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Mistaken Identity? Mosaic in Israel Purported to Show Alexander the Great, but Some Not So Sure

Ancient Origins


According to NationalGeographic.com, archaeologists have discovered an interesting and unusual mosaic at the Huqoq archaeological site west of the Sea of Galilee. The most recent and most interesting find dates from the 5th century, and shows a king in military attire and a troop of soldiers, offering a calf to a group of white-robed priests. But the meeting is obviously fractious, as the priests are drawing their swords, while the bottom of the scene shows the solders lying defeated and dying.

The scene has been compared to the semi-legendary meeting between Alexander the Great and the Jerusalem priesthood, in the 4th century BC. While other historians have suggested the mosaic represents the attack on Jerusalem by Antiochus VII in the 2nd century BC. But the characters are not named, which is unusual for mosaics in this era, and there are a number of problems with these interpretations. The main problem is that the king is bearded, which Antiochus and Alexander were not. And the meeting between Alexander and the Judaic priesthood was supposed to have been friendly, not antagonistic. And neither Alexander nor Antiochus were defeated, as the bottom of the mosaic appears to show.
Archaeological site of Huqoq, Israel, where the new mosaic has been revealed. ( CC BY-SA 3.0 )Detail of mosaic. ( Source: NationalGeographic/Mark Thiessen)Mistaken IdentitySince traditional academia have been unable to satisfactorily decypher what this mosaic represents, perhaps we should rework these interpretations using the new religio-historical framework that has been constructed in 'The King Jesus Trilogy'. This radical new theory, which is fully supported by all the original texts, suggests that the gospel era and story refers to the late AD 60s, and the tragic events of the Jewish Revolt. And if we use this new framework, we can immediately see that this mosaic does not depict Alexander the Great or Antiochus. The classical interpretations are wrong.
More intriguingly, this is actually a depiction of an obscure scene from the Talmud, where bar Kamza offers a sacrificial calf on behalf of the Romans, to rabbi Zechariah Abkulas (see Gittin 55-57).  This was in about AD 68, just prior to the Jewish Revolt.  But bar Kamza was being devious here, because he had cut the calf's lip (you can see the mark on the mosaic), knowing that Zechariah would have to reject the blemished Roman offering - and thereby offend the Romans, and in turn precipitate the Jewish Revolt. This was one of the ways by which the Jewish Revolt was deliberately contrived.
Eden in Egypt – Part 1 The Surprising Links Between Alexander the Great and Christianity Does newly-translated Hebrew text reveal insights into King Solomon’s treasures? So who was this mysterious and largely unknown character called bar Kamza? Well, in actual fact, Kamza is merely a witty hypocorism meaning 'locust'.  And there was a royal family in Syria who were similarly disparaged as being locusts, one of whom was Agabus (meaning locust) who appears in Acts of the Apostles (Acts 11:27).  This Syrian Agabus in Acts prophesied the great Judaean famine of AD 47 and gave famine relief-money, just as did the more famous Queen Helena.  And this confirms that this royal family of 'locusts' was actually the Syrian monarchy of King Abgarus V of Edessa, because he was married to this very same Queen Helena.  Yes, the famous 1st century Queen Helena was the queen of Edessa in northern Syria.  (Note - Agabus and Agbarus are the Roman and Syriac pronunciations of this king's name.)
According to the account, King Abgarus received the Image of Edessa, a likeness of Jesus. ( Public Domain )And all the Edessan royalty, including King Abgarus, were bearded, a detail which suits the king in this mosaic much better than does Alexander or Antiochus. In fact, Josephus Flavius calls the Edessan monarchy the 'barbarians beyond the Euphrates', because they were bearded and lived across the Euphrates ('barbarian' being derived from 'barber' meaning 'hair', rather than from a foreign language).  And all the Edessan kings wore the diadema headband, the same as in this mosaic, which was the symbol of both the Greek and the Greco-Persian royalty.
So it is possible that this mosaic depicts King Abgar V of Edessa. But we are actually looking for the son of King Abgarus here (bar Kamza, not Kamza), and he was called King Izas Manu VI of Edessa.  And we know that the Talmud's enigmatic character called bar Kamza was King Izas Manu of Edessa, because both are said to have lived in Antioch-Edessa, and both are said to have started the Jewish Revolt (see: Gittin 55-57, and Josephus Flavius). But who was this relatively unknown King Izas Manu? (who was almost completely deleted from the works of Josephus Flavius.)  Believe it or not, King Izas Manu was the biblical King Jesus Em Manu-el, which is why the king on this mosaic wears a Judaic side-lock of hair.  (These 'two' monarchs share many, many similarities, including their near-identical names and a ceremonial Crown of Thorns.)
King Solomon’s Mines Discovered: Kings and Pharaohs - Part I The Tomb of Alexander the Great - Part 1 Use of unique pyramid-shaped podium in Jerusalem baffles archaeologists Note that the character in this mosaic is dressed in military uniform and is wearing a purple cloak, which was the sole prerogative of the Roman Emperor, and so we know this king was claiming the throne of Rome. However, in a very similar fashion the biblical Jesus (King Izas Manu) was also pointedly said to have been dressed in a purple cloak (Mark 15:7). Why?  Because the Jewish Revolt was primarily a revolt against Rome, rather than against Judaea, and King Izas Manu (the biblical Jesus) wanted to become the next emperor of Rome.  Which is why both of these kings wore a purple cloak, and why their army is depicted as being defeated at the bottom of the mosaic. King Izas Manu of Edessa started and lost the Jewish Revolt, and according to Josephus Flavius he was crucified in the Kidron Valley alongside two others, but survived.
The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem during Jewish-Roman war. ( Public Domain )So the upper register of this mosaic depicts bar Kamza giving a sacrificial calf to the priests of Jerusalem, to start the Jewish Revolt, while the bottom register depicts his eventual defeat. And so we see here the start and the end of the Jewish Revolt - an event that plays a large role not just in Josephus Flavius' history of the Jews, but also in the Talmudic and Gospel accounts. And so this mosaic confirms that bar Kamza was King Izas Manu of Edessa, and confirms that King Izas Manu was the biblical King Jesus Manu-el.  Which is, in turn, a complete confirmation of the new religio-historical framework discovered, explored, and explained in 'The King Jesus Trilogy'.
Ralph Ellis is author of Jesus, King of Edessa . You can find out more at Edfu-Books.com
The full mosaic can be seen here:
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/09/mysterious-mosaic-alexander-the-great-israel/
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Top Image: Architectural elements and ruins at the archaeological site of Huqoq, Israel (CC BY-SA 3.0). Inset, decorated mosaic floor uncovered in the buried ruins of a synagogue at Huqoq. (National Geographic)
By Ralph Ellis

How naughty was the past? The hidden depths of the medieval church

History Extra

Sheela-na-gig. © Poliphilo (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons
1) Monkeying aroundIn the north nave aisle of York Minster is the famous Pilgrimage Window (dated c1330). The window is named after the depiction of the crucifixion in its main lights, which is sited above male and female pilgrims flanking St Peter. St Peter is portrayed not only with his usual attribute of the key [of heaven] but also by the less familiar image of a church held within his hand – very fitting considering he was the patron saint of the cathedral.
Structured much like an illuminated manuscript page, the most intriguing element of the window’s composition is the amusing animal imagery in the lower margins. Among these scenes is a funeral procession of monkeys with a bell-ringer; cross-bearer; four pall-bearers carrying a bier to which another monkey clings and a monkey doctor examines his sick ape patient; while along the vertical borders are further squirrels and monkeys, some investigating urine flasks. There is also a fox preaching to a cock; a parody of a hunt with a stag chasing a hound; a fox stealing a goose pursued by a woman, while an archer and other animals complete the border scene. But, as Bernard of Clairvaux asked in 1125, “to what purpose are those unclean apes?” And how should they be ‘read’?
Animals in medieval art need to be seen within their wider context, instead of ascribing each single motif with a meaning. Not only in stained glass, but more commonly in manuscripts, borders were decorated with exotic animals, grotesque hybrids, animals mimicking humans, humans in animal form, and mythical creatures performing lewd and humorous antics. In fact, animals are used throughout medieval art as iconographical representations or portraying allegorical qualities.
Many, including lions, were used because of their proximity to people. This could be due to their bestial human nature. An example of this can be found within the presbytery of Exeter Cathedral where a 14th-century roof boss depicts a lion standing on his rear legs, twisting his head around to face a male figure, likely Samson from the biblical tale, who is forcing the jaws of the creature apart.
Lions were also employed as representations of Christ and as the evangelist, St Mark. A great example of Mark and his winged lion attribute can be found in the 12th-century ‘Worms Bible’, housed at the British Library.
One of the more curious marginal motifs was the use of monkeys. Monkeys were often represented doing human-like activities, including playing instruments and games, hunting, eating and drinking, but the overall purpose was to suggest the folly of man. In the Christian tradition apes were seen as thoughtless, compulsive imitators of human actions, parodies of humanity, displaying gluttony, vanity and foolishness – powerful reminders of the potential within all medieval men and women to engage in depraved acts and sin.
The inclusion of monkeys in the Pilgrimage Window, then, was therefore both a deliberate and conscious choice by the York stained-glass artist. It was believed that apes were so-called as they were said to ‘ape’ the behaviour of human beings – hence the scene is thought to be an apocryphal story or parody of the funeral of the Virgin enacted by monkeys. The monkeys are included to make a serious point and a connection to the broader iconography on the window. The monkey’s funeral ‘apes’ the humility and charity of St Peter overhead, as the devotee’s eye travels between ‘the world’ in the lower margins (that filled with man and sin) and the devotional space of the main lights above (the kingdom of Heaven).
The monkey physicians also mimic the medical profession, combining satire with a serious underlying moral – they echoed the widespread suspicion and disdain for ‘Doctours of Physik’ because it was felt that ultimately only Christ could cure the souls of man. The fox stories, too, have similar allegorical meanings, most commonly highlighting the consequences of lapses in devotion and often appearing in bestiaries and art as a symbol of the sly and sophisticated devil.

2) The Mooning ManThe 12th-century Parish Church of All Saints in Easton-on-the-Hill, just outside Stamford in Northamptonshire, features a wealth of architectural styles from Norman through to neo-Gothic. Yet, as you approach the south porch you may be shocked by the 15th-century stone gargoyle perched on the side of the tower: a ‘mooning’ man! Local legend has it that his proud posterior is pointing in the direction of the stonemason of Peterborough Cathedral, in protest at not being paid.
These types of carvings can be found adorning the exteriors of churches across the country in the form of gargoyles, grotesques and also as ornamental frieze fixtures. Before continuing, here is a short explanation of the differences between their functions: though the word ‘gargoyle’ is often misused as a generic term for grotesque carvings on churches, a true gargoyle is a decorative waterspout that preserves stonework by diverting the flow of rainwater away from the roof and walls of a church to the ground below. On the other hand, ‘grotesques’, while they are similarly stone carvings or sculptures, serve only an ornamental or artistic function, and do not include a spout.
Although it is not entirely clear when this bold ‘artwork’ first emerged, it appears to have coincided with the emergence of the Gothic style or, more specifically, the Perpendicular era (1375–1530), with the majority dating to the 14th century – these include several other examples of male contortionist gargoyles, such as those at Lyndon (Rutland), Colsterworth and Sleaford (Lincs), and at Glinton (Cambs).
Several other mooning grotesques can be found across the British Isles, again dating from the same period. The example at Easton features a rather brazen pose: bent over, bottom in the air, legs spread apart but with his head peering round from the right and the strategically placed hole inserted for the practical purpose of diverting rainwater, rather than to illustrate any anatomical features (of course!), and so his proud posterior officially serves its purpose. It is hardly surprising that mischievous masons could not resist the urge to use such orifices for this purpose and that, by the time of the Easton carving in the 15th century, they were certainly embracing the humour of the secular world without feeling affront.
Yet, explaining the general purpose of these impish figures is a rather tricky task. There is certainly ample evidence that people mooned each other during the Middle Ages as a sign of insult – for example, in ‘The Miller’s Tale’ from Geoffrey Chaucer’s late 14th-century Canterbury Tales, characters Alison and Nicholas trick Absolon into kissing her behind – though admittedly this gesture is not quite the same as mooning.
Many therefore believe the Easton carvings to be ultimately protective or apotropaic – to reflect the contrast between a world outside the church beset by the devil and sin as opposed to the sanctity contained within its walls. The idea is that they were placed to deflect the evil spirits by drawing their attention to these insulting characters. So, perhaps the mooner is proudly cocking a snook at the Devil, though he may equally be intended to shock, amuse, or act as a counter and balance to the religious.

© Lionel Wall www.greatenglishchurches.co.uk

3) Kiss me quick!Among the 14th-century misericords at Chichester Cathedral is an energetically captured carved scene of a musician with a citole (an instrument popular between the late 13th and 14th century, formerly known as a gittern, later remodelled as a violin) who is in the midst of stealing a kiss from a dancing woman or posture maker.
Misericords are the carved timber (usually oak) undersides or ledges of tip-up seats on which ecclesiastics could rest their bottoms in the choirs of English cathedrals and collegiate churches during the Divine Office (this particular seat at Chichester was reserved for the Prebend of Somerley). They first appeared in churches in the early 13th century, with the majority dating from the mid-13th to the late 15th centuries. From the Latin word meaning pity, the name literally translates to their function: a demonstration of mercy, as they were designed to support the sitter in an upright position.
The undersides depict an assortment of figural carvings that could be displayed or concealed depending on the position of the seat. This may explain why, although only seen by medieval clerics, the carvings seldom displayed sacred images of Christ, biblical scenes or the saints, but rather vernacular subjects – scenes from daily life, customs, humour and beliefs that included some crudity but also a great sense of fun, freedom and vigour. Subjects vary widely, but we again see many of the same ‘naughty’ yet allegorical representations occurring here as elsewhere in this article, such as temptations of lust, apes with urine flasks, the Green Man (usually a carving or sculpture of a man’s face surrounded by or made from foliage), birds and beasts, abstract foliate designs and medieval folk tales and legends.
What’s more, many scenes can be interpreted as sermons ‘come to life’, used to instruct common folk on principles of doctrine. While certain figural scenes may at first appear secular, they were actually reminders to their ecclesiastical viewer of his professional responsibility to educate the masses against temptations to sin. The profane and debauched images of the sexual lives of laypeople would prompt the medieval cleric to shun women, have self-control and fear the wrath of God.

© www.misericords.co.uk

4) Full-frontal exposureAlthough the 12th-century Church of St Mary and St David at Kilpeck, Herefordshire, comprises fairly typical architecture, it also hides some extraordinary carvings including writhing snakes and mysterious beasts. But, most extraordinary of all, is one of England’s best-preserved examples of a Sheela-na-gig.
Sheela-na-gigs are figurative stone carvings (occasionally appearing in wood-form on misericords) depicting a naked woman in a seated position with her legs wide, openly exposing her genitalia. The name likely derives from the Irish to mean ‘Sheela of the breasts’. Examples are most often found above doorways and windows on medieval churches and castles in northern Europe, predominantly Ireland and Britain, but also in a few locations elsewhere in Europe, such as the contortionist capital example at the monastery of San Pedro de Cervatos in Cantabria, Spain. Determining their date and place of origin has proved difficult, with many scholars disagreeing over the origins of the figures, as many are believed to have been reused from previous, older structures. However, they appear on churches across the 11th to 17th centuries and were likely first carved in France or Spain.
A fairly strange image to find on a church, you might suggest? Well, though Sheela-na-gigs may seem erotic in nature, it is doubtful these carvings were ever intended to arouse and were actually pagan symbols of fertility as well as warnings against lust and warders or protectors from evil – hence their positions over entranceways. Other opinions are that, given their crude form, Sheela-na-gigs were produced by local amateur carvers and therefore represent folk deities that were associated with life-giving powers, birth, death and the renewal of life. Even so, throughout the past, embarrassed or high-minded churchgoers and clerics often removed, covered or destroyed what they viewed as offensive carvings.

5) Word vomitKnown as the greatest medieval graffiti church in England (and it is, at least, the most extensively studied), the 14th-century Church of St Mary’s at Ashwell in Hertfordshire contains an etching that is believed to be one of the only surviving depictions of Old St Paul’s Cathedral. It records the arrival of the Black Death and Peasants’ Revolt, but it is the Latin inscriptions scrawled across the pillars to which this entry refers.
Varying from popular sayings to pithy comments, one seems likely to have been written by a disgruntled architect: Cornua non sunt arto compugenta sputuo (‘The corners are not jointed correctly. I spit on them’) and seems to date to between 1350 and 1400. Another is a less-than-flattering view of the local archdeacon: Archi(di)aconus Asemnes (‘The Archdeacon is an ass’). Finally, no doubt in a spate of sobriety, a wise-old drunk etched: Ebrietas frangit quicquid sapienta tangit (‘Drunkenness breaks whatever wisdom touches’).
Modern visitors are often captivated by these ‘naughty’ writings on the wall because we expect the medieval era to be more conservative when compared to our own society – but do the things that make us chuckle ever really change…?
Cornua non sunt arto compugenta sputuo (‘The corners are not jointed correctly. I spit on them’). © Matthew Champion
 6) “Look out below – men at stool!”The Church of St Mary in Redcliffe, Bristol boasts a remarkable collection of more than 1,100 ceiling bosses dating from 1330 to 1446 (when much of the vault had to be rebuilt after the spire collapsed) and features a variety of symbolic and mythological subjects including the famous ‘maze’ boss that is actually a model of the church’s transept roof.
Ceiling or roof bosses are carvings crafted in wood or stone specifically to cover the intersection between the stone ribs of vaulted ceilings or where the roof timbers join or meet at an angle. Again, this medieval art form depicts many of the contemporary craftsmen’s favourite subjects: biblical scenes, animals, leaves, flowers and heraldry, but with crude humour often casually sited alongside scenes of everyday life. Curiously, though, very few bosses actually carry a date.
The boss sited under Redcliffe’s tower is the most fascinating of all: it depicts a rather bizarre male exhibitionist with his posterior waving in the air, proudly defecating on all who walk beneath him.
Their purpose was to signal the especially holy parts of the church such as the position of important altars, shrines or chapels. Due to the fact that they are located among the less immediately visible parts of the church building, some scholars have argued that these unseen areas became dens of artistic iniquity for marginalised subjects –  they certainly offer a curious commentary on the mentality of medieval craftsmen! Accordingly, there is little doubt that the Redcliffe ‘man at stool’ was located closer to eye-level than some of the other bosses for shock value – to inspire reflection, the withholding of temptation and to illustrate that the repetition of such incongruous behaviour would lead to one’s own spiritual distortion. Reader, take note!

7) Drinking with the enemySituated above the chancel arch of the Church of St Thomas and St Edmund in Salisbury is a powerful mural that catches the eye of visitors immediately upon entry. Executed in 1475 as an offering of thanks for a safely returned pilgrim, this depiction is believed to be the largest Doom in England.
Doom or Last Judgment paintings were the most commonly painted subject of the medieval parish church and are thought to have once adorned the wall above the chancel arches of most churches across the entire country from the late 11th century. The reason for this was that they were sited at the symbolic point at which the nave of the laity, sphere of the parishioners and world of sin met the holy and consecrated sanctuary reserved for the priest. They present the final judgment of humanity, drawing on imagery from a range of scripture, particularly the Parable of the Sheep and Goats.
A most interesting feature of the Salisbury composition is down in the right-hand corner where a dishonest alewife with a jug in hand hugs a demon, leading to her serving short measures. As a result, her ‘naughty’ act has doomed her to hell for all eternity. It was believed at the time that alewives encompassed a multitude of sins: encouraging idleness and overindulgence, tempting with provocative clothing, and overt displays of wealth, greed and excess, not to mention corruption – ie over-charging customers and watering down the ale (sinful!). They occur on many doom paintings, often giving their tormentors seductive glances, as if looking forward to a diabolical party. They were also standard characters of the medieval mystery plays – again, figures of ridicule, the buxom wench.
An obvious yet literal interpretation of the scene is to emphasise that rank or position counts for nothing on the day of judgment, as all are judged equally according to our sins in the eyes of God. A scroll towards the bottom of the painting reads: Nulla est Redemptio or ‘There is no escape for the wicked’/ ‘There is no redemption’.
Amanda Miller @ Amanda’s Arcadia
Dr Emma J Wells is associate lecturer and programme director in parish church studies at the University of York and an historic buildings consultant. She is the author of the forthcoming Pilgrim Routes of the British Isles (Robert Hale, out 11 October 2016).

Period dramas should not be judged on historical accuracy, say historians

History Extra

Aidan Turner as Ross Poldark in BBC One drama 'Poldark'. Fictional interpretations of the past should be rewarded, says the show’s historical adviser and historian Hannah Greig. (BBC/Adrian Rogers)
In a podcast interview with History Extra, Poldark’s historical adviser, the historian Hannah Greig and Horrible Histories consultant Greg Jenner said dramatists should have the freedom to fictionally interpret the past.
“I don’t think dramatists need to be historians; I don’t think it’s their job,” said Jenner. “I think drama is there to entertain us. Dramatists are there to spellbind us, to make us laugh and cry and fear for our favourite characters.”
Hannah agreed: “In some ways the most important thing is to have great story. That has to be the priority. A historical adviser can help to drive that story forward, informed by what we know about the past, but Greg is probably right that we shouldn’t try to determine what that story is.”
Hannah continued: “The discussion of accuracy is something that crops up a lot on Twitter and in newspapers – it’s a way in which lots of [historical] dramas are judged. As a historian involved in the process I’m always asking myself ‘what does that mean? What are we trying to achieve by creating something that’s accurate?’ Because history is continually being made by new scholarship and by historians.
“So we can think about things being well informed by historical knowledge, but that’s not quite the same issue as ‘have they got everything right?’ And I’m not sure that the second part of that is particularly helpful – ‘oh, is that the exactly the right piece of clothing; is that the perfect period-precise room?’
“For me what’s important are ‘is the narrative meaningful for the time in which it’s set? Are the characters’ motivations informed by the choices that I would understand as being the choices that were faced by the people at the time? Does it carry me emotionally in the way that I might think about the historical past?’
“Those are the issues that really matter to me as a historian, and less so about whether we’ve sourced exactly the right wine glass”.
Drawing a distinction between historical dramas, Greg said: “I tend to think there are different categories for history on television as drama: you have the actual historical events that happened and you’re trying to dramatise those – I think that’s where perhaps there’s more of a burden to get it right or at least be pretty respectful of the truth – or what you think is the truth. And then you have the literary adaptations or the entirely fictional where you invent historical scenarios. For example, Poldark is a literary adaptation from the 1940s.
“So if you’re making a drama about, say the Titanic or the First World War – something where real lives were lost or real stories were felt, where there’s that potency of the real human story – I think then perhaps that’s when there is more of a responsibility to be at least engaging with history.”
Hannah agreed: “Poldark is adapted from a novel so in some ways the burden of responsibility for the production is to make sure that it’s as close an adaptation of that novel as possible. Whereas the Victoria series [on ITV] is about a British monarch, so there’s a responsibility there with the history to ensure that that is a fair interpretation of those real and incredibly important characters in the British past and to tell that history in a significant and informed way.”
Greg went on to say: “History doesn’t fall into three-act structures. Life is complex and difficult to dramatise in such a simplistic ways. Stories have to have very rigid structures and I’m not sure history fits that well sometimes into those structures”.
Hannah agreed: “I think there should be space for us to acknowledge and reward fictional interpretations [of the past] more. I think if we continually have the conversation of accuracy and ‘everything must be accurate’ then it weighs down dramas to become less creative”.
To listen to the podcast interview in full, click here.

Unraveling the Mystery of the Great Pyramid Air-Shafts – Part II

Ancient Origins

The Design There are two air shafts each going out towards the North and the South direction in both King’s and Queen’s chamber. While, the King’s Chamber shafts go all the way to the external surface of the pyramid, out in the open, the Queen’ Chamber shafts are blocked some distance from the external surface. One of the reasons given is that the Queen’s Chamber was initially going to be the where Khufu would be interred but when the plan was changed to move the burial to what is the King’s Chamber, the shafts were blocked and their openings at the Queen’s Chamber were closed and sealed.
Transparent view of Khufu's pyramid from SouthEast. ( CC BY-SA 3.0 )The shafts in the Queen’s Chamber have been up for much speculation. In 1992, an exploratory expedition into the shafts of the Queen’s Chamber was conducted by German engineer Rudolf Gatenbrink via a robotic explorer named after the ancient Egyptian god of war “Wepwawet” or alternatively called “Upuaut”. The robotic explorer found a number of artificial items in the Queen’s Chamber northern shaft such as a hexagonal iron rod with threaded end, indicating it was more recent in history, perhaps left behind by discoverers of the shafts Dixon and others. Other items found were a green grappling hook, a small grey green stone ball and a broken off piece of square wooden slat.
Wepwawet giving scepters to Seti I, found at Temple of Seti I. Wepwawet is often depicted as a bluish or grayish haired wolf or jackal to avoid confusion with Anubis. (Roland Unger / CC BY-SA 3.0 )The Measurements The openings of the shafts in the Queen’s Chamber have the same measurements with regards to height and depth of 21 by 21 centimeters or 8.4 inches by 8.4 inches. Flinders Petrie determined the angles of the northern and the southern shaft, using a goniometer, with northern shaft having a mean angle of 37 ° 28’ and that of the southern shaft having a mean angle 38 ° 28’. The northern shaft runs 190 centimeters or 76 inches horizontally before it turns upwards, similarly the southern shaft runs for 200 centimeters or 80 inches horizontally before turning up.  The southern shaft goes up to 208.66 feet and is blocked by a limestone slate fitted with copper handles on both obverse and reverse sides with a confirmed thickness of 60 mm. “The floors of the shafts are made of flat limestone blocks, the thicknesses of which are unknown.  The walls and ceilings are formed by sections of inverted u-blocks that resemble upside down gutters.  Although it is uncertain what the blocks above and below the shafts look like, the shafts run at a sloping angle through the horizontal layers of the pyramid, so it is believed that the u-blocks and basal blocks rest under and on blocks that are wedge-shaped.”
Opening to the King’s Chamber shaft. Morton Edgar, 1910. ( Public Domain ) Almost a decade after the ambitious “Upuaut” rover project, in 2002, the much hyped “Pyramid Rover” sojourn took place. Unlike the Upuaut rover, the Pyramid Rover was equipped with a drill bit and a camera. After a laborious climb of about 45 minutes, the rendezvous between the rover the limestone slab happened. This whole program was being broadcast live across the world with audience sitting in front of their televisions, waiting with bated breath, while the rover drilled a hole in the limestone slab. Once this was done, the camera was inserted and all that was to be seen was a recess blocked by another slab of unknown proportion and thickness. While the audience were disappointed, for the experts, the seemingly uninteresting view was encouraging. The Queen chamber’s northern shaft was also explored for the first time and it was reported “The ‘door’ appears to be identical to the one in the southern shaft that was already known. The doors are equidistant (65 meters/208 feet) from the queen's chamber. It is the third such block discovered within the shafts of the pyramid.”
The Great Pyramid of Giza as a monument of creation - Part 1: Earth Mathematical Encoding in the Great Pyramid Giza, The Time Keeper of the Ages: Alignments, Measurements, and Moon Cycles Then almost nine years later in 2011, the Djedi rover project was launched, which was a better designed robotic explorer, suitable to move in tighter confines of the southern shaft, given its articulate frame and its ability to expand and contract. The Dejdi rover was also equipped with a camera connected via a snake mount with the ability to bend and “see” behind itself. The project made discoveries such as, it imaged, in passing, what appeared to be workmen’s graffiti or glyphs of unknown meaning. It imaged the reverse side of the first blocking limestone plate, named “Gantenbrink’s Door”.

Gantenbrink’s Door. ( Image Source )It discovered that the fractures on the roof of the shaft ran above the limestone plate and to the other side behind it. The camera also photographed some quarry marks left behind by workmen, “that have not been seen for 4500 years.”
The Purpose Ever since the shafts were cleared of debris and the shafts in the Queen’s Chamber were discovered, claims as to the very nature and purpose of the shafts have remained dubious at best. Unfortunately, no contemporary text or evidence exists from the Khufu’s time that could explain this architectural anomaly. Like many other features in the great pyramid have baffled archaeologists, architects and engineers, the shafts continue mete out the same treatment to anyone who tries to study and interpret their function, symbolism and purpose. 
Queens Pyramids and the Zep Tepi: Primary Planning During the Apex of the Golden Age Ritual Chambers of the Andes: Used in Secret, Near Death Simulations 36,400 BC: The Historical time of the Zep Tepi Theory The shafts were called “air channels” by earlier explorers such as Howard-Vyse, Piazzi Smyth and Flinders Petrie, who thought that these shafts were primitive climate control systems. Another known Egyptologist, Mark Lehner, has stated that these shafts were “gateways” to the stars, to guide the deceased king’s “Ka”. Rudolf Gantenbrink, the inventor and owner of Upuaut rover, rejects the notions of shafts being “air channels” or “gateways” to the stars. The dead have no need for proper air ventilation and the sky is not visible through the shafts from the King’s chamber so they cannot serve their purpose as gateways to the sky and the very fact that other pyramids (both preceding and succeeding the Great Pyramid) lack such shafts, casts shadows over the religious belief theory. Since the Great Pyramid has been stripped of its casing stone, it is not possible to ascertain whether the casing stone blocked the King’s Chamber shafts.
Then there are hundreds of other theories that make fantastic claims fantastic claims of shafts being conduits of power plant, a nuclear generator or an alien construction, a riddle set in stone. Until we discover an edict, a piece of papyrus that could explain the reason behind the shafts, the all theories about their purpose shall remain valid opinions of the experts and it is quite certain we may never be able to get to know their true purpose.
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Top Image:  Great Pyramid of Giza in the rays of the sun. ( CC BY-SA 3.0 )
By Rudra

Unraveling the Mystery of the Great Pyramid Air-Shafts

Ancient Origins


The Great Pyramid of Khufu at Giza near Cairo in Egypt is the last of the surviving Seven Wonders of the World. For more than forty centuries until the 19th century, it was the tallest and the most massive structure ever built by humans. Within itself, it enshrines disciplines of mathematics, trigonometry, engineering and geography. It is also one of the most complex pyramids ever built, with its system of passages, gallery and chambers, which makes it quite unique with respect to the other pyramids in Egypt and elsewhere.

The Great Pyramid has air-shafts or just shafts that lead outwards from both the Queen’s and the King’s chamber. The purpose of these shafts is not very well known. Some experts have theorized that these channels served as passages to let the air flow inside the chambers and keep them ventilated while others have suggested that these shafts merely served as passages for the “Ka” (spirit) of the deceased King to travel to the circumpolar stars, which practically never set, hence immortal.
All Giza Pyramids in one shot. ( CC BY-SA 2.0 )So what were these shafts intended for? Why were these incorporated in the design of the pyramid? There are several questions such as these and many more. In this article, we will delve into the subject of these so-called “air-shafts”, go through their history, design and purpose.
Schematic cross-section of the Great Pyramid. (7 denotes Queen's Chamber and shafts/vents, 10 denotes King’s Chamber and shafts) ( CC BY-SA 4.0 )The HistoryIt’s believed by Egyptologists that the Great Pyramid was originally built to serve as the tomb of the Old Kingdom’s Sixth Dynasty Pharaoh Khufu (Khnum Khufwy) and was sealed with all the funerary equipment and other things needed by the deceased king in the afterlife.

Ivory idol of Khufu in detail. ( Public Domain )
It remained intact for at least a couple of centuries after it was sealed. The Great Pyramid was broken into and deprived of its funerary items along with the royal mummy of Khufu sometime during the overlapping period at the end of the Old Kingdom and the start of the First Intermediate. Not only was the Great Pyramid violated, but also the pyramids of Djedefre, Khafre, and Menkaure were broken into and robbed too. The cult temples of Khufu and Khafra were also vandalized and had most of their statuary broken or carted away. The site of Giza lay in neglected and ruinous state for another two thousand years, though it was briefly revived during the New Kingdom under Thutmose IV, who erected the Dream Stele between the paws of Great Sphinx to avow that his ascension to Kingship was divinely ordained and another thousand years later it was revived as an ancient cult site by the Pharaohs of the XXVI dynasty.
Dream Stele, detail; reproduction at Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum, San Jose. ( CC BY-SA 3.0 )The Sphinx and Great Pyramids of Egypt. (Source: BigStockPhoto)The Giza plateau, already famous as an ancient site by the Roman period, was a popular tourist destination. Accounts left by Greek and Roman travelers such as Herodotus, Pliny the Elder and Strabo, of the Great Pyramid are useful in their own ways but it is interesting to note that the descriptions given by them of the Great Pyramid only talk about the descending passage and the subterranean chamber. Strabo also talks about the swivel door on the entrance to the descending passage on the outside of the Great Pyramid, which had to be lifted to open, and when closed, it lay flush, indistinguishable from the surrounding masonry.
The Star-Shaft Theory of the Great Pyramid - Busted After Decades of Searching, the Causeway for the Great Pyramid of Egypt has been Found Star Shaft Pointing - Busted: Debunking the Star Shaft Theory of the Great Pyramid The Hunt for Treasure and KnowledgeAs per the written history and oral traditions, the first forced entry into the Great Pyramid was conducted by Baghdad Caliph Abdullah al-Mamum. Abdullah al-Mamum was taken in by the tall stories of pyramids containing unaccountable treasure and priceless documents relating to ancient science. For the next thousand years, Great Pyramid had only a few visitors summoning enough courage to go inside its dark and seemingly dreadful passageways.
There was a resurgence of immense interest in Ancient Egypt during the Renaissance Period. In 1638, English astronomer John Greaves visited the Great Pyramid to collect data that would help him get accurate measurement of the Earth with respect to its circumference, dimensions and other geographical properties. He is credited to be the first visitor who undertook the scientific measurements of the Great Pyramid. He published his findings in his book, “Pyramidographia: Or A Description Of The Pyramids In Aegypt”. The book was well received within the academic circles and the subsequent discussions led to speculations about some sort of air ventilation system being present in the Great Pyramid.
George Sandys, an English traveler and a poet, who visited the King’s Chamber in the Great Pyramid in 1610 at least 28 years before Greaves, had noted “In the walls on each side of the upper Room there are two holes, one opposite to another; their ends are not discernable, nor big enough to be crept into; sooty within, and made as they say, by a flame of fire which darted through it.” George Sandys at that time was not sure about structure or purpose of the air-shaft openings and they did not excite him enough to probe any further.
John Greaves also makes mention of the openings of the air-shafts inside the King’s Chamber in his book. He states “This made me take notice of two inlets or spaces in the south and north sides of the chamber, just opposite to one another, that in the north was in breadth 700 of 1000 parts of English foot. In the depth of 400 of 1000 parts, evenly cut, and running in strait (sic) line six feet and farther, into the thickness of the wall; on the south is larger, and somewhat round, no so long as the former, and, by blackness within it, seems to have been a receptacle for burning lamps.” Even though Greaves had a lively discussion with Dr. William Harvey about the quality of air inside the Great Pyramid, (which is presented as a footnote in the later editions of his book), it never occurred to him that the air-shafts might have served as conduits for ventilation inside the building.
Transparent view of Khufu's pyramid from SouthEast. ( CC BY-SA 3.0 )Excavating the PyramidIt was not until two hundred years later, in 1837, when under the supervision of Colonel Howard-Vyse, extensive excavations and explorations were conducted in Giza pyramids. Colonel Howard-Vyse initially thought that channels in the King’s Chamber were conduits to hitherto unknown chambers in the Great Pyramid.  Also, the drawings of Great Pyramid made at that time showed no air-shafts leading outwards from the Queen’s Chamber, as these were discovered much later. On May 15th 1837, when the northern shaft was finally cleared of debris and rubbish that had accumulated in its passageway and by means of boring rods and water, it was confirmed that the shaft directly served as a conduit from the outside to the King’s Chamber.
Scrapbook page containing an annotated photograph showing six men positioned around the entrance to the Cheops pyramid. The page also includes a labeled diagram showing the interior chambers and passageways of the pyramid, and their dimensions. Circa 1860 – 1890 ( Public Domain )The workmen found the opening of the southern air-shaft by going around the pyramid and finding it within the same location on the southern face as they had found the opening on the northern face. Howard-Vyse’s assistant, Mr. Hill found a stone blocking the southern air-shaft and with some effort managed to remove it. “Upon the removal of this block the channel was completely open; an immediate rush of air took place, and we had the satisfaction of finding that the ventilation of the King's Chamber was perfectly restored, and that the air within it was cool and fresh. This is how the shafts in the Pyramid came to be known as air channels, thought to be ancient climate control mechanism built in the design of the pyramid.
Analysis Begins on Cosmic Particles in the Egyptian Bent Pyramid – Will This Help Explain How the Pyramids Were Built? Zep Tepi and the Djed Mystery: Backbone of Osiris - Part I Queens Pyramids and the Zep Tepi: Primary Planning During the Apex of the Golden Age The shafts in the Queen’s Chamber were not discovered until thirty-five years later, in 1872, by Waynman Dixon. “….In that year, Waynman Dixon and his friend Dr. Grant found a crack in the south wall of the Queen's Chamber. After pushing a long wire into the crack, indicating that a void was behind it, Dixon hired a carpenter named Bill Grundy to cut through the wall. A rectangular channel, 8.6 inches wide and 8 inches high, was found leading 7 feet into the pyramid before turning upward at about a 32º angle. With the two similar shafts of the King's Chamber in mind, Dixon measured a like position on the north wall, and Grundy chiseled away and, as expected, found the opening of a similar channel.”

Top Image:  Great Pyramid of Giza at night ( CC BY-ND 2.0 )
By  Rudra

Guidebook to the Ancient Egyptian afterlife

History Extra


A c1285 BC Book of the Dead illustration shows a mummy being prepared for burial while his family lament. (The trustees of the British Museum)

Wearing clean clothes and white sandals, you stand in a long hall supported by columns. On a throne at the far end of the room you see the figure of Osiris, the god of the underworld. You are surrounded by 42 gods, terrifying mummified figures including the Swallower of shades, the Bone-breaker and the Eater of entrails.
In front of you is the god Thoth in the form of a baboon. He sits atop a pair of scales that will very shortly decide your eternal fate. This is judgment day and, should you fail the test, you will experience the agonising second death. But you show no fear because you are a possessor of the Book of the Dead – a tome that contains within its texts the secrets to surviving the afterlife.
You turn to the first of the gods and begin to speak: “O Far-strider who came forth from Heliopolis, I have done no falsehood.” Then you turn to the second: “O Fire-embracer who came forth from Kheraha, I have not robbed...”

Coming forth by dayFor ancient Egyptians, life on earth could be very short, so the rituals surrounding death were an integral part of their culture. Many of the best-known relics from Egypt – pyramids, tombs and mummies – reveal the time and resources that the people of the Nile were prepared to spend to ensure a successful afterlife. Spells or formulae that could aid your path through the next world first appeared on the walls of pyramids during the Egyptian Fifth Dynasty, around 2350 BC. Some 400 years later, in the time of Egypt’s Middle Kingdom, these Pyramid Texts evolved into Coffin Texts that were inscribed on coffins, tomb walls and, sometimes, sheets of papyrus.
It was after 1550 BC that a corpus of spells written and illustrated on sheets of papyrus started to replace Coffin Texts in Egyptian tombs. This is what we now know as the Book of the Dead, though the Egyptians themselves referred to it as the book of “coming forth by day”. The Book of the Dead continued to be used, albeit with evolutions, for the next 1,500 years until great changes in the country undermined many of Egypt’s traditions.
Although we know it as the Book of the Dead, in fact no two books were made the same. “There wasn’t a standard Book of the Dead – every manuscript contained different texts,” explains John H Taylor, expert on the funerary archaeology of ancient Egypt at the British Museum. “There was a pool of texts [around 200] from which you could choose, but no known manuscript contains every known spell. There are some that occur in pretty much every copy of the Book of the Dead and others that are really rare, of which we have only one or two examples.”
The Book of the Dead was widely used, and indeed thousands of examples have survived to the present day. Yet it is clear that such books were not available to all Egyptians. Carefully written and often beautifully illustrated, Books of the Dead would have been beyond the resources of the majority of people. They are only found in the tombs of the upper echelons of Egyptian society. Were they, therefore, not essential? “The Book of the Dead didn’t seem to be something you absolutely had to have,” says Professor Stephen Quirke of the Petrie Museum, University College London. “It was an additional luxury to shore up and reinforce the chance to get eternal life. It was a very dominant, desirable addition to a rich burial.”

In an illustration from the Book of the Dead of Ani (c1250 BC), the god Anubis weighs Ani’s heart against the image of truth to determine his fate – the crucial moment in a dead person’s journey. (The trustees of the British Museum)
After you died, Egyptians believed, your ba (spirit) would depart your body – but only temporarily. The ba would need to return to your remains periodically, perhaps every night, and for this reunion to be successful the body had to be intact. That’s why Egyptians developed a complex process of mummification – because without it your afterlife would be jeopardised.
Halting decomposition was, however, not enough to guarantee that you would prevail in the next world. Your ba would itself face several challenges on its journey – and a Book of the Dead would be an invaluable aid in dealing with these. So the book was often placed in the coffin, sometimes even wrapped up within the bandages of the mummy, ensuring that the words inside would follow you as you encountered the perils of life after death.
There is no doubt that the next world was a dangerous place, haunted by monsters that echoed and exaggerated the wild beasts Egyptians might have encountered in the world of the living. You were, therefore, equipped with spells for fighting off serpents, crocodiles, beetles, snakes and a frightening being known as “the creature that swallows the ass”. You might also encounter some unpleasant henchmen of Osiris, “sharp of fingers”, and the so-called “slaughter place” of the god.
Thankfully, you were provided with the means of fighting off evil, escaping traps,
and avoiding decomposition and decapitation. Another scary prospect was being turned upside down, a fate that would play havoc with your digestive system. For this reason a spell was included in some Books of the Dead “for not eating excrement or drinking urine in the underworld” – a vivid description of some of the horrors that might befall you.

Fearsome deitiesYour ba would have to pass through a series of gates, each of them guarded by a fearsome deity. Your knowledge of the gates and guards was crucial to your advancement, and this information was helpfully contained within the Book of the Dead.
So, for example, when you approached the sixth gate, spell 146 advised you to declaim: “Make a way for me, for I know you, I know your name, and I know the name of the god who guards you – ‘Mistress of Darkness, loud of shouts; its height cannot be known from its breadth, and its extent in space cannot be discovered. Snakes are on it, of which the number is not known; it was fashioned before the Inert One’ is your name.” You would claim the protection of gods and assert your own worth. “Mine is a name greater than yours, mightier than yours upon the road of righteousness,” says spell 144.
The most important test of all would come at the so-called Hall of the Two Maats, where your life on earth would be judged. After answering the questions of the 42 mummified gods in the hall, you would approach the set of scales presided over by the jackal-headed god Anubis. On one scale was the image of truth and on the other your own heart. If you had behaved well in your life then the scales would balance and a rosy future would await you. But if the scales failed to balance, your next appointment would be with the devourer, a nightmarish beast with the head of a crocodile, the body of a lion and the haunches of a hippo. The devourer would consume your heart; you would die the second death and be gone for ever.

An image of the nightmarish beast known as the devourer. This illustration also comes from Ani’s Book of the Dead. (The trustees of the British Museum)
This was far from an appealing prospect – but, thankfully, the Book of the Dead offered a solution in the form of spell 30B: “O my heart of my mother! O my heart of my different forms! Do not stand up as a witness against me, do not be opposed to me in the tribunal, do not be hostile to me in the presence of the Keeper of the Balance.”
As John H Taylor explains: “Even if you had lived a bad life you could get away with it by using this spell, which prevents your heart from spilling the beans to the gods. This was the first time in history when you see the idea that your fate after death was dependent on your behaviour when you were alive. However, it was not carried through to its logical conclusion – because you could cheat your way around that particularly tricky moment.”
Once you had navigated your way through these difficult situations, where exactly would you want to end up? “There is no single goal in the Book of the Dead,” explains John H Taylor. “It is a collection of texts that contains spells and texts from different periods and different localities in Egypt. They’re all a bit contradictory so there are actually several different possible end points you could reach on your journey.”
One possible destiny would be to sail across the sky every day with the sun god Ra in his boat. A second option would be to live in the underworld with its resident god, Osiris. But the place that you would most like to visit was the Field of Reeds, an idealised version of Egypt in which you could continue many of your earthly activities. Ploughing, reaping, eating, drinking and copulating are all explicitly mentioned in Book of the Dead descriptions of this tempting place.
The Field of Reeds was undoubtedly somewhere with strong agricultural connections, a theme that Stephen Quirke believes recurred throughout Egyptian ideas of death. “Egypt was an urban society but farming was still the mainstay of the country,” Quirke says. “Part of the way that death was illustrated was through the agricultural cycle. You locked into the sun, which was the dominant source of light, energy and warmth. It dictated the agricultural year, which was central to this farming economy. You also locked into the earth, where the idea that you went to the ground to die and could be resurrected was linked with the notion of agricultural and plant regrowth. These are very organic ways of looking at life.
“Then there is the Field of Reeds,” Quirke continues, “which, in the way I read it, is more like a marsh. If you think of the Nile flooding often, then farming would often be a marshy experience. One of the most famous illustrations from the Book of the Dead is a scene of the Field of Reeds where dead people are happily reaping corn at miraculous heights”.
Sometimes, though, all this sowing and reaping might seem a bit too much like hard work. For this reason the Book of the Dead provided you with a useful solution. You would often be buried with a small figurine known as a shabti to whom you would delegate labours in the next life. Spell 6 requested that the shabti would take your place when you were tasked with “making arable the fields”, “flooding the banks” or “conveying sand from east to west”. With this little helper busily doing the work that might have inconvenienced your afterlife, you would be free to enjoy your eternal paradise.
Rob Attar is editor of BBC History Magazine.

Bosworth: the dawn of the Tudors

History Extra

The battle depicted in a 16th-century frieze. (Stowe House)

Wales, 7 August 1485. As the sun lowered beneath the horizon across the Milford estuary, a flotilla of ships drifted across the mouth of the Haven. It had been a week since the fleet had sailed from the shelter of the Seine at Honfleur, but the ships had made fast progress in the balmy August weather. Onboard, the soldiers waited. They included a rabble of 2,000 Breton and French soldiers (many only recently released from prison and, according to the chronicler Commynes, “the worst sort… raised out of the refuse of the people”). There were also a thousand Scottish troops and 400 Englishmen, whose last sight of the country had been two years previously, when they had fled in fear of their lives. The ships entered the mouth of the estuary where, looking leftwards, the dark red sandstone cliffs, several hundred feet in height and impossible to scale, gave way to a small cove hiddenrom sight from the cliffs above. High tide had passed an hour previously, enabling the ships to creep silently to the edge of the narrow shoreline, allowing the troops to disembark. Their arrival stirred no one. The waters soon clouded with sand as the men began to heave cannon, guns and ordnance from the boats, leading horses from the ships and onto land. From one of the boats stepped a 28-year-old man. Pale and slender, above average height with shoulder-length brown hair, he had a long face with a red wart just above his chin. Yet his most noticeable feature to those who met him was his small blue eyes, which gave out the impression of energy and liveliness whenever he spoke.  Stepping from his boat, the man took a few steps forward on land upon which he had last set foot 14 years before. Kneeling down in the sand, he took his finger and drew a sign of the cross, which he then kissed. Then, holding up his hands to the skies, he uttered words from the first line from the 43rd Psalm: “Judge and revenge my cause O Lord,” which the soldiers now began to sing. As the words of the psalm echoed around Mill Bay in the darkening evening, one line in particular must have stood out above all others: “O deliver me from the deceitful and unjust man.” 
Henry VII pictured at the the Tower London, in a contemporary illustration. (Topfoto) Moment of reckoningThe journey across Wales to win a kingdom had only just begun. For Henry Tudor, his arrival to claim the crown of England was the end of a journey that had lasted his whole life. The moment of reckoning had arrived. The remarkable rise of the Tudors to prominence is shrouded in fable. Long before Henry Tudor’s landing in 1485, the family had nearly driven itself into annihilation due to their support of Owain Glyndwr’s disastrous rebellion in 1400. It would take a scandalous affair to trigger a remarkable turnaround in the Tudors’ fortunes.  Owen Tudor was a household servant in Henry V’s court. After the king’s premature death, his widowed queen, Katherine of Valois, took a shine to the handsome Welsh page, supposedly after he had drunkenly fallen into her lap dancing at a ball. Their illicit union, later formalised by a secret marriage, produced several children, including Edmund and Jasper Tudor, recognised by Henry VI as his half-brothers when he created them the earls of Richmond and Pembroke. Edmund had his own ambitions for self-enrichment: his means would be marriage, namely to the wealthiest heiress in the land, Margaret Beaufort, the sole inheritor of the Beaufort family fortune, who had her own claim to the throne. Margaret was just a child, but when it came to marriage, land took precedence over love for Edmund. Aged just 12, Margaret found herself pregnant. Edmund, however, would not live to see the birth of his heir. Although Edmund Tudor is reported to have died of the plague, this obscures the fact that he had been recently arrested by adherents of the king’s rival, Richard, Duke of York; his treatment in prison, many suspected, hastened his death. Already divisions between the houses of Lancaster and York had been exposed to full glare at the first battle of St Albans in 1455, where Jasper Tudor himself witnessed the Lancastrian king Henry VI being injured in the fight. Civil war would soon erupt as the Duke of York claimed the throne for himself. With Edmund’s death, Jasper Tudor would assume the mantle of the head of the family. He had Margaret swiftly married to Henry Stafford, the second son of the wealthy Duke of Buckingham. But any newfound stability was to be short-lived. Despite an attempt at reconciliation, factionalism between the Lancastrian court and York’s supporters erupted into open warfare in the late 1450s and into 1460, when the Yorkists secured a crushing victory at Northampton, capturing Henry VI. York was declared Henry’s successor, only for a dramatic reversal in fortune when the duke was executed after the battle of Wakefield in December 1460. York’s son and heir, Edward, Earl of March, wreaked his revenge two months later when, at the battle of Mortimer’s Cross in early 1461, he routed the Lancastrian forces, killing 3,000 Welshmen. One of the victims was an elderly Owen Tudor, who was executed at the market cross in Hereford, his last words reportedly being “That head shall lie on the stock that was wont to lie on Queen Katherine’s lap”. Jasper was forced to flee, promising to avenge his father’s death “with the might of the Lord.” Vengeance would be a long time coming. Edward’s crushing victory at the battle of Towton a month later heralded a decade of Yorkist rule, as Edward acceded to the throne as Edward IV. In exile first in Wales and later France, Jasper was stripped of his earldom, while his young nephew Henry was placed in the charge of the new Earl of Pembroke, William Herbert, where he was brought up at Raglan Castle, under the care of Herbert’s wife, Anne. His mother, Margaret, paid occasional visits to her son. However, mother and son weren’t reunited until 1470, when the defection of Warwick ‘the Kingmaker’ forced Edward IV from power and returned Henry VI to the throne. Margaret could now pay for a bow and sheaves of arrows to keep Henry amused. She even arranged for an audience with Henry VI, who is reported to have foretold that Henry Tudor would one day inherit the kingdom. Jasper was restored to his earldom and given extensive powers under the restored Lancastrian regime, but it was not to last. In March 1471, Edward IV launched a remarkable comeback, returning from exile in Holland. Within the space of a month, two critical battles at Barnet and Tewkesbury resulted in the deaths of Warwick, Margaret Beaufort’s husband Stafford and Henry VI’s son Prince Edward, shortly followed by Henry VI’s own suspicious end in the Tower. The Lancastrian dynasty had run into the sand. Through the brutal consequences of war, Henry Tudor was rapidly becoming one of the last remaining members of the royal family, although his claim to the throne was hardly taken seriously at the time. Blown off courseAfter the crushing defeat of the Lancastrian forces at Tewkesbury, Jasper had no choice but to flee into exile again. This time, sailing in a small boat from Tenby bound for French shores where he hoped to enlist the support of Louis XI, he took his 14-year-old nephew Henry with him. Yet when a storm blew them off course, they found themselves washed up on the shores of Le Conquet in neighbouring Brittany. At the time, Brittany was an independent duchy separate to France and relations between the two were openly hostile, perfectly understandable given French ambitions to unite the two countries.  The Breton ruler, Duke Francis II, recognising the value of the Tudors as diplomatic pawns, welcomed Jasper and Henry to his court. Francis understood that these new arrivals could be used to bargain with Edward IV, who was desperate to have both returned to England. He remained determined to keep both under close supervision, separating uncle and nephew, with Henry sent to the isolated Tour d’Elven, where he was imprisoned on the sixth floor of its keep. Henry’s exile in Brittany over the next 14 years would be spent as a prisoner, albeit with household expenses totalling £2,000, along with £620 for his own personal use.  Edward IV made repeated failed attempts to entice Francis to hand over the Tudors. In 1476, he persuaded the duke that he intended for Henry to marry his daughter Elizabeth and requested his return. Francis fell for the trap and Henry was taken to St Malo, ready to be boarded onto a ship to transport him back to England. But Henry feigned illness and, in the ensuing delay, managed to escape into sanctuary in the town.  Edward IV’s death in April 1483 marked a turning point in Henry’s fortunes. Following the mysterious disappearance of Edward V and his brother in the summer of 1483, together with Richard III’s seizing of the crown, a massive rebellion led by the Duke of Buckingham broke out in October 1483. Spurred on by his mother, Margaret Beaufort, who appears to have been strongly involved with the organisation of the rebellion, Henry decided to sail to the English coast with a fleet of Breton ships in the hope of invading. But the rebellion collapsed and, with Buckingham’s execution, Henry had no option but to return to Brittany.  
Henry VII's seal, depicting the monarch riding into battle. (Mary Evans) Silver liningsHenry’s aborted attempt to claim the crown may have ended in disaster, but its consequences were to prove highly advantageous. Hundreds of exiles fleeing from England soon arrived at Henry’s ‘court’, many of whom were former household men of Edward IV, distraught at Richard’s usurpation. They had now switched sides, backing the Lancastrian Henry Tudor. Henry also pledged an oath on Christmas Day 1483 to marry Elizabeth of York, Edward IV’s eldest daughter, thereby uniting the houses of Lancaster and York.  But Henry’s time in Brittany was soon to be cut short. When Richard offered to provide a force of several thousand archers to aid Brittany in their conflict with France, in return Henry and Jasper were to be arrested. Henry was tipped off about the plan with just hours to spare and managed to flee to France where he was received by the French court of Charles VIII. As a pawn in the diplomatic chessboard played out between France, Brittany and England, Henry’s arrival was a gift for the French regime, who agreed to equip Henry with money, ships and mercenaries “of the worst sort” to launch an attack on Richard. At the last moment, though, they held back on their promises of funding, forcing Henry to borrow from brokers in Paris. He set sail with his army on 1 August 1485.  Richard III was reportedly “overjoyed” at news of Henry’s landing. Yet, as Henry’s march along the coastline of Wales went unhindered, Richard grew nervous, becoming suspicious of the involvement of Henry’s step-father, Thomas Stanley (who had become Margaret Beaufort’s third husband), and his brother Sir William Stanley in the lack of resistance to Henry’s growing band of men as he travelled through north Wales and to the gates of Shrewsbury. The key defections of Welsh landowner Sir Rhys ap Thomas and Sir Gilbert Talbot provided Henry with the momentum he needed to push forward towards London, planning to march down Watling Street, the current-day A5.  Richard had spent the summer at Nottingham, waiting to see where Henry might land, but now he hurried down to Leicester where he amassed a force of some 15,000 men – at the time, one of the largest armies ever assembled on one side. On 21 August, both armies drew closer, camping the night overlooking the marshy terrain known as ‘Redemore’ near the villages of Dadlington, Stoke Golding and Upton.  Still, Henry could not be sure of the Stanleys’ final support at Bosworth. Suspecting treachery, Richard had kept Thomas Stanley’s son, George Lord Strange, imprisoned as a hostage to ensure his father’s good behaviour. Henry held a clandestine meeting with both brothers the night before, and when morning came, Stanley refused to march his forces into line, preferring to remain upon the brow of the surrounding hills, between both armies. Richard, meanwhile, had slept badly, supposedly haunted by nightmares. He woke to find that his camp was unprepared to hear mass or eat breakfast. As both sides lined up for battle in the early hours of 22 August, it was clear that Richard’s army was vastly superior, with his “countless multitude” of men. In contrast, Henry had at best 5,000 men, of which his French mercenaries had to be kept apart from his native soldiers, for fear of them falling out. Henry’s vanguard was led by the Earl of Oxford, the Lancastrian commander who had managed to escape imprisonment to join Henry in France. Oxford’s expertise saw Richard’s vanguard routed and the death of its commander, the elderly Duke of Norfolk. By now, Richard had begun to realise that many on his own side, particularly those led by the Earl of Northumberland in his rearguard, were standing still, refusing to fight. He was offered the chance to flee yet refused, preferring to fight to the death.  Spotting Henry at the back of the battlefield, surrounded only by a small band of soldiers, Richard charged on horseback towards its ranks. After unhorsing Sir John Cheney, at 6ft 8ins one of the tallest soldiers of the day, Richard’s men managed to kill Henry’s standard-bearer, Sir William Brandon, while Richard’s own standard-bearer, Sir Percival Thirlwall, had both his legs hacked away beneath him.  With Henry fearing imminent death, the sudden charge of Sir William Stanley’s 3,000 men saw Richard swept into a nearby marsh, where he was killed as the blows of the halberds of Henry’s Welsh troops rained down on him. Thanks to Richard’s remains having recently – and finally – been discovered under a Leicester car park, we know that the king suffered massive trauma to the head, including one wound which cut clean through the skull and into his brain. With the king dead, after two bloody hours the battle was over: on the nearby ‘Crown Hill’, Henry was proclaimed king by Thomas Stanley.  Two months later, Henry was officially crowned Henry VII at Westminster Abbey. The following January, he married Elizabeth of York, thereby fulfilling his promise to unite the houses of Lancaster and York. After decades of uncertainty and exile, the Tudor dynasty was finally born.     Three notable figures in Henry VII’s life  Jasper Tudor  The loyal uncle of Henry Tudor – it was through Jasper’s care and devotion that the Tudor dynasty was born. The second son of Owen Tudor, Jasper found himself embroiled in the civil wars as he defended his half-brother Henry VI. When Henry lost the throne, Jasper went into exile, taking his nephew with him. He remained a constant presence in Henry Tudor’s life, his loyalty rewarded after Bosworth with the dukedom of Bedford.  John de Vere, Earl of Oxford  A stalwart Lancastrian, whose father and brother had been executed by the Yorkists, the Earl of Oxford came to prominence at the battle of Barnet in 1471 when, on the cusp of victory, his troops were defeated by Edward IV after they became confused in the mist and began attacking their own side. Oxford fled, only to reappear three years later when he seized St Michael’s Mount. In 1484, he joined Henry in exile in France. Making the journey to Bosworth, Oxford was placed in command of Henry’s vanguard. His military knowledge – in particular manoeuvring his troops to ensure that the sun and the wind were against Richard’s forces – may have proved critical in winning the battle.  Margaret Beaufort Henry Tudor’s “dearest and most entirely beloved mother”, Margaret was barely a teenager when she gave birth to her only son. Suspected to be one of the driving forces behind Buckingham’s rebellion, she encouraged her son to invade, sending money and support. After Henry’s assumption of power, Margaret became one of the most important figures at court. She died two months after her son.  Chris Skidmore is an author, historian, MP for Kingswood and vice-chairman of the All-Party Group on History and Archives.

1,000-Year-Old Viking Sword Discovered in Iceland by Men Hunting Geese

Ancient Origins


A group of hunters tracking geese in Skaftárhreppur, South Iceland, brought back more than just birds on their latest trip – they found a 1,000-year-old Viking sword lying completely exposed in the sand. The double edged sword is in a remarkable condition considering its age.

“Meant to go to a goose area, but ended up finding a sword that I think once belonged to [Viking settler] Ingólfur Arnarson,” Árni Björn Valdimarsson posted on his Facebook page .

Credit: Árni Björn Valdimarsson Ingólfur Arnarson was the first Norseman to settle in Iceland and live out the remainder of his life there. According to the Icelandic Book of Settlements, ‘Landnama’, Arnarson arrived with his wife in 874 AD. Records state that when he saw Iceland ahead of him, he left it in the hands of the gods to decide which part of the landmass he should settle.  

“He then threw the carved pillars of his high seat overboard and swore that he would build his farm wherever they came ashore,” reports The Saga Museum . “After having thrown them into the water, Ingólfur came ashore at what was subsequently known as Ingólfshöfði, where he raised a house and spent his first winter. He sent out two of his slaves, Vífill and Karli, to look for the carved pillars. They searched along the coastline for three years before finally locating them in a large bay in the southwest of the country… Ingólfur moved to the place where the pillars came ashore. He called the place Reykjavík (literally ‘steam bay’) because of the large amount of steam that rose from the nearby hot-springs.”

A painting depicting Ingólfr Arnarson, the first settler of Iceland, newly arrived in Reykjavík ( public domain )According to Grapevine.is, the newly-discovered sword was passed to The Cultural Heritage Agency of Iceland, which will now carry out further testing and preservation work on the sword.

“We date the sword at this stage to circa 950 AD or even prior to that,”  the agency’s director general Kristín Huld Sigurðardóttir told RT.com. “We are very excited here as this is only the 23rd sword from Viking times found in Iceland.”

Last year, another Viking sword was discovered, that time by a hiker in Norway.  The 1,200-year-old weapon was pulled out from underneath some rocks. Researchers speculated that, due to the high cost of extracting iron, the sword likely belonged to a wealthy individual and would have been somewhat of a status symbol, to “show power”. Viking swords often had handles that were richly decorated with intricate designs in silver, copper, and bronze. The higher the status of the individual that yielded the sword, the more elaborate the grip.
While both these sword discoveries are rare and exciting, they do not bear the mark of a Viking Ulfberht sword.  The super strong Ulfberht swords, of which about 170 have been found, were made of metal so pure that scientists were long baffled as to how they mastered such advanced metallurgy eight centuries prior to the Industrial Revolution.
An Ulfberht sword displayed at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg, Germany. (Martin Kraft/Wikimedia Commons) Top image: The 1,000-year-old Viking sword discovered in Iceland. Credit: The Cultural Heritage Agency of Iceland.

By April Holloway 

September 11 - Remembering the fallen

7 things you (probably) didn’t know about Henry VIII's flagship the Mary Rose

History Extra

Henry VIII's Mary Rose (© 19th era/Alamy)

• For 34 years the Mary Rose was Henry VIII’s flagship. Faced with the threat of the French navy and a strong Scottish fleet, Henry started building up his naval firepower as soon as he became king. Built in Portsmouth, the Mary Rose was launched in 1511.
• The Mary Rose first saw battle in 1512, in a naval operation with the Spanish against the French. The English attacked the French and Breton fleets in the English Channel, while the Spanish attacked them in the Bay of Biscay. The ship also helped escort English troops over to France when, in 1522, the countries went head to head once more.
• There were 415 crew members listed on board the Mary Rose in 1513, but during wartime operations there would have been more on board – numbers could have reached around 700 in total, says the Mary Rose Museum. Even with the normal crew size of around 400, conditions would have been very crowded. Most people on board were in their late teens or early twenties.
• The Mary Rose sank in July 1545 in the battle of the Solent. Hundreds of men aboard the ship drowned, and only around 25 survived. There could be a number of reasons why she sank while turning: human error, overloading, a gust of wind that made the ship unstable, or a cannonball fired by the French. The most likely reason for the loss of the ship was human error, says the Mary Rose Museum.
• The ship was discovered in May 1971, and raised in 1982. As the Mary Rose sank into very fine silt, much of the ship and the items on board – including tools owned by onboard carpenters, ointments and medicine flasks used by the surgeon, and a large number of wooden dishes – are very well preserved.
• The remains of a small dog named Hatch were found on board the ship. Although he can’t be attributed to a specific breed, most of which originated after 1545, he is classed as a terrier-type, most closely related to the Jack Russell. Hatch's remains went on display four years ago at the Mary Rose Museum.
• Approximately 19,000 artefacts have been recovered from the wreck site, which has taken more than 30 years to excavate. Now in the final stages of conservation, she today sits in the Mary Rose Museum in Portsmouth.