Hostname: page-component-78c5997874-v9fdk Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2024-11-04T20:59:54.746Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false

Bridlington Boulevard Revisited: New Insights into Pit and Post-hole Cremations in Neolithic Britain

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  15 March 2024

Jake T. Rowland
Affiliation:
Archaeology University of Southampton Avenue Campus Highfield Road Southampton SO17 1BF UK Email: [email protected]
Jess E. Thompson
Affiliation:
McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research University of Cambridge Downing Street Cambridge CB2 3ER UK Email: [email protected]
Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

The majority of excavated human remains from Neolithic Britain emanate from monumental sites. However, it is increasingly recognized that multiple funerary practices are often attested within these monuments, and that diverse treatment of the dead is evident contemporaneously at non-monumental sites. In this paper, we highlight such variation in non-monumental funerary practices in Neolithic Britain (c. 4000–2500 bc) through the biographical study of an assemblage from a large post-hole at Bridlington Boulevard, Yorkshire. Through osteological and taphonomic analysis of the human bones and technological and microwear analysis of the accompanying axehead, we infer complex funerary processes, with the expediently manufactured axehead potentially featuring in the funerary rites and subsequent post-raising before being deposited in the feature. Bridlington Boulevard represents one element of a varied funerary complex—cremations in pits and post-holes—at a time when most individuals were not deposited in monuments, or indeed were not deposited at all. Compiling these non-monumental cremations across Britain causes us to look beyond categorizing these assemblages as funerary contexts, and instead suggests important cosmological associations and forces were brought together in pit and post-and-human cremation deposits.

Type
Research Article
Creative Commons
Creative Common License - CCCreative Common License - BY
This is an Open Access article, distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits unrestricted re-use, distribution and reproduction, provided the original article is properly cited.
Copyright
Copyright © The Author(s), 2024. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of the McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research

Introduction

Neolithic (c. 4000–2500 bc) funerary practices in Britain represent a diverse range of strategies for dealing with the dead (Gibson Reference Gibson, Brophy, MacGregor and Ralston2016; Jones Reference Jones and Pollard2008; Thomas Reference Thomas2000; Willis Reference Willis2019). Our understanding of these actions is often skewed by the large assemblages of inhumed, cremated and disarticulated remains from megalithic and earthen monuments: henges, timber and stone circles, round and long barrows, ring ditches, tombs and cairns. Despite this wealth of evidence, these evidently do not represent the total Neolithic population of the British Isles, suggesting that the majority of individuals were subject to funerary practices that are difficult, or indeed impossible, to detect in the archaeological record (Brophy et al. Reference Brophy, MacGregor, Noble, Bickle and Sibbesson2018; Gibson Reference Gibson, Brophy, MacGregor and Ralston2016; Jones Reference Jones and Pollard2008).

Non-monumental deposits of human remains are increasingly recognized as an important but under-represented feature of British Neolithic funerary practices (Brophy et al. Reference Brophy, MacGregor, Noble, Bickle and Sibbesson2018; Schulting Reference Schulting, Larsson, Lüth and Terberger2007; Willis Reference Willis2019). These include a diverse range of potential methods for processing the dead body, such as exposure (Evans & Simpson Reference Evans and Simpson1991; Smith Reference Smith2006; Whittle et al. Reference Whittle, Wysocki, Richards, Rouse, Walker and Zienkiewicz1998), the placement of human remains into waterways (e.g. rivers, lakes or seas) and other natural features (e.g. caves, rock fissures, sinkholes) (Peterson Reference Peterson2019; Schulting Reference Schulting, Larsson, Lüth and Terberger2007), isolated flat graves, pit and post-hole deposits (Brophy & Noble Reference Brophy, Noble, Anderson Whymark and Thomas2011), incorporation into the fabric of pots as bone temper (Smith & Darvill Reference Smith, Darvill and Saville1990), and scattering cremated remains over the ground surface, or perhaps simply being left to blow in the wind (Brophy et al. Reference Brophy, MacGregor, Noble, Bickle and Sibbesson2018).

The majority of these practices leave little to no readily interpretable archaeological traces. Schulting (Reference Schulting, Larsson, Lüth and Terberger2007) has already highlighted the difficulties with interpreting finds from waterways, in contrast to depositions in caves and flat graves which have a long history of research, with significant numbers of individuals having been recovered and studied (Barnatt & Edmonds Reference Barnatt and Edmonds2002; Chamberlain Reference Chamberlain1996; Peterson Reference Peterson2019; Schulting Reference Schulting, Larsson, Lüth and Terberger2007; Reference Schulting2020). The same cannot be said for deposits (predominantly of cremated bone) in often isolated non-monumental pit and post-hole features (Fig. 1; Table 1). Such sites are difficult to identify prior to archaeological intervention; they are not marked above ground by upstanding earthworks, nor do they appear as distinct feature types which differentiates them from non-funerary pits in remote sensing data. Funerary pits and post-holes—and any human remains they contain—can only be recognized directly through excavation, and as a result are probably under-represented in the archaeological record. Identifying and interpreting this range of non-monumental funerary sites, and the people deposited in them, is critical if we are to approach a fuller understanding of the breadth of Neolithic funerary practices in Britain.

Figure 1. Location of Bridlington Boulevard and other Neolithic non-monumental cremations from mainland Britain.

Table 1. Summary of Neolithic non-monumental cremations from mainland Britain. Radiocarbon dates in bold indicate direct dates on cremated bone.

In this paper, we document a biographical study of a non-monumental post-hole deposit at Bridlington Boulevard in East Yorkshire highlighting the interpretive potential of these features and the assemblages they contain. Biographical studies of whole funerary contexts have provided intimate insights into specific practices, burial assemblages and the identity of the deceased (e.g. Fitzpatrick Reference Fitzpatrick2013; Jones Reference Jones2016; Little et al. Reference Little, van Gijn and Collins2017; Wentink Reference Wentink2020). Our analysis integrates the methodological and conceptual tools of object biography and funerary taphonomy to reconstruct the production and use of the flint axehead and the post-mortem treatment of the human remains. Setting the Boulevard site within its broader temporal context, we draw on comparative data on other pit and post-hole cremation deposits. In so doing, it becomes clear that cremations often were not central features of these deposits. As a result, we argue that cremations in non-monumental contexts should not a priori be categorized as funerary deposits. Instead, by paying attention to the materials drawn together in these assemblages, other items or acts may assume priority, for example, cremations may commemorate posts, rather than the other way around. Further, a posthuman perspective leads us to the proposition that cremations in pits and post-holes were qualitatively different things.

Bridlington Boulevard

During the rescue excavation of a medieval post mill by J.R. Earnshaw in 1969 at Bessingby Hill, Bridlington (N.G.R. TA 166676), a large Neolithic post-hole was excavated and found to contain cremated human remains and an edge-ground flint axehead (Fig. 2; Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973). The site, known locally as ‘The Boulevard’, is located 2 km from the sea, on the northern bank of the Gypsey Race, a river that follows an easterly course down to the sea at Bridlington. After excavation, finds were washed, archived, and the human remains partially reconstructed. The Boulevard site was briefly reported on in the Yorkshire Archaeological Journal (Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973), but until now, full post-excavation analysis and reporting has not been undertaken.

Figure 2. Plan and section of the Bridlington Boulevard post-hole (redrawn from Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973, fig. 3) with inset image of flint axehead. (N.B. Context letters have been assigned retrospectively.)

The post-hole

The feature was sub-oval in plan and measured c. 1.8×2.5 m with steeply sloping sides merging with a flat base at a depth of c. 0.76 m (Fig. 2). A ramp appears to have been present at the western edge of the post-hole, although this had been truncated by a medieval foundation trench. According to the excavation records, the post-hole cut an earlier pit (labelled as 1 on Figure 2) which contained a ‘few flint flakes and a burnt flint scraper’ (Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973, 24). On the basis of its stratigraphic relationship, Earnshaw suggested the earlier feature was Mesolithic, although the character of the lithic assemblage would suggest a more probable Neolithic date. It is uncertain if this truncation was purely coincidental or represents intentional re-cutting or re-marking of an earlier deposit that was still visible on the surface.

The post appears to have been positioned against the east side of the cut, with the small deposit of cremated human remains placed near the foot of the post immediately after it was raised into place. Brown and yellow-brown sand, probably upcast from digging the feature, was subsequently used to pack around the base of the post. A number of burnt timbers and large charcoal deposits, possibly the remains of pyre debris or evidence of in situ burning prior to post raising, were also incorporated into this packing material. One timber lay in an east–west direction (Fig. 2), and two others reportedly crossed this in a north–south direction, but were removed by workmen before drawings could be made (Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973, 22). Unfortunately, none of these posts were recovered during excavation and no information regarding their species or size was obtained.

Overlying these timbers were packing stones of ‘sandstone, quartzite and volcanic rock’ (Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973, 22), probably obtained from the local glacial till deposits. These were placed in a crescentic distribution around the post and indicate the timber would have had a diameter of up to 0.7 m, potentially accommodating a large tree trunk, although conceivably may have been smaller. From the section drawings, which are offset from the centre of the feature, it is unclear whether a post pipe had been present. However, the position of the packing stones, which appear to be undisturbed, would suggest the post had been left to decay in situ. Prior to backfilling, a flint axehead, possibly still in its haft, was deposited on top of the largest packing stone. This represents one of only two cremations associated with an axehead from a British Neolithic context.

Unfortunately, the feature could not be directly dated, given that none of the human bone fragments were fully calcined. However, the presence of the edge-ground flint axehead implies a likely Mid–Late Neolithic (c. 3500–2500 bc) date for the deposit (Manby Reference Manby, Clough and Cummins1979; Pitts Reference Pitts1996). Flint debitage, sherds of Grimston Ware, a discoidal core and a number of scrapers have been found in the immediate vicinity of the post-hole, perhaps relating to intermittent activity at the site (Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973). However, no other Neolithic features were identified in the immediate vicinity of the post-hole, suggesting it was not part of a settlement or other structure, monument, or arrangement of posts. Since the post did not form part of a larger structure, it may be suggested that it was erected to mark the position of the cremation deposit. Alternatively, given the size of the post, the small quantity of cremated remains and the wider context of pit and post-hole cremations, as we discuss below, a non-anthropocentric perspective asks us to consider the proposition that the cremation instead commemorated the post-raising event.

Human remains

Analysis of the human remains assessed age, sex, palaeopathology and taphonomic modifications (following Buikstra & Ubelaker Reference Buikstra and Ubelaker1994; Mitchell & Brickley Reference Mitchell and Brickley2017). The remains weigh 191.4 g, although their weight has been increased by consolidants previously applied to restore the calotte. It was not necessary to sieve the remains, as they had already been separated from sediment. The bones were examined macroscopically and with a hand lens (10× magnification). A 3D model of the reconstructed calotte was created using structure from motion in 3DF Zephyr (see Supplementary material).

The original report describes the human remains as comprising ‘large pieces of human skull and an atlas vertebra, all of which had been partially cremated’ (Earnshaw Reference Earnshaw1973, 23). The reconstructed partial calotte (cranium lacking the bones of both the face and base) encompasses part of the right and left parietal bones and the posterior portion of the occipital bone; the parietal bones and the occipital bone are incomplete (Fig. 3). A further 22 small cranial fragments cannot be re-fitted. The human remains encompass more elements than originally recognized, including five fragments of cervical vertebrae, two fragments of the right scapula and two fragments probably of the right clavicle, as well as further small unidentifiable fragments (Fig. 4). These comprise parts of the head and neck and the right shoulder. Given that not all of the skeletal elements from this region are represented (e.g. rib fragments are present, but not thoracic vertebrae, to which the ribs articulate anatomically, and there are no mandible fragments), it is reasonable to suggest that these remains were already disarticulated when they were deposited.

Figure 3. Reconstructed calotte: (a) antero-superior view; (b) left lateral view, displaying breakage on the extant left parietal bone; (c) postero-inferior view; (d) right lateral view, displaying uneven burning concentrated on the right parietal and occipital bones.

Figure 4. Cranial fragments which cannot be refitted to calotte (A); and postcranial fragments identifiable to element: (B) right scapula and clavicle; (C) rib; (D) cervical vertebrae, displaying varied extents of burning.

The cranium retains only the nuchal crest for sex estimation, which is rugose, an expression of the trait which is usually observed in males. However, multiple traits across several elements should be consulted to produce an osteological sex estimation: therefore we prefer to classify the cranium as of undetermined sex. The morphology of the cranium is adult, although glue across the extant portions of the sagittal and lambdoid sutures prevents examination of suture closure. Traces of healed porotic hyperostosis are observed on the extant right and left parietal bones, as well as on the right side of the extant occipital planum. The cranial bone is hyperostotic; along the fragmentation margins, thickening of the inner and outer tables and the diploё is observed. Potential aetiologies of porotic hyperostosis include (but are not limited to): anaemia (acquired, genetic, or iron-deficiency), B12 deficiency, scalp infections, parasitic or gastro-intestinal infections, and poor vitamin absorption (Brickley Reference Brickley2018; Stuart-Macadam Reference Stuart-Macadam1985; Reference Stuart-Macadam1992; Walker et al. Reference Walker, Bathurst, Richman, Gjerdrum and Andrushko2009), and more generally indicates period(s) of illness during growth.

Taphonomic analysis

Taphonomic analysis is used to infer funerary practices through observations of human remains in situ in their archaeological context (archaeothanatology) and post-excavation examination of bone surface and internal changes (Duday Reference Duday2009; Fernández-Jalvo & Andrews Reference Fernández-Jalvo and Andrews2016). Interpreting the original position or treatment of the body, the stage/s of funerary practices and their sequence provides deeper insights into ritual practices and beliefs surrounding death and dying (Duday Reference Duday2009; Knüsel & Robb Reference Knüsel and Robb2016).

Analysis of the Bridlington Boulevard remains was limited to surface modifications, specifically the characteristics of fragmentation edges (Outram Reference Outram2001; Wieberg & Wescott Reference Wieberg and Wescott2008); animal damage (Fernández-Jalvo & Andrews Reference Fernández-Jalvo and Andrews2016); weathering (Behrensmeyer Reference Behrensmeyer1978); processing, e.g. via cutmarks or percussion marks (Crozier Reference Crozier2018; White Reference White1992) and burning, including colour, shape changes, cracking patterns, the weight of the deposit, and identifiable elements to attempt to determine the number of individuals (McKinley Reference McKinley, Brickley and McKinley2004).

No evidence of gnawing, percussion damage, or cutmarks were observed on any fragments. Minor root etching and sediment adhesion is present on the cranial bones, as well as patchy staining likely from iron-rich deposits in the feature. On the endocranial (internal) surface of the calotte, the bone is unburnt in places, interspersed with patchy charring and black speckling from mineral staining. Dark brown charring is observed in areas of the occipital bone and the right parietal bone (Fig. 3d), with patchy mid-brown charring on the left parietal bone. On the ectocranial (external) surface, the bone is incompletely burnt; the extant right parietal bone exhibits more dark brown to black charring than the rest of the calotte. A small portion of the right lambdoid suture is charred black and an area on the inferior nuchal line is burnt light grey to white in colour. Inferior to this and surrounding the posterior arch of the foramen magnum is an area of dark brown charring. On the right parietal bone, patches of dark brown to black charring emanate superiorly from the lateral fragmentation margin. Traversing the superior temporal line, an area of fine ‘checked’ cracking is observed within the charred bone. In contrast, the left parietal bone is mostly unburnt except for a small area of light grey burning comprising patches of white calcination and fine cracking. From the margins, calcination is visible only on the outer table.

Most fragmentation margins are jagged or straight, with a rough texture, and the lateral fragmentation margin on the right parietal bone is fully burnt, suggesting that it was broken before cremation. The lateral fragmentation margins on the left parietal bone are more complex. Several fragments have been re-fitted and glued together in the area of the temporal line, with some small fragments missing. Nevertheless, the fragmentation margin in the mid-portion of the element presents greater removal of the outer table and bevelling across the diploё, although in places it is truncated by modern damage (Fig. 3b). Along this bevelled fragmentation margin, there is up to 12.9 mm greater removal of the outer table than the inner table. Within the diploё in this area there is mid-brown discolouration, but it cannot be determined if this is sediment staining or charring. This breakage pattern is uncommon on crania and typical of perimortem breakage, or breakage in the short period post mortem where some collagen is retained (Ribeiro et al. Reference Ribeiro, Jordana and Scheirs2020). It is unlikely to represent perimortem trauma, as no concentric or radiating fractures are observed extending from the margins (Redfern & Roberts Reference Redfern, Roberts and Buikstra2019). Instead, this bevelling strongly suggests post-mortem processing of the human remains. Given that this side of the cranium is largely unburnt, it cannot be determined whether this breakage occurred pre- or post burning.

Two re-fitting fragments of right scapula are burnt black; two fragments of the distal portion of the right clavicle are almost fully charred to a dark grey/black colour; five fragments derive from cervical vertebrae, and two re-fit to form part of the posterior arch of the atlas. None of the remaining fragments can be attributed to the axis, and may represent two or three further cervical vertebrae. All vertebral fragments are charred to a dark brown/grey colour with irregular and rough fragmentation margins. Wysocki and Schulting (Reference Wysocki and Schulting2005, 128) suggested that the association of the atlas vertebra with the cranium may indicate the individual had been decapitated, either peri- or post mortem. However, this was not based on firsthand analysis and is not supported based on the extant remains. A further 13 fragments 12.9–25.1 mm in maximum length present differing extents of burning; of these, cortical thickness suggests that three are long-bone fragments, eight are rib fragments and two are unidentifiable. Finally, 101 small fragments 2–9.9 mm in maximum length, all unidentifiable to element, were partially or completely charred black.

There is currently no consensus regarding identifying whether remains were burnt fleshed or while the bone was ‘dry’ (Correia Reference Correia, Haglund and Sorg1997). Results from recent histo-taphonomic studies are contradictory (Lemmers et al. Reference Lemmers, Gonçalves, Cunha, Vassalo and Appleby2020; Végh et al. Reference Végh, Czermak, Márquez-Grant and Schulting2021). Some studies have found distinctions in fracture types produced when bone is burnt fleshed or fresh (‘green’) versus when it is burnt dry (Baby Reference Baby1954; Binford Reference Binford1963; Symes et al. Reference Symes, L'Abbé, Stull, Lacroix, Pokines, Pokines and Symes2014a). It is generally expected that fleshed bones will fracture in a curved or diagonal outline, with deep or thumbnail cracking, fissures and/or curling and warping. Some experimental studies have failed to produce these results (Buikstra & Swegle Reference Buikstra, Swegle, Bonnichsen and Sorg1989; Thurman & Willmore Reference Thurman and Willmore1980) and others have reported characteristics which overlap with those reported in different categories elsewhere (Heglar Reference Heglar, Rathburn and Buikstra1984; Webb & Snow Reference Webb and Snow1974; Wells Reference Wells1960). In unburnt bone, there is a clearer pattern to fractures in fresh versus dry or demineralized bone (Wieberg & Wescott Reference Wieberg and Wescott2008). However, heat alteration of bone accelerates its brittle quality (Symes et al. Reference Symes, L'Abbé, Pokines, Yuzwa, Messer, Stromquist, Keough, Pokines and Symes2014b) and characteristically dry bone fractures may occur from the cremation process, even if the body is burned while fleshed. The uneven distribution of burning across the remains, the low temperatures needed to achieve such, and the observation of burning across some fragmentation margins indicate that the remains were cremated or burnt unevenly, perhaps when already dry.

As the fragments represent a selective deposit of an incomplete skeleton, it is not possible to determine whether the whole body or skeleton was burnt, or whether only part of their remains was. The greater extent of burning on the right side of the calotte suggests that, if burnt on a pyre, they were placed on their right side. The occipital is generally late to burn during cremation of a fleshed body (Symes et al. Reference Symes, L'Abbé, Pokines, Yuzwa, Messer, Stromquist, Keough, Pokines and Symes2014b, 380), as the body may take on a contracted or pugilistic posture (the head and neck will hyperextend, protecting the occipital region with greater soft tissue coverage). Symes et al. (Reference Symes, Rainwater, Chapman, Gipson, Piper, Schmidt and Symes2008) note that heterogeneous burning is expected on crania burnt while fleshed. On the other hand, they may have been exposed to an open fire if burnt in situ in the post-hole, and therefore the left side would have been in contact with the base of the feature. Since the cranium presents only patchy charring and slight calcination, it indicates burning at a moderate, inconsistent temperature (probably between 300° and 600°C) with incomplete oxidization, perhaps of already dry bone. The bevelled edge observed on the left parietal bone, which exhibits only minor charring, indicates intentional modification while the bone was relatively fresh.

At least two stages of funerary treatment are inferred: breakage of the cranium while the bone was fresh, and burning or cremation at a low temperature of probably dry bones. Questions remain as to the sequence of these actions, whether only part of the skeleton was burnt, or whether the skeleton was burnt and only part later deposited in the post-hole. If only part was burnt, an earlier stage of exposure or primary deposition could have been carried out. If, instead, the skeleton had been burnt, then it appears that most of the remains were disposed of in alternate ways.

The flint axehead

The edge-ground axehead (Fig. 5) measures 99 mm long, 46 mm wide and 18 mm thick and has been made from locally available wolds flint. The flint is opaque grey in colour; however, the butt end of the axehead has been stained yellow-orange, probably from contact with iron rich sandy soil in the fill (similar to staining on some of the burnt bone fragments). The butt of the axehead has broken off across a large stony inclusion in the flint. Part of this break is iron-stained, indicating that it occurred in antiquity. However, the fracture pattern is not consistent with deliberate breakage (Anderson-Whymark Reference Anderson-Whymark2011), suggesting it occurred during either manufacture or use. The axehead was unburnt, demonstrating that it did not accompany the human remains during burning.

Figure 5. The flint axehead showing location of wear traces and micrographs discussed in the text. Micrograph images are found separately in Figure 6.

Flaking has removed any trace of the type of blank (nodule or flake) the axehead was produced from. The absence of any thinning flakes, and the large size of the negative bulbs of many of the flake scars, suggest the axehead was knapped using hard hammer percussion only. A number of the platforms along the lateral edge of the axehead have been crushed, indicating poor platform preparation, and a noticeable twist is evident along its length. This may be due to a low level of skill and experience of the knapper or may reflect rapid manufacture of the axehead, with little regard for its aesthetic appearance. The axehead has been ground along its cutting edge and partly along the spine, although this is not extensive, suggesting the activity was undertaken with a level of expediency.

Microwear analysis

Wear traces develop on the surface of an object as a result of use and the various treatments they undergo throughout their lives. Experiments undertaken using replica objects have demonstrated that the character of these wear traces, consisting of striations, edge removals, edge rounding and polish, vary according to the contact material (e.g. bone, antler, wood, bark, plants, mineral, hide, etc.), the activity or motion involved and the duration and intensity of use (Keeley Reference Keeley1980; Semenov Reference Semenov1964; van Gijn Reference van Gijn1990). By mapping the distribution of wear traces across the surface of an object, we can provide details about the sequence of artefact manufacture, use, reuse, re-sharpening, hafting, prehension, alongside non-utilitarian traces such as wrapping, sheath wear, or storage (Rots Reference Rots2010; van Gijn Reference van Gijn2010; Wentink Reference Wentink2020).

Microwear analysis utilized a GT Visions GxM-100 metallographic microscope (50–500×) to study the distribution, character and directionality of the polishes and other wear traces in detail, facilitating the interpretation of specific contact materials. All inferences are based on analogy with experimentally obtained wear traces, so strictly speaking they constitute interpretations and not identifications (van Gijn Reference van Gijn2014). All traces were described and photographed at 200× magnification, using a GXCAM-U3 18MP camera and GX Capture software, and stacked using Helicon Focus 6.8.0 software.

Microwear analysis of the axehead revealed very clear traces of manufacture. After having been knapped, the axehead was partially ground with a coarse abrasive stone. This resulted in uniform striations orientated transverse to the cutting edge, covering the ground areas of the implement (Fig. 6.12). Their uniform size and shape suggest the axehead was ground on a single stone, unlike the multi-staged grinding process seen on some ground flint implements (Rowland Reference Rowlandforthcoming).

Figure 6. Wear traces: (5, 7 & 9) wood hafting traces (×200 magnification); (12) grinding traces (×100); (14) heavily rounded cutting edge associated with polish development (×200).

Once the blade had been ground, the implement was hafted. Hafting bright spots were identified on a prominent point on the lateral edge of the implement (Fig. 6.5) and on prominent flake scar ridges in the interior of the axehead (Fig. 6.9). These patches of bright flat polish are only present on the high surface topography suggesting contact with a hard material. Striations, made up of smaller jitter marks in both transverse and longitudinal directions, are also present within the polish along with a small number of pits. In some locations where these patches are developing, the polish has a slightly rougher character. Hafting bright spots are a recurrent feature on axeheads, typically appearing on the high topography, resulting from friction between the axehead and its haft, directly as a result of use (Rots Reference Rots2010). However, the more limited extent and development of individual zones of hafting traces on the Bridlington Boulevard axehead suggests contact with the haft was short-lived.

On the inside of flake scars on the lateral edge of the axehead (Figures 6.7a & 6.7b) are developed patches of bright and smooth reticulated polish, which are starting to become linked. The polish is only present on the tops of grains and prominent ridges, associated with heavy rounding of these areas, suggesting a moderate hardness to the material. There is clear directionality in the polish and some short striations, oriented parallel to the longitudinal axis of the implement. The traces are interpreted as wood polish resulting from contact with a wooden haft. Hafting traces covered the central portion of the axehead, suggesting the blade, and a small portion of the butt, protruded from the haft. The small number of wooden Neolithic axe hafts known from Britain indicate the butt of an axehead often protruded from the back socket of the haft and thus was not subject to significant wear during use (Taylor Reference Taylor and Pryor1998).

The cutting edge of the axehead is heavily rounded and some microflaking is present, consistent with the axehead having been used. This is associated with a moderately bright, rough polish developing along the edge of the implement, eroding ridges between grinding striations (Fig. 6.14). The polish contains a number of small irregular pits and has transverse directionality. These traces are poorly developed but beginning to form over the high surface topography, suggesting contact with a medium–hard material, probably wood. Unfortunately, interpretation of the specific contact material was not possible due to the limited development of wear traces along the cutting edge. This may, in part, result from the short contact time between the axehead and its contact material.

Biography of an axehead

The absence of well-developed hafting traces, combined with the poorly developed wear traces along the cutting edge, suggests the axehead was used for a relatively short period of time. The absence of resharpening bevels along the cutting edge and the uniformity in the grinding traces indicate that the axehead was not re-ground, implying a short, perhaps even single, phase of use. Indeed, it is possible that these traces may correspond to the length of time it would take to fell and/or carve the post which stood in the post-hole, and/or perhaps felling wood to fuel the pyre. Additionally, the post may have been carved with images, symbols or figures, though this is purely speculative. Nonetheless, it is likely that the Bridlington Boulevard axehead played an active part in the events surrounding the post-raising.

It may be tempting to view the axehead as a grave good, but the object was both physically and temporally (in depositional sequence) separated from the cremated remains. Its unburnt state provides confirmation that the implement was not burnt with the deceased. Moreover, given its short use-life, the axehead was unlikely to have been a treasured personal possession, or an object with inalienable ties to the deceased, although it may have become ‘problematic’ through association to the deceased during life (Büster Reference Büster2021). Instead, we favour the interpretation that the axehead was commissioned after death, to be made and used specifically for the post-raising and deposition.

This contrasts with the majority of Neolithic cremation deposits where grave or pyre goods are often placed directly with the dead. The axehead might instead be seen as an object polluted through its role in the funerary rite and/or post-raising activities. Such actions may have rendered it taboo to use for another purpose and necessitated its deposition and containment within the Bridlington Boulevard post-hole, akin to the deposition of antler picks in pits and ditches at numerous Neolithic sites. Ethnographic parallels may also be drawn with the erection of carved and painted posts as part of Tiwi Aborigine burial rites in northern Australia, which are also associated with strict taboos around the burial site and the deceased's material possessions (Venbrux Reference Venbrux2007). Taboos around funerary rites are rarely isolated phenomena and generally extend to other actions (e.g. naming the dead, their personal effects, viewing the body) which may have occurred as part of these activities.

Funerary processes at Bridlington Boulevard in Mid–Late Neolithic context

Given the partial burning of the Bridlington Boulevard remains, and the probable intentional breakage of the cranium in a period shortly after death, the possibility of post-mortem exposure of the deceased's body must be considered. Exposure and excarnation are not usually recognized as common funerary pathways in this period, since the only direct evidence for such practices is extensive weathering, animal gnawing, or cutmarks (e.g. Smith Reference Smith2006). There are no traces of animal damage on the Bridlington Boulevard remains, but they represent only a small portion of the skeleton. Yet the largely ‘invisible’ dead from this period had to go somewhere. Exposure and/or excarnation provide options for processing of the dead that leave minimal traces in the archaeological record. For example, some Aboriginal Australian and First Nations tribes tied their dead to trees, laid them out on platforms constructed in trees, placed them within hollow trees, or constructed tall scaffolds to expose the dead on a bier high above the ground (Oxenham et al. Reference Oxenham, Knight, Westaway and Oxenham2008; Seeman Reference Seeman2011).

Following a potential period of exposure, the body—or what remained thereof—was burnt or cremated. If cremated on a pyre, the pattern of burning suggests they were laid on their right side, echoing the flexed position bodies were usually buried in. Cremation is a difficult and time-consuming process: it can take at least 1–1.5 hours, at a temperature of 700–1000°C, to cremate a human body fully (Roberts Reference Roberts2009, 52), and requires 300 kg to one tonne of dry timber in the pyre structure (Hadders Reference Hadders2018; Parker Pearson Reference Parker Pearson2003, 49). Those who have watched contemporary open-air cremation rites have remarked that the pyre and the burning corpse require active management (Downes Reference Downes, Downes and Pollard1999). Most of the Bridlington Boulevard bone fragments were burnt black, with only minimal calcination, indicating that the burning time was relatively short. The fuel for the pyre may have been insufficient, or the pyre could have been doused prior to complete cremation. Alternatively, disarticulated and dry bones could have been retrieved and subjected to incidental burning, for example in situ in the post-hole, prior to post-raising. The presence of burnt timbers in the packing material could represent pyre debris or the residue of a small fire. In any event, the processing of the remains required intimate interactions with the bones, probably involving retrieving remains from an earlier location of deposition or exposure, breaking up the cranium into smaller portions and then directly exposing them to fire. Cremation or burning would have been a dramatic and evocative process for onlookers to witness and would probably have evoked emotion and visceral reactions, ensuring the deceased was not easily forgotten (Brophy et al. Reference Brophy, Goeckeritz and Macgregor2017; Williams Reference Williams2004).

Partial or incomplete cremation is not without precedent during the Neolithic (Cooney Reference Cooney, Kuijt, Quinn and Cooney2014; Smith & Brickley Reference Smith and Brickley2009; Willis Reference Willis2019). At the passage grave of Le Dehus (Guernsey), 14.9 per cent of the human remains were burnt, mostly black, taupe or grey in colour, indicating minimal oxidization. Similarly, the Bridlington Boulevard remains are mostly burnt black or dark brown. At Le Dehus, it is suggested that there could have been multiple stages of burning, possibly while the body was already decomposing, and pre-cremation rites could have included a period of ‘rest’ or exposure (Cataroche & Gowland Reference Cataroche, Gowland and Thompson2015). One fragment showed that the left side of a cranium was deliberately broken while the bone was still in a relatively fresh state, inviting comparison with the Bridlington Boulevard calotte. Perhaps this breakage was aimed at removing brain matter or was associated with broader fragmentation of the body. Traditional Hindu cremations involve a rite of breaking open the cranium (kapal kriya) to release the deceased's soul (Singh Reference Singh2015). Such examples highlight that these actions could have been intended to bring about practical effects in the physical and/or spiritual world.

The Bridlington Boulevard deposit evidently does not account for a whole individual. The average archaeological weight1 of an adult cremation is expected to be around 1650 g (this average is reached through combining the sexes: McKinley Reference McKinley, Barber and Bowsher2000, 269; Willis Reference Willis2019, 145–6), although most Neolithic cremations weigh less than this. It is likely that just two Neolithic non-monumental cremation deposits represent the (near) complete remains of a single individual: a pit (FA370) at Llandegai Henge A (Gwynedd) containing a cremated female adult, weighing 1113 g (Lynch & Musson Reference Lynch and Musson2004) and a pit (5090) at Lower Luggy (Powys), which contained the cremated remains of a young adult female and a few fragments of another individual weighing a total of 1249 g (Gibson Reference Gibson2006; Willis Reference Willis2019, 83–4). It is more often the case that pits and post-holes accommodated only fragments or token portions of cremations (Fig. 7).

Figure 7. Summary of Neolithic cremation weights from non-monumental pit and post-hole deposits in mainland Britain.

Such minimal cremation weights imply that the people whose remains they represent were deposited across multiple locations in the landscape or, perhaps, across multiple features within a single site. Alternatively, selection of only small quantities of cremated bone from the pyre may account for this. Other possibilities include dispersal of cremated remains between mourners for retention or circulation, or cremations of only portions of the body (Booth & Brück Reference Booth and Brück2020; Fowler Reference Fowler2010, 17). The skeletal distribution of the elements at Bridlington Boulevard could suggest that bones were gathered up from one end of a pyre, or retrieved preferentially from the head and neck region of an already defleshed body as part of a secondary funerary process. The possibility that different parts of the body were subject to further actions as part of the funerary rite and processed in other prescribed ways cannot be ruled out.

Neolithic pit and post-hole cremations

A literature review of currently available evidence identified 46 non-monumental features containing 51 cremation deposits, from 21 sites in mainland Britain (Table 1). These cover a broad geographic area from highland Scotland to Wessex, attesting to the widespread nature of this form of funerary activity (Fig. 1). These features comprised 13 post-holes, 32 pits and a single surface deposit. The majority of these features (n = 35) date to the Mid–Late Neolithic. However, four deposits, from Yarnton (Oxfordshire) 3815 & 4580, Eton Rowing Lake (Buckinghamshire) Pit 9930 and Forrest Road (Aberdeenshire) Pit 25, produced Early Neolithic dates and/or cultural material, while a further five deposits from Balfarg Riding School (Fife) and Yarnton consisted of post settings from Early Neolithic timber houses.

Some sites included in this review were later monumentalized through the construction of large earthwork features (e.g. barrows, henges), or through the erection of palisades or standing stone circles. In each case, the pit and post-holes included in this study preceded these constructions. For this reason, deposits from cremation cemeteries such as Forteviot (Perth and Kinross) (Brophy & Noble Reference Brophy and Noble2020) or Sarn-y-bryn-caled (Powys) (Gibson Reference Gibson1994; Reference Gibson2010) were not included as the deposits were contemporary with or subsequent to the construction of monumental earthworks. It may be argued that the pit digging and, especially, the raising of large individual posts, constituted mini-monuments in their own right. However, their construction required markedly less time, resources and aggregations of people relative to that of stone circles, barrows, henges and palisades and thus they are treated here as non-monumental features, at least at the time of their construction.

From this review, 32 cremation deposits (76 per cent) weighed <230 g, with the majority (n = 25) weighing <50 g (Table 1). Most publications did not record an estimate for the minimum number of individuals (MNI), but most deposits probably represented a single individual or several isolated cremated bones. While the greatest cremation weights were all found in pits, the cremation weights are largely homogeneous across feature types (Fig. 7). This suggests that the significance of the cremation deposits lies in the wider assemblage within these features. A broad range of ages and sexes are also represented, with a minimum of 23 adults and 13 non-adults identified, even including infants (in Lanton Quarry (Northumberland) cremation Pit 1 and Raunds (Northamptonshire) Pit F5549) (Fig. 8). However, there is a slight preference towards the deposition of adults. Among the deposits for which the MNI could be estimated, this ranged from 1–4 individuals although, in most cases (76 per cent), the deposits contained just a single individual. Of these, 34 (66 per cent) were accompanied by grave or pyre goods (Table 2) and 17 (33 per cent) were not associated with any artefacts. Ceramics, animal bone, unretouched flint flakes and blades are the most common artefacts found alongside the cremated remains (Fig. 9). Notably, burnt bone and antler pins, frequent finds from monumental cremation cemeteries at Stonehenge (Wiltshire), Forteviot, Cairnpapple (West Lothian), West Stow (Suffolk), Dorchester-on-Thames (Oxfordshire) and Duggleby Howe (East Yorkshire), are completely absent from these non-monumental assemblages (Rowland Reference Rowlandforthcoming; Willis Reference Willis2019). That these objects do not appear to have been deposited outside of large cemeteries highlights the selective nature of these artefact associations, perhaps indicating differences in the funerary rites afforded to these individuals.

Figure 8. Summary of age at death for Neolithic individuals from non-monumental cremation deposits in mainland Britain.

Table 2. Summary of finds associated with Neolithic non-monumental pit and post-hole cremation deposits from mainland Britain.

Figure 9. Frequency of objects associated with non-monumental pit and post-hole cremation deposits in mainland Britain.

The extent of these pit and post-hole features varied greatly, from 0.3–2.5 m in diameter and 0.1–0.76 m deep (Fig. 10). With 64 per cent measuring <1 m in diameter, many of these features were small and understated. It is notable that the Bridlington Boulevard post-hole cut is significantly larger than the majority of such features containing cremations, suggesting it once held a substantial timber. Based on a ratio of 1:3 (below:above ground) the post is estimated to have had a maximum standing height of c. 2.3 m. The felling, transportation and erection of a timber post up to c. 0.7 m in diameter, even if felled relatively close by, would have necessitated the participation of a number of individuals involved in the post-raising activities.

Figure 10. Feature depth and width for non-monumental pits and post-holes containing Neolithic cremation deposits from mainland Britain.

A small number of non-monumental funerary sites provide evidence of grave markers. At Lanton Quarry and Meldon Bridge (Borders) cremations were deposited within the packing of features containing post-markers, representing small-scale cremation cemeteries (Cockburn Reference Cockburn2016; Speak & Burgess Reference Speak and Burgess2000). The close spatial association of two post-holes with three pits containing cremated remains at Milton Ham (Northamptonshire) may also be interpreted to represent marker posts for a small cremation cemetery (Carlyle & Chapman Reference Carlyle and Chapman2012). At Lanton Quarry, three of the post-holes had also been recut to allow deposition of subsequent cremations, indicating these places were returned to periodically, although the paucity of radiocarbon dates means it is unclear over what timespan this took place (Cockburn Reference Cockburn2016). Feature K21 at Meldon Bridge had also held two successive posts, followed by an off-centre stake and finally a small standing stone, marking the site of the deposit, reflecting prolonged re-engagement with the dead (Speak & Burgess Reference Speak and Burgess2000). At some sites, such as Meldon Bridge, Raunds barrow 5, Llandegai Henge A and Stoneyfield (Highland), non-monumental deposits preceded later monumentalisation. The incorporation of these features suggests long-term continuity and memorialization, perhaps through oral tradition, of the significance of these areas and the individuals interred therein. The deposition of human remains in these locales may have served as foundation deposits to establish the ancestral significance of such places or to imbue them with spiritual essences of the dead.

Post-human cremation assemblages

It is tempting to define most contexts containing human bone as funerary deposits and, in doing so, accord the human presence with primary importance. Such narratives can unduly retroject presentist notions of anthropocentrism, overlooking the potential for non-human agents to intervene in actions which might be as mundane as household rituals (e.g. Büster Reference Büster2021), or as intensive as landscape clearance or monument construction. Recent works have also problematized such an approach by revealing the often blurred and overlapping boundaries between depositional practices usually studied separately (e.g. grave goods, hoards, cenotaphs, structured deposits) and the significance of ‘body-less’ object deposits in their own right, beyond symbolic markers of missing bodies (Büster Reference Büster2021; Cooper et al. Reference Cooper, Garrow and Gibson2020). A posthuman approach urges us to reconsider the dynamic forces that flow between and emerge from assemblages of substances, things and organic matter, including, but not prioritizing, people (Bennett Reference Bennett2010; Braidotti Reference Braidotti2013; Crellin & Harris Reference Crellin and Harris2021). Reconsidering relations and capacities in this way highlights that Neolithic worlds did not follow ontological hierarchies familiar to many of us today, but that instead animals, trees, plants and things were forceful influences driving change. Substances comprising the natural world were dynamic materials taken up to produce effects in the landscape, and communities were probably conceived of as expansive beyond just humans (e.g. Banfield Reference Banfield2016; Reference Banfield2018; Harris Reference Harris and Watts2013).

A posthuman perspective harnesses a re-evaluation of these pit and post-and-human cremation deposits. Ninety-five per cent of the pit and post-hole cremations reviewed here are unrepresentative of a complete individual; they were ‘token’ pieces of bone, perhaps expediently disposed of when appropriate times or circumstances allowed. These events may not have marked a significant component of the funerary process, and it is unlikely that such small deposits were primarily intended to commemorate an individual's death. Furthermore, while cremations can be tied into wider practices of selective and secondary deposition, non-monumental deposits indicate a continuity of practice which was small-scale, occasional and dispersed. What was it that enchained these cremation deposits? They are so idiosyncratic in nature as to suggest that their motivation was circumstantial, perhaps characterized by cosmological associations specific to their context, such as the availability of a range of materials and conditions which prevailed to enable their deposition.

Instead of posts marking the resting place of ancestors, the items—including cremated remains—placed within post-holes may instead be conceptualized as gatherings of dynamic essences which affected the rites and actions surrounding post-raising or decommissioning. Token cremation deposits in post-holes of Early Neolithic houses, for example at Yarnton and Balfarg Riding School, could have exerted influential forces which were imbued into the properties of the houses themselves. Since the deposition of cremated human remains in Neolithic houses in Britain is somewhat rare, it is interesting to consider what houses raised over the dead could do differently. These forces could have been propitiatory, perhaps evoking ancestral spirits, or conversely might have marked the containment of malevolent essences. In the case of post-holes, a symmetry is noticed between the material used as fuel to burn or cremate the dead, and subsequently raised accompanied by these cremations. Perhaps these post-and-human cremation assemblages referenced past wood-and-human assemblages which came together in the felling of woodlands for the cremation pyre.

Qualitatively examining the materials placed alongside cremations in pits and post-holes (excluding the single surface deposit from MoD headquarters (Wiltshire) and the pit from Maxey Quarry (Cambridgeshire) where the presence of pyre debris is uncertain) shows that similar proportions of both feature types contained pyre debris (40 per cent of pits and 44 per cent of post-holes) and both regularly contained worked flint and animal remains. However, the post-and-cremation assemblages are notably devoid of ceramics, antler, shell and coarse stone artefacts (Fig. 9). The lithic assemblages from post-holes are similarly limited: besides the axehead in the Bridlington Boulevard post-hole, one knife, one blade and seven flint flakes were present in only four out of a total of 13 cremations in post-holes (31 per cent). The pit-and-cremation assemblages are, in contrast, exceptionally diverse in their fills, suggesting distinct conditions and qualities were involved in their creation. This pattern may extend more widely to other pit assemblages containing unburnt bone. Post-holes contained gatherings of more restricted ranges of materials, but perhaps most importantly were dug out to contain and stabilize posts, thereby representing upstanding, visible and tangible interventions. Pits, on the other hand, drew together a greater assortment of materials which might have been efficacious and sensorially affective (Pollard Reference Pollard2001). When combined, these qualities could have productive, regenerative, or harmonious consequences, but they were eventually hidden or obscured. These variations might relate to different life stages of the materials or features themselves: while the infilling of pits could represent a ritual closure of features perhaps dug originally for another purpose, post-hole deposits gathered together materials suitable either for founding a structure or monument or decommissioning it on removal of the post. Nonetheless, the varied contents of these deposits suggests each depositional act was unique.

Cremations in post-holes were brought into relation with timber posts and structures, sometimes alongside combinations of burnt and unburnt materials, including animal bone and occasionally worked flint. In pits, they were conversant with buried bricolages of stone tool ‘kits’ and other probable occupation debris, such as animal bone from varied species, organic remains and broken pots. If we accept that relations constitute the capacities of things, cremations in post-holes and pits were qualitatively different. Similar to Banfield's (Reference Banfield2016) proposition regarding the multiplicities of chalk, clay and sarsen stones in the Avebury stone-hole settings, we suggest that cremations’ capacities changed according to the contexts in which they were deployed and features in which they were deposited. Given this, it is worth exploring the material taxonomies of bone further; future work might ask whether the capacities of cremated human remains differed to the capacities of unburnt human bone in similar contexts.

Conclusion

The Bridlington Boulevard cremation provides a rare insight into Neolithic non-monumental funerary and depositional practices. It highlights the complex sequence of activities that may be involved and reveals the potential for multi-stage funerary practices. As Gibson (Reference Gibson, Brophy, MacGregor and Ralston2016, 58) has stated, ‘the treatment of human remains in the fourth to second millennia BC was totally alien to our own ideas’. So, who were these people who assembled the deposit at Bridlington Boulevard and, more specifically, who was the person that was partially burnt and deposited here? Unfortunately, given the selective nature of the human bone deposit, little can be deciphered about the identity of the deceased. They were an adult, of uncertain sex, who at their time of death may have been a son or daughter, parent, sibling, partner, craftsperson, farmer, hunter and/or elder, and whose death would likely have been deeply felt by the community they left behind.

After death, the body of the deceased was possibly exposed or excarnated, the cranium deliberately broken, whole or part of their body burnt and then partially deposited, although the sequence in which these events occurred is unknown. The majority of their remains must have been treated in other ways: perhaps placed in other sites or landscape features (even including the nearby Gypsey Race river), or divided and circulated amongst the living community, creating multiple opportunities for engagement and re-engagement with the deceased. Collating the data on pit and post-hole cremations reveals a surprising number of known examples of this depositional type, spanning the Early to Late Neolithic. Despite its longevity and broad geographic distribution, each pit and post-hole cremation is unique: different quantities of burnt or cremated remains were interred, and accompanied by diverse (or no) objects, reflecting a highly variable funerary complex.

One reading of the Bridlington Boulevard assemblage might suggest that the feature was constructed to commemorate the deceased, with the axehead knapped to fell a memorial post and deposited alongside the burnt bones and timbers once its purpose was served. Yet accounting for ontological difference and more-than-human forces in Neolithic worlds leads us to argue alternatively. With so few pits and post-holes containing burnt or cremated human remains, and even fewer containing a large number of fragments, it was these actions of intervening in the world which were significant. Digging into the earth, or embedding timber posts (be they isolated or structural), were undoubtedly routine acts in Neolithic lives. Yet, when incorporating carefully chosen assemblages of materials, these objects and depositional acts could have bestowed forces needed to achieve real outcomes at moments when the world was being altered and augmented through sub-surface or above-ground constructions.

Note

1. The estimate of an archaeological weight of a cremation refers to studies of modern cremation weights where only remains >2 mm in size are included, creating a more realistic scenario for archaeological cremations and excluding ash from coffin wood (see Willis Reference Willis2019, 145–6).

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank David Marchant, the East Riding of Yorkshire Museums Service and staff at Sewerby Hall and Gardens for granting access to the material studied here. The microwear analysis undertaken by the first author was funded by the South West and Wales Doctoral Training Partnership (SWWDTP). We are grateful to Jeremy Bennett for producing the 3D model. The authors wish to extend their thanks to the two anonymous reviewers, whose feedback greatly improved this manuscript, and Emily Banfield, Benjamin Chan and Josh Pollard, who read and commented on earlier drafts.

Supplementary material

A 3D model of the reconstructed Bridlington Boulevard calotte can be accessed by clicking the following link: https://skfb.ly/oBpFN

References

Allan, A., Rault, S. & Humble, J., 2013. Barrow 5, in A Neolithic and Bronze Age Landscape in Northamptonshire: The Raunds Area Project, Volume 2, eds Harding, J. & Healy, F.. Swindon: English Heritage, 215–30.Google Scholar
Allen, T., Barclay, A., Cromarty, A.M., et al., 2013. Opening the Woods, Making the Land. The archaeology of a middle Thames landscape: Mesolithic, Neolithic and Early Bronze Age. Oxford: Oxford Archaeology.Google Scholar
Anderson-Whymark, H., 2011. Intentional breakage in the British Neolithic: some comments and examples. Lithics: The Journal of the Lithic Studies Societ, 32, 1722.Google Scholar
Baby, R.S., 1954. Hopewell cremation practices. Ohio Historical Society Papers in Archaeology 1, 17.Google Scholar
Banfield, E., 2016. Sticky notes: some thoughts on the use of clay in the Neolithic deposits within the Avebury megalithic complex. Norwegian Archaeological Review 49, 99112.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Banfield, E., 2018. Tales from the Ontological Tern: An Examination of the Role and Meaning of Faunal Remains in the Neolithic Long Barrows of Wiltshire. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Leicester.Google Scholar
Barclay, G.J. & Russell-White, C.J., 1994. Excavations in the ceremonial complex of the fourth to second millennium BC at Balfarg/Balbirnie, Glenrothes, Fife. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 123, 43210.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Barnatt, J. & Edmonds, M., 2002. Places apart? Caves and monuments in Neolithic and earlier Bronze Age Britain. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 12, 113–29.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Behrensmeyer, A.K., 1978. Taphonomic and ecologic information from bone weathering. Palaeobiology 4, 150–62.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Bennett, J., 2010. Vibrant Matter: A political ecology of things. Durham (NC): Duke University Press.Google Scholar
Binford, L.R., 1963. An analysis of cremations from three Michigan sites. Wisconsin Archaeology 44, 98110.Google Scholar
Booth, T.J. & Brück, J., 2020. Death is not the end: radiocarbon and histo-taphonomic evidence for the curation and excarnation of human remains in Bronze Age Britain. Antiquity 94, 1186–203.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Boulter, S., 2011. Former Tarmac Quarry, Flixton (FLN 009), Archaeological Excavation Archive Report. Ipswich: Suffolk County Council Archaeological Service.Google Scholar
Braidotti, R., 2013. The Posthuman. Cambridge: Polity Press.Google Scholar
Brickley, M.B., 2018. Cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis: a biological approach to diagnosis. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 167, 896902.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Brophy, K., Goeckeritz, C. & Macgregor, G., 2017. Build n burn: using fire as a tool to evoke, educate and entertain. Archaeological Journal 174, 437–63.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Brophy, K., MacGregor, G., & Noble, G., 2018. Warm air and glowing pyres: cremating bodies in the Late Neolithic of mainland Scotland, in Neolithic Bodies, eds Bickle, P. & Sibbesson, E.. Oxford: Oxbow, 7491.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Brophy, K. & Noble, G., 2011. Within and beyond pits: deposition in lowland Neolithic Scotland, in Regional Perspectives on Neolithic Pit Deposition: Beyond the mundane, eds Anderson Whymark, H. & Thomas, J.. Oxford: Oxbow, 6376.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Brophy, K. & Noble, G., 2020. Prehistoric Forteviot. York: Council for British Archaeology.Google Scholar
Buikstra, J.E. & Swegle, M., 1989. Bone modification due to burning: experimental evidence, in Bone Modification, eds. Bonnichsen, R. & Sorg, M.H.. Orono (ME): University of Maine, Center for the Study of the First Americans, 247–58.Google Scholar
Buikstra, J.E. & Ubelaker, D.H., 1994. Standards for Data Collection from Human Skeletal Remains. Fayetteville (AR): Arkansas Archaeological Survey.Google Scholar
Büster, L., 2021. ‘Problematic stuff’: death, memory and the interpretation of cached objects. Antiquity 95, 973–85.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Carlyle, S. & Chapman, A., 2012. Neolithic cremation burials at Milton Ham, Northampton. Northamptonshire Archaeology 37, 2935.Google Scholar
Cataroche, J. & Gowland, R., 2015. Flesh, fire, and funerary remains from the Neolithic site of La Varde, Guernsey: investigations past and present, in The Archaeology of Cremation: Burned human remains in funerary studies, ed. Thompson, T.. Oxford: Oxbow, 1942.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Chamberlain, A.T., 1996. More dating evidence for human remains in British caves. Antiquity 70, 950–53.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Cockburn, P., 2016. Archaeological Excavations at Lanton Quarry, Northumberland: Phase 8, 2016. Hebburn: Archaeological Research Services Ltd.Google Scholar
Cook, M. & Dunbar, L., 2008. Rituals, Roundhouses and Romans: Excavations at Kintore, Aberdeenshire, 2000–2006. Edinburgh: Scottish Trust for Archaeological Research.Google Scholar
Cooney, G., 2014. The role of cremation in mortuary practice in the Irish Neolithic, in Transformation by Fire: The archaeology of cremation in cultural context, eds Kuijt, I., Quinn, C.P. & Cooney, G.. Tucson (AZ): University of Arizona Press, 189206.Google Scholar
Cooper, A., Garrow, D. & Gibson, C., 2020. Spectrums of depositional practice in later prehistoric Britain and beyond. Grave goods, hoards and deposits ‘in between’. Archaeological Dialogues 27, 135–57.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Copper, M., Sheridan, J.A., Gibson, A., Tripney, B., Hamilton, D. & Cook, G., 2018. Radiocarbon dates for Grooved Ware pottery from mainland Scotland arising from the project Tracing the Lines: Uncovering Grooved Ware Trajectories in Neolithic Scotland, Discovery and Excavation in Scotland 19, 214–17.Google Scholar
Correia, P.M.M., 1997. Fire modification of bone: a review of the literature, in Forensic Taphonomy: The postmortem fate of human remains, eds Haglund, W.D. & Sorg, M.H.. Boca Raton (FL): CLC Press, 275–86.Google Scholar
Crellin, R.J. & Harris, O.J.T., 2021. What difference does posthumanism make? Cambridge Archaeological Journal 31, 469–75.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Crozier, R., 2018. A Taphonomic Approach to the Re-Analysis of the Human Remains from the Neolithic Chamber Tomb of Quanterness, Orkney. (BAR British series 635.) Oxford: BAR Publishing.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Downes, J., 1999. Cremation: a spectacle and a journey, in The Loved Body's Corruption: Archaeological contributions to the study of human mortality, eds Downes, J. & Pollard, T.. Glasgow: Cruithne Press, 19–29.Google Scholar
Duday, H., 2009. The Archaeology of the Dead: Lectures in archaeothanatology. Oxford: Oxford University Press.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Earnshaw, J.R., 1973. The site of a medieval post mill and prehistoric site at Bridlington. Yorkshire Archaeological Journal 45, 1940.Google Scholar
Evans, J.G. & Simpson, D.D.A., 1991. Giants’ Hills 2 Long Barrow, Skendleby, Lincolnshire. Archaeologia 109, 145.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Fernández-Jalvo, Y. & Andrews, P., 2016. Atlas of Taphonomic Identifications: 1001+ images of fossil and recent mammal bone modification. New York (NY): Springer.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Fitzpatrick, A.P., 2013. The Amesbury Archer and the Boscombe Bowmen: Early Bell Beaker burials on Boscombe Down, Amesbury, Wiltshire. Salisbury: Wessex Archaeology.Google Scholar
Fowler, C., 2010. Pattern and diversity in the Early Neolithic mortuary practices of Britain and Ireland: contextualising the treatment of the dead. Documenta Praehistorica 37, 118.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Gibson, A., 1994. Excavations at the Sarn-y-bryn-caled cursus complex, Welshpool, Powys, and the timber circles of Great Britain & Ireland. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 60, 143224.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Gibson, A., 2006. Excavations at a Neolithic enclosure at Lower Luggy, near Welshpool, Powys, Wales. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 72, 163–91.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Gibson, A., 2010. New dates for Sarn-y-bryn-caled, Powys, Wales. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 76, 351–6.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Gibson, A., 2013. Two Middle Neolithic radiocarbon dates from the East Midlands. PAST: The newsletter of the Prehistoric Society 73, 1.Google Scholar
Gibson, A., 2016. Who were these people? A sideways view and a non answer of political proportions, in The Neolithic of Mainland Scotland, eds. Brophy, K., MacGregor, G. & Ralston, I.. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 5773.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Hadders, H., 2018. Establishment of electric crematorium in Nepal: continuity, changes and challenges. Mortality 23(1), 1934.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Harris, O.J.T., 2013. Relational communities in Neolithic Britain, in Relational Archaeologies: Humans, animals, things, ed. Watts, C.. London: Routledge, 173–89.Google Scholar
Hart, J., 2013. South Wales Gas Pipeline Project, Site 23.07, Land South of Pen-y-banc, Manordeilo and Salem, Carmarthenshire. Archaeological Watching Brief. Cirencester: Cotswold Archaeology.Google Scholar
Heglar, R., 1984. Burned remains, in Human Identification: Case studies in forensic Anthropology, eds. Rathburn, T.A. & Buikstra, J.E.. Springfield (IL): Charles C. Thomas, 148–58.Google Scholar
Hey, G., Bell, C., Dennis, C. & Robinson, M., 2016. Yarnton: Neolithic and Bronze Age Settlement and Landscape. Oxford: Oxbow.Google Scholar
Jones, A., 2008. How the dead live: mortuary practices, memory and the ancestors in Neolithic and Early Bronze Age Britain and Ireland, in Prehistoric Britain, ed. Pollard, J.. Oxford: Blackwell, 177201.Google Scholar
Jones, A.M., 2016. Preserved in the Peat: An extraordinary Bronze Age burial on Whitehose Hill, Dartmoor, and its wider context. Oxford: Oxbow.Google Scholar
Keeley, L.H., 1980. Experimental Determination of Stone Tool Uses: A Microwear Analysis. Chicago (IL): University of Chicago Press.Google Scholar
Knüsel, C.J. & Robb, J., 2016. Funerary taphonomy: an overview of goals and methods. Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 10, 655–73.Google Scholar
Lemmers, S.A.M., Gonçalves, D., Cunha, E., Vassalo, A.R. & Appleby, J., 2020. Burned fleshed or dry? The potential of bioerosion to determine the pre-burning condition of human remains. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 27, 972–91.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Little, A., van Gijn, A., Collins, T., et al., 2017. Stone dead: uncovering early Mesolithic mortuary rites, Hermitage, Ireland. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 27, 223–43.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Lynch, F. & Musson, C., 2004. A prehistoric and early medieval complex at Llandegai, near Bangor, North Wales. Archaeologia Cambrensis 150, 17142.Google Scholar
Manby, T., 1979. Typology, materials and distribution of flint and stone axes in Yorkshire, in Stone Axe Studies, eds Clough, T.H.M. & Cummins, W.A.. London: Council for British Archaeology, 6581.Google Scholar
McKinley, J.I., 2000. Cremation burials, in The Eastern Cemetery of Roman London: Excavations 1983–1990, eds Barber, B. & Bowsher, D.. London: MoLAS & English Heritage, 264–77.Google Scholar
McKinley, J.I., 2004. Compiling a skeletal inventory: cremated human bone, in Guidelines to the Standards for Recording Human Remains, eds. Brickley, M. & McKinley, J.I.. Southampton/Reading: BABAO & Institute of Field Archaeologists, 913.Google Scholar
Mitchell, P. & Brickley, M., 2017. Updated Guidelines to the Standards for Recording Human Remains. Reading: BABAO & CIfA.Google Scholar
Outram, A.K., 2001. A new approach to identifying bone marrow and grease exploitation: why the ‘indeterminate’ fragments should not be ignored. Journal of Archaeological Science 28, 401–10.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Oxenham, M.F., Knight, T. & Westaway, M., 2008. Identification of Australian Aboriginal mortuary remains, in Forensic Approaches to Death, Disaster and Abuse, ed. Oxenham, M.F.. Samford Valley (QLD): Australian Academic Press, 3754.Google Scholar
Parker Pearson, M., 2003. The Archaeology of Death and Burial. Stroud: History Press.Google Scholar
Peterson, R., 2019. Neolithic Cave Burials: Agency, structure and environment. Manchester: Manchester University Press.Google Scholar
Pitts, M., 1996. The stone axe in Neolithic Britain. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 62, 311–71.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Pollard, J., 2001. The aesthetics of depositional practice. World Archaeology 33, 315–33.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Pollard, T., 1998. Excavation of a Neolithic settlement and ritual complex at Beckton Farm, Lockerbie, Dumfries & Galloway. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 127, 69121.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Powell, A.B., Barclay, A., Mepham, L. & Stevens, C.J., 2015. Imperial College Sports Grounds and RMC Land, Harlington: The development of prehistoric and later communities in the Colne Valley and on the Heathrow Terraces. Salisbury: Wessex Archaeology.Google Scholar
Redfern, R. & Roberts, C.A., 2019. Trauma, in Ortner's Identification of Pathological Conditions in Human Skeletal Remains, ed. Buikstra, J.E.. London: Academic Press, 211–84.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Ribeiro, P., Jordana, X., Scheirs, S., et al., 2020. Distinction between perimortem and postmortem fractures in human cranial bone. International Journal of Legal Medicine 134, 1765–74.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Roberts, C.A., 2009. Human Remains in Archaeology: A handbook. York: Council for British Archaeology.Google Scholar
Rots, V., 2010. Prehension and Hafting Traces on Flint Tools: A methodology. Leuven: Leuven University Press.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Rowland, J.T., forthcoming. Beyond Symbols of Power: An Integrated Multiscalar Study of the Life Histories of Middle Neolithic Elaborate Objects. PhD thesis, University of Southampton.Google Scholar
Schulting, R.J., 2007. Non-monumental burial in Neolithic Britain: a (largely) cavernous view, in Non-Megalithic Mortuary Practices in the Baltic – New methods and research into the development of Stone Age society, eds Larsson, L., Lüth, F. & Terberger, T.. (Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission 88.) Schwerin: Philipp von Zabern, 581603.Google Scholar
Schulting, R.J., 2020. Claddedigaethau mewn ogofâu: prehistoric human remains (mainly) from the caves of Wales. Proceedings of the University of Bristol Spelaeological Society 28, 185219.Google Scholar
Seeman, E.R., 2011. The Huron-Wendat Feast of the Dead: Indian-European encounters in early North America. Baltimore (MD): Johns Hopkins University Press.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Semenov, S.A., 1964. Prehistoric Technology: An experimental study of the oldest tools and artefacts traces of manufacture and wear. Totowa (NJ): Barnes & Noble.Google Scholar
Sheridan, J.A., Cook, G., Naysmith, P., et al., 2017. Radiocarbon dates associated with the Scottish History and Archaeology Department, National Museums Scotland, 2016/17. Discovery and Excavation in Scotland 18, 209–14.Google Scholar
Singh, K.V., 2015. Hindu Rites and Rituals: Origins and meanings. Haryana: Penguin Random House India.Google Scholar
Simpson, D.D., Mackreth, D.F., Buckley, L., et al., 1997. Excavation of a kerbed funerary monument at Stoneyfield, Raigmore, Inverness, Highland, 1972–3. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 126, 5386.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Smith, I.F. & Darvill, T., 1990. The prehistoric pottery, in Hazleton North, Gloucestershire, 1979–82: The excavation of a Neolithic long cairn of the Cotswold-Severn group, ed. Saville, A.. London: Historic Buildings and Monuments, 141–52.Google Scholar
Smith, M., 2006. Bones chewed by canids as evidence for human excarnation: a British case study. Antiquity 80, 671–85.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Smith, M. & Brickley, M., 2009. People of the Long Barrows. Life, death and burial in the earlier Neolithic. Stroud: History Press.Google Scholar
Speak, S. & Burgess, C., 2000. Meldon Bridge: a centre of the third millennium BC in Peeblesshire. Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 129, 1118.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Stuart-Macadam, P., 1985. Porotic hyperostosis: representative of a childhood condition. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 66, 391–8.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Stuart-Macadam, P., 1992. Porotic hyperostosis: a new perspective. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 87, 3947.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Symes, S.A., L'Abbé, E.N., Stull, K.E., Lacroix, M. & Pokines, J.T., 2014a. Taphonomy and the timing of bone fracture in trauma analysis, in Manual of Forensic Taphonomy, eds Pokines, J.T. & Symes, S.A.. Boca Raton (FL): CRC Press, 341–65.Google Scholar
Symes, S.A., L'Abbé, E.N., Pokines, J.T., Yuzwa, T., Messer, D., Stromquist, A. & Keough, N., 2014b. Thermal alteration to bone, in Manual of Forensic Taphonomy, eds Pokines, J.T. & Symes, S.A.. Boca Raton (FL): CRC Press, 368402.Google Scholar
Symes, S.A., Rainwater, C.W., Chapman, E.N., Gipson, D.R. & Piper, A.L., 2008. Patterned thermal destruction of human remains in a forensic setting, in The Analysis of Burned Human Remains, eds Schmidt, C.W. & Symes, S.A.. London: Academic Press, 1554.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Taylor, M., 1998. Wood and bark from the enclosure ditch, in Etton: Excavations at a Neolithic causewayed enclosure near Maxey Cambridgeshire, 1982–7, ed. Pryor, F.. Swindon: English Heritage, 115–60.Google Scholar
Thomas, J., 2000. Death, identity and the body in Neolithic Britain. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 6, 653–68.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Thompson, S. & Powell, A.B.., 2018. Along Prehistoric Lines: Neolithic, Iron Age and Romano-British activity at the former MOD Headquarters Durrington, Wiltshire. Salisbury: Wessex Archaeology.Google Scholar
Thurman, M.D. & Willmore, L.J., 1980. A replicative cremation experiment. North American Archaeologist 2, 275–83.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
van Gijn, A.L., 1990. The Wear and Tear of Flint. Principles of Functional Analysis Applied to Dutch Neolithic Assemblages. PhD thesis, Universiteit Leiden.Google Scholar
van Gijn, A.L., 2010. Flint in Focus: Lithic biographies in the Neolithic and Bronze Age. Leiden: Sidestone Press.Google Scholar
van Gijn, A., 2014. Science and interpretation in microwear studies. Journal of Archaeological Science 48, 166–9.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Végh, E.I., Czermak, A., Márquez-Grant, N. & Schulting, R.J., 2021. Assessing the reliability of microbial bioerosion features in burnt bones: a novel approach using feature-labelling in histotaphonomical analysis. Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 37, 102906.Google Scholar
Venbrux, E., 2007. Destroyal of the personal belongings of the deceased. On bone and flesh type of objects: elaborating Hertz in Australia. Journal de la Société des Océanistes 124, 97103.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Walker, P.L., Bathurst, R.R., Richman, R., Gjerdrum, T. & Andrushko, V.A., 2009. The causes of porotic hyperostosis and cribra orbitalia: a reappraisal of the iron-deficiency anemia hypothesis. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 139, 109–25.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Webb, W. & Snow, C., 1974. The Adema People. Knoxville (TN): University of Tennessee Press.Google Scholar
Wentink, K., 2020. Stereotype: The role of grave sets in Corded Ware and Bell Beaker funerary practices. Leiden: Sidestone Press.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Wells, C., 1960. A study of cremation. Antiquity 34, 2937.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
White, T.D., 1992. Prehistoric Cannibalism at Mancos 5MTUMR-2346. Princeton (NJ): Princeton University Press.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Whittle, A., Atkinson, R.J.C., Chambers, R. & Thomas, N., 1992. Excavations in the Neolithic and Bronze Age complex at Dorchester-on-Thames, Oxfordshire, 1947–1952, and 1981. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 58, 143201.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Whittle, A., Wysocki, M., Richards, M., Rouse, A., Walker, E. & Zienkiewicz, L., 1998. Parc le Breos Cwm transepted long cairn, Gower, West Glamorgan: date, contents, and context. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 64, 139–82.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Wieberg, D.A.M. & Wescott, D.J., 2008. Estimating the timing of long bone fractures: correlation between the postmortem interval, bone moisture content, and blunt force trauma fracture characteristics. Journal of Forensic Sciences 53, 1028–34.CrossRefGoogle ScholarPubMed
Williams, H., 2004. Death warmed up: the agency of bodies and bones in early Anglo-Saxon cremation rites. Journal of Material Culture 9(3), 263–91.CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Willis, C.C., 2019. Stonehenge and Middle to Late Neolithic Cremation Rites in Mainland Britain (c. 3500–2500 BC). PhD thesis, University College London.Google Scholar
Wysocki, M.P. & Schulting, R.J., 2005. ‘In this chambered tumulus were found cleft skulls…’: an assessment of the evidence for cranial trauma in the British Neolithic. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 71, 107–38.Google Scholar
Figure 0

Figure 1. Location of Bridlington Boulevard and other Neolithic non-monumental cremations from mainland Britain.

Figure 1

Table 1. Summary of Neolithic non-monumental cremations from mainland Britain. Radiocarbon dates in bold indicate direct dates on cremated bone.

Figure 2

Figure 2. Plan and section of the Bridlington Boulevard post-hole (redrawn from Earnshaw 1973, fig. 3) with inset image of flint axehead. (N.B. Context letters have been assigned retrospectively.)

Figure 3

Figure 3. Reconstructed calotte: (a) antero-superior view; (b) left lateral view, displaying breakage on the extant left parietal bone; (c) postero-inferior view; (d) right lateral view, displaying uneven burning concentrated on the right parietal and occipital bones.

Figure 4

Figure 4. Cranial fragments which cannot be refitted to calotte (A); and postcranial fragments identifiable to element: (B) right scapula and clavicle; (C) rib; (D) cervical vertebrae, displaying varied extents of burning.

Figure 5

Figure 5. The flint axehead showing location of wear traces and micrographs discussed in the text. Micrograph images are found separately in Figure 6.

Figure 6

Figure 6. Wear traces: (5, 7 & 9) wood hafting traces (×200 magnification); (12) grinding traces (×100); (14) heavily rounded cutting edge associated with polish development (×200).

Figure 7

Figure 7. Summary of Neolithic cremation weights from non-monumental pit and post-hole deposits in mainland Britain.

Figure 8

Figure 8. Summary of age at death for Neolithic individuals from non-monumental cremation deposits in mainland Britain.

Figure 9

Table 2. Summary of finds associated with Neolithic non-monumental pit and post-hole cremation deposits from mainland Britain.

Figure 10

Figure 9. Frequency of objects associated with non-monumental pit and post-hole cremation deposits in mainland Britain.

Figure 11

Figure 10. Feature depth and width for non-monumental pits and post-holes containing Neolithic cremation deposits from mainland Britain.