Bronze Age Warfare: Manufacture and Use of Weaponry

Bronze Age Warfare:

Manufacture and Use of Weaponry

Edited by

Marion Uckelmann Marianne Mödlinger

BAR International Series 2255 2011

Published by Archaeopress Publishers of British Archaeological Reports Gordon House 276 Banbury Road Oxford OX2 7ED England [email protected] www.archaeopress.com BAR S2255 Bronze Age Warfare: Manufacture and Use of Weaponry © Archaeopress and the individual authors 2011 ISBN 978 1 4073 0822 7 Printed in England by Blenheim Colour Ltd All BAR titles are available from: Hadrian Books Ltd 122 Banbury Road Oxford OX2 7BP England www.hadrianbooks.co.uk The current BAR catalogue with details of all titles in print, prices and means of payment is available free from Hadrian Books or may be downloaded from www.archaeopress.com

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USE-WEAR ANALYSIS AND USE-PATTERNS OF BRONZE AGE SWORDS

Barry Molloy

ABSTRACT

The study of bronze weaponry is older than the field of archaeology and modern research has inherited both benefits and problems associated with this chronological breadth of research. Bronze weapons occur in relatively similar forms throughout Europe, making them one of the few categories of artefact to receive similar acade-mic treatment on such a wide scale, and in va-rious academic traditions. This paper addresses terminological and methodological complicati-ons that have arisen in no small part due to the natural application of unifying language and functional interpretations that such a broad sca-le of research history has attracted. It is argued that such innocuous things as generic names for sword types or broad statements on spear use have a more profound impact than may be expec-ted in determining research methodologies and results. Some paths towards creating a metho-dological consensus, or complementary strands thereof, are suggested and potential impacts of related changes are considered. A final purpose is to suggest methods to create greater synthesis between use-wear, taxonomic, experimental and archaeometric analyses.

KEYWORDS

Rapier – cut-and-thrust – slashing – stabbing swords – experimental – archaeology

INTRODUCTION

Walking into the National Museums of most countries in Europe, one may be forgiven for thinking the Bronze Age to have been one of the bloodiest epochs of our past. Display cases are la-den with swords, spears, axes, lances, war-horns, shields, armour, helmets and all the fossils of past battles. To the modern archaeologist, this lure of bronze is perhaps better seen as a fossil of our antiquarian forbearers, drawn by mythology to a vision of the nasty, brutish and short nature of prehistoric life (Parker-Pearson 2005; Vandkilde 2006a, 419). As a discipline, we have long-since

moved on from such romantic visions and stri-ve to understand the reality of day-to-day life in prehistory, be it subsistence, ritual or violence re-lated (Bradley 2005). A renewed interest in the study of war that began in anthropology in the early 1980’s and took hold in archaeology by the middle of that decade (see Thorpe 2005; Harding 2007, 15 f.). This rejuvenation of research saved the weapons of our museum display cases from being intellectually resigned to out-moded visions of prehistory and has on the contrary seen many new research projects develop, as exemplified in this present volume. R. Bradley’s call (2005, 145) for archaeologists to move beyond compiling de-tailed records of bronze artefacts and return them to the sphere of social interpretation is increasingly being met through this new work. It is within this context of reconceptualising the study of Bronze Age weapons that this paper redresses some mis-leading factoids and methodological conservatism that has developed over the course of a century of research and offers new directions in deriving so-cial meaning from the material culture of war.

To begin, we may take an expanded chaîne opératoire model that considers the entire life-cycle of weapons in biographical terms (Kopytoff 2000). This should take account of the conception, birth, life, death, burial and archaeological recove-ry of weapons. Through this model, we can explain reasons why weapons were created in the manner and form that they were, how this was done, what happened to them when they were being used by prehistoric persons, why they were removed from circulation, how were they interred, and even-tually, how were they recovered. First, however, a brief characterisation of the ‘intellectual biogra-phy’ of bronze weapon research is required to con-textualise the current state of our knowledge and research practice.

HISTORY OF RESEARCH

The recovery and publication of Bronze Age wea-pons is far older than the discipline of archaeo-logy, with the first records dating back to early antiquarianism (Colquhoun and Burgess 1988, 5 f.) during the Enlightenment, a time when secu-lar man was seeking to make sense of our origins and character. C. J. Thomsen’s division of objects

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new field of archaeology, and studies of bronze weapons grew in numbers and complexity (e.g. Coffey 1894; Naue 1903). In this milieu, W. P. Brewis (1923) stands out as having offered a re-latively unique study that addressed differences in modes of use alongside categorisations used to create an archaeological lingua franca for weapons. By the time weapon studies became the subject of more systematic analysis in cultu-re historical and ‘new archaeology’ frameworks in the 1950’s and 1960’s,1 the basic tools for this research had long been established and ac-cepted. In cold scientific terms, a weapon was treated the same as any artefact would be, and so meticulous records of its metric attributes were created that allowed cross-referencing with si-milar objects. Through this, the evolution of ob-ject forms could be charted and dissemination of physical characteristics could be charted across wide distances. The Prähistorische Bronzefunde series has been instrumental in codifying this ap-proach and bringing vast quantities of objects to publication.

Building on this long-established heritage, further questions have begun to be asked in the past fifteen years that pertain to how and why weapons were made, why they changed over time, how were they traded/exchanged, how were they used to fight and what were their non-martial functions in the societies that used them.2 New techniques of analysis have been develo-ped, foremost being metallurgical, use-wear and experimental approaches, as well as synthesis between these.3 The above descriptive system of recording weapons may be regarded as a ‘typolo-gical approach’ while the latter may be seen as an ‘interpretative approach’. Synthesis between the two strands is increasingly popular, and draws benefit from the former providing raw material for discussion, while the latter investigates the social and technological strategies behind the metric variability charted.

THE LIFE-CYCLE OF A WEAPON

Conception

The first stage in the life of artefacts is one that all hold in common: the design or conception stage. Before creating an artefact, a craftsman

Figure 1: Zones of regional difference in sword pro-portions in Ireland

into the three-age system (1820) built on a cen-tury of intellectual development, and was one of the first systematic steps for meaningfully segre-gating prehistoric material culture. The growth from reports of curiosities into the production of detailed catalogues occurred around the same time as C. Darwin’s (1859) The Origin of Species emerged, reflecting a new scientific inflection to the study of cultural objects (e.g. Wilde 1863; Evans 1881). In the following decades, this sy-stem of pigeon-holing objects into types and sub-types to make order from chaos solidified into a sub-field of social inquiry in itself. Bronze wea-pons are non-ferrous objects that were frequent-ly deposited in anaerobic environments, and this made them primary targets of such research as they survived in good condition, in great quanti-ties and carried an implicit air of excitement and wonder.

From the late nineteenth century, archaeology was becoming more self-aware and formalised as a discipline, utilising its own distinct research tools alongside those borrowed from other disci-plines. Artefact studies were a core aspect to this

1 E.g. Cowen 1951; 1955; Catling: 1956; 1961; Sandars 1961; 1963; Coles 1962; Eogan 1965.

2 Peatfield 1999; Bridgford 1997; 2000; Bradley 2005; Molloy 2006.

3 E.g. Kristiansen 1984; 2002; Bridgford 1997; 2000; York 2002; Tselios 2004; O’ Flaherty 2002; Molloy 2006; Mödlinger 2011; Uckelmann 2006; various contributions, this volume.

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establishes the criteria and parameters of its design in relation to its intended function and existing technological and aesthetic trends. This may or may not include consultation with the intended end-user, but it involves instilling personalised variations on an established theme that will dictate both the functional and aesthe-tic qualities of the finished product. If we look at the example of Irish Bronze Age spearheads, the breadth of their size and typological ran-ge (Ramsey 1989) demonstrate that craftsmen producing them made wildly varying respon-ses to design considerations. The technological choices in weapon design reflexively link the work of the craftsman and the requirements of the combatant, and the two would meet at this design stage in particular.4

In order to understand weapons as weapons, and not simply generic ‘artefacts’, it is neces-sary to characterise design elements that result from decisions made prior to production. In ty-pological analyses, morphological considerati-on focuses primarily on hilt forms at the expen-se of the business end of the weapon – the blade (Peatfield 1999). Irrespective of hilt configura-tion, lengths and weights of weapons are related to both regional and local patterns, and relate to variations in the functionality of weapons and, by extension, combat systems. In Ireland for ex-ample, where so many bronze weapons survive (Waddell 2000; Molloy 2006), there are distinct regional preferences in the way that weapons were made and used (fig. 1–3). There is a broad band from the east to the west coast in the cen-tre of the island where light and short swords were preferred. These could be deployed rapid-ly and required close proximity to a potential target to make a strike. In the northeast, the pre-ference was for longer and heavier swords that had longer reach and greater impact force, but were slower to deploy. On a more micro-scale, the Type B swords from the two Grave Circles at Mycenae in Greece have typological homo-geneity in hilt form, but in combat terms there is a graduation in length steadily from ca. 300 mm to nearly 700 mm (fig. 4; Fortenberry 1990). It can further be noted that these swords were very much a local tradition, and are rare outside of the territory of Mycenae itself.

While enshrined during the production phase of a weapon, these differences in weapon de-

sign represent real-world variation in the com-bat requirements of the warriors that used them in battle; requirements that were (reflexively) voiced to smiths at the outset of the chaîne opé-ratoire of production. This highlights the need to address why specific weapons or groups of weapons were made in the manner they were, in order to effectively employ data relating to how they were made. Changes in these functional re-quirements can furthermore be seen as a major driving force behind the technological evolution and refinement of bronze-craft traditions.

Birth

Several factors affect the quality of a weapon, most of which are encoded into it at the time of manufacture. The alloy chosen is of particular importance, though as P. Northover (abstract this volume) notes, there was no specific alloy uni-que to weapons. By the time tin-bronzes deve-loped, in many areas of Europe the typical con-tent was around 8–12 % tin.5 In Atlantic Europe, some weapons had a deliberate inclusion of lead (Northover 1988) which lowered the viscosity of molten bronze to ensure better filling of the mould and better surface quality as a result, but it lowered the toughness/durability of the alloy.

Closely allied to alloy choice was the quali-ty of mould preparation. For ceramic bi-valve moulds in particular, the smoothness of the in-terior surfaces was of fundamental importance. While this may have been perfected prior to preheating and pouring, a good mould-maker needed to ensure that degradation of the fine inte-rior surface did not occur in the moments surroun-ding the pour, as experiments have shown that this severely damages the quality of the finished object by increasing porosity and causing larger pitting. Likewise excess lime in the clay used for the ceramic mould can cause gasses to genera-te during the pour resulting in internal and sur-face bubbles/flaws (J. Zuiderwijk, pers. comm.). Following the pour, the post-casting treatment of a weapon involves removing the flashing and polishing the surface of the object, repairing imperfections when possible. The most impor-tant post-casting step, however, is hardening and annealing (or in some cases tempering) of weapons.

4 This need not be weapons being ‘made to order’, but rather represents a feedback process between those who create weapons in a workshop and those who used them in battle.

5 E.g. Eogan 1965; Northover 1988; Ó Faoláin and Northover 1998; Mangou and Ioannou 1999; Mödlinger 2011.

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400 475mm

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Figure 2: Regional variations in length of swords in the 6 zones in Ireland marked in figure 1

Figure 3: Regional variations in weight of swords in the 6 zones in Ireland marked in figure 1


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Figure 4: Lengths of Type B swords from Greece

Simply put, a hard blade-edge is required to maximise the cutting potential of a weapon. In theory, the harder an edge is, the better it will cut. With bronze, however, increasing hardness commensurately decreases toughness, which (for the purposes of this discussion) is the ability of a material to resist fracture through impact stress. Hardening of copper-alloys was achieved through hammering along the blade edge only, thus com-pressing the bronze and deforming the micro-structure.6 By reheating the blade, re-crystallisa-tion reduces stress and tempers it so that adequate functional toughness is retained. In this process, the body of the blade would not be hardened, as retaining higher toughness here allowed a degree of stress-absorption and plastic flexibility. The balance which the smith had therefore to reach was a blade edge that would be hard enough to cut effectively while retaining a degree of tough-ness to offset risk of fracture or chipping along the edge and at the same time maintaining a tough

but not soft core to the blade. This was functio-nally similar7 to case-hardening of iron swords as practiced from Roman times (Bishop and Coulston 1993; Sim 2002). In terms of archaeo-metallurgical research, this reveals a shortcoming in the preponderance of samples taken from the edges of the weapon.8 The hardness values and microstructures revealed create a bias towards one component in the weapon’s design at the expense of others, a point recognised and beginning to be redressed through the use of newer non-destructi-ve technologies (Mödlinger, this volume; Godfrey et. al. abstract this volume). While measurement of toughness on archaeological samples is prohi-bitively destructive, interpretation of the hardness values needs to be offset against consideration of toughness if this strand of scientific research is to be translated coherently into social analysis, in this case weapon design and functionality.

In the case of sheet metal objects, shaping the material required hammering, which increased

6 Allen et al. 1970; Coghlan 1975; Higgins 1983; Bridgford 2000.

7 It was the result of a very different metallurgical technique, though in both cases a tough core is produced

while the edges are hardened.8 This bias is generally created by museum policies

in relation to permissible sampling procedures, rather than research agendas by archaeometallurgists.

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hardness, though this could be tempered or an-nealed. As with bladed-weapons, hardness in-creased rigidity, and also increased resistance to cutting, but excess hardness would cause the me-tal to break or split through impact force (rather than cutting in strict terms), and so a balance had also to be met in terms of alloy chosen and hard-ness level instilled.

The final step for bladed-weapons was to haft the blade, and this had considerable impor-tance for functionality. In the case of spears or halberds, the surviving bronze component re-flects just one element of a weapon. The length, thickness and weight of the wooden shaft would have heavily influenced how the weapon could be used. For example, a short shaft would trans-form a spear into a sword-spear akin to a Zulu (iklwa) Assegai. A long and heavy shaft would make a ‘spear’ functionally comparable to a me-dieval polearm whereby the wooden component constituted the majority of the weapon in terms of combat practice as well as proportions (Anglo 2000). For swords or daggers, some ornate types with gold sheeted hilts (Kilian-Dirlmeier 1993) were non-utilitarian whereas others with bronze handles required organic components to allow them to be gripped (Kristiansen 2002; Molloy 2010). In the case of Aegean swords in particular, it can be demonstrated that the varying forms of hilt design, as well as blade form, imposed wide-ly varying modes of use (Molloy 2008). We need further note that superficially similar objects need not have been manufactured in the same manner, so differences in alloys or finishing techniques (such as hardening) had ramifications for how an object would perform in battle.

Life

The period of time that a weapon was the pos-session of a warrior was the greatest duration it materially interacted with society. Its crea-tion lasted days or weeks, the event of its inter-ment perhaps merely hours, but its life would in many cases have lasted for years, even decades. K. Kristiansen (2002) and S. Bridgford (1997) have highlighted that traces of wear and tear on a blade can come from a variety of contexts of use. In particular some differentially worn-hilts on solid-hilt swords indicate that they received more wear from being worn at the waist than

from being held in the hand. This has impor-tant implications for how the weapon served to embody identity, but reflexively, how weaponry could receive symbolic potency through a sym-biotic relationship with a person who also used other means to characterise martial components to their identity (Treherne 1995; Fowler 2004; Molloy 2006). In terms of how traces of use re-flect their raison d’être in the form of combat damage, much has been written on this subject in recent years.9

This evidence of wear occurs in the form of combat scars and subsequent repairs. Damage concerns the patterns of action that placed a par-ticular object into direct physical opposition to other objects, typically in the form of impacts. The relationship between design, functionali-ty and evidence of use informs us on the active life of the object and how it played a very real role in shaping society. Emphasis to date in use-wear studies has more often been placed on the death and burial stage of a weapon’s life-cycle. Accounting for use-wear, however, is as impor-tant as counting it. Recording that it exists there-fore still calls for appreciation of its cause and character if it is to reveal the story of the ‘life’ of a weapon as well as its character in ‘death’, as will be elaborated on below.

Death

As with the warriors that bore them, there was no typical ‘death’ of a weapon. Some never made it to completion, others were removed from circu-lation with no evidence of having ever been used, some were used and repaired on several occasi-ons before they met their end, others were used lightly and retired while others still were used to their utter destruction in combat or the smithy.10 Weapons shed their practical functionality when they are removed from circulation, though they retain their intrinsic symbolic and metallic wor-th. The decision in most European Bronze Age societies to remove a weapon from circulation would have usually been due to mechanical fac-tors such as damage beyond repair. Occasional finds of ‘founders hoards’ are thought to be the raw materials of smiths buried under speci-fic circumstances, be they temporary measures in times of trouble or ritual offerings (Bradley 1990). Objects that we have recovered that had

9 Bridgford 2000; O’Flaherty 2002; Kristiansen 2002; York 2002; Molloy 2006; Mödlinger 2011; Matthews this volume.

10 Bradley 1990; Bridgford 1997; York 2002; Fontijn 2005.


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been prepared for recycling are exceptional be-cause they survive and do not reflect the typi-cal death of a weapon, the countless examples that were either not buried or were recovered in antiquity of course leave no trace. We can postulate that the majority of bronze was re-cycled and remained in circulation, perhaps beyond the Bronze Age itself. The majority of weapons that made it to the burial stage of a life-cycle ended their functional life due to social, not mechanical, factors. The material available for us to study today is thus poorly representati-ve of how the majority of weapons in a society reached the end of their lifecycle.

Burial

In-depth analysis of the death and burial of objects goes beyond the scope of this paper.11 It should be clear from the above discussion, however, that the patterns we find in depositio-nal practice reflect social practices surrounding the symbolic or economic roles of martial ob-jects. They are less applicable in understanding the longer period when weapons were active participants in negotiating social relationships through combat and personal display.

Archaeological recovery

Archaeological recovery of objects is the final factor that influences the character of our data-set, and it is simply noted here that a majority of finds in Europe have been discovered as the result of non-archaeological work programs such as chance finds, river dredging, peat-ex-traction or infrastructural development.12 This in turn presents a randomised character to our datasets that we must deal with systematical-ly.

SKELETONS IN OUR CLOSET (OR, TERMINOLOGICAL CONSERVATISM THAT

WON’T GO AWAY)

Along with interpretative biases derived from our methodological tradition, there are some

terminological issues13 that confound syste-matic treatment of the evidence. The academic framework for analysis is currently undergoing substantial remodelling; yet, superficially harmless elements in the language used to de-scribe weapons inhibit systematic development of this field.

W. Wilde in 1862 introduced the term ‘ra-pier’ and W. P. Brewis (1923) the term ‘cut-and-thrust’ sword, both of which are peppered throughout the literature along with references to apparently self-explanatory phrases such as ‘thrusting swords’ or ‘slashing swords‘. Shafted weapons of any proportion are grou-ped together as spears (Molloy 2006), and shields incorporate everything from small-dia-meter bronze bucklers to broad wooden shields (Molloy 2009). We also feel a need to create a division between daggers and swords when the only identifiable difference in an artefact group may be length, so that the material itself often resists partition; e.g. Aegean Type B or C daggers and swords (Kilian-Dirlmeier 1993; Papadopoulos 1998). In Atlantic Europe, esta-blishing a difference in the so-called daggers, dirks and rapiers (Burgess and Gerloff 1981) has been the product of trying to force material to fit an inappropriately borrowed terminologi-cal framework. Replicating such terminology without qualification is problematic because segregation of objects can occur even where this bears no real cultural significance; the lack of recognisable boundaries today may often be the result of a lack of perceived boundaries in antiquity.

As argued in Molloy (2007), the use of ob-jects such as the Lissane Rapier (Burgess and Gerloff 1981), Type Sauerbrunn swords (Schauer 1971) or Mycenaean Type A swords (Kilian-Dirlmeier 1993; Molloy 2010) as ar-chetypal early forms of sword has led to a common perception that early swords were for thrusting attacks. These indeed are typically called thrusting-swords or rapiers in the lite-rature. A perceived next generation of swords (disregarding protracted periods of transition; Molloy 2007; 2010) are the broad families of grip-tongue and solid-hilted swords that occur across much of Europe. These receive equal-ly unqualified generic names such as ‘slashing swords’, ‘cut-and-thrust’ swords or worse still

11 See for example Bradley 1990; Bridgford 1997; York 2002; Fontijn 2005; Harding 2006; 2007.

12 Many are recovered by archaeologists involved either in monitoring extracted materials or through rescue

excavation.13 In English language literature in particular. 14 E.g. Burton 1884; Oakeshott 1960; Amberger 1998;

Clements 1998; 1999; 2007; Wagner and Hand 2003.

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‘true swords’ (Heath 2009, 99). Reference must be made to the broad corpus of literature that deals with sword design and use in other pe-riods or places, from a martial art perspective, as it demonstrates that our adherence to archaic archaeological terms is a genuine methodologi-cal problem.14

The common perception of the evolution of bronze sword forms is that they went from stabbing to slashing designs, a framework so facile that it actually defies application of mar-tial arts theory (Clements 2007). Too many of our ‘stabbing swords’ have well-defined cutting edges, and too many of our ‘slashing swords’ are well-balanced for effective point attacks for these categorisations to be considered valid in any real sense. This goes beyond semantic issues because the unfounded view that ‘thru-sting’ swords were used for duelling is still wi-dely held (Heath 2009, 98 f.). This is based in part on unhelpful comparisons to renaissance society15 and also frequent reference to ‘duel-ling scenes’ from the Aegean, despite the fact that scenes with long-swords exclusively depict swordsmen fighting spearmen (Papadopoulos 2006; Molloy 2010).

De-loading our terminology is the most sy-stematic way of proceeding, along with an ac-ceptance of blurred boundaries between cate-gories, particularly daggers and short swords. There are already terms in existence that can be applied more comprehensively so that we may look at grip-plate swords or Naue ii swords in place of dirks, rapiers or cut-and-thrust swords. For spears, the distinction is not so easy and needs further research to create acceptable ways of distinguishing a heavy, single-handed stabbing or throwing spear from a heavy pole-arm suited to cutting and stabbing attacks. For shields, the typological categories are restricted enough (Coles 1962; Uckelmann, in prep.) to allow differentiation of modes of use based on size and fabric (Molloy 2009). Terminological change therefore does not so much require a paradigm shift as it does a more sensible ap-plication of non-functionally loaded terms from the existing typological lexicon. Change must be made in our specialist archaeological lite-rature which may then filter into more general studies.

DESIGN AND DAMAGE

The example of swords is taken in this section because the majority of the original weapon survives, due to their minimal organic compo-nents. With the typological diversity of these weapons, any generalising statement is proble-matic, but we can broadly say that the majority were between 350 and 800 mm in length.16 A modal weight range between 300 and 800 grams has broad applicability, and the vast majority of swords can be described as having two clear-ly defined sharp edges and an acutely angled point. Many swords fall outside of this metric range and the breadth of these parameters is in itself very coarse, but it serves to give a general impression of the majority of weapons from this period in relation to swords from later periods. In terms of the wider history of swords, most Bronze Age types can be considered to be short, light and manoeuvrable weapons that were multi-purpose in terms of potential attacks – suited to various forms of cutting and thrusting. When we take specific categories, such as a French Carp’s Tongue or an Aegean Type Fii sword, these parameters can be significantly tightened and discussion made more specific. The purpose in this section, however, is to create the general context into which these specific studies can be best located. To this end, we may note that even the longest and heaviest bronze swords were generally within the parameters of a Roman Gladius (Bishop and Coulston 1993), the ar-chetypal short sword, rather than a medieval long-sword (Clements 1998; 2007).

The point of balance on a sword is an issue of considerable importance in relation to hand-ling, and by extension modes of use. However, for a great many bronze swords, their light weight and short length reduces the importance of balance points as they do not gain significant momentum or kinetic energy during a cutting attack. Most of these swords require elliptical cutting arcs that draw the blade along a target, as opposed to striking down onto it with force, so that there is minimal commitment of balance of both weapon and user in making a strike. For heavier, longer examples the issue of balance becomes more important, but with the relative inflexibility of bronze, cutting attacks retain this

15 This is discussed at length in Molloy 2007. Here it is noted that renaissance rapiers had nothing whatsoever functionally in common with those bronze swords termed rapiers, apart from their length. There is furthermore no basis for comparing the social context of combats in these two societies.

16 For grip-plate swords, ca. 60 mm must be added to the length to account for the missing organic handle. This length is derived from the surviving wooden handle on the sword from Shower, Co. Tipperary, Ireland. Burgess and Gerloff 1991, 116; Molloy 2006, no. 8; National Museum no. 1904: 5604.


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bias towards incising rather than percussive cuts (see Amberger 1999). The difference in sword designs therefore most often relates to the ba-lance between incision and percussion in cuts, rather than a bias towards either cutting or thru-sting. All Bronze Age swords (except the rare bronze ‘scimitars’ from Scandinavia) were sui-ted to thrusting attacks.

Along with balance, the toughness and flexi-bility of a sword will dictate the forces that can be applied in making attacks. For example a very soft sword will bend when impacting a tar-get whereas a very hard sword may snap at the point of impact or the leverage point close to the hand.17 Bronze swords have plastic rather than elastic deformation properties, which means that they will bend but not naturally spring back to their original form. Their relative lack of tough-ness18 also means that when bent, they can only be straightened once or twice without the aid of heat treatment before fatigue and internal flaws cause a fracture. The hardness value of the edge of bronze swords was typically 100–200 HV (Bridgford 2000; Mödlinger 2011) and conse-quently they would not retain a very sharp an-gled cutting-edge,19 and this is why they typical-ly have a wide edge-angle to best retain a level of moderate sharpness.

A concise general statement may therefore be that bronze swords were short, light, unforgi-ving in terms of flexibility and could not hold a very sharp edge. They had neither the weight nor length required to make broad, sweeping cutting attacks and they were likewise restricted from making heavy-impact cutting/cleaving strokes. In general terms they were suited to tighter cutting-arcs and/or making cuts using a drawing motion and thrusting attacks could easily be performed (Amerger 1998; Molloy 2010). Exceptions such

as Atlantic Group III Class Lissane grip-plate swords or some early Aegean swords were used differently (Molloy 2007; 2010), though they represent a small percentage of the corpus of European bronze swords.

The effectiveness of cutting attacks with a sword is increased when the blade strikes at an area called the centre-of-percussion, a part of the blade where the harmonics are such that ma-ximum force is transferred to the target. This is typically ca. two-thirds the way from shoulders to tip on bronze blades. As cutting attacks were ra-rely robust strikes, we would not expect frequent heavy damage on blade edges20 and might expect proportionately more damage to be concentra-ted around the centre-of-percussion. Damage is inflicted either when a strike is intercepted by another object or from making contact with an intended target. In the quarter of the blade clo-sest to the hilt, damage may be inflicted when a potential incoming attack is blocked or stifled by intercepting the attacking blade with this area pri-or to it gaining full momentum (fig. 6). Parries or re-direction of an attack would make use of the trajectory and relative motion of both blades on interception and thus result in minor damage to any location along the blade.

All of the above activities would result in a range of types of damage to the blade. V-shaped nicks occur as the result of a brief point of contact when blades impacted on each other and were retrieved/rebounded almost instantaneously.21 Burred nicks, notches and u-shaped notches were usually the result of twisting movement of either or both blades immediately following impact. Shallow nocks can occur from a variety of im-pacts and defy hard and fast explanation. Bowing of the blade edge occurs when an attack strikes a spear shaft, the flat of another blade or bone at an

17 When a blade strikes a target the force of the impact is transferred both to the target and to the hand of the user. When the centre of percussion is effectively used, the force to the target is maximised and that to the hand minimised due to the natural harmonics of the metal. On less ideal strikes, more force is returned to the user and the natural point of leverage occurs typically in the area of the hilt.

18 Due to the mechanical impact testing required to measure toughness, archaeometallurgical research has had to focus solely on hardness with little reference to toughness, a significant methodological problem in terms of assessing combat worthiness of a weapon.

19 Determined by examining ancient pieces and through experimental work.

20 Except when deliberately inflicted such as ‘killing’ a weapon.

21 Forms of damage have been discussed by S. Bridgford (2000) and B. Molloy (2006) the latter system is used here

which include: Nocks – shallow and narrow ‘dents’ in a blade edge, often burred parallel to the blade edge; V-shaped nicks – sharply defined impact creating a wedge shaped impact mark commensurate with the profile of an attacking blade-edge; Notches – impact marks whereby a portion of metal has been chipped or broken away from the blade on impact; Burred nicks or notches – a sliver of metal is broken from its original position creating a gap in the blade, but this is attached still on the edge of the impact mark at ca. 90 degrees to the blade edge; Rippling – this is where the edge forms a wavy pattern so that it is no longer a straight line; Bowing – an impact literally folds a small section of the blade out of position, similar to a nock but proportionately wider; Rolling – when the blade edge folds back on itself at the very edge; Cut – when a thin section of the blade is cut away, typically leaving a bur at the end of the cut-line.

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oblique angle (off-line from the trajectory of a clean cutting-line) so that the edge buckles instead of cuts. When parries result in a sliding motion, the relative lack of hardness can cause rippling or slight rolling of the blade edge. Occasional examples of a sharply defined u-shaped notch ca. 1 mm wide occur, which it is suggested may be the result of a light impact against the edge of an unrolled bronze shield.

In order to investigate these different areas of damage on ancient swords, the author divi-ded complete blades into three equal zones and recorded differential damage (Molloy 2006). The case-study of complete and near-complete Irish Bronze Age swords was used during the author’s PhD research.22 During choreogra-

phed test-sparring and test-cutting with fully sharpened replica swords, the above forms of damage were encountered and recorded. This allowed causation to be charted and compared against damage on ancient weapons.

It was noted that the damage on Irish Bronze Age swords was in many cases frequent, though in very few cases it was severe. Damage along the blades was usually in the form of shallow nicks, and in only in exceptional cases was combat damage recorded along the flat of the blade, indicating that blocks and parries used the blade edges (fig. 5). This indicates that the users were conscious of the mechani-cal qualities of their weapons and used them accordingly.

Figure 5: Edge damage on long and narrow Irish grip-plate sword (National Museum of Ireland, no. W104). Some taphonomic damage is evident, though the general coarse character to the edges appears to have been in this condition when the weapon was used: A – Shallow nicks and nocks; B – U-shaped notch; C – Shallow bur-

red notch; D – Over-sharpened and rolled-edge Figure 6: Edge damage immediately on the lower blade on Irish grip-plate sword (National Museum of Ireland,

no. P251A)

22 During subsequent consideration of this data it was noted that the centre of percussion spanned the two zones on the point side of the blade, and so it is suggested that in future

research, a blade is better divided into four equal parts, the centre-of-percussion falling into the second quarter of the blade from the point.

6

5


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In combat, most forms of weapon would not exclusively meet similar types of weapon in ex-changes of blows. When we focus on one parti-cular category of weapon, such as swords, it is insufficient to consider their use solely in relati-on to their fellows; the sword must be placed in the multi-weapon martial milieu to which it be-longed. Terms like ‘swordsmanship’, while far from redundant, must not dominate how we con-sider swords to have been used and certainly not exclusively reflect the weapons they faced and received damage from/inflicted damage upon. For example, the typical defensive weapon used in sword fighting appears to have been shields, whereby the majority of interceptions would have used this in favour of the sword (Molloy 2009). We therefore need not expect extensive edge damage on swords when used according to their combat expectations. The Hollywood myth of swords clanging against swords in combats is very much a piece of showmanship and does not reflect real combat practice, and so we should not be looking for damage on a sword to have been inflicted by another sword in all cases.

Whether a swordsman had a shield or not, whether he23 faced another sword or a spear, we can be certain that he was conscious of the trade-off between inflicting injury or damage on an op-ponent and causing damage to his own weapon (as well as exposure to personal injury). In ca-ses where we get heavy damage to a sword, this was the result of it being used ‘inappropriately’. Given that battle was dynamic and that luck was as important as skill in many contexts, the risk of damage to a weapon needs to be considered as subordinated to risk of injury to the person and so heavy-handed use occurred when absolutely necessary. Through this the weapon may fail, and the user may escape impending attacks or be killed, but that in itself was the nature of combat. Furthermore, while warriors were aware of the mechanical limits of their weapons, protracted use could lead to degradation and breakage even in a single engagement.

There was no ideal sword, spear or shield and the effectiveness of each was subject to the skills of the user and the context of use. When we look for damage on weaponry we can therefore cha-racterise forms of damage broadly as those in-flicted from ‘proper’ use of a weapon and those which were the result of less proper, perhaps desperate, use. Differences in damage may be

indicative of varying skill levels of their original owners but could also be the result of the dura-tion of use in single battle. The character of com-bat damage, as well as its form or frequency, has largely untapped potential to reveal more about ancient martial arts.

WEAPONS IN SOCIETY

In order to consider how weapons were used in the larger scale of battles, the numbers that were in circulation must be considered. As discussed above, the way weapons enter the archaeolo-gical record was heavily linked to biographies, and the easy recyclability of bronze means that survival rate speaks of certain social practices, making it of little benefit in estimating original numbers in circulation. The most direct sources we have are from prehistoric Crete, where survi-ving archival records list swords. These Linear B records were inscribed on clay tablets, some small few of which survive due to their being partially ceramicised in fires that destroyed their storage rooms. While the resultant record is therefore very partial and selective, we can note the Ra Linear B tablets from Knossos include Ra 1540 that lists 50 swords and Ra 7498 that lists 18 and 99 swords; 20 fragmentary tablets list an uncertain number of swords (Driessen and Macdonald 1984, 64). Considering the 24 swords known archaeologically for the entire Bronze Age from this area, the implications are considerable. While this tells us little of who ac-tually owned these swords, it does tell us that the facility for mass production and distribution of armaments was within the technological and social parameters of this society. Speculating along the lines that ‘it is unlikely that...swords were the normal weapon of foot soldiers, or “in-fantry”’ (Heath 2009, 100) is harmful in that it has no factual foundation. We cannot estimate the number of weapons that were in circulation, but through direct and circumstantial evidence (through technological argument), we know that weapon production was a well-developed indu-stry that produced vastly more pieces than sur-vive today.

Using this technological approach, we can ex-tend the argument derived from Crete to other areas of Europe. The creation of bronze wea-pons required the carving of a wooden templa-te for bladed weapons and a wooden former for

23 The assumption that warriors were male and the relevance of the term warrior in itself are made here,

following the rationale of Harding (2006).

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leather and bronze shields (Ó Faoláin 2004). Once created, the template can be re-used re-peatedly to create multiple copies of similar swords or spears at the same time or in alterna-te cycles by creating clay moulds based on the former. For shields, sheets of bronze or leather can be repeatedly pressed into the same former. This would produce virtually identical objects that can be recognised archaeologically. From Ireland, three identical swords found in the same context at Ballycroghan and were made from the same template and bear evidence of various different steps in the production process (Jope 1953). From Djursland, Denmark (Jensen 2002, 73, after Kristiansen and Larsson 2005, 207), we have eight swords that were produced from the same mould, again not completely fi-nished. From the site of Arkalochori in Crete (Marinatos 1935), nine swords occur, at least five of which were made from the same woo-den original and yet again none of these were completed.

These are not exceptional cases, but they are also absolutely not the rule. In truth, there are few if any known examples of swords or spears found in different contexts that irrefutably came from the same template. This may indica-te that one template was more usually used for just one weapon, but the caches of unfinished weapons made from a single pattern denote this was unlikely and that separation of similar pieces occurred after weapons were completed in a workshop. The technological ease of mass production and Cretan texts further hint that very few of the weapons originally produced have made it into the archaeological record. One can also note that the hundreds of thou-sands of Greek Hoplite warriors historically attested along with the millions of Roman sol-diers known from our sources have left fewer weapons than the Bronze Age inhabitants of Europe.24

In the case of shields, the dataset throughout Europe is too small to determine significant pat-terns, but finds such as the sixteen shields from Fröslunda in Sweden (Hagberg 1988) indicate that shields were not as rare in society as indi-cated by their survival rates. The choice of wea-pons for deposit in most areas was clearly biased towards the offensive rather than defensive ones. The imitation of elements of bronze body ar-mour on gold ornaments in Ireland (Cahill 2005)

is noteworthy as various smiths clearly had rea-dy access to this armour, yet not one piece of it survives archaeologically.

The likelihood that we have recovered a mere fraction of the weapons originally in use has important implications for understanding how groups of combatants worked together to engage in warfare. It is not the purpose of this paper to speculate on forms of warfare or actual numbers involved, this has been the subject of many in-sightful analyses.25 Further consideration of po-pulation estimates based on settlement patterns may reveal more than the weaponry can in rela-tion to each specific region. Of more immediate concern in this paper is understanding how va-riability in forms of weaponry might be used to illuminate modes of combat practice.

Weapon availability may have fluctuated in any given region from times when they were freely available to those entitled to bear them, to times when they were of more restricted circulation (Kristiansen 2002). At all times in most regions there was a wide variety of wea-pons available, and even variety in the forms of any given category. For example, for the la-ter Bronze Age in Central Europe, rod-tanged swords were in use alongside solid-hilted swords and grip-tongue swords; in Atlantic Europe, Carp’s Tongue swords were used alongside leaf-shaped grip-tongue forms; and in the Aegean Naue ii swords were in use alongside Type Fii, Gii and Dii. Looking at shields, in the latter re-gion tower and figure-of-eight shields were used alongside each other and in northern Europe, shields varied in size from around 300–700 mm diameter and could be made from wood, leather, bronze or combinations of any. Spears, as men-tioned above, ranged from throwing forms, to short-hafted sword-like types, to single-handed stabbing forms to two-handed pole-arms. Axes ranged from miniature tools to lethal weapons. One can also add archers and slingers to this mix. The battlefield was thus an environment where a host of different weapon forms would come into direct opposition in combat. Should this be conceived as a chaotic ensemble of mismatched warriors fighting in haphazard fury, or can it be seen to reflect a much more sophisticated martial system underpinning battles?

Some brief observations from early literature can prove revealing, as while they do not provi-de a generic guide to prehistoric warfare, they

24 Bishop and Coulston 1993; Snodgrass 1999; Connolly 1998; Prähistorische Bronzefunde (multiple volumes).

25 Ferguson 1993; Osgood 1998; Bridgford 2000; Harding 2007; O’Brien 2009; Wylie 1995; Vandkilde 2006b, 515; Kristiansen and Larsson 2005, 229.


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relate to peoples in the same geoclimatic regi-ons utilising similarly complex weapon pano-plies, and thus provide useful analogies.26 These indeed provide much more relevant datasets in terms of material culture and settlement patterns than the often found comparisons to tribal so-cieties in far-flung reaches of the earth (Osgood 1998). In the Irish epic ‘The Táin’, we read of a host of weapon types and there is a recognition that different forms of spear had different names. We also repeatedly hear in these epics of specia-lised training regimes for youths who were to be-come warriors and the specialised skills that they learned are repeated throughout the text. On the training of Cuchulainn, we hear that ‘if he real-ly wanted to learn heroic deeds, he must go to where Scáthach was teaching her two sons’ and that ‘Scáthach taught him brave deeds and craft of arms’ (Kinsella 1969, 31). We later read of the single-combat between Cuchulainn and Ferdia, where they repeatedly ask at each stage of the long battle ‘what weapons will we use today?’ (Kinsella 1969, 187–192), indicating wide varia-tion in available weapons and related modes of use.

In terms of comparing this to the Bronze Age, we can recognise that the material culture of war was equally rich. The physiological requirements to use weapons with due attention to their me-chanical limitations requires skill-development through repetitive-task execution (Malafouris 2004; Molloy 2008). It also requires stress-ino-culation to permit execution of these tasks while experiencing stress-induced physiological distor-tion of the senses that occurs in a combat envi-ronment (Molloy and Grossman 2007). These are all the product of a martial art training regime, not occasional fracas or beat-‘em-ups. Use-wear analysis (Molloy 2006) provides evidence for prehistoric weapons being used by skilled mar-tial art practitioners, as the damage is in many cases commensurate with controlled application of force and trajectories of attack.

Contemporary to the Bronze Age throughout much of Europe, the epic Odyssey was written in the Greek world and tells of the journeys of the hero Odysseus. In this work, we read about the protagonist deliberately masking his martial art skills, as they would reveal his knowledge of specialised training and thus his elite status.

‘Now both contenders put their hands up. Royal Odysseus pondered if he should hit him with all he had and drop the man dead on the spot, or only spar, with force enough to knock him down. Better that way he thought – a gentle blow, ‘else he might give himself away’ (The Odyssey xviii 80–120 [my emphasis]).

It is interesting to note that from the Aegean Bronze Age we have comparatively abundant iconographic evidence of martial arts training and practice in the form of boxing as well as evidence of application of martial arts in deadly combats (Hiller 1999; Peatfield 2007). From Roman through to Medieval times, we repeatedly read of, and see in art, wooden training swords being used to hone the skills of warriors (Clements 1998). From Ireland and Britain in particular, a number of such wooden swords survive from prehistory (e.g. from Cappagh in Ireland and Groatsetter in the Orkneys), once again indicating that the de-velopment of combat skills was part of the ex-pectation of those who would engage in combat. The Cappagh sword is broken, possibly through use and the handle of the Groatsetter sword is polished through repeated handling.27 Examples citing the use of wooden swords can be found wi-dely when literary and artistic source material in Europe increase in quantity and quality.28 In ge-neral, it remains consistent throughout European history that at times of rich martial assemblages, there was a commensurately rich martial art tra-dition.

Without recourse to details of frequency, du-ration, scale, intensity, strategy, tactics, logistics, differential armaments, causation or conflict re-solution mechanisms, there is little we can say about the conduct of war or who combatants were. J. Whitley (2002) and S. K. Smith (2009) and others have argued that we equally cannot use the mortuary record to ascertain the status or identity of warriors in most areas of Europe. The often cited concept of a ‘warrior elite’ is thus at odds with the resolution we possess on social structures. There was differential wealth distri-bution in all known societies from Bronze Age Europe, and in societies that lack the rule-of-law, protection of acquired wealth required deterrents for would-be raiders/thieves from taking this wealth by force. The materialisation of this po-wer, wealth and influence was typically through

26 Wylie 1995; Vandkilde 2006b, 515; Kristiansen and Larsson 2005, 229.

27 The lack of damage to the edges indicates that it was not used in heavy contact sparring, but it would have served well to practice forms (choreographed sequences of

attack). Its greater proportions than a typical sword can be accounted for by the requirement of it weighing the same as a bronze type.

28 E.g. several references in the Tain (Kinsella 2002, 104. 118. 119); Vegetius (Reeve 2003); Talhoffer 2000.

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portable assets, be it a cow or a cauldron. Warriors may have been free men that commanded materi-al benefits from authority structures, but we have no evidence that they had a ‘controlling stake’ in socio-political decision making. The term ‘warrior elite’ therefore remains unhelpful, and while we may replace it with ‘elite warriors’ in many cases, tying the two terms together seems unnecessary. Nonetheless, it would be an untenable paradox if those who controlled wealth were not those who controlled the power to physically protect it, and so we may consider a direct relationship between those who sanctioned violence and those who were sanctioned to enact it. This places warriors as key players within elite power systems even when they were not at the helm. The authority struc-ture of Anglo-Saxon Britain is not entirely inap-propriate as an analogy for many areas of Bronze Age Europe.29 In this case, we have warrior bands who pledged loyalty to a lord or king (Pollington 1996), who then negotiated social relationships within the group and with other social groups. All free men may have had the right to bear arms when they came of age, and slaves or bondsmen were maintained for undertaking mundane labour. Where is the evidence? There is none, yet we have clear evidence in the differential access to wealth that these were not societies of equals and that vio-lence, as well as wealth, was a potential means to assert influence. Neither history nor anthropology can provide a single model (Keeley 1996) where a similar milieu was sustained for centuries without enforced social differentiation, and so we may present the above as fitting our material evidence for existence of different practitioners of wealth management, extreme violence and mundane far-ming.

CONCLUSION – WEAPONS AS WEAPONS

The study of Bronze Age weapons is one of the few areas in prehistoric archaeology where a pan-European analysis has obvious resonance, main-ly due to the functional and typological parity of weapon designs. The long history of research has led to the development of common functional in-terpretations that have worked through this pan-European vision so that concepts developed, right or wrong, in one region can have a direct impact on research in another area. One can make direct

reference to the widely cited notion of thrusting and slashing swords, for example. A ‘bottom-up approach’ that builds from primary artefact re-search through to addressing how combinations of weapons work together in combat has potential to add new interpretative dynamics to a traditional field of archaeological research.

The relationship between typological and in-terpretative approaches need not be divisive, as synthesis complements the objectives of both. Of particular importance is addressing cultural issues that shape the emergence of new artefact forms, particularly through the sphere of long-distance movement and interaction of warriors as well as craftsmen. Combat practitioners would favour functional attributes of various weapons and the-se ideas were brought together by craftsman in different regions, resulting in the sequential de-velopment of weapon forms through time. The biological overtones of conceptualising artefact change as ‘evolution’, whereby a new form derives from pre-existing ‘parent’ forms, risks prioritising aesthetic over functional elements in processes of change. While dominant aesthetics derived from craft traditions, functional changes relate to the requirements of warriors, and so we must bear in mind both of these characters when considering changes in forms. Use-wear analysis, archaeome-tallurgical research and experimental archaeology should thus inform typological research in the same fashion that typological research provides metric data on forms that can inform functional analy-ses. Similarly, metallurgical research must remain cognisant of why manufacturing processes were enacted in relation to the intended functions of a weapon, bringing ever greater unity to this specific field and affording it resonance in addressing so-cial and technological issues on a wider scale.

A biographical / chaîne opératoire model30 can further serve to coherently bring together the varying traditions of archaeological scholar-ship that look at these datasets – those concer-ned with metallurgy, typology, craft-traditions and trade/communication, non-martial roles such as display and deposition, use-wear ana-lysis and finally combat applications. Moving beyond discussion of differences between thru-sting and slashing swords, from functional versus ceremonial shields or from throwing to stabbing spears, we can begin to better appreciate the dy-namic multidisciplinary quality of our data and

29 Other examples of similar social structures are common thoughout Europe, and this is thus one of many analogies. In particular, the settlement systems and hierarchies fit well for many prehistoric regions, as do the

cases of individuals characterised as warriors through their funerary assemblages.

30 Particularly through a Combat Archaeology framework (Molloy 2008).


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better explore the life and times of Bronze Age weapons.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First and foremost I would like to thank the organis-ers for bringing us all together for the conference and for inviting me to participate. I am grateful to M. Cahill and M. Lannin at the National Museum of Ireland, S. MacCartin in the Ulster Museum, J. Swaddling in the British Museum and M. Vickers at the Ashmolean Museum for advice, help and ac-cess to materials. My thanks to M. Milić for sen-sible and helpful comments on this paper. Thanks also to A. Pearfield for discussions on combat applications of weapons. This research was car-ried out under funding from the Irish Research Council for Humanities and Social Sciences and the Department of Social Welfare, Ireland.

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Barry Molloy UCD School of ArchaeologyUniversity College DublinBelfieldDublin 4Ireland

Documents

Bronze Age Warfare: Manufacture and Use of Weaponry