The Silver Stag Rhyton

For a novelist, a beautiful or mystifying object preserved from the past can trigger an entire scene. An ancient setting with so many exotic and intriguing elements is particularly fruitful this way.

I thought when I started writing fiction that my training as a classicist and years of teaching humanities, with its interplay between cultural artifacts, history and literature, had taught me enough to portray a town near Troy on the eve of the Trojan War. Every time a character reaches for something, wears clothes, eats food, travels or sits down, I had to know what might actually have existed—a tough project it turns out, requiring multiple more years of research.

One of my favorite “finds” can be seen at the Metropolitan Museum of New York, part of the Schimmel collection. This silver rhyton—a rhyton is a libation cup in the shape of an animal (although there’s another shaped like a fist)—is one of the loveliest of the treasures we have from the Hittites, the empire whose cultural and political presence is felt throughout the area surrounding Troy. This cup was produced sometime during the 14^th – 13^th centuries B.C. during the height of the Hittite empire.

The rhyton is shaped like a stag with branching antlers, regal face, graceful neck and neatly tucked forelegs. The part that resembles a cup is attached to the stag’s foreparts at a right angle so that when the cup is tilted upright to be filled with wine, the chamber formed by the stag’s head points down and must also fill with wine. At 18 cm tall from antler tip to hoof it’s about the height of a standard wine glass when resting with the stag’s head upright, but it makes a far greater impression and a much less convenient drinking cup. This cup, like its bull-shaped brethren seen on Crete and elsewhere, was used to make libations to the gods.

The “cup” part of the rhyton, the brim and cylindrical portion, is decorated with a frieze, a raised design portraying a religious procession and offerings to the gods—just the sort of situation in which the rhyton would have been used.

We know about these religious rituals in great detail because the Hittites left behind extensive archives written in cuneiform script on clay tablets.

Tablet after tablet describes elaborate festivals in honor of their gods lasting days or weeks. In many of these the king and queen traveled to different cities in central Anatolia (modern Turkey) to perform stages of the festivals. Offerings of animal sacrifices, a wide array of breads and cakes, grains, wine and beer were given to their “pantheon of a thousand gods.” At times the king dropped everything in the midst of waging a war to hurry back in order to perform such duties.

Here is a translated excerpt from one of those tablets (excerpted from The Hittite State Cult of the Tutelary Deities, Gregory McMahon):

“They take four samples of the warmed bread and stew-bread which they regularly break, and they place them back on the stela (a sacred stone/altar) for the Sungod. Sweet oil cake, however, they set out for the king. The sweet oil cake they give to all. They drink three times from a rhyton, standing. He breaks three thick breads, and they place them on the stela. They drink all the gods in order.”

The phrase “to drink a god” puzzled archaeologists and philologists, but it seems to mean something like to toast or drink to a god.

So imagine the king or queen, priest or priestess lifting high that silver stag rhyton and “drinking the god.” This is how I pictured it in a draft scene from my book:

There was her mother, standing silently next to the Stormgod’s priest, her gold ornaments and red-gold hair dramatic against the deep blue of her robe. She was calm and attentive to the proceedings, but her expression seemed strained to Briseis.

The invocation, libation and bread offerings to the Stormgod began, and then were repeated for each of the gods in turn except Kamrusepa, the particular protector of their city, whose worship came later in the day at the essential climax. Next, the priests performed the long process of sacrificing the prescribed animals to each of the gods. These gifts reminded the gods that they too shared in abundant crops and fertile herds, and showed them the benefits they would lose if they did not restore balance in the world. Antiope had only a limited role during this part of the festival, but Briseis often looked at her, aware that someday she would assume her mother’s role. She seemed more subdued than Briseis expected, but it was hot and her mother had been tired lately.

The smell of the roasting sacrifices made everyone hungry. When the attendants passed out the portions meant for the townspeople, the atmosphere grew festive. Of course the gods would come here to be with them. It smelled delicious, and the gods loved good food. Entertainment for the gods followed the feasting: acrobats, music, dancing, and mock battles.

[…]

Antiope raised high the silver stag rhyton Milos had made and recited the invocation. For a moment her mother seemed to sway while she balanced the great cup of wine above her head, but her face looked collected as she tipped the stag cup to pour the libation over Kamrusepa’s ancient stone. The blood red wine soaked into the rough surface as the goddess received her honor. Next Antiope made offerings of breads baked with sweet smelling spices and drenched in aromatic oils and honey. The goddess would be sure to smell them and come here to her stone.