History

Over the past six months, archaeologists from Museum Odense have uncovered more than 50 remarkably well-preserved Viking skeletons in the village of Åsum, located east of Odense in southern Denmark. These finds shed light on the daily lives of the people who lived in the area during the 9th century, when Gorm and Thyra reigned in Jelling, providing further evidence of the vast distances Vikings traveled to trade.

According to Michael Borre Lundø, an archaeologist and museum inspector from Museum Odense, the artifacts discovered alongside the skeletons suggest that Vikings engaged in far-reaching trade networks.

“This discovery offers extraordinary opportunities to perform a wide range of scientific analyses, which can reveal more about the general health, diet, and origins of those buried,” said Lundø, in a statement.

Viking burial ground discovered in Åsum, Odense, Demark. (Museum Odense)

Elite and High-status Burials in Viking Denmark

Several of the individuals buried in Åsum appear to have held high status, as indicated by the elaborate grave goods found with them. Among the most notable discoveries is a woman who was buried in what appears to be the remains of a Viking wagon, possibly one she had traveled in during her lifetime.

The woman was laid to rest with an array of personal items, including an elaborate glass bead necklace, a knife with a handle wrapped in silver wire, and an iron wrench. Interestingly, a small shard of glass—possibly used as an amulet—was also found among her belongings.

At the foot of her grave was a finely decorated wooden box, though its contents currently remain a mystery.

Another grave contained a variety of objects as well, including a small bronze three lobed brooch, a single red glass bead that likely hung around the neck of the deceased, an iron knife, and a piece of rock crystal.

The crystal is of particular interest as it is not native to Denmark and likely originated from Norway. Lundø explains that these foreign objects demonstrate the extensive trade connections Vikings maintained with distant regions.

Bronze, three lobed brooch discovered in one of the graves. (Museum Odense)

Asum and Odense: Urban Formations, Cross-Distance Networks

The discovery of this burial ground also highlights the importance of Åsum during the Viking Age. Archaeologists believe that the settlement played a central role in regional development and may have been crucial to the early formation of what would eventually become the city of Odense, reports CBS News.

The burial site, which spans approximately 2,000 square meters (21527.82 square feet) on Åsum’s southern outskirts, dates back to the 800-900s and includes both traditional burials and five cremation graves. Its size places it among the largest Viking burial grounds found on the island of Funen.

Exceptional Preservation

The exceptional preservation of the skeletons has led archaeologists to believe that they will be able to extract DNA samples for scientific analysis. This could potentially uncover whether some of the buried Vikings were related, a line of inquiry that has not been explored in previous grave discoveries, according to Borre Lundø.

50 well-preserved skeletons have been exposed in the burial ground. (Museum Odense)

“It will be incredibly exciting to learn where these people came from and whether the same families were buried here across multiple generations,” said Sarah Croix, associate professor at Aarhus University in Denmark.

“Normally when we excavate Viking graves, we’d be lucky if there were two teeth left in the grave besides the grave goods. But here we have the skeletons fully preserved. The skeletons are so amazing. They are so well preserved. There are five fingers, five toes. And that opens up a whole new set of possibilities for discoveries,” added Lundo, as quoted by Reuters.

This excavation was conducted as part of preparations for Energinet’s work on modernizing the local electricity grid. Through their findings, the archaeologists have gained new insights into Åsum’s significance during the Viking Age, revealing its role as a pivotal location in the early urbanization of the region that would eventually grow into Odense.

“It’s fascinating to imagine that the Vikings were undoubtedly aware of the nascent urban development that took place just five kilometers west of where they lived, then known as Odins Vi. Their descendants witnessed the cementing of Odense as a town, while Harald Bluetooth constructed one of his ring continues — Nonnebakken — south of the river as part of his effort to unify the kingdom,” explained Lundø.

Recent Viking discoveries in Denmark  include the unearthing of nearly 300 silver coins, believed to be over 1,000 years old, found in 2023 near a Viking fortress site in northwestern Denmark.

Top image: 50 well-preserved skeletons have been exposed in the burial ground.          Source: Museum Odense

By Sahir Pandey

By Simon Rodway/The Conversation

Ireland and Wales share more than just geographical proximity; they have deep cultural and linguistic connections. And this year marks the centenary of a groundbreaking work which explored the relationship between the two countries.

Ireland and Wales: Their Historical and Literary Relations was written by the Irish scholar Cecile O’Rahilly in 1924. Her legacy in the field of Celtic studies continues to resonate, 100 years after her book was first published.

Common Celtic Roots

The Welsh and Irish languages are close relatives, descended from a common Celtic ancestor. It seems plausible, if much less open to proof, that the Irish and Welsh also inherited cultural and literary features from their Celtic-speaking ancestors.

One striking example is the role of the professional praise poet, a revered figure in both Irish and Welsh societies. Classical authors note that poets in ancient Celtic Gaul (present-day France, Belgium and Luxembourg, as well as parts of the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland and northern Italy), held a similarly esteemed position.

The word for “poet” in Gaulish,  bardos, shares its roots with the Middle Irish word  bard and the Welsh  bardd. It’s a linguistic link that underscores their shared cultural heritage.

Irish literature offers vivid examples that closely mirror classical descriptions of ancient Gaulish society. Notably, warriors were said to keep severed heads as trophies and fierce competitions to the death at feasts determined who would claim the choicest cut of meat. These examples led to the theory that a relatively uniform Celtic culture once spanned the Celtic-speaking regions of antiquity, with Ireland preserving these traditions the longest, partly due to the fact it never became part of the Roman Empire.

Wales, on the other hand, was profoundly altered by its absorption into the Roman province of Britannia. The medieval Welsh adopted the Trojan Brutus as their ancestor, and idolized the Roman general Magnus Maximus.

The Lasting Celtic Connections

The Welsh word  Gwyddel (Irishman) derives from  gŵydd (wild), and so literally means “savage”. The gulf between Irish and Welsh was facilitated by the fact that major phonological (the sounds in a particular language) changes to both languages obscured their historical relationship. No doubt the 7th-century Irish who borrowed the Welsh word  Gwyddel as a term of self-definition (it gives us  Gael today) were blissfully unaware of its original meaning.

Ogham stone, Kilkalmedar, Ireland. (nyiragongo /Adobe Stock)

Despite the fact that the medieval Welsh saw the Irish as being just as alien as the English, they were in frequent contact with them. There were Irish-speaking communities in parts of Wales, until the 7th century, as can be seen principally from bilingual inscriptions carved into stones in Irish and Latin.

Welsh churchmen such as the family of Sulien of Llanbadarn Fawr, 11th-century bishop of St Davids, were educated in Ireland. And Gruffudd ap Cynan, king of Gwynedd from 1081 until his death in 1137, spent his youth exiled in Ireland. He returned to north Wales with Irish soldiers to reclaim his throne. Day-to-day commerce across the Irish sea is also reflected in both Welsh and Irish literature.

Cecile O’Rahilly

Born in 1894 in County Kerry, O’Rahilly’s academic journey began in Ireland but her work soon took her to Wales, where she won a scholarship to pursue a master’s degree at Bangor University. She submitted an essay to the National Eisteddfod Welsh cultural festival in 1920 and ended up winning. The essay was the seed that grew into her seminal book, which explored the complex relationship between Ireland and Wales during the Middle Ages.

She remained in Wales, teaching French at a number of different schools, until 1946 when she took up a post at the Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies. She later became a professor there, the first woman to hold the post. O’Rahilly lived in the Irish capital with her Welsh companion Myfanwy Williams until her death in 1980. She is best known today as the editor of the epic Irish saga Táin Bó Cúailnge (the Cattle-Raid of Cúailnge), released in 1967.

O’Rahilly did not return to the question of the relationship between medieval Ireland and Wales in print. Nonetheless, her work was pioneering, but it also opened up debates that continue to this day.

Debates

Among the discussions arising from her work, scholar Proinsias Mac Cana and others, posited plenty of Irish influence on Middle Welsh tales such as Branwen, one of the earliest surviving Welsh prose stories.

But given their shared heritage, some similarities might date back to prehistoric times rather than the medieval period. They could also have arisen by independent generation, or have been independently borrowed into the two traditions from a third source, such as Latin literature, for example. A colleague of mine, Patrick Sims-Williams, has shown that it is difficult, if not impossible, to choose definitively between these possibilities.

The rise of “Celtoscepticism” in the late 20th century has challenged traditional views of Celtic identity, namely that there was no uniform shared culture among Celtic speakers over time and place. It has led to the retreat of individual scholars within Celtic studies departments into their own areas of expertise, rather than broader comparative work.

Scholars like Cecile O’Rahilly, who expertly navigated both Irish and Welsh sources and was fluent in both languages, are increasingly rare. But as new generations of experts explore these connections, the shared heritage of these two nations continues to offer fresh insights.

Top image: Welsh and Irish flags overlapped.   Source: Oleksii/Adobe Stock

This article was originally published under the title ‘Ireland, Wales and the Scholar Who Helped Unravel their Celtic Connections’ b y Simon Rodway on The Conversation, and has been republished under a Creative Commons License.

The names of plants, or phytonyms (from Ancient Greek phytón, ‘plant’, and ónoma, ‘name’, ‘noun’), are a very significant part of the lexicon of a language. They represent not only a relevant ‘specialized vocabulary’, but, when investigated through the analysis of the linguistic procedures implemented by speakers to generate them, tell us a lot about the mindset and culture of a population. The etymological reconstructions of phytonyms often hold surprises and challenges for the Linguists who study them and, once completed, enable them to understand the perspectives of a group of individuals and to document their perception of the world.

The English language has a very rich botanical lexicon, and English plant names often tell us fascinating stories. Their origins are etymologically captivating or conceptually startling. Let’s briefly comment on three of them, which are linguistically unique. 

Carnation

The name of the “carnation” (Dianthus caryophyllus), a perennial flowering plant from Southern Europe, represents an unsolved etymological puzzle of the English lexicon. Attested since the first half of the 16 th century, its origins are quite obscure. Some interpretations postulate that the word can be a sort of misspelling of “coronation”, from the use in the ancient world to intertwine crowns and garlands with carnations during ceremonies and rituals or because the petals of the flower form a shape which reminds that of a crown. This reconstruction sounds quite arbitrary and is based on relatively far-fetched analogical reasonings. An alternative name of the “carnation” is “clove pink”, and people who believe that the original or prevailing color of the flower was ‘pink’ (specifically ‘bright pinkish-purple’) postulate that the word is connected with Middle French carnation (equal to Italian carnagione, from Vernacular Latin carnātio, through its accusative singular carnātionem), indicating, since the 15 th century, ‘the color of the skin and flesh of an individual’, namely their ‘complexion’. A Christian interpretation goes even beyond this and connects the phytonym directly with the Latin word incarnātĭo, ‘incarnation’, indicating God becoming human (‘in flesh’) as Jesus. These explanations work, in a way, if we consider them exclusively linked to the ‘pinkness’ of the “carnation” – but many other colors, like white, yellow, and red, exist for the flower (although some of them were eventually generated by selective breeding). In the time of the possible naming process, carnations were valued for their beauty and sweet scent and extensively cultivated in Normandy. The connection of the English name with (Middle) French, therefore, can be somehow supported by elements of material culture. Despite these hypotheses can provide us with some clues on the origins of the word “carnation”, its etymology cannot be confirmed and remains an enigma of the English vocabulary.

Pink Carnation, watercolour (1620s or 1630s) by Balthasar van der Ast (1593/94-1657), Birmingham Museum of Art, Birmingham, AL, US (Public Domain)

Oleander

“Oleander” is the name of an evergreen flowering shrub (Nerium oleander), also known as “rosebay”, which is as beautiful as it is poisonous. The origins of the denomination of this potentially deadly plant are obscure and their possible explanations circularly revolve around other phytonyms. While “oleander” is attested in English from the end of the first half of the 16 ^th century, the name appears already in Vernacular Latin in the late 14 th century as oleaster, a variant of Medieval Latin oleander, which is another phytonym of uncertain etymology. The element olea- can be connected with Latin ŏlĕa, ‘olive’, ‘olive tree’ – because of a typological resemblance (especially inherent in the leaves) –, which would have been merged with a Late Latin form lorandrum (or arodandrum), possibly derived from Latin rhŏdŏdéndrŏn (from the Ancient Greek name of the majestic woody plant, rhodódendron, literally “rose tree”, from rhódon, ‘rose’, and déndron, ‘tree’ – despite its gorgeous flowers are, naturally, not roses). Lorandrum would have been influenced, in its morphology, by Latin laurĕa, the name of the “laurel” (“bay laurel”, “bay tree”), because of the shape of the leaves of the two plants, which are quite similar. The ideal connections, at the cognitive level, with the rhododendron and the laurel are confirmed by the name of the oleander in French, laurier rose (literally: “laurel rose”). The etymology of “oleander” is an uphill path for the Linguists who try to reconstruct it. The phytonym looks connected with the names of other plants in a sort of ‘onomastic circle’ which underlines the complexity and intricacies of the intellective processes involved in the seemingly simple act of naming.

Oleander Flowers, watercolour (1870s or 1890s) by Johann Heinrich Müller (1825-1894). (Public Domain)

Rubens Peale with a Geranium, oil on canvas (1801) by Rembrandt Peale (1778-1860), National Gallery of Art, Washington DC, US. (Public Domain)

Geranium / Cranesbill

“Geranium” is the name of the genus of hundreds of flowering plants commonly known as “geraniums” and “cranesbills.” The term is attested from the first half of the 16 th century. Despite the plant is well-known for its brightly white, pink, red, and purple flowers, its name doesn’t derive from that feature. “Geranium” comes, indeed, from Botanical Latin geranium, adapted from the Ancient Greek phytonym geránion, a diminutive ( -ion is the diminutive suffix) of géranos, ‘crane’ (cognate, among others, of Old English cran and Latin grūs). The name is in fact ‘analogical’ and derives from the similarity between the shape of the seed pods of a geranium and the head and bill of a crane. The part of the pistil where the ovules reside, called “ovary,” figuratively resembles the ‘head’, while the elongated stigma represents the ‘beak’ of the bird. It is no coincidence, therefore, that a native popular name of the plant, in English, is crane’s-bill or cranesbill. While the etymology of “geranium” is not obscure in itself, its complex cognitive aspects and its naming process based on figurative analogy make the related reconstruction and explanation a very interesting example of the sometimes-uncommon strategies implemented by the human beings to give names to the ‘items’ of their world.

Geranium Seed Capsule. A geranium’s seed pod has been compared to the head and bill of a crane. (BlueRidgeKitties/CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Final Thoughts

Words open a window for us into a universe of knowledge and discoveries. Always. They have complex origins. Always. What we do when we use daily, while speaking, the names of the ‘objects’ of our world is an act as natural as breathing and as ancient as the dawn of language. Etymology, the discipline dealing with the reconstruction of the roots of our words, allows us to unveil the naming process as developed and produced by our ancestors, its remote stages dating back to Prehistory and to the first ‘naming subjects’ (the native speakers of the original proto languages at the origins of most of the languages spoken today) of our civilizations. Among the many ‘lexical items’ which are the substance of our languages, phytonyms allow us to understand the perspectives of those ancestors on some essential and ubiquitous elements of the world which surrounded them in their everyday life – trees, plants, and flowers, indeed – and their perception of them. When we study them, trying to reconstruct their etymologies, we get closer and closer to giving back voice to speakers whose words were not historically recorded, because they were invented and produced in the absence of writing systems, when the technological innovation of writing was not introduced yet. They survive, nonetheless, into the words we use today, transformed, but not irremediably altered over millennia. The analytical reconstruction of the prehistoric origins of specialized lexicons, like the vocabularies of flora and fauna, therefore, allows us to travel in time towards astonishingly ancient ages in the absence of written records.

In this context, the obscurity of the etymology of some plant names adds additional challenges to the operation of their recovery and, at the same time, opens new paths, for Historical Linguists, towards the refinement and enhancement of interpretative tools and hermeneutic directions – ultimately, towards the opening of new linguistic frontiers. It is a journey that seems like it will never end, but a quest that is always worth pursuing.

Top image: The etymology of English Plant Names is a journey through Time and nature. Right: Rubens Peale with a Geranium. Left: Pink Carnation. Source: Public Domain, Public Domain

By Francesco Perono Cacciafoco

Archaeologists and conservators working at the Moche site of Pañamarca in the Nepeña Valley of north-coastal Peru have discovered a pillared throne room with imagery and evidence that it was used by a high-status female leader – likely a priestess or a queen.

In July, the Archaeological Landscapes of Pañamarca research project discovered unprecedented painted architecture at the site. The research project, first founded in 2018, is designed to understand the activities that took place at Pañamarca and its surroundings in the ancient past.

The Remarkable Moche Center at Pañamarca

Pañamarca is the southernmost monumental center of the Moche culture—a society that made their homes in the coastal valleys of northern Peru between about 350 and 850 AD.

Moche archaeology is well known for its rich, elite tombs, impressive architecture and artworks, and elaborate religious artifacts and imagery. Constructed atop a granite hill in the lower Nepeña Valley, Pañamarca consists of an imposing stepped adobe platform, two lower—yet expansive—adobe platforms, a large adobe walled plaza, and numerous other structures including a Formative-period masonry building.

Pañamarca panorama, aerial drone photography. (José Antonio Ochatoma Cabrera/ Denver Museum of Nature & Science)

The current research is a collaboration between Peruvian and US archaeologists, art historians, and conservators with support from the National Geographic Society, the Institute of Latin American Studies at Columbia University, and the Avenir Conservation Center at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science.

Pañamarca is best known for its colorful wall paintings, first published in the 1950s. Found within the plaza and platforms, they depict priests and warriors in procession, battles between supernatural beings, an unusual two-faced man, and scenes of ceremonial activities related to human captives. But a throne room for a queen has never been seen before at Pañamarca, nor anywhere else in ancient Peru.

Moche figure with human body and spider features carrying a goblet, painted on a pillar within the Hall of the Moche Imaginary. (Photograph by Lisa Trever/ Pañamarca Digital and Denver Museum of Nature & Science)

A Throne Room Fit for a Queen

The adobe throne was found within what project director Jessica Ortiz Zevallos has named the “Hall of the Moche Imaginary” ( Sala del Imaginario Moche). It is surrounded by walls and pillars depicting four different scenes of a powerful woman, in some instances receiving visitors in procession and, in another, seated upon a throne.

Prior seasons of the project’s research documented a bevy of painted surfaces within this hall, including paintings of elegantly dressed men and women, warriors with spider, deer, canid, and serpent features, and multiple battles between the Moche mythic hero and his enemies from the sea.

View of the crowned woman with scepter (upper left), procession of men behind her carrying objects (upper right), and textile workshop (below) painted on a wall revealed within the Hall of the Moche Imaginary in 2024. (Photograph by Lisa Trever/Pañamarca Digital and Denver Museum of Nature & Science)

The powerful woman painted on the walls and pillars of the throne room—as well as on the interior surfaces of the throne itself—is associated with the crescent moon, with the sea and its creatures, and with the arts of spinning and weaving.

Painting of the crowned woman raising a goblet, on the exterior of the painted throne discovered within the Hall of the Moche Imaginary in 2024. (Photograph by Lisa Trever/Pañamarca Digital and)

Mural paintings uncovered in July include a rare scene of an entire workshop of women spinning and weaving, as well as a procession of men carrying textiles and the female leader’s crown, complete with her braids

Lisa Trever, professor of art history at Columbia University remarked:

 “Pañamarca continues to surprise us, not only for the ceaseless creativity of its painters but also because their works are overturning our expectations of gender roles in the ancient Moche world.”

Scholars will debate whether the woman painted on the walls of the throne room is human or mythical (a priestess, goddess, or queen). But the physical evidence of the throne, including the erosion to its back support and the recovery of greenstone beads, fine threads, and even human hair, make clear that it was occupied by a real living person—and the evidence all points to a seventh-century woman leader of Pañamarca.

Lisa Trever stands, with research assistants Joseph Senchyshyn and Riley Tavares, behind the painted throne within the Hall of the Moche Imaginary. (Photograph by José Antonio Ochatoma Cabrera/Denver Museum of Nature & Science)

The Hall of the Braided Serpents

The project’s excavations on Pañamarca’s plaza have also revealed a monumental structure that was entirely unknown to prior research. The Hall of the Braided Serpents ( Sala de las Serpientes Trenzadas) was also built with wide square pillars. Many of these pillars were arrayed with paintings of intertwining serpents with human legs—a motif not seen elsewhere in Moche art.

Left; Painted pillar int eh newly discovered Hall of the Braided Serpents. (Photograph by Rick Wicker.) Right; Digital illustration of one the painted pillar. (Image by Michele L. Koons, Jorja García, and Lisa Trever/ Pañamarca Digital and Denver Museum of Nature & Science)

Other surfaces were decorated with images of warriors, anthropomorphized weapons, and a large monster chasing a man. The Hall of the Braided Serpents underwent multiple renewal events that included copious material offerings—most notably textiles—burning events, the careful capping of floors, and the whitewashing of previously decorated walls.

“Perched above the plaza, this hall offered a prominent position—almost like box seats at a theater or stadium—from which to observe the goings-on down below, while it also provided private spaces for its privileged occupants,” explains archaeologist Michele L. Koons of the Denver Museum of Nature & Science.

Preservation and Accessibility

The archaeological intervention at Pañamarca goes hand-in-hand with conservation efforts. Painted architecture is excavated, stabilized, documented, and studied by a highly skilled team of specialists who also combine artisanal practices of pencil and watercolor illustration with state-of-the art methods of three-dimensional digital recordings, to create detailed documentation of the painted architecture and its archaeological information.

Due to their fragility, the mural paintings of Pañamarca are not currently accessible to tourism.

“If left open to the elements without a permanent conservation program on site, the invaluable murals of Pañamarca would begin to deteriorate immediately, as we know happened to the murals first uncovered in the 1950s. Therefore, at the end of each of our seasons, and following the regulations and recommendations of the Ministry of Culture, we cover the excavations to ensure the long-term conservation of this important cultural heritage.” says project archaeologist José Antonio Ochatoma Cabrera.

“We are pleased to be able to invest in the construction of substantial roofs and windbreaks that—together with those built by Peru’s Ministry of Culture—are designed to ensure the preservation of Pañamarca’s painted architecture,” adds project director Jessica Ortiz Zevallos.

“At the same time,” she notes, “our team is working tirelessly to create digital renderings of everything we have uncovered, which we have been sharing in multiple forms—in interpretive panels at the site entrance donated by our project, in scholarly publications and conferences, with national and international media, and in online platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and the website  Pañamarca Digital, launched in 2023.”

The archaeological research program at Pañamarca is supervised by archaeologists and conservators from Peru’s Ministry of Culture headquarters in Lima and the regional office of the Dirección Desconcentrada de Cultura de Ancash.

Top image: Left; Painted architecture within the Hall of the Moche, at Pañamarca, Peru. Right; Painting of the crowned woman raising a goblet. Imagery revealed in 2024.    Source: Lisa Trever/ Pañamarca Digital and Denver Museum of Nature & Science

The article is an edited press release titled, ‘Archaeologists Discover Ancient, Pillared Halls at Pañamarca, Peru, including the Painted Throne Room of a Powerful Moche Woman Associated with the Moon Goddess’ by Pañamarca Digital and Denver Museum of Nature & Science

Post as Ancient Origins

For over a century, the skeletal remains of sailors from Sir John Franklin’s ill-fated expedition to the Northwest Passage were scattered along the rugged shores of an Arctic island. Bleached and battered by the elements, nearly a quarter of these anonymous bones bore the chilling signs of cannibalism, marking a tragic end to one of history’s most famous voyages. Now, after years of meticulous research by Canadian scientists, one of those sailors has been identified, and is Captain James Fitzjames from London, who captained HMS Erebus.

This breakthrough came after researchers isolated DNA from one of Fitzjames’s molars, which was then matched to living relatives. The identification represents a major milestone in the study of Franklin’s expedition, which departed England in 1845 in hopes of conquering the elusive Northwest Passage, and is the subject of a brilliant new study published in The Journal of Archaeological Sciences.

Daguerreotype of Captain James Fitzjames, 1845. (FabTet/CC BY-SA 4.0)

Inuit Oral Traditions: Paving the Way For Discovery

Fitzjames, a Royal Navy officer, had already sailed to destinations like Syria, Egypt, China, and the Americas before commanding HMS Erebus alongside HMS Terror on the fateful journey. However, the expedition ended in catastrophe, with all 129 crew members perishing in the unforgiving Arctic conditions.

Between 1847 and 1859, at least 36 search expeditions scoured the Arctic in hopes of locating Franklin’s lost ships, but all failed. It was only when researchers turned to Inuit oral traditions that the resting places of the Erebus and Terror were discovered within the last decade.

While the wrecks were only recently found, the remains of crew members were discovered much earlier on the southwest coast of King William Island in Nunavut. Search teams came across boats tied to large sleds, seemingly in preparation for a journey toward the Back River.

“What was the plan following the desertion of the ships? Did they travel as a single group? How do we understand the bodies of 20 sailors in this one spot? There are so many questions we still have and we’re trying to get a better understanding of what was happening. It’s challenging and it’s fascinating; no other British polar exploration suffered such a catastrophic loss as the Franklin Expedition,” said Douglas Stenton, adjunct professor of anthropology at the University of Waterloo and lead author on the research, in a press release.

Fitzjames, who captained the Erebus, co-authored the last known message from the expedition, a note discovered at Victory Point on King William Island. The message, dated April 25, 1848, read:

“Sir John Franklin died on the 11th of June 1847 and the total loss by deaths in the Expedition has been to this date nine officers and 15 men … [We] start on tomorrow 26th for Backs Fish River.”

The location where Fitzjames and at least a dozen others died was identified by searchers in the 1860s, who had learned through Inuit accounts that some of the surviving crew had turned to cannibalism. This revelation caused an uproar in Victorian England. It was later partially confirmed in the 1990s when anthropologist Anne Keenleyside found that nearly a quarter of the bones bore marks consistent with human-made cuts.

“The Inuit account of the site [where Fitzjames’s remains were found] had a very graphic description of cannibalistic activity: a huge pile of bones that had been broken and boiled for marrow. We’re not the first archaeologists to be at that site. We’re the last ones. And there’s no evidence of that at the site, of breaking of bones for marrow, and no bone fragments – an ‘archeological signature’. These are the kinds of things that can be challenging to try and reconcile. We’re not about trying to prove somebody’s wrong. We’re just trying to understand what happened,” explained Stenton.

End of Sir Franklin lost expedition to the Canadian Arctic in search of the Northwest sea passage, year 1847. (acrogame/Adobe Stock)

DNA Samples and Diagnostics: Accessing the Relative Gene Pool

Until recently, the identities of these remains were unknown. In 2013, researchers, including Stenton’s team, received permission to retrieve remains from the site, including eight mandibles previously unearthed by Keenleyside. Following a 2017 exhibition on the Franklin expedition in Greenwich, Stenton’s team requested DNA samples from potential relatives as part of their bio-archaeological investigation. The response was overwhelming, with many eager to assist, reports The Guardian.

However, the research required very specific genetic relationships, and so far, about 25 descendants have been profiled. Among the remains, a molar from one mandible, marked by knife cuts, matched one of these relatives: Captain James Fitzjames. Fitzjames is the second crew member to be positively identified. The first was John Gregory, an engineer on the Erebus, whose skull yielded a DNA match in 2021.

A 3D scan of James Fitzjames’ mandible, showing impressions of cut marks consistent with cannibalism. (University of Waterloo/The Journal of Archaeological Sciences)

Recent archaeological digs suggest the crew succumbed to a mix of scurvy, hypothermia, and the dire decision to resort to cannibalism after abandoning their ice-locked ships. For Stenton, these discoveries bring a new, human perspective to the grim mystery surrounding the expedition’s final days:

“They must have faced desperate conditions at that site. What led them to the point where they resorted to cannibalism? This was survival cannibalism, an act of sheer desperation that, tragically, only prolonged their suffering. The level of despair they endured was unimaginable.”

Stenton believes that a diagnostic approach to the evidence has reshaped the understanding of the expedition’s tragic conclusion. While Inuit oral history was crucial in pinpointing the wrecks’ locations—succeeding where 36 other expeditions had failed—some elements of their testimony have been harder to corroborate. Nonetheless, their accounts have proven invaluable in unraveling the mystery of Franklin’s doomed voyage.

Top image: Graves of seamen of John Franklin Expedition from 1845 on Beechey Island, Nunavut, Canada. Buried are three members of the expedition, as well as Thomas Morgan of HMS Investigator who died in 1853 during a research mission, and another unidentified grave. Source: Ansgar Walk/CC BY-SA 2.5

By Sahir Pandey

The Battle of Alesia, fought in 52 BC, was a defining moment in Julius Caesar’s conquest of Gaul. This clash pitted Caesar’s Roman legions against the Gallic tribes united under the leadership of Vercingetorix. The battle took place near the fortified hilltop town of Alesia, where Caesar’s strategic brilliance was put to the test. Using a combination of siege warfare and tactical maneuvers, Caesar managed to overcome a numerically superior enemy, leading to the eventual Roman domination of Gaul. The victory at Alesia not only cemented Caesar’s military reputation but also significantly expanded the Roman Republic’s territory.

Julius Caesar in Gaul

Before we get to the battle itself, some background is needed. Julius Caesar’s campaign in Gaul began in 58 BC. Like many of Rome’s wars, it was fueled by both political ambition and the constant urge to expand Roman influence. Gaul, a region corresponding to modern-day France and parts of Belgium, Switzerland, and Italy, was inhabited by various troublesome Celtic tribes. The tribes spent as much time fighting each other as they did outsiders, and this division made the region ripe for Roman intervention. 

Bust of Julius Caesar. (Museum of antiquities/ CC BY 2.0)

Caesar’s initial involvement was in response to the migration of the Helvetii, a Gallic tribe, but his ambitions quickly grew. Over the next few years, Caesar conducted a series of military campaigns, subjugating one Gallic tribe after another, including the Belgae and the Nervii. His campaigns were marked by a combination of diplomacy, force, and ruthless efficiency. 

By 52 BC, he had largely succeeded in bringing Gaul to heel under Roman control. Yet unrest remained. That unrest was led by Vercingetorix, a chieftain of the Arverni tribe who had emerged as the leader of a massive Gallic revolt. He had managed to do what a few chieftains before him had: unite the Gallic tribes in a last-ditch effort to resist Roman domination. This revolt culminated in the siege of Alesia, where Vercingetorix sought to hold off Caesar’s forces and break the Roman grip on Gaul.

The Warm-Up

Under Vercingetorix, the revolt quickly gained momentum, and Caesar found himself on the back foot. Vercingetorix’s favored strategy was to use guerilla tactics and scorched earth policies to deny the Romans supplies and to draw them into unfavorable terrain. It was a successful tactic, and after several skirmishes, including a significant engagement at Gergovia, where Caesar suffered a rare defeat, Vercingetorix retreated to the fortified town of Alesia.

Vercingetorix Calling the Gauls to Defend Alésia during the Battle of Alesia. (Eunostos / CC BY-SA 4.0)

Alesia was chosen because of its strategic location. It sat on a high plateau that was surrounded by steep hills and the Ose and Ozerain rivers. The Gallic leader believed these natural defenses, combined with the numerical strength of his forces, would allow him to survive a prolonged siege until reinforcements could arrive.

Caesar loved a good siege and recognized the importance of crushing this last significant resistance, so of course he decided to lay siege to Alesia. The stage was set for one of the most extraordinary military confrontations in ancient history, as both leaders prepared for the impending conflict.

Caesar’s Siege of Alesia

The siege of Alesia is often regarded as a perfect textbook example of what a siege should be. Caesar recognized that with its formidable natural defenses, he had no chance of taking Alesia by force, so he opted for the slow, methodical approach. He would starve the city’s defenders into submission.

The Roman leader ordered the construction of a double line of fortifications around the town—a tactic known as circumvallation and contravallation. The inner line, approximately 18 kilometers (11.18 mi) long, was designed to prevent the besieged Gauls from escaping, while the outer line, stretching about 21 kilometers (13.04 mi), was meant to defend against any Gallic reinforcements. Vercingetorix, his men, and the city’s civilians were completely isolated.

The fortifications built by Caesar in Alesia Inset: cross shows location of Alesia in Gaul (modern France). The circle shows the weakness in the north-western section of the fortifications (Muriel Gottrop/ CC BY-SA 1.0)

Caesar’s fortifications included ditches, palisades, and watchtowers, all meticulously planned to resist assaults. It was a massive undertaking, and the Roman soldiers had to travel considerable distances to gather the timber. The Roman legions worked tirelessly to complete these defenses, despite constant harassment from the Gauls, who attacked the workers in sorties.

In the end, the siege didn’t last all that long. Alesia had limited supplies but was supporting not just its normal population for an extra 80,000 soldiers. Vercingetorix had all the city’s grain brought to him, which he rationed. A council was held during which it was decided the soldiers came first. The old and sick were ordered to leave the town. They were then followed by the women and children. 

Foolishly, Vercingetorix expected the Romans to show mercy. Instead, Caesar refused to let the civilians pass through his newly built fortifications, stranding them in no man’s land. For his part, Vercingetorix also refused to show his own people mercy, leaving them to starve out in the open. It wasn’t great for morale.

As this was going on, Vercingetorix sent out messengers to rally a relief force from the Gallic tribes. In response, a massive Gallic army was assembled, estimated to be as large as 250,000 warriors. The siege had lasted just a month, but Vercingetorix was out of time. He had to hope his relief force could break through Caesar’s outer defenses and save Alesia from Roman conquest.

The Battle of Alesia Itself

The Battle of Alesia got underway in early October 52 BC. Vercingetorix’s prayers were answered as his massive Gallic relief force arrived and quickly surrounded Caesar’s outer fortifications. Now it was Caesar’s turn to be trapped, stuck between two enemy forces. Using this to his advantage, Vercingetorix launched a coordinated attack from within Alesia, while the relief force assaulted the Roman lines from the outside. 

Modern recreation of the Alesia fortifications, featuring rows of stakes in front of a moat, a high banked approach, and regular towers for Roman sentries. (Prosopee/CC BY-SA 3.0)

Caesar’s army was outnumbered and stretched dangerously thin. He barely had enough men to defend one front, let alone two. The Roman fortifications were repeatedly tested by the relentless Gallic assaults, but Caesar’s troops, well-disciplined and experienced, held their ground. Caesar himself moved along the lines, boosting the morale of his soldiers, and directing crucial counterattacks. 

At the height of the battle, disaster almost struck Caesar when his western defenses were nearly breached, where the Gallic forces concentrated their efforts. Sensing the danger, Caesar personally led a reserve unit, including his elite Germanic cavalry, to reinforce the position. This decisive action turned the tide of the battle. The Roman cavalry, after repelling the attack, launched a counteroffensive against the Gallic relief force, striking from the rear and causing panic among the Gauls.

Vercingetorix’s relief force disintegrated, ruining the morale of Alesia’s defenders. Their leader realized that resistance was futile and surrendered the following day. His capitulation marked the end of organized Gallic resistance to Roman rule, and the battle of Alesia became a defining moment in Caesar’s rise to power. 

Aftermath

The aftermath of the Battle of Alesia was a turning point in the Gallic Wars and in Julius Caesar’s career. With Vercingetorix’s surrender, the Gallic resistance was effectively crushed, and Gaul became firmly under Roman control. The victory allowed Caesar to complete the annexation of the entire region, integrating it into the Roman Republic. This conquest significantly expanded Roman territory and influence, bringing immense wealth and resources to Rome.

Vercingetorix was taken prisoner and later paraded in Caesar’s triumph in Rome, a public display of his defeat. He was eventually executed, symbolizing the finality of Rome’s victory over the Gauls. Most of his men were given to the Roman soldiers who had participated in the battle as slaves. 

For Caesar, the triumph at Alesia enhanced his reputation as one of Rome’s greatest military commanders. It also set the stage for his eventual return to Rome, where his growing power and influence would lead to a series of events that culminated in the end of the Roman Republic and the rise of the Roman Empire.

Conclusion

Julius Caesar oversaw many great military victories, but the Battle of Alesia was arguably one of his best. It highlighted not just his military genius and tactical acumen but the extreme loyalty and might of his Roman legions. This decisive victory not only secured Roman domination over Gaul but also significantly altered the course of Roman history. 

 The strategic brilliance displayed in the siege and battle solidified Caesar’s legacy as one of history’s greatest military leaders. The fall of Alesia marked the end of organized Gallic resistance, paving the way for Gaul’s integration into the Roman world. The battle’s outcome also propelled Caesar toward the political power struggles that would eventually reshape the Roman Republic into an empire.

Top image: The Battle of Alesia. Vercingetorix Throws Down His Arms at the Feet of Julius Caesar. Source: Public Domain

By Robbie Mitchell

By Ellie Mackin Roberts/The Conversation

This article contains spoilers for series one of Kaos.

Central to the plot of Netflix’s new series, Kaos, are four prophecies. In the lore of the series, all humans are given a prophecy, and no two can be the same. There’s just one problem – all four important prophecies in the show are identical:

A line appears

The order wanes

The family falls

and Kaos reigns.

Each of the prophecy’s four recipients – Zeus (Jeff Goldblum), Riddy (Aurora Perrineau), Caeneus (Misia Butler) and Ari (Leila Farzad) – interprets, and therefore acts upon, the prophecy in a way that makes sense to their own lives. Their connected fates highlight the series’ theme of interconnected destinies and the inescapable nature of prophecy.

By the end of the first series, three of the four lines of the prophecy have come true. A vertical wrinkle appears on Zeus’s forehead, driving his obsession with instilling fear of the gods into mortals once more. A hierarchy shift ends the season with Prometheus sitting on Zeus’s throne, which exemplifies the order waning. The families of each of the three mortal recipients fall apart.

Watching the show, you may have understood the prophecies differently. After all, prophecy is open to interpretation. Or, is it?

Priestess of Delphi by John Collier (1891), depicting Pythia. (Art Gallery of South Australia)

In Kaos, the Fates (who the ancient Greeks called the  Moirai) are responsible for making prophecies about the gods and their followers. There’s Clotho (Ché), who spins the thread of life, Lachesis (Suzy Eddie Izzard), who measures out the thread and Atropos (Sam Buttery), who cuts it off, marking the end of life.

In ancient Greek mythology, the Moirai controlled the destiny of men and – in some instances – gods, but they were not responsible for making prophecies. This task fell to the gods, usually Apollo and Zeus, who made prophecies in response to questions people asked.

As real people couldn’t speak to the gods directly, they went to religious officials known as oracles. The Delphic Oracle, associated with Apollo, god of music and healing as well as prophecy, was the most famous and prestigious of these oracles.

Also known as the Pythia, she was Apollo’s high priestess and was the one who delivered the prophecies (numerous women fulfilled the role over the years). Ancient people believed the Pythia to be directly inspired by Apollo, and her words were taken to be coming from him.

We do not fully understand how this process worked, though there have been suggestions that the Pythia went into a trance through chewing laurel leaves, which were sacred to Apollo. Another theory suggests trances were induced through toxic gasses entering the room within the temple she worked in, through a natural fissure in the rock.

Prophecies in Kaos

It is from literary reports of oracles from Delphi that the format of Kaos’s prophecies derives.

Although historical oracles are usually not poetic, those from literary accounts of history, such as Herodotus’s The Histories, are often presented in hexameter (a kind of poetic metrical meter consisting of six parts per line).

One famous oracle was reportedly given to the Athenians when they were preparing to fight off the Persians:

But a wall made of wood does farsighted Zeus to Tritogenes grant

Alone and unravaged, to help you and your children.

The Athenians debated the meaning of these words, just as the characters in Kaos consider the interpretations of their own prophecies. They decided that it meant one of two things: that Athens would be fine because the Acropolis used to be surrounded by hedgerows, or that they should build a fleet of ships to be a “wooden wall” against the enemy.

Themistokles, the main proponent of the second reading, won out and the fleet was built. Athens faced the Persian fleet at the battle of Salamis (an island off the coast of Athens) in 480BC and won, therefore, in their eyes, proving that this reading of the prophecy was correct.

Zeus, played by Jeff Goldblum, is one of the prophecy recipients. (Courtesy of Netflix)

Interpreting Prophecy

In Kaos, show creator Charlie Covell has presented something very true to the spirit of prophecy in ancient Greek history and mythology – even while subverting the form that prophecy takes.

In ancient Greece, Zeus couldn’t have received an oracular prophecy, as all prophecy was thought to originate from him. But he was subject to the destinies cast by the Moirai. For example, in the Iliad, Zeus is unable to save his mortal son, Sarpedon, from his fate (dying by the hand of Patroclus) – it is ultimately out of his control.

In Kaos, through misunderstanding, interpretation and reinterpretation, the four recipients of the Fates’ prophecy each play a crucial role in its fulfilment – but only when they (and we) read that prophecy in our own ways.

The prophecies of ancient Greece could later be revealed to be incorrectly interpreted. When Croesus, king of Lydia, was told that if he went to war he would destroy a great kingdom, he interpreted that as the Persian kingdom, but it turned out to be his own.

So too might our understanding of the prophecy in Kaos turn out to be a misinterpretation. By expertly weaving the Moirai and oracles into the narrative, Kaos emphasizes the crucial role of fate in reshaping the destinies of people and events, emphasizing their interconnectedness. In doing so, the show reflects the ancient Greek belief in the power and inescapable nature of prophecy.

Top image: The cast of Kaos.      Source: Courtesy of Netflix/The Conversation

This article was originally published under the title ‘Kaos hinges on prophecies – historian explains the real oracles that inspired the Netflix show’ by Ellie Mackin Roberts on The Conversation, and has been republished under a Creative Commons License.

Ancient geoglyphs, etched onto the hillsides by indigenous groups from over 1,000 years ago, are under attack – by off-road racers from around the globe, who arrive each year in their all-terrain vehicles (ATVs): motorcycles, jeeps, quads, and buggies. Leaving deep tire tracks in one of the driest landscapes on Earth, this massified racing is erasing (and has erased), some of the 100-foot-long (30 meter) historical carvings, which are fairly easy to spot. This fact doesn’t seem to deter the thrill-seeking drivers though.

Aerial of more geoglyphs run through by tire tracks. (Fundación Desierto de Atacama)

Atacama Desert’s Geoglyphs: An Elaborately Carved History of Over 3,000 Years

The competitors tackle long-distance circuits through the Atacama Desert, erasing the works of indigenous groups that began roughly 3,000 years ago: these works include vast, intricate figures of animals, humans, and symbols onto the slopes of the Atacama. Particularly well-preserved, especially in the Alto Barranco region of Tarapacá, both authorized and illegal off-road racing has disturbed this area, causing growing concerns, reports The New York Times.

Recent drone imagery, released by archaeologist Gonzálo Pimentel, president of the Fundación Desierto de Atacama, showcases the scale of destruction. Pimentel has described the geoglyphs as the “history book of the desert,” but vehicles, including trucks from mining operations, are now leaving scars across these ancient artworks. The Alto Barranco geoglyphs are crisscrossed by hundreds of tire tracks, a physical reminder of the disregard for this cultural heritage.

“Where you leave your mark is your decision. Don’t do it on the geoglyphs. Not on the history of this land,” wrote the Atacama Desert Foundation in an Instagram post, translated by El Pais.

Tracks are also made by off-road racing and also mining trucks. (Fundación Desierto de Atacama)

The destruction has sparked outrage among activists and archaeologists, who argue that the government is failing to protect these invaluable sites. The damage is not only a blow to history but also to the livelihoods of local residents. Tour guides like Luis Araya, who lead archaeological tours of Alto Barranco, say the situation is dire. For Araya and more than 30 other families in the region, the preservation of these geoglyphs is key to their income. “It makes me sad, frustrated, powerless,” he said, describing the impact of the damage.

Chile’s Atacama Desert is one of the most arid places on Earth, receiving only sporadic rain throughout the year. The extreme climate, with its scorching sun and harsh conditions, makes life in the desert sparse, leaving the landscape virtually untouched for millions of years. “This landscape has stayed the same for 25 million years,” Dr. Pimentel explained.

The very same conditions that make the Atacama a haven for archaeologists also attract extreme sports enthusiasts, drawn to the remote and rugged terrain. Yet, the vehicle tracks created by these races, Pimentel pointed out, are just as enduring as the ancient geoglyphs themselves:

“Just like the geoglyphs, vehicle tracks will remain there.”

Stakeholders: Who’s to Blame?

Archaeologists and activists have attempted to combat the issue by installing large warning signs around the archaeological zones, alerting drivers to the importance of the area. According to Marcela Sepúlveda, president of the Chilean Society of Archaeology, these signs make it impossible for drivers to claim ignorance of the geoglyphs.

She says, emphatically:

“The geoglyphs are gigantic. No one can claim they didn’t see them. That’s impossible.”

Local resident and activist Mr. Pérez Reyes has been leading efforts to protect the geoglyphs since 2017, gathering evidence of the damage caused by the races, reports The Smithsonian. Along with other Tarapacá residents, he has closely monitored drivers who venture too close to the geoglyphs, collecting photos and data. Despite these efforts, the government has continued to grant approval for major racing events, frustrating local activists.

The organizers of one such event, the Atacama Rally, deny any responsibility for the damage caused at Alto Barranco. Gerardo Fontaine, the race director, pointed out that participants were well aware of the designated routes, which are tracked by GPS. Racers were notified immediately if they strayed from the course, he said. He added that these routes had been approved by regional authorities.

“The real problem is drivers who rent motorcycles and race in the desert without permission,” Fontaine argued. “No one says anything to them.”

More tracks across geoglyphs (Fundación Desierto de Atacama)

In 2022, regional official Daniel Quinteros Rojas approved the Atacama Rally under the condition that racers adhere strictly to pre-established routes. However, after the race, organizers failed to submit GPS data for post-race analysis, preventing officials from determining whether racers had deviated from the course and damaged the geoglyphs.

Quinteros admitted there were limitations in the government’s capacity to monitor the impact of these races, which led to the decision to halt future rally approvals in Tarapacá. Fontaine, on the other hand, claimed that the cost of sharing GPS data with authorities was too high for both the rally and the government.

After the 2022 race, Mr. Pérez Reyes filed a formal complaint with the judicial authorities in Tarapacá, alleging that the rally’s route had crossed into protected archaeological zones. His evidence included photos of racers speeding through dunes near sensitive areas. Despite the complaint, no penalties have been issued.

The latest Atacama Rally, held on September 7, 2023, took place 600 miles (965 kilometers) south of Tarapacá in Tierra Amarilla. Still, the race was not free from controversy. A month before the event, Chile’s National Monuments Council issued a statement to regional authorities, warning that the rally’s course crossed 16 areas of archaeological and paleontological significance. The council demanded that race organizers and regional authorities took steps to prevent damage to these sites.

The release of new drone images has spurred federal authorities into action. Chile’s minister of national assets, Marcela Sandoval, announced that officials had visited Alto Barranco to launch an investigation into the destruction. However, she acknowledged that identifying and prosecuting those responsible would be difficult, as many of the tire tracks have been there for years.

In the meantime, the Chilean government is gathering experts to develop strategies for preserving the remaining undamaged geoglyphs, raising awareness among desert rally participants, and improving signage around sensitive archaeological areas. While these steps offer hope, the long-term protection of the Atacama’s fragile cultural history remains uncertain.

Top image: Damage to ancient geoglyphs in Chile’s Atacama Desert.  Source: Fundación Desierto de Atacama

By Sahir Pandey

In this episode of our podcast, we delve into the rich tapestry of ancient Andean societies with Charles Stanish, a prominent scholar whose career has spanned influential roles in archaeology and anthropology. Formerly the Professor of Anthropology and Director of the Cotsen Institute of Archaeology at UCLA, Stanish has also served as the Executive Director of the Institute for the Advanced Study of Culture and the Environment at the University of South Florida. His extensive research into prehistoric societies in Peru, Bolivia, and Chile has significantly advanced our understanding of trade, war, and labor organization in these ancient cultures. In this enlightening discussion, Stanish shifts his focus to the astronomical alignments and geoglyphs of Peru’s Chincha and Nazca Valleys, offering new insights into their cultural and ceremonial significance.

Figure 01. The Nasca geoglyphs are massive, intricate designs and linear geoglyphs etched into the Peruvian desert. (Paul Williams / CC BY-SA 2.0

The episode begins with Stanish’s exploration of the Chincha and Nazca Valleys, areas renowned for their complex geoglyphs – large-scale designs etched into the desert floor – and their intriguing astronomical alignments. These valleys, characterized by their arid landscapes and extensive geoglyphs, serve as a canvas upon which the ancient Andean peoples inscribed their cosmological and ritualistic beliefs. Stanish elaborates on how these geoglyphs, often interpreted as expressions of spiritual or astronomical significance, were integrated into the broader landscape in ways that reflect the social and political dynamics of the time.

Central to our discussion is the concept of how emerging ruling classes orchestrated elaborate open-air theatrical productions within assemblies of mounds, platforms, and geoglyphs. Stanish describes these gatherings as more than mere spectacles; they were complex rituals designed to reinforce political power and legitimacy. By staging these grand displays, dominant classes engaged in competitive feasting and ritual performances that served both to solidify their authority and to create a shared sense of identity among their followers. These events were not only social gatherings but also strategic tools in the rulers’ efforts to maintain control and foster loyalty within their communities.

Read more…

Top image: The History Fuzz Podcast logo. Courtesy of Ashley Cowie.

By Ashley Cowie

History Fuzz is a intellectual property of Ashley Cowie and is used by Ancient Origins with permission by the copyright holder.