Deciphering Arachosian Tribute at Persepolis: Orthopraxy and Regulated Gifts in the Achaemenid Empire

Abstract

Inscribed trays, plates, mortars, and pestles made of beautiful green chert bearing formulaic administrative textual formulae were found during excavations at the Persepolis Treasury in the 1930s. These implements and the enigmatic formulae inscribed upon them present scholars with a complex and unique challenge whose correct interpretation holds important implications for the study of Achaemenid history, imperial administration, and relations between ancient Arachosia (roughly modern-day Afghanistan) and the centers of power, as well as—as I argue in this article—for the symbiosis between administration and cult in antiquity. They continue to be hotly debated ever since their inauspicious initial publication by Bowman in 1970, yet they have thus far remained obscure. By comparing these finds with material and textual data from across the Achaemenid empire and early Parthian sources, this article offers a new comprehensive study of these objects. My analysis suggests that these objects are to be considered as a more systematized and tightly controlled Arachosian form of “informal taxation”—namely, regulated gifts—which are comparable to similar imperial donations found in the Treasury at Persepolis. Specifically, they take part in an “economy of fealty” demonstrating loyalty to king and empire through the adherence to the era’s Mazdean ritual orthopraxy.

1. Introduction

The brief and somewhat monotonous Aramaic texts written on green chert implements (henceforth, PAGC)1 found during excavations at Persepolis in 1936 (Cameron 1948, esp. 5–6; Schmidt 1957, pp. 53–56)2 contain substantial complexities on multiple levels whose accurate interpretation has important implications for several interrelated studies—from Aramaic and Iranian linguistics to our understanding of the intricacies of imperial and local administration in the Achaemenid empire in matters such as taxation, governance, and communications. They also provide insights into the period’s scribal practices, onomastics, cultural characteristics, and even cultic practices—an interpretation for which both the texts and the physical implements upon which they were inscribed found themselves at the center of both debate and debacle over the more than half a century since they were published by Bowman (1970). The study proposed in the following pages offers a new analysis of the PAGC within their immediate as well as their wider imperial context. I will reconsider the materiality and form of these objects and their texts within the perspective of other finds from the Persepolis and make use of documents from areas across the empire and beyond—from Elephantine in upper Egypt to Parthian Nisa and Idumaea—to put these finds into context in order to interpret their significance and purpose within the Achaemenid administration. This is not, by any means, a new edition of the PAGC, but a step toward such an undertaking, which, as Henkelman has rightly claimed, “is a great desideratum” (Henkelman 2017, p. 104 note 79).

2. Findings and Early Interpretations

The PAGC are comprised of 269 utensils (

Table 1. Types and amounts of PAGC objects (Schmidt 1957, p. 55).

Object Type	Inscribed	Uninscribed	Total
Mortars	79	18	97
Pestles	68	12	80
Plates	55	30	85
Trays	1	6	7
Total	203	66	269

), limited to four types of implements—trays, plates, mortars, and pestles—all made out of green chert (Figure 1) and found during excavations at Persepolis. They were located almost exclusively in Treasury Hall 38, with a small number found in subsidiary rooms (Schmidt 1957, pp. 53–54 [map]).3

While about a quarter of these (66 items) were anepigraphic, 203 of the implements bore short and formulaic Aramaic texts (Figure 2).

Various indications contained within the text of the PAGC allowed them to be dated to the fifth-century BCE—specifically to the reigns of Xerxes and Artaxerxes I, roughly spanning a period of some thirty-three years (King 2019, p. 187, esp. note 14; Schütze 2021, pp. 408–9; but see also Henkelman 2017, p. 104, note 79). Some were subsequently quite literally “lost at sea” (Bowman 1970, v), however, and only 163 of these inscribed vessels made it to Bowman’s editio princeps (Bowman 1970, 1972, pp. 251–57). Erich Schmidt, who excavated the site from 1934 to 19394 and was the first to publish an official report on the site, classified the PAGC as “ritual objects of green chert” (Schmidt 1953, p. 56; 1957, p. 53).5 This characterization was made on the basis of two elements: first, an image found on seal impressions (Figure 3 and Figure 4) showing what seemed to be two priests performing a ritual picturing a mortar and pestle next to a fire-holder (Garrison 2017, pp. 128–29), which according to the excavator “no doubt … pictures the haoma ceremony” (Schmidt 1957, p. 9)—i.e., the preparation of consecrated drink during the main act of Mazdean worship, the yasna (Boyce 2003, pp. 662–67), and second, the very nature of the implements upon which the PAGC texts were written—specifically the mortars and pestles, which are central to the yasna and derived rituals (see extended discussion below).

The green chert from which these implements were made was, according to Schmidt, “reserved almost exclusively for objects of ritualistic purposes” (Schmidt 1957, p. 9). Seven limestone mortars were also found in the same hall (Schmidt 1957, p. 9), as well as bronze mortars and pestles, which Schmidt suggested “may well have been used for the same ritualistic purposes as the corresponding objects of green chert” (Schmidt 1957, p. 102; see also Bernard 1972, p. 174 note 8), but they were not inscribed. Published in 1970, Bowman’s long-awaited editio princeps of the PAGC was the result of some thirty years of interpretations, but the outcome offered severely ill-conceived philological and contextual propositions. Already with the initial publication of the Persepolis Treasury Tablets in 1948, George Cameron expressed little doubt as to the “ritual” context of the texts (Cameron 1948, pp. 6–8) and, not unlike Bowman, his zeal to find ritualistic elements at Persepolis led him to offer erroneous philological interpretations. Even though he later retracted these flawed readings (Cameron 1958, p. 163), he continued to maintain that the PAGC appear to “attest the custom of haoma preparation at the capital,” (Cameron 1958, p. 163, emphasis added; Cf. Altheim 1951, p. 191), a view which also resonated with how Persepolis was seen at the time—often with strikingly Christian undertones—as a “ritual city, a Civitas Dei on earth, reflecting the Civitas Coeli” (Pope 1957, p. 125). Schmidt, likewise, showed no hesitation and placed the green chert vessels under the title “ritual objects of green chert” in his report (Schmidt 1957, pp. 53–56).

Nevertheless, while the overarching context and the physical vessels were unanimously seen as “ritualistic,” the texts inscribed on them were generally considered—correctly—as administrative. Against this background, Bowman took several steps further—too far—and considered the texts themselves ritualistic. Not being himself an Iranist, Bowman relied in his interpretations on the analyses of some of the leading subject matter authorities of his day and worked closely with Cameron as well (Bowman 1970, p. vii). Having communicated, according to his own notes, with Iranist Richard Frye, who confirmed Bowman’s idea of a “proto-Mithraic cult” at Persepolis, Bowman plunged head-first into that theory (Lincoln 2021, p. 325). Moreover, he imagined a scene where the various personalities cited in the PAGC were “officiants” in the haoma ceremony—making what are clear administrative designations such as sgnʾ, gnzbrʾ, or ʾpgnzbr (Stolper 2000, pp. 286–89) into acting priests, a notion that was swiftly and rightfully shot down by his Iranist critics (e.g., Gignoux 1972, p. 86). Finally, he interpreted the three previously undocumented terms in the PAGC texts, prkn, sr(w)k, and hst—one or the other of which appears at the spot preceding the word “fortress,” byrtʾ (Lemaire and Lozachmeur 1987, p. 265)—as being related to phases of the haoma ritual taking place at the fortress of Persepolis itself. He thus translated the beginning of these textual formulae as the “(haoma-)crushing ceremony/ritual of the fortress”—i.e., Persepolis—a place to which he referred, in harmony with the scholarly consensus of his day, as “the ‘ritual capital’ of the Achaemenid empire” (Bowman 1970, p. 256).

The objections to Bowman’s interpretation came in promptly and were as abundant as they were forceful. However, none were able to resolve all of the questions surrounding these objects—and, in many cases, Bowman’s critics offered explanations which were hardly more tenable than those of the target of their criticism (a fact to which several of them frankly admitted). First, almost all reviewers, even non-specialists, noted the glaring liberties taken by Bowman in the interpretation of the Aramaic text—his field of expertise (e.g., Degen 1974, pp. 125–27). Second, the ritual nature of the texts and the proposal of a “proto-Mithraic” cult at the time among the military officers—themselves officiating in the liturgy—came under fire (e.g., Hinnells 1973, pp. 157–60). Baruch Levine, one of Bowman’s first reviewers, found the cultic context proposed by Bowman “convincing” (Levine 1972, p. 71) but criticized, as would all other reviewers, Bowman’s Aramaic analysis—especially his imaginative interpretation and analysis of the verb Ꜥbd as “to use”, which he deemed “patently incorrect” (Levine 1972, p. 77). In addition, following in Cameron’s footsteps (Bowman 1970, p. 54), Levine correctly connected the term ʾškr, which Bowman read as an “intoxicating drink,” back to the Akkadian iškaru (Levine 1972, p. 78, 72 note 14)—a form of taxation (see discussion below)—which has remained in the consensus ever since. Segal, another early reviewer, questioned Bowman’s interpretation of the terms srk, prkn, and hst, which he suggested—based on proposed Semitic cognates—might be locations within the fortress (Segal 1972, p. 354). Like Levine, he found the cultic context proposed by Bowman to be “not unreasonable” (Segal 1972, p. 354), but he rejected the idea that administrative officials might hold the position of priests. Paul Bernard made similar objections but cogently noted that only two treasurers, from successive timeframes, are mentioned in the entire corpus and both are said to be “of Arachosia”. That Bowman places these treasurers at Persepolis was an idea which Bernard claimed “frise l’absurde” (Bernard 1972, p. 168). Writing from Kabul, in the former satrapy of Arachosia, Bernard launched into a lengthy discussion on the three terms srk, prkn, and hst and concluded that these refer to areas within or at the limits of that satrapy, proposing that the only logical interpretation would be that these objects were handed over and labelled in Aramaic in Arachosia itself. He thus proposed a scenario whereby they represent gifts (“dons”) made to the great king through the intermediary of three local officials and from senior officers stationed in the satrapy, as well as other persons whose status is not specified, but who must be notables of the province (Bernard 1972, p. 173). The following year, Joseph Naveh and Shaul Shaked published their own review of Bowman starting off with a question: “[w]hy should there be ritual objects in the Treasury?” (Naveh and Shaked 1973, p. 445). Yet, by the end of their contribution, they conceded that “[t]he precise function of these objects is still far from clear: Schmidt and Bowman may be right when they connect them to Persian ritual practices” (Naveh and Shaked 1973, p. 457). They concurred with Bernard that prkn, srk, and hst are to be understood as place-names in Arachosia (Naveh and Shaked 1973, p. 446). Mikhail Bogoljubov likewise placed these locales in Arachosia (Bogoljubov 1973, pp. 172–77), offering Avestan or Persian etymologies for them (1973, pp. 173–74). He also pointed out certain important similarities with the Nisa documents, which I will discuss further below. The following year, Iranist Ilya Gershevitch identified prkn, srk, and hst as areas within the Persepolis compound and proposed a heavily orientalist “bazar” scene at Persepolis (Gershevitch 1974, p. 54), which is not less imaginary and speculative than Bowman’s original proposal. Delaunay also dismissed the idea that prkn, srk, and hst are place-names in Arachosia, but he did so based on his interpretation of the travel patterns of the sgn over supposedly great distances, which he claimed made “no sense” (Delaunay 1974, p. 206)—a notion which was later proven to be erroneous (Henkelman 2017, pp. 107–8). Be that as it may, starting with Cameron (Bowman 1970, pp. 20–21), this trio of terms has been seen by most scholars as names of fortresses in Arachosia due to the three-pronged association of the PAGC with that province:

(1)

The material: green chert, which, as Bernard noted, originates in that province.

(2)

A known fortress by the name of Barrikana (*Parikāna) (Tavernier 2007, pp. 389–90) in Arachosia appearing on at least nine6 Persepolis Fortification Tablets corresponding to prkn—providing enough of an anchor to consider the other two names (srk and hst) as place-names denoting fortresses.

(3)

The recurring reference to the treasurer “who is in Arachosia” (bhrḥwty).

3. Assessment of Recent Developments

Until roughly a decade ago, the consensus among scholars was that while the texts were entirely administrative, the utensils themselves—the pestles, mortars, plates, and trays of green chert—were ritualistic and related to the haoma ceremony (e.g., Hinz 1975, p. 382; Dandamaev et al. 1989, p. 335; Haruta 2013, p. 780; Skjærvø 2013, p. 550). Lately, however, attempts have been made to argue that not only are the texts not ritualistic but so too are the implements upon which they were written. Thus, in a dedicated article, King claimed that there is “no emic evidence immediately that suggested that these were ritual objects,” adding that “Schmidt himself noted the similarity in shape of these plates with other plates identified as royal tableware” (King 2019, p. 185). These statements are erroneous and misleading. Schmidt showed no hesitation in labelling these objects “ritualistic” with perfect consistency (Schmidt 1953, 1957, passim). He only compared the shape of the green chert plates—and only the plates—to similar items classified as “royal tableware,” while asserting that green chert is a stone “reserved almost exclusively for objects of ritualistic purposes” (Schmidt 1957, p. 89). Indeed, the only intersection between the PAGC set and the set of known “royal tableware” from Achaemenid sources is the plates.

Schmidt systematically avoided classifying the green chert trays, plates, mortars, and pestles as “royal tableware”. In his list of “royal tableware”, which included trays, the green chert trays are not included. The only green chert items Schmidt includes in that list are one footed bowl7 and “various shards” (Schmidt 1957, p. 91 [table VIII]). In any case, Schmidt’s classification represents nothing more than his interpretation. It must be critically evaluated and cannot, by itself, be used as proof of the character of the PAGC one way or the other. It is much more significant, however, that in the section titled “Royal Tableware: Vessels of Stone and Composition” of his publication, Schmidt makes the remarkable statement that “[o]n the king’s table, no doubt, plates, bowls, pitchers, and goblets of precious metals-none of which were found-were preferred for everyday use” (Schmidt 1957, p. 81, emphasis added). This vital parenthetical statement should not have been glossed over. If what was unearthed at the Persepolis Treasury was, in fact, a store of royal tableware, it would be inconceivable that none of the considerably more common and expected Achaemenid “tableware” items (e.g., Simpson 2005, esp. 107–8) would be found among the hundreds of artefacts preserved in the Treasury. For the sake of comparison, in Susa (which was likewise plundered by Alexander’s forces) as in other royal residences, hardstone decorated cups, bowls, vases, and other forms of tableware of various materials were unearthed (Amiet 1990, pp. 217–24; Gérard and Perrot 2013, pp. 322–23).

In sum, the main arguments against classifying the green chert utensils as “tableware” are as follows:

• Nowhere are trays, mortars, and pestles reckoned in ancient sources as “tableware.” They do not figure in the wares represented on the Apadana walls, nor do they appear in the various Greek sources describing the royal table (e.g., Herodotus. Hist. 9.80).8
• Significantly, no precious or “luxury editions” of trays, mortars, and pestles are otherwise known, while it was customary to craft stately variants of royal tableware—including plates (Simpson 2005, p. 108).
• While it can be argued that Achaemenid royal tableware was often made out of silver (or other precious metals) and thus would have conceivably been melted down by looters, tableware made from other materials which would not have been subject to such treatment—such as stone, ceramics, faience, etc., abundantly found in royal residences—would be expected to be unearthed in the treasury hall had it contained a stockpile of precious tableware. Yet not a single one, as Schmidt notes, was found.

King (2019, p. 187), following Henkelman (2017, p. 104), sees these objects as being precious due to the material from which they were crafted—Afghan green chert—and as having an intrinsic, transactional, economic value (though Henkelman rightly gravitates to the possibility that these may have been “regulated gifts” that “may have accompanied a tax in silver,” Henkelman 2017, p. 104). King posits that the PAGC could function just like precious metals in the “process of ‘treasurization’” (King 2019, p. 199)—a process which, according to him, “transformed transient agricultural wealth in distant regions into stable wealth in the imperial core”. The transactional nature of King’s proposal is expressed in the idea that from Persepolis, “the stored wealth could be redistributed to elites in a gift economy, paid to workers on construction projects, used to finance war, etc.” (King 2019, p. 199). This, of course, ignores the fact that in order to be used for tangible, transactional, economic value—especially on an imperial scale (i.e., for construction, military campaigns, etc.)—the precious metal utensils would have had to be melted down and used for monetary transactions (Herodotus Hist. 3.96),9 a process which cannot apply to the green chert implements. Even the redistribution which, supposedly, would go “to elites in a gift economy” can hardly be sustained, given that the very nature of these implements being inscribed—with precise formulae relevant to a very specific sets of names (mostly of relatively low-ranking individuals), locations (limited to Arachosia), measures, regnal years, etc. (which would hardly be of interest to the “elites”)—argues against them being intended for redistribution, as insightfully reasoned by Cahill (1985, p. 385).

Moreover, when considering the PAGC as part of the economic purview of the Persepolis treasury, one should note that Arachosia lay far outside of the Persepolitan economic domain.10 As an actual treasury, the direct administrative horizon of Persepolis at the relevant time period ranged roughly from Ram Hormoz in the northwest to Neyriz in the southeast (Henkelman 2021, p. 885). At any rate, the concept of “economic value” in the Achaemenid administration is not easily defined. As noted by Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg, these offerings “had a surplus value that cannot easily be expressed in economic terms” (Sancisi-Weerdenburg 1989, pp. 129–46). Herodotus presents, in some detail, how different parts of the empire paid tribute in different manners, noting that prior to Darius I, “there was no fixed tribute, but payment was made in gifts (δῶρα)” (Hist. 3.89)—and that, in certain parts of the empire, this practice continued even after Darius’ reform (Hist. 3.97; see also Tuplin 1987, p. 140). Thus, “gift giving” as a form of taxation enjoyed an extensive tradition in the ancient world and in west Asia specifically (Klinkott 2007, p. 267, esp. note 15) and “can be interpreted as a sign of submission and loyalty” rather than possessing transactional economic value (Wiesehöfer 2001, pp. 604–9). Finally, if the treasury was concerned with storing precious materials, why was green chert the only supposedly precious material found, whereas none of the other documented precious materials (even non-meltable ones) were found?11 All of these datapoints lead to two important realizations that must be taken into account prior to reevaluating the PAGC:

• The treasury—at least in Hall 38, where practically all of the PAGC were found—did not store items of intrinsic “transactional” economic value.
• The PAGC should not be classified as “tableware.”

4. A New Look

Although the shape of the object cannot, by itself, be determinative for assessing its function in the context of administrative dealings, it cannot be ignored. The PAGC can only be fully understood if considered under both of their constituent aspects: their materiality (form, function, purpose, provenance, and so on) and their philological profile (textual structure, syntax, grammar, vocabulary, and so on).

4.1. Materiality

For “materiality,” in this article, I adopt Tim Ingold’s definition, by which there are

two sides to materiality. On one side is the brute materiality or “hard physicality” […] of the world’s “material character”; on the other side is the socially and historically situated agency of human beings who, in appropriating this physicality for their purposes, project on it both design and meaning in the conversion of naturally given raw material into the finished forms of artifacts.

(Ingold 2012, p. 432)

Our closest material comparanda to the PAGC are similar items found at various locations across the empire—including Persepolis (as also noted by Henkelman 2017, p. 104).12 These items are usually in the form of containers such as bowls, jars, bottles, etc.—often made of alabaster but also from materials such as granite, diorite, rock crystal, and lapis lazuli (Schmidt 1939, pp. 55–56). They bear formulaic inscriptions containing a king’s regnal name, epithets, and regnal year in hieroglyphics, often accompanied by Old Persian, Elamite, and/or Babylonian cuneiform (Westenholz and Stolper 2002, pp. 7–9 [see list of additional comparable finds in 7–8, note 10]; see also Wasmuth and Henkelman 2017, pp. 207–8). In certain cases, like the PAGC, they also bear a number with a unit of measure indicating size or volume (Schmidt 1957, pp. 108–9; see also Posener 1936, nos. 78 [Artaxerxes], and possibly also nos. 98, 99; Briant 1997, pp. 83–84). That the PAGC were written in ink rather than incised into the stone is due to the nature of the script: hieroglyphs and cuneiform texts were typically incised while Aramaic was typically written in ink. Various regulated gifts are pictographically represented at Persepolis on door jamb reliefs from the palace of Darius (Schmidt 1953, plates 148–150) showing servants holding cosmetic bottles in one hand and towels in the other, suggesting that “some of the smaller inscribed alabastra were also part of the ceremonial of court life” (Westenholz and Stolper 2002, p. 12).

Ingold’s concept of “appropriation of physicality” is expressed in the fact that these regulated or “customary” gifts were a specialized form of taxation. As Kristin Kleber explains, “[t]axation is the local perspective. From the point of view of the empire, the same issues were called gifts or tribute, and fealty or service” (Kleber 2021b, p. 8, see also 128). However, the value of these regulated gifts seems to lay in their symbolism rather than their potential to be used to enhance the financial resources of the empire (Cahill 1985, p. 386). Although Cahill certainly overstates this characterization, claiming that “[t]he primary function of the Treasury at Persepolis seems to have been the storage of gifts and other such encomia, given for symbolic rather than for economic purposes” (Cahill 1985, p. 387, emphasis added), there can be little doubt that symbolism of power, authority, and divine right played a major role in the design and purpose of the treasury at Persepolis (Cahill 1985, p. 388; see also Sancisi-Weerdenburg 1989, pp. 131, 138).13 This symbolism thus seems to have been the engine behind the empire’s gift-based interactions with its subjects—individually as well as at the level of provinces and satrapies (Ellis 2021, p. 79).

Accordingly, by virtue of the nature of their findspot and their materiality, the PAGC—just like similar implements made out of alabaster, granite, or diorite, etc., bearing similar formulaic texts found around the empire—are to be classified as regulated gifts (which may or may not have accompanied tax payments) holding symbolic significance (Cahill 1985, p. 387). As noted by several scholars, tribute in antiquity was divided into two related main categories, a tax by subject people to the empire and “a gift offered as a type of political encomium-an expression of gratitude and continued allegiance to a greater power” (Root 1979, pp. 227–28), and indeed, the differentiation between the two may be “entirely honorary” (Anderson 2020, p. 579). This profile of the Treasury brings the recent theories, mentioned above, regarding the purely economic value of the PAGC’s material into serious doubt. Rather, it was the symbolic character of the PAGC that made them part of the Treasury’s taxonomy (Cahill 1985, p. 387)—a transactional exchange to which I refer as an “economy of fealty,” in extension of Kleber’s characterization (Kleber 2021b, p. 8).

4.2. Symbolism of Mazdean Cult

But what could these trays, plates, pestles, and mortars symbolize? It can hardly be a coincidence that we exclusively find green chert implements that correspond to those used in the yasna ceremony (and its derived rituals, the Visperad and Vidēvdād): trays, plates, pestles, and mortars—both inscribed and uninscribed. While early studies of these implements focused exclusively on a “haoma ceremony” as the context in which they might have been used, they should have been examined through a wider lens. As further discussed below, these trays, plates, mortars, and pestles form part of the larger yasna ceremony in which all of these utensils are used: the mortar and pestle for the pressing of the haoma during the parahoama (Pahl. parahōm) phases of the ritual; the plates and trays, among other things, for the drōn (round, unleavened bread in modern liturgy). The plate is placed in a tray that is then placed in the space between the fire-stand and the ritual table (Kotwal and Boyd 1991; see especially Hintze 2022; Redard 2022).

It bears repeating that, as analyzed above, the PAGC are not tableware and that no other types of green chert implements were found: no bottles, cups, jars, bowls, etc. As with the other regulated gifts at the Treasury, the PAGC were meant to symbolize loyalty and submission to the king in some manner. Given the seamless correspondence between the green chert implements found and the yasna, this symbolic significance is probably to be found at the intersection of this ritual and their overarching context as “regulated gifts”. But while the PAGC share clear material attributes with these gifts, they are also different. The green chert itself is not a meaningful difference since, like the choice of alabaster or diorite for Egypt, for example, it is merely a local choice of beautiful stone representative of Arachosia. The main difference is the content and the features of the text.

4.3. Philology

The PAGC texts present significant philological issues that must be carefully considered through a wide lens in order to find comparable material.

4.3.1. lyd and ʿbd

The use of the verb ʿbd and its relation (or lack thereof) to the complement lyd in these inscriptions has caused much debate among scholars since Bowman attempted to interpret ʿbd as “to use” (Bowman 1970, pp. 38–40) and lyd as “besides”—the former being wholly untenable (as noted by all of Bowman’s critics) and the latter rare and unjustified. The meaning of the syntagm ʿbd lyd in the PAGC—whether understood as directly related to one another or not—is not easy to determine. The obvious must first be stated: lyd is a composite of the preposition l_ “to, into” and yd “hand.” Therefore, this syntagm is a form of ʿbd l_ or its equivalents ʿbd ʾl/ʿl. For the sole purpose of explaining the PAGC, the Dictionary of Northwest Semitic Inscriptions (Hoftijzer et al. 1995, pp. 436–37 [henceforth DNWSI]) proposed a semantic division: the first takes the meaning “at the disposal of,” e.g., in PAGC 12:2–3, krbr ʿbd ʾbswn lyd dtmtr gnzbrʾ “Krbr has made a pestle at the disposal of (intended for) the treasurer D”, and the second has the sense of “under the authority of…”, e.g., in PAGC 18:1, bsrk byrtʾ lyd mtrk sgnʾ “in the fortress of S. (which is) under the authority of the segan mtrk” (DNWSI, 437). Although the DNWSI does not highlight this, the first case contains the instances where lyd is governed by the verb ʿbd, while in the second, no verb appears in the sentence (i.e., a verb is implied). However, the only examples provided by the DNWSI for the first scenario (citing, inter alia, Naveh and Shaked’s article mentioned above) are from the PAGC themselves, creating a circular argument.

In fact, both interpretations of lyd as either “at the disposal of” or “under the authority of” are set on weak foundations. For the first case, the DNWSI appeals to previous scholarship that takes the Nisa ostraca as parallels. These texts have been rightly compared to the PAGC since they are also purely administrative texts and often use a very similar formula with lyd N. In their original publication of these ostraca, Diakonoff and Livshits suggested reading lyd as “at the disposal of” (Diakonoff and Livshits 1960, pp. 28–29, note 34) based on a footnote in Walter Henning’s entry where he asserts—without explanation—that it is “in the sense of the other BYD” (apud Hoffmann et al. 1958, p. 27, note 2). However, the Nisa ostraca always use lyd in the formula mn-l(yd)—i.e., a “from-to” formula, for example: mn krmʾ N lyd D (or mn N lyd pḥtʾ mn krmʾ), denoting a transfer. The construct lyd in the Nisa ostraca is always governed by an implied verb denoting a “from-to” transfer action (“given”, “remitted”, “made over to”, and so on). This sense of “to give” was originally and insightfully implied by Cameron (apud Schmidt): “In … the fortress, into the hand of N the sgnʾ” (Schmidt 1957, p. 55, emphasis added). Bernard, agreeing with Cameron, underlined the fact—also known to Bowman (Bowman 1970, p. 39)—that the expression “into the hand” reflects an Old-Iranian formulation recorded in the Bīsotūn inscription: Auramazdā manā dastayā akunauš (“Ahuramazdā made (=delivered) them into my hand” (DB IV, 35) (Bernard 1972, p. 171; see, more recently, Barnea 2025a; Panaino 2022, pp. 223–35). In fact, apart from rare cases where it means “besides,” the expression lyd (or ʾl/ʿl yd) always denotes a transfer of some kind—often made to a person in a position of authority.14 This sense for ʾl yd is also reflected in the biblical book of Esther where the sense is clearly a physical “transfer”: “And they gathered every beautiful young virgin to Susa the fortress to the house of the women into the custody of Hegai the eunuch of the king, custodian of the women.” (Esth 2:3, my translation, emphasis added).15

In any case, the preposition l_/ʾl/ʿl retains its full force and does not suddenly take the sense of b_ “at” or “in.” Moreover, it is the governing verb that assigns specific meanings to an expression. In Imperial Aramaic, when ʿbd explicitly modifies the prepositions ʾl/ʿl/ l_, the meaning is “to transfer over/make over” (cf. Kaufman 1986– s.v. ˁbd [b, w. ˁl, l_] [henceforth CAL])—as initially read by Folmer (2021, p. 266)—an expression strikingly similar to the English “to make over to sb.” Beyond the aforementioned example from Bīsotūn, this use of the Aramaic verb ʿbd seems to have been properly Iranian rather than Arachosian, as proposed by Bernard. This is reflected in Aršama’s correspondence and in administrative records from Egypt. For example: ”bring them into my property, mark them with my slave-mark, and make them over to my household” (Porten and Yardeni 1986–1999, A6.10:7, emphasis added [henceforth TADAE]).16 This is precisely the use (ʿbd ʿl) found in the PAGC with the complement lyd—i.e., ʿbd lyd PN.17 The form ʿbdw, which appears in a few of the PAGC—all from prkn, as noted by Naveh and Shaked (1973, p. 452)—might suggest a local dialectical variant or more than one person offering the iškaru (see below). Naveh and Shaked’s proposal that this might be an imperative is, of course, grammatically possible, but its rarity makes this highly unlikely. The most likely explanation is a constructio ad sensum where a single name stands in for a number of unnamed individuals that are understood to be represented by the named entities—in fact, this case is probably spelled out in PAGC 95:3 kl 2 ʿbdw sḥrʾ.

4.3.2. ʾškr

The term iškaru has a long history—from Ur III to the Achaemenid period—and its meaning is varied (Gelb et al. 1964–2010, s.v. iškaru [henceforth CAD]). In the late Neo-Assyrian, Neo-Babylonian, and Achaemenid eras, it seemed to denote a certain type of contribution to the authorities—a form of tax or “regulated gifts”, as proposed by Henkelman (2017, p. 104). There can hardly be any doubt that ʾškr is the Aramaic rendering of iškaru. It is also found in Hebrew with a sense that seems to denote some sort of tribute or gift—for example, “The men of Dedan traded with you; many islands were your own special markets, in ivory tusks and ebony they brought your iškaru.” (Ezek. 27:15, my translation). A similar passage is found in the Psalms: “The kings of Tarshish and of the islands will render him tribute, the kings of Sheba and Seba will offer iškaru.” (Ps 72:10, my translation).

The term was also recorded at Elephantine in the Achaemenid period on an ostracon fragment (Lozachmeur 2006, vol. 1, 229–30 and vol. 2, XXXX [henceforth CG 62])18:

CC 1 […]◦[…] 2 […]MW inhabitants/those sitting[…] 3 […]ˀNˀ, saying, “I sleep[…] 4 […]◦ in it in Elephantine at night[…] 5 […]◦t ◦◦◦◦◦ 5, which[…]

CV 1 […]◦◦[…] 2 […]⸢f⸣ish to Farna-x◦[(aya)…] 3 […]LH and a house, my iškaru which […] 4 […] Saying Psḥḥnty is before me[…] 5 […]Moreover, said/say[…]

The immediate context in which the expression ʾškry (“my iškaru”) appears is unclear, as the ostracon (Figure 5) is very fragmentary. However, it seems that the ostracon’s author has recently arrived at Elephantine and is spending the night on the island. One can hypothesize that the trip to Elephantine—which, as in the case of the PAGC, was also a byrtʾ (“fortress”)—was made in order to take care of their iškaru. A particularly interesting and enigmatic related term is found on the following line: Psḥḥnty—possibly meaning psḥ-gift (CAL s.v. ḥnh [possibly derived from ḥn “favour”]).19 If it is related to the iškaru preceding it, this can point to the iškaru being associated with “regulated gifts,” or tributes in line with the examples from the Hebrew Bible noted above. Two ostraca from Idumaea also refer to the delivery of ʾškr (Ephʿal and Naveh 1996, # 98, #168), one of which is too fragmentary to provide context, but the other ostracon—already cited above (TAO, 48 [A14.3])—connects the term ʾškr with the lyd formula discussed above: “the ʾškr of Philip, to the hand of ʿabdisi, oil”.

Another term appearing eight times in the PAGC, bz(y), has been viewed as relating to the Iranian bāji- (“tribute,” Elamite baziš, Middle-Persian baǰ) (King 2019, p. 196).20 However, its context and position within the text make this highly unlikely, since it comes immediately after the implement type (sometimes after the indication of its relative size or other descriptors) and is syntactically adjectivally positioned as describing its physical attributes: “pāhra-barana made (this) mortar of bz wrought-stone before āraya(t)-vahuš the sub-treasurer over to Ba[ga-pata the treasurer]” (PAGC 116).21 Had bz(y) been a type of tax/payment here, one would expect it to appear at the end of the text with a designation of the year—as is the case consistently with ʾškr. It is far more likely, based on its usage and positioning within the text, to be a type of stone or one of its defining characteristics—possibly the Iranian name for the green chert.22

4.3.3. ʾlp, plg

Naveh and Shaked note the fact that these are the only two labels of individuals that do not appear in the determined state and suggest that this would make accepting the interpretation of these words as titles difficult. The DNWSI correctly suggests that these are indeed the military terms—but in the sing. abs. (DNWSI s.v. plg6). The sudden switch from determined to absolute states could be explained simply enough as being due to the fact that while there was only one segan or ganzbara (hence, “the segan”, “the treasurer”, and so on), there were several ʾlp and plg in the territory (i.e., “a chiliarch”, “a myriarch”).

Yet the question remains: do these titles actually denote military ranks? Naveh and Shaked read plg as “half,” suggesting that a person would conceivably only be able to afford half a pestle-and-mortar set. This is also difficult to accept, since it is stated very clearly that the person offering the ʾškr made either the pestle or the mortar (or the plate)—hence grammatically, the “half” would relate to the item which he has contributed (see Hinz 1975, p. 379), yet none of these items is a “half”, e.g., half a pestle. This also fails to parallel ʾlp since it cannot be understood as denoting a fraction or a whole, as also conceded by Naveh and Shaked. They thus attempted, hesitantly, to suggest a different reading (alw = “behold”), which can hardly be sustained paleographically, contextually, or stylistically. Hinz’s suggestion (Hinz 1975, 379) to read plg as “Anteil” (“portion”) is likewise farfetched. This is only attested in Syriac or Talmudic Aramaic—and even then, the sense derives from “half”, or “division.” Given these considerations, I accept Bowman’s original interpretation and the DNWSI’s reading of these terms as denoting military titles (see Henkelman 2023, p. 266; Teixidor 1974, pp. 331–32).

4.3.4. hwn, ʾbšwn

Bowman had the early intuition that hwn represents the Avestan havana (“mortar”), as noted in Cameron (Cameron 1948, p. 6). The analysis of the word ʾbšwn is well-presented in Bowman. In addition, Tavernier (2007, p. 415), relating a personal communication with Shaked, suggests derivation from *abišavaka-: abiš-(h)avaka-, “presser” (Cf. Av. aiβi-hu-/hav-, “to press”). Bowman’s readings of an ʾbšwn zy bʾt “pestle of wine” (PAGC 29) and ʾbšwn zy ʾškr “pestle of an intoxicant” (PAGC 62) (Bowman 1970, p. 49) are entirely unsupported, since in the first case, the reading of bʾt cannot be confirmed, and in the second, the ʾškr is simply part of “ʾškr of year 6,” preceded by a zy which is probably a scribal error (Kamioka 1975, p. 53) due to the scribe starting to write the common zy gll (or similar)23 and realizing that he does not have enough space.

4.3.5. šmh

The term šmh, meaning “by name”, is well attested in the Achaemenid period as a naming convention or a “naming phrase,” as Kent calls it.24 Kent noted that “[i]t is a feature of OP style, that is at the first mention of a person (other than the ruling king) or a place (other than of a government province) the name of that person or place should be followed by nāma or nāmā,” proposing cautiously that this is “perhaps based on similar phrasings in Aramaic” (Kent 1950, pp. 97–98). However, Kutscher convincingly argues that the Aramaic usage of šmh is a result of Persian influence, given that it does not occur in Aramaic prior to the Achaemenid period (Kutscher 1954, p. 241)—though, as Kutscher notes, it also occurs in Old Babylonian. The construction of šmh with the numeral 1 is also a common Iranian pattern, as found in the Bīsotūn inscription denoting “a certain PN”—for example, 1 martiya Āçina nāma (“a certain man by the name of Āššina”).

5. Administrative Obligation and Cultic Orthopraxy

Unlike the other inscribed regulated gifts found at Persepolis, the PAGC do not mention a regnal name and epithet—only the current regnal year. Nevertheless, given the comparanda, the nature of their text, and their findspot, the ultimate target of the PAGC was without a doubt the king. The most prominent person mentioned is the Arachosian treasurer, but he is mentioned merely as the official responsible for the overall administrative process—the one who is “intended to facilitate the handling of tribute between Arachosia and Pārsa” (Henkelman 2017, p. 107). Moreover, the texts note the local officials (the sgn and the sub-treasurer) as well as the name of the person offering the gift. These are not mentioned in the other regulated gift inscriptions—but similar bureaucrats must have existed as part of the gift-giving process, nevertheless. Thus, the text seems to reflect an effort to regulate the process of gift-giving more tightly during this period, at least in Arachosia—an effort that was possibly imposed by its satrap(s) at the time.

5.1. The Relation to the Yasna and Mazdean Ritual

As noted throughout this article, the nature of the implements themselves—trays, plates, mortars, and pestles—is significant. They correspond to the implements used in the yasna (rather than merely the haoma) ceremony (Kotwal and Boyd 1991, esp. 64–67; Redard and Daruwalla 2021, pp. 25–26). While it is impossible to know precisely what the performance of the yasna ceremony consisted of in Achaemenid times (Cantera 2017, esp. 60–62), it is at least clear that a similar liturgical setting is depicted on a seal impression (PTS 20*) found at Persepolis (Figure 3 and Figure 4, above), showing, at the center, a mortar with a pestle used in a cultic setting next to an ātašdān, a “fire holder” used for veneration of fire (Boyce 1987, pp. 7–9)—the existence of which is also documented at Elephantine in upper Egypt in the Achaemenid period (Barnea 2024, pp. 5–7). It also depicts two people attending, usually considered to be priests. However, as Boyce rightly remarked, this cannot “represent any enactment of that ceremony in known Zoroastrian usage” (Boyce 1982, p. 146). The person to the right of the seal, holding what seems to be a set of barsom twigs in one hand and a large pole in the other, matches neither in dress nor in posture what one would expect from a priest preparing the haoma. She compares this seal to a similar relief from Dascylion (Figure 6) on which the color has not washed away.

This provides clues as to the profile of this person, and the purple color makes it likely that this is “a military man of rank presiding at some haoma-ceremony of a kind long since forgotten by the Zoroastrian community” (Boyce 1982, pp. 146–47)—possibly the ʾlp or plg mentioned in the PAGC texts denoting the person offering the ʾškr, though, of course, this implies nothing like the “proto-Mithraic” cult imagined by Bowman. Moreover, this man is significantly taller than the one on the left who is holding tongs while tending to the sacred fire—who, in all probability, is a priest (rāspī). The text on the seal reads ḥtm dtm, “seal of dātama”, a hypocoristic of dāta-miϑra (Justi 1895, p. 81; Tavernier 2007, p. 170)—a name found in different variations in Elamite in the fortification tablets (Tavernier 2007, p. 170) and most notably as the name of a treasurer mentioned in about twelve of the PAGC (listed in Bowman 1970, p. 58). Given the depiction of this figure and the differences in visual representation between the two figures, I suggest that the larger figure represents a high ranking dātama25 (though not necessarily the treasurer) rather than a priest—who would, in such a case, act as the sponsor of the ceremony.

In the Mazdean cult, the liturgy has a sponsor who often comes from the laity (Kotwal and Boyd 1991, p. 3; see also Hintze 2004, p. 291). With regards to the haoma specifically, “[a]lmost half of the libation contained in the mortar is infused into the well. The remainder, plus the zōhr in the two cups on the ritual table, will be given to the person(s) who engaged the priests to perform the ceremony” (Kotwal and Boyd 1991, p. 129, note 154)—i.e., the sponsor. I therefore suggest that the yasna-related implements served as ʾškr gift-tributes, symbols of Mazdean orthopraxy and faithfulness to the king. By “orthopraxy” I do not mean to imply that there was anything like strict “orthopraxy” in the Achaemenid empire. However, the imperial administration did encourage certain cultic conformity, as is evident in Xerxes’ XPh inscription, where the practice of worship (yad-) to A^huramazdā and Arta is defined as the correct manner of worship—i.e., as “orthopraxis.” In XPh, it is the yad- (“act of worship” or “sacrifice”) that marks the person as an artavan: “The man who … worships ahuramazdā and the Order^yazata characterized by the exaltation^rite becomes happy (while) alive and possessed by the Order^yazata (when) dead” (my translation from Barnea 2025b; Cf. Hintze forthcoming). The fact that these implements are so closely linked with Arachosia can lend further support to the theory, first advanced by Hoffmann while appealing to these green chert utensils, that Persian–Arachosian relations concerning the Mazdean cult were particularly close (see notably Hoffmann 1979, p. 92).

The ritual might hypothetically have thus also served in an assertory capacity (Magdalene et al. 2010, pp. 14, 26–27)—similar to a modern day “Declaration of Taxpayer”—backed by an oath. As noted by Wiesehöfer, gift-giving conveyed loyalty to king and empire (Wiesehöfer 2001)—or what I call an “economy of fealty” (see also Modi 1937, p. 287). In a Mazdean context, no special curses are required, since the hōm yašt—the text recited immediately prior to the chief priests consuming the parahaoma—includes solemn affirmations and curses by definition. In fact, as noted by Mendoza Forrest, “[i]n the Yasna, Haoma, who was both a god and a plant, attended to most of the curses” (Forrest 2011, p. 151). They thus present the person offering the ʾškr “regulated gift” as an upstanding citizen of the “good order” of the empire, ready to take on a divine penalty should he be found untrue in his tax payments, as he who drinks the haoma takes upon himself serious curses should he be found unrighteous.

5.2. The Formula

Given the data presented above and following the example from Nisa, I suggest reading these texts as tightly controlled regulated gifts. As such, they were administrative documents that needed to travel great distances and be as efficient as possible when being sorted, processed, and handled by various intermediaries along the way, and they were structured as a header and a body (

Table 2. Structure of the PAGC texts.

Header	Shows where the transaction originated and who is its immediate governing authority at the fortress.
Body (with the header)	Intended for the accountants at Persepolis and for the ʾškr’s ultimate addressee—the treasurer. It notes the name of the person making the ʾškr donation and who transferred the implement (pestle, mortar, plate, tray, or a combination thereof) to the treasurer, sometimes a description of the object and the regnal year.

).

The header—comprising the first sentence of the formula—was meant to provide the most succinct information to enable initial triage (at the Arachosian fortress or at Persepolis) and is structured similarly to the Nisa documents: verbless, with a “make over to” formula (lyd) with the name of the sgn, “[i]n N the fortress [made over to] PN sgnʾ”. This is followed by the body of the text, which provides complete information for the accountants at the item’s final destination: Persepolis. This is very similar to the way official papyri were written and transmitted, with an outside address and a letter body (Lindenberger 2003, pp. 7–10; Schwiderski 2000, esp. 102–3). One could easily imagine a whole stack of a few dozen or hundreds of these implements deposited at the fortress and intended for a sgn (sometimes also called a sgnʾ rbʾ, for example, in PAGC 2). The person responsible for the triage of these implements would only need to parse the header to know how to sort it and had no need to read the whole text.

5.3. The Process

Ever since Bowman proposed a process by which these inscribed implements were part of a haoma ceremony at Persepolis, scholars have been driven to offer alternative scenarios (e.g., Gershevitch 1974, p. 54, mentioned above; Briant 2002, p. 433; King 2019, p. 197). Expanding on the scenario already proposed by Bernard (1972, p. 173) and based on the observations above, I would like to suggest the following scenario for ʾškr donations—at least by Mazdeans—in the Achaemenid empire:

The Mazdean ʾškr-donor would bring his (regular) tax payment to a local fortress (Parikana, Elephantine, and so on). Much like dāta-miϑra, who is probably depicted in the abovementioned seal impression found at Persepolis, he would sponsor a yasna ceremony there in order to show his loyalty, his “orthopraxy,” and rejection of “the Lie”—thus making him cosmically accountable for his truthfulness.

My reasoning for suggesting that the ʾškr-donor was a sponsor is twofold: First and foremost, as highlighted above, it is by drinking the haoma that a Mazdean adherent takes upon his person the serious oaths and curses that give this tribute an assertory capacity (Modi 1937, p. 287)—and, as stated, the only non-priest who drinks the haoma is the sponsor.26 Second, in dāta-miϑra’s seal, he shows himself as a non-priest (as explained above) partaking in what is most probably a yasna—with the implements required to prepare the haoma at the center. This suggests that engaging in sponsorship of rituals may have been seen as a definitive attribute of Mazdeans at the time.

As proof of his participation and honesty before the supreme powers, he would accompany his tax payment with a regulated gift—possibly semantically close to the Greek ἀντίδοσις (LSJ s.v. ἀντί-δοσις). The gift would have been fashioned by a kurtaš craftsman—whether the implement(s) was/were used in this ceremony or not—on which the administrative text (header and body) providing the necessary information was written by the scribe. The utensil would be “made over,” or “transferred” to the local sgn, sometimes in the presence of the local ʾpgnzbr (“sub-treasurer”) (Naveh and Shaked 1973, p. 450; see also Hinz 1975, p. 375), with the highest administrative authority to which the ʾškr was made (=given) being the treasurer and the ultimate addressee being the king. The formula seems to have sometimes been pre-written—with enough time to make sure the ink would be dry enough not to get wiped out during the liturgy and the pressing of the haoma—with the scribe filling in the name of the ʾškr-giver as needed. PAGC 62 (Figure 7) seems to represent such a template formula.

Regarding the actual use of the items—specifically the mortar and pestle—it should be noted that no tests have been made thus far to determine if any residue has remained on them to establish their use. This is not surprising, since finding specific “evidence of use” in such ancient material is notoriously difficult and, according to my proposed scenario, at least, the implements may have been used only once on soft and malleable twigs, which would have left very little trace. In a study on use-wear analysis of household ceramic pottery, it was found that only 2% of the “bottoms” (i.e., the bottom of the bowl or mortar in which food was ground) show use-traces (Vieugué 2014, p. 626). I hope that, in the future, an attempt would be made to examine the PAGC from an archeozoological perspective, but in the case of the PAGC, where the material is not ceramic but strong chert, the chances of finding evidence of use are slim.

6. Conclusions

This article aims to provide a new, more detailed, and holistic approach to the analysis of the PAGC. The conclusions of this study recalibrate their interpretation back to a middle-ground between two extremes. I thus examine both the materiality of the PAGC and their texts with equal attention. As opposed to Bowman, I read the texts as fully administrative and devoid of any cultic features. In contrast with the newer interpretations—most notably by Henkelman and King, who disregard the intentions expressed by the shape into which the PAGC were fashioned and seek to also strip the physical aspect of these implements from any cultic interpretation—I argue that they were crafted to show cultic orthopraxy and, ultimately, imperial fealty. As reasoned above, taking their full context into account, the PAGC cannot be characterized as “royal tableware.” Their consistent design is strictly limited to four implements: trays, plates, mortars, and pestles, which, as a set, correspond directly to the yasna ritual. Therefore, combining the texts and the quadripartite set of cultic implements, I suggest that the administrative nature of the tribute was backed by a cultic element—probably by taking on the curses prescribed in the hōm yašt but in any event intended to serve as statement of loyalty and cosmic trustworthiness.