Reading the Medieval Landscape through Archaeological Maps of the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries

There are few things I like to do more than pouring over an old map.  For those working on the Maeander River Valley (modern Bรผyรผk Menderes in western Tรผrkiye), we are spoiled by old maps from archaeological surveys and excavations from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.  Unlike earlier maps, these maps surveyed and composed for archaeological purposes were more detailed and often more accurate in their spatial representation.  In this blog, I want to introduce two fascinating maps.

First, is the Lyncker map, named for the military officer Karl Lyncker who carried out the bulk of the investigations around 1908 and 1909.  The map was produced for the archaeological exploration and excavations conducted in the valley by Theodor Wiegand.  This map is best understood as a composite map, including the map of Lake Bafa by the military officer Walther von Marรฉes in 1906 (Fig. 1) and the map of the Milesian peninsula by the mine surveyor Paul Wilski in 1900 (Fig. 2).  Alfred Philippson, a geologist, would conduct his own surveys and produce his own map in 1910 (Fig. 3).  Later, Philippson would compile all the earlier maps and publish them as a composite map in 1936 in the series of volumes of the Miletus excavation.[1] 

Figure 1: A Map of Mount Latmos and Lake Bafa produced by Walther von Marรฉes in 1906.
Figure 2: A Map of the Milesian Peninsula produced by Paul Wilski in 1900.ย 
Figure 3: A Map of Western Asia Minor produced by Alfred Philippson in 1910.

The second map accompanied the archeological work of Olivier Rayet and Albert Thomas and was composed in 1874 (Figs. 4, 5, and 6).[2]  While Wiegand outsourced his cartography to professional geodesists, Rayet drew the map himself.

Figure 4: A Map of the Maeander River Valley produced by Olivier Rayet in 1874.
Figure 5: Close Up of the Area Around Miletus (Balat ou Palatia) in the Rayet Map.
Figure 6: Close Up of the Area Around the Turkish Town of Sรถke (Sokhia) in the Rayet Map.

These maps are an important source of ancient and medieval ruins that have since disappeared.  However, I have always marveled at what these maps reveal unintentionally:  the landscape of the late Ottoman Maeander Valley before a series of changes that would occur in the twentieth century.

Before the Population Exchange of 1923

In 1923, the Greek populations living the Maeander were exchanged with Turkish populations living in Greece.  These maps include many Greek toponyms that are no longer used.  Didyma is known by its Byzantine name of Hieron (Jeronda), while the town on the southern coast of Lake Bafa was known as Mersinet, a survival of the Byzantine Myrsinos (Fig. 1).  The toponym of Patniolik (Figs. 2, 3, and 5), which became the modern Batmaz Tepe (the hill that cannot sink), makes clear that the origin is not Turkish, but Byzantine; this was a village owned by the monastery of Saint John the Theologian on the island of Patmos.  On the southern face of Mount Mykale, the ancient site of Priene is still known by its Byzantine name of Samson (Samsoun) on the Rayet map (Fig. 5), while the village of Domatia (Figs. 3 and 5) is likely the survival of the Byzantine toponym Stomata, which references the mouth of the Maeander River. 

The town of BaฤŸarasi (Gjaur โ€“ Bagharassi on the Lyncker map) missed out having its old Greek name, Mandica, as it was renamed after the Greek War of Independence (1829).  Still, not all Greek toponyms imply a direct Byzantine survival.  The Greek communities of the late Ottoman period are idiomatic to their time and are not simply the fossils of another era; some immigrated from the islands after the plagues of the seventeenth century, while others moved to the area to work for local Turkish lords (like the CihanoฤŸlu family in the Turkish town of Koรงarlฤฑ โ€“ there is no reason to assume that the church in Koรงarlฤฑ in the Lyncker map required a Byzantine predecessor). 

Before the Draining of the Bรผyรผk Menderes

Beginning in the late 1920โ€™s, a series of drainage canals fundamentally transformed the hydrological realities of the Maeander Valley.  Before the construction of this system of canals, the Maeander valley flooded every winter and remained inundated until spring.  This could wreak havoc on transportation across the valley and rendered many places in the plain isolated throughout the winter.  A rather frustrated Gertrude Bell โ€“ a Byzantinist in her own right โ€“ who visited the Maeander Valley around the same time as Lyncker, remarked:

โ€œThis sort of travelling is far more difficult and less pleasant than my Syrian journeys.  There one simply gets onto a horse and rides off, carrying oneโ€™s house with one.  Here there are so many arrangements to be made and one has to depend on other peopleโ€™s hospitality which is always a bore.  Itโ€™s worth doing however and while I am about it, I will see as much of the country as I can so that I need not come back.โ€[3]

The draining of the valley was not just the construction of individual canals, but the construction of a system of canals that included the entire valley, where the canals, parallel to the river, provided drainage for the entire valley.  Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, and Ottomans all had drainage of some type in the Maeander, but I have seen no evidence of a valley-wide attempt to drain until the early years of the Turkish Republic.[4]  One of the clearest representation of these canals as a system is found in a map from a British Naval Intelligence Division geographical handbook from 1943, when this process was well underway but far from finished.[5] 

Despite the difficulties of living in the open plain in this period, the Lyncker map shows considerable number of settlements, from the series of houses along the river between Priene and Miletus, to the villages east of the town of Sรถke (Fig. 3).  While the Rayet map is less detailed in showing the late Ottoman settlement pattern, it does often show where the major fields were located (Terres labourรฉes), such as the northeastern extreme of the Milesian peninsula, those directly south of Priene (Fig. 5), and the plain between Sรถke and Burunkรถy (Bouroun Keui, Fig. 6).  Because marshes are dynamic and seasonal in the Maeander, that these two maps do not show the same regions as swamp makes sense.  The Lyncker map is oriented more towards the summer and fall, mapping the lakes found at the center of a swamp, while Rayet shows the much wider area that likely saw itself underwater during the winter and spring.  Near Miletus (Balat ou Palatia), Rayet designates โ€œlands flooded during the winterโ€ (Landes inondรฉes pendant tout lโ€™hiber).  In fact, this is a consistent problem when examining maps, even into the second half of the twentieth century.  What can appear as an invented lake โ€“ a โ€œpaper lake,โ€ if you will โ€“ is instead a cartographer mistaking what is permanent for what is seasonal.

For western Tรผrkiye, the twentieth century introduced a series of fundamental changes to the landscape.  Being able to see what the landscape looked like before that can provide important insights about the medieval landscape.  But, if I am honest, pouring over these maps is simply just a great way to pass an afternoon!

Tyler Wolford, PhD
Byzantine Studies Postdoctoral Fellowship
Medieval Institute
University of Notre Dame


[1] Alfred Philippson.  Das sรผdliche Jonien.  Milet III.5.  Berlin and Leipzig, 1936.

[2] Olivier Rayet and Albert Thomas. Milet et le Golfe Latmique, Tralles, Magnรฉsie du Mรฉandre, Priรจne, Milet, Didymes, Hรฉraclรฉe du Latmos: Fouilles et explorations archรฉologiques.  Paris, 1877.  This map can be viewed online at http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/rayet1877a/0002.

[3] https://gertrudebell.ncl.ac.uk/l/gb-1-1-1-1-17-19

[4] Sรผha Gรถney. Bรผyรผk Menderes Bรถlgesi. Istanbul, 1975, 245-256.

[5] Naval Intelligence Division.  Turkey.  Volume II.  Geographical Handbook Series.  1943, 159.

An Old Norse Saga Guide to Surviving the Holidays

Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, but between treacherous weather, family politics, and dietary decisions, it can also be a tricky time to navigate. To help you get through the season, here are some top tips from the Old Norse sagas on surviving the holidays.

Drinking with the Devil. Reykjavรญk, Stofnun รrna Magnรบssonar รญ รญslenskum frรฆรฐum, AM 673 a III 4to (Teiknibรณk), 18v. Image from handrit.is

Pick the right day to celebrate

If you lived in the Middle Ages, deciding when to host your winter festivities could be tricky. For a long time, as Scandinavia gradually converted to Christianity, the winter months saw the coexistence of two different Yule festivals: Christian Christmas and pagan Jรณl. The latter was likely celebrated differently across the region but said in one kingโ€™s saga, Hรกkonar saga gรณรฐa, to begin on midwinter night and continue for three nights. These diverging celebrations became a point of friction during the conversion process so, around the middle of the tenth century, the Christian Norwegian king, Hรกkon the Good, attempted to consolidate the two. According to his saga, he decreed that โ€˜observance of Yule should begin at the same time as Christian people observed Christmasโ€™ (97).

Although not without its challenges, this was a clever move. We can see its legacy several decades later in ร“lรกfs saga helga, which describes the changing customs of a man named Sigurรฐr:

During the pagan period, he was accustomed to hold three sacrificial banquets every year, one at the winter nights, the second at midwinter, the third in the summer. And when he accepted Christianity, he still kept up his established custom with the banquets. Then, in the autumn he held a great party for his friends, and also a Yule feast in the winter and then again invited many people; a third banquet he held at Easter. (127)

Once youโ€™ve settled on a date to celebrate, make sure you invite the right people โ€“ and if you get an invitation to someone elseโ€™s Yule-feast, itโ€™s bad form to not show up. Some time after Sigurรฐrโ€™s death, his brother รžรณrir invited his son รsbjวซrn to a Yule feast, but รsbjวซrn refused the invitation. รžรณrir took this as a personal slight and in return made such great mockery of รsbjวซrn and his expeditions that รsbjวซrn sullenly โ€˜stayed at home during the winter and went to no partiesโ€™ (131). A sad fate indeed.

Choose the perfect gifts

To be a powerful king in medieval Scandinavia, you had to surround yourself with groups of loyal retainers who would feast with you, fight for you, and uphold your rules. This loyalty needed to be rewarded, and Yule was the perfect time for kings and other powerful men to shower their best retainers with gifts. Thereโ€™s even a term for gifts given in this season: โ€˜jรณlagjวซfโ€™. In ร“lรกfs saga helga, for instance, it is said that the king had a custom of โ€˜making great preparations, […] gathering together his treasures to give friendly gifts on the eighth evening of Yuleโ€™ (199). One of these gifts was a beautiful gold-adorned sword, given to his skald Sigvatr. This was said to be a fine, enviable treasure, though perhaps not as enviable as ร“lรกfrโ€™s earlier gift to Brynjรณlfr, which he received with a rather unimaginative verse:

Bragningr gaf mรฉr
brand ok Vettaland.

The ruler gave me a sword and Vettaland (an important estate). (51)

Yule-gifts were also an important way to cement friendships and alliances in Scandinavian and Icelandic society, for which clothes appear to have been a popular choice. According to Laxdรฆla saga, King Haraldr Fairhair once gifted ร“lรกfr Peacock โ€˜an entire suit of clothes made from scarletโ€™ (30). Even more impressive is a set of Yule-gifts exchanged between the Norwegian Arinbjวซrn and the Icelander Egill in Egils saga:

As a customary Yuletide gift, [Arinbjorn] gave Egil a silk gown with ornate gold embroidery and gold buttons all the way down, which was cut especially to fit Egilโ€™s frame. He also gave him a complete set of clothes, cut from English cloth in many colours. Arinbjorn gave all manner of tokens of friendship at Yuletide to the people who visited him, since he was exceptionally generous and firm of character. (134)

Of course, before you splash out on expensive swords or clothes, you need to make sure the receiver is worthy of your gift. This is what King Raknarr did on the eve before Yule in the semi-legendary Bรกrรฐar saga snรฆfellsรกss, entering the hall of King ร“lรกfr Tryggvason, decked out with armour, helmet, sword, gold necklace, and gold ring. After going round the room to no response, he finally announces scathingly: โ€œHere have I come and nothing at all has been offered to me by this great figure. I shall be more generous for I shall offer to award those treasures that I have here now to that man who dares to take them from me โ€” but there is no one like that here.โ€ (261)

Raknarrโ€™s passive aggressive gifting strategy may not be the best example to follow, particularly as he turns out to be a reanimated corpse who must be slain by the hero Gestr. Instead, why not take inspiration from the troll-woman Hรญt in the same saga (254), whose Yule party favor for Gestr is a wonderfully loyal dog!

Feast and be merry!

Once youโ€™ve bought and wrapped your presents, the next step is to plan your menu. The sagas are full of Yule feasts, although they rarely provide specific details of what is actually eaten. At one point in Eirรญks saga rauรฐa, for example, Eirรญkr is hosting a number of voyagers over the winter at his home in Greenland, but starts to become gloomy as Yule approaches for he does not have the resources to throw them all a proper holiday feast. One of the voyagers, Karlsefni, comes to his rescue, offering him use of their provisions:

โ€œ[...] Weโ€™ve malt and flour and grain aboard our ships, and you may help yourself to them as you will, to prepare a feast worthy of your generous hospitality.โ€

Eirik accepted this. Preparations for a Yule feast began, which proved to be so bountiful that men could scarcely recall having seen its like. (11)

What exactly was in that grand feast goes entirely unstated, but it clearly involved some kind of malt, flour, and grain.Hรกkonar saga gรณรฐa does suggest that horse meat was an important part of pagan Yule and other feasts. One winter, the saga relates, King Hรกkon attended a Yule feast with a large number of farmers from รžrรกndheimr, where he was very reluctantly forced to eat a few pieces of horse-liver and โ€˜drank all the toasts that the farmers poured for him without the sign of the Crossโ€™ (102). Itโ€™s never good to offend your hosts โ€” especially when they are armed.

One way to get into the sacred spirit of Christmas in advance of the gluttony to come is to fast in preparation. Indeed, not doing so could have dire consequences. In Grettis saga, the ill-tempered Glรกmr demanded meat from his wife on the eve of Yule. She tried to dissuade him, saying, โ€œItโ€™s not the Christian custom to eat on this day, because tomorrow is the first day of Christmas. It is our duty to fast today.โ€ (101) Glรกmr scoffed at this, claiming a preference for the old pagan ways, and tucked into his meat. That very night, he was found dead in the snow and, even worse, eventually rose again to haunt the area.

As Christianity became the dominant religion in Scandinavia, later kings were less accepting of the old customs. One winter, King ร“lรกfr the Holy got word that the farmers of Innรพrล“ndir had been holding forbidden midwinter sacrificial feasts, and summoned a representative to explain themselves. But the quick-thinking man had the perfect excuse:

โ€œWe held,โ€ he says, โ€œYule banquets and in many places in the districts drinking parties. The farmers do not make such scant provision for their Yule banquets that there is not a lot left over, and that was what they were drinking, lord, for a long time afterwards. At Mรฆrin there is a large centre and huge buildings, and extensive settlements round about. People find it good to drink together there for enjoyment in large numbers.โ€ (117)

The king remained suspicious, but could not fault the farmerโ€™s logic. For, if thereโ€™s one thing about Christmas that everyone can agree on, itโ€™s the importance of alcohol.

Drink… but not too much

When King Hรกkon the Good ordered the convergence of Yule and Christmas, he had one condition of how to celebrate: each person was to consume a measure of ale (16.2 litres, according to one estimate) and celebrate for as long as the ale lasted, or else pay a fine (97).

Drinking is a key component of most Yule feasts described across the sagas. Even core principles like seeking vengeance for fallen kin must come second. In Hรกkonar saga herรฐibreiรฐs, for instance, King Ingi relates that he told one man about the killing of another, sure that he would be spurred to vengeance, but โ€˜those people behaved as if nothing was as important as that Yule drinking feast and it could not be interruptedโ€™ (227).

In fact, throughout the sagas, Yule-drinking (โ€˜jรณla-drykkjaโ€™) causes all sorts of problems. According to ร“lรกfs saga helga, a Yule drinking competition in Jamtaland naturally led to bickering between Norwegians and Swedes, and the spilling of secrets as โ€˜the ale spoke through the Jamtrโ€™ (172). In Eyrbyygja saga, รžรณrรณlfr bรฆgifรณtr got his thralls drunk at Yule and convinced them to burn down an enemyโ€™s house (168โ€“69). The troll-womanโ€™s Yule-feast in Bรกrรฐar saga Snรฆfellsรกss steadily deteriorated as the drinking got heavier, leading to a rowdy game, a bloody nose, and a long feud (253).

Even without alcohol, Yule became a time of battle and slaughter throughout the sagas of kings. It is only in Magnรบss saga blinda ok Haralds gilla that the two titular warring kings accepted a Christmas truce โ€˜because of the sanctity of the timeโ€™, although Magnรบss did use this opportunity to fortify his town and โ€˜no more than three days over Yule were kept sacred so that no work was doneโ€™ (175).

This is a good example for academics everywhere: as much as we might feel the need to work over the holidays, there comes a time to put down our books, buy some gifts, and feast with family, friends, and nemeses โ€” even if it is for just three days over Yule. If you manage to do so, you might just make it through the season alive.

Ashley Castelino, DPhil
Public Humanities Postdoctoral Fellow 
Medieval Institute, University of Notre Dame 

Bibliography

Bardโ€™s Saga [Bรกrรฐar saga snรฆfellsรกss]. Translated by Sarah M. Anderson. In The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, edited by Viรฐar Hreinsson. Vol. 2. Leifur Eirรญksson, 1997.

Egilโ€™s Saga [Egils saga]. Translated by Bernard Scudder. In The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, edited by Viรฐar Hreinsson. Vol. 1. Leifur Eirรญksson, 1997.

Erik the Redโ€™s Saga [Eirรญks saga rauรฐa]. Translated by Keneva Kunz. In The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, edited by Viรฐar Hreinsson. Vol. 1. Leifur Eirรญksson, 1997.

The Saga of Grettir the Strong [Grettis saga]. Translated by Bernard Scudder. In The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, edited by Viรฐar Hreinsson. Vol. 2. Leifur Eirรญksson, 1997.

The Saga of the People of Eyri [Eyrbyggja saga]. Translated by Judy Quinn. In The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, edited by Viรฐar Hreinsson. Vol. 5. Leifur Eirรญksson, 1997.

The Saga of the People of Laxardal [Laxdรฆla saga]. Translated by Keneva Kunz. In The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, edited by Viรฐar Hreinsson. Vol. 5. Leifur Eirรญksson, 1997.

Snorri Sturluson. Hรกkonar saga gรณรฐa. In Heimskringla, translated by Alison Finlay and Anthony Faulkes. Vol. 1. Viking Society for Northern Research, 2011.

Snorri Sturluson. Hรกkonar saga herรฐibreiรฐs. In Heimskringla, translated by Alison Finlay and Anthony Faulkes. Vol. 3. Viking Society for Northern Research, 2015.

Snorri Sturluson. ร“lรกfs saga helga. In Heimskringla, translated by Alison Finlay and Anthony Faulkes. Vol. 2. Viking Society for Northern Research, 2014.

Facts and Fiction: Rewriting the First Crusade with Dr. Thomas Smith

A few weeks ago, Ben and Will sat down with Dr. Thomas Smith, a leading expert on the Crusades, having authored several books on the subject, including, most recently, Rewriting the First Crusade: Epistolary Culture in the Middle Ages (Boydell Press, 2024) and The Egyptian Crusade: Holy War on the Nile, forthcoming with Yale University Press in 2026. Dr. Smith holds the position of Keeper of the Scholars and Head of Oxbridge at Rugby School, one of the UK’s most historic private boarding schools, founded in 1567. He is also an elected Fellow of the Royal Historical Society and the Royal Asiatic Society.

Ben and Will chat with Dr. Smith about how letter-writing was approached in the medieval world and the role it played during the Crusades. Today, letters are typically writtenโ€”if they are written at allโ€”by a sole author to be read by a sole addressee, in private. However, while we have discrete channels for public and private communication, in the medieval worldโ€”where geography placed real limitations on the sharing of informationโ€”the two would often intertwine. And so, letters were more communal, even when addressed by a singular author to a singular addressee. For example, a letter sent by a crusade leader to his wife back home would, first of all, likely be written not just by the husband in isolation but dialogically with his scribes, and, second, would be intended to be read not just by the wife in private but aloud to the entire community, to be copied down and shared widely.

The participatory character of the production and reception of letters not only points to an ambiguity between the private and the public, but also between fact and fiction, as the truth of something emerges in its dynamic narration and re-narration across time and space. Dr. Smith thinks that these ambiguities, when taken seriously, challenge certain modern assumptions we hold about the Crusades and the medieval world in general. For example, we are sometimes inclined to imagine the average medieval person as simpler and more credulous than the average modern person. But what if these ambiguities that infuse the medieval world were owing not to a lack of sophistication but, rather, a different kind of sophistication? Dr. Smith thinks that we have every reason to believe the latter, that the medieval person is just as critical and curious about the world around her as the modern person, but is so through different lensesโ€”theological rather than empirical-scientific, for example. That the medieval person was less inclined to divide fact from fiction is thus not owing to a failure of conviction or capacity for truthโ€”quite the opposite.

In addition to discussing his research, Ben and Will also chat with Dr. Smith about the way he balances a heavy teaching load at the Rugby School with his writing and research, of which he is able to accomplish a great deal, even with his limited time. The conversation concludes with a refreshing note on the importance of self-care in academia.

Thanks for listening, and be sure to stay tuned for more!