brown 1988), while
at the North Rings, Mucking, Essex, three circular post-built
houses 5–5.5m in diameter lay in the western half of a large
round ditched enclosure (Bond 1988) (Fig. 7.7). A number
of other such sites are known though few are published
(e.g. Springfield Lyons: Buckley and Hedges 1987). The
defences are substantial, especially when one considers that
in several instances only a single house or farmstead was
enclosed by them.
In some areas a curious dichotomy exists between enclosed
and unenclosed sites. On Dartmoor, southwest England,
this has sometimes been seen as the difference between
‘arable’ and ‘pastoral’ settlements, the arable sites being
those where hut circles are simply incorporated within field
systems, whereas others lie within enclosing walls that form
paddocks for animal enclosure. A well-known example of
102
the latter is the site at Shaugh Moor (Wainwright and Smith
1980). The ‘arable’ sites compare closely with what is found
on the downland of Wessex or Sussex, as known from sites
such as Black Patch (Drewett 1984), lying in the middle of
a field system. Needs, or at any rate perceived needs, were
different here, and it may be that there was a functional
difference in the way that particular farmers operated in
their landscapes.
Yet this is also a time when a more marked move into
enclosed or protected sites took place. In contrast to the
open huts and paddocks of Dartmoor arable settlements, or
even paddocks of Shaugh Moor type, sites such as Rider’s
Rings or Grimspound show an altogether more ambitious
approach to the question of enclosure (Burgess 1980:209
ff.) (Fig. 7.8). A sizeable area is there surrounded by a
substantial wall, with dozens of huts in the interior. Both
these sites are very difficult to date, but they are believed
to belong to later stages of the Bronze Age, if not (in
part) to the Iron Age. At this point we enter a new phase
of the development of the enclosure. These Dartmoor
sites are mirrored in developments elsewhere in different
media. The creation of the lake-side or island sites known
as crannógs starts in the later stages of the Bronze Age;
while one might not describe these as ‘fortified’ in the
strict sense, their position in isolated spots that are hard
of access cannot be accidental. Sites in Ireland, notably

Figure 7.6. Plan of Loft’s Farm, Essex ( after Brown 1988).
Knocknalappa (Co. Clare) (Fig. 7.9), Ballinderry 2, and
most recently Clonfinlough (both Co. Offaly) (Fig. 7.10)
illustrate how platforms were created on damp ground,
with a surrounding palisade (Raftery 1942; Hencken 1942;
Moloney 1993); whether or not they lay actually in water
is a matter of debate since much depends on knowledge
of water levels at the period. The move to settlement in
wet places (which is indisputable) in the Late Bronze Age
certainly seems symptomatic of a desire to place dwellings
in relatively inaccessible spots. They are best seen as one
element in the move towards separation of settlement sites
from simple agrarian villages that characterises the later
stages of the Bronze Age as well as much of the Iron Age.
‘Separation’ is admittedly not the same as ‘enclosure’ but
it is arguable that the practical effect was very similar, and
it would be unhelpful to try to understand the process of
hillfort creation without simultaneously considering the
103
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
phenomenon of wetland settlement.
For it is in this period too that hillforts properly so called
begin to appear. Of course not all sites were forts. Margarita
Primas (2002) has described this process as ‘taking the
high ground’, and in a site such as Mam Tor, Derbyshire,
the earliest phases, dating to the early Late Bronze Age,
were not surrounded by ramparts (Coombs 1976). The
phenomenon of enclosure in the Middle and Late Bronze
Age has been considered recently by Needham and Ambers
(1994), in the context of a reassessment of the date of the
defences of Rams Hill, Berkshire. The conclusion of the
work on Rams Hill itself was that buildings attributable
to the Taunton metalwork phase preceded the erection of
ramparts at the site, which began only in the Penard phase
and were subsequently modified several times. Needham
was sceptical about most other ‘early’ enclosure installations,
though the quality of the evidence on excavated sites does
Enclosing the Past

Figure 7.7. Plan of Mucking South Ring (after Bond 1988).

Figure 7.8. Plan of Rider’s Rings, Dartmoor, Devon (after Worth 1953).

104

Figure 7.9. Plan of the crannóg of Clonfinlough (after Moloney 1993).
not permit firm conclusions. What is certain is that from
the Penard phase onwards, and particularly in the Wilburton
and Ewart Park phases of the Late Bronze Age, fortification
became more and more common, as can be seen from the
Breiddin in the Welsh Marches (Musson 1991), or a number
of other sites.
Central Europe
It is tempting to see the situation in central Europe as
analogous to that in Britain, though there are significant
differences in dating. For some years the site type known
as the ‘Rondel’ has been known to be a widespread Middle
to Late Neolithic phenomenon (Petrasch 1990; Podborský
and Kovárník, this volume). Among the many examples
that have come to prominence the sites of Těšetice-Kyjovice
(Podborský 1988) and Svodín (Němejcová-Pavúková 1995)
are notable, the former because of its close similarity
in form to British henge monuments. Really the only
major difference is that the ‘Rondels’ are much earlier
– four closely clustered radiocarbon dates from Svodín, for
instance, span a calibrated range of 4810–4670 BC at 91.5%
probability (calibration according to OxCal v. 3.5; Fig. 7.11),
105
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
whereas dates for henge monuments fall largely in the third
millennium Cal BC. Commentators on their function (e.g.
Podborský 1988:258 ff.; Petrasch 1990:494–516) have also
assumed that they were similar to henges in that the space
enclosed was ritual and not defended. But what happens
after that marks a distinct change in the sequence. From the
Eneolithic on, and particularly in the Early Bronze Age, one
sees the beginning of enclosed sites, often on hills, for which
the term ‘hillfort’ may not be inappropriate. While sites of
the Řivnač culture such as Homolka near Slaný (Ehrich and
Pleslová-Štíková 1968) are arguably no more than domestic
sites on modest hills, admittedly with surrounding palisades,
sites such as Spišský Štvrtok (Vladár 1973) in northern
Slovakia are a different matter since they are surrounded
by a stone-built wall, even though the hilltop in question
is far from inaccessible. Other Slovak Early Bronze Age
sites were apparently provided with ‘fortifications’, such
as Nitrianský Hrádok (Točík 1981; Fig. 7.12) or Barca
(Kabát 1955; Točík 1994). The precise nature of the latter
is problematical since the site archive was lost before any
definitive publication was produced, but the single available
plan shows rows of houses surrounded by a ditch and wood-
framed rampart. At Spišský Štvrtok too the situation is less
clear than one would like, though it is certainly true that a
series of walls encircle the central part of the site, which lies
 Enclosing the Past

106
Figure 7.10. Plan of the crannóg of Knocknalappa (after Raftery 1942).

Figure 7.11. Probability distributions of the radiocarbon dates from Svodin (calibrated using OxCal v.3.5).
on a gently sloping hill. Unfortunately, the published plans
are largely hypothetical reconstructions and the situation
on the ground was less than completely clear (Fig. 7.13).
Of great interest is the fact that at both these sites, hoards
of gold objects were found (as too at Velim, below), which
raises other questions about the nature of enclosure and
fortification in these Early Bronze Age contexts.
From an early phase of the Bronze Age in central Europe
there are examples of enclosures. An elongated oval site
at Biskupin in central Poland (site 2a), containing pottery
of the Iwno culture, has often been cited as an example of
a cattle kraal (Gardawski et al. 1957; Grossmann 1995).
The absence of structures on the site, with hearths only
occurring in the ditch fills, along with the bone evidence
(Krysiak 1957) which shows that a normal range of animals,
including fish, was exploited, suggested that the site was not
a habitation. More recently it has been suggested that its
dominant position on a ridge and its extensive ditches implied
a special function within the Early Bronze Age communities
of the area, including possible archaeoastronomical purposes
(Grossmann 1995 with references).
Early Bronze Age settlement on tells in the Hungarian
Plain seems quite frequently to have been accompanied by
surrounding ditches. The case of Nitrianský Hrádok has
been mentioned above; a large ditch was certainly present
at Jászdózsa-Kápolnahalom (Stanczik 1982) and at Aszòd
(Tárnoki 1988), though it was absent at others. These
ditches vary in dimensions, and while it may be plausible
to see them as a defensive element of the early stages of tell
settlement when habitation lay much closer to the natural
ground level, by the time the settlement layers were several
metres high after centuries of occupation they may have
lost their original function. This does, however, suggest
to us that the enclosures changed their meaning over time.
What started as a functional element that served to exclude
became over time the ‘required barrier’ (to quote from Iron
Age scholars Bowden and McOmish 1987) which was more
symbolic than anything else.
As with the British Isles, we can point to wetland sites
where houses were enclosed within palisades or larger
constructions, especially in the sub-Alpine region. The
Forschner site on the Federsee in Baden-Württemberg
is a good example (Torke 1990) (Fig. 7.14). Single-cell
107
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
buildings clustered in the southwest part of the site in its first
phase (dated by dendrochronology to the eighteenth century
BC), with surrounding rampart and palisade, and a later
phase of occupation followed in the years following 1508
BC. As with the Irish crannógs (above), this site and others
like it appear to represent a specific intention of siting the
settlement in a relatively inaccessible location (in wetland)
and surrounding it with enclosing features that would have
made both egress and ingress rather difficult. A defensive
function is a distinct possibility, but the general situation
suggests that this cannot represent the whole truth.
Increasing numbers of sites, often though not always on
hills, are being shown to have an Early Bronze Age start date,
as a recent article by Margarita Primas (2002) demonstrates.
A number of hill sites in southern Germany and the Alpine
area can now be shown to have been occupied in the Early
Bronze Age, including the site excavated by Primas herself
with her collaborators (the Ochsenberg at Wartau, canton St.
Gallen). Likewise the site of Sotciastel on a rocky spur in
the Italian Alps has occupation of the Early Bronze Age and
a wall cutting off the most accessible slope (Tecchiati 1998).
On the other hand, Primas point outs (2002:44) that west of
Austria dated Early Bronze Age forts are rare, even if some
settlements were situated on higher ground.
In the Middle Bronze Age the situation in central Europe
was not very different; a site such as the Bogenberg near
Straubing was occupied from this period. To this time must
belong the extraordinary site of Monkodonja in Istria, with its
well-preserved walls enclosing a major settlement (Teržan et
al. 1998; Fig. 7.15). Since only preliminary reports on this
site have appeared so far it would be premature to jump to
conclusions about its function, but all indications so far are
that the houses inside the massive enclosure had a domestic
function and that the site was literally a hillfort. Other
forts in the same area might well turn out to have a similar
history; some of the castellieri of the northern Adriatic go
back similarly far (Harding 2000:300 with references).
By the Late Bronze Age, forts (especially hillforts) were
common throughout central Europe. This rise has been
studied by many authors (e.g. Herrmann 1969; Burgenbau
1982), and I have written more extensively elsewhere on
the topic (Harding and Ostoja-Zagórski 1993; Harding
2000:296ff.). I believe that these early hillforts are
Enclosing the Past
Figure 7.12. Plan of Nitriansky Hrádok (after Točík 1981).
intimately connected with two processes: the formalisation
of Bronze Age warfare, centring on raiding by groups of
men numbering in the scores or low hundreds; and the
creation of formalised territorial units of a quasi-political
nature. But in all this, the contribution of Early and Middle
Bronze Age processes was a crucial forerunner.
Velim
It is to this period that the curious and well-known site
108
of Velim, central Bohemia, belongs (Hrala et al. 2000)
(Fig. 7.16). The site lies on a low hill overlooking the Elbe
lowlands, and consists of a series of ditches and pits, the
whole surrounded by a massive double ditch, recovered
initially in excavation but then traced by air photography
and geophysical survey running far beyond the site core
(Colour Plate 5). Originally this was thought to be merely a
feature of the immediate site, but it is now known to extend
over at least 1km east–west and more than 0.5km north–
south. Whether one calls this an ‘enclosure’ is a matter of
definition. The relationship of these ditches to the rest of the

Figure 7.13. Published plan of Spišský Štvrtok (after Vladár 1973).
features on the site remains unclear. Within the site proper,
it is far from clear what lies ‘inside’ and what ‘outside’ the
main features. Unfortunately, most of the central area on
the hilltop is destroyed, and the small area that has been
excavated produced nothing indicating function. There are
settlement traces (post-built structures) just inside the ditch
circuits, but only on a small scale. Most of the important
finds occur either in the ditches themselves, or just outside
them. Many of the ditches excavated (admittedly only a
rather small sample) had seen violent activity, with much
bone deposited in the lower levels.
It is, however, what lies in these enclosing ditches and
pit circuits that is most extraordinary: there were large
109
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
quantities of human and animal bone, in some cases whole
bodies carefully deposited, in others haphazardly thrown in,
and in yet others parts of bodies or individual bones, for
instance skulls, deposited in many of the features excavated
(Colour Plate 6).3 Ongoing work by Marta Dočkalová
(Ústav Anthropos, Brno), and a more recent project by
Christopher Knüsel (Bradford University) and Alan
Outram (Exeter University) have shown that some of the
bones exhibit cut marks or blows, indicating peri-mortem
violence. Interestingly, however, the treatment of human
3
Although large parts of the site are destroyed or otherwise unavailable for
excavation, so that the total investigated is only a small part of the whole, a
large proportion of the excavated pits and ditches contained bone.
Enclosing the Past
Figure 7.14. Plan of the Forschner site, Baden-Württemberg (after Torke 1990).
and animal bones was quite different, since the latter were
regularly smashed and broken during butchery and marrow
extraction, while this did not occur with the human element.
In other words, cannibalism appears to be excluded (this
is the subject of the Bradford–Exeter project and will be
discussed at length elsewhere).
We are dealing then with violence against the person,
happening in conjunction with the digging of ditches and
pits, accompanied by palisades, and in a late phase, the
construction of what appears to have been an enormous
ditch and stone-faced rampart. This violence was large-
scale and possibly systematic. The question arises, was
the creation of enclosed space linked to the manipulation
of human bodies and the deposition of human and animal
bone? How did the ‘enclosures’ at Velim operate?
At least two possible scenarios have been suggested. One
involves what is essentially a defensive function for the
site, with the bodies representing the remains of defeated
defenders; the other a ritual one with funerary connotations.
Against the former one may point to the very large number
of isolated pits that are full of bone which cannot be the
slaughtered inhabitants of the site defeated in battle and
thrown into the open ditches of their defences – the majority
of these depositions appear to have been intentional and
placed, notably the collections of skulls (for instance in
110
Feature 154: Hrala et al. 2000:38–9, fig. III.27). They
are not the haphazard placements that one might expect if
they resulted from the careless tipping of corpses into open
graves following military action. The pits and ditches were
intentionally dug, and the bodies intentionally placed there,
even though in the vast majority of cases they were not
laid out as ‘burials’. In support of the ritual interpretation
the deposition of gold hoards, the human remains, and the
strange ‘fortifications’ are commonly cited, and indeed all
these things suggest strongly that Velim was no ordinary
enclosure, and certainly no ordinary fort. Another interesting
feature is the fact that old photographs show that the site
prior to quarrying was marked by a prominent rock outcrop,
which must have been a notable landmark, its crags pointing
upwards like fingers.
One is reminded here of other parts of central Europe
where similar outcrops occur, perhaps most famously in the
‘Bohemian Paradise’ (Český raj) some 60km north of the
Velim area. These too point like fingers towards the sky,
and include many fissures and cracks, which, as we know
well from Bohemia, Bavaria, Thuringia and elsewhere, were
frequently used in prehistory for the insertion of human
bones and/or body parts (Harding 2000:318 ff. with refs).
This in turn reminds us that holes in the ground, whether
humanly made as with the pits at Velim, or natural as with
111
Figure 7.15. Plan of the fort at Monkodonja, Istria (after Teržan et al. 1998).
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
Enclosing the Past
Figure 7.16. Plan of the central area at Velim, Czech Republic, showing excavation areas (provisional version).
rock clefts, fissures, or caves, were often thought of in
mythology as entrances to the underworld, or the homes of
spirits or divine creatures.
Velim represents the most remarkable of all cases of special
treatment on Bronze Age sites surrounded by enclosing
ditch and rampart. How can its extraordinary features be
incorporated into our understanding of the development of
Bronze Age enclosure?
A model for the development of
enclosure in Bronze Age Europe
The foregoing discussion makes clear that the process of
enclosing was deeply rooted in many parts of Bronze Age
Europe. On the other hand, it did not take the same course
everywhere, nor was its function identical in all places at
all times. Three main functional associations are evident:
funerary; domestic; and defensive (in the true sense). All
made use of enclosing devices, and frequently it is impossible
to tell the sites apart from their external appearance. One
thing, however, unites all of them: the intention of excluding
or including (= enclosing). The barriers that form the
enclosure serve to demarcate space, to separate the outside
from the inside, external space from internal space, and thus
to assign special meaning to the space enclosed.
Enclosed space was different from unenclosed space.
112
Not only did enclosure represent the conscious act of
stamping human meaning on undifferentiated space, it also
divided those parts of the land for which special treatment
was intended from those parts that were in a broad sense
unmodified (only unmodified in a broad sense, of course,
because any land which was habitually travelled over,
grazed, or settled was inevitably and irreversibly modified;
while we do not know how much intact post-Glacial forest
might have survived the millennia down to the Bronze Age,
clearance episodes shown in pollen diagrams indicate that it
cannot have been very much.) The unmodified land, where
there is no direct evidence for prehistoric activity, represents
not so much the wild, or untamed (or agrios in the Hodder
(1990) formulation), as the neutral, the land which was
merely there, which people saw, moved in, and exploited,
without it being assigned a particular meaning.
How may we correlate these moves towards the
assignation of special meaning to particular spaces with
other developments occurring during the period? Over the
last 40 years it has been usual to view the Bronze Age as
a period during which societies changed markedly, from
what some saw as egalitarian in the Neolithic to ranked or
stratified in the Bronze Age. In this, the role of metal and
other special materials (amber, faience, glass, semi-precious
stones, shells) were important since they introduced new
values into the system of creating and owning. Also crucial
is the move towards larger settlement units, as is evident

from the abundance and size of both settlements and
cemeteries in many areas. This has sometimes been seen
as the creation of quasi-political groupings, with a territorial
patterning centred on major sites that were surrounded
by subsidiary hamlets and farmsteads. It is within such a
context that the creation of genuine forts may be viewed, in
a time where small-scale raiding, sometimes on horseback,
was on the increase. Warfare in the Late Bronze Age, that is
violence between persons and communities, seems to have
consisted above all in this type of activity, which included
also combat between individuals equipped with high-
prestige, flashy armour. Hill-top fortifications, or at least
some of them, and low-lying stockades of Biskupin type,
plausibly represent a response to raiding of this nature, and
(at late Lausitz stockades in northern Europe such as forts
of Biskupin type: Państwowe Muzeum 1991) potentially to
more serious kinds of internecine strife.
This, however, does not explain earlier forms of enclosure,
such as the Early Bronze Age hilltop sites. Here a different
model is appropriate. In this connection two factors are
significant. First, the Early Bronze Age has usually been
seen as a society in which warrior prestige first came to
the fore, as represented by dagger burials. Second, it was
during the Early Bronze Age that the practice of hoarding
became widespread in Europe.
Dagger burials have commonly been thought to represent
the graves of elite individuals who wielded the weapons in
the hunt or in personal combat; in other words, prestige-
oriented warrior-huntsmen. The rise of such individuals
is especially marked in central and western Europe, and is
associated above all with the early use of tin-bronze, though
somewhat earlier copper examples occur as well. Dagger-
bearing warriors could be seen in one sense as indicative
of warfare, but much more plausible is the association with
developing social complexity. If these individuals were
specially marked in death, as (we presume) in life, then they
were marked by their fellows and the distinctions had to be
reinforced. Not only elite residence would be a consequence,
but practices that ensured social divisions were produced
and reproduced.
In an early warrior society, the maintenance of pre-
eminent status for those selected to be warriors will have
been an ongoing and major concern. That status may have
been acquired by feats involving wise counsel, force of
arms, or personal strength (i.e. achieved status), or it may
have been acquired by virtue of birth or other contingent
quality (assigned status). Whichever it was, until such
ranking was embedded in society to the extent that it was
not questioned, mechanisms were necessary to ensure that
it was maintained. Brute force may have been one of these,
but as many a dictator has found out to his cost, brute force
is unreliable. Much more persuasive would be the use of
belief systems that encouraged the view that the social order
was ordained to be such, through special practices involving
particular kinds of ‘non-utilitarian’ behaviour. We might
call such practices rites or cults, and see them as part of
ritual or religion. Archaeologically, these practices might
appear as apparently baffling acts, typically depositions that
have little or nothing to do with domestic life or death, but
stand out for their apparent aimlessness in the context of
economic and social necessity.
In such a scenario, early warrior societies would then
use special practices as a reinforcing mechanism for the
preservation of the status quo. The creation of special
113
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
places through enclosure might be a particularly striking
means of doing this, as would be the accompanying
deposition of special materials. If those materials were
either valuable (gold, bronze) or connected with personal
violence and sacrifice (butchered human bodies or animals)
the significance of the acts would have been all the greater.
It is into such a context that deposits such as those at
Spišský Štvrtok, Barca or Velim should fall. Though the
two are quite different in detail, both involve practices that
are hard to explain in purely utilitarian terms, and in neither
case is there any evidence of strategic thinking in terms of
defence. The creation of these enclosures, accompanied
by the deposition of metal goods or bone groups, was one
part of a complex mechanism for reinforcing basic social
distinctions in the Early and Middle Bronze Age, in which
the rise of the warrior was prime.
The amassing of metal goods by individuals or groups
was arguably one such practice. At a time when metal was
still relatively restricted in distribution, the ability to collect
together a variety of objects, whether mint or used, was
unusual, and needed to be made manifest to society at large.
Parading it on special occasions might have been one way
of doing this; using it as part of a process of giving special
meaning to an elite residence was another.
But on the other hand this is merely an aspect of inter-
personal violence, as opposed to defence. No one looking
at the extraordinary pictures of bone groups at Velim can
be in any doubt that this inter-personal violence was a
major feature of Middle–Late Bronze Age life. While we
cannot be sure if the central area of Velim was occupied
by domestic settlement or not, it may have been, in which
case the massive pits were the means of access to the earth,
and contained bone as an imposition of human presence,
perhaps ancestral presence as in the case of the rich woman
buried deep in Pit 27, on a notable landscape feature. The
accompanying massive defensive installations, evidence of
a huge constructional effort, acted as counterpart to the huge
pit-digging effort in the interior.
Seen in this light, ditch-digging and body deposition at
Velim was part of an elaborate mechanism for including
as much as excluding. Certainly the massive outer ditches
formed an enclosure, but given its scale it can only have been
of limited practical use for excluding those determined to
enter it. Instead, the enclosure thus defined marked the limits
of ‘exterior’ behaviour and the start of ‘interior’ behaviour.
That behaviour itself was remarkable. In some respects the
results can only be regarded as pathetic, as the crushed and
twisted bodies of infants and children make clear. In others
the results are ghoulish, with half bodies, bodies without
certain limbs, detached skulls, and other curiosities attest.
Of course for these people life was unnecessarily short; but
in the greater order of things, i.e. the maintenance of the
social order, they were probably regarded as inevitable, a
consequence of being a Bronze Age person in that place and
time.
Conclusion
Excluding and including in the Bronze Age was a fact
of life, one which was learned early and stayed with one
throughout life. At different places at different times there
were various ways of treating enclosure; not all enclosures
served the same utilitarian purpose. But as a mode of action,
Enclosing the Past
a way of behaving, creating barriers was one of the things
that one did.
I have suggested that this set of processes is intimately
bound up with at least two other sets of behaviour that come
to prominence in the Bronze Age: the rise of warrior burial;
and the practice of depositing valuable metal in the ground.
This in turn must be seen in relation to a Neolithic background
where enclosure was less common but more ‘monumental’.
In all cases, however, the intention to exclude and include
was paramount. It is in the creation and maintenance of
such mechanisms that Bronze Age people created some of
their most enduring, and least intelligible, monuments.
Bibliography
Ainsworth, S. and Barnatt, J. 1998. A scarp-edge enclosure
at Gardom’s Edge, Baslow, Derbyshire. Derbyshire
Archaeological Journal 118:5–23.
Ashmore, W. and Knapp, A.B. (eds.) 1999. Archaeologies of
Landscape: contemporary perspectives. Malden, Mass.:
Blackwell.
Barclay, G.J. 1983. Sites of the third millennium bc to the first
millennium ad at North Mains, Strathallan, Perthshire.
Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 113:122–
281.
Barnatt, J., Bevan, B. and Edmonds, M. 2001. A time and place
for enclosure: Gardom’s Edge, Derbyshire. In T. Darvill and
J. Thomas (eds.) Neolithic Enclosures in Atlantic Northwest
Europe, pp. 111–131. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Barrett, J.C., Bradley, R. and Green, M. 1991. Landscape,
Monuments and Society: the prehistory of Cranborne Chase.
Cambridge: University Press.
Bender, B. 1992. Theorizing landscapes, and the prehistoric
landscape of Stonehenge. Man n.s. 27:735–755.
Bender, B. (ed.) 1993. Landscape: Politics and Perspectives.
Oxford: Berg.
Bond, D. 1988. Excavation at the North Ring, Mucking, Essex: a
Late Bronze Age enclosure. East Anglian Archaeology 43.
Bowden, M. and McOmish, D. 1987. The required barrier. Scottish
Archaeological Review 4:76–84.
Brown, N. 1988. A Late Bronze Age enclosure at Lofts Farm,
Essex. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 54:249–302.
Bu’Lock, J.D. 1961. The Bronze Age in the North West.
Transactions of the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian
Society 71:1–42.
Buckley, D.G. and Hedges, J.D. 1987. The Bronze Age and Saxon
settlements at Springfield Lyons: an interim report. Essex
County Council Occasional Paper 5.
Burgenbau 1982. Beiträge zum bronzezeitlichen Burgenbau in
Mitteleuropa. Berlin: Zentralinstitut für Alte Geschichte
und Archäologie; Nitra: Archeologický Ústav Slovenskej
Akadémie Vied.
Burgess, C. 1974. The Bronze Age. In C. Renfrew (ed.)
British Prehistory: a new outline, pp. 165–232. London:
Duckworth.
Burgess, C. 1980. The Age of Stonehenge. London: Dent.
Chapman, J. 1997. Places as timemarks – the social construction
of prehistoric landscapes in eastern Hungary. In J. Chapman
and P. Dolukhanov (eds.) Landscapes in Flux: central and
eastern Europe in Antiquity, pp. 137–161. Oxford: Oxbow
Books.
Cleal, R. et al. 1995. Stonehenge in its Landscape: twentieth
century excavations. English Heritage Archaeological Report
10. London: English Heritage.
Coombs, D.G. 1976. Excavations at Mam Tor, Derbyshire 1965–
1969. In D.W. Harding (ed.) Hillforts: later prehistoric
earthworks in Britain and Ireland, pp. 147–52. London:
Academic Press.
114
Crumley, C.L. 1999. Sacred landscapes: constructed and
conceptualized. In W. Ashmore and A.B. Knapp (eds.)
Archaeologies of landscape: contemporary perspectives, pp.
269–76. Malden, Mass.: Blackwell.
Darvill, T. 1997. Neolithic landscapes: identity and definition.
In P. Topping (ed.) Neolithic Landscapes, pp. 1–13. Oxbow
Monograph 86. Oxford.
Darvill, T. and Thomas, J. (eds.) 2001. Neolithic Enclosures in
Atlantic Northwest Europe. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Dixon, P.W. 1988. The Neolithic settlements on Crickley Hill. In
C. Burgess, P. Topping, C. Mordant and M. Maddison (eds.)
Enclosures and Defences in the Neolithic of Western Europe,
pp. 75–87. British Archaeological Reports, Internat. Ser. 403.
Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.
Drewett, P. 1982. Later Bronze Age downland economy and
excavations at Black Patch, East Sussex. Proceedings of the
Prehistoric Society 48:321–400.
Ehrich, R.W. and Pleslová-Štíková, E. 1968. Homolka: an
Eneolithic site in Bohemia. Monumenta Archaeologica 16.
Prague: Institute of Archaeology.
Gardawski, A., Dąbrowski, J., Miklaszewska, R. and Miśkiewicz,
J. 1957. Kraal z wczesnej epoki brązu w Biskupinie pow.
Żnin. Wiadomości Archeologiczne 24 (3):189–208.
Griffiths, W.E. 1960. The excavation of stone circles near
Penmaenmawr, North Wales. Proceedings of the Prehistoric
Society 26:303–339.
Grossmann, A. 1995. Biskupiński mikroregion osadniczy we
wczesnych okresach epoki brązu (I, II oraz II/III okresy epoki
brązu). In W. Niewiarowski (ed.) Zarys zmian środowiska
geograficznego okolic Biskupina pod wpływem czynników
naturalnych i antropogenicznych w późnym glacjale i
holocenie, pp. 65–76. Toruń: Turpress.
Harding A.F. 1994. Prehistoric and Early Medieval activity
on Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire. Archaeological Journal
151:16–97.
Harding, A.F. 2000. European Societies in the Bronze Age.
Cambridge: University Press.
Harding, A.F. and Lee, G.E. 1987. Henge Monuments and
Related Sites of Great Britain: air photographic evidence and
catalogue. British Archaeological Reports, British Ser. 175.
Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.
Harding, A.F. and Ostoja-Zagórski, J. 1993. The Lausitz culture
and the beginning and end of Bronze Age fortifications. In J.
Chapman and P. Dolukhanov (eds.) Cultural Transformations
and Interactions in Eastern Europe, pp. 163–77. Worldwide
Archaeology Series, 6. Aldershot etc: Avebury.
Hencken, H. 1942. Ballinderry crannog no. 2. Proceedings of the
Royal Irish Academy 47C:1–77.
Herrmann, J. 1969. Burgen und befestigte Siedlungen der jüngeren
Bronze- und frühen Eisenzeit in Mitteleuropa. In K.-H. Otto
and J. Herrmann (eds.) Siedlung, Burg und Stadt: Studien zu
ihren Anfängen, pp. 56–94. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag.
Hodder, I. 1990. The Domestication of Europe. Oxford:
Blackwell.
Hrala, J., Šumberová, R. and Vávra, M. 2000. Velim: a Bronze Age
fortified site in Bohemia. Prague: Institute of Archaeology.
Johnston, R. 1998. Approaches to the perception of landscape.
Archaeological Dialogues 5 (1):54–68.
Kabát, J. 1955. Otomanská osada v Barci u Košic. Archeologické
rozhledy 7:594–600, 611–613; cf. 742–746.
Kilbride-Jones, H.E. 1935–6. Late Bronze Age cemetery: being
an account of the excavations of 1935 at Loanhead of Daviot,
Aberdeenshire…. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries
Scotland 70:278–310.
Krysiak, J. 1957. Analiza szczątków kostnych ze stanowiska 2a w
Biskupinie. Wiadomości Archeologiczne 24 (3):209–15.
Lelong, O. and Pollard, T. 1998. The excavation and survey of
prehistoric enclosures at Blackshouse Burn, Lanarkshire.
Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 128:13–
54.

Mercer, R.J. 1980. Hambledon Hill, a Neolithic Landscape.
Edinburgh: University Press.
Mercer, R.J. 1981. Excavations at Carn Brea, Illogan, Cornwall,
1970–73: a Neolithic fortified complex of the third millennium
bc. Cornish Archaeology 20:1–204.
Mercer, R.J. 1997. The excavation of a Neolithic enclosure
complex at Helman Tor, Lostwithiel, Cornwall. Cornish
Archaeology 36:5–63.
Mercer, R.J. 1999. The origins of warfare in the British Isles. In J.
Carman and A. Harding (eds.) Ancient Warfare: Archaeological
Perspectives, pp. 143–156. Stroud: Sutton Publishing.
Mercer, R.J., Barclay, G.J., Jordan, D. and Russell-White, C.J.
1988. The Neolithic henge-type enclosure at Balfarg – a re-
assessment of the evidence for an incomplete ditch circuit.
Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 118:61–
67.
Moloney, A. 1993. Excavations at Clonfinlough, Co. Offaly. Irish
Archaeological Wetland Unit, Transactions, 2. Dublin: Office
of Public Works / University College.
Musson C.R., Britnell, W.J. and Smith, A.G. 1991. The Breiddin
Hillfort: a later prehistoric settlement in the Welsh Marches.
CBA Research Report 76. London.
Needham, S.P. and Ambers, J. 1994. Redating Rams Hill and
reconsidering Bronze Age enclosure. Proceedings of the
Prehistoric Society 60:225–244.
Němejcová-Pavúková, V. 1995. Svodín I: zwei Kreisgrabenanlagen
der Lengyel-Kultur. Studia Archaeologica et Mediaevalia, II.
Bratislava: Comenius University, Philosophical Faculty.
Neustupný, E. 1998. The search for events and structures
in prehistoric landscapes. In E. Neustupný (ed.) Space
in Prehistoric Bohemia, pp. 62–76. Prague: Institute of
Archaeology.
Newman, T.G. 1976. A crop-mark site at Hasting Hill, Tyne and
Wear, NZ 355 541. Archaeologia Aeliana 5th series 4:183–
184.
Oswald, A., Dyer, C. and Barber, M. 2001. The Creation of
Monuments: Neolithic causewayed enclosures in the British
Isles. Swindon: English Heritage.
Państwowe Muzeum [Archeologiczne w Warszawie], 1991.
Prahistoryczny gród w Biskupinie. Problematyka osiedli
obronnych na początku epoki żelaza. Warsaw: Wydawnictwo
Naukowe PWN.
Petrasch, J. 1990. Mittelneolithische Kreisgrabenanlage in
Mitteleuropa. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission
71:407–564.
Podborský, V. 1988. Těšetice-Kyjovice 4: rondel osady lidu s
moravskou malovanou keramikou. Brno: Universita J.E.
Purkyně.
115
Harding: Enclosing and excluding in Bronze Age Europe
Primas, M. 2002. Taking the high ground: continental hill-forts in
Bronze Age contexts. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society
68:41–59.
Raftery, J. 1942. Knocknalappa crannóg, Co. Clare. North
Munster Antiquaries Journal 3:53–72.
Stanczik, I. 1982. Befestigungs- und Siedlungssystem von
Jászdózsa-Kápolnahalom in der Periode der Hatvan-Kultur.
In Beiträge zum bronzezeitlichen Burgenbau in Mitteleuropa,
pp. 377–88. Berlin: Zentralinstitut für Alte Geschichte
und Archäologie; Nitra: Archeologický Ústav Slovenskej
Akadémie Vied.
Tárnoki, J. 1988. The settlement and cemetery of the Hatvan
culture at Aszód. In Bronze Age Tell Settlements of the Great
Hungarian Plain I, pp.137–69. Inventaria Praehistorica
Hungariae 1. Budapest: Hungarian National Museum.
Tecchiati, U. 1998. Sotciastel: un abitato fortificato dell’età del
bronzo in Val Badia. Bolzano: Soprintendenza Provinciale ai
Beni Culturali.
Teržan, B., Mihovilić, K. and Hänsel, B. 1998. Eine
älterbronzezeitliche befestigte Siedlung von Monkodonja
bei Rovinj in Istrien. In H. Küster, A. Lang and P. Schauer
(eds.) Archäologische Forschungen in urgeschichtlichen
Siedlungslandschaften, Festschrift für Georg Kossack zum 75.
Geburtstag, pp. 155–84. Regensburg: Universitätsverlag /
Bonn: R. Habelt.
Tilley, C. 1994. A Phenomenology of Landscape: places, paths
and monuments. Oxford: Berg.
Točík, A. 1981. Nitrianský Hrádok – Zámeček, bronzezeitliche
befestigte Ansiedlung der Mad’arovce-Kultur. Materialia
Archaeologica Slovaca, 3. Nitra: Archeologický Ústav
Slovenskej Akadémie Vied.
Točík, A. 1994. Poznámky k problematike opevneného sídliska
otomanskej kultúry v Barci pri Košiciach. Študijné Zvesti
30:59–65.
Torke, W. 1990. Abschlußbericht zu den Ausgrabungen
in der ‘Siedlung Forschner’ und Ergebnisse der
Bauholzuntersuchungen. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen
Kommission 71:52–57.
Varndell, G. and Topping, P. (eds.) 2002. Enclosures in Neolithic
Europe. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Vladár, J. 1973. Osteuropäische und mediterrane Einflüsse im
Gebiet der Slowakei während der Bronzezeit. Slovenská
Archeológia 21:253–357.
Wainwright, G.J. and Smith, K. 1980. The Shaugh Moor project:
second report – the enclosure. Proceedings of the Prehistoric
Society 46:65–122.
Worth, R.H. 1953. In G.M. Spooner and F.S. Russel (eds.)
Dartmoor. Plymouth: privately published.
8: Defining community: iron, boundaries and transformation in
later prehistoric Britain
Richard Hingley
Abstract: Enclosed settlements were very common during
the later prehistoric period in Britain. This paper explores
the enclosure of such ‘settlements’ within southern Britain,
with a particular emphasis upon the Middle Iron Age (c.
300–50 BC). In particular, it addresses the nature of the acts
through which ironwork hoards were incorporated within
boundary earthworks on a number of hillforts and enclosed
settlements. The reasons why people deposited ironwork
hoards in the boundaries of settlements are discussed and
it is argued that these acts may have been related to the
definition (or re-definition) of a physical boundary, a barrier
that was imbued with a sense of history or a time depth. By
constructing physical boundaries people were seeking to
define the character of their communities.
Keywords: ironwork, currency bars, hillforts, boundaries,
hoards
Constructing ‘settlement’ in later
prehistoric Britain
One feature of later prehistory in Britain appears to be
the increasingly intensive focus of domestic occupation
within the southern British landscape. From around 1600
to 1000 BC (during the Middle to Later Bronze Age) certain
areas and locations appear to have come to be defined more
clearly in ways that are visible to archaeologists. In certain
areas, for instance Bodmin Moor (Cornwall) and Dartmoor
(Devon), people started to divide up the landscape with
linear earthworks from around 1700 BC (Bewley 1994:69–
71). In other areas, for instance parts of Wessex, broadly
comparable landscapes appear to date to a slightly later
date (Cunliffe 1995:27). It is likely that at this time over
these areas of southern Britain people were developing a
new attitude to land, as settlement and land-use became
more fixed (Cunliffe 1995:27). Growing evidence also
occurs for ‘settlement’ sites from around the mid second
millennium BC onward (Bewley 1994; Cunliffe 1995;
Haselgrove 1999:118–20). Roundhouses of a variety of
types constitute the dominant house type across Britain
from around this time until the end of the Iron Age and
beyond (Parker Pearson 1993:103; Hingley 1989:31),
although other house types are also known on some sites
(Haselgrove 1999:117). Excavations of these houses and
the ‘settlements’ of which they formed a part often produce
evidence for domestic occupation, information about the
everyday life of the inhabitants – textile production, food
preparation and cooking (Parker Pearson 1993:104). As a
result it is assumed that the individual ‘settlement’ was the
focus of day-to-day life during later prehistory.
The evidence for the increasing monumentalization
of houses and settlements in general suggests that, from
around 1100 BC, domestic activity became increasingly
focused upon particular locations in the landscape which
116
archaeologists term ‘settlements’. This draws a contrast with
the period of the earlier Bronze Age, in which communities
in the British Isles do not usually appear to have lived within
easily identifiable settlement sites (Brück 1999; Brück and
Goodman 1999). The construction of boundaries around
settlements from the Middle Bronze Age onward is one
element in this development of particular sites as the focus
for domestic life. In general on certain sites houses became
more substantial and permanent, while elsewhere boundary
works of a variety of types came to be defined. Some of
these Later Bronze Age settlements were formed of clusters
of roundhouses set within relatively insubstantial fenced
and ditched compounds (Bewley 1994:77–9), while others
developed rather more substantial boundaries defined by
ditches and earth banks (see, for instance, Barrett et al.
1991:225 and fig. 5.42).
During the Late Bronze Age enclosed settlements
proliferate. Early hillforts of a variety of types occur widely
across Britain (Bewley 1994:81–3; Cunliffe 1995:29–31)
and many other enclosed settlements are known. During the
Iron Age the settlement types become even more variable
(Collis, this volume) and areas of Britain are typified by
settlements of different forms (Bewley 1994:91–131; Davies
and Williamson (eds.) 1999; Cunliffe 1995; Hingley 2004;
Miles 1997). These settlements range from the relatively
heavily defended ‘hillfort’ sites that are often taken to typify
the Iron Age (Cunliffe 1995), to a variety of other enclosed
settlements of smaller dimensions and open, or unenclosed,
sites. The main period for the building of hillforts occurred
during the sixth and fifth centuries BC and these were
distributed across much, although not the whole, of Britain
(Fig. 8.1). A wide range of differing sites are represented
and, although most hillforts were located on hill tops, this
is a very varied class of sites. Around 350 to 300 BC many
hillforts were abandoned but a few ‘developed’ hillforts,
such as Danebury and Maiden Castle, came to prominence
in Wessex (Cunliffe 1995) and, perhaps, elsewhere. These
may have effectively acted as regional centres (Haselgrove
1999:121). They often have fairly elaborate boundaries
comprising multiple circuits of banks and ditches, with
complex entrance defences. The smaller enclosed
settlements are equally variable (Haselgrove 1999:117), in
terms of their shapes and also the area enclosed, as a number
of examples from across Britain demonstrates (Fig. 8.2).
Many of these settlements, in contrast to the hillforts, were
probably the homes of relatively small-scale family groups
(Haselgrove 1999).
This evidence gives the impression that society in Britain
became increasingly ‘boundary obsessed’ from the Middle
Bronze Age onward. In a discussion of Wessex, Hill
(1995b:104) has suggested that the Iron Age was dominated
by an increasing fixation for the construction of boundaries.
As hillforts and enclosed settlements occur in many parts
of Britain, perhaps Iron Age society across southern Britain
in general was obsessed by the idea of the boundary. We

Figure 8.1. Hillforts in southern Britain and the adjacent Continent (after Cunliffe 1995, fig. 35).
shall see later in this paper that this view is actually rather
over simplistic. For extensive periods of later prehistory
and across much of Britain unenclosed or ‘open’ settlements
appear to have predominated and it would certainly be
inaccurate to interpret the whole of the Iron Age of southern
Britain as boundary obsessed. It is equally true, however,
that the enclosed settlement forms a major feature of the Iron
Age settlement record across substantial parts of Britain.
Perhaps enclosed settlements are more easily located by
archaeologists because the people who constructed the
boundaries of the more dramatic of these sites were aiming
to create a monumental statement in physical form. The
very same physical statement has then drawn the attention
of archaeologists to the abandoned settlements.
Over the past 20 years a number of Iron Age specialists
have turned their attention to the significance of these
enclosure boundaries (Bowden and McOmish 1987; Collis
1996, this volume; Hill 1995a; Hingley 1984, 1990b).
These authors have attempted to examine the significance of
the boundary – the physical bank and ditch, wall or palisade
– that surrounded the settlement. Some have also studied
boundaries as a context for the deposition of artefacts.
Settlement boundaries formed the division between the area
of domestic life (incorporating activities such as sleeping
and eating), and the fields and other resource areas of the
settlement. Of perhaps even greater importance in some
cases, the settlement boundary formed the division between
the domestic area of one social group and the less easily
defensible land that bordered on the territories of other
social groups (e.g. Cohen 1985). The boundary represented
the physical isolation of the individual family group from
117
Hingley: Defining community
others within a broader community (Hingley 1984, 1990b;
Bowden and McOmish 1987). In the case of hillforts the
symbolic and ritual significance of the boundary is likely
to have been extended on occasions to include the need to
defend the resident community and its stored resources from
possible attack by outsiders (Avery 1986; Sharples 1991).
I shall explore the nature of some of the Middle Iron Age
enclosed sites further through a study of some significant
ironwork hoards deposited within them.
Ironwork hoarding and liminality
A tradition of ironwork hoarding developed in southern
Britain from perhaps around 300 BC to around 50 BC
(Manning 1972; Hingley 1997), during the period known
as the ‘Middle Iron Age’. My reason for exploring ironwork
hoarding in the context of this volume is due to the fact
that this phenomenon had a particular association with the
boundaries of hillforts and enclosed settlements (Hingley
1990a, 2005). These hoards contain a variety of iron items,
sometimes associated with organic objects. One common
occurrence in these hoards is the so-called ‘currency bar’
(Fig. 8.3). Recent work has defined ‘currency bars’ as one
of the forms of ‘trade iron’ that occurred in later prehistoric
southern Britain and certain areas of continental Europe
(Crew 1994, 1995). It is likely, although not certain, that
currency bars were in use during the period from about the
third/second century BC to around the end of the first century
BC (Hingley 2005). Four main kinds of currency bar have
been distinguished in past accounts (Allen 1967; Hingley
Enclosing the Past
Figure 8.2. Enclosed Iron Age settlements (after Haselgrove 1999, fig. 7.3).
1990a): sword-shaped, spit-shaped, plough-share and leaf-
shaped bars. Recent work, however, suggests that this rigid
classification no longer appears to be useful. Crew has cast
doubt upon the fourfold classification by demonstrating
that at least 20 distinct types of currency bars can now been
distinguished, including three or perhaps four distinct types
from the extensively excavated hillfort of Danebury alone
(1994:346; 1995:278). He has suggested that these types
probably represented the products of different regional
workshops and some have distinct regional distributions
(1995:277). Trade iron appears to have been one form in
which processed raw iron was distributed across certain
areas of Britain and the Continent at this time. It has been
argued, however, that the hoards in which these objects
occur often appear not to have had a utilitarian function in
118
the production of iron objects (Hingley 1990a; Martin and
Ruffat 1998).
These currency bars occur in hoards of between one to
393 bars in 69 distinct hoards within Britain (Hingley 2005).
The common utilitarian or functional explanation for the
deposition of currency bars that exists in many past accounts
needs to be amended to allow greater emphasis on the social
context of the acts of production, circulation and deposition
(Hingley 1990a, 1997, 2005). Currency bars presumably
only survive in the archaeological record because they
formed ‘hoards’ and were actually votive – a donation, or
obligation, to the gods (Manning 1972; Fitzpatrick 1984;
Brunaux 1988). This argument does not require that the
items in the hoards need to have been produced primarily
for deposition as votive objects. On the contrary, the objects

Figure 8.3. A currency bar from Park Farm, Warwickshire
(after Cracknell and Hingley 1994).
were presumably functional items of trade iron whose
deposition also had a symbolic significance. They were
deposited as acts of ritual that drew upon this practical and
symbolic significance without any intention of retrieval; this
explains why they have survived in archaeological contexts
(Hingley 1990a).
The standardization emphasised by the form of the currency
bar is reflected in a relatively standard set of contexts in
which these objects came to be deposited (Hingley 1990a
and in press), including settlements, temples, burials, a pit
alignment and other broadly ‘natural’ contexts (Table 8.1).
In particular, many hoards were buried in association with
settlement boundaries (Fig. 8.4). These define a core area
in the general distribution of currency bar hoards, with a
couple of outlying examples elsewhere in eastern England.
119
Hingley: Defining community
This core area includes the densest concentrations of finds
and also some of the largest hoards. Just over 50% of all
the hoards in which currency bars occur (38 out of 69) come
from definite settlement contexts (Hingley 2005), while the
others come from a range of ‘natural’ contexts (rivers, caves
and bogs), from burials and temple sites. All but one of the
settlement finds are from hillforts and enclosed settlements
(this forms 97% of the total number of bars from settlement
contexts).
The occurrence of currency bars on enclosed sites appears
to be highly significant. Although a high proportion of
Middle Iron Age settlements were enclosed, other sites
of this period are known to have been unenclosed and
some regions appear to have had entirely open patterns of
settlement. There has been an emphasis in the past upon the
excavation of enclosed Iron Age settlements, but this cannot
fully explain the pattern. Across much of the east of England
enclosed settlements generally appear to be rare, yet two
examples that have been excavated in recent years, Stanway
(Essex) and Hinchingbrooke Park Road (Cambridgeshire)
have produced currency bar hoards from their enclosure
boundaries (Hingley 2005). Many open settlements have
been excavated but very few currency bar hoards have been
found at such sites. The only hoard from an open settlement
was found within the settlement area at Worthy Down
(Hampshire), where it was placed in a pit apparently on the
periphery of the site (Hingley 1990a).
In addition, the vast majority of currency bars from
hillforts and enclosed settlements with detailed recorded
information on their archaeological context occur close to
or in the boundary earthwork, either within the ditch, in a pit
in the bank or within close proximity of the boundary (Table
8.2), although on six occasions they occurred in pits or other
features within the interior of the enclosure. The details of
these discoveries and the material associated with them have
already been published (Hingley 1990a:98; in press) and I
will not consider the information in any detail in this paper.
To explain this pattern it could be argued that currency bar
hoards were placed in large features such as ditches rather
then smaller contexts such as pits. The hoard from the pit at
Worthy Down and the fact that a number of the hoards from
hillforts come from pits dug into the back of the ramparts
(Hingley 1990a, table 2), however, indicate that pit burial
of currency bars appears not to have been prohibited. Many
of the pits that occur on Middle Iron Age sites in the south
were certainly large enough to receive a currency bar hoard
and special deposits are common in pits (Hill 1995b). Yet
when currency bars were buried in a pit this feature was
usually dug either into, or very close to, a physically-defined
boundary (Hingley 2005).
Currency bars occur within the boundary earthworks
of both hillforts and enclosed settlements. The common
occurrence of hoards on hillfort sites appears to be significant,
as enclosed settlements were certainly far more common
than were the more heavily fortified sites and have also
been excavated in greater numbers. 27 hoards come from
hillforts as against 10 from enclosed settlements and some of
the largest hoards have come from hillforts (Hingley 2005).
In fact 95% of the bars from settlement sites are derived
from hillfort contexts. Hoards from enclosed settlements
usually comprise comparatively small numbers of bars and
none constitute more than 10 bars, while some of the hoards
from hillforts contain a larger number.
Enclosing the Past

Context Number of hoards (% of total) Number of bars (% of total)

settlements
hillfort 27 (39%) 712 (46%)
enclosed settlements 10 (14%) 32 (2%)
open settlements 1 (1%) 13 (1%)

‘ritual’
temple 1 (1%) 2 (–)
barrow/burial 2 (3%) 4 (–)
pit alignment 1 (1%) 48 (3%)

‘natural’
rivers 7 (10%) 29 (2%)
bog/lake 3 (4%) 7 (1%)
cave 3 (4%) 5 (–)
rock 4 (6%) 314 (20%)

uncertain/other 10 (14%) 410 (26%)

_____ _____
total 69 1576
Table 8.1. Currency bars from various contexts (after Hingley 2005).

Figure 8.4. Currency bars at eight hillforts in southern Britain (after Hingley 1990a).

120
 Hingley: Defining community

Site context No. of bars Context

Bearwood (Dorset) enclosure 4 base fill of enclosure ditch
Beckford (Hereford and Worcester) enclosure 10 loose association with rampart
Blewburton (Oxfordshire) hillfort 1 rear of rampart
Bredon Hill (Hereford and Worcester) hillfort 2 between ramparts
Cadbury Castle 1 (Somerset) hillfort 1 pit close to back of rampart
Cadbury Castle 1 (Somerset) hillfort 1 pit in back of rampart
Danebury 1 (Hampshire) hillfort 21 loose association with rampart
Danebury 2 (Hampshire) hillfort 1 loose association with rampart
Danebury 3 (Hampshire) hillfort 1 loose association with rampart
Danebury 4 (Hampshire) hillfort 1 pit in interior of enclosure
Danebury 5 (Hampshire) hillfort 1 pit in interior of enclosure
Ditches (Gloucestershire) hillfort 10 base fill of enclosure ditch
Glastonbury 1 (Somerset) enclosure 1 just outside palisade/revetment
Glastonbury 2 (Somerset) enclosure 1 just outside palisade/revetment
Hinchingbrooke Park Road enclosure 2 fill of enclosure ditch
(Cambridgeshire)
Ham Hill (Somerset) hillfort c.70 uncertain
Hod Hill 1(Dorset) hillfort 17 loose association with rampart
Hod Hill 2 (Dorset) hillfort 10 uncertain
Hod Hill 3 (Dorset) hillfort 4 loose association with rampart
Hod Hill 4 (Dorset) hillfort 4 uncertain
Hunsbury (Northants) hillfort c.8 uncertain
Kingsdown (Somerset) enclosure 2 base fill of enclosure ditch
Madmarston (Oxfordshire) hillfort 12 pit in back of rampart
Maiden Castle (Dorset) hillfort 1 uncertain
Midsummer Hill (Hereford & Worcester) hillfort 1 uncertain
Meon Hill (Warwickshire) hillfort 393 rear of rampart
Nadbury (Warwickshire) hillfort 1 pit in back of rampart
Old Down Farm 1 (Hampshire) enclosure 2 pit in interior of enclosure
Old Down Farm 2 (Hampshire) enclosure 1 pit in interior of enclosure
Park Farm (Warwickshire) enclosure 1 top fill of enclosure ditch
Salmonsbury 1 (Gloucestershire) hillfort 147 pit in back of rampart
Salmonsbury 2 (Gloucestershire) hillfort 2 loose association with rampart
Salmonsbury 3(Gloucestershire) hillfort 1 ditch in interior of enclosure
Spettisbury (Dorset) hillfort 5 fill of enclosure ditch
Stanway (Essex) enclosure 2 bottom fill of enclosure ditch
Uleybury (Gloucestershire) hillfort 2 fill of enclosure ditch
Winklebury (Hampshire) hillfort 1 pit in interior of enclosure
Worthy Down (Hampshire) open 13 pit on edge of open settlement
settlement
Table 8.2. The contexts of currency bars from settlements (updated from Hingley 1990a, table 2 and 3).

Liminality and iron
Ethnographically the process of iron smelting is often
highly ritualized (e.g. Gillies 1981; Fitzpatrick 1984:184;
Budd and Taylor 1995; Hingley 1997), the smith being
regarded as a specialist who was on the margin of society.
It is possible that the reason for this lies partly in the process
of iron production – the transformation of raw iron ore
into finished tools and weapons, objects of power (Hingley
1997). From this perspective the currency bar may be seen
as a stage in the transformation of the raw material from
which it is made to the finished object – the sword, the
plough or other object. Thus the currency bar itself fixes
an artefact part of the way in a process of transformation,
between the materials collected (raw materials derived from
the landscape) and the objects produced (culture).
Iron in the Iron Age was obtained from outside the
domestic domain. Musty has suggested that the iron used
to smelt Iron Age tools may actually have been available
over much of southern Britain on the land cultivated by
farmers (1989; Hingley 1997). In other words, individual
communities in some areas may have been collecting the
iron ore necessary to create their iron objects from their own
fields in the territory surrounding the settlement. It would
then be smelted and worked – perhaps on the boundary of
the settlement (Hingley 1997) – before being brought into
the settlement itself for use as tools and weapons. Two of
the models for Iron Age currency bars are the sword and
the plough-share (ibid.). Although the detailed typological
scheme for four types of bar has been undermined by recent
work, it remains true that the sword and the plough remained
the model for many of these distinct regionally-defined
bar types (Hingley 2005). The burial of items that draw
symbolically upon the idea of the weapon or the plough may
therefore have significance in marking out a liminal stage
in transformation of raw material into a cultural weapon
or tool. The currency bar effectively fixed this liminality

121
Enclosing the Past
at one point in time. It was, in turn, often used to help to
reinforce physical boundaries through the significant acts of
deposition in which it was hoarded.
The ritual of currency bar deposition may have formed
a metaphor for the agricultural cycle and for relations of
power in central and western Britain during the Iron Age
(Hingley 1997). Iron was harvested from the ground as a raw
material and transformed into tools/weapons representing
culture. At an intermediate stage is the currency bar, an
iron ingot imbued with symbolism. At the same time the
symbols inherent in the currency bar reflect agricultural
fertility through the plough and military power through the
sword. Military might was necessary to provide the context
within which excess agricultural and industrial goods could
be produced and stored. The burial of currency bars in
significant contexts may, therefore, embody the structure of
agricultural production and also relations of power within
Iron Age societies (ibid.).
The sword was a symbol of military power and
consequential political status. The deposition of a symbolic
sword may have represented a votive act related to the
defence of a community. If this was so, it is of little surprise
that currency bars that draw upon the symbolism of the sword
occur in the context of settlement boundaries, rivers and
other ‘natural’ contexts (Hingley 1990a). It is not surprising
to find ritual behaviour associated with boundaries of such
significance. In addition to currency bars, other deposits of
potential significance also occur in the ditches and ramparts
of Iron Age hillforts and enclosed settlements (see Bowden
and McOmish 1987; Hingley 1990b; Hill 1995b). The
boundary forms the physical defence for the community
and the symbol of the currency bars that are based upon the
form of the sword metaphorically reinforced this physical
barrier. This may be the case even when, as in the case of
some enclosed settlements, the barrier was not physically
strong and acted to keep out wild animals and to define the
domestic sphere from the fields of the community; even in
this context the definition and perpetuation of the domestic
group was of vital importance (Hingley 1984).
The relevance of the votive plough-share is less certain
(Brunaux 1988:94–5). The plough should have represented a
symbol of agricultural production and possibly of the fertility
of the land. As a symbol its deposition may be connected
with the continued agricultural cycle and the fertility of
the soil. A complementary idea is that ploughs may have
been intended to commemorate a sacred ploughing and that
they possibly even acted to define the extent of property
(Brunaux 1988:94; Rykwert 1995 discusses the symbolic
use of the plough to define the lines of the boundaries of
towns in the classical world). If this was the case, the
burial of a symbolic plough-share in a boundary context
may have had ritual significance in terms of the definition
of the settlement enclosure, sacred enclosure, territorial or
even tribal boundary. This is especially true since some
of these plough-share bars are so long as to appear almost
impractical (see Hingley 1990a). Other plough-shares
occur in significant archaeological contexts on Iron Age
sites throughout Britain and may also have been deposited
as ritual acts (for instance, Hingley 1992).
Outside the core area of the distribution of currency bars,
other types of depositional practices predominate, but these
may also relate to liminality in various ways. Currency bar
hoards also occur in what I have titled ‘natural’ contexts,
from rivers, bogs/lakes, rocky outcrops and caves (Hingley
122
1990a). Prolific evidence exists for the deposition of
metalwork and other items in rivers, bogs, and also from
significant dry-land contexts throughout later prehistory in
the British Isles (Fox 1946; Manning 1972; Fitzpatrick
1984; Waite 1985; Bradley 1990; Hill 1995b). It is
probable that the location of currency bars from all these
types of settlement and ‘natural’ contexts indicates ritual
deposition. Regarding the finds from ‘natural’ contexts
and the temple find from Hayling Island (Hampshire),
Bradley has suggested that Iron Age ritual deposition was
tightly regulated and that major political territories were
marked out by the deposition of ritual goods (1987:360). At
Hayling Island many of the iron objects came from close to
the outer boundary of the temple, mimicking the context of
the deposition of hoards within settlements in the core area.
River and temple deposits are other types of context that
defined these tribal boundaries, according to Bradley (1987).
Currency bar hoards have also been found in Anglesey and
at the southern tip of the Isle of Wight. In these cases the
hoards possibly marked out a larger-scale boundary than
that of the tribe – the boundary of the islands that lie off the
coast of Britain (Hingley 1990a:108).
Marking out time
Some currency bars hoards have other significant
associations. For example, at Hayling Island temple site the
bars were found associated with Iron Age weapons, limited
quantities of human bone, animal bone, and other Iron Age
finds (King and Soffe 1998), while at Winster (Derbyshire)
one bar was buried with a crouched inhumation (Beswick
and Wright 1991). This bar was placed at the back of
the skeleton, pointing toward the feet. Although it was
described by the original excavator as a spearhead it was
subsequently been identified as currency bar (Beswick and
Wright 1991:45). Spears and swords were buried with some
inhumations during the Iron Age, while plough-shares have
not been found in burial contexts. This may suggest that
the Winster currency bar was used in this burial context to
symbolize a spear or sword. Indeed, it may provide another
metaphorical association between the transformatory
process of iron-working, fertility (the plough-share) and
death (the dead person and the sword/spear).
The metaphor of the life cycle may once again serve to
define the contexts in which these hoards occur as liminal,
and the evidence for the context of the burial of currency
bars in settlement boundaries may support the idea that
they acted as temporal signifiers (Hingley, in press). This
evidence may indicate that the placement of the objects
was of significance in the definition of the history of the
community that occupied the site (see Gosden and Lock
1998 for the concept of prehistoric histories). At Kingsdown
(Somerset) and the Ditches (Gloucestershire) the hoards
appear to have been placed at or close to the base of the
ditch, while at Stanway (Essex) they were on the side of
the ditch but in an early phase of the fill (Philip Crummy,
pers. comm.). Deposits placed in an early context within
the ditches of enclosed sites and hillforts might have related
to the construction, or reconstruction, of an enclosure. At
Hinchinbroke Park Farm (Cambridgeshire) the bars were
again placed soon after the cutting of the ditch but at this
site the ditch replaced two earlier phases of boundary
(Mark Hinman, pers. comm.). By contrast to these sites, at

Madmarston (Oxfordshire) and at Nadbury (Warwickshire)
the placement of the currency bars in pits cut into the rear
of the rampart was very much a secondary activity. That
this occurred some time after the construction of the rampart
indicates that the settlement boundary retained significant
associations after its construction and during its period of
use (Hingley 1990a). The deposition of the hoard into a
silted-up pit that formed part of the pit alignment at Gretton
(Northamptonshire) was also secondary (ibid.). Perhaps
hoards may sometimes have formed part of termination
deposits.
The idea that currency bars may have been placed in
termination, or rededication, deposits requires to be studied
further and ironwork hoards might benefit from a similar
approach. It appears significant that an iron ‘blacksmith’s
poker’ from Billingborough (Lincolnshire) was placed during
the Iron Age into a shallow recut or pit in the top of a Bronze
Age ditch on the edge a settlement (Chowne et al. 2001:94).
At Madmarston, Nadbury, Gretton and Billingborough iron
objects of varying types could have related to termination
rituals when a settlement or feature was going out of use,
or being put out of use. These hoards may therefore have
related to boundaries in time – the creation, redefinition
or the abandonment of a physical barrier by a community.
Accurate recording of additional excavated examples should
allow this suggestion to be considered in greater detail.
Creating community
Barrett has suggested that political authority in the Iron
Age may have drawn on the metaphor of the agricultural
cycle – ‘the cycle of life / death, the ability to both kill and
bestow fertility’ (Barrett 1989:3; see also Hingley 1997).
Hoards of currency bars are quite often found associated with
other finds, including other metal objects and bone (Hingley
1990a), although they also appear to occur unaccompanied.
The contextual information may suggest that large hoards,
small hoards, and single bars represent part of a common
set of rituals. Large numbers of bars probably indicate the
payment of sizeable quantities of valuable metal as a gift to
the gods (e.g. Bradley 1984, 1990; Fitzpatrick 1984). As
these offerings were evidently not intended for retrieval, the
act of deposition would put quantities of valuable metal out
of commission.
The burial of metalwork indicated the conspicuous
consumption of surplus wealth. It is possible that at the same
time it related to the control of the distribution of iron and the
working of iron into weapons and tools. The standardization
evident in the form and weight of currency bars from single
workshops (Crew 1995) may indicate local control over
production and circulation. In fact the idea that currency
bars form trade iron may itself suggest a degree of control
over iron production. Such a form of centralized control
could also help to explain the strong patterning evident in
the deposition of currency bars. Analysis of the number of
currency bars per hoard demonstrates that hoards of more
than ten bars are unknown from enclosed settlements, while
several large hoards are known from hillforts and ‘natural’
contexts (Table 8.2). Large and small hoards may indicate
the same ritual practice, but perhaps the larger hoards were
associated with more ‘powerful’ ritual, practised by a larger
and more powerful community (Hingley 1990a). Small
hoards can then be defined as constituting less important
123
Hingley: Defining community
or less urgent rituals or as being the offerings of smaller
or less powerful communities or households. In any case,
the large hoards may indicate where powerful groups were
sacrificing substantial quantities of valuable material in an
act that emphasised the physical boundary and the stability
of the group in time (Sharples 1991).
For those hoards that were inserted into settlement
boundary contexts there is an apparent association with
the whole of the boundary, rather than with one particular
element within it. Thus currency bars are found just outside
the boundary of the settlement, in the ditch, in pits dug into
the back of ramparts, and in loose associations close to
ramparts (Table 8.2). The nature of the context is likely to
be significant. The positioning of some hoards in pits in the
rear of hillfort ramparts may have formed part of a highly
visible rite that was witnessed by a larger community within
the enclosed area. The deposition of hoards in rivers and
bogs might have formed an equally conspicuous symbolic
act at other locations in the landscape. That some hoards of
currency bars were tied together in a group (Hingley 2005)
may indicate that the objects were required to be placed into
a context by a group of people. The selection of this group
will have been part of the ritual act. The social context
of ironwork hoarding, and its relationship to the Iron Age
landscape and to constructed space, would benefit from
additional study of the physical character of the contexts in
which the acts of iron hoarding occurred on sites.
Unbounded settlement
The idea that Iron Age society across the whole of southern
Britain was boundary obsessed is an oversimplification;
this is indicated by at least two observations. Firstly, certain
areas of southern Britain do not produce very much evidence
for the enclosure of settlement. Across the east of Britain
most of the settlements of Iron Age date that have been
located appear to have been open (Davies and Williamson
(eds.) 1999). The same is true for the area of Scotland to the
north of the Forth (Hingley 1992) and certain well known
areas of the Midlands, for instance, the Upper Thames
Valley (Miles 1997). In the Upper Thames Valley, from the
Middle Iron Age onward, it was the individual roundhouses
that were enclosed and not the settlement into which they
clustered. Settlement sites in some parts of Britain are very
hard to locate indeed, for instance in Lancashire (Haselgrove
1996), and these may also have been open in character. In
fact for much of Britain in the Iron Age settlements have
proved very difficult to locate (see the ‘black holes’ listed in
Haselgrove et al. 2001, table 3). Occasional sites occur but
we have really very little idea of the nature of the settlement
pattern. Perhaps the relative absence of evidence for Iron
Age settlement across the east and the northwest of England
may have something to do with the existence of a radically
different way of life in various areas of Britain during later
prehistory. People in these areas may have lived in a more
flexible manner that did not lead to the creation of well-
defined settlement sites at focal points in the landscape.
Alternatively, perhaps they were simply less obsessed by the
boundaries of the household/settlement than the occupants
of Wessex and other areas.
Secondly, where excavation has focused upon enclosed
settlements, it has often been shown that the enclosed phase
was merely a short period in the duration of a longer-lived
Enclosing the Past
settlement. These enclosures have often been located as
a result of aerial photography and subsequent excavation
has proved the situation to be rather more complex. Many
settlements passed through both open and enclosed phases,
for instance, Winnal Down/Easton Lane (Hampshire;
Fasham et al. 1989) and Fisher Road, Port Seaton (East
Lothian; Haselgrove and McCullagh 2000). In fact,
even in areas in which enclosed settlements do appear to
predominate, open settlements may originally have been
far more common than enclosed examples (Haselgrove
1999:117).
The general absence of currency bar hoards from open
settlements (above) could be explained if it is supposed
that people on these sites were generally less concerned
with rituals that related to the definition of the boundary
of the social groups living within the individual settlement
(Hingley 1984). This would help to explain both the
absence of physical boundaries around the settlement and
the scarcity of currency bar hoards at these sites. Caution
is therefore required in reading too much into the evidence
of the distribution of hoards. The scarcity of currency
bar hoards from open settlements may merely reflect a
differing tradition of ritual practice with less of a focus
upon the physical bounding of the social group that lived
at the individual settlement. Perhaps in some of the areas
without a strong tradition of the enclosure of settlements the
currency bars were disposed of in ‘natural’ contexts such
as caves and rivers or in a way that has not resulted in clear
archaeological traces.
Summary
I have studied the development of the concept of the
settlement enclosure within southern Britain from the Later
Bronze Age onward. I have focused my attention of one
particular body of evidence that may help us to comprehend
the significance of some of the boundaries that were built
around enclosed settlement and hillforts from around 300
BC until the end of the first millennium BC. Generally
comparable forms of settlement exist also for the Late
Bronze Age and Early Iron Age, but the significance of the
boundaries on these sites may differ from the Middle Iron
Age contexts examined in some detail in this paper. It is
only during the Middle Iron Age that iron became common
in southern Britain and it appears that at this time it took
on a distinct association with physical and topographical
boundaries. It is possible that ironwork hoards, particularly
those that contain currency bars, were deposited as part
of a ritual of power related to the control of production
(agricultural and industrial), distribution and warfare, while
at the same time representing a metaphor of power relations
symbolized in the productive cycle.
A number of distinct contexts of burial define two regions
with related types of ritual. In the core region currency bar
hoards occur in the context of settlement boundaries with
a few examples of a similar practice occurring outside this
area; while beyond currency bar hoards occur in natural
contexts, on temple sites and in other significant contexts.
In the core area these acts may have related both to the
creation and the maintenance of the settlement boundary
and the community that used the hillforts and enclosed
settlements. Outside this area currency bars were often
deposited in rivers, lakes/bogs, among rocks, at temples, in
124
settlement boundaries and with burials. These traditions of
deposition in this peripheral area may relate to the definition
of boundaries between peoples, while traditions over the
whole area in which the bars occur may also have related to
the boundaries between life and death.
Acknowledgements
My thanks to Richard Bradley, Andrew Fitzpatrick, Chris
Gosden, Colin Haselgrove, Niall Sharples and Christina
Unwin for discussions of various ideas that are developed in
this paper and to the editors of this book for their invitation
to contribute to the volume.
Bibliography
Allen, D. 1967. Iron Currency Bars in Britain. Proceedings of the
Prehistoric Society 33:307–335.
Avery, M. 1986. ‘Stoning and Fire’ at hill-fort entrances in southern
Britain. World Archaeology 18:216–230.
Barrett, J. 1989. Food, gender and metal: questions of social
reproduction. In M.L.S. Sørenson and R. Thomas (eds.) The
Bronze Age – Iron Age Transition in Europe 1–2: aspects
of continuity and societies c. 1200 to 500 BC, pp. 304–320.
British Archaeological Reports, Internat. Ser. 483. Oxford:
British Archaeological Reports.
Barrett, J.C., Bradley, R. and Green, M. 1991. Landscape,
Monuments and Society: the prehistory of Cranborne Chase.
Cambridge: University Press.
Beswick, P. and Wright, M.E. 1991. Iron Age burials from Winster.
In R. Hodges and K. Smith (eds.) Recent developments in
the Archaeology of the Peak District, pp. 45–56. Sheffield
Archaeological Monographs No. 2. Sheffield.
Bewley, R. 1994. Book of Prehistoric Settlements. London,
Batsford.
Bowden, M. and McOmish, D. 1987. The required barrier. Scottish
Archaeological Review 4:76–84
Bradley, R. 1984. The Social Foundations of Prehistoric Britain.
London: Harlow.
Bradley, R. 1987. Stages in the chronological development of
hoards and votive deposits. Proceedings of the Prehistoric
Society 53:351–62.
Bradley, R. 1990. The Passage of Arms: an archaeological
analysis of prehistoric hoards and votive deposits. Cambridge:
University Press.
Brück, J. 1999. What’s in a settlement? Domestic practices and
residential mobility in Early Bronze Age southern England.
In J. Brück and M. Goodman (eds.) Making Places in the
Prehistoric World: themes in settlement archaeology, pp. 52–
75. London: UCL Press.
Brück, J. and Goodman, M. 1999. Introduction: themes for a
critical archaeology of prehistoric settlement. In J. Brück and
M. Goodman (eds.), Making Places in the Prehistoric World:
themes in settlement archaeology, pp. 1–19. London: UCL
Press.
Brunaux, J. 1988. The Celtic Gauls: Gods, Rites and Sanctuaries.
London, Seaby.
Budd, P. and Taylor. T. 1995. The faerie smith meets the bronze
industry: magic verses science in the interpretation of
prehistoric metalworking. World Archaeology 27:133–43.
Chowne, P., Cleal, R., Fitzpatrick, A. and Andrews, P. 2001.
Excavations at Billingborough, Lincolnshire, 1975–8: a
Bronze Age-Iron Age settlement and salt-working site. East
Anglian Archaeology Report No. 94. Salisbury.
Cohen, A. 1985. The Symbolic Construction of Community.
London.
Collis, J.R. 1996. Hill-forts, enclosures and boundaries. In

T.C. Champion and J. Collis (eds.) The Iron Age in Britain
and Ireland: recent trends, pp. 87–94. Sheffield: J.R. Collis
Publications.
Cracknell, S. and Hingley, R. 1994. Park Farm, Barford:
excavation of a prehistoric settlement site, 1988. Transactions
of the Birmingham and Warwickshire Archaeological Society
100:1–24.
Crew, P. 1994. Currency bars in Great Britain. In M. Mangin (ed.)
La Sidérurgie ancienne de l’Est de la France dans son contexte
européen: archéologie et archéométrie. Actes du Colloque de
Besançon, 10–13 novembre 1993. Paris: Annales littéraires de
l’Université de Besançon 536:345–350.
Crew, P. 1995. Aspects of the iron supply. In B. W. Cunliffe (ed.)
Danebury, an Iron Age hillfort in Hampshire: volume 6, a
hillfort community in perspective. CBA Research Report 102.
London.
Cunliffe, B. 1978. Iron Ages Communities in Britain. London,
Routledge.
Cunliffe, B. 1984. Danebury: an Iron Age Hill-Fort in Hampshire,
Volumes I and 2. London: Council for British Archaeology.
Cunliffe, B. 1995. Iron Age Britain. London, Batsford / English
Heritage.
Davies, J. and Williamson, T. (eds.)1999. Land of the Iceni: Iron
Age in northern East Anglia. Studies in East Anglia History 4.
Norwich: University of East Anglia.
Fasham, P., Farwell, D. and Whinney, R. 1989. The Archaeological
Site at Easton Lane, Winchester. Gloucester, Hampshire Field
Club Monograph 6.
Fitzpatrick, A. 1984. The Deposition of La Tène Iron Age
metalwork in watery contexts in southern England. In B.
Cunliffe and D. Miles (eds.) Aspects of the Iron Age in Central
Southern Britain, pp.178–190. Oxford: University of Oxford
Committee for Archaeology.
Fox, C. 1946. A Find of the Early Iron Age from Llyn Cerrig Bach,
Anglesey. Cardiff: National Museum of Wales.
Gillies, W. 1981. The Craftsman in Early Celtic Literature.
Scottish Archaeological Forum 2:70–85.
Gosden C. and Lock, G. 1998. Prehistoric histories. World
Archaeology 30:2–12.
Haselgrove, C. 1996. The Iron Age. In R. Newman (ed.) The
Archaeology of Lancashire: present state and future priorities,
pp. 61–73. Lancaster: Lancaster University Archaeological
Unit.
Haselgrove, C. 1999. The Iron Age. In J. Hunter and I. Ralston
(eds.) The Archaeology of Britain: an introduction from the
Upper Palaeolithic to the industrial revolution, pp. 113–134.
London / New York, Routledge.
Haselgrove, C., Armit, I. et al. 2001. Understanding the British
Iron Age: an agenda for action. Salisbury.
Haselgrove, C. and McCullagh, R. 2000. An Iron Age Coastal
Community in East Lothian: the excavation of two later
prehistoric enclosure complexes at Fisher Road, Port Seaton,
1994–5. Edinburgh.
Hill, J.D. 1995a. How should we understand Iron Ages Societies
and hillforts? In J.D. Hill and C. Cumberpatch (eds.) Different
125
Hingley: Defining community
Iron Ages: studies on the Iron Age in temperate Europe, pp.
45–66 . Oxford.
Hill, J.D. 1995b. Rituals and Rubbish in the Iron Age of Wessex.
British Archaeological Reports British Series 242. Oxford:
British Archaeological Reports.
Hingley, R. 1984. Towards social analysis in archaeology: Celtic
society in the Iron Age of the Upper Thames Valley. In B.
Cunliffe and D. Miles (eds.) Aspects of the Iron Age in Central
Southern Britain, pp. 72–88. Oxford: University of Oxford
Committee for Archaeology.
Hingley, R. 1989. Rural Settlement in Roman Britain. London:
Seaby.
Hingley, R. 1990a. Iron Age ‘Currency Bars’: the archaeological
and social context. Archaeological Journal 147:91–117.
Hingley, R. 1990b. Boundaries surrounding Iron Age and
Romano-British Settlements. Scottish Archaeological Review
7:96–103.
Hingley, R. 1992. Society in Scotland from 700 BC to AD 200.
Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 122:7–
54.
Hingley, R. 1997. Iron, ironworking and regeneration: a study of
the symbolic meaning of metalworking in Iron Age Britain.
In A. Gwilt and C. Haselgrove (eds.) Reconstructing Iron Age
Societies: new approaches to the British Iron Age. Oxbow
Monograph 71, pp. 9–18. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Hingley, R. 2004. Rural settlement in northern Britain during the
Roman Period. In M. Todd (ed.) Blackwell‘s History of Roman
Britain, 327–48. Oxford, Blackwell.
Hingley, R. 2005. Iron Age ‘Currency Bars’ in Britain: items of
exchange in liminal contexts? In C. Haselgrove and D. Wigg-
Wolf (eds.) Iron Age Coinages and Ritual Practices. Studien
zu Fundmünzen der Antike, pp.183–206. Mainz.
King, A. and Soffe, G. 1998. Internal organisation and deposition
at the Iron Age temple on Hayling Island. Hampshire Studies
53:35–47.
Manning, W. 1972. Ironwork hoards in Iron Age and Roman
Britain. Britannia 3:224–50.
Martin, Th. and Ruffat, H. 1998. Un dépôt de lingots de fer du
début de La Tène III à Montans (Tarn). In M. Feugère and
V. Serneels (eds.) Recherches sur l’économie du fer en
Méditerranée nord-occidentale, pp.110–115. Montagnac:
éditions Monique Mergoil.
Miles, D. 1997. Conflict and complexity: The later prehistory of
the Oxford region. Oxoniensia 112:1–19.
Musty, J. 1989. Science Diary. Current Archaeology 10:314.
Parker Pearson, M. 1993. Bronze Age Britain. London, Batsford
/ English Heritage.
Rykwert, J. 1995. The Idea of a Town: the anthropology of urban
form in Rome, Italy and the ancient world. London.
Sharples, N. 1991. Warfare and the Iron Age of Wessex. Scottish
Archaeological Review 8:79–89.
Wait, G.A. 1985. Ritual and Religion in Iron Age Britain. British
Archaeological Reports, British Series 149. Oxford: British
Archaeological Reports.
9: Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen
Susanne Sievers
Summary: Celtic oppida in Central Europe (defended sites
of the 2nd and 1st century BC) show more or less the same
development as undefended (open) sites. The only difference
between them is the fortification. Apart from this both types
of settlements display the same linear elements (connection-
lines, closed and open units), which could be of social,
ritual or other common functional nature. The various
combinations of these elements are typical for different
settlement patterns, being dependant on geographical,
political or economic factors. The fortifications of the
oppida are considered not only as signs for the display of
power but also as symbols of the complex network of Celtic
life and the danger menacing late Celtic society.
Keywords: Central Europe, Middle and Late La Tène,
oppidum, fortification, development of towns, systems of
communication
Unter den umfriedeten Plätzen haben die keltischen
Oppida lange Zeit in ganz besonderer Weise die Diskussion
um die Funktion prähistorischer Befestigungen beherrscht.
Wurde anfangs vor allem vor dem Hintergrund Caesars
Schilderungen der Eroberung Galliens der fortifikatorische
Aspekt hervorgehoben (Werner 1939:381f.), betonte man
in den letzten Jahren zunehmend den Symbolgehalt der
Anlagen (Repräsentation, Machtdarstellung), was so weit
ging, dass man die Verteidigungsfunktion gänzlich in Abrede
stellte (Fichtl 2000:71). Da der Innenraum – besonders bei
den auf eher unzugänglichen Höhen gelegenen Oppida
– nur selten großflächig erforscht werden konnte, begnügte
man sich hier oft mit wenigen Schnitten, die in der Regel
allein den Wall betrafen. So entstand in erster Linie eine
Typologie der Befestigungsweisen. Ziel dieses Beitrages
soll es deshalb vor allem sein, die Oppida als Ganzes – nicht
nur unter dem Aspekt der Befestigung, sondern auch der
linearen Binnenstrukturen – zu hinterfragen.
Das Thema verlangt, um Missverständnissen vorzubeugen,
nach einer Definition des Begriffs “Oppidum”. Ohne
in eine Grundsatzdebatte eintreten zu wollen oder eine
allgemeingültige Definition anzustreben, werden in
dem hier interessierenden Zusammenhang unter Oppida
befestigte Großsiedlungen des 2. und 1. Jahrhunderts v. Chr.
verstanden. Dabei ist auf eine abweichende Verwendung des
Begriffes in Teilen Frankreichs hinzuweisen, wo auch jede
noch so kleine Befestigung als Oppidum bezeichnet wird.
Im Zentrum dieses Beitrages werden jedoch die großen
Oppida Mitteleuropas stehen, die gewöhnlich deutlich mehr
als 30ha umfassen (Collis 1984:1–8; Fichtl 2000:9–19).
Von besonderem Interesse sind diejenigen, die großflächig
gegraben sind. Zu nennen sind hier beispielhaft Bibracte,
Hrazany, Manching, Martberg, Staré Hradisko, Titelberg,
Variscourt / Condé-sur-Suippe, Villeneuve-St-Germain und
Závist. Von den meisten übrigen Anlagen liegen leider nur
Wallschnitte und Torgrabungen vor; größere Aufdeckungen
im Inneren sind relativ selten1.
1
Vgl. die Pläne bei Collis (1984) und Fichtl (2000), aus denen aber leider
nicht die gegrabenen Flächen hervorgehen.
126
Grundsätzlich ist in den Oppida mit einer großen Vielfalt an
linearen Elementen zu rechnen, die z.T. der Gliederung des
weiträumigen Siedlungsraumes dienten. Nur wenige hiervon
sind allerdings auf befestigte Siedlungen beschränkt. Es ist
dabei zu bedenken, dass einige Oppida aus offenen Siedlungen
hervorgegangen sind, wenn auch die Entstehungsgeschichte
meist nicht im Detail nachzuvollziehen ist. Als typisches
Beispiel für die Entwicklung eines Oppidums aus einer
offenen Siedlung kann hier Manching angeführt werden
(Sievers 1999). Vor allem bei den auf Höhen angelegten
Oppida wird davon ausgegangen, dass es sich bei ihnen
um geplante Siedlungsgründungen handelt. Der im Aisne-
Tal festgestellte Siedlungswechsel von einer offenen
Siedlung in ein Oppidum und umgekehrt (Brun, Chartier
u. Pion 2000) illustriert die Schwierigkeiten einer klaren
Definition bestens. In dieser Situation liegt es nahe, nach
den Funktionen der einzelnen linearen Elemente zu fragen,
die hier zunächst nach Typen getrennt vorgestellt werden.
1. Verbindungslinien. Hierzu gehören Wege und Straßen,
die gepflastert (Meduna 1970, Beilage 5) oder von Gräben
(Sievers 2000, Beilage 1 Mitte) flankiert sein konnten. Oft
zeichnen sie sich jedoch nur als befundfreie Streifen ab.
Sie waren gewöhnlich an natürlichen Gegebenheiten wie
Wasserläufen oder Höhenlinien orientiert; ihre Anlage kann
aber auch planmäßigem Handeln entsprungen sein, was in
der Regel an einem rechtwinkligen Gefüge zu erkennen ist.
Letzteres gilt auch für größere Drainage- und Kanalsysteme,
wie wir sie von Manching (Sievers 1998, Beilage 6) und
Villeneuve-St-Germain (Debord u.a. 1988; Peyre 2000)
(Abb. 9.1) kennen. Sie dienten der Kommunikation und
repräsentierten als Teil der Infrastruktur die öffentliche
Ordnung.
2. Geschlossene Einheiten von rechteckigem oder ovalem
Grundriss. Entsprechend der Topographie einzelner Oppida
zeichnet sich eine Parzellierung ab, die mehr oder weniger
die natürlichen Gegebenheiten widerspiegelt. Typisch
ist eine meist gehöftartige Bebauung, die einheimischer
eisenzeitlicher Tradition entspricht. Es ist hierbei an die
hallstattzeitlichen Herrenhöfe Mitteleuropas zu erinnern,
aber auch an die Bebauung der sog. Fürstensitze wie
z.B. der Heuneburg (Gersbach 1996 Beilagen 1–18). Im
Gegensatz zu den Verbindungslinien haben wir es hier mit
Linien zu tun, die einen geschlossenen inneren Bereich
von einem äußeren trennen. Die sich so abzeichnende
Kennzeichnung und Sicherung des eigenen Besitzes dürfte
auch mit Rechtsansprüchen einher gegangen sein.
a) Zäune, Palisaden (Gräben) und Laubengänge
(Portiken) um Gehöfte (Abb. 9.2) markieren die realen
Besitzgrenzen, symbolisieren aber auch die Grenzen von
unmittelbarem Einfluss und Macht. Die ursprüngliche
Funktion, der Schutz (auch der eigenen Haustiere) vor
wilden Tieren, tritt hier ganz in den Hintergrund. Einige
Gehöfte werden als einfache Bauernhöfe, andere als Sitz
der Nobilität mit ihrer Klientel interpretiert (Schubert
1994:186–192; Köhler 1992:56–64; Sievers 1992:326–

Abbildung 9.1. Das Oppidum von Villeneuve-St-Germain und sein Kanalsystem (nach Fichtl 2000:78).
335; Meduna 1970:39–50; Jansová 1965; Pion 1994).
Gewöhnlich verfügten sie neben reinen Wohnbauten über
landwirtschaftliche und handwerkliche Einrichtungen,
womöglich sogar über eigene Heiligtümer. Insofern
ähneln die größeren Einheiten den allerdings massiver
befestigten Viereckschanzen (Wieland 1999; vgl. auch
Beitrag Wieland in diesem Band S. 135ff.).
b) Von vergleichbarem Umriss sind Felder, die von
Gräben umgeben sind (Küster 1992:451–455 Beilage
7; 20), die sicher auch der Drainage dienten. Ob die
Felder zusätzlich von flachen Wällen umgrenzt waren,
die u.a. den Wind abhielten, ist in der Regel nicht mehr
zu rekonstruieren. Offen ist auch die Frage, ob sie
sich in öffentlichem oder privatem Besitz befanden.
Mit der Ausdehnung einer Siedlung dürfte manches
ursprünglich landwirtschaftlich genutzte Stück Land in
Bauland, in unserem Falle in ein Gehöft, umgewandelt
worden sein.
c) Kleine rechteckige Grabengevierte mit runden oder
viereckigen Zentralbauten werden gewöhnlich als
Bestandteile von Heiligtümern oder Speichern gedeutet.
Wo wir nur zwei oder drei solcher Befunde innerhalb
eines Oppidums kennen, wie in Manching (Abb. 9.3),
scheint die Wahrscheinlichkeit groß, dass die Gräbchen
Heiligtümer bzw. Sonderbauten umgaben. Meist
weisen die Eingänge nach Osten oder Süden (Schubert
1995; Thoma 2000:473 f. Abb. 2). Insgesamt ist hier
eine Ähnlichkeit mit den keltischen Grabgärten nicht
zu übersehen. Im Prinzip wurde ein numinoser Ort
(fanum) von seiner Umgebung (profanum) abgegrenzt
(Buchsenschutz 2000:7–11, fig. 9.1). Grundsätzlich
ist bei der Interpretation dieser Befunde allerdings
Zurückhaltung geboten, sofern nicht eindeutig
interpretierbare Funde vorhanden sind.
127
Sievers: Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen
3. Offene lineare Strukturen. Hierunter sind Plätze zu
verstehen, die durchaus nach außen hin begrenzt sein
konnten. Wir kennen sie u.a. von Manching (Sievers 1991),
vom Martberg (Thoma 2000), Bibracte (Gruel 1998:31),
Variscourt / Condé-sur-Suippe (Fichtl 2000:76–78) (Abb.
9.4) sowie von Acy-Romance (Lambot u. Méniel 2000:
20–29). Sie konnten als Marktplatz bzw. für politisch
oder religiös motivierte Versammlungen, etwa öffentliche
Wahlen, genutzt werden. In jedem Fall setzen sie die
Anwesenheit vieler Menschen voraus. Insofern dienten
auch sie der Kommunikation.
4. Befestigungen. Hierzu zählen die Stadtmauern mit
ihren Toren, aber auch Verteidigungslinien innerhalb der
Siedlung. Ihre öffentliche, eine Einheit umschließende und
zugleich trennende Funktion ist evident.
Lineare Elemente in den Oppida besaßen demnach
privaten, öffentlichen oder religiösen Charakter; sie dienten
der Abgrenzung oder der Kommunikation und regelten
so auf jeden Fall das Zusammenleben einer größeren
Menschenmenge. Ausgehend von Beobachtungen am
ursprünglich unbefestigten Manching (Sievers 1999) und
an Acy-Romance (Lambot u. Méniel 2000) ist festzustellen,
dass sämtliche bislang aufgeführten linearen Elemente auch
aus offenen Siedlungen bekannt sind. Dies bedeutet, dass
die Stadtmauer mit ihren Toren die einzige lineare Struktur
darstellt, die ausschließlich für das Oppidum typisch ist.
Die Monumentalität der spätkeltischen Stadttore, die alle
älteren Konstruktionen in den Schatten stellt, ist in direkter
Abhängigkeit vom gewaltigen Ausmaß der spätkeltischen
Befestigungen zu sehen, die durch Türme verstärkt worden
sein konnten. In diesem Sinne gehören auch die mächtigen
Zangentore und deren oft mehrfach gesichertes Vorfeld zu
Enclosing the Past
Abbildung 9.2. Manching. Von einer porticus umgebenes Gehöft der Südumgehung (nach Fichtl 2000:84).
den linearen Umfassungsstrukturen. Der Raum vor dem Tor
konnte durch Pfosten, Pfeiler oder Annäherungshindernisse
untergliedert sein, wie dies etwa für Manching belegt ist
(Abb. 9.5) (van Endert 1987:3–33, Beilage 14). Wenngleich
die Tore als wichtigste Zeugnisse keltischer Architektur auch
als Prestige-Symbole gelten können, stellten sie dennoch
die neuralgischen Punkte des Verteidigungssystems dar
und erforderten einen besonders wirkungsvollen Schutz
einschließlich unheilabwehrender Maßnahmen.
Manching sind Opferschächte und an Pfählen oder dem Tor
befestigte menschliche Schädel belegt (van Endert 1987,
28–31). Das Passieren der durchgehend bewachten Tore
unterlag mit Sicherheit einem strikten Reglement.
Unbeantwortet muss die Frage bleiben, ob die
Bewohner des Oppidums über spezielle Rechte verfügt
haben und in welchem Verhältnis diese zum keltischen
Gefolgschaftswesen gestanden hätten, wobei nicht klar ist,
ob die Angaben Caesars für Gallien hierzu überhaupt für
den gesamten keltischen Raum zu verallgemeinern sind.
Innerhalb der Stadtmauer wurden manchmal weitere
Verteidigungs- oder Grenzlinien angelegt. 4–5 m breite
und 2m tiefe Gräben im Oppidum von Manching sind
wohl nicht als übliche Begrenzungen von Privatbesitz
aufzufassen2. Aber die Situation des im Donautal gelegenen
Oppidums von Manching, das nur über einen einzigen
Mauerring verfügte, sollte nicht verallgemeinert werden.
Auf dem Titelberg trennte ein vergleichbarer Graben ein
Heiligtum ab (Metzler u.a. 2000:431–436). Viele der auf
Höhenrücken oder Plateaus errichteten Oppida besaßen ein
gestaffeltes Verteidigungssystem. Einige Mauern bestanden
gleichzeitig, andere folgten aufeinander (Drda 1994, Fig. 3)
oder wurden speziell zum Schutz von Quellen angelegt, z.
In B. am Dünsberg (Reh 2001).
Was aber geschah mit den ursprünglichen Verteidigungs-
linien, nachdem neue errichtet worden sind? Wurden die
Mauern eingeebnet, die Gräben aufgefüllt oder versah
man die zur Trennlinie gewordenen Mauern mit neuen
Durchgängen? Wurden Oppida immer nur erweitert oder hat
man hier und da auch versucht, den zu verteidigenden Raum
zu verkleinern? Es ist nicht einfach, diese Fragen in Kürze
zu beantworten. Wirft man einen Blick auf Befestigungen
Griechenlands oder auf früheisenzeitliche Anlagen wie die
Heuneburg, so ist festzustellen, dass normalerweise zuerst
nur die Akropolis massiv befestigt war. Die Unterstadt mit
ihren Handwerkervierteln folgte, wenn überhaupt, erst später
(Reim 2001/02). In Zeiten der Bedrohung wurde manchmal
2
z.B. der große Ost-West-Graben in Manching-Altenfeld: Sievers 1998:
Beilage 6 Schnitte 1402–1407.
128

Abbildung 9.3. Manching. Dreiphasiger Tempel aus Schnitt 20, jeweils von einem Grabengeviert umschlossen (nach
Gerdsen 1982:561, Abb.9).
eine innere Mauer zum Schutz des Siedlungszentrums
errichtet. In solchen Fällen bot dann der äußere Mauerring
eine zusätzliche Verstärkung.
Die Ergebnisse detaillierter Untersuchungen liegen in
Mitteleuropa von Závist (Drda u. Rybová 1997:74, Abb.
7; 115), Kelheim (Leicht 2000:109–128) und Stradonice
(Rybová u. Drda 1994:132, Fig. 5) sowie Bibracte (Gruel
u. Vitali 1998:18–22) vor. Nicht jedes Oppidum wurde
sukzessive vergrößert wie Závist (Abb. 9.6). Als weitere
Beispiele sind das Heidetränk-Oppidum (Maier 1985, Abb.
27) und der Donnersberg (Bernhard 2001) (Abb. 9.7) zu
nennen, dessen befestigtes Siedlungsgebiet z. B. reduziert
wurde, was auch für Bibracte zutrifft. Gewöhnlich hat
man bei einer Erweiterung des Terrains alte Mauer- oder
Wallteile im Inneren einer Siedlung nicht entfernt, sondern
zur Binnengliederung genutzt. Diese Unterteilung konnte
sozialer, ritueller oder funktionaler Natur sein. In jedem
Fall erfüllte sie einen bestimmten Zweck.
Die gezielte Gliederung der Siedlung wirft die Frage
129
Sievers: Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen
nach einem Zentrum auf. So fällt es auf, dass mehrfach
der am höchsten gelegene Teil einer Siedlung von dem
tiefer gelegenen separiert wurde (Abb. 9.8). Plätze,
Heiligtümer oder andere öffentliche Gebäude, manchmal in
Kombination miteinander, wurden in den meisten Fällen an
einem zentralen oder hervorgehobenen Ort errichtet, z. B.
an der Kreuzung zweier Hauptstraßen3. Diese Beobachtung
trifft nicht nur auf die Oppida zu. Man kann dies auch als
Zeichen einer gezielten Stadtplanung deuten, wie sie sich in
Manching an der Umleitung zweier Bachläufe, die man in
das Befestigungssystem mit einbezogen hat, äußert (Peters
u. Sievers 2001).
Ausgehend vom Oppidum von Manching, das sich aus einer
offenen Siedlung entwickelt hat, erhebt sich die generelle
Frage nach den Prinzipien der keltischen Siedlungsgründung.
Nehmen wir etruskische Riten als Muster (Kolb 1984:150–
3
Erhöht gelegenes „Zentrum“: Gesichert für Závist, Martberg, Titelberg,
Bibracte; vermutet für Kelheim, Staré Hradisko, Heidetränk-Oppidum.
„Zentrum“ an Wegekreuzung: Manching, Villeneuve-St-Germain.
Enclosing the Past

Abbildung 9.4. Plätze und Straßen des Oppidums Variscourt/Condé-sur-Suippe (nach Fichtl 2000:77 oben).

Abbildung 9.5. Manching. Das Osttor in seiner zweiten Bauphase mit Annäherungshindernis (nach Fichtl 2000:57
rechts).

130

Abbildung 9.6. Die Befestigungslinien des Oppidums auf dem Závist; a) während LT C2; b) während LT D2 (nach Drda
1994:142).
153), wäre die Festlegung eines Zentrums zu erwarten
(mundus) und die Einfriedung der Siedlungseinheit. Dies
könnte auf eine mehr symbolische Art durch Pflügen
geschehen sein oder durch die Anlage eines Zaunes oder
Grabens. Auch die Errichtung der Stadtmauern und Tore
folgten heiligen Vorschriften. Es gibt keine schriftlichen
Nachrichten bzw. präzise Beschreibungen vergleichbaren
keltischen Brauchtums4; immerhin hielten sich zahlreiche
Kelten aber lange Zeit im Mittelmeerraum auf, wo derartiges
Geschehen üblich war. Auch wäre es verwunderlich, wenn
solches Brauchtum ausschließlich auf den mediterranen
Raum beschränkt gewesen wäre. So wird das unter einer der
beiden Fahrbahnen des Osttores gefundene Kinderskelett
als Bauopfer gedeutet. Offensichtlich waren menschliche
Schädel im Vorraum des Tores an einem Pfahl befestigt
(Hahn 1987:111–114). Ein weiteres Beispiel aus Manching
ist hier anzufügen. Im Südteil des Oppidums wird der Wall
auf seiner Innenseite in etwas unregelmäßigem Abstand
von einem annähernd parallel verlaufenen Grabensystem
begleitet (v. Schnurbein u. Sievers 2000:310 f. Abb. 2). Es
ist nicht auszuschließen, dass einige dieser Gräben älter
sind als die Stadtmauer und dass die sog. offene Siedlung
in Wirklichkeit schon frühzeitig nach außen hin abgegrenzt
war. Der Zwischenraum zwischen Grabensystem und
Wall erscheint weitgehend unbebaut. Folgen wir antiken
Traditionen, dann könnte man diesen Zwischenraum als
pomerium bezeichnen, das als eine Art magische Grenze
gedient hat. Der runde Umriss des Oppidums von Manching
schließlich kann ebenso als kosmisches Symbol verstanden
worden sein wie seine beiden Rundtempel, von denen einer
– der älteste – durch seine zentrale Lage auffällt (Parker
Pearson 1999).
Die Befestigungen der Oppida unterscheiden sich vor
allem durch ihre komplexe Bauweise von umwehrten
Gehöften und den sog. Viereckschanzen. Aus Frankreich
kennen wir auf der anderen Seite mindestens zwei Beispiele
(Meunet-Planches und Luant [Buchsenschutz 2002:267–
269), bei denen sehr kleine Einheiten von nur 1 oder 2
ha Grundfläche von einer massiven Stadtmauer nach dem
Baumuster des murus Gallicus inklusive der typischen Nägel
umgeben wurden. Diese Beispiele verweisen auf eine der
4
Tarpin 2000:29. Hier ist von einer mythischen Siedlungsgründung der
Kelten in der Gallia cisalpina die Rede, auf die sich Titus Livius 39, 22
und 45 bezieht.
131
Sievers: Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen
Hauptfunktionen spätkeltischer Befestigungen: Sie besitzen
Prestige-Charakter und demonstrieren Macht gegenüber
jedermann, der sich diesen Bauwerken von außen nähert.
Dies ist natürlich nicht neu. Die Lehmziegelmauer der
Heuneburg mit ihren Türmen (Gersbach 1995) erfüllte diesen
Zweck ebenso wie bronzezeitliche oder frühlatènezeitliche
Befestigungen.
Und dennoch gibt es einen wichtigen Unterschied. Der
zum Bau und zur Verteidigung einer mehrere Kilometer
langen Stadtmauer, die eine Fläche von bis zu 1000 ha
umschließen konnte, notwendige Aufwand an Menschen,
Zeit und Material setzte eine hohe Bevölkerungsdichte im
Umfeld der Siedlung voraus, eine starke Gemeinschaft und
eine strikte Planung. In diesem Sinne sind die Oppida und ihre
Vorläufer die ersten urbanen Siedlungen in der europäischen
Geschichte, bezieht man sich auf eine Definition des
Stadtbegriffs von F. Kolb, der als Voraussetzung u.a. eine
Bevölkerungszahl von mehreren tausend Einwohnern nennt
und den Grenzwert bei 1000 setzt (Kolb 1984:15).
Die Verwendung des häufig benutzten Begriffs „Zentralort“
fordert dazu auf, nach dem zugehörigen Territorium zu
fragen (Christaller 1933; Denecke 1973; Grant 1986).
Aus dem Bedarf an Getreide, Holz, Eisen und Steinen in
Kombination mit der Lage der jeweiligen Rohstoffquellen
und den topographischen Gegebenheiten kann theoretisch
der Radius des von einem Oppidum beherrschten Gebietes
erschlossen werden. Einfache Bauernhöfe könnten Viereck-
schanzen oder offenen Siedlungen zugeordnet gewesen
sein oder Industriesiedlungen wie Bad Nauheim mit seinen
Salzquellen beliefert haben5. Hier wird besonders deutlich,
dass wir von einer Arbeitsteilung auszugehen haben. All
diese Plätze waren wiederum mit einem Oppidum verbunden.
Das Oppidum war der geeignete Ort, um die Vorräte der
Gemeinschaft zu sichern, wofür zahlreiche Speicherbauten,
auch größerer Dimension, ein Beleg sind. Innerhalb der
Stadtmauern der großflächigen Oppida Süddeutschlands
sind zudem Felder für eine Grundversorgung und
unbewirtschaftete Flächen zu beobachten, die als eine
Art Refugium genutzt werden konnten. Es gibt daneben
Hinweise auf den Abbau diverser Metalle etwa in Bibracte,
Kelheim und Manching (Knopf, Leicht u. Sievers 2000)6.
Dies bedeutet, dass die Stadtmauer nicht ausschließlich als
5
Zuletzt im Überblick: Saile 2000:169 f.
Enclosing the Past
Abbildung 9.7. Das Oppidum auf dem Donnersberg und seine Befestigungslinien (nach Fichtl 2000:127).
Prestige-Objekt gedacht war, sondern auch als Symbol für
Sicherheit, militärische Macht und den Schutz der gesamten
politischen, ökonomischen und religiösen Einheit aufgefasst
werden kann. Insofern ist das Oppidum ein Spiegel des
Territoriums, das es beherrscht. Dies bedeutet auf der
anderen Seite, dass wir mit regionalen Besonderheiten
rechnen müssen7.
Was war der Anlass für das Befestigen eines bereits
existierenden Zentralortes bzw. für die Gründung eines
Oppidums? Es ist wohl kaum ein Zufall, dass Zentralorte
urbanen Charakters erst seit dem Ende der keltischen
Expansion entstanden sind. Mit Sicherheit kannten
die Kelten, die als Söldner weithin gefragt waren, die
Verteidigungssysteme mediterraner Städte. Nach Mittel-
europa zurückgekehrt, verarbeiteten sie manche Anregung,
ohne jedoch ins bloße Kopieren zu verfallen. Das geläufigste
Beispiel hierfür ist die Münzprägung. Warum sollte nicht
auch die Idee der Stadt als Konzentration von Menschen
und Möglichkeiten dazu gezählt werden, allerdings unter
der Wahrung traditioneller Elemente. Dass die Kelten
Erfahrungen aus ihrer Söldnerzeit umsetzten, belegen
z.B. die massiven Erdhinterschüttungen der Steinmauern,
die deren Einreißen oder das Schlagen einer Bresche fast
unmöglich machten. Gegenüber den ältereisenzeitlichen
Mauern ist dies eine Neuerung, die auf ein Mitwirkung
keltischer Söldner an zahlreichen Belagerungen von reinen
Steinmauern zurückgehen könnte. Dass die riesigen
keltischen Oppida nur unter größtem Aufwand und Einsatz
6
Forschungen J.-P. Guillaumets am Mont Beuvray ergaben erste
Hinweise auf den Abbau von Gold innerhalb des Oppidums (interne
Berichterstattung).
7
Hierzu aus dem Blickwinkel der Britischen Inseln: Collis 1993:231–237.
132
von Menschen zu belagern waren, zeigt die Kriegsführung
Caesars in Gallien. Der Bedarf nach einem einheimischen
oder fremden Verteidigungssystem aus rein symbolischen
oder Prestigegründen stand dabei offensichtlich nicht an
erster Stelle. Man begann mit der Errichtung von Oppida
und der Befestigung von Siedlungen erst während einer
über Schriftquellen belegten Krisenzeit im 2. Jahrhundert
v. Chr. (Kimbern und Teutonen, später Germanen unter
Ariovost). Insofern ist der Bau einer Stadtmauer nicht
zwingend mit dem Entstehen einer stärkeren Zentralisierung
gleichzusetzen. Aber die Stadtmauern schützten das neue
System in einer sehr effektiven und demonstrativen Art und
Weise.
Einen gewaltigen Einschnitt in die bestehende Ordnung
muss es bedeutet haben, wenn eine derart massive
Umfriedung, wie sie die Stadtmauer eines Oppidums
darstellt, freiwillig oder unfreiwillig aufgelassen wurde.
Immerhin zeigen einige der gegrabenen Tore Spuren von
Feuer. Bedeutete dies das Ende der politischen, religiösen
und wirtschaftlichen Einheit? Oder ist dies lediglich als Krise
zu verstehen? Diesen Eindruck erwecken einige Beispiele
in Gallien, wo man befestigte Orte nach kurzer Zeit wieder
verließ und eine neue Siedlung errichtete9. Auch hier
müssen wir mit ganz unterschiedlichen Reaktionen auf z.
T. politische Ereignisse und wirtschaftliche Gegebenheiten
rechnen. Offensichtlich war die keltische Mobilität nicht
nur auf die Zeit der großen „Wanderungen“ beschränkt. Die
das Oppidum charakterisierenden großen geschlossenen
(linearen) Einheiten, die wir gewöhnlich als Gehöfte
9
Levroux: Ortswechsel nicht als Krise im negativen Sinn, sondern als
wirtschaftlich-politische Notwendigkeit gedeutet durch Buchsenschutz u.
Krausz 2001:292–298. – Aisnetal: Brun, Chartier u. Pion 2000:85–88.

Abbildung 9.8. Das Oppidum Stradonice und seine Befestigungslinien (nach Fichtl 2000:100 unten).
ansprechen, waren im Grunde leicht aufzulösen und
außerhalb der befestigten Siedlung wieder zu errichten, wo
sie für uns allerdings nicht ohne weiteres fassbar sind.
Die Zeit der Oppida markiert das Ende einer komplexen
Entwicklung, die alle möglichen Siedlungsmuster in sich
vereinigte und miteinander kombinierte. Im Mittelmeer-
Raum folgten entweder zentralistische oder demokratische
Strukturen auf die Stadtstaaten. Der unter politischen
und ökonomischen Druck (Römer, Germanen) geratenen
keltischen Führungsriege war es offensichtlich nicht
möglich, einen dieser Wege zu gehen. Das Ende der Oppida
könnte genau diesen Umstand reflektieren. Insofern geben
uns die Oppida mit ihrer Vielfalt linearer Strukturen eine
Vorstellung von der Entwicklung, den Eigenheiten und
dem Verfall der spätkeltischen Gesellschaft. Sie spiegeln
den gesamten Kosmos und das komplexe Netzwerk
keltischen Lebens; ihre Befestigungen, die die Siedlungen
als geschlossene Einheiten definieren, symbolisieren die
Stärke, aber auch die Gefährdung dieses Systems.
Bibliographie
Bernhard, H. 2001. Dannenfels, KIB (RP). In J. Biel u. S.
Rieckhoff (Hrsg.) Die Kelten in Deutschland, S. 320–323.
Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
Braemer, F., Cleuziou, S. u. Coudart, A. 1999. Habitat et société.
Actes des rencontres 22–23–24 octobre 1998. Antibes.
Brun, P., Chartier, M. u. Pion, P. 2000. Le processus d’urbanisation
dans la vallée de l’Aisne. In Guichard, Sievers u. Urban 2000:
85–88.
Brunaux, J.-L. (Hrsg.) 1991. Les sanctuaires celtiques et le monde
méditerranéen. Actes de colloque de St-Riquier 8 au 11
novembre 1990. Dossiers de Protohistoire 3. Paris: Errance.
Buchsenschutz, O. u. Krausz, S. 2001. Levroux et le modèle de la
genèse des oppida. In Collis 2001:292–298.
Buchsenschutz, O. 2000. Traces, typologie et interprétation des
enclos de l’âge du Fer. Revue Archéologique de Picardie
2000,1/2: 7–11.
Buchsenschutz, O. 2002. Vers une analyse spatiale de la cité des
133
Sievers: Oppida und ihre linearen Strukturen
Bituriges. In Garcia u. Verdin 2002:261–270.
Christaller, W. 1933. Die zentralen Orte in Süddeutschland.
Eine ökonomisch-geographische Untersuchung über die
Gesetzmäßigkeit der Verbreitung und Entwicklung der
Siedlungen mit städtischen Funktionen. Jena.
Collis, J. 1984. Oppida. Earliest Towns North of the Alps.
Sheffield.
Collis, J. 1993. Structures d’habitat et enceintes de l’âge du Fer.
In: A. Daubigny (Hrsg.), Fonctionnement social de l’âge du
Fer opérateurs et hypothèses pour la France. Table ronde
internationale de Lons-le-Saunier (Jura) 24–26 octobre 1990,
S. 231–237. Lons-le-Saunier.
Collis, J. (Hrsg.) 2001. Society and settlement in Iron Age Europe.
L’Habitat et l’Occupation du Sol en Europe. Actes du XVIIIe
Colloque de l’A.F.E.A.F. Winchester – April 1994. Sheffield :
J.R. Collis publications.
Debord, J., Lambot, B. u. Buchsenschutz, O. 1988. Les fossés
couverts du site gaulois tardif de Villeneuve-St-Germain
(Aisne). Architectures des Âges des metaux : fouilles recentes.
Paris.
Denecke, D. 1973. Der geographische Stadtbegriff und die
räumlich-funktionale Betrachtungsweise bei Siedlungstypen
mit zentraler Bedeutung in Anwendung auf historische
Siedlungsepochen. In Jankuhn, Schlesinger u. Steuer 1973:
33–55.
Drda, P. u. Rybová, A. 1997. Die keltischen oppida im Zentrum
Boiohaemums. Památky archaeologické 88: 74–115.
Drda, P. 1994. Le site de Závist et le développement du réseau des
oppida en Bohême. Etudes Celtiques 30:137–147.
Fichtl, St. 2000. La ville celtique. Les oppida de 150 av. J.-C. à 15
ap. J.-C. Paris: Errance.
Garcia, D. u. Verdin, F. 2002. Territoires celtiques. Espaces
ethniques et territoires des agglomérations protohistoriques
d’Europe occidentale. Actes du XXIVe colloque international
de l’A.F.E.A.F. Martigues,1–4 juin 2000. Paris.
Gerdsen, H. 1982. Das Fragment eines eisernen Hallstattschwertes
aus dem Oppidum von Manching. Germania 60:560–564.
Gersbach, E. 1995. Baubefunde der Perioden IVc–IVa der
Heuneburg. Heuneburgstudien IX = Römisch-Germanische
Forschungen 53. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.
Gersbach, E. 1996. Baubefunde der Perioden IIIb–Ia der
Heuneburg. Heuneburgstudien X = Römisch-Germanische
Enclosing the Past
Forschungen 56. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.
Grant, E. (Hrsg.) 1986. Central Places, Archaeology and History.
Sheffield.
Gruel, K. u. Vitali, D. 1998. L’oppidum de Bibracte. Un bilan de
onze années de recherches (1984–1995). Gallia 55:1–140.
Gruel, K. 1998. Lieux publics, lieux cultuels. In Gruel u. Vitali
1998:31–34.
Guichard, V., Sievers, S. u. Urban, O. (Hrsg.) 2000. Eisenzeitliche
Urbanisationsprozesse. Colloque des 8–11 juin 1998 Glux-
en-Glenne. Collection Bibracte 4. Glux-en-Glenne : Centre
Archéologique du Mont Beuvray.
Haffner, A. u. v. Schnurbein, S. (Hrsg.) 2000. Kelten, Germanen,
Römer im Mittelgebirgsraum zwischen Luxemburg und
Thüringen. Kolloquien zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 5. Bonn:
R. Habelt.
Hahn, E. 1987. Anthropologische Untersuchung des Kinderskeletts.
In van Endert 1987:111–114.
Haselgrove, C. 2001. Iron Age Britain and its European setting. In
Collis 2001:37–72 .
Jankuhn, H., Schlesinger, W. u. Steuer, H. (Hrsg.) 1973. Vor-
und Frühformen der europäischen Stadt im Mittelalter.
Abhandlungen der Akadademie der Wissenschaften Göttingen
philosophisch-historische Klasse 83. Göttingen.
Jansová, L. 1965. Hrazany, keltské oppidum na Sedlčansku –
Hrazany, ein keltisches Oppidum an der Moldau nördlich von
Sedlčany. Praha.
Knopf, Th., Leicht, M. u. Sievers, S. 2000. Die großen
süddeutschen Oppida Heidengraben, Manching und Kelheim.
In Guichard, Sievers u. Urban 2000:141–147.
Köhler, H.-J. 1992. Siedlungsbefunde und Bebauungsrekonstruk-
tion. In Maier u.a. 1992:5–64.
Kolb, F. 1984. Die Stadt im Altertum. München: C.H. Beck.
Küster, H. 1992. Vegetationsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen. In
Maier u.a. 1992:433–476.
Lambot, B. u. Méniel, P. Le village d’Acy-Romance dans son
contexte régional. In Verger 2000:7–139.
Leicht, M. 2000. Die Wallanlagen des Oppidums Alkimoennis/
Kelheim – Zur Baugeschichte und Typisierung spätkeltischer
Befestigungen. Archäologie am Main-Donau-Kanal 14.
Rahden/Westf.
Maier, F. 1985. Das Heidetränk-Oppidum. Führer zur hessischen
Vor- und Frühgeschichte 4. Stuttgart.
Maier, F. u.a. 1992. Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen 1984–1987
in Manching. Die Ausgrabungen in Manching 15. Stuttgart:
Steiner.
Meduna, J. 1970. Das keltische Oppidum Staré Hradisko in
Mähren. Germania 48:34–59.
Metzler, J. u.a. 2000. Vorbericht zu den Ausgrabungen im keltisch-
römischen Heiligtum auf dem Titelberg. In Haffner u. v.
Schnurbein 2000:431–436.
Parker Pearson, M. 1999. Cosmology and architecture in Iron Age
Britain. In Braemer, Cleuziou u. Coudart 1999:53–66.
Peters, M. u. Sievers, S. 2001. Neue Befunde zur Entwicklung
der Kulturlandschaft im Raum Ingolstadt-Manching während
der Bronze- und Eisenzeit. Das Archäologische Jahr in Bayern
2001:68–71.
Peyre, Ch. 2000. Documents sur l’organisation publique de l’espace
dans la cité Gauloise. Villeneuve-St-Germain et la bilingue de
134
Verceil. In Verger 2000:155–206.
Pion, P. u.a. 1997. L’oppidum de Condé-sur-Suippe / Variscourt
(Aisne) (fin IIe-début Ier s. av. J.-C.): approche préliminaire de
l’organisation fonctionelle d’un quartier artisanal. In Espaces
physiques, espaces sociaux dans l’analyse interne des sites du
Neolithique à l’Âge du Fer. Colloque du CTHS d’Amiens, oct.
1994:275–309. Amiens.
Reh, K. 2001. Der Dünsberg und seine Umgebung. Eine
Bestandsaufnahme der Geländedenkmäler. Forsch. Dünsberg
1. Montagnac: éditions Monique Mergoil..
Reim, H. 2001/02. Siedlungsarchäologische Forschungen im
Umland der frühkeltischen Heuneburg bei Hundersingen,
Gemeinde Herbertingen, Kreis Sigmaringen. Jahrbuch des
Heimat- und Altertumsvereins Heidenheim a. d. Brenz S.
12–33.
Rieder, K. H. u. Tillmann, A. 1995. Archäologie um Ingolstadt.
Kipfenberg.
Rybová, A. u. Drda, P. 1994. Hradište by Stradonice. Rebirth of a
celtic oppidum. Praha: Institute of Archaeology.
Saile, Th. 2000. Salz im ur- und frühgeschichtlichen Mitteleuropa
– Eine Bestandsaufnahme. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen
Kommission 81:129–234.
Schubert, F. 1994. Maß- und Entwurfslehre keltischer Holzbauten
im Oppidum von Manching. Germania 72:133–192.
Schubert, F. 1995. Keltische Umgangstempel von Ingolstadt-
Zuchering. In Rieder u. Tillmann 1995:127–185.
Sievers, S. 1991. Armes et sanctuaires à Manching. In Brunaux
1991:146–155.
Sievers, S. 1992. Die Siedlungsstruktur unter chronologischen und
funktionalen Aspekten. In Maier u.a. 1992:326–335.
Sievers, S. 1998. Vorbericht über die Ausgrabungen 1996–1997 im
Oppidum von Manching. Germania 76:619–672.
Sievers, S. 1999. Manching – Aufstieg und Niedergang einer
Keltenstadt. Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission
80:5–24.
Sievers, S. 2000. Vorbericht über die Ausgrabungen 1998–1999 im
Oppidum von Manching. Germania 87:355–394.
Tarpin, M. 2000. Urbs et oppidum: Le concept urbain dans
l’antiquité romaine. In Guichard, Sievers u. Urban 2000:27–
30.
Thoma, M. 2000. Der gallo-römische Kultbezirk auf dem Martberg
bei Pommern an der Mosel, Kr. Cochem-Zell. In Haffner u. v.
Schnurbein 2000:447–477.
van Endert, D. 1987. Das Osttor von Manching. Die Ausgrabungen
in Manching 10. Stuttgart; Steiner.
Verger, St. (Hrsg.) 2000. Rites et espaces en pays celte et
méditerranéen. Étude comparée à partir du sanctuaire d’Acy-
Romance (Ardennes, France). Collect. École Française de
Rome 276. Rome.
von Schnurbein, S. u. Sievers, S. 2000. Bericht über die Tätigkeit
der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission in der Zeit vom
1. Januar bis 31. Dezember 2000. Bericht der Römisch-
Germanischen Kommission 81:303–332.
Werner, J. 1939. Die Bedeutung des Städtewesens für die
Kulturentwicklung des frühen Keltentums. Die Welt als
Geschichte 5:380–390.
Wieland, G. (Hrsg.) 1999. Keltische Viereckschanzen. Stuttgart:
Konrad Theiss.
Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland:
Umfriedung–Abgrenzung–Umwehrung
Günther Wieland
Abstract: During the last fifteen years, the discussion
about the function of Late La Tène Viereckschanzen in
Southern Germany (Baden-Württemberg, Bavaria) and
Bohemia has been revived. Since the excavations of Klaus
Schwarz in Holzhausen (1957–62) the most common
opinion about these enclosures was the interpretation as
sanctuaries. Excavations in recent years especially in the
interior show us many different functional aspects - sacred
and profane. Therefore the most appropriate definition of
the Viereckschanzen is as a kind of multifunctional rural
settlement. It is explicitly a phenomenon of rural settlement;
there are no exact equivalents in the proto-urban settlements,
the oppida.
The function of the Viereckschanzen is only one of the
aspects to be considered. There are examples which show a
development from wooden enclosures (fences) to ramparts
and ditches, sometimes with traces of palisades. There are
also examples of gateways which show traces of unusually
solid, tower-like buildings, which could be considered as a
kind of fortification. Probably one of the functional aspects
of the Viereckschanzen was the fortification of enclosed
settlement – a reaction to the unsafe times at the end of the
2nd century BC.
Keywords: Viereckschanzen, La Tène, rural settlement,
enclosures, fortification, multifunctional
Die Erforschung der spätkeltischen Viereckschanzen
des 2. und 1. Jhs. v.Chr. hat in den letzten 15 Jahren einen
vehementen Aufschwung genommen (Krause u. Wieland
1993:59 ff.; Venclová et al. 1998:211 ff.; Wieland 1999b:11
ff.). Nachdem die kultische Deutung als Heiligtümer der
Spätlatènezeit seit den Grabungen von Klaus Schwarz in
der Viereckschanze von Holzhausen Anfang der 1960er
Jahre pauschal auf alle Viereckschanzen übertragen wurde
(Drexel 1931; Schwarz 1975; Bittel 1978; Reichenberger
1995:353ff.), störte 20 Jahre später der Befund von
Fellbach-Schmiden dieses einheitlich scheinende Bild: Der
Nachweis, dass der vermeintliche Opferschacht in Wahrheit
ein Brunnen ist, war zwar noch kein offener Widerspruch
gegen die Deutung der Viereckschanzen als Heiligtümer,
gab aber doch zu denken, was die pauschale Ansprache
der Schächte als Opferschächte für chthonische Gottheiten
angeht.
Gleichzeitig mahnt der Fund der mittlerweile berühmten
hölzernen Figuren in diesem Brunnen vor einer allzu
einseitigen funktionalen Deutung – man wird sie in einen wie
auch immer gearteten kultischen Kontext stellen müssen, ein
solcher hat also irgendwie zu dieser Viereckschanze gehört.
Mit diesem Befund von Fellbach-Schmiden war ein erneuter
Anstoß gegeben, die Frage nach der Funktion (oder besser:
dem Funktionsspektrum) dieser Schanzen neu aufzurollen
(Wieland 1995:85ff.; Wieland 1996:46ff.; Wieland 1999a).
Seit dem Ende der 1980er Jahre und in den 1990er Jahren
wurden dann in Baden-Württemberg und Bayern eine
135
ganze Reihe von Viereckschanzen neu untersucht – und vor
allem: großflächig untersucht. Ich nenne hier exemplarisch
die Untersuchungen in Riedlingen, Bopfingen, Nordheim,
Mengen-Ennetach, Blaufelden, Plattling-Pankofen und
Passau-Hartkirchen (Wieland 1999b:122ff.: Katalogteil Nr.
7, 10, 11, 12, 15, 18, 19).
Als Ergebnis dieser Untersuchungen hat sich unsere
Vorstellung von den spätkeltischen Viereckschanzen
erheblich gewandelt: von der gängigen Vorstellung der
1970er und 1980er Jahre, basierend auf den Grabungen von
K. Schwarz in Holzhausen und H. Zürn in Tomerdingen
(Schwarz 1975; Zürn u. Fischer 1991), welche die Viereck-
schanze als Kultanlage mit weitgehend unbebautem
Innenraum sahen (Abb. 10.1), sind wir völlig abgekommen.
Die Baulichkeiten der Anlagen, ihre Grundkonzeption
und auch das Fundspektrum der Viereckschanzen zeigen
deutliche Unterschiede zu Rechteckheiligtümern im
gallischen Bereich (Brunaux 1996), mit denen man die
Viereckschanzen nicht gleichsetzen darf.
Stattdessen können wir heute die Viereckschanzen in
einen lockeren ländlichen Siedelverband integriert sehen -
und zwar als zentrales und beherrschendes Element (Colour
plate 7).
Beim derzeitigen Kenntnisstand scheint es mir am
wahrscheinlichsten, dass wir in diesen Anlagen tatsächlich
die Zentralbaulichkeiten ländlicher Siedelgemeinschaften
vor uns haben, in denen verschiedene Funktionen vereint
waren: Sie können als Kult- und Versammlungsplatz
sowie als Speicher- oder Stapelplatz für wichtige Güter
(z.B. Saatgetreide) gedient haben, in ihnen lag der Brunnen
für die Wasserversorgung und möglicherweise auch der
Wohnplatz des „Dorfherren“. Mit dieser Definition sind
wir sehr nahe an dem, was man als Herrenhof oder Gutshof
ansprechen kann, wobei sicherlich noch ein Umland mit
weiteren Kleinsiedeleinheiten dazugehört hat (Krause u.
Wieland 1993:59ff.; Irlinger 1994:285ff.).
Ein Charakteristikum der Viereckschanzen möchte ich
an dieser Stelle etwas näher diskutieren – ganz im Sinne
des Themas „inside and outside in prehistory“ – nämlich
die Frage der Umfriedung, Abgrenzung – oder sogar
Umwehrung dieser Anlagen – auch hier gibt es durchaus
verschiedene Aspekte die man kontrovers diskutieren kann.
Als charakteristische Form der Umfassung gilt bei
den Viereckschanzen der aufgeschüttete Erdwall mit
vorgelagertem Graben. Die Gräben sind in der Regel als
Spitzgräben angelegt, d.h. im Profil V-förmig eingetieft
(Bittel, Schiek u. Müller 1990:32ff.).
Gelegentlich scheint es jetzt doch Abweichungen von
diesem Prinzip zu geben, so war etwa der Graben der
Viereckschanze von Mengen-Ennetach als flacher, breiter
Sohlgraben angelegt – wohl einfach deswegen, weil man beim
Abtiefen in 1,5 m Tiefe auf den hohen Grundwasserspiegel
des Donautals stieß und die angestrebte Spitzgrabenform
nicht weiter verwirklichen konnte (Wieland 1999b:174ff .).
Die Tiefe der Gräben dürfte bei etwa 4–6 m oberer Breite
Enclosing the Past
Abbildung 10.1. Rekonstruktion einer Viereckschanze als Kultanlage mit weitgehend unbebautem Innenraum. Sie basiert
auf dem Forschungsstand der 1960er Jahre, als noch keine dieser Schanzen vollständig archäologisch untersucht war.
ursprünglich um die 2–3m betragen haben, wobei selten
auch größere Dimensionen erreicht werden. Rechnet man
mit einer ursprünglichen Wallhöhe von 2–3m bei etwa
6–7m Wallbreite (am Fuß), ergeben sich sehr respektable
Ausmaße. Eine oft deutlich erkennbare Überhöhung der
Wallecken war wohl nicht beabsichtigt, sondern hat sich
zwangsläufig ergeben, weil hier der Aushub von zwei
Grabenzügen zusammenkam.
Die überwiegende Meinung geht dahin, dass diese Wälle
reine Erdaufschüttungen ohne irgendwelche Einbauten
waren. Nicht sehr zahlreich, aber doch existent sind
Hinweise auf Palisaden oder Zäune auf der Wallkrone, etwa
aus Holzhausen oder Altheim-Heiligkreuztal (Paret u. Bersu
1922:64ff.; Wieland 1999b:125, 197f.). Jüngst wurden jetzt
in Nordheim die verbrannten Reste einer Palisade oder
Bretterwand nachgewiesen, die vom Wall in den Graben
gestürzt war (Neth 1999).
Natürlich muss hier die Einschränkung gelten, dass
Palisaden auf dem Wall auch aus nachkeltischer Zeit
stammen können und eine Sekundärnutzung anzeigen.
Vielleicht waren die Erdwälle auch mit Heckenbewuchs
oder ähnlichem gesichert, was einerseits das Überklettern
erschwert hätte und außerdem auch die Erosion der
Aufschüttung durch Witterungseinflüsse wesentlich
vermindert hätte.
Auch aus der Fundverteilung im Graben ergeben sich
Hinweise, dass der Wall irgendeinen Bewuchs getragen
haben könnte: auffällig sind nämlich mengenmäßige Fund-
konzentration im Bereich des Tores und an den Ecken, was
vielleicht darauf schließen läßt, dass an den Ecken Aufgänge
auf den Wall vorhanden waren und von dort Tierknochen,
Abfälle und Keramikscherben in den Graben geworfen
wurden (Wieland 1999a:256ff .). Sicher beantworten läßt sich einer frühlatènezeitlichen Gebäudegruppe mit runder
die Frage nach der genaueren Ausgestaltung der Umfassung
erst, wenn – so wie bislang eigentlich nur in Holzhausen
geschehen – mehrere gut erhaltene Viereckschanzenwälle
136
einmal archäologisch näher untersucht werden.
Wurden Wälle und Gräben der Viereckschanzen lange
als kultisch motivierte Umhegung gesehen, wofür man
auch Nachrichten aus der antiken Literatur heranzog (Pauli
1991:124 ff.), scheint die Frage doch berechtigt, ob nicht
vielleicht auch eine regelrechte Befestigung beabsichtigt war,
zumal bei den manchmal nachgewiesenen Vorgängeranlagen
als Umgrenzung anscheinend ein Holzzaun ausreichend
war. Ein Zaun hat neben so pragmatischen Funktionen
wie Ein- oder Aussperren von Tieren natürlich eine
rechtssymbolische Funktion, etwa im Sinne der Abgrenzung
von Eigentumsverhältnissen, ebenso ist die Einfriedung
und Abgrenzung von Heiligtümern vorauszusetzen, gerade
dies wurde bei den Viereckschanzen ja jahrzehntelang als
festgeschriebene Erklärung vorausgesetzt.
Solche Zaunumfriedungen als Vorgänger sind mehrfach
nachgewiesen, etwa in Holzhausen und Blaufelden (Schwarz
1975:324ff.).
Hinweise darauf liegen auch aus Pfaffenhofen-Beuren,
Riedlingen und Ehningen vor. In Bopfingen ging mit dem
Übergang von der Zaunumfriedung zur Wall–Graben–
Umwehrung auch eine Vergrößerung und eine räumliche
Verlagerung einher (Krause u. Wieland 1993:59ff.). Die
folgenden Fragen liegen in diesem Zusammenhang nahe:
1. gab es bereits Bezugspunkte bei der Anlage der ersten
Umfriedungen (Zäune), bzw. – was war erst da?
Die Umzäunung oder die Gebäude? Die randliche
Lage mancher Schächte und Gebäude könnte so
zu interpretieren sein, dass ein bereits bestehendes
Ensemble eingezäunt wurde.
Wir können z.B. in Bopfingen die kontinuierliche
Entwicklung einer ländlichen Siedeleinheit von
Palisadeneinfriedung über einen wohl mittellatènezeitlichen
Rechteckhof bis hin zu einer spätlatènezeitlichen
Viereckschanze verfolgen, dabei kam es zu geringfügigen

räumlichen Verlagerungen.
2. Die Anlage von Wall und Graben scheint bei vielen
Viereckschanzen eine Ausbaustufe darzustellen.
Meines Erachtens stehen hier zwei Motivationen im
Vordergrund: Die Repräsentation – mit Wall und
Graben sowie einem mächtigen Torbau ist eine solche
Anlage natürlich ungleich eindrucksvoller, als mit einem
Flechtwerkzaun.
Die Fortifikation - so gesehen wäre die Anlage von Wall
und Graben als Reaktion auf veränderte äußere Einflüsse zu
sehen, oder konkret: die Zeiten waren unsicherer geworden
und man hatte ein verstärktes Schutzbedürfnis. So äußert
sich ein an sich gut bekanntes Phänomen: Siedelformen
sind Anpassungsmuster des Menschen an seine Umgebung.
Überlegungen zum Arbeitsaufwand, den die Anlage einer
solchen Wall–Graben–Anlage bedeutet, müssen immer
weitgehend spekulativ bleiben, da wir zu viele Faktoren, die
hier eine Rolle spielen zu wenig oder überhaupt nicht kennen:
Arbeitsorganisation (z.B. Schichtarbeit), Verfügbarkeit und
Anzahl der beteiligten Personen, zeitliche Vorgaben, etc.
Aber auch die Faktoren, die wir kennen, können variieren,
etwa Bodenbeschaffenheit, Untergrund, Lage im Gelände,
etc. – man musste sich zwangsläufig auf diese von der Natur
vorgegebenen Dinge einstellen und somit kann für ähnlich
dimensionierte Anlagen durchaus ein unterschiedlicher
Arbeitsaufwand erforderlich gewesen sein.
Wesentlicher scheint mir aber Folgendes:
• dass zwar eine zentrale Organisation und Planung
erforderlich ist, sicherlich aber nicht der technische
Aufwand und die Arbeitsleistung, die man bei
Konstruktion und Ausführung eines murus gallicus
oder einer Pfostenschlitzmauer an einem Oppidum
voraussetzen muss.
• dass der Aufwand zwar relativ gering ist und meist
überschätzt wird, man sich aber doch fragen muss, ob
die begrenzten Wohnmöglichkeiten (wenig Gebäude!)
im Innenraum einer Viereckschanze ausreichten, um so
viele Menschen dauerhaft hier wohnen zu lassen.
Vielleicht dürfen wir doch annehmen, dass in der Schanze
bestenfalls der „Organisator“ gewohnt hat – wenn
überhaupt –, d.h. die Wall–Graben–Anlage wurde von einer
Bevölkerung errichtet, die normalerweise in der näheren
Umgebung der Schanze wohnte und sich nur in Zeiten
Abbildung 10.2. Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten.
137
Wieland: Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland
drohender Gefahr in die Umwallung flüchten konnte. Wir
kennen Vergleichbares ja zu Genüge aus dem Mittelalter.
Wenn ich von unruhigen Zeiten und drohender Gefahr
spreche, denkt man natürlich sofort an die historisch
überlieferten Ereignisse am Ende des 2 Jhs. v.Chr. – mit den
Zügen der Kimbern und Teutonen wird uns aber sicher nur
schlaglichtartig ein Fragment der Gesamtsituation historisch
erhellt – in der Tat würde der archäologische Befund gut dazu
passen. Der Gedanke ist nicht neu, er wurde zu Beginn des
20. Jhs. bereits mit eben diesem Hintergrund in Erwägung
gezogen (Bersu 1926; Wieland 1996:37ff.).
Noch weitgehend rätselhaft ist das Phänomen der
„Mehrfachschanzen“ bzw. der Schanzen mit Erweiterungen
und Anbauten in Form sogenannter Annexe (Wieland
1996:26 ff.). Verschiedene Grabungen haben Hinweise auf
eine zeitliche Abfolge der einzelnen Teile ergeben, d.h. die
Viereckschanzen wurden teilweise umgestaltet, verkleinert
oder vergrößert. Bei so großen Annexwerken wie in
Mengen-Ennetach, Königheim-Brehmen oder Deisenhofen
stellt sich die Frage, ob hier nicht angrenzende Siedelareale
nachträglich in die Umwallung einbezogen wurden, oder
ob sogar Wirtschaftsareale umwallt wurden (Viehweiden,
Ackerflächen, etc). Dort wo die Annexe teilweise untersucht
sind fällt auf, dass sie eine deutlich spärlichere Bebauung
als die Hauptschanze aufweisen (Wieland 1999b:187ff. mit
weiterer Literatur ).
Richten wir den Blick noch auf die ehemaligen Zugänge,
die Tore. Sie sind bei den obertägig erhaltenen Schanzen
durch breite Wallücken erkennbar. Wurden entsprechende
Grabungen durchgeführt, konnten in den Wallücken die
Reste von teilweise eindrucksvollen Toranlagen freigelegt
werden (Bittel, Schiek u. Müller 1990:34 ff.).
Eine charakteristische Grundrißform, die mehrfach belegt
ist, besteht aus je zwei parallelen Reihen von Pfostengruben
beiderseits des Durchgangs. Die Pfostengruben weisen z.T.
mächtige Ausmaße auf (z.B. Pliezhausen-Rübgarten), was
auf entsprechende Dimensionen des Torgebäudes hinweisen
dürfte.
Vielleicht muss man sich sogar turmartige Gebäude
vorstellen? In Verbindung mit dem angeschütteten Wall,
welcher vielleicht noch eine Bekrönung aus einer Palisade
oder lediglich einer Hecke besaß (Abb. 10.2, 3), hätten
solche Tore gleichermaßen wehrhaft wie repräsentativ
Enclosing the Past

Abbildung 10.3. Rekonstruktionsversuch der Toranlage von Einsiedel-Rübgarten.

gewirkt (Wieland 1999b:39:ff.).
Es gibt einige Befunde (z.B. Riedlingen), die darauf
hinweisen, dass die Wälle seitlich direkt an den Torbau
angeschüttet waren – dies hatte man bislang eher abgelehnt Bersu, G. 1926. Die Viereckschanze bei Oberesslingen. Fund-
(Klein 1996).
Bei manchen Toranlagen (Schanze von Oberesslingen)
scheint der Durchgang etwas in den Innenraum hineinversetzt Bittel, K., Schiek, S. u. Müller, D. 1990. Die keltischen Viereck-
(Abb. 10.4), man denkt bei diesem Phänomen fast schon
an eine zeitgleiche Form der Fortifikation, die man in
entsprechend größeren Dimensionen kennt, nämlich die
Zangentore der keltischen Oppida.
Der Graben zieht vor den Viereckschanzentoren
stets durch – dies ist z.B. ein wesentlicher Unterschied
gegenüber römischen Kastellen, wo vor dem Tor eine
Erdbrücke ausgespart ist. Als Überbrückung des Grabens
diente eine Holzbrücke, deren Stützen im archäologischen
Befund mehrfach nachgewiesen sind, vielleicht wurden
diese Brücken bei drohender Gefahr einfach abgebaut – ein
weiterer Aspekt, den man im Sinne einer fortifikatorischen
Intention erklären könnte.
Es scheint jedenfalls angebracht, die Schutzfunktion von Krause, R. u. Wieland, G. 1993. Eine keltische Viereckschanze
Wall und Graben mit den mächtigen Torbauten als Teilaspekt
des „multifunktionalen Spektrums“ der Viereckschanzen
deutlich hervorzuheben. Damit sind die Viereckschanzen
zumindest im Erscheinungsbild befestigten Rechteckhöfen
sehr ähnlich, einer Siedelform, die wir sowohl aus älteren
als auch jüngeren Epochen als der Spätlatènezeit kennen.
Wesentlich scheint mir auch, dass diese Schutzfunktion
nicht nur im Zusammenhang mit dem Gebäudeensemble
im Innenraum zu sehen ist, sondern – denken wir an die
Annexwerke – auch ein Umfeld berücksichtigt, dass wir
bislang aber nur ansatzweise archäologisch fassen können.
Bibliographie
berichte Schwaben N.F. 3:61–70.
Bittel, K. 1978. Viereckschanzen und Grabhügel. Zeitschrift für
Schweizerische Archäologie und Kunstgeschichte 35:1–16.
schanzen. Atlas archäologischer Geländedenkmäler in Baden-
Württemberg 1. Stuttgart : Konrad Theiss.
Brunaux, J.-L. 1996. Les religions gauloises. Paris : Errance.
Drexel, F. 1931. Templum. Germania 15:1–6.
Irlinger, W. 1994. Viereckschanze und Siedlung – Überlegungen
zu einem forschungsgeschichtlichen Problem anhand
ausgewählter südbayerischer Fundorte. In C. Dobiat (Hrsg.)
Festschrift für Otto-Herman Frey zum 65. Geburtstag.
Marburger Studien zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 16:285–304.
Marburg: Hitzeroth.
Klein, F. 1996. Zur Viereckschanze „Klinge“ bei Riedlingen, Kr.
Biberach, Baden-Württemberg. In K. Schmotz (Hrsg.)Vorträge
des 14. Niederbayerischen Archäologentages, S. 155–172.
Deggendorf.
bei Bopfingen am Westrand des Rieses. Ein Vorbericht zu den
Ausgrabungen und zur Interpretation der Anlage. Germania
71:59–112.
Neth, A. 1999. Zum Fortgang der Ausgrabungen in der
zweiten Viereckschanze bei Nordheim, Kreis Heilbronn.
Archäologische Ausgrabungen in Baden-Württemberg S. 75–
79.
Paret, O. u. Bersu, G. 1922. Heiligkreuztal. Keltische Viereck-
schanzen im Oberamt Riedlingen. Fundberichte aus Schwaben
N.F. 1:64–74.
Pauli, L. 1991. Heilige Plätze und Opferbräuche bei den Helvetiern
und ihren Nachbarn. Archäologie der Schweiz 14:124–135.

138

Abbildung 10.4. Schematisierter Grundriss der Toranlage von Oberesslingen mit nach innen gesetztem Torbau.
Reichenberger, A. 1995. Zur Interpretation der spätlatènezeitlichen
Viereckschanzen. Jahrbuch RGZM 40:353–396.
Schumacher, K. 1899. Gallische Schanze bei Gerichtstetten (Amt
Buchen). Veröffentlichungen der Großherzoglich Badischen
Sammlungen für Altertums- und Völkerkunde in Karlsruhe 2:
76–84.
Schwarz, K. 1975. Die Geschichte eines keltischen Temenos im
nördlichen Alpenvorland. In Ausgrabungen in Deutschland
1:324–358. Mainz: RGZM.
Venclová, N. et al. 1998. Mšecké Zehrovice in Bohemia. Archaeo-
logical background to a Celtic hero. Sceaux: Kronos.
Wieland, G. 1995. Die spätkeltischen Viereckschanzen in
Süddeutschland – Kultanlagen oder Rechteckhöfe? In A.
Haffner (Hrsg.) Heiligtümer und Opferkulte der Kelten.
Archäologie in Deutschland, Sonderheft, S. 85–99. Stuttgart:
Konrad Theiss.
139
Wieland: Spätkeltische Viereckschanzen in Süddeutschland
Wieland, G. 1996. Die Spätlatènezeit in Württemberg.
Forschungen zur jüngeren Latènekultur zwischen Schwarzwald
und Nördlinger Ries. Forschungen und Berichte zur Vor- und
Frühgeschichte in Baden-Württemberg 63. Stuttgart: Konrad
Theiss.
Wieland, G. 1999a . Die keltischen Viereckschanzen von Fellbach-
Schmiden (Rems-Murr-Kreis) und Ehningen (Kr. Böblingen).
Forschungen und Berichte zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte in
Baden-Württemberg 80. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
Wieland, G. (Hrsg.) 1999b. Keltische Viereckschanzen – Einem
Rätsel auf der Spur Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
Zürn, H. u. Fischer, F. 1991. Die Viereckschanze von Tomerdingen.
Materialhefte zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte in Baden-
Württemberg 14. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.
11: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
Natalie Venclová
Abstract: Enclosing is a specific type of defining a space.
Iron Age enclosed areas offer a number of data contributing
to the recognition (or at least, indication) of the function and
significance of individual enclosures, and of the phenomenon
of enclosing in general. The present paper pays attention
mainly to local enclosures (serving individuals, family
groups or other small groups of people, and located within
settlements) and community enclosures (serving whole
communities and delimiting whole residential areas, ritual
areas etc.), although regional and supra-regional enclosures
also existed. It is argued that some of the first, but mainly
the second type of enclosures reflect types of behaviour
characteristic of elites. This is mainly true of the single
enclosures of the later part of the La Tène period, which
fill the gap in Central Europe in the settlement structure
between the oppida and emporia on the one hand, and rural
settlements on the other.
Keywords: enclosures, elites, space, settlement, Iron Age
Introduction
Enclosures, their appearance, function and significance
form a broad theme that accompanies the whole of prehistory
and history. They reflect phenomena of both short and long
duration in the most diverse areas of human endeavour.
While archaeologists continually meet traces of enclosure,
they often study them only at particular functional levels or
in specific contexts (e.g. fortification in warfare – albeit with
a far wider than merely military significance: Vencl 1984
with bibliography). There was a round-table dedicated to
the purpose of “Celtic” enclosures in France.1 There is,
however, an increasing number of scholars who are treating
the phenomenon of spatial enclosure as a subject in its own
right, and who approach it from many different angles (e.g.
Hingley 1990; Langouët and Daire 1990; Collis 1996;
Andersson and Hållans 1997; Buchsenschutz 2000).
This paper considers those aspects of enclosing that
possibly have some relationship to elites and their residences;
it is based primarily on data from Iron Age enclosures in
Central, and to some extent also in Western, Europe.
Enclosing as a phenomenon
Enclosure represents a particular kind of delimitation, or
the definition of a particular space; the term “delimiting”
is wider, as a space may be delimited by means other than
physical enclosure, that is, symbolically.
Because humans are a territorial species, they necessarily
define and mark out their territory in some way; it is delimited
by enclosure or by zones of interaction (Sanders 1990:49–51
with refs). Sanders (1990:51) cites Lavin, who defined four
types of boundaries: psychological boundaries; personal
1 general land use and specific land use, and according to
Les enclos celtiques: pour quoi faire? In Revue archéologique de
Picardie nos. 1–2, 2000.
140
space / interpersonal boundaries; social (membership
of a group) boundaries; and socio-physical boundaries.
According to R.J. Lawrence (1990:77), boundaries may
serve one or more of the following purposes: 1. physical
(visual) barriers; 2. symbolic markers; 3. judicial borders
(limits of legal possession); 4. administrative limits (for the
management and control of domains). Boundaries of all
types form their own transition spaces. Enclosure creates
the categories of “inside” and “outside”; if the enclosure is
one of visible form, then this is the architectural creation of
space (Taylor 1997:194).
Invisible enclosures may be represented by an empty
space functioning as a border zone, a transition, a “no man’s
land” or a contact (interactivity) zone; while such space
may be lacking physical content, it may also be full of
mental content (Andersson and Hållans 1997:600–602).
In principle, enclosures contain or exclude something
(cf Collis 1996): for example, they may protect, control
or enclose groups of people, cattle, goods, or production,
trading or ritual activities etc. within, or keep enemies,
animals or unclean forces outside. Boundaries may also
mutually divide individual spaces and activities.
The basic division of enclosures by function is usually
understood to be into defensive and non-defensive, or
military and non-military, although in both cases enclosures
clearly had not only a practical function but also a symbolic
significance. It has even been suggested that some enclosures
have an exclusively symbolic function (Neustupný 1995).
The term “fortification”, generally understood to mean a
defensive military structure, is usually used for stronger
boundaries, although, as Vencl (1984:105–107, 116–117)
has noted, the majority of these “defensive” elements could
also have served non-military, profane or ritual uses; their
archaeological similarity may hide functional differentiation.
Military and non-military use may also have alternated.
At a social level, enclosures may mean a certain
exclusivity of a select part of the population, i.e. the division
of one group of people from others, and might also express
the social status and prestige of such groups in whole or in
part (Hingley 1990; Collis 1996:90). Enclosures may also
be areas of particular activities – residential spaces, fields,
pastures, ritual (including burial) areas.
Archaeological finds demonstrate a whole range of the
most diverse boundary types. These may be classified by
their construction techniques from light wooden fences to
earthworks to stone ramparts with wooden elements and
earth fills, accompanied by ditches of various sizes; very
light barriers may of course escape archaeological detection
entirely. The type, technique and size of an enclosure clearly
related to the function of the whole enclosed space.
The form, character and use of enclosures (or more tersely,
the what, how, and why of enclosure) undoubtedly related to
the given social system, and evolved along with it..
J. Collis (1996; this volume) classifies enclosures accord-
ing to the size of the enclosed area as regional, territorial,
function as activity areas, community areas, display and
141
Figure 11.1. Local enclosures: examples from the oppida in Bohemia. After Drda & Rybová 1997, fig. 18, 19.
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
 Enclosing the Past

142
Figure 11.2. Community enclosure: reconstruction of the Late Hallstatt to Early La Tène enclosure of Němětice in Bohemia.
After Michálek & Lutovský 2000, fig. 7, 31.

Figure 11.3. Community enclosure: the Viereckschanze-type enclosure of Mšecké Žehrovice in Bohemia and the stone
head found in its vicinity.
status areas, and areas for symbolic acts.
A somewhat different point of view is offered by
the categorisation of enclosures according to who, or
rather which group of people, they served. While such
classification is difficult and necessarily complicated to
observe archaeologically, an attempt at it, and the application
of the results obtained, might help to build a model of the
social structure of society in a given period. Because, as
noted several times above, some enclosures, or rather the
phenomenon of enclosing in itself, is considered to be an
expression of status, prestige and a display of power and
strength, a recognition of their users might contribute to the
identification of the elites in individual societies.
With the aid of the archaeological data available for Iron
Age Central Europe, which forms the study area of this
paper, enclosures may be divided as follows:
• Local (or individual) enclosures: predominantly serving
individuals or small groups, i.e. in most cases only a
part of a larger community. They are found within, or
are part of, areas for residence, production, ritual etc.
Archaeologically they may be manifested by wooden
fences around houses (Fig. 11.1), workshops or individual
homesteads within a residential area (settlement), or
by light enclosures around graves or groups of graves
within a burial area (cemetery), or by the boundaries of
ritual areas built within residential or burial areas.
• Community enclosures: serving the whole community
or several communities. They delimit entire areas for
residence, production, ritual, etc., within a community
area (cf the theory of settlement/community areas as
perceived by E. Neustupný, 1993 with refs., according
to which a community area is a space used and exploited
by one community and divided into areas for residence,
storage, refuse, food production, burial etc., which thus
constitute sub-areas of the settlement area as a whole).
Areas of particular activities, or sub-areas as parts of
a community area, often overlap or were not strictly
divided, let alone enclosed; in other cases, however,
the division and enclosure of activity areas occurs.
This category includes, for example, single enclosed
settlement units (Fig. 11.2, 3, 4), hill-forts or single
enclosed sanctuaries.
143
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
• Regional (territorial) enclosures: serving or comprising
several communities, perhaps even a large number of
communities. These might be, for example, delimitations
of tribal territories, as, for example, some of the dykes
known from the British Isles appear to have been.
• Supra-regional enclosures: defining a territory with a
very large population, e.g. the frontier (limes) of the
Roman Empire.
For the purposes of studying elites, the first two categories
of enclosures are the most suitable, offering relatively
large quantities of data, and they will be considered below.
First, however, it is necessary to consider the frequently
discussed, but not really solved, problem of recognising
elites in archaeological material in general, and in the Iron
Age in particular.
Elites and archaeology
Social inequality may be expressed through material and
immaterial correlates. The visibility of this inequality, and
thus also of the elite, is naturally problematic in archaeology.
Status differentiation is reflected materially by a pattern of
unequal distribution in valuable goods or commodities; it
must, however, be borne in mind that objects considered
to have prestige value need not have had a potential
usefulness, including a use value, labour value or exchange
value according to Renfrew (1986). Exceptional material
riches and the ownership of prestige artefacts related to the
status, prestige and power of the elite, and were among the
expressions of its behaviour.
This behaviour may include:
conspicuous consumption through banqueting and feasting,
but also the ostentatious display of prestige artefacts;
residential differentiation including the creation of
prestigious architecture;
spatial differentiation, separation or advantageous location
– residential or ritual (which may include the enclosing of
space);
central storage and redistribution of important products
(for internal and external consumption and exchange); as
well as:
 Enclosing the Past
Figure 11.4. Community enclosures: farms - fermes - Einzelhöfe and Viereckschanze-type enclosures in the Iron Age
Europe. After Venclová 2000.
Manifestations of ideology in general, perceptible in the
profane area (where martiality, for example, formed part
of it) and in the ritual area, however intertwined these two
areas may be (manifested by druidism, sanctuaries, and
art). In the archaeology of Iron Age Europe this behaviour
may be reflected, to different degrees, by the evidence or
indications set out below.
Conspicuous consumption has been identified, amongst
other things, through the existence of drinking feasts. These
must have been organised by a person or group of persons
who had the means to obtain or produce alcoholic drinks,
and the prestige necessary to call people together. The feast
was itself a gift, for which the host might receive reciprocal
services (cf Vencl 1994). It is with banqueting that finds
144
of drinking sets of vessels and other accessories (wine or
beer services), often imported from southern Europe, are
associated, as are finds of spits and fire-dogs. Other rewards
for service and attributes of status included prestige objects
of diverse kinds, although the identification of these in the
archaeological record may be disputed.
The European Iron Age provides a range of evidence
for residential differentiation. Periods with greater or
lesser differentiation of settlement units alternate: while,
for example, no hill-forts are known in Central Europe
from the LT B–C1 period, they were built during both Ha
D–LT A and in LT C2–D. Apart from open settlements or
hamlets, enclosures also appear in Ha C–LT A and in LT
(B)C–D. Not only did the erecting of boundaries require a

considerable labour investment both during building and for
maintenance, they were also accompanied by other traits that
might be linked to elites, i.e. ostentatious architecture, even
if in the form of conspicuous fortification with emphasised
or complex entrances (Collis 1996:90–91). Andersson and
Hållans (1997:588) see a stouter fence as an indication of
social stratification. Naturally, enclosures also ensured
the spatial separation from the outside. The built areas
within enclosed as well as unenclosed settlements were
often highlighted by a varying number of structures that
were more impressive. Creighton (2000:197–199) holds
that changes in the ground-plan of some houses from round
to rectangular in Britain during the first century BC reflect
changes in the behaviour of elites as a result of direct contact
between the local elites and those of the Roman Principate.
Architectural differentiation is held to be part of the evidence
for social stratification (Creighton 2000:17). One may
recall that, according to medieval sources for example, even
granaries could be prestige structures, demonstrating the
wealth of their owners in the stored product (Schmaedecke
2002:138–139). It would not, of course, be correct to infer
that the non-existence of residential differentiation means the
non-existence of an elite: an example from high medieval
Ireland shows that an unwillingness to invest in high-quality
accommodation occurs, for example, in periods when it is
necessary to change place of residence quickly, or where
there is periodic land distribution, land is not inherited
and therefore the building of large, impressive houses is
without value (O’Conor 2002:208). At cemeteries, chamber
graves beneath large barrows may be regarded as prestige
structures.
The (thus far limited) indications of centralised storage
would imply some form of control of grain (or other product)
storage by the elite, created against cases of crop failure or
war (Roymans 1996:49). Some enclosures, such as the
French fermes isolées or the Central European rectangular
enclosures of the La Tène period, provided standing buildings
of considerable size, the construction of which is similar to
that of structures generally identified as granaries (Malrain,
Méniel and Talon 1994), and sometimes these may even be
the only structures present; there is some discussion as to
whether these are houses or granaries, and as to whether
such enclosures can be interpreted as central storage sites.
In the latter case they would reflect the redistribution of
products, controlled by the local elite.
A marked aspect of the ideology of the Iron Age is
represented by martiality as an expression of warrior-elites;
it is largely reflected by classical written evidence, as well
as by the medieval epics. N. Roymans explains martiality
as an elite code of behaviour, although it may also have
been supported by lower social groups, as demonstrated by
the large number of graves containing weapons. Warfare
was a means of obtaining booty, prisoners and prestige, and
was therefore essential for the reproduction of the economic
and social power of elite groups (Roymans 1996:13–16).
Martiality is directly linked to horse riding and chariot use,
as well as to cattle raiding; the horse and cattle evidently
represented important exchange items in the prestige
sphere of the economy (Roymans 1996:45–46). J. Creighton
(2000:15–18, 22) sees the horse imagery on coins as a
connection between horses and the elite, and as a symbol
of power. A chariot, weaponry, horse trappings and spurs,
together with a torc, were among the material expressions
of status.
145
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
Ritual and its ideology was in the hands of the non-profane
elites. From the written sources we know that this elite
was represented in the La Tène period by the druids. Their
presence and activity is clearly reflected in the existence of
ritual areas and votive deposits, but also in the symbolic
sphere as a whole, permeating not just the ritual but also
the profane world. The building of cult places (those which
existed in a stable form, such as sanctuary enclosures of
the Gournay type in northern France for example) required
work by many members of the community, or of several
communities under the direction of a spiritual or secular
elite.
Art represented one of the few material manifestations
of ideology. It passed on messages by means of symbols
comprehensible to those who belonged within the given
cultural and religious sphere. The question remains as to
where the craftsmen, or rather artists, worked to produce the
richly decorated objects and evocative sculptures; it seems
likely that their work was undertaken under the control
of members of the elite, and that they were thus attached
craftsmen. The imagery on coins was also part of the
symbolic entity: the first (gold) coins minted in the La Tène
world are regarded as having been symbolic items which
only later gained true trading value as means of payment.
Elites and enclosures
In considering the expressions of the behaviour of elites
in the Iron Age we have already touched several times on
the phenomenon of enclosure. The purpose of this section
is to assess to what extent this phenomenon may be related
to elites. Its starting point will be local and community
enclosures in Iron Age Central or Western Europe, and
examples will be drawn predominantly from the Hallstatt
and La Tène periods.
The field of study is distinguished by numerous enclosed
areas – hill-forts, enclosed settlements and smaller single
enclosed sites (usually called farmstead or single farm
in Britain, ferme isolée or ferme indigène in France and
Einzelhof or Rechteckhof in Germany). Both residential
and polyfunctional areas – linking residential, production
and sometimes also ritual activities – could have been
enclosed; not only were a number of hill-forts obviously
polyfunctional, but so were the farms already mentioned.
Exclusively ritual enclosed areas, or sanctuaries, are also
known, represented by the formally variable sacred precincts
of Britain and the strongly standardised square sanctuaries
of northern France (the “Gallo-Belgic group”). Previously,
the Central European rectangular areas of Viereckschanze
type were also regarded as ritual areas. Enclosures also
appear in funerary contexts at this time.
The subject matter of the analysis presented below
comprises enclosed spaces with particular formal
characteristics: they may be defined as non-defensive and
non-funerary, generally quadrangular features, enclosed
by a palisade or wooden fence, or by bank and ditch. In
size they often measure around 1ha, but may be larger or
considerably smaller. These types of enclosed, rectangular
area appear both as parts of residential areas (settlements)
or as independent, isolated units, and in the classification
system described above must therefore belong to local or
community enclosures.
1. Local enclosures. The enclosed unit as part of a larger
Enclosing the Past
residential area – be it a village or hill-fort – falls within
the category of local enclosure. Such a unit is referred to
in archaeology as a homestead or Hofanlage, and the data
obtained thus far bear witness to residential, agricultural
and sometimes other production functions. The owners
of some of these enclosures are sometimes regarded as
having been persons of higher status, as such enclosures
contain, amongst other things, specialised workshops and
are situated at more advantageous or dominant locations
– within oppida, for example, on the ‘acropolis’ or on
major lines of communication, but also in the ‘bailey’
(examples from the oppidum of Závist in Central Bohemia:
Drda and Rybová 1995b:610; 1997:81–92; 2001). The
question remains as to whether Caesar may have used the
term aedificium, where exceptionally it refers to a structure
within a village (de bello Gallico III: 6), to refer not to a
house, as is sometimes assumed, but to a bounded unit of the
category of local enclosures (cf Buchsenschutz and Ralston
1986; Ralston 1992:142).
2. Community enclosures. Single enclosed units fall within
the category of community enclosures. They probably had
multiple functions, primarily residential and agricultural,
possibly linked to production activities, but an important
social role is also presumed. In Western Europe such units
are regarded as the most common type of settlement since
the Bronze Age (Buchsenschutz 1994:19–22). It is to single
enclosures that Caesar’s term aedificium, in the sense of
a lone, isolated farmstead or settlement unit other than a
village (e.g. de bello Gallico I:5, II:7, IV:4, VII:14, etc.)
most likely refers, even if the explanation of this term as an
isolated house outside a village has also been proposed (cf
the overview in Buchsenschutz and Ralston 1986:385–386).
Caesar’s reference to the presence of Ambiorix in an isolated
enclosure (de bello Gallico VI:30) is sometimes taken as
showing that the place was the seat of an important person,
although other explanations also exist; the differing status
of single enclosures is something that is assumed, however
(Ralston 1992:142, 153).
Single enclosures are a very common find in the Ha C
to LT A period (amongst other things thanks to aerial
archaeology) in southern Germany (e.g. Becker 1992;
Reichenberger 1994, etc.), and recent discoveries show that
their frequency is also increasing in Bohemia (Michálek
and Lutovský 2000; Chytráček 1994; Smrž 1996). Single
farms from the later La Tène period were, however, thought
to be almost absent in Central Europe, providing a marked
contrast to the settlement pattern in Western Europe.
The missing element appears, however, if the Central
European enclosures known as Viereckschanze are
considered (Fig. 11.4). Well-documented territories such as
Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg show that large numbers
of such enclosures existed (cf Bittel, Schiek and Müller
1990, Abb. 9), and they also appear in Bohemia and Moravia
(cf Venclová 1998, fig. 115) in numbers that have recently
increased thanks to the use of aerial survey (cf Foster,
Venclová and Křivánek 2004). There was until recently
some difficulty in the understanding of the significance and
function of these areas, resulting in a long-held belief in an
exclusively cultic interpretation.
Central European La Tène quadrangular enclosed areas
(hereafter referred to by the working term “quadrangular
enclosures”) were until recently regarded as the counterparts
of the British La Tène sanctuaries or of sacred precincts
of the so-called “Gallo-Belgic” type in France (on their
146
characteristics cf Wait 1985; Brunaux 1996; Roymans
1990:62–84 with refs.; Venclová 1998:209–210), which
in a strictly formal sense they do indeed resemble: they
are found in non-strategic locations, are enclosed by a bank
and ditch and contain buildings with unusual plans. The
enclosure at Holzhausen in Bavaria was regarded as typical,
the interpretation of which as an imitation of a temenos, a
Greek sacred precinct, and the structure within as a derivative
of the Classical temple, became a model (Schwarz 1975; for
an evaluation of the excavations at Holzhausen cf Wieland
1996:42). Only recently have excavations in Germany
and Bohemia, as well as changing theoretical approaches
in the 1990s in particular, brought major changes in the
understanding of the function of these features which are
now seen as settlement units, comprising, among their
multiple functions, also the ritual and ceremonial elements
(Venclová 1993; 1998; 2000; Wieland 1996:52 and
this volume; Buchsenschutz 2000:10–11; most recently
Rieckhoff 2002:364–367, 371).
In those quadrangular enclosures of Viereckschanze type
excavated more extensively, evidence has been found of
settlement activities. Well-known examples include the
enclosures at Ehningen, Fellbach-Schmiden and Bopfingen
in Baden-Württemberg, as well as many others (Bittel,
Schiek and Müller 1990 with refs.; Wieland 1996 with refs.;
1999). Of the Bohemian sites, the quadrangular enclosure
at Mšecké Žehrovice, well-known for the stone head found
in its immediate vicinity, has been investigated. It contained
not only an unusual wooden structure but also sunken huts,
storage pits, and a large quantity of pottery and other objects
attesting common domestic activities (Venclová 1998).
These finds demonstrate that Central European quadrangular
enclosures served for settlement; this does not, of course,
rule out the possibility that at the same time other activities
might also have taken place within them. The farm or
farmstead in the sense of an independent settlement unit fills
the thus far unexplained gap in Central Europe between the
oppida and the emporia (large settlement agglomerations
with production and trading functions, called “vici” by
Rieckhoff, 2002) on the one hand, and the common rural
settlements on the other. The settlement hierarchy in this
part of La Tène Central Europe thus approaches that known
from the same period in Western Europe.
Why were these areas enclosed, if they had no military
significance? Was their enclosure an expression of prestige
and status? It is necessary to examine whether the relevant
finds accord with the presumed material manifestations of
the behaviour of elites, as described above.
Conspicuous consumption
Given Poseidonius’ reference to the Celts building
enclosed areas for the purpose of banqueting (Poseidonius,
Historiae), the sites of such drinking feasts have sometimes
been sought in some enclosures, e.g. the Viereckschanzen.
While there have indeed been efforts to demonstrate feasting
at Viereckschanze-type enclosures through archaeological
finds such as bowls or drinking vessels (Murray 1995),
credible evidence supporting this hypothesis is not available
(Venclová 1997). According to the new analysis of the
passage in Poseidonius, it has been assumed by J.-L. Brunaux
(2000:272–274) that the text deals with light wooden
fenced temporary areas built just for one-off feasts, and
not farmsteads. Although occasional feasting or “parties”

Figure 11.5. Wooden buildings from different contexts in the La Tène Central and Western Europe. After Venclová 2002b.
accompanied by the consumption of alcoholic drinks could
also have taken place within farmsteads, this was not their
only purpose. It would be most desirable to investigate,
e.g. the distribution and use of the large “storage” vessels,
which might have served not only for the keeping of various
products but also in the preparation and consumption of
beer as a drink suitable for banqueting (Vencl 1994:306–
310). The presence of an above-average inventory, which
might be the material correlate of status and prestige, has
been identified at a series of La Tène enclosures (Rieckhoff
2002:364 with refs.). A large quantity of imported wine
amphorae at Paule, Brittany, could have served for
either feasting or simple wine consumption: Ménez and
Arramond 1997:147–148). Another clearly above-average
artefact occurring in both of the enclosures named as well
147
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
as elsewhere is the anthropomorphic stone sculpture, which
is considered below in the sections on the symbolic sphere
and the non-profane elite.
Residential differentiation
The typologically highly diverse wooden post-built
buildings found in Viereckschanze-type enclosures were
originally classified as exceptional, differing from houses
in common settlements. This view is no longer accepted.
Parallels for all four structural categories can be found in
enclosures elsewhere in Europe, both at oppida and in the
open settlements; numerous examples are also known from
the French fermes, for example. In the crudest classification
the variability in the plans of these wooden houses contains
Enclosing the Past
four basic types (Fig. 11.5; Venclová 2000; Venclová
2002b:26–28): 1. single-aisled, undivided structures with
no internal construction (Mšecké Žehrovice II, Bopfingen
C); 2. single-aisled structures with a double row of posts
around the perimeter, or with a perimeter gully (Mšecké
Žehrovice I, feat. 0/87, Holzhausen, Arnstorf); 3. two-aisled
house with three rows of posts (Esslingen-Oberesslingen);
4. structures on a square plan with four posts, sometimes
surrounded by a gully (Ehningen A-E, Bopfingen B) – Refs:
Schwarz 1975; Bittel, Schiek and Müller 1990; Krause and
Wieland 1993; Venclová 1998, fig. 116, Tab. 30.
Type 1 appears continuously (e.g. at Manching: Köhler
1992, Abb. 16, 17, 18; Berry-au-Bac: Haselgrove 1990,
fig. 6A), while some structures of this type (e.g. with six
posts) have also been interpreted as granaries. Type 3
belongs to a type common and long-lasting across much
of Europe (Audouze and Buchsenschutz 1992:57–59, fig.
30b:15–20 with refs.). Type 4 is of plan similar to those that
are usually interpreted as granaries; such structures, with
four or sometimes six or more posts, are common at oppida
(e.g. Manching: Köhler 1992; Závist: Drda and Rybová
1997, fig. 29), but also appear in open settlements. They
may reach considerable size, comparable to the structures
in the quadrangular enclosures at Ehningen and Bopfingen
(Audouze and Buchsenschutz 1992:127–128, fig. 30a).
Returning to type 2, this relatively complex plan, whereby
inner posts are surrounded by vertical elements or gullies,
was interpreted at Holzhausen by Schwarz as a temple
with an ambulatory (Umgangstempel). The presumed
“ambulatories” of the structures known from La Tène
quadrangular enclosures are however small in width, varying
even within a single plan, and would have been unsuitable
for this purpose. Furthermore, the outer line of the plan
can be interpreted with a far greater degree of likelihood to
have been a structural element forming the outer wall of the
house, as shown by Drda in his well-argued reconstruction
of the building at Mšecké Žehrovice I (feature 0/87: Drda
1998). Essentially the same layout and size appears in the
“large houses” of the Bohemian La Tène settlements (see
Venclová 2002b, fig. 2 with refs.).
Size of house may, but need not, reflect the higher status
of its users, with scholars often preferring this interpretation
(cf the enclosure at Montmartin/Oise: Brunaux and Méniel
1997). Thus far we do not know what status was attached
to the houses (again of large size) with cellars: this type of
wooden house with a semi-sunken section as part of the plan
has been identified only recently in the Bohemian La Tène
(Vokolek, pers. comm.). The above-average significance
of a house may also be indicated by the existence of upper
floors for instance at Dolní Břežany (Fig.11.6; Drda and
Rybová 1995a:68-70), or by the rebuilding of the house
(known from Viereckschanze-type enclosures).
The coincidence of larger and more complex structures
mostly with enclosed areas of various types (isolated
enclosures, enclosed units within settlements or oppida)
suggests an interpretation in the sense of the relationship of
these structures (and the relevant enclosures?) to elites. S.
Rieckhoff (2002:364) speaks even of “town-like” impression
of the architecture of the quadrangular enclosures.
Spatial separation
While every enclosure is an expression of spatial separation,
whatever its purpose, the emphasising or “strengthening” of
148
boundaries indicates differentiation within this phenomenon.
It is an attribute of some enclosures; for example, enclosing
by bank and ditch is common at Viereckschanzen, unlike
the simple wooden fence of other enclosures. The earthen
banks of some enclosures were further improved (Fig. 11.7),
as with the stone and wattle structure on the top of the bank
at Mšecké Žehrovice (Venclová 1998:42, 76, 201, figs.
24A, 26), or with a palisade on top of the bank (perhaps
at Holzhausen and Altheim-Heiligkreuztal in southern
Germany: Wieland 1999:42, 125, 197–198 with refs).
Another conspicuous adjustment was the stone facing of
the outer side of the bank identified at Paule in Brittany in
the building phase dated to the 5th–4th century BC; post-
holes belonging to a structure on the bank were documented
at the same site in the building phase dated to the 2nd
century BC (Ménez and Arramond 1997:121, 136, figs. 5,
25). A possibly La Tène stone facing is also presumed at
the newly discovered quadrangular enclosure at Rakovice
in South Bohemia (Foster, Venclová and Křivánek 2004).
The use of the murus gallicus as a technique applied to
small enclosures, identified surprisingly in two cases – at
Meunet-Planches and Luant, both in Indre dép., France
– was of course even more ostentatious; apparently it was
not limited to the oppida alone, as previously assumed. It
is regarded as the architectural manifestation of prestige of
the nobility (Buchsenschutz 2000:9–10; 2002:267–269). It
is the conspicuous boundary, i.e. even just a bank and ditch
as opposed to a mere wooden fence that may indicate the
“elite” status of the enclosed areas concerned.
Centralised storage
Some enclosed units have been considered to be
community or supra-community storage places, given
the finds of structures similar in plan to normal granaries,
i.e. with four to six posts, but of large size (Bopfingen in
Germany: Krause and Wieland 1993; Wieland 1996:52).
The notion of a storage area matches the finds from some
French fermes, where the only identifiable structures are
large granaries (e.g. Serris-Les Rouelles: Bonin, Buchez and
Marion 1994:77, fig. 2; Fresnes-sur-Marne: Marion 1994,
101, fig. 5), or where granaries are particularly numerous
(Quimper-LeBraden: LeBihan et al. 1990:110, fig. 2; Jaux:
Malrain, Meniel and Talon 1994). Arguments have indeed
been made in favour of the greater capacity of storage
facilities (silos and granaries) in the fermes of the Late La
Tène period (Gransar 1996:99–100); it is however necessary
to note that the interpretation of the structures commonly
described as “granaries” is not straightforward, and some
may perhaps have been built to serve other purposes.
Martiality
The manifestations of warrior elites, known in particular
from the burial sphere (graves with weapons), are generally
difficult to trace in the settlement sphere. Finds of weapons
from oppida and other settlements are often regarded as
evidence of ritual activity, while they may merely be the
remains of the presence of a warrior elite. In enclosed
settlement units such remains are rare.
Chariots and warfare generally required horsepower.
There is considerable evidence for the breeding of horses,
but rather less on the differences in the numbers or sizes of
horses reared at different types of settlement, enclosed or

Figure 11.6. Dolní Břežany, Bohemia: reconstruction of an Early La Tène two-storied house. After Drda & Rybová
1998, fig. on p. 74.
unenclosed. In some enclosures the horse is represented in
above-average quantities among the bones (12% at Bussy-
le-Long: Auxiette 1996:101–103 in Pion; 22% at Plattling-
Pankofen: Doll 1999:65–66). Attention should be paid to
the size variability of horses in the La Tène period. Large
horses, less frequent than the dominant small horses, have
been recorded in the later part of the period in the West
(Buchsenschutz 2002:66) as well as at the oppida of Central
Europe (Peške 1993:216–217), and also in the quadrangular
enclosure at Mšecké Žehrovice (Beech 1998:234). Absence
of horse in some bone assemblages could, though, be
explained by the prohibition of their consumption (Méniel
1996:114–115). Further research is needed to support the
idea that large horses were preferred by the elite. Little is
also known as regards the stabling of horses and the storage
of fodder for them; it is possible that some of the “large
houses” were in fact stables, and that some of the “granaries”
served as barns.
Symbolic sphere
The ideological system of the La Tène Iron Age is
expressed in both ritual and profane contexts. Ritual precincts
(sanctuaries), where enclosed, are a specific instance of the
149
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
phenomenon. In Western Europe they may be identified by
specific votive deposits and from other standardised formal
indicators, a conspicuous example being the sanctuaries of
the Gallo-Belgic type in northern France (Brunaux 1996).
Other ritual areas need not have been sanctuaries, but
perhaps judicial/court precincts (Brunaux 2000:274). The
question of the identification of sanctuaries (exclusively
ritual spaces serving for communication with the gods)
in Central Europe represents a separate theme; limited
space precludes its detailed consideration in this paper.
The problem probably lies in that these sanctuaries clearly
did not resemble the formalised sacred spaces of Classical
Europe, the derivatives of which have been sought without
success by generations of archaeologists. The influence of
the Classical world in the last centuries BC apparently was
not, in this part of “barbarian” Europe, so direct that it would
influence the local organisation of ritual space.
The Viereckschanzen of Central Europe were clearly
multifunctional, being also ascribed some ritual, ceremonial
or gathering functions (Wieland 1999; Venclová 1998:221).
Druids as part of elite may have had their seat or been active
in some of these enclosures, but the expression of their
activities in the archaeological record will be recognisable
only with difficulty. They certainly influenced the symbolic
Enclosing the Past

Figure 11.7. Types of boundaries of the Iron Age community enclosures (Viereckschanzen and fermes).

150

sphere, as one of the manifestations of ideology.
Art may be considered a tool for the presentation of the
symbolic sphere. Sculptures, particularly anthropomorphic
ones, form a conspicuous part of it (Fig. 11.3, 8).
Archaeologically surviving (i.e. predominantly stone)
examples are so rare that their presence has been held to be
one of the criteria of sanctuaries, perhaps under the influence
of such Celtic/Ligurian sanctuaries as Roquepertuse or
Entremont, with their numerous sculptures, some of them
anthropomorphic. Today, however, the dominant view is
that these sculptures may be explained as heroes, sited in
spaces serving collective uses, and not as images of deities
within a sanctuary (Arcelin, Dedet and Schwaller 1992).
Stone sculptures also, albeit to a limited extent, form part
of inventories from La Tène enclosures with settlement
functions (Paule: Ménez and Arramond 1997; Yvignac:
Daire and Langouët 1992) and even settlements (Levroux:
Krausz, Soyer and Buchsenschutz 1989).
It is within this context that it is appropriate to mention
the well-known stone head from Mšecké Žehrovice in
Bohemia, found in a pit in close proximity to the enclosure
(Venclová 1998; Megaw and Megaw 1998 with refs.). If
this sculpture depicted a god, then it would strongly indicate
the existence of a sanctuary at the site – as was originally
assumed. If, however, it represented a particular individual,
as may have been the case (Megaw and Megaw 1998:292,
but doubted in the context of pages 284 and 286; Drda and
Rybová 1995a:119), then it would indicate the adoration of a
locally important individual or ancestor cult, this, however,
Figure 11.8. Stone heads from community enclosures (fermes) in Brittany: 1. Paule; 2. Yvignac. After Daire and Langouët
1992; Ménez et al. 1999.
151
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
is not typical of sanctuaries, as will be seen below.
The head from Mšecké Žehrovice has one significant
feature that shows that the aim of its creator was to depict a
human being who could even be classified socially, according
to its hairstyle. This comprises a narrow band of hair across
the crown of the head from ear to ear, with the whole of
the back of the head hairless, probably shaven. The high,
shaved head with a band of hair left above the forehead has
been identified by the present author (cf Venclová 2002a)
with a particular type of tonsure, i.e. the “Celtic” tonsure of
the monks of the early Christian church, documented in the
5th century AD and assumed to have been derived from the
druids. According to a Latin source – the manuscript of the
Venerable Bede – this tonsure was marked by the front hair
forming a “crown” (wreath of hair), while this crown did not
continue further back (Colgrave and Mynors eds. 1969:549,
note 4). According to other sources the druids apparently
shaved their heads to leave a band from one ear to the other,
earning them the nickname “baldies”, mael in Irish (Birkhan
1997:925–926, note 4, with refs.).
An excellent counterpart to the Mšecké Žehrovice head
is the sculpture from the ferme at Yvignac in Brittany,
marked by a variety of the same hairstyle and interpreted
as depicting a revered ancestor (Daire and Langouët 1992).
This same function is ascribed to the four sculptures from
another ferme at Paule (Ménez et al. 1999). There are a
few further analogies from elsewhere in Western Europe
(Venclová 2002a with refs.).
It is known that the Celts did not depict deities in a realistic
2
Enclosing the Past
human form – this is apparent from Diodorus’ description of
the reaction of the Celtic war leader Brennus to the statues
of the gods at Delphi (cf Kruta 1992:821), and from the
absence of sculptures of the gods in the documented La
Tène sanctuaries of northern France and Britain. Above
all, however, it is demonstrated by La Tène art in general,
which may be characterised as aniconic: the face or mask
is always hidden, and ambiguous. If these cases are indeed
depictions of gods, then they (or rather, their parts and
individual elements) are enciphered in complex images
(Kruta 1992). Who, then, do the rare realistic sculptures
of human heads or figures represent? If the gods are ruled
out, only concrete humans remain – probably significant or
famous forebears, or, more generally, heroes. The objects
of heroisation among the Celts were (e.g. according to the
Irish myths) members of elites, often warriors, but also
learned men and healers (Arcelin, Dedet and Schwaller
1992:202). Druids fit particularly well into this category,
being characterised in written reports (e.g. de bello Gallico
VI:13) as seers, teachers, judges, counsellors, poets etc.
One of the four anthropomorphic sculptures found in the
ferme at Paule in Brittany had a lyre, and was most likely
a bard. Bards, along with druids, belonged to a class or
group or people held in particular reverence, and were thus
potentially heroes.
Heroes were often venerated at a local or regional level.
The adoration of heroes was separate from the cult of
the deities, and need not have taken place in sanctuaries;
rather, it may be assumed to have been directly linked to
community life and to have taken place on important routes,
border locations or settlements with above-average (e.g.
production, trade etc.) functions. The sculptures described
match the notion of the local heroisation of a one-time
important member of a non-military elite in the space of an
above-average enclosed settlement unit.
Conclusion
Iron Age single enclosures had multiple functions. After
a long period when they were exclusively identified with
sanctuaries, this can also be said of the Central European
Viereckschanze-type enclosures (Pauli 1991:129; Ralston
1992:116; Müller 1993:180; Venclová 1993; Krause
and Wieland 1993; Wieland 1996:52). In Britain, small
enclosures of the Iron Age have been interpreted as
defined locales for meeting, communication, exchange and
communal rituals, or as key places sited at points of tenurial
or social transition (Taylor 1997:202). The French fermes
are in general seen rather as agricultural settlement units in
which cattle-breeding was important, but are also associated
with the overproduction of foodstuffs, as manifested in
their considerable storage capacity (Pion 1996:89; Gransar
1996:99–100), and are linked with the holding of land or
with a rural elite which during the La Tène period was
not based only in the oppida (Buchsenschutz 1996:9–12;
Brunaux 2000:175–276). As we have seen, neither the
storage or ritual activities are absent there. A notable fact is
the continual development, perhaps from as early as the LT
C, of fermes and enclosures, leading, in those parts of Europe
which became part of the Roman Empire, into Roman villas
(Langouët and Daire 1990:110–111; Roymans 1996, 55–
58; Bayard and Collart eds. 1996; Derks 1998:58–59).
These villas, as well as La Tène enclosures – which in a
152
number of cases preceded the former and are even termed
“proto-villas” (Frey 2000) or “separate elite dwellings”
(Haselgrove 2000:105), are being linked with appearance
of classes of landowners and entrepreneurs (Haselgrove
1996:177–178), so that some fermes may be associated with
the appearance of a more hierarchical social structure in the
later La Tène (Roymans 1996:55–58). This is not to say,
of course, that all of these enclosures must have been of
equally high status.
The presumption of polyfunctionality of the Central
European quadrangular enclosures in no way contradicts
their present interpretation as the seats of a rural elite; S.
Rieckhoff regards this as a given fact supported by luxury
items and architecture (Rieckhoff 2000:361–371). The
idea expressed already by K. Schumacher (see Wieland
1996:37–45 for an overview of opinions as to the function
of these areas) has thus returned, supported by new
archaeological finds. On the basis of the excavations of the
enclosure at Mšecké Žehrovice, which identified both an
“exceptional” post-built structure and semi-sunken features
with above-average settlement finds, the hypothesis was
proposed that the quadrangular enclosures of the Central
European La Tène, situated outside settlements and oppida,
served as seats of the elite (Venclová 1998:221). The term
elite is here understood to include individuals of druidic
status. Certain ceremonial activities and gatherings, as
well perhaps as some central activities, possibly connected
to the adoration of an illustrious forebear/hero or under
the auspices of same, might well also have found a place
within a seat of an elite group. The enclosure of such loci
by banks (sometimes even with stone facings) can clearly
be explained by the higher status of the community at the
site with its diverse and evidently above-average functions.
As has been demonstrated, the behaviour which typically
implies an elite is reflected in the material culture of such
enclosures. This is not to say that the elite was not also
seated elsewhere, for instance in other type of enclosed
settlement sites such as oppida, or perhaps also in part in
small “local” enclosures within open settlements. The
variability of the presumed seats of “high society” confirms
that it was stratified. Enclosing, if it employs elements more
complex than a simple wooden fence, may be one of the
indicators of the elite use of space.
Acknowledgements
This research was conducted within a project supported
by the Grant Agency of the Czech Republic, reg. no. 404/97/
K024. The figures have been adjusted and digitised by M.
Mazancová.
Bibliography
Andersson, C. and Hållans, A.-M. 1997. No trespassing: physical
and mental boundaries in agrarian settlements. In Andersson,
H., Carelli, P. and Ersgård, L. (eds) Visions of the past: trends
and traditions in Swedish medieval archaeology. Lund Studies
in Medieval Archaeology 19:583–602.
Appadurai, A. (ed) 1986. The Social Life of Things: commodities
in cultural perspective. Cambridge.
Arcelin, P., Dedet, B. and Schwaller, M. 1992. Espaces publics,
espaces religieux protohistoriques en Gaule méridionale.
Documents d´Archéologie Méridionale 15:181–242.

Audouze, F. and Buchsenschutz, O. 1992. Towns, Villages and
Countryside of Celtic Europe. London, Batsford.
Auxiette, G. 1996. La représentation des espèces domestiques
sur les établissement ruraux à La Tène finale dans la vallée de
l´Aisne. In D. Bayard and J.-L. Collart (eds) 1996:100–103.
Bayard, D. and Collart, J.-L. (eds) 1996. De la ferme indigène à la
villa romaine. Revue Archéologique de Picardie, No. spécial
11.
Becker, H. 1992. Das Grabenwerk von Weichering: ein hallstatt-
frühlatènezeitlicher Tempelbezirk und Vorläufer spätkeltischer
Viereckschanzen? Das archäologische Jahr in Bayern
1991:89–93.
Beech, M. 1998. Animal bones from Mšecké Žehrovice. In N.
Venclová 1998:225–258.
Birkhan, H. 1997. Kelten: Versuch einer Gesamtdarstellung ihrer
Kultur. Wien.
Bittel, K., Schiek, S. and Müller, D. 1990. Die keltischen
Viereckschanzen. Stuttgart, Konrad Theiss Verlag.
Bonin, T., Buchez, N. and Marion, S. 1994. Les installations
agricoles aux âges des métaux sur le plateau de la Brie:
l´exemple de Marne la Vallée (Seine-et-Marne). In O.
Buchsenschutz and P. Méniel (eds) 1994:71–96.
Brunaux, J.-L. 1996. Les religions gauloises: rituels celtiques de
la Gaule independante. Paris, Errance.
Brunaux, J.-L. 2000. Propriétés divines, possessions humaines:
la fonction symbolique de l´enclos. In Les enclos celtiques.
Revue archéologique de Picardie no. 1–2:271–278.
Brunaux, J.-L. and Méniel, P. 1997. La résidence aristocratique
de Montmartin (Oise). D.A.F. no. 64. Paris, Editions de la
Maison des Sciences de l´Homme.
Buchsenschutz, O. 1994. Introduction. In Buchsenschutz, O. and
Méniel, P. (eds) 1994:9–24.
Buchsenschutz, O. 1996. Les campagnes celtiques à la veille de
la conquête romaine: état de la question. In Bayard - Collart
(eds) 1996:9–12.
Buchsenschutz, O. 2000. Traces, typologie et interprétation des
enclos de l´âge du Fer. Revue Archéologique de Picardie
2000, No. 1/ 2:7–11.
Buchsenschutz, O. 2002. Die Entstehung von Wirtschaftszentren
in Gallien. In C. Dobiat, S. Sievers and T. Stöllner (eds)
2002:63–76.
Buchsenschutz, O. and Méniel, P. (eds) 1994. Les installations
agricoles de l´âge du Fer en Ile-de-France. Paris, Presses de
l´Ecole Normale Supérieure.
Buchsenschutz, O. and Ralston, I.B.M. 1986. En relisant la guerre
des Gaules. Revue Aquitania, Supplément 1:383–387.
Champion, T.C. and Collis, J.R. (eds) 1996. The Iron Age in Britain
and Ireland: recent trends. Sheffield, J.R.Collis Publications.
Chytráček, M. 1994. Štítary n. Radbuzou-Hostětice und Svržno
im Bezirk Domažlice: zwei befestigte Höhensiedlungen der
Hallstattzeit. Archäologische Arbeitsgemeinschaft Ostbayern/
West- und Südböhmen, 3. Treffen, 1994:58–66.
Colgrave, B. and Mynors, R.A.B. (eds) 1969. Bede´s Ecclesiastical
History of the English People. Oxford, Clarendon Press.
Collis, J. 1996. Hill-forts, enclosures and boundaries. In T.C.
Champion and J.R. Collis (eds) 1996:87–94.
Creighton, J. 2000. Coins and Power in Late Iron Age Britain.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
Daire, M.-Y. and Langouët, L. 1992. Une sculpture anthropomorphe
gauloise dans un enclos à Yvignac (Côte d´Armor). Les
Dossiers du Centre Regional Archéologique d’Alet 20:5–16.
Dannheimer, H. and Gebhard, R. (eds) 1993. Das keltische
Jahrtausend. Mainz, Zabern.
Derks, T. 1998. Temples and ritual practices: the transformation
of religious ideas and values in Roman Gaul. Amsterdam
Archaeological Studies 2. Amsterdam, Amsterdam
University.
Dobiat, C., Sievers, S. and Stöllner, T. (eds) 2002. Dürrnberg und
Manching. Wirtschaftsarchäologie im ostkeltischen Raum.
Bonn, Habelt.
153
Venclová: Enclosing, enclosures and elites in the Iron Age
Doll, M. 1999. Tier- und Menschenknochen. In G. Wieland (ed)
1999:61–67.
Drda, P. 1998. Reconstruction of the structure 0/87. In N. Venclová
1998:259–263.
Drda, P. and Rybová, A. 1995a. Les Celtes de Bohême. Paris,
Errance.
Drda, P. and Rybová, A. 1995b. Prostorové rozložení
specializovaného řemesla v zástavbě keltského oppida
(Spatial distribution of specialized crafts at a Celtic oppidum).
Archeologické rozhledy 47:596–613.
Drda, P. and Rybová, A. 1997. Keltská oppida v centru Boiohaema
(Die keltischen oppida im Zentrum Boiohaemums). Památky
archeologické 88:65–123.
Drda, P. and Rybová, A. 1998. Keltové a Čechy. Praha,
Academia.
Drda, P. and Rybová, A. 2001. Model vývoje velmožského
dvorce 2.–1. století před Kristem (Model der Entwicklung
des Herrengehöfts im 2.–1. Jahrhundert v. Chr.). Památky
archeologické 92:284–349.
Foster, P.J. Venclová, N and Křivánek, P 2004. Quadrangular
enclosure at Rakovice. In M. Gojda (ed.) Ancient Landscape,
Settlement Dynamics and Non-destructive Archaeology.
Prague, akademia, pp.249–265.
Frey, M. 2000. Die villa von Borg. Ein reiches Landgut mit
vorrömischer Tradition. In A. Haffner and S. v. Schnurbein,
(eds) 2000:41–50.
Gransar, F. 1996. Le stockage sur les établissements ruraux de La
Tène finale dans la vallée de l´Aisne. In D. Bayard and J.L.
Collart (eds) 1996:97–100.
Guichard, V., Sievers, S. and Urban, O.-H. (eds) 2000. Les
processus d´urbanisation à l´âge du Fer. Glux-en-Glenne,
Centre archéologique européen du Mont Beuvray.
Gwilt, A. and Haselgrove, C. (eds) 1997. Reconstructing Iron Age
Societies. Oxbow monograph 71. Oxford.
Haffner, A., v. Schnurbein, S. (eds) 2000. Kelten, Germanen,
Römer im Mittelgebirgsraum zwischen Luxemburg und
Thüringen. Bonn, Habelt.
Haselgrove, C. 1990. Later Iron Age settlement in the Aisne
valley: some current problems and hypotheses. In A. Duval,
J.-P. LeBihan and Y. Ménez (eds) Les Gaulois d´Armorique.
Revue Archéologique de l´Ouest suppl. no. 3:249–259.
Haselgrove, C. 1996. Roman impact on rural settlement and society
in southern Picardy. In Roymans, N. (ed) 1996:127–187.
Haselgrove, C. 2000. The character of oppida in Iron Age Britain.
In V. Guichard, S. Sievers and O.-H. Urban (eds) 2000:103–
110.
Hingley, R. 1990. Boundaries surrounding Iron Age and Romano-
British settlements. Scottish Archaeological Review 7:96–
103.
Kent, S. (ed) 1990. Domestic Architecture and the Use of Space.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
Köhler, K.-J. 1992. Siedlungsbefunde und Bebauungs-
rekonstruktion. In F. Maier et al. 1992:5–64.
Krause, R. and Wieland, G. 1993. Eine keltische Viereckschanze
bei Bopfingen am Westrand des Rieses. Germania 71:59–
112.
Krausz, S., Soyer, C. and Buchsenschutz, O. 1989. Une statue de
pierre anthropomorphe à Levroux. Revue Archéologique du
Centre de la France 28:77–90.
Kruta, V. 1992. Brennos et l´image des dieux: la représentation de
la figure humaine chez les Celtes. Académie des Inscriptions
et Belles-Lettres, Comptes rendus 1992:821–843.
Langouët, L. and Daire, M.-Y. 1990. Les enclos protohistoriques
et gallo-romains du nord de la Haute-Bretagne. Les Dossiers
du Centre Regional Archéologique d’Alet 1990:79–111.
Lawrence, R. J. 1990. Public, collective and private space: a study
of urban housing in Switzerland. In S. Kent (ed) 1990:73-91.
LeBihan, J.-P. 1990. Les mutations sur les sites ruraux de La Tène
Finale à Quimper (Finistère). In A. Duval, J.-P. LeBihan and Y.
Ménez (eds) Les Gaulois d´Armorique. Revue Archéologique
Enclosing the Past
de l´Ouest suppl. no. 3:261–270.
Maier, F. et al. 1992. Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen 1984-1987 in
Manching. Wiesbaden, Steiner Verlag.
Malrain, F., Meniel, P. and Talon, M. 1994. L´établissement rural
de Jaux/Le Camp du Roi (Oise). In O. Buchsenschutz and P.
Méniel (eds) 1994:159–184.
Marion, S. 1994. Ensembles fossoyés à vocation agro-pastorale de
la vallée de la Marne (Seine-et-Marne). In O. Buchsenschutz
and P. Méniel (eds) 1994:97–102.
Megaw, M.R. and Megaw, J.V.S. 1998. The stone head from
Mšecké Žehrovice: an essay on the human head in Early
Celtic art. In N. Venclová 1998:281–292.
Ménez, Y. and Arramond, J.-C. 1997. L´habitat aristocratique
fortifié de Paule (Côtes-d´Armor). Gallia 54:119–155.
Ménez, Y. et al. 1999. Les sculptures gauloises de Paule (Côtes-
d´Armor). Gallia 56:357–414.
Méniel, P. 1996. Importation de grands animaux romains et
amélioration du cheptel à la fin de l´age du Fer en Gaule
Belgique. Revue archéologique de Picardie no. 3–4:113–122.
Michálek, J. - Lutovský, M. 2000. Hradec u Němětic (Hradec bei
Němětice). Strakonice (Muzeum středního Pootaví) – Praha
(Ústav archeologické památkové péče středních Čech).
Motyková, K., Drda, P. and Rybová, A. 1988. Die bauliche Gestalt
der Akropolis auf dem Burgwall Závist in der Späthallstatt-
und Frühlatènezeit. Germania 66:391–436.
Müller, F. 1993. Kultplätze und Opferbräuche. In H. Dannheimer
and R. Gebhard (eds) 1993:177–188.
Murray, M.L. 1995. Viereckschanzen and feasting: socio-political
ritual in Iron-Age central Europe. Journal of European
Archaeology 3.2:125–151.
Neustupný, E. 1993. Archaeological Method. Cambridge,
Cambridge University Press.
Neustupný, E. 1995. The significance of facts. Journal of
European Archaeology 3.1:189–212.
O´Conor, K.D. 2002. Housing in Later Medieval Gaelic Ireland.
Ruralia IV. Památky archeologické - Supplementum 15:201–
210.
Pauli, L. 1991. Heilige Plätze und Opferbräuche bei den Helvetiern
und ihren Nachbarn. Archäologie der Schweiz 14:124–135.
Peške, L. 1993. Animal utilisation in the La Tène period. In Actes
du XII Congrès UISPP, Bratislava (Institut Archéologique de
l´Académie Slovaque des Sciences) 1993:213–217.
Ralston, I.B.M. 1992. Les enceintes fortifiées du Limousin.
D.A.F. no. 36. Paris, Editions de la Maison des Sciences de
l´Homme.
Reichenberger, A. 1994. „Herrenhöfe” der Urnenfelder- und
Hallstattzeit. Regensburger Beiträge zur prähistorischen
Archäologie 1:187–215.
Renfrew, C. 1986. Varna and the emergence of wealth in prehistoric
Europe. In Appadurai, A. (ed) 1986:141-168.
Rieckhoff, S. 2002. Der Untergang der Städte. Der Zusammenbruch
154
des keltischen Wirtschafts- und Gesselschaftssystems. In C.
Dobiat, S. Sievers, and T. Stöllner (eds) 2002:359–379.
Roymans, N. 1990. Tribal Societies in Northern Gaul: an
anthropological perspective. Amsterdam.
Roymans, N. 1996. The sword or the plough: regional dynamics
in the romanisation of Belgic Gaul and the Rhineland area. In
N. Roymans (ed) 1996:9–126.
Roymans, N. (ed.) 1996. From the Sword to the Plough.
Amsterdam, Amsterdam University Press.
Sanders, D. 1990. Behavioral conventions and archaeology:
methods for the analysis of ancient architecture. In S. Kent
(ed.) 1990:43–72.
Schmaedecke, M. 2002. Zur Kontinuität von Getreidespeichern
auf Stützen von vorgeschichtlicher Zeit bis in die frühe
Neuzeit. Ruralia IV. Památky archeologické, Supplementum
15:134–142.
Schwarz, K. 1975. Die Geschichte eines keltischen Temenos im
nördlichen Alpenvorland. In Ausgrabungen in Deutschland
1:324–358.
Smrž, Z. 1996. Das frühlatènezeitliche Gehöft bei Droužkovice
(Kr. Chomutov, NW Böhmen). Památky archeologické
87:59–94.
Taylor, J. 1997. Space and place: some thoughts on Iron Age and
Romano-British landscapes. In A. Gwilt and C. Haselgrove
(eds) 1997:192–204.
Vencl, S. 1984. Otázky poznání vojenství v archeologii (Problems
relating to the knowledge of warfare in archaeology). Prague,
Archeologický ústav ČSAV.
Vencl, S. 1994. The archaeology of thirst. Journal of European
Archaeology 2.2:299–326.
Venclová, N. 1993. Celtic shrines in Central Europe: sceptical
approach. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 12, no. 1:55–66.
Venclová, N. 1997. On enclosures, pots and trees in the forest.
Journal of European Archaeology 5.1:131-150.
Venclová, N. 1998. Mšecké Žehrovice in Bohemia. Archaeological
background to a Celtic hero, 3rd–2nd cent. BC. Sceaux,
Kronos.
Venclová, N. 2000. Dvorce a druidové (Enclosures and druids). In
I. Pavlů (ed) In Memoriam Jan Rulf, Památky archeologické,
Supplementum 13:458–471.
Venclová, N. 2002a. The Venerable Bede, druidic tonsure and
archaeology. Antiquity 76, No. 292:458–471.
Venclová, N. 2002b. Celtes, idéologie et pensée independante:
exemple des enceintes carrées en Europe Centrale. Studia
Hercynia VI:23–36.
Wait, G.A. 1985. Ritual and Religion in Iron Age Britain. B.A.R.
British Series 149. Oxford.
Wieland, G. 1996. Die Spätlatènezeit in Württemberg. Stuttgart,
Konrad Theiss Verlag.
Wieland, G. 1999. Keltische Viereckschanzen. Einem Rätsel auf
der Spur. Stuttgart, Konrad Theiss Verlag.
12: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila
John Collis
Summary: The article contrasts two areas, one in southern
England which has been progressively enclosed since the
Bronze Age, the other in central Spain which has largely
remained unenclosed, indeed, is still undergoing the process.
The nature and circumstances of enclosure are contrasted,
and, on the evidence of how the Spanish landscape is
utilised, some traditional interpretations are queried of how
the prehistoric and Roman landscape of Wessex functioned.
Keywords: Wessex, Ávila, Iron Age, Roman, modern,
enclosure
Introduction: Wessex
I come from Winchester, the capital of the ancient Saxon
kingdom of Wessex in southern England. My childhood was
spent in the suburbs of the city in an area of mainly middle-
class houses, though with some ‘prefabs’ – temporary
wartime housing for more working-class families. But all
of us had our gardens, for flowers, lawns, vegetables and,
in the case of my own family, an orchard and areas for nut
bushes and soft fruits. Every garden was surrounded by
a hedge, or, for more recent boundaries, fences of strands
of wire stretched between concrete posts. In the city itself
almost everyone had a garden, at the back of the house an
area for vegetables and lawns, divided from one another by
walls of flint and brick, and at the front a small area for
flowers, enclosed by low brick walls, often with the sawn off
stumps of metal railings – the railings themselves had been
removed and melted down as part of the ‘war-effort’ in the
1940s. The countryside around consisted of fields enclosed
by hedges usually some 2m high, of hawthorn, layered and
trimmed. Only in a few higher areas was there still open
‘downland’, areas of traditional pasture used mainly by
flocks of sheep (though those were becoming rare). But in
the years of land hunger during and after the war, up to the
1960s and even later, these areas too were being enclosed
and ploughed, often for the first time in 2000 years. I was
brought up to assume that enclosure was the norm, to show
ownership, to give privacy, to confine livestock, and to
protect crops and garden produce.
Yet, even at school we were taught that it had not always
been thus. In the towns perhaps; Winchester was first
enclosed in the early Roman period with a bank and ditch,
and to this in the late Roman period was added a stone wall
which was regularly repaired up to the 18th century when
it became redundant and was largely demolished. The
rectilinear street layout we now know was laid out in the
Late Saxon period, in the early 10th century, along with
many of the burgage plots which are still recognisable
on the city plan a thousand years later (Biddle 1973). In
the countryside too the medieval villages had consisted
of ‘crofts and tofts’, cottages with their enclosed gardens
(Aston and Lewis 1994). But the landscape around was
open, areas of cultivated fields shared in common, and
outfield ploughed more rarely, and beyond, the pastures
155
and woodlands occupied by herds of livestock under the
control of cowherds, shepherds and swineherds. Otherwise
enclosure was sporadic – woodland enclosures, and deer
parks where the elite could hunt the highly protected deer.
This medieval system started to come to an end in the 14th
century with Acts of Parliament to allow rich landowners
to enclose and appropriate the best agricultural land and
the meadows for pasture, while their sheep flocks roamed
the downlands, producing the all-important and lucrative
wool. As agricultural production intensified, more land was
enclosed, a process which continued up to the 20th century.
The late prehistoric and Roman periods were more
ambiguous. Alongside the Iron Age hill-forts, the Roman
towns and some Roman villas, the settlement system was
dominated by small enclosed settlements mainly known from
aerial photographs, but some still surviving as earthworks
even now on areas of uncultivated or lightly cultivated
downland. In addition, usually surviving around them, were
areas of small enclosed fields, the so-called ‘Celtic’ fields,
though such fields also can occur as large systematically laid
out blocks (‘co-axial’ field systems), which start appearing
in the Middle to Late Bronze Age (Cunliffe 2000). Some
of these are cut by linear boundaries enclosing large blocks
of land, the so-called ‘ranch boundaries’ of Late Bronze
Age date. I have discussed elsewhere various aspects of
enclosure in Wessex and in the Iron Age of Britain in general
(Collis 1993, 1996), so here I shall only discuss them briefly.
Firstly we can talk of the scale of enclosure; I do not use
the word ‘hierarchy’ as different types of enclosure occur
at different times and in different places; never do they
all occur together, indeed some of them may be mutually
exclusive:
1: Regional: linear boundaries, perhaps defining or
defending tribal territories.
2: Territorial: subdivisions of territory controlled by
smaller units within some larger political or tribal entity,
for instance the dyke systems of the Yorkshire Wolds
(Dent 1983).
3: General Land Use Divisions: zones allocated for fields
systems, areas of lowland pasture, and areas of apparently
communal high-ground summer pasture.
4: Specific Land Use Divisions: areas of fields and of
pasture, divisions between houses or groups of houses,
but we can also consider the external and internal walls
of the buildings themselves, and individual rooms.
5: Containers: furniture, even drawers and boxes, storage
jars, silos and granaries.
Equally we can talk of a range of functions, though
boundaries can have multiple functions. We should beware
of simplistic interpretations based on surviving dimensions.
The defensive ditches of the forts used by Caesar at Alesia
and Gergovia are rarely more than a metre or two deep,
and in the case of the large camp at Gergovia they may
only survive to a depth of a few centimetres (Deberge and
Guichard 2000). Functions I have defined are:
1: Defensive.
2: Delimiting activity areas.
Enclosing the Past
3: Boundaries between communities.
4: Display and ostentation.
5: Defining the status of the inhabitants.
6: Symbolic.
The hill-forts are the most dominant feature of the Iron Age
landscape. Though there can be little doubt of their defensive
nature – sling-stones are commonly found at the entrances
and Maiden Castle at least was attacked and burned down
by the Roman army (Wheeler 1943) – nonetheless there are
also ideological aspects to them, and this may have been
more important than defence in some cases. Hill (1993) has
demonstrated that entrances open predominantly to the east
or the west. Most archaeologists agree that they are generally
a statement of power and prestige. For Cunliffe (1983) it is
a resident ‘king’ or ‘chief’; for Sharples (1991) and myself
it is the whole community as there is little evidence for high-
Figure 12.1. Owslebury, Hants, showing four phases of enclosure, starting with a banjo enclosure (source: author).
156
status individuals in the Early and Middle Iron Age when the
hill-forts were at their zenith. The density of the structures
within varies very considerably, from almost nothing to the
dense concentrations of houses, storage pits and four- and
six-post structures. Size too varies, and we all agree there is
no simple explanation which encompasses them all. I have
looked at a hierarchy of sites in terms of size, and noted
that the size and scale of the ramparts varies with the area
enclosed – big hill-forts have big ramparts and little hill-
forts have little ramparts – not what one would expect if the
ramparts were merely for defence (Collis 1977a). Cunliffe
has suggested a ‘rise to dominance’ model in which hill-
forts succeed while their neighbours fail and are deserted
(Cunliffe 1991); his ‘developed’ hill-forts becoming some
sort of ‘central place’. I have suggested an alternative
model, the ‘crisis model’ which has multiple trajectories and
 Collis: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila

Figure 12.2. Gussage All Saints, Dorset; showing the earlier single enclosure, followed by fragmentation in the 1st century
BC (after Wainwright 1979).

157
Enclosing the Past

Figure 12.3. Old Down Farm, Andover, Hants, showing the Early Iron Age enclosure and the fragmentation of the Late Iron
Age and Early Roman periods (after Davies 1981).

158
 Collis: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila
demands a more careful analysis of the data (Collis 1981).
On the whole, my model fits the data better, but it is far from
explaining everything (Collis 2002).
In contrast, the smaller Iron Age enclosures are non-
defensive. Firstly, the ditches are of smaller dimensions – up
to a maximum of 2–3m deep – and in some cases the bank
seems to be external if not almost non-existent: Cunliffe
(2000) has suggested that the chalk may have been removed
for marling, house building, etc. Thirdly, the dimensions
of the ditch can be variable, often being larger around the
entrance (in the case of Gussage All Saints the ditch defining
the entrance is 2.20m deep and the enclosure ditch 1.30m
deep near the entrance, while at the back of the enclosure
the ditch is only 0.5m or less deep and was perhaps also
discontinuous in some phases (Wainwright 1979). This was
not true at Owslebury; the entrance ditches are 1m deep at
most, the enclosure ditch at the entrance 1.20m deep, and at
the back of the enclosure 1.70m deep. Another peculiarity
of Owslebury was that the ditch was backfilled not long
after digging, and the fill included some fairly complete pots
and many burnt flints; McOmish (2001:75) has noted this is
not uncommon, suggesting that some enclosures may have
only been for some short-lived purpose. The enclosures
also vary in size from 0.5 ha to about 2 ha, and most contain
storage pits, quarries, four-post structures and, if they
survive, traces of round houses. Though one or two lack
such structures, and so may be for livestock, the majority
are single farms or small hamlets of 3–4 houses. The shape
of the enclosures also varies considerably: banjo-enclosures
such as Owslebury (Fig. 12.1) and Bramdean (Perry 1982);
beetle-shaped like Little Woodbury (Bersu 1940) or Gussage
All Saints (Fig. 12.2); or round or oval with a simple gap
without the entrance ditches, like Old Down Farm, Andover
(Fig. 12.3, Davies 1981). The reasons for these differences
are unknown. The entrance ditches in the first two groups
are interpreted as a means of channelling livestock towards
the entrance.
At the end of the Middle Iron Age (around 100 BC) these
single enclosures are fragmented into several enclosures of
varying size and depth of ditch. In the case of Owslebury
several ditched trackways lead into the settlement instead
of the one which existed previously, and there is no trace of
monumentality at the entrance (Collis 1977b, 1996). There
are several possible interpretations:
• An increase in population, necessitating more
enclosures;
• A change in the activities of the internal organisation of
the farmyard;
• A change in the social structure from one which is more
community based (i.e. the ditch encloses the whole
community) to one in which there is social differentiation
within the settlements.
The Late Iron Age is certainly associated with increasing
evidence of social differentiation, in the burial rite, in
the deposition of gold objects (especially coins and torcs
– one hoard has been found within a few kilometres of
the Owslebury site), and the appearance of imported
Mediterranean goods (amphorae and metal vessels), and
there may also be a shift from intensive to extensive cereal
production. Enclosure continues until the end of the Roman
period, but its importance varies from site to site; some
sites have single enclosures, others continue with multiple
enclosures. The sites are universally abandoned by the late
4th or 5th centuries AD.
159
The ditched trackways linked the settlements with areas
of open pasture, and generally seem to have run between
enclosed ‘Celtic’ fields. These were the areas cultivated
for cereal production, and some have produced evidence
for plough marks. It is assumed that they were enclosed
by hurdles, or even hedges, but on the chalklands there is
no indisputable evidence for this, indeed, studies of snails
at Owslebury suggest there were no hedges. There are no
obvious areas for orchards or gardens, though the fill in one
of the Late Roman enclosures at Owslebury was noted for
its black organic-rich soil, and had contemporary cess-pits
within it which could have been used to collect dung for
intensive horticultural use.
This then is the traditional interpretation of the Wessex
landscape in the Iron Age, something comparable with
that of the medieval period: small farms and hamlets with
enclosure for livestock and habitation surrounded by arable
fields, lying in an open landscape of pasture for the livestock.
I will now consider Ávila before returning to query some of
these assumptions.
Ávila and the Ambles valley
The Ambles valley lies to the west of the city of Ávila in
central Spain, 100 km west of Madrid. To the south and
north it is bounded by ranges of granite hills. It is a highland
area; the valley itself lies at 1100m above sea level, and is
characterised by hot dry summers and cold snowy winters.
Nowadays the area is best known for its animal products
(sheep, cattle and especially pig), though the plain itself is
largely agricultural, especially producing wheat, but now
irrigation is allowing crops such as strawberries. However,
even in the valley there are drier hills which are only suitable
for pasture, often with a scatter of oak trees, though some
areas in the granite hills have extensive areas of terraced
fields and evidence up to fairly recently of ploughing
showing that agriculture was not confined to the valley. The
area is crossed by the Cañada Soriana Occidental, one of
the official droveways set up by the mesta, the organisation
of wealthy landowners which supervised the transhumance
between northern and southern Spain; the one that crosses
the Ambles Valley ran for over 700 km between Adehuela
de Catalañazor near Soria in the north, and Olivenza near
Badajoz in the south.
At the beginning of the 20th century the majority of the land
was in the hands of a small number of landowners. Compared
with many other areas of Europe, the peasant farmers were
quite poor, with the population nucleated in small villages
of one-storey houses with limited architectural pretensions
(Colour plate 8). The villages generally lie around natural
water sources, mainly springs, as even the main river, the
Adaja, which flows west-east through the valley often has
little or no water in it during the summer months.
Under the ‘traditional’ system, enclosure of land was
minimal, with at most boundaries marked by standing stones,
occasionally inscribed, but, especially in the highland areas,
usually a rough-hewn pillar. Otherwise enclosure was
mainly of two kinds:
1. For the intensive cultivation of gardens for vegetables
(beans, potatoes, onions, etc), or for fruit trees (apples,
pears, peaches, etc.). As these relied on the availability
of water, they were often concentrated around the village
itself (Colour plate 9), but some of these enclosed gardens
Enclosing the Past
can be 3–4 km or more from the village if the right
conditions exist. Such plots are usually highly visible in
the landscape as they also include mature trees (especially
poplars) to increase shade and protection. Some gardens
relied on water from small irrigation channels directed
to them. Many are still in use, especially for vegetables,
though fruit growing is in decline, and many of the trees
are dead or dying.
2. Rather larger enclosures sometimes, but not always,
with a water supply. These too are often close to the
village, but may be on isolated hill-sides. They may
be rectangular or oval, and surrounded by a relatively
substantial stone wall; most are now in a poor state of
repair. They seem to have been for penning livestock,
especially overnight.
Otherwise enclosure was minimal, and for special
functions (cemeteries outside villages are invariably
walled). A small number of the wealthier landowners wall
their properties, but much of this seems fairly recent. In the
hilly areas fields are usually marked by terraces, sometimes
quite substantial, up to 2–3m on steep hill-slopes (Colour
plate 10), but some fields are enclosed by walls of low
boulders which would certainly not have been an effective
barrier for livestock. In the valley some fields are ditched
(Colour plate 11), especially where they adjoin tracks, and
seem mainly to be for drainage (though in some cases this
hardly seems necessary, especially in the summer months);
in most cases they can easily be crossed by livestock.
Wild animals are relatively rare; we have seen the
occasional wild boar, but even rabbits are not very common,
perhaps because of the intensive hunting. Under such an
open-landscape regime, the livestock has to be carefully
herded, and each village has its complement of shepherds
and cowherds who take the animals out each morning. After
the crops have been harvested, they are given the free-run
of the fields, which obviously helps with the manuring. A
possibly recent feature are transportable metal fences for
enclosing the sheep at night, and these are moved every few
days, partly to give fresh food (though there is little) but
especially to spread the effects of intensive manuring. Most
farms, especially in the highlands, have barns for over-
wintering the animals, and for the cattle overnight as well.
Presumably the same was true for the pigs, but these are
now intensively reared in barns, and are never seen except
on their way to the abattoir. However, for someone such
as myself raised in an enclosed landscape, it is surprising
sometimes to see vegetable gardens which are completely
unenclosed, with no apparent protection from wild animals
(though the walls around the enclosed ones would certainly
not keep deer out). Also, just after harvest, some of the
threshed grain is just heaped outside the villages with no
attempt to keep birds away (Colour plate 12).
In the 1970s there was a major shift in the system of land
tenure. This did not affect the larger blocks of pasture, the
estates and ranches (fincas and dehesas), but mainly the
agricultural land and some of the areas of public grazing
especially in the valley were divided up and handed out to
individual farmers. The boundaries of each field are often
merely marked by stone heaps or small stele, more often
with small concrete posts. In the last forty years individual
owners have started to enclose their land, not only the
major landowners, but also many of the traditional peasant
farmers. The favourite method for the larger areas is with
metal, wooden or stone posts with barbed wire strung
160
between them, but for some of the smaller areas chain-link
fences, or even walls built of breezeblocks.
The reasons for enclosure are varied, but generally not
associated with agriculture; even the strawberry fields are
not enclosed. Some fields are being fenced for permanent
pasturing of cattle or horses, with a piped water supply,
but this is still the exception. There are also enclosures
for industrial and sports activities, but the majority are for
private gardens, often with a small building used during
the day for domestic activities. On an increasing scale,
more permanent houses are being built, some even with
swimming pools. There is thus the beginning of a dispersal
from the nucleated settlement pattern, though the majority
prefer to build their new houses either in the village, or
on its fringe where it is possible to have a garden. The
traditional houses are gradually falling into disuse and being
demolished. Houses now tend to be of two or three storeys,
with balconies where one can sit in the summer evenings.
Obviously the increasing affluence is one major factor, but
technologically, perhaps the availability of piped water, is
the decisive factor.
The whole development is very piecemeal, with the
new enclosures usually isolated from one another. An
interesting phenomenon, found in other areas of Spain, is
the ostentatious nature of the façades and gateways (Colour
plates 13, 14). This is not part of the local tradition, at least
in the countryside, and the one-storey traditional house
has no elements of external display, except in some cases
the chimney which may have decoration on its plaster,
accompanied by the date of construction. The façade is
often the first element to be built, with a wall of stone or
brick, perhaps surmounted by an elaborate iron fence, and
fine ironwork gates. This is not a tradition taken over from
the wealthier landowners (Colour plate 15); though the
richer estates may have fancy gateways, they themselves are
also a recent development, and are usually less elaborate
and more functional than those on the smaller properties.
Though locally the nouveaux riches participate in the more
universal western European status symbol of the four-by-
four parked in front of the house, these elaborate façades
seem to be a special Spanish phenomenon, indeed, perhaps
even Castilian, as it is not so obvious, for instance, in the
Catalan areas.
What I have labelled here the ‘traditional’ system
presumably has its origins in the medieval period, after the
territory was taken back from the Moors (Barrios García
2000). For earlier periods there seems to be little tradition
for enclosure, as there are no field systems or settlement
enclosures for the Iron Age and Roman periods, except
perhaps for some villas. In these periods enclosure is confined
to the major settlements, the Roman town of Obila, and the
Iron Age oppida and hill-forts of Ulaca, Las Cogotas, La
Mesa de Miranda and Sanchorreja (Álvarez Sanchís 1999;
Mariné 1995; Sánchez Moreno 2000). Though elements of
these sites are clearly defensive (elaborate towers, chevaux
de frise), this is not the only factor. This is most clear at
Ulaca, where the official panels on the site explain the
small scale of the stone wall on the side facing away from
the valley as being unfinished when the inhabitants were
forced to leave by the Romans (in places it is only one or
two courses high). However, this does not fit the evidence,
as the ‘unfinished’ sections belong to the first period of the
site, and a second enclosure was added later to the east (not
recognised in most of the published plans). This suggests
 Collis: Enclosure in Iron Age Wessex viewed from modern Ávila
that the enclosure here (though protected by steep slopes)
was more symbolic than functional.
Reflections
It is interesting to note that, in the two very different
cases we have looked at, there are certain similarities and
peculiarities like the piecemeal process by which enclosure
expands across the landscape, and especially the very
prominent role which is given to display in the façades and
entranceways to the settlements. But in the case of Middle
Iron Age Hampshire it seems to be the whole community
which parades its status, whereas in Spain it is the individual,
and then not someone of high social or economic status.
Indeed, one of the major points I wish to make in this paper
is that we can encounter superficially similar phenomena
which may have very different ‘meanings’ and occur in
very different sorts of society. Thus, to repeat a point made
earlier, in late medieval and post-medieval Britain enclosure
is apparently associated with the appropriation of formerly
communally held land by rich individuals. In Ávila, in
contrast, it is associated with a democratisation of private
ownership by relatively poor individuals, and that initiated
by a fascist right-wing government.
Another example of parallel change under differing social,
economic and political conditions has been the process of
increasing field sizes by the amalgamation of field plots,
in Britain, at least, including the removal of often ancient
hedgerows. In part this is due to technological change, with
the increasing shift from the 1930s onwards from animal
powered traction (horses and oxen) over to larger mechanised
equipment such as combine harvesters. In Britain the farms
were generally sufficiently large and the farmers sufficiently
prosperous for this to happen early (in the 1930s), within
the context of a competitive marketing system. Inheritance
laws (generally inheritance through male primogeniture)
enabled large farms to remain intact.
In contrast, in much of France the peasant regime had
remained largely intact, but with increasing fragmentation
of ownership, as under Napoleonic laws land had to
be shared between the descendants, so field plots were
becoming increasingly smaller and less and less viable,
preventing the physical use of large mechanised equipment
even if the increasingly impoverished peasants could afford
to invest in it. The only solution was for state intervention
to redistribute land by agreement among the owners and
the farmers, to allow consolidated fields to be formed and
exploited by an individual farmer using modern techniques:
the remembrement which was carried out in the 1950s
and 1960s, like Britain, in an increasingly competitive
market economy, but with much greater centralised state
involvement. Central and eastern Europe represents a
third case where, under the post-war communist regimes,
collectivisation of farms was enforced, again allowing the
shift to industrialised farming and mechanisation. Can we,
as archaeologists, differentiate between these three very
different scenarios, or does their impact on the landscape
and environment look identical?
Returning to the Wessex landscape, it is clear that our
‘enclosed’ mentalities may be leading us to misinterpret
the late Prehistoric and Roman landscapes. Cunliffe, for
instance, has postulated that the linear ditches around
Danebury must have supported hedgerows to turn them into
161
more effective barriers to livestock, though he presents no
evidence for this (Cunliffe and Poole 2000:91). Certainly
at Owslebury the studies of the snail faunas in some of
the linear ditches (especially ditches flanking trackways)
showed slightly damp environments such as one might
expect in a ditch, but otherwise an open landscape with
little hint of the sorts of species one would associate with a
hedge. This implies that, though the ditches might be used
to guide the livestock (and humans) along the track, they
were not intended to provide a physical constraint, indeed
when the crops had been harvested, stock-proof boundaries
would have been a positive hindrance to the free movement
of flocks of sheep or herds of cows across the landscape.
Control would have been maintained, as in the case of Ávila,
by shepherds and cowherds accompanied by their dogs.
This then raises questions about the actual function of
‘Celtic fields’. We usually assume that these defined the
areas of arable, and if there are no visible fields, then we
are dealing with areas of pasture. However, at some sites
like Owslebury there are no obvious Celtic fields surviving
even though some of the settlement enclosures survived as
earthworks up to quite recently, yet we have grain storage
pits on the settlement. The assumption is that either
banjo enclosures such as Owslebury were primarily used
for livestock, or the fields have been destroyed by later
agricultural activity (unlikely in the case of Owslebury).
So, could it be that the main agricultural activity, the more
extensive ploughed fields, have left little archaeological
trace, and that, at least in the Iron Age, the Celtic fields
were places where some more specialised and intensive
cultivation was going on? We need to look a little more
closely at the environment of some of our settlements, and
also experiment more with the quantification of our data
(e.g. if storage pits are primarily for seed grain, this gives
us some hint on the minimum area under cultivation). We
also need to compare regions. In central Hampshire, for
instance, Celtic field systems and linear boundaries seem
relatively rare in comparison to, say, northern Hampshire
and Wiltshire, due generally, it is assumed, to the later history
of land use in the medieval and post-medieval periods, but
perhaps we simply have different systems of land use in
different areas of Wessex in the Bronze and Iron Ages.
Finally we have the question of the function of the clusters
of enclosures that form the nucleus of many Late Iron Age
and Roman farming settlements in parts of Wessex. Some
are certainly to define areas of domestic activity (houses,
barns, granaries, etc.) but the case of Ávila warns us that
some activities we have always assumed took place here,
such as threshing and winnowing of cereals, could easily
have taken place outside the settlements. We have also, the
case of Owslebury, the Late Roman enclosure with evidence
of ‘black earth’ in the ditch fillings. The same enclosure
contains three cess pits, two quite substantial, which are a
complete anomaly in a rural context; cess pits are associated
with dense occupation, especially urban contexts, for reasons
of health, and such apparent concerns with hygiene is totally
unexpected on a rural settlement which, by late Roman times,
was a low status site with none of the luxuries associated
with contemporary villa sites, such as stone buildings, baths,
mosaic pavements, etc. Either part of the population was
not free to roam (e.g. slaves) and the burial evidence does
hint at a very divided social set-up with cremation burials
with pots even as late as the 4th century AD, contrasting with
inhumations with no grave goods, often buried in ditches
Enclosing the Past
and, at most, with a wooden coffin (Collis 1977b); or the
human organic waste was being collected for intensive
manuring. Some of these enclosures could, therefore, be
comparable with the intensively cultivated plots we find in
and around the Ambles valley in Spain.
Iron Age and Roman Wessex is one of the most
intensively investigated areas in Europe, yet because
of our preconceptions, perhaps our interpretations are
fundamentally flawed, and we need to have a major re-think.
Equally, there seems to be enormous potential in study the
present changes around Ávila in terms of the impact on the
landscape, rather than simply collecting old agricultural
implements such as the trillos.
Bibliography
Álvarez Sanchís, J.R. 1999. Los Vettones. Biblioteca Archaeologica
Hispana 1. Madrid.
Aston, M. and Lewis, C. (eds.) 1994. The Medieval Landscape of
Wessex. Oxbow Monograph 46. Oxford: Oxbow.
Barrios García, Á. 2000. Historia de Ávila II. Edad Media (siglos
VIII–XIII). Ávila: Institución ‘Gran Duque de Alba’ de la
Exma. Diputación de Ávila.
Bersu, G. 1940. Excavations at Little Woodbury, Wiltshire. Part
I: the settlement revealed by excavation. Proceedings of the
Prehistoric Society 29:206–213.
Biddle, M. 1973. Winchester: the development of an early capital.
In H. Jankuhn, W. Schlesinger and H. Steuer (eds.) Vor- und
Frühformen der europäischen Stadt im Mittelalter. Symposium
Reinhausen 18.-24. April 1972. Abhandlungen der Akademie
der Wissenschaften in Göttingen. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3. Folge, Nr.
83, pp. 229-261. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.
Champion, T.C. and Collis, J.R. (eds.) 1993. The Iron Age in
Britain and Ireland: recent trends. Sheffield: J.R. Collis
Publications.
Collis, J.R. 1977a. An approach to the Iron Age. In J.R. Collis
(ed.) The Iron Age in Britain: a review, pp. 1-7. Sheffield: Dept
of Prehistory and Archaeology.
Collis, J.R. 1977b. Owslebury, Hants, and the problem of burials
on rural settlements. In R. Reece, Burial in the Roman World,
pp.26-34. CBA Research Report 22. London.
Collis, J.R. 1981. A theoretical study of hill-forts. In G. Guilbert
(ed.) Hill-fort Studies: papers presented to A. H. A. Hogg, pp.
66-76. Leicester: University Press.
Collis, J.R. 1993. Structures d’habitat et enceintes de l’Age du
Fer. In A. Daubigney (ed.) Fonctionnement Social de l’Age du
Fer. Opérateurs et hypothèses pour la France. Table Ronde
Internationale de Lons-le-Saunier (Jura) 24-26 octobre 1990,
pp. 231-238. Lons-Le-Saunier.
Collis, J.R.1996. Hill-forts, enclosures and boundaries. In T.C.
Champion and J.R. Collis (ed.) The Iron Age in Britain and
162
Ireland, pp 87-94. Sheffield: J.R. Collis Publications.
Collis, J.R. 2001. Society and Settlement in Iron Age Europe;
L’Habitat et l’Occupation du Sol en Europe. Actes du XVIIIe
Colloque de l’AFEAF, Winchester - Avril 1994. Sheffield: J.R.
Collis Publications.
Collis, J.R. 2002. Danebury, its environs and the Iron Age in
Hampshire. Landscape Archaeology 2002:91–94.
Cunliffe, B.W. 1983. Danebury: anatomy of a hillfort. London:
Batsford.
Cunliffe, B.W. 1991. Iron Age Communities in Britain. An account
of England, Scotland and Wales from the 7th century BC until
the Roman conquest. Third edition. London, New York,
Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Cunliffe, B. 2000. The Danebury Environs Programme: the
Prehistory of a Wessex landscape. Volume 1: Introduction.
English Heritage and Oxford University Committee
for Archaeology, Monograph 48. Oxford: Institute of
Archaeology.
Cunliffe, B.W. and Poole, C. 2000. The Danebury Environs
Programme: the Prehistory of a Wessex landscape. Volume
2-4: New Buildings, Longstock, Hants 1992 and Fiveways
Longstock, Hants, 1996. English Heritage and Oxford
University Committee for Archaeology, Monograph 49.
Oxford: Institute of Archaeology.
Davies, S.M. 1981. Excavations at Old Down Farm, Andover.
Part II: Prehistoric and Roman. Proceedings of the Hampshire
Field Club 37:81–164.
Deberge, Y. and Guichard, V. 2000. Nouvelles recherches sur
les travaux césariens devant Gergovie (1995–1999). Revue
Archéologique du Centre de la France 39:83–111.
Dent, J.M. 1982. Cemeteries and settlement patterns of the Iron
Age on the Yorkshire Wolds. Proceedings of the Prehistoric
Society 48:437–458.
Hill, J.D. 1993. Danebury and the hillforts of Iron Age Wessex. In
Champion and Collis 1993:95-116.
McOmish, D. 2001. Aspects of prehistoric settlement in western
Wessex. In Collis 2001:73–81.
Mariné, M. 1995. Historia de Ávila I. Prehistoria e historia
antigua. Ávila: Institución ‘Gran Duque de Alba’ de la Exma.
Diputación de Ávila.
Perry, B.T. 1982. Excavations at Bramdean, Hampshire, 1973 to
1977. Proceedings of the Hampshire Field Club 38:57–74.
Sánchez Moreno, E. 2000. Vetones: historia y arqueología de
un pueblo prerromano. Collección de Estudios 64. Madrid:
Ediciones de la Universidad Autónoma.
Sharples, N. 1991. Maiden Castle. London: English Heritage/
Batsford.
Wainwright, G.J. 1979. Gussage All Saints: an Iron Age settlement
in Dorset. Department of the Environment Archaeological
Reports No. 10. London.
Wheeler, R.E.M. 1943. Maiden Castle, Dorset. Reports of the
Research Committee of the Society of Antiquaries of London,
no. 12. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
 Index
Abingdon, Oxfordshire 74 Brennus 152
Acy-Romance 127 Briar Hill, Northamptonshire 69, 70, 74
Aiterhofen 144 Brno-Líšeň 63
Alcalar 89−90, 93 Brno-Nový Lískovec 44, 47
Aldwincle 118 Brodzany-Nitra 50
Alekšince 60 Bronocice 57
Alesia 155 Bučany, Slovakia 52, 55, 59, 62
Alpiarça 87 bucranium 26
Altheim 51 Bulhary 53, 55, 62−3
Altheim-Heiligkreuztal 136, 148 Bussy-le-Long 149
Altheim culture 50, 64 Bylany, Bohemia 11, 16, 57, 59, 62
Altranstädt 64
amber 112 Cadbury Castle, Somerset 121
Ambrona, Miño de Medinaceli 76, 93 Čakovice 11
Apony 55 Cañada Soriana Occidental 159
Arnstorf 148 Carn Brea, Cornwall 69, 72, 74, 100
Asparn-Schletz 45, 47−8 Căscioarele 21, 22, 25−7, 41
Aszòd 55, 107 castellieri 107
aurochs 32 Castelo Velho de Freixo de Numão 90
Ávila 155, 159, 161−2 causewayed camp 2, 10, 69− 71, 78−9, 100
Ceíde 20
Baden culture 63 Celtic fields 155, 159, 161
Bajč-Vlkanovo, Slovakia 63, 51 centaur 23
Balbridie 20 Cernavoda 38
Balfarg, Fife 100 Černá Hora 44
Ballinderry, Co. Offaly) 103 Cerro de El Albalate 91
banjo-enclosures 159 Cerro de los Alcores 91
Barca 105, 113 Český raj 110
Beaker period 101 Cham Culture 50, 64
Bearwood, Dorset) 121 Chleby, Nymburk 10, 51, 64
Beaurieux-Les Grèves 147 Cífer 52, 55, 57, 59
Beckford, Hereford and Worcester 121 Cimbri, see Kimbern
Becsehely 45, 55 Clonfinlough 103, 105
Běhařovice, Moravia 52−3, 57 co-axial’ field systems 155
Bell Beaker 64, 87, 89, 93, 100, 101 Collfryn 118
Benátky nad Jizerou 10, 57 Columbeira, Bombarral 90
Berching-Pollanten 147 Conchil-le-Temple 114
Berlin Wall 97 Corded Ware Culture 4
Bernburg/Walternienburg culture 8 Cranborne Chase 70, 72−4, 101
Berry-au-Bac 147–8 crannóg 102, 106−7
Bibracte 126−7, 129, 131 Crickley Hill, Gloucestershire 69, 71–4, 100
Billingborough, Lincolnshire 123 Csőszhalom 21, 22, 29−33, 41
Birdlip Camp 72 Cucuteni 21–2, 26
Biskupin 97, 107, 113 currency bars 119–120, 122–3
Blackheath, Todmorden, West Yorkshire 101
Blackshouse Burn, Lanarkshire 99−100 Dacian calendar 59, 62, 64
Black Patch 102 Danby Rigg, North Yorkshire 101
Blaufelden 135, 136 Dan y Coed 118
Blewburton (Oxfordshire) 121 Danebury 116, 118, 121, 161
Blučina, district Brno-venkov 8 Darion 44, 47
Bochum-Harpen 50, 55 Dartmoor 102, 104, 116
Bochum-Laer 50, 64 dehesa 160
Bodmin Moor, Cornwall 116 Delphi 152
Bodrogkeresztúr Culture 50, 63 Derenburg 8
Bogenberg, Straubing 107 Děvín 60
Bohemian Paradise 110 Ditches, Gloucestershire 121, 122
Boian Culture 25 Divostin 21
Boitsfort 7 Dniestr flint 33
Bonn-Venusberg 50 Dolné Trhovište 60
Bopfingen 135−6, 147–8 Dolní Beřkovice 57
Borduşani 26 Dolní Břežany 149
Bořitov 44 Dolní Němčí 55
Božice, Moravia 64 Dolnoslav 38
Bramdean 159 Donnersberg 129, 132
Branč 50 Dorset Cursus 74
Bredon Hill, Hereford and Worcester 121 Down Farm, Cranborne Chase 102
Breiddin 105 Dresden-Nickern 57

163
Droužkovice 144 Hayling Island, Hampshire 122
Druids 149 Heidetränk 129
Druids’ Circle, Penmaenmawr 101, 102 Heilbronn-Hetzenberg 7
Dünsberg 128 Heilbronn-Ilsfeld 7
Durankulak 21–2, 25, 27–9, 41 Heilbronn-Klingenberg 14
Helman Tor, Cornwall 72, 74, 100
Eching-Vieht 64 Hembury, Devon 70–1, 74
Ehningen 136, 144, 147–8 henge 11, 21, 57, 59, 62–3, 100–1, 105
Eilsleben 44, 48 Herpály 32
Einsiedel-Rübgarten 137–8 Heuneburg 126, 131
Eitzum 44 Hienheim, Bavaria 51
Erkelenz-Kückhoven 44, 47 Hinchinbroke Park Farm, Cambridgeshire 119, 121–2
Esslingen-Oberesslingen 147–8 Hluboké Mašůvky 49, 50, 57, 60
Etton, Cambridgeshire 73–4 Hod Hill, Dorset 121
Ewart Park 105 Holohlavy 11, 57, 60
Eythra 55 Holzhausen 135–6, 146–8
Eythra-Zwenkau 55, 57, 62 Homolka near Slaný 105
Hopferstad-Ochsenfurt 55
faience 112 Horní Metelsko in West Bohemia 11
Falkenstein-‘Schanzboden’ 49, 53 Hornsburg 52, 55, 60
Federsee 107 Hrazany 126, 141
Fellbach-Schmiden 135 Hrdly, district Litoměřice 10
figurine 23, 25, 50 Hrušovany nad Jevišovkou 8
fincas 160 Hunsbury, Northants 121
Fisher Road, Port Seaton, East Lothian 124 Hurst Fen, Suffolk 74
Forschner, Federsee 107, 110
Frauenhofen, Horn 47–50, 55 Iclod 21, 32, 51, 55
Freckleben 8 Immendorf 55
Fresnes-sur-Marne 148 Inden 50, 58, 60
Friebritz 55, 57, 59, 60 Iskritsa 22, 33–5, 38
Fuente de la Mora, Leganés 94 Iwno Culture 107
Funnel Beaker Culture (see also TRB) 5, 10
Füzesabony 63 Jánoshida-Portelek 55, 64
Jászdózsa-Kápolnahalom 107
Galgenberg 51, 64 Jaux 147–8
Gardom’s Edge, Derbyshire 98, 100 Jenštejn, Prague-East 16
Gaudendorf 57 Jevišovice 64
Gemering 55 Jülich-Welldorf 49, 50
Gergovia 155
glass 112 Kamegg 55, 57
Glastonbury Somerset 121 Karanovo IV 35–6
Glaubendorf 59 Karanovo V 35–7
Gneiding-Oberpöring 60 Karanovo VI 25, 36–8
Golianovo 52, 59 Kelheim 129, 131
Goljamo Delchevo 21 Kimbern 132, 137
Goljemiya Ostrov 25, 27 Kingsdown, Somerset 121–2
Gollma 8 Kitzen 64
Gorzsa 21, 29 Klačany 52
Goseck 55, 57, 60 Kly, Mělník 5–6, 12–4, 16–8
Gournay 145 Knocknalappa 103, 106
Gózquez de Arriba, San Martín de la Vega 94 Knovíz Culture 11
Gradac 21, 25 Köln-Lindenthal 47
Gradac-Zlokućane 22, 24 Komjatice 64
Gradac-Zlokućani 21–5, Kostice 64
Gretton, Northamptonshire 123 Kothingeichendorf 50, 53, 55, 59
Grimspound, Dartmoor 102 Kraków flint 33
Grossburgstall 63 Krašovice 147
Grossgartach Culture 50 kręgi 64
Gubakút 31 Křepice 53, 57
Gumelniţa 22, 26, 27, 41 Krisigk 8
Gussage All Saints 159 Krpy 9, 11, 57
Künzing-Unternberg 50, 55, 57, 59, 62
Haddenham, Cambridgeshire 73–5, 74 Kyhna 55, 57
Hallstatt period 10, 64
Hamangia 27 Langweiler 44, 47, 48, 50, 59
Hambledon Hill, Dorset, England 69–75, 100 Las Cogotas 160
Ham Hill, Somerset 121 Las Matillas, Alcalá de Henares 94
Hardwick 118 Lausitz Culture 113
Hasting Hill, Tyne & Wear 100 La Mesa de Miranda 160
Hayhope Knowe 118 La Pijotilla 94

164
La Revilla del Campo, Ambrona 93 Neutz-Lettewitz 64
La Tène period 140 Nitrianský Hrádok 52, 55, 62, 105, 107–8
LBK 9, 44, 45, 47, 48, 55 Nordheim 135
Leceia (Oeiras) 90 North Mains, Strathallan, Perthshire 101
Ledce, Moravia 51, 64
Lengyel Culture 1, 21, 45, 48–50, 59, 61–64 Oberesslingen 138, 139
Levroux 151 Oberlauterbach Culture 55, 57
Lhánice 64 Obrovci 21
Lich-Steinstrass 50 Ochsenberg at Wartau, canton St. Gallen 107
Linear ditches 64, 65, 161 Oderbruch 57
Linzing-Osterhofen 51, 64 Offham, Sussex 73–4
Little Woodbury 159 Old Down Farm, Andover 121, 158–9
Loanhead of Daviot 101 Oleksovice 64
Lochenice 9, 11, 55, 57, 59 Ölkam 55
Lochenice-Unternberg 50 Opolany, district Nymburk 10
Lofts Farm, Essex 102–3 oppidum 2, 126, 128–9, 131–3, 138, 141, 148, 152
Los Millares 77, 91 Orsett, Essex 69, 73, 74
Luant 131, 148 Ostrovul Corbului 25
Lubelsko-Wolynia Culture 57 Ovcharitsa 21
Ludanice 50 Ovcharovo 21
Owslebury, Hampshire 159, 161
Madmarston, Oxfordshire 121, 123
Maiden Castle, Dorset 70, 71–4, 121, 116, 156 Painted Pottery Culture, see Moravian Painted Pottery
Makotřasy 51, 64 Palmela 87
Mam Tor, Derbyshire 103 Papa Uvas 94
Manching 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 147–8 Park Farm, Warwickshire 119, 121
Marden 63 Pasohlávky 64
Maritsa Iztok 35, 38 Passau-Hartkirchen 135
Marroquíes Bajos, Jaén 91 Paule 144, 147, 151
Martberg 126, 127 Pavlov 49, 50
Mašovice 57 Penard phase 103, 105
Mataci, in Dalmatia 38 Perdigões, in the Portuguese Alentejo 93
Mayen 7, 50–1 Pfaffenhofen-Beuren 136
Mecsek 55 pillar shrine 26
Meisternthal 50 pit alignment 64, 120
Meisternthal-Landau 60 Planig-Friedberg 55
Mengen-Ennetach 135 Platkow 57
Měnín, district Brno-venkov 8 Plattling-Pankofen 135, 149
Meon Hill, Warwickshire 121 Plotištĕ nad Labem 49, 50
Merdzumekja 22, 35, 38 plough-share 122
mesta 159 Polgar-Bosnyak domb 29
Meunet-Planches 131, 148 Polgár-Csőszhalom 21, 32, 53, 55, 59
Michelsberg/Untergrombach 7 Poljanitsa 21
Michelsberg Culture 5, 6, 8, 13, 50, 60, 64 Pottenbrunn 50
Midsummer Hill, Hereford & Worcester 121 Prague-Vinoř 57
Miel 7, 50, 60 Přítluky 64
Mödling-Zöbing-Jevišovice Culture 63 Puch 55, 60
MOG see Moravian/Austrian Group Puch-Kleedorf 57
Monkodonja, Istria 107, 111 Pulkau 45
Monta da Tumba, Torrão 90
Montes Claros 87 Quappendorf 57
Monte da Ponte, Évora 90 Quenstedt 55, 57–60
Montmartin/Oise 148 Quimper-LeBraden 148
Mont Beuvray 132
Moravian/Austrian Group (MOG) 50, 57, 59, 63 Raddon Hill, Devon 72
Moravian Painted Pottery (MPP) 48, 50, 53, 55, 57, 59, 63–4 Radíčeves, Louny 10
Most 11 Rájec-Jestřebí 44
Mount Pleasant 63 Rakovice 148
MPP, see Moravian Painted Pottery Ramsdorf-Wallerfing 60
Mšecké Žehrovice 143–4, 146–9, 152 Rams Hill, Berkshire 103
Mucking, Essex 102, 104 Rašovice 52–3, 57, 62
Mühlbach am Mannhartsberg 57 remembrement 161
Münchshöfen Culture 64 Rider’s Rings, Dartmoor 102, 104
Munzingen 7 Riedlingen 135, 136
Murr, Munich 64 Řípec, Trpoměchy 64
murus gallicus 131, 148 Řivnač Culture 105
rondel 5, 9, 16, 21, 44–5, 50, 52, 55–64, 105
Nadbury, Warwickshire 121, 123 Roquepertuse 151
Němčičky 52–3 Rosenburg 52, 55, 57, 60
Němětice 142 Rössen Culture 50, 55, 60

165
Ružindol-Borová 55, 57, 60, 63
Uherský Brod 55
Salmonsbury, Gloucestershire 121 Uivar 21, 29
Samborzec-Opatów 32 Ulaca 160
Sanchorreja 160 Uleybury, Gloucestershire 121
Santa Justa 89, 90 Uničov 44, 47
Santa Vitória at Campo Maior 93 Unternberg 59
São Brás, Serpa 90 Urmitz 6, 8, 14, 50–1, 60
Šárka 48
Sarmizegethusa Regia 64 Vaihingen 48
SBK, see Stichbandkeramik Valač 21, 23, 25
Schletz 60 Valač-Krš 22
Schmiedorf 50, 55, 64 Valencina de la Concepción 93, 94
Schmiedorf-Osterhofen 60 Variscourt / Condé-sur-Suippe 12–7, 130
Sé 47, 55 Varna 27
Seloutky 50, 55, 57, 63 Vedrovice 44–5, 47–8, 52–3, 55, 57, 59, 62
Serris-Les Rouelles 148 Vel’ký Cetín 57, 60
Shaugh Moor, Dartmoor 102 Velatice 57
Silbury Hill 21 Velim 97, 107–8, 110, 112–3
Skupice, Louny 10 Velíš 57
Slavhostice 57 Vieht 55
Spettisbury, Dorset 121 Viereckschanze 10, 64, 127, 131, 135–6, 138, 144–150
Spišský Štvrtok 105, 109, 113 Vila Nova de S. Pedro 77, 89, 90
Springfield Lyons 102 villas 152
Staines, Surrey 73–4 Villeneuve-St-Germain 126, 127, 129
Stansted 118 Vinča 23, 25, 32
Stanway, Essex 119, 121–2 Vinča-Belo Brdo 23
Staré Hradisko 126, 129 Vinitsa 22, 25, 29
Steinabrunn 60 Vitiněves 57
Stichbandkeramik 32, 48, 50, 57, 62 Vlčnov 55
Stillfried-Auhagen 50 Vochov 11, 55, 57
Stillfried-Ziegelei 50 Vokány 55
Štítary-Hostětice 144 Vrbně, Mělník 10
Stonehenge 32, 63, 101 Vrbno, Mělník 16, 18
Stone of Scone 27
Stradonice 129, 133 Wakerley 118
Straškov 10, 57 Walesland Rath 118
Straubing-Lenchenhaid 47 Weinsteig-Großrußbach 45
Strögen 52, 55, 60 West Brandon 118
Strögen, Lower Austria 52 Wetzdorf 55
stroke-ornamented pottery, see Stichbandkeramik Wetzleinsdorf 49, 50, 60
Šumice 64 Whitesheet Hill, Wiltshire 70, 72–3
Svodín 52, 55, 57, 59, 62, 105, 107 Wiesbaden-Schierstein 7
Szarvas 22 Wilburton 105
Winchester 155
Taunton metalwork 103 Windmill Hill, Wiltshire 69–70, 72–4
Tell Merdzumekja 35, 36 Winklebury, Hampshire 121
Těšetice-Kyjovice 9, 52–3, 55, 57, 59, 60, 62–3, 105 Winnal Down, Hampshire 124, 144
Teutonen 132, 137 Winster, Derbyshire 122
Thalheim 48 Worthy Down, Hampshire 119, 121
throned figurines 23
Tiszalúc-Sarkad 50 Yvignac 151
Tiszapolgár Culture 55
Tisza incised ware 32 Zadubravlje 21
Titelberg 126 Zadubravlje-Dužine 21
Tizsaluc-Sarkad 51 Zambujal 76–94
Tomerdingen 135 Zangentor 127
tortoise shells 37 Závist 126, 129, 131, 141, 146–7
TRB (Trichterbecherkultur) 5, 50, 64 Želiezovce 45, 48
trillos 162 Želízy, Mělník 10
Tripolye 22 Žitavce 53, 55, 57, 59
Troskotovice 62–4 Žlkovce 57–9, 61–3
Trpoměchy, distr. Kladno 10–11 Zlokućane 21
Truşeşti 21 Zuchering 147
Tuchlovice 147
Tuchoraz 57

166