Essays On Biblical Historiography From Jeroboam Ii To John Hyrcanus I 1St Edition Israel Finkelstein Full Chapter

Essays on Biblical Historiography:
From Jeroboam II to John Hyrcanus I

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Forschungen zum Alten Testament
Herausgegeben von
Konrad Schmid (Zürich) · Mark S. Smith (Princeton)

Hermann Spieckermann (Göttingen) · Andrew Teeter (Harvard)
148
Israel Finkelstein
Essays on
Biblical Historiography:
From Jeroboam II to
John Hyrcanus
Mohr Siebeck
Israel Finkelstein, born 1949; Director of excavation at key biblical sites such as Megiddo,
Shiloh and Kiriath-jearim; Professor Emeritus of Archaeology, Tel Aviv University. Head of the
School of Archaeology and Maritime Cultures, University of Haifa.
ISBN 978-3-16-160853-7 / eISBN 978-3-16-160854-4

DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-160854-4
ISSN 0940-4155 / eISSN 2568-8359 (Forschungen zum Alten Testament)
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Printed in Germany.
Table of Contents
Abbreviations �� VII

List of Figures �� IX
Introduction �� 1
Part I: Overviews
1 History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel �� 5
2 The Appearance and Dissemination of Writing in Israel and Judah �� 25
Part II: Pentateuch Traditions

3 Comments on the Historical Background of the Abraham
Narrative: Between “Realia” and “Exegetica” (with Thomas Römer) �� 47
4 Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative
in Genesis (with Thomas Römer) �� 67
5 The Wilderness Narrative and Itineraries and the Evolution of
the Exodus Tradition �� 89
6 Early North Israelite “Memories” on Moab (with Thomas Römer) �� 111
Part III: Rise of Ancient Israel

7 The Earliest Israel: Territorial History in the Highlands of Canaan �� 131
8 What the Biblical Authors Knew about Canaan before and in
the Early Days of the Hebrew Kingdoms �� 143
Part IV: Savior Stories in the Book of Judges

9 Historical-Geographical Observations on the Ehud–Eglon Tale �� 175
10 Compositional Phases, Geography and Historical Setting
behind Judges 4–5 and the Location of Harosheth-ha-goiim �� 185
11 Geographical and Historical Observations on the Old North
Israelite Gideon Tale (with Oded Lipschits) �� 203
12 The Old Jephthah Tale: Geographical and Historical Considerations �� 219
13 Comments on the Abimelech Story in Judges 9 �� 233
14 Major Saviors, Minor Judges: The Historical Background of the
Northern Accounts in the Book of Judges �� 249
VI Table of Contents
Part V: Saul, Benjamin, Bethel

15 Saul, Benjamin, and the Emergence of “Biblical Israel”: An
Alternative View �� 267
16 Saul and Highlands of Benjamin Update: The Role of Jerusalem �� 287
17 Reevaluating Bethel (with Lily Singer-Avitz) �� 303
Part VI: North Israelite Historiography

18 A Corpus of North Israelite Texts in the Days of Jeroboam II? �� 325
19 Was There an Early Northern (Israelite) Conquest Tradition? �� 351
20 The Historical and Archaeological Background behind the Old
Israelite Ark Narrative (with Thomas Römer) �� 363
21 Jeroboam IIʼs Temples �� 387
22 Jeroboam II in Transjordan �� 401
Part VII: Judahite Historiography

23 Geographical and Historical Realities behind the Earliest Layer
in the David Story �� 413
24 Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the
Rise of the Pan-Israelite Ideology (with Neil Asher Silberman) �� 433
25 Migration of Israelites into Judah after 720 BCE: An Answer
and an Update �� 457
26 The Acts of Solomon: The Impact of Jeroboam II of Israel and
Manasseh of Judah �� 475
27 The Philistines in the Bible: An Update �� 485
28 Does Rehob of the Beth-shean Valley Appear in the Bible? �� 511
Part VIII: Hasmonean Historiography

29 Nehemiah: A Hasmonean Book? �� 519
30 Hasmonean Territorial Ideology in Chronicles �� 541
Conclusion: From Jeroboam II to John Hyrcanus �� 567
List of First Publications �� 571
Scripture Index � �� 573
General Index � �� 577
Abbreviations
AASOR Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research

ABD Anchor Bible Dictionary
ADAJ Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan
BA Biblical Archaeologist
BAR Biblical Archaeology Review
BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research
BN Biblische Notizen
BZ Biblische Zeitschrift
CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly
ErIs Eretz-Israel
HBAI Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel
IEJ Israel Exploration Journal
JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society
JBL Journal of Biblical Literature
JHebS Journal of Hebrew Scriptures
JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies
JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament
NEA Near Eastern Archaeology
NEAEHL The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the
Holy Land
OJA Oxford Journal of Archaeology
PEQ Palestine Exploration Quarterly
PJ Palästinajahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für
Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes zu Jerusalem
PNAS Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United
States of America
RB Revue Biblique
SJOT Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament
TA Tel Aviv
UF Ugarit-Forschungen
VT Vetus Testamentum
ZAW Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
ZDPV Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins
List of Figures
5.1: Main sites and ancient roads in the south �� 92
8.1: The Canaanite cities according to the conquest traditions

in Joshua 6–12, Numbers 21:1–2 and Judges 1 �� 163
8.2: City-states memorized in pre-Deuteronomistic traditions

in the Books of Judges and Samuel �� 164
8.3: The main late Iron I and early Iron IIA cities according to
archaeological research �� 165
10.1: Places mentioned in Judges 4–5 �� 192
12.1: Sites referred to in the Jephthah narrative �� 226
14.1: Territory covered by the accounts of the Major and

Minor Judges �� 253
20.1: Capitals of Israel and Judah and places mentioned in the

old North Israelite Ark Narrative �� 375
23.1: Map of the Shephelah, southern Hebron hills and Beer-

sheba Valley �� 419
29.1: Sites mentioned in the list of returnees �� 528
30.1: Places mentioned in the genealogies in 1 Chronicles 2–9 �� 543
30.2: Sites mentioned in the list of Rehoboamʼs fortresses with

the addition of the sites fortified by Bacchides according to
1 Maccabees 9 �� 546
Introduction
This book presents my views on biblical historiography. By historiography I mean

date of composition of biblical texts that deal with the “history” of Ancient Israel, the
stage-setting behind them and the goals of their authors – both ideologically and theo-
logically. I put the term “history” in quotation marks because I use it to refer to the
biblical authorsʼ perceptions of the past, which do not correspond to modern scholar-
shipʼs use of the term. Biblical “history” embraces mythical eras and even for historical
periods close to the time of the authors, it is dictated by theology and royal ideology.
The study of the history of Ancient Israel – and hence biblical historiography – is
based on three pillars: biblical exegesis, archaeology and the records of the ancient
Near East. I was not trained in biblical exegesis; I entered this field gradually, increas-
ingly over the last two decades, almost always from the vantage point of archaeology.
The power of archaeology is evident; unlike many of the biblical texts, which were
written centuries after events (or alleged events) took place, archaeology – if practiced
properly in the field – supplies “real time” evidence. Once the spade is in the ground,
and the archeologist is in control of chronology – relative and absolute – the finds
speak the economic, social and material culture of the given period.
Twenty years ago, I published my book (together with Neil A. Silberman) The
Bible Unearthed: Archaeologyʼs New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its
Sacred Texts, which focused on biblical historiography in the days of King Josiah of
Judah. Since then, I have taken two significant steps – one backward and one forward.
My step backward is that I now see the beginning of biblical historiography as reflect-
ing the realities and ideology of the Northern Kingdom in the first half of the 8th
century BCE. This is a major change in my perception both chronologically and the-
matically. Chronologically, it “closes” the gap between early phases in the history of
Israel and Judah and the first composition of biblical texts. Thematically, it explains
the incorporation of Northern texts in the Southern Bible and sheds light on the emer-
gence of central concepts in the text, such as the Conquest of Canaan and the United
Monarchy. In the step forward I refer to my interest in late biblical historiography – the
Books of Ezra, Nehemiah and Chronicles. To differ from the conventional wisdom of
recent scholarship, which locates their composition in the Persian and/or early Helle-
nistic periods, I suggest they be understood as representing the territorial ideology of
the Hasmoneans in the late 2nd century BCE. The reader should note that because of
my emphasis on early North Israelite and Hasmonean compositions, the most import-
ant phase in biblical historiography – Judah of the late 7th century – is somewhat
under-represented; this can be remedied by reverting to The Bible Unearthed.
The book consists of 30 chapters, most of which were published as articles, mainly
in recent years (only three were published before 2010, only seven before 2015; see the
2 Introduction
List of First Publications at the end of this volume). I have left the articles and their
bibliographies basically as originally published, but they were standardized in terms
of style for this volume; in particular, toponyms that occur in the Bible now as a rule
follow their spelling in the Revised Standard Version (RSV ). I added some cross-ref-
erences in the notes; in many chapters I have also added an addendum which updates
the reader about data from the field and my views on the matters discussed. Seven of
these chapters were co-authored and in these cases the name of the co-author appears
under the title. One chapter – on the Philistines in the Bible (ch. 27) – was written 20
years ago; I have therefore decided to update it. Two chapters – on Nehemiah (ch. 29)
and Chronicles (ch. 30) – present newly written, updated summaries of my views,
based on past articles; I decided not to reprint the original papers, as they already
appeared in my 2018 SBL book Hasmonean Realities behind Ezra, Nehemiah, and
Chronicles: Archaeological and Historical Perspectives. In addition to the introduction
and summary, two chapters – on writing in Ancient Israel (ch. 2) and the Acts of
Solomon in 1 Kings (ch. 26) – were written especially for this book.
In structuring the volume I needed to decide between two options. The first was
to follow the biblical concept of the history of Ancient Israel – from Patriarchs to
Exodus, the rise of Ancient Israel, the “period” of the Judges, the monarchic era and
the events following the destruction of Jerusalem. The second was to adhere to my
understanding of biblical historiography – from the Northern Kingdom of the early
8th century, via Judah of the late 8th to late 7th century, to Hasmonean times in the
late 2nd century BCE. The second option – the more logical from the scholarly point
of view – is difficult to realize, as many of the chapters deal with stratified texts that
represent different periods (see, for instance, the chapters on the major judges). I
therefore took the middle road: in the first parts of the book (Parts II to V ), I follow
the biblical notion, starting with Pentateuchal historiography and then move on to
the rise of Early Israel, the heroic tales in Judges and the Saul–Benjamin traditions. In
the last parts of the book (Parts VI to VIII) I adhere to my understanding of biblical
historiographic compositions – from Jeroboam II to John Hyrcanus.
Before I close this short introduction, I wish to thank Oded Lipschits, Thomas
Römer, Neil A. Silberman and Lily Singer-Avitz for allowing me to reprint the articles
which I co-authored with them. Special thanks go to Thomas Römer, who co-authored
four of the articles which appear in this book. My work with Thomas is perceived by
many as an example of critical and fruitful cooperation between a biblical scholar and
an archaeologist, not to mention that we have recently expanded this cooperation to
work in the field – in the excavations of Kiriath-jearim. Many of the views expressed
in this book were shaped by discussions with friends, colleagues and students. Among
the former I wish to mention Oded Lipschits, Nadav Naʼaman and Benjamin Sass.
I am also grateful to the editors of the journals and books in which my articles orig-
inally appeared for permitting me to reprint them here. Finally, special thanks go
to Samuel Arnet for his meticulous, high-quality and uncompromising copyediting,
typesetting and indexing.
Part I
Overviews
1
History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel
1. A Brief History of Research
In the reconstruction of Ancient Israelʼs history, the pendulum has swung back and
forth in the last two centuries between the two poles of traditional and critical inter-
pretations. The tense dispute preceded archaeological research. It commenced with
Spinozaʼs critical exegesis over three and half centuries ago and peaked in the 19th
century with Wellhausen and others. On the side of archaeology, much of the early
work in Palestine, by Sellin and Petrie, for example, had been professional, that is,
not subjected to an uncritical reading of the biblical text. This changed with the rise
of the Albright-dominated traditional biblical archaeology in the early 1920s, which
was aimed at fighting-off critical theories and proving biblical history to be an accu-
rate account of the past. Israeli archaeologists, first and foremost Yadin, joined this
camp in the 1950s for cultural rather than theological reasons. Conservative biblical
archaeology held the upper hand for much of the 20th century. The reaction has been
an ultra-critical (“minimalist”) approach that appeared in the 1990s, arguing against
the traditional use of archaeology in reconstructing the history of Ancient Israel in
the Iron Age and advocating the view that biblical texts which refer to the history
of Ancient Israel were all compiled in the Persian and Hellenistic periods and thus
have no real value for understanding earlier periods.1 And since minimalism is about
oneʼs approach to the biblical text, “accusing” archaeologists of being minimalists2
demonstrates a misunderstanding of the entire discipline. Parallel to the work of the
minimalists, a school which can be described as promoting a “view from the center”
has developed. Members of this school, to which I belong, take a critical attitude
toward both text and archaeology, but differ from the minimalists in arguing that a
significant number of biblical records date to late-monarchic times, and that some
accounts preserve memories of earlier days in the Iron Age.3 Needless to say, the “view
from the center” group is far from being homogeneous.4
As could have been expected, the expansion of the critical approach, especially the
1 E.g., Davies 1992; Thompson 1999.

2 Garfinkel 2011.
3 For this approach, which has recently been ingeniously described by Jean-Marie Durand
in French as deconstruction positive, see, e.g., Finkelstein and Silberman 2001; Liverani 2005;
Miller and Hayes 2006; Naʼaman 2006; Knauf 2013.
4 See, e.g., Naʼaman 2010a; Finkelstein 2010.
6 Part I: Overviews
one “from the center,” which has been conceived, in a way, as posing a greater threat,
brought about a series of attempts to prove it wrong and to re-establish a conservative
reconstruction of the history of Ancient Israel. Ironically, though the neo-traditional-
ists are all archaeologists, their interpretation is text-based; their advances can be seen
as a revival of the Albright schoolʼs assault on late 19th/early 20th century develop-
ments in critical biblical research in Europe and yet again, they come from different
cultural milieus. The current conservative trend is best demonstrated by recent claims
that:
– The palace of King David has been found in the City of David in Jerusalem;5
– Finds at Khirbet Qeiyafa in the Shephelah provide evidence for a developed king-
dom in Judah in the 10th century BCE and can be read against the background of
biblical texts ostensibly describing events which had taken place at that time;6 the
ostracon retrieved there demonstrates the possibility of composition of biblical texts
as early as the 10th century BCE;7
– Copper production at Khirbet en-Naḥas and Timnaʽ in the Arabah is connected to
the economic endeavors of King Solomon.8
More subtle but no less misleading are interpretations of sets of data from past exca-
vations, for instance regarding the “Israelite fortresses” in the Negev Highlands,9 and
concerning an ostensible change in the settlement patterns of the 10th century BCE
which was interpreted as indicating the organization of a developed kingdom in
Ancient Israel.10 Both examples demonstrate incorrect methodology, because they
select and set the data in a way that leads to the requested result.11
2. How to “View from the Center”?
Traditional biblical archaeology and reconstruction of the history of Ancient Israel

are based on accepting the most basic perception of the author of the text – that the
history of Ancient Israel from the patriarchs in Genesis to the Return in Ezra and
Nehemiah is a genuine description of a sequential history of the nation. This is not
the case;12 I tend to look at biblical history from a point of view once described by the
5 E. Mazar 2007; 2009; rejoinder in Finkelstein et al. 2007.

6 E.g., Garfinkel, Kreimerman, and Zilberg 2016; rejoinders in Naʼaman 2012a; Finkelstein
and Fantalkin 2012; Fantalkin and Finkelstein 2017; Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2015.
7 Galil 2009; Puech 2010; rejoinders in Rollston 2011; Millard 2011.
8 E.g., Levy et al. 2008; Ben Yosef 2016, returning to Glueckʼs 1940s ideas about Solomon the
copper king.
9 Faust 2006, proven wrong by recent radiocarbon dates that put the sites in the 9th cen-
tury BCE, see Boaretto et al. 2010.
10 Faust 2006.
11 Finkelstein 2005.
12 Römer 2014.
1. History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel 7
French annals scholar Marc Bloch as histoire regressive. The idea is that in a situation
of uncertainty (and stories such as the patriarchs, Exodus and conquest clearly belong
to this category) the researcher must base him/herself in a period for which the tes-
timony – historical, economic, social and material culture – is well-defined, and only
then start reconstructing back, step by step. In the case of Ancient Israel, the safest
period to serve as a point of departure is the time of the first authors in Jerusalem, that
is, in late-monarchic days (more below). Keeping to the “rules” I will describe below,
this reconstruction must be done with as reliable a grip as possible over the question
of transmission of traditions, oral and/or written and the ideological/theological goals
of the authors.
In certain cases, intuitively traditional biblical archaeologists and historians inher-
ited another concept from the authors – that episodes in the history of Ancient Israel
were unique in the chronicles of the Levant. Yet the history of Canaan/Israel cannot
be detached from events and processes in the surrounding lands in the ancient Near
East and the eastern Mediterranean. The most obvious example is the necessity of
dealing with the destructions at the end of the Late Bronze Age not as singular local
(“conquest”) occurrence, but rather as part of the broader phenomenon of the “Crisis
Years” in the eastern Mediterranean.13 I believe that archaeology – especially what it
tells us about settlement history, forces the researcher to view the history of Canaan/
Israel along the lines of another French annals concept, that of the longue durée.
According to this notion, many of the processes that characterize the region in the
Bronze and Iron Ages – at least until the Assyrian takeover – were of a cyclical nature,
influenced by geographical conditions. This is true for waves of settlement and periods
of decline in the highlands and the arid zones, as well as cycles of urban growth and
collapse in the lowlands.
The crucial question, of course, is what to do when archaeology and the biblical
text provide conflicting stories. In such a case, which of the two has the upper hand,
and do we need to seek a “winner”?14 For archaeology, two factors are dominant:
(1) intensity of the evidence, including the size of the area exposed and, in the case
of a large site, good representation of the different parts of the settlement;15 (2) good
control over the data; only in the case of secure stratigraphy, clear ceramic assem-
blage and good radiocarbon dates does archaeology provide reliable, unbiased, real-
time evidence. Yet, it goes without saying that even in near perfect conditions the
archaeological evidence may be open to different cultural and historical interpreta-
tions. Regarding the text the most important question is the time span between the
ostensible events described and the period of composition. In the case of chrono-
logical proximity and texts of a chronistic nature (that is, free of theological stances
expressed in, e.g., speeches and prophecies), the text may be regarded as providing
13 Ward and Sharp Joukowsky 1992; Cline 2015.

14 See the discussion in Naʼaman 2010a; Finkelstein 2010.
15 For the case of Bethel, see in Naʼaman 2010a; Finkelstein 2010.
8 Part I: Overviews
dependable evidence. When the ostensible events are centuries earlier than the time of
authorship, and the account is not chronistic in nature, the text is less likely to provide
reliable testimony of the past. All this means that in the case of Ancient Israel we are
not dealing with a black-and-white situation and there is no single, checklist attitude
to the question of historicity; each case must be dealt with according to its specific
circumstances (examples below).
Having set the stage, I now wish to turn to what I see as the basic rules of thumb
that must be taken into consideration when dealing with biblical history.
2.1 Itʼs All about Dating

In order to properly use archaeology in historical reconstruction one needs to be in
full control of absolute chronology. By “full control” I mean the following inseparable
trio: data must come from secure stratigraphic context, with good command of rela-
tive chronology, that is, of the ceramic assemblage that originates from this context,
which must be radiocarbon dated. In other words, since the association of a historical
event with archaeological finds such as destruction layers is a tricky endeavor and
because some of the biblical texts on which scholars build their theories cannot be
dealt with as straightforward historical accounts, reliable and independent absolute
chronology is mandatory. It can be achieved mainly by deploying a rigorous program
of radiocarbon dating.
The problem is that radiocarbon dating typically results in an uncertainty of several
decades, which – in the case of biblical history – may lead to utterly different histori-
cal reconstructions. One obvious example is the dating of the late Iron IIA palaces at
Megiddo: a difference of 70–80 years (say, between ca. 940 and 860 BCE) puts them
in utterly different settings: either at the time of the supposed United Monarchy or in
the days of the Omride Dynasty of the Northern Kingdom. An even tighter situation
is the dating of finds in the north to the first or second half of the 9th century (e.g.,
between ca. 850 and 830 BCE!), the former in the days of the Omrides and the latter
in the period of Damascene hegemony in the region. A third example is the dating
of activity in the Negev Highlands sites; putting their main period of occupation in
the mid-10th century or in the first half to the middle of the 9th century results in a
different geopolitical situation vis-à-vis the Sheshonq I campaign, copper production
in the Arabah and the period of Damascene hegemony in the southern Levant.16 Here,
then, is what needs to be done in order to deploy radiocarbon dating successfully:
– Only short-lived samples (grain seeds, olive pits, etc.) should be dated. Charcoal is
risky because it may lead to “old wood effect,” that is, the sample may come from a
piece of old timber, reused many decades if not centuries after the tree was felled.
16 Boaretto et al. 2010; Shahack Gross et al. 2014.

– The sample must include more than a single item (seed, olive pit), which may have
been displaced in antiquity.
– Dating according to a single radiocarbon determination is not reliable because a
sole result can always be an outlier.
– Dating of a site should preferably be done in a sequence of ceramic phases or strata,
because setting the results in a Bayesian model and imposing the stratigraphy on
the data can significantly diminish uncertainties. This can be achieved by arranging
dates from different (preferably neighboring) sites whose relative sequence can be
correlated according to their pottery assemblages,17 or by deploying data for a dense
sequence of well-separated strata at a single site.18
– In the case of a single-layer site, the results should best be set into a regional context,
with layers representing a sequence of ceramic phases. Note, for example, Khirbet
Qeiyafa in the Shephelah: when dated alone, the results fall in the second half of the
11th century;19 when put in context (especially versus Iron I sites in its vicinity) the
site is dated in the first half of the 10th century BCE.20
– Averaging of results can be done only when there is reason to believe that the sam-
ples represent a short period of no more than a few years in the history of a given
settlement. If this is not the case, the results must be plotted rather than averaged.21
Diverting from these rules may lead to mistaken dates, that is, erroneous historical
settings.
2.2 The Israel–Judah Dichotomy

When reconstructing the history of Ancient Israel, differences between southern and
northern traditions embedded in the Bible must be taken into consideration.22 Of
course, the biblical text reflects a southern perspective; this is discernible, for example,
in the arrangement of the Book of Genesis: the patriarchal narrative opens with the
southern Abraham who is made the grandfather of the northern Jacob. In the so-called
Deuteronomistic History all northern kings are evaluated negatively and in the Books
of Chronicles the Northern Kingdom is almost totally ignored. This southern rework-
ing of Israelite traditions has influenced scholars, who in many cases “inherited” the
southern perspective.
Yet, extra-biblical texts and archaeology both demonstrate that historically, Israel
had been the leading force among the Hebrew kingdoms. Israel was demographically
and economically developed long before Judah. The northern territories on both sides
17 E.g., Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2010.

18 For Megiddo, see Toffolo et al. 2014.
19 Garfinkel et al. 2012.
20 Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2015.
21 Opposing views in Garfinkel et al. 2012; Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2015.
22 E.g., Fleming 2012.
10 Part I: Overviews
of the Jordan River had already been densely settled in the Iron I, when the marginal
Judean highlands were still depleted demographically. At that time the population
ratio between the highlands parts of Israel (including the Gilead) and Judah can be
estimated at 25:1! Even in the mid-8th century (that is, before the takeover of the
Gilead by Damascus), the demographic ratio between Israel and Judah can be esti-
mated at ca. 4:1.23 Judah started developing in a significant way in the end-phase of
the late Iron IIA (late 9th century),24 and reached a real peak of prosperity only in the
Iron IIB–C, that is, starting in the late 8th century BCE.25 Population can, of course,
be translated to military and economic strength; indeed, the power of Israel in the
days of the Omrides is clearly depicted in Shalmaneser IIIʼs list of participants in the
Battle of Qarqar in 853 BCE and hinted at in the Tel Dan and Mesha inscriptions; it
is also portrayed in sparse biblical references to both the reign of the Omrides and
the somewhat later days of Joash and Jeroboam II. In addition, Israel controlled more
fertile regions, such as the Jezreel Valley, and trade routes, such as the international
highway along the coast and northern valleys and the Kingʼs Highway in Transjordan.
It was also better connected to the coast and other neighboring regions. All this pro-
moted the Northʼs agricultural output and revenues from trade. In short, demographi-
cally, economically, militarily and geopolitically Israel was the dominant power during
most of the time when the two Hebrew kingdoms existed side by side. These factors
must be taken into consideration when analyzing biblical narratives.
2.3 N
o Evidence for Compilation of Complex Texts before
the Early 8th Century
In a recent article Benjamin Sass and I studied afresh the West Semitic alphabetic
inscriptions from the Levant that date from the Late Bronze to the early phase of
the Iron IIB, that is, until the early 8th century BCE.26 We concluded that Hebrew
inscriptions appear for the first time in the late Iron IIA/1 at Gath in the south and
Rehob in the north. But at that time (first half of the 9th century BCE) they are not
found in the heartland of Israel and Judah. It is especially significant that not a single
Hebrew inscription comes from the major cities of the Omride period, Megiddo,
Samaria, Jezreel, Yokneam and Hazor and the inscriptions that do appear in the 9th
century do not testify to the ability to compose elaborate texts. Monumental stone
inscriptions appear in the late 9th century BCE. But here again, the ability of dynastic
scribes to compose royal inscriptions (or, theoretically speaking, of administrators to
put together lists of commodities) cannot be compared to authoring complex literary
biblical texts. The first significantly long and elaborate inscriptions in a genre which
23 Broshi and Finkelstein 1992.

24 Fantalkin and Finkelstein 2006; Fantalkin 2008; Sergi 2013.
25 Jamieson Drake 1991; Finkelstein and Silberman 2006a.
26 Finkelstein and Sass 2013; somewhat updated in Sass and Finkelstein 2016.
recalls biblical compositions appear in the first half of the 8th century on plaster in
the Northern Kingdom – the Tell Deir ʽAlla Balaam text27 and a Kuntillet ʽAjrud text
recently interpreted by Naʼaman as possibly connected to the Exodus tradition.28
The observations above seem to exclude the possibility of the composition of bib-
lical texts before the first half of the 8th century BCE. This statement includes the-
ories regarding early Pentateuchal materials and pre-Deuteronomistic materials in
the Books of Samuel such as the Rise of David to Power and the Succession History.29
And this makes perfect sense historically: the sudden appearance of developed texts
in the first half of the 8th century, probably in the days of Jeroboam II, is connected
to the general prosperity in this period and probably related to a re-organization of
the kingdom at that time.
2.4 Early Traditions in the Bible: How Far Back Can They Go?
What has just been said about the spread of writing may lead to the conclusion that
materials which describe events that ostensibly took place in the early phases of the
history of Ancient Israel, centuries before the compilation of biblical texts or even the
ability to put texts in writing, should be considered fictitious – an invention of later
authors, aimed to advance their goals. Another way to formulate this would be to
argue that the early “history” of Ancient Israel is a-historical. Such a statement would
be inaccurate.
Archaeology, extra biblical texts and advanced biblical exegesis show that the
Hebrew Bible contains what I would describe as early “memories” historical or, pref-
erably, quasi-historical that originated centuries before the earliest possible date for
the composition of biblical texts. They would have had to be transmitted orally until
they were put in writing, and can be taken as preserving references to early historical
situations, though certainly not as accurate descriptions of the past. As read today,
they are sometimes concealed in later textual layers and wrapped in the ideology of
the period/s of the author/s. Let me give a few examples.
The first comes from my excavations at Shiloh over three decades ago. Archae-
ology has shown that Shiloh prospered in the early to middle Iron I and was utterly
destroyed before the end of the period. Radiocarbon results put this destruction in the
second half of the 11th century BCE.30 There was no significant settlement at Shiloh in
the Iron II and Persian periods. The Iron II remains are apparently restricted to one
sector of the site and revealed no sign of a cult place and the Persian period yielded
only scanty remains. It is difficult, therefore, to read the Shiloh sanctuary tradition
against an Iron II or later background and for this reason it is unfeasible to associate
27 Summary in Aḥituv 2008, 433–465 and bibliography on p. 465.

28 Naʼaman 2011a.
29 E.g., Halpern 2001; Dietrich 2007.
the tradition regarding the devastation of this cult place, as related in the Book of
Jeremiah, with the conquest of the Northern Kingdom by the Assyrians in the late
8th century.31
This seems to mean that there was a strong memory in late-monarchic Judah
of an early cult place at Shiloh. It could have originated from an orally-transmitted
North Israelite tradition that reached Judah after 720 BCE. Judahite recognition of
the importance of this cult place could have catered to the ex-Israelites, who seem to
have comprised a major element in the population of Judah in late-monarchic times
(below). At the same time, the biblical tradition in Jeremiah takes a strictly Judahite
point of view in subordinating Shiloh to Jerusalem. The stories regarding the sinful
behavior of the priests at Shiloh, the defeat of Israel and the eventual transfer of the
Ark from Shiloh to Jerusalem could have served the Deuteronomistic ideology as a
cultic parallel to the rejection of Saul (and the North) and the election of David.32 In
the case of Shiloh we have evidence, then, for the preservation in the Bible of mem-
ories, vague as they may be, of events that probably took place in the second half of
the 11th century BCE.
Another example can be found in the heroic tales in Judges 3–12.33 The early layers
in these chapters present Northern tales of a local nature that disclose a pre-Omride
ambiance, for instance the description of Apiru groups in the Jephthah and Abimelech
accounts.34 The entire corpus relates to the core territory of Israel (the northern part of
the central highlands, the Gilead, the Jezreel Valley and the hills to its north) and prob-
ably contains memories of events that took place on the eve or in the early days of the
Northern Kingdom, in the 10th century BCE.35 The stories were probably assembled
and committed to writing in Israel in the first half of the 8th century. Deuteronomistic
and post-Deuteronomistic layers were added later; they sometimes blur or conceal
the original tales.
Other, no less known early Northern traditions are embedded in the Pentateuch.
The first is an early layer in the Jacob Cycle, which seems to have originated from the
area of the Jabbok River in the Gilead. It deals with the border between Israelites and
Arameans in this region and possibly also with the foundation of the temple at Penuel.
Based on both exegetical and archaeological evidence (for the latter mainly settlement
patterns) Thomas Römer and I proposed to date the (oral) origin of these stories
before the middle of the 9th century BCE.36 The Exodus narrative may have origi-
nated from an even older tradition, which some scholars propose to associate with
the geo-political situation in the Levant at the end of the Middle Bronze Age37 or in
31 Contra, e.g., Pearce 1973.

32 See also Psalms 78:60–71, Miller and Hayes 2006, 133.
33 The savior stories in Richter 1966.
34 For the latter, see Naʼaman 2011b.
35 See, e.g., Finkelstein 2017b (chapter 14 in this volume).
36 Finkelstein and Römer 2014 (chapter 4 in this volume).
37 Redford 1987.
the Late Bronze Age.38 Evidently, both traditions have later layers, which include their
incorporation into late-monarchic Judah and then a post-exilic tier. Good examples
of early memories that found their way into relatively late compilations are the Moab
narratives in Numbers 21–22. These chapters preserve traditions related to the Israelite
conquest of the mishor of Moab in the days of the Omride Dynasty, traditions which
are supported by both archaeological finds39 and the Mesha Inscription.40
The Books of Samuel include pre-Deuteronomistic traditions41 that come from
both the North and the South. Regarding the former I refer to what I would call the
“positive” Saul narrative. The stories are focused on the highlands of Benjamin and the
area of the Jabbok, demonstrating close similarity to places listed by Sheshonq I fol-
lowing his campaign in Canaan in the second half of the 10th century. The highlands
of Benjamin feature a system of fortified sites dated to that century, possibly testifying
to its being the hub of an early territorial polity.
The early Southern tradition in Samuel deals with the Shephelah and the south-
ern (fringe) sector of the Judean highlands. The Rise of David to Power narrative
puts Gath as the most important of the Philistine cities. Gath is described as ruling
over the entire southern part of the Shephelah, from Ziklag in the southwest and the
Beer-sheba Valley in the south to the Sorek Valley in the north. Excavations at Tell
eṣ-Ṣafi, the location of biblical Gath, show that in the first half of the 9th century BCE
it was the largest and probably most prosperous city in the southern lowlands. It was
violently destroyed in the late 9th century, probably by Hazael king of Damascus, and
never fully recovered from this event.42 According to the Great Summary Inscrip-
tion of Sargon II, in the late 8th century Gath was a subordinate of Ashdod, and it
does not appear among the Philistine cities in early 7th century Assyrian sources and
in late-monarchic prophetic works.43 The dominant role of Gath in the early David
material must therefore represent a pre-840/830 BCE reality.44 Preservation of what
can be described as “Apiru ambiance” in the Rise of David to Power narrative45 must
also predate the late 9th century, when the Judahite settlement system expanded to the
Shephelah and the area south of Hebron. In other words, it is reasonable to assume
that by the middle of the 9th century, there was no longer room for the activity of
Apiru bands in this region.
Not all narratives that describe the early days of Ancient Israel have a historical
germ in them. Not a single tradition in the conquest stories in the Book of Joshua
can safely be associated with events that took place at the end of the Late Bronze Age,
38 Bietak 1987; Hendel 2001; Naʼaman 2011c.

39 Finkelstein and Lipschits 2011.
40 E.g., Lemaire 2007; see more in chapter 6.
41 E.g., Halpern 2001; Dietrich 2007.
42 Maeir 2004; 2012.
43 Schniedewind 1998.
44 Maeir 2004.
45 Naʼaman 2010b.
not to mention that many of the sites referred to had not been inhabited at all at that
time. Most if not all of the Joshua conquest traditions seem to have originated from
local etiological stories (Ai, Hazor, Makkedah) and the overall scheme may portray
territorial ideologies in Israel and Judah in late monarchic times.46
Let me summarize this brief discussion of materials in the Bible representing early
phases in the history of Ancient Israel with two comments. First, most of these old
materials came from the North, which had a more significant population, emerged to
dominance earlier than Judah and was probably capable of composing complex texts
before the Southern Kingdom. Second, it is archaeology that plays an important, not
to say crucial, role in identifying such early traditions.
2.5 Accumulated Memories

Needless to say, having been transmitted over centuries, first orally and then in
writing, old memories or traditions must have absorbed later layers, which came from
additions, elaborations and redactions, and which may depict the realities of passing
time. The results are texts, some extensive and others just short references, that can be
described as representing accumulated, or to use a term from archaeology, stratified
traditions.
One of the best examples of stratified traditions is the David narrative in 1 Samuel.
It presents realities that come from several different historical settings. The three that
look to me most obvious are mentioned here. The core story describes David and
his band as mercenaries active on the arid fringe of Judah south of Hebron and on
the border of Philistine Gath. This material represents a phase in the history of the
region before the demographic (and hence, also administrative) expansion of Judah
into these areas, that is, before the late Iron IIA (in this case probably the later phase of
the period in the second half of the 9th century BCE). Descriptions of wars conducted
by King David seem to portray realities of later times when the territorial kingdoms of
the Levant, including their armies, had already been consolidated.47 A still later layer is
embedded with references to the Philistines as Greek mercenaries and is characterized
by Deuteronomistic language; therefore, it fits a situation no earlier than the late 7th
century BCE.48
I regard the Solomon chapters in the same way. The early section (1 Kgs 1–2)
belongs to the Succession History which may depict late 8th century needs, a “reac-
tion” to Israelite traditions that arrived in Judah after 720 BCE.49 The traditions that
portray Solomon as a great monarch, builder and merchant, reflect realities of both
the 8th century before the fall of the North and the following “Assyrian century”
47 Naʼaman 2002.
48 On all this Finkelstein and Silberman 2006b.
49 Finkelstein and Silberman 2006a.
in the history of Judah. The reference to Hazor, Megiddo and Gezer as important
centers of Solomonʼs kingdom (1 Kgs 9:15), the descriptions of his horses and stables,
as well as the reality behind the story of cities given to Hiram king of Tyre must come
from the Northern Kingdom. But stories such as the visit of the queen of Sheba and
trade expeditions sailing off from Ezion-geber reflect the participation of Judah in
the Assyrian-led Arabian trade, probably in the days of Manasseh, a period of great
prosperity in the South. Finally, the condemnation of Solomon in 1 Kings 11 portrays
an unmistakable Deuteronomistic tone from the late 7th century, that is, after the
Assyrian withdrawal. These layers represent not only different historical settings but
also different ideologies.
A good example of a short, accumulated tradition is the reference to Aram Beth-
rehob and [Aram] Zobah in 2 Sam 10:6–8 and 2 Sam 8:3, 5, 12. The author created
a story here from separate memories that come from different centuries. Hadadezer
probably refers to Hadadidri king of Damascus, the ally of Ahab in the battle of
Qarqar. The idea of a strong Aramean king hostile to Israel seemingly refers to the
figure of Hazael.50 Rehob in the Beth-shean Valley, probably a late-Canaanite city-state
(Aramean-influenced from the point of view of material culture), is confused with
Beth-rehob in the Beqaʽ of Lebanon, which could not have survived as an independent
principality after the Damascene expansion to the west in the second half of the 9th
century BCE. This confusion probably stems from the importance of Zobah = Subat
as an Assyrian administration center in the days of Tiglath-pileser III and Sargon II.
And all this is “telescoped” back to the 10th century by a late 7th century BCE author.
2.6 How Were Old Traditions Preserved and Transferred to Judah?

A major riddle is how old stories were preserved, especially during the time before
having been put in writing. One possibility is that they were kept (first orally and
then in a written form) in regional shrines, which preserved and promoted local tra-
ditions. For instance, the Jacob Gilead cycle may have been preserved at the Temple
of Penuel, the Exodus narrative could have been venerated at Samaria and early tra-
ditions regarding the presence of Israel in the mishor of Moab could have been mem-
orized at Nebo, referred to as a location of an Israelite shrine in the Mesha Inscrip-
tion. Viewing this from the perspective of what I noted above regarding the history of
scribal activity, this seems to indicate that the transition from oral to written tradition
should be placed sometime around 800 BCE or slightly later in Israel and perhaps the
late 8th century and more so the 7th century BCE in Judah. In the North, historical
considerations seem to point to the days of Jeroboam II, when Israel reached the
peak of its prosperity and when the kingdom was apparently re-organized, including
assembling its most important foundation myths, royal traditions and heroic tales.51
50 Naʼaman 2002.
51 Finkelstein 2017a (chapter 18 in this volume).
In the South transition to written traditions may have taken place under Assyrian
domination or slightly later.
The second question, when and how Israelite traditions “migrated” to Judah, is
essential for reconstructing the history of Ancient Israel and, in fact, for establishing a
foundation for understanding the composition of the Hebrew Bible. This is so because
of the large number of such traditions and their relatively early date (above). This
is connected to another issue: why these traditions, some of them hostile to Judah,
were incorporated into the Southern canon; after all, Judahite authors could have
simply ignored the North, as did the author/s of Chronicles centuries later. Several
scholars pointed to the possibility that Northern traditions came to the South with
Israelites who settled there in the decades after 720 BCE.52 Archaeology seems to
provide support for this theory – mainly in the realm of settlement patterns. I refer
to the massive demographic growth in Jerusalem in particular and Judah in general
in the late 8th/early 7th centuries BCE. As far as I can judge the demographic trans-
formation of Judah cannot be explained otherwise.53 And this population upheaval
could have been the trigger for the rise of the pan-Israelite ideology in Judah. In its
early days, under the domination of Assyria, it was pan-Israelite within, directed at the
new mix of Judahite and Israelites in the Southern Kingdom, in an attempt to create
a shared identity. Only later, after the Assyrian withdrawal from the region, was the
pan-Israelite ideology “exported” to address Israelites who lived in the territories of
the ex-Northern Kingdom. This was the moment of the rise of the Davidic territorial
ideology that finds expression in the description of the Golden Age of David and
Solomon: the great United Monarchy to be.
2.7 Theology versus History

Evidently, the biblical description of the history of Ancient Israel is immersed in the
political ideology and theology of late-monarchic and post-exilic authors. The ques-
tion, then, is how to read this history without succumbing to the ideological program
of these authors. Of course, the first distinction that must be made is between chro-
nistic reports and theology-laden statements, speeches and prophecies. If one takes
the story of Jeroboam I in 1 Kings 12:25–29 as an example, the report about Shechem
and Penuel in v. 25 is of a chronistic nature, and hence may portray an old memory,
while vv. 26–29 are of a cult-evaluation character. Indeed archaeology indicates that
Dan was probably not inhabited in the days of Jeroboam I.54
In this connection I wish to come back to the question of whether biblical accounts
are more historical when they describe times close to the days of the authors. Here
the answer is both positive and negative. Let me cite as an example the “Assyrian
52 Broshi 1974; van der Toorn 1996, 339–372; Schniedewind 2004.

53 For the debate over this matter, see recently Naʼaman 2014; Finkelstein 2015a.
54 Arie 2008; for the biblical text, see Berlejung 2009.
century” in the history of Judah, between ca. 730 and ca. 630 BCE. Three kings
ruled in Jerusalem at that time: Ahaz, Hezekiah and Manasseh. The framework of
their reigns, their dates, years on the throne and connection to Assyrian monarchs,
is fully historical, but theology is obviously at work in the manner in which their
stories are told.55 Ahaz is evaluated negatively, while archaeology demonstrates that
he reigned when Judah made its enormous progress as a densely populated, eco-
nomically prospering kingdom. Hezekiah is judged favorably, while archaeology
shows that in his time, and as a result of his catastrophic decision to participate in
an uprising against Assyria, the Shephelah and Beer-sheba Valley were devastated by
Sennacherib; every Judahite center excavated in these areas reveals signs of severe
destruction. Manasseh is evaluated as the most wicked and worst sinner among
all Judahite kings, whose cult behavior eventually brought about the fall of Judah,
but archaeology indicates that in his time Judah was revitalized, participated as a
compliant vassal in the Assyrian global economy and as a result prospered as never
before. At that time scribal activity spread and this contributed to the possibility, a
few decades later, of composing the first “edition” of the Deuteronomistic History.
A major obstacle is the lack of consensus in exegetical research regarding the date of
compilation of texts that deal with the later history of Ancient Israel; I refer especially,
but not only, to Ezra, Nehemiah and Chronicles. This makes it difficult to evaluate the
reality behind these works, especially when it comes to geographical materials. Good
examples are the parts of Chronicles (mainly in 2 Chr) not mentioned in Kings which
describe ostensible historical events, such as the war between Abijah and Jeroboam I
or the invasion of Judah by Zerah the Cushite. The date of Chronicles has long been
debated, between the 6th and 2nd centuries BCE – a span of four centuries. Evidently,
the author could have had access to genuine Iron Age materials had he been active in
the 6th century; less so in the 2nd century, under utterly different historical circum-
stances. Indeed, I would suggest seeing these passages not as relying on unknown
Iron Age sources, but rather as providing legitimacy for the territorial expansion of
the Hasmoneans.56
3. Summary: Landmarks in the Development of Early Biblical History
Writing this article has been challenging enough; summarizing it is even more so.
I do so, however, in order to emphasize what I see as the most important factors in
the process of compilation of the history of Ancient Israel in the Bible. Though the
paragraphs below may sound devoid of archaeological perspectives, the reader should
acknowledge that modern archaeological research stands behind almost every sen-
tence. So here is my ani maamin (Hebr. I believe), or better, in fact, my “I suppose”:
55 Naʼaman 1994.
56 Finkelstein 2015b (chapter 30 in this volume).
The biblical description of the history of Ancient Israel includes old “memories”
which go back to as early as the formative days of the Northern Kingdom, the termi-
nal phase of the second millennium (in the case of Shiloh, for instance) and perhaps
even earlier, if Exodus preserves a reference to the expulsion of Asiatics from the Nile
Delta in the 16th century BCE.57 Most of these early memories come from the North.
This should come as no surprise as Israel was more densely inhabited than Judah,
more developed economically, better connected to trade routes and events in the low-
lands and better incorporated in the geo-political and cultural scene of the Levant.
As a result the North developed advanced writing abilities earlier than the South. But
Judah, too, preserved early traditions, for instance in the story of David as a leader of
an Apiru band which acted on the southern fringe of the kingdom.
The grand leap forward came in the 8th century. I suspect that the writing abilities
demonstrated in Tell Deir ʽAlla and Kuntillet ʽAjrud of the early 8th century are con-
nected to the reorganization of Israel in the days of Jeroboam II, probably the greatest
of the Israelite kings. It is logical to assume, although impossible to prove, that early
Israelite traditions were put in writing for the first time during his reign. In Judah,
composition of text may have started half a century later, with the incorporation of the
kingdom into the Assyrian empire as a vassal state and the beginning of Assyrian eco-
nomic and cultural influence; by the latter I refer to both the advanced bureaucracy
and the impact of Assyrian literary genres.
Apart from the possible existence of north Israelite texts, from ideological and
theological perspectives, biblical history begins in 720 BCE, with the fall of Israel.
Judah and Israel, kingdoms very different from each other in terms of the environ-
mental conditions and nature of population, had some common cultural characteris-
tics, such as language, features of material culture and cult. With the fall of Israel and
the migration of many Israelites to Jerusalem and Judah, the demographic make-up of
the Southern Kingdom altered dramatically, in the sense that Israelites became a large
portion of its population. Judah now conceived of itself as the inheritor and preserver
of the shared tradition of the two Hebrew kingdoms and took the vacant name of
the North, Israel, to describe the united nation (to be) under its rule. This is the time
when pan-Israelite ideology developed for the first time; it promoted two messages,
the acceptance by all Israelites of the rule of the Davidic dynasty and the dominance
of Jerusalem with its Temple. For a century, these ideas were advanced within Judah,
among the mixed Israelite–Judahite population: a sort of United Monarchy within.
And as part of efforts to “make” a new Israel in Judah, Israelite traditions were incor-
porated into the Judahite texts, but were subjected to Judahite ideological goals. Only
with the withdrawal of Assyria in the late 7th century during the rule of Josiah were
these ideas “exported” to the ex-Israelite territories as an updated ideology, according
to which all Hebrews who lived both in Judah and in the territory of the fallen Israel,
57 Redford 1987.
“from Dan to Beer-sheba,” were required to accept the Davidides and the Jerusalem
Temple in order to be part of Benei Israel.
This ideology needed a facelift in exilic times, after the destruction of Jerusalem
and the end of the Davidic dynasty and this involved redactions and revisions of old
texts and the production of new ones. What followed next is a riddle. The Persian
period has become a fad in biblical scholarship, with almost every biblical book sup-
posedly having been compiled or redacted at that time. Yet, we know almost nothing
of this period from extra-biblical sources and the archaeological evidence is meager.
The risk of reconstructing biblical history solely from the biblical text, evidently an
endeavor that entails circular-reasoning, has been demonstrated time and again with
regard to earlier phases in Israelite history. And yet scholars repeatedly fall into this
trap. Can the ruins of Jerusalem, with perhaps 500 inhabitants, not even a trace of
a single house and almost no evidence for writing in Hebrew, be credited with the
production of a large portion of biblical literature? Can this colossal achievement
be attributed to poor Yehud with a destitute rural population of a few thousand? Or,
should we seek other venues for the compilation of many of these texts, Babylonia for
example,58 or Egypt?
Archaeology and extra-biblical sources, this time the rich Jewish literature of the
late Hellenistic period in the 2nd century BCE, seem to indicate that much of the
more specific materials for reconstructing history in Nehemiah and Chronicles, espe-
cially geography-related lists in Nehemiah and descriptions in Chronicles which do
not appear in Kings, depict realities in Hasmonean times.59 If and how much a Has-
monean “touch” can be identified in other books that describe the history of Ancient
Israel need to be investigated in the future with the following question in mind: Was
there an attempt to rewrite the biblical history in the days of the Hasmoneans?
4. Addendum
1. Inscriptions of Gath and Rehob: Sass and I have now changed our view regard-
ing their nature and significance.60
2. Kuntillet ʽAjrud plaster Inscription 4.3: Krause61 rejected Naʼamanʼs affiliation
of the text with the Exodus tradition and Naʼaman too now withdraws this
proposal (personal communication).
58 Albertz 2003.
60 Finkelstein and Sass, in press.
61 Krause 2017.
3. Shiloh: Recent finds at the site indicate continuity of cult activity at the site in
the late Iron IIA, after an occupation gap. The memory in Jeremiah seems to be
associated with this period, rather than the Iron I.62
4. Shechem and Penuel in 1 Kgs 12:25: I see this reference as a reflection of the
situation in the time of Jeroboam II, retrojected in the text to the days of Je-
roboam I.
5. References
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Jerusalem: Carta.
Albertz, R. 2003. Israel in Exile: The History and Literature of the Sixth Century B.C.E. Atlanta:
Society of Biblical Literature.
Arie, E. 2008. “Reconsidering the Iron Age II Strata at Tel Dan: Archaeological and Historical
Implications.” TA 35: 6–64.
Ben-Yosef, E. 2016. “Back to Solomonʼs Era: Results of the First Excavations at ‘Slavesʼ Hill’ (Site
34, Timna, Israel).” BASOR 376: 169–198.
Berlejung, A. 2009. “Twisting Traditions: Programmatic Absence-Theology for the Northern
Kingdom in 1 Kgs 12:26–33* (The ‘Sin of Jeroboam’).” Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages
35: 1–42.
Bietak, M. 1987. “Comments on the ‘Exodus.’ ” Pages 163–171 in Egypt, Israel, Sinai: Archaeolog-
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Aviv University.
Boaretto, E., I. Finkelstein, and R. Shahack-Gross. 2010. “Radiocarbon Results from the Iron IIA
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Broshi, M. 1974. “The Expansion of Jerusalem in the Reigns of Hezekiah and Manasseh.” IEJ
24: 21–26.
Broshi, M., and I. Finkelstein. 1992. “The Population of Palestine in Iron Age II.” BASOR 287:
47–60.
Cline, E. H. 2015. 1177 B.C.: The Year Civilization Collapsed. Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
Davies, Ph. 1992. In Search of Ancient Israel. Sheffield: JSOT Press.
Dietrich, W. 2007. The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B.C.E. Atlanta: Society of
Biblical Literature.
Fantalkin, A. 2008. “The Appearance of Rock-Cut Bench Tombs in Iron Age Judah as a Reflec-
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Levant during the Bronze and Iron Ages in Honour of Israel Finkelstein. Edited by A. Fantalkin
and A. Yasur-Landau. Leiden: Brill.
Fantalkin, A., and I. Finkelstein. 2006. “The Sheshonq I Campaign and the 8th Century Earth-
quake: More on the Archaeology and History of the South in the Iron I–Iron IIA.” TA 33:
18–42.
–. 2017. “The Date of Abandonment and Territorial Affiliation of Khirbet Qeiyafa: An Update.”
TA 44: 53–60.
62 On my current understanding of the archaeology of Shiloh and biblical references to the

site, see chapters 7 and 20 in this volume.
Faust, A. 2003. “Abandonment, Urbanization, Resettlement and the Formation of the Israelite
State.” NEA 66: 147–161.
–. 2006. “The Negev ‘Fortresses’ in Context: Reexamining the ‘Fortress’ Phenomenon in Light
of General Settlement Processes of the Eleventh–Tenth Centuries B.C.E.” JAOS 126: 135–160.
Finkelstein, I. 2005. “[De]formation of the Israelite State: A Rejoinder on Methodology.” NEA
68: 202–208.
–. 2010. “Archaeology as High Court in Ancient Israelite History: A Reply to Nadav Naʼaman.”
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–. 2015a. “Migration of Israelites into Judah after 720 BCE: An Answer and an Update.” ZAW
127: 188–206.
–. 2015b. “The Expansion of Judah in II Chronicles: Territorial Legitimation for the Has-
moneans?” ZAW 127: 669–695.
–. 2017a. “A Corpus of North Israelite Texts in the Days of Jeroboam II?” HBAI 6: 262–289.
–. 2017b. “Major Saviors, Minor Judges: The Historical Background of the Northern Accounts
in the Book of Judges.” JSOT 41: 431–449.
–. 2020. “Was There an Early Northern (Israelite) Conquest Tradition?” Pages 211–221 in Eigen-
sinn und Entstehung der Hebräischen Bibel: Erhard Blum zum siebzigsten Geburtstag. Edited
by J. J. Krause, W. Oswald, and K. Weingart. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck.
Finkelstein, I., and A. Fantalkin. 2012. “Khirbet Qeiyafa: An Unsensational Archaeological and
Historical Interpretation.” TA 39: 38–63.
Finkelstein, I., Z. Herzog, L. Singer-Avitz, and D. Ussishkin. 2007. “Has the Palace of King David
in Jerusalem Been Found?” TA 34: 142–164.
Finkelstein, I., and O. Lipschits. 2011. “The Genesis of Moab.” Levant 43: 139–152.
Finkelstein, I., and E. Piasetzky. 2009. “Radiocarbon-Dated Destruction Layers: A Skeleton for
Iron Age Chronology in the Levant.” OJA 28: 255–274.
–. 2010. “Radiocarbon Dating the Iron Age in the Levant: A Bayesian Model for Six Ceramic
Phases and Six Transitions.” Antiquity 84: 374–385.
–. 2015. “Radiocarbon Dating Khirbet Qeiyafa and the Iron I–IIA Phases in the Shephelah:
Methodological Comments and a Bayesian Model.” Radiocarbon 57: 891–907.
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rative in Genesis.” ZAW 126: 317–338.
Finkelstein, I., and B. Sass. 2013. “The West Semitic Alphabetic Inscriptions, Late Bronze II to
Iron IIA: Archeological Context, Distribution and Chronology.” HBAI 2: 149–220.
–. In press. “The Exceptional Concentration of Alphabetic Iron IIA Inscriptions at Gath
and Rehob and the Emergence of the Hebrew Alphabetic Variant.” In Oral et écrit dans le
Proche-Orient ancien: Les processus de rédaction et dʼédition. Actes du colloque organisé par
le Collège de France, Paris, les 26 et 27 mai 2015. Edited by T. Römer, H. Gonzalez, and L.
Marti. Leuven.
Finkelstein, I., and N. A. Silberman. 2001. The Bible Unearthed: Archaeologyʼs New Vision of
Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts. New York: The Free Press.
–. 2006a. “Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the Rise of the Pan-
Israelite Ideology.” JSOT 30: 259–285.
–. 2006b. David and Solomon: In Search of the Bibleʼs Sacred Kings and the Roots of the Western
Tradition. New York: The Free Press.
Fleming, D. E. 2012. The Legacy of Israel in Judahʼs Bible: History, Politics, and the Reinscribing
of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Galil, G. 2009. “The Hebrew Inscription from Khirbet Qeiyafa/Netafim.” UF 41: 193–242.
Garfinkel, Y. 2011. “The Birth and Death of Biblical Minimalism.” BAR 37: 46–53, 78.
Garfinkel, Y., I. Kreimerman, and P. Zilberg. 2016. Debating Khirbet Qeiyafa: A Fortified City in
Judah from the Time of King David. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.
Garfinkel, Y., K. Streit, S. Ganor, and M. G. Hasel. 2012. “State Formation in Judah: Biblical
Tradition, Modern Historical Theories, and Radiometric Dates at Khirbet Qeiyafa.” Radio-
carbon 54: 359–369.
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Jamieson-Drake, D. W. 1991. Scribes and Schools in Monarchic Judah. Sheffield: Sheffield Aca-
demic Press.
Knauf, E. A. 2013. Data and Debates: Essays in the History and Culture of Israel and Its Neighbors
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VT 67: 485–490.
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Knabb, J. P. Schulze, M. Najjar, and L. Tauxe. 2008. “High-Precision Radiocarbon Dating and
Historical Biblical Archaeology in Southern Jordan.” PNAS 105: 16460–16465.
Liverani, M. 2005. Israelʼs History and the History of Israel. London: Equinox.
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2
The Appearance and Dissemination of

Writing in Israel and Judah1
1. Prologue
A large body of scholarly work has been devoted to the question of the beginning of
writing in Israel and Judah, with reference to the composition of biblical texts.2 These
highly learned discussions have dealt with methodological, exegetical, literary and
ancient Near Eastern considerations, but have failed to deal critically with actual Iron
Age evidence of the Hebrew inscriptions. By critically, I refer to the archaeological
context of the finds, that is, stratigraphy, ceramic typology of the given layer where an
inscription was found, and the most decisive issue, absolute chronology. Chronology
reflects on both history of scribal activity and the discipline of paleography. For this
reason, over ten years ago, I decided to enter this lionʼs den, from the perspective, of
course, of archaeology.
My contribution to this discussion has been in two research tracks: The first is
work with my colleague and friend of many years, Benjamin Sass, a leading expert in
the fields of paleography and epigraphy. Our work has concentrated on evidence of
early writing in the southern Levant – in the later phase of the Late Bronze, the Iron I
and the Iron IIA.3 Our main methodological contribution has been the emphasis on
the importance of secure archaeological contexts in dating inscriptions and the impor-
tance of this aspect for the study of the chrono-geographical dissemination of writing.
We demonstrated that the Proto-Canaanite script continued to be present until the 9th
century BCE, perhaps even relatively late in this century; that “supra-regional cursive”
script characterizes the Iron IIA inscriptions found at Tell eṣ-Ṣafi/Gath and Tel Reḥov;
and that Hebrew and other local scripts appeared only ca. 800 BCE. We identified the
earliest Hebrew script in the Samaria ostraca in Israel and in several Arad inscriptions
in Judah. The second research track was carried out by the Digital Epigraphy team at
Tel Aviv University, which I co-direct with Eliezer Piasetzky of the School of Physics
1 The original title of the article focused on Judah, but the fact of the matter is that it also deals
with the earliest writing in Israel, hence the change of title. For writing in Persian period Yehud
and early Hellenistic Judea, see the closing part in chapter 29. I wish to thank Benjamin Sass
for reading the original manuscript of this chapter and providing me with important remarks.
2 To cite only a few recent works: Carr 2005, 111–173; van der Toorn 2007; Rollston 2010;
Bloom 2010; Demsky 2014; different works in Schmidt 2015; Richelle 2016.
3 Finkelstein and Sass 2013; in press; Sass and Finkelstein 2016.
at the university. We engaged in two lines of investigation: multi-spectral imaging,

aimed at enhancing the reading of Iron Age ostraca,4 and algorithmic and forensic
methods aimed at identifying the number of writers in the ostraca corpora of Arad
in Judah and Samaria in Israel. In the latter sub-track we reached the conclusion that
ca. 600 BCE a large number of personnel at the fortress of Arad (and neighboring
sites) in the Beer-sheba Valley could read and write, and that scribal activity expanded
throughout the military system of Judah, down to the assistant to the quartermaster
in the fortress of Arad.5 To differ, the 31 Samaria ostraca which we examined, dated to
the early 8th century BCE, were probably written by two scribes; we could not reach
a clear conclusion whether this was due to administrative reasons, or if it was a reflec-
tion of an early phase in the development of scribal culture in the Northern Kingdom.6
These studies – cited below – are in the background of the current chapter, in which
I examine the origin and dissemination of writing in Judah against the background of
earlier developments in Israel and their influence on the South.
2. Introduction
Establishing the origins of scribal activity and the later dissemination of literacy in
Israel and Judah is essential for reconstructing the history of the two kingdoms and
tackling questions such as the historicity of the United Monarchy and the history of
composition of biblical texts. In the past, discussions of these issues were based on
information ostensibly provided by the biblical text, such as the reference to scribes
in the court of David and Solomon (e.g., 2 Sam 8:16). Needless to say, this is a circular
argument which can hardly be accepted in modern scholarship, as many of the nar-
ratives related to Davidʼs reign may represent centuries-later and even north-Israelite
realities.7 As for paleography, reaching conclusions on Israel and Judah based on anal-
ysis of all inscriptions from the southern Levant; both Proto-Canaanite and Hebrew;
and from good contexts or non-dateable contexts,8 can also be misleading.
Focusing on Judah, archaeology provides independent evidence on writing, man-
ifested in the relatively large number of ostraca found in Southern sites, especially
in the Negeb (the Beer-sheba Valley), as well as other media of writing. The latter
are incised pottery sherds (or vessels), seals, seal impressions, bullae and (the very
few) monumental inscriptions. In this case too, the archaeological record needs to
be interpreted critically regarding stratigraphic context and hence date of the finds.9
4 E.g., Sober et al. 2014; Mendel-Geberovich et al. 2017.

5 Faigenbaum-Golovin et al. 2016; Shaus et al. 2020.
6 Faigenbaum et al. 2020.
7 For the latter, e.g., Naʼaman 2017; Sergi 2017; Finkelstein 2020.
8 E.g., Lemaire 2015; Rollston 2017.
9 Two preliminary comments on the scope of the article are in place here: (1) I will deal only
with inscriptions which originated from excavations; all market items (except for the two Uzziah
2. The Appearance and Dissemination of Writing in Israel and Judah 27
Moreover, treating the entire corpus of inscriptions from Iron Age Judah (and else-
where) under one umbrella is a methodological error; it is clear that the production
of ostraca, for instance, reflects a higher level of literacy than inscribing oneʼs name
on an object.
Evidence for widespread dissemination of writing in Judah in the Iron IIC, in the
late 7th century BCE, is abundant. This is obvious from the sheer number of finds and
their distribution10 and from recent algorithmic and forensic studies on the number
of authors in the Arad ostraca.11 Writing in Judah, at least in administrative and royal
circles, is also evident in the late 8th century, as manifested by the Siloam inscription,12
the early LMLK seal impressions and “private” seal impressions on LMLK storage
jars.13 But what was the scope of writing at that time, for instance, in ink on ceramic
sherds (ostraca)? And what about the period before the late 8th century? I refer to the
early Iron IIB, in the first half of the 8th century, and to the late Iron IIA, in the 9th
and early 8th centuries. The latter is relatively well-recorded thanks to exposure of
layers such as Lachish IV and Beer-sheba V.14 The former is more difficult to isolate
but is now known from the destruction of Beth-shemesh 3 (renewed excavations),
radiocarbon-dated to ca. 765–745 BCE.15
The key site for dating these early phases of writing in Judah has conventionally
been Arad, with its corpus of Hebrew ostraca. Aharoni16 assigned one ostracon from
Arad (No. 81) to Stratum XII of the early Iron IIA in the late 10th to early 9th century
and four ostraca (Nos. 76–79) to Stratum XI of the late Iron IIA – in the case of Arad
in the second half of the 9th century (and/or the early 8th century BCE).17 These have
been considered as the earliest Hebrew inscriptions recorded in Judah. In addition,
Aharoni assigned 39 ostraca and incised inscriptions to Strata X–VIII of the Iron IIB
seals, as explained below) are excluded for reasons of authenticity (and in any event, they do
not come from dateable contexts). (2) Apart from a short comment on Moab, I am not dealing
here with appearance of writing in the Transjordanian kingdoms.
10 E.g., Aḥituv 2008; Naʼaman 2015.
11 Faigenbaum et al. 2016; Shaus et al. 2020.
12 Reich and Shukron (2011) suggested an earlier date for the Siloam Tunnel and thus the
Siloam inscription, in the early 8th century. I believe that the traditional date, in the very late
8th century BCE, should be maintained (Finkelstein 2013).
13 For the latter two, see Lipschits, Sergi, and Koch 2010.
14 For radiocarbon-established absolute chronology in the south, see Finkelstein and Pias-
etzky 2015.
16 Aharoni 1981.
17 Unstratified ostracon No. 80 was associated by Aharoni (1981, 100) with Stratum XI based
on paleographic considerations, but in the list at the end of the volume it is assigned to Stratum X
(ibid., 184). Note that only three or four letters are readable and that a similar yod appears in
several Level II Lachish inscriptions (Lemaire 2004, 2119).
in the second half of the 8th century – a large number which ostensibly point to wide-
spread writing.18
According to this broadly accepted order,19 writing in Judah is evident in 800 BCE
at the latest. Yet, several pieces of evidence seem to challenge this notion:
1. It is clear today that the use of the Proto-Canaanite script continued into the
9th century BCE.20 This is demonstrated by the Kfar Vradim inscription (found
with a late Iron IIA ceramic assemblage),21 the lingering Proto-Canaanite tradi-
tion in the short Megiddo inscription,22 and – most importantly for Judah – by
the Ophel inscription.23 Based on the form of the pithos on which it was in-
cised, the latter cannot date much before the middle of the 9th century BCE.24
This would mean that the latest evidence for the Proto-Canaanite script and the
earliest Hebrew script date to the same period.25
2. The latest Tell eṣ-Ṣafi/Gath inscriptions, including one painted, are well dated
to the late Iron IIA before the destruction of Gath by Hazael in the 830s,26 or
somewhat later, ca. 810 BCE.27 Their script can be described as “supra-regional”
cursive, before the appearance of Hebrew and other local scripts.28 This obser-
vation puts the Hebrew of Arad 76 automatically later than the late 9th cen-
tury BCE.
3. No Hebrew inscription – ink, incised or impressed – was found in any other
Iron IIA Judahite layer. Especially noteworthy are Beer-sheba V, Lachish V and
IV and Beth-shemesh 3.
4. Associating Ostraca 81 and 76–79 at Arad with Strata XII and XI respectively
means that Hebrew ink-writing is evident in Judah earlier than the far more
developed Israel, where the earliest such inscriptions date to the first half of the
8th century – the Samaria ostraca and the Kuntillet ʽAjrud inscriptions.
These observations call for a fresh look at the provenance of Arad Ostraca 76–79 and
81. In view of the meager number of ostraca and incised inscriptions found in all other
late 8th century Judahite sites (more below), the inscriptions assigned by Aharoni to
Strata X–VIII should also be carefully re-examined.
18 For the relative dates of the Arad layers, see Herzog and Singer-Avitz 2004, 231; Singer-
Avitz 2002; for absolute dates Herzog 2002, 14.
19 E.g., Naveh 1982, 66; Finkelstein and Sass 2013, 169; Naʼaman 2015; Sergi 2020.
20 Finkelstein and Sass 2013.
21 Alexandre 2002.
22 Sass and Finkelstein 2016.
23 For the find, see Mazar, Ben-Shlomo, and Aḥituv 2013.
24 Kleiman, in press.
25 For a full discussion of the date of these inscriptions, see Finkelstein and Sass 2013 (Kfar
Vradim and Ophel); Sass and Finkelstein 2016 (Megiddo).
26 Maeir 2012, 47–49.
27 Lipiński 2000, 386–387; Kleiman 2015.
28 Finkelstein and Sass, in press.
3. The Date of the “Early” Arad Inscriptions
3.1 Ostraca 76–79 and 81

To start with a general comment, Aharoniʼs stratigraphy of the fortress of Arad has
been challenged by many authorities.29 Among other issues relating to this old dig,
with ostensibly tight stratigraphy, note that no floors are marked on the plans pub-
lished by Herzog,30 and that activity in the Hellenistic period damaged the older
remains, sometimes in a significant way.31 It is clear, then, from the outset that Arad
cannot serve as an anchor for the archaeology and history of Judah.
Turning to the ostraca,32 No. 81, which was assigned by Aharoni to Stratum XII,
cannot be securely dated. It was found in Locus 432F, 70 cm higher than another locus
that was assigned to this layer, in an open space with no floor.33 Also note that the
excavation of Locus 432 commenced in the elevation of Stratum VIII or even higher.34
As for the four ostraca assigned to Stratum XI, No. 78 was found in Locus 778D,
located below the room that yielded the Eliashib seals and three other inscriptions
(Nos. 31–32 and 34). This context was affiliated by Mazar and Netzer with Stratum VI.35
Its excavation began, more or less, in the level of Stratum VIII (Locus 778A, 74.80 m).
No. 79 was discovered in an area disturbed by both the collapsed water cistern and
the northwestern corner of the Hellenistic tower.
It is clear then that attention should be given first and foremost to Ostracon 76 – the
longest (at least seven lines) with the largest number of letters (16 read by Aharoni)36
in this group – and to Arad 77 which was found in the same locus (Locus 949, Square
K/16). Stratigraphically, these inscriptions were found 30–35 cm above the lowest level
of Locus 949 (Square K/16, 73.00 m), which was assigned to Stratum XI. This is cer-
tainly not a secure location such as accumulation resting on a clearly identifiable floor.
Indeed, another inscription found in this locus (no. 74) was defined as unstratified.37
Therefore, these items cannot constitute the anchor for fixing the earliest evidence for
writing in Judah.
Additionally, looking at the photo and facsimile of Arad 76 in the original publi-
cation, it is obvious that Aharoni reconstructed some of the characters from vague
traces. This is true also when looking at the recently-taken multi-spectral images of
29 Yadin 1965; Mazar and Netzer 1986; Ussishkin 1988; Herzog 2002, 5, 7.
30 Herzog 2002.
31 E.g., Herzog 2002, 12–13.
32 See the detailed discussion of the stratigraphic affiliation of each item in Kleiman and
Finkelstein 2020.
33 Aharoni 1981, 184; Herzog 2002, Fig. 5.
34 Herzog 2002, Fig. 16.
35 Mazar and Netzer 1986, 87–87.
36 Aharoni 1981, 98–99.
37 Aharoni 1981, 97.
this inscription.38 Even the ṣade in Line 4 is not clear enough to be securely recon-
structed. Moreover, visible characters in Ostracon 76 do appear in Iron IIC Arad
inscriptions, e.g., the Qoph in Line 5 – the clearest letter in this inscription39 and the
zayin in Line 6, which apparently appears in Ostracon 17 of Stratum VI. The only
letter which looks old in Aharoniʼs facsimile is the mem, which appears twice (Lines
1 and 3). But: (a) the two are drawn from extremely eroded signs and are probably
reconstructed according to Aharoniʼs understanding of how a Stratum XI mem should
look; (b) a somewhat similar mem to the one drawn by Aharoni apparently appears
in Ostracon 13 of Stratum VI and Ostracon 60 which Aharoni assigned to Stratum IX
(late 8th century; more below). The latter was found in a nearby square (Locus 1036).
3.2 Inscriptions Assigned by Aharoni to Strata X–VIII

Thirty-nine inscriptions were assigned by Aharoni to Strata X–VIII of the Iron IIB,
which date to the second half of the 8th century BCE. Naʼaman accepted Aharoniʼs
stratigraphic affiliation of these inscriptions and explained the unique proliferation
of writing at Arad as representing the military role of the site.40 This is not a con-
vincing argument. First, no secure 8th century BCE ostracon was found at the fort
of Kadesh-barnea, located ca. 85 km north of the contemporary site of Kuntillet
ʽAjrud; the latter site, affiliated with the Northern Kingdom, yielded a large number
of inscriptions. Second, Tel ʽIra and Tel Malḥata certainly played an important role
in the administration and military affairs of Judah in the south (for ʽIra, see Ostracon
24 from Arad, accepting that this is the location of Ramath-negeb); they too did not
yield Iron IIB ostraca.
With no final and detailed report on the results of the excavations at Arad, it is
difficult to scrutinize the exact stratigraphic affiliation of Aharoniʼs Strata X–VIII
inscriptions. Still, a detailed study of the context of each and every item shows that
only four (!) of the 39 items – Nos. 45, 60, 87 and 90 – can perhaps be associated
with Strata IX and VIII.41 Note the case of Ostracon 40, assigned by Aharoni to
Stratum VIII,42 but probably belonging later, as it “shares with no. 24 of Stratum VI
its script, contents, and authorʼs name.”43 Further support for the dating of Arad 40
comes from the fact that the inscription was found 1.05 m above the lowest level of the
38 Naʼaman, in press.
39 Compare to table in Aharoni 1981, 133–134.
40 Naʼaman 2015.
41 Kleiman and Finkelstein 2020. In the Hebrew edition of Arad Inscriptions, Aharoni as-
signed incised Inscription 93 to Stratum XI in the text, but to Stratum IX in the list. In the
English edition both the text and the list put it in Stratum IX; indeed, the locus (841) appears in
Herzogʼs plan of Stratum IX (2002, 15).
42 Aharoni 1981, 74.
43 Naʼaman 2003; 2015, 50; Dobbs-Allsopp et al. 2005, 69–70.
locus with which it was associated.44 Locus 469, in which Nos. 50–52, were found, was
reassigned by Herzog to Stratum VII,45 meaning that their association with Stratum VI
cannot be excluded. Also to be noted is the fact that other late 8th century layers in the
Beer-sheba Valley did not yield ostraca; the only exception is Stratum II at Beer-sheba,
with two finds (more below).
To summarize the discussion on Arad for the appearance of ostraca in Judah in the
late 8th century (two from Beer-sheba and two seemingly from Lachish – below), it is
possible that a few Arad ostraca also originated from Strata X–VIII, though with the
data at hand this cannot be proven.
The inevitable conclusion from the above discussion is that Arad cannot serve as a
basis for discussing the emergence of Hebrew writing (and literacy) in Judah.
4. Ostraca from Other Sites
Having dismissed the affiliation of Ostraca 81 and 76–79 with Arad XII–XI, and noting
the problematic nature of the stratigraphy of Arad also for the Strata X–VIII items, for
pre-7th century layers we are left only with Stratum II at Beer-sheba. Naʼaman lists
three ostraca with this layer, noting that “Stratum II was destroyed by the Assyrians
in about 701 BCE and following that destruction, it was abandoned for hundreds
of years.”46 Yet, the recently published final report of the excavations at Beer-sheba
sheds different light on this matter. Herzog notes that after the destruction of the city
of Stratum II “the site was resettled, apparently as a local undertaking by what seems
to have been a private rather than state initiative … the project was never completed
and the settlers moved away. This endeavor may have lasted between a few months to
a year or two at most.”47 This activity, listed as Stratum I, is also described as squat-
ters settling into the ruins of Stratum II.48 The pottery repertoire49 indeed lacks the
typical forms of the Iron IIC, such as lamps with high base, holemouth jars with
horizontal flat rims and cooking pots with grooved everted rim. Yet, today we know
that the Iron IIB/IIC transition took place in the first half of the 7th century, if not in
the middle of that century,50 meaning that the Stratum I squatters activity could have
lasted well into the first half of the 7th century. Having said this, we need to look more
carefully at the three ostraca from Tel Beer-sheba.51
44 Compare the elevations in Aharoni 1981, 182 with those which appear in Herzog 2002,
Fig. 16.
45 Herzog 2002, Fig. 17.
46 Naʼaman 2015, 59.
47 Herzog 2016, 26; see also Singer-Avitz 2016, 658.
48 Herzog 2016, table on p. 29.
49 Singer-Avitz 2016.
50 Finkelstein 2012; this is the essence of Lipschits, Sergi, and Koch 2010.
51 Aharoni 1971.
There is no reason to doubt the stratigraphic affiliation of Beer-sheba Ostracon 1

to Stratum II, as it was found in an exterior hall of one of the store houses.52 Ostracon
3 also seems to come from a secure Stratum II context.53 But Ostracon 2, found in a
“robbers trench of the casemate wall,”54 may belong to the Stratum I activity, in the
early 7th century.
Outside of the Beer-sheba Valley, Lachish is the most important site to look at. As
is well-known, a large number of ostraca were retrieved from Level II there, dated to
the late 7th century.55 At least for the three first expeditions (Starkeyʼs, Aharoniʼs and
Ussishkinʼs), only two ostraca should be discussed in relation to Level III:56
1. No. XXIII was found “in Podium A of the Judean Palace-Fort … in the Level IV
constructional fill, or what is more likely Level III debris from Palace C, eroded
since the British dig.”57
2. No. XXXIII.58 This item came from the courtyard in front of the gate,59 which
is less than an ideal (that is, stratigraphically secure) context, especially noting
that the Level II Lachish gate ostraca were found only 15 m away from this spot.
An ostracon recently found at Hebron was dated to the end of the 8th century,60
though the stratigraphic description speaks about Iron IIB–C pottery in this context.61
It is especially noteworthy that all ostraca found in Jerusalem came from 7th
century contexts62 or from unstratified loci.63 No ostracon was uncovered in an 8th
century context, that is, in Shilohʼs Stratum 12.
To summarize this point, of the ca. 200 ostraca known from Judah,64 almost all
originated from 7th century (mainly late 7th century) contexts; only two to four
ostraca (at Tel Beer-sheba and possibly Lachish) can be securely dated to the late 8th
century BCE. The ratio is more balanced for the incised inscriptions (more below).
52 Ibid., 1971, 71.

53 Ibid., 74.
54 Ibid., 73.
55 Lemaire 2004.
56 A third ostracon, No. XXXIV, “was found in Area GW, Level IV …. [A]s this part of the
outer gate is largely eroded in later periods the ostracon may well be a stray find from a later
level” (Lemaire 2004, 2129).
57 Lemaire 2004, 2116–2117.
58 Ibid., 2128–2129.
59 Ussishkin 2004, 566.
60 Vainstub and Ben-Shlomo 2016, 158.
61 Ibid., 153–155 (“Phase 7 fill” in Vainstub 2017); phase 7 dated to the Iron IIB–C (Ben-
Shlomo and Eisenberg 2017, 14).
62 Stratum 10, e.g., Naveh 2000.
63 E.g., Lemaire 1978.
64 Including Edomite ostraca from the territory of Judah.
5. Other Pieces of Evidence to Consider
The following are additional points pertinent to the discussion on the emergence of
literacy in Judah:
1. The well-stratified and intensively excavated late Iron IIA Judahite sites of La-
chish IV, Beer-sheba V and Beth-shemesh 3 (which was probably established
in that period) yielded no inscriptions – ink or incised. This is also true for the
contemporary Stratum 14 in the “City of David” in Jerusalem. The three Samuʽ
(Eshtemoa) jugs with the ink inscription ḥmš on each came from an unstrati-
fied context.65 Typologically, the jugs date to either the Iron IIA or Iron IIB.66
2. No. 1 is especially noteworthy in view of the relatively large number of inscrip-
tions which originated from the contemporary, nearby Iron IIA layers at Tell
eṣ-Ṣafi/Gath and the countryside towns in its territory.67
3. The earliest Hebrew inscriptions from Judah68 – the only securely dated Juda-
hite Hebrew inscriptions which predate the last third of the 8th century BCE –
are the two Uzziah seals purchased in the market in the late 19th century.69 The
early date of their acquisition seems to eliminate the possibility of forgery. The
yau component in the names of the two officials (Shebanyau, Abiyau) and the
king (Uzziyau) hint at North Israelite influence – perhaps these administrators
were Israelites who served in Judah in a period of domination of Israel over
the Southern Kingdom (more below). In this connection note that the only
other cotemporary inscribed seal (or inscribed seal impression) is the Northern
Shema Servant of Jeroboam item from Megiddo.
4. Based on his analysis of the Arad finds (and accepting Aharoniʼs affiliation of
finds to Strata X–VIII), Naʼaman (2015) theorized that in the Negeb short in-
cised inscriptions are more prevalent in 8th century strata, while ostraca are
numerous in the late 7th century layers.70 If many of these Arad finds in fact date
to later strata than their original affiliation, the balance somewhat changes: in
the Negeb, 13 incised inscriptions originated from stratigraphically secure late
8th century layers versus four from 7th century layers, to which some of the
above-mentioned Arad items should be added. At Lachish only one item was
retrieved from Level III.71
65 Yeivin 1990.
66 For this, see Kletter and Brand 1998.
67 Maeir and Eshel 2014; Finkelstein and Sass, in press.
68 We are not dealing here with the Proto-Canaanite Ophel inscription (Mazar, Ben-Shlomo,
and Aḥituv 2013). This unique find can hardly shed light on literacy in Judah. Among other rea-
sons, though petrographic investigation pointed to its origin in the highlands, the exact location
where it was made cannot be verified.
69 Avigad and Sass 1997, 50–51.
70 Naʼaman 2015.
71 And two from Level II, see Lemaire 2004.
5. The LMLK administrative system appears in the late 8th century BCE; in-
scribed “private” seal impressions appear on the early (pre-701 BCE) LMLK
storage jars.72
6. In addition to the evidence from Level III at Lachish, which was intensively
excavated and which produced only two possible ostraca and one incised in-
scription,73 attention should be given to two other intensively excavated Juda-
hite sites in the Shephelah. Beth-shemesh (the mound), which was destroyed
in 701 BCE, produced a single inscribed bowl from a late 8th century context.74
Tell Beit Mirsim, which was destroyed in 701 BCE and apparently resettled for
a short while in the early 7th century,75 yielded five incised inscriptions from
Stratum A.76 Both these sites did not produce ostraca.
7. The uninscribed, iconic bullae form the area of the Gihon spring77 are dated
according to the pottery found with them to the late Iron IIA or Iron IIB,78 that
is, to the late 9th or 8th century BCE. Uninscribed bullae from the “Ophel”
excavations are given the same time-range.79 Inscribed bullae appear in Judah
in large numbers in Iron IIC layers, that is, starting around the middle of the
7th century.80 A bulla from Lachish81 was found in a Level III room;82 this is in
line with the appearance of inscribed “private” seal impressions on the LMLK
jars.
8. Plaster inscriptions – theorized to portray the existence of writing on papyri83 –
appear in Israel in the first half of the 8th century – at Tell Deir ʽAlla and Kuntil-
let ʽAjrud. Such inscriptions are very rare; still, it is noteworthy that no plaster
inscription is known in Judah, despite the large scale excavations at many sites
in the arid Beer-sheba Valley. Most of these excavations were carried out after
the discoveries at Kuntillet ʽAjrud, so there must already have been awareness
of the need to look for such finds – in situ or in small pieces in the debris.
Table 2.1 summarizes the data for Judah.
72 Lipschits, Sergi, and Koch 2010.

73 No. XXI-A, Lemaire 2004, 2114.
74 Manor 2016.
75 Finkelstein and Naʼaman 2004.
76 Albright 1930–1931, 77; pictures in Albright 1941–1943, Pl. 60.
77 Reich, Shukron, and Lernau 2007.
78 De Groot and Fadida 2011; Singer-Avitz 2012 respectively.
79 Keel 2015.
80 Aharoni 1975, 19–22; Avigad 1986; Avigad and Sass 1997, 167–241; Shoham 2000; Mazar and
Livyatan Ben-Arie 2015; see the latest summary in Mendel-Geberovich, Chalaf and Uziel 2020.
81 Avigad and Sass 1997, 199, No. 498.
82 Tufnell 1953, 348.
83 Lemaire 1985, 275, 284.
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"Temporising won't go down with Sir Ross," Mrs. Sinclair said shortly;
"I know him too well to try that on. It must be 'yes' or 'no' with him. It can't
be 'yes,' and as he will want all sorts of explanations if it's 'no,' I shall get
out of the difficulty by not being at home to him. If he writes, I will consult
you."
Melville was annoyed, for with his aunt feloniously intermarried with
Sir Ross Buchanan, her former husband being still alive, he would have
been sure of a substantial revenue; he wished he had been a little less
emphatic in his explanation of the law of bigamy, and he was vexed with
himself for having made any mistake in his game.
"You're not such a clever woman as I take you for," he said, "if you can't
manage Sir Ross better than that. Take my advice, and go slow. That's good
advice ninety-nine times out of a hundred, and better advice the hundredth."
Mrs. Sinclair shook her head.
"It's no good, Melville," she said gently. "I've done harm enough as it is
—wilfully, if you like, as a child, ignorantly as a woman. But I've got a
conscience left, and I'm not going to do any more harm deliberately; and I
don't intend to play fast and loose with one man on the chance of another
man dying. I mean what I say. Now that you have explained what my
engagement to Sir Ross Buchanan amounts to, it is 'o double f'; and now,
don't let us talk about it any more."
She got up and began to pack up the luncheon basket. Melville got up,
too, and busied himself about the boat, rearranging the cushions and getting
things ready for their further journey up to Fairbridge. In reality, he was not
a little disconcerted by the way his plans with regard to Mrs. Sinclair
threatened to be upset, and he was piqued to think that he had not read her
character correctly. Conscience was the last complication he had expected
to run up against, but he was forced to recognise its existence in this most
unlikely quarter. Well! it rendered his visit to Sir Geoffrey all the more
necessary; if supplies were not to be forthcoming from the one quarter, they
must be doubled from the other.
He stowed the hamper in the boat, and helped Mrs. Sinclair back into
her seat.
"I'm quite sorry to leave this shady nook, for it's getting hotter every
minute, but I must get on to Fairbridge now. Are you ready to go?"
"Quite," she answered, and Melville proceeded to back the boat down
the creek, pulling it along with the boat-hook and by the help of the
overhanging branches of the trees. In the main stream he got out the sculls
and paused a minute before setting to work again.
"I shouldn't be surprised if there were a storm," he remarked; "have you

any cloak or mackintosh with you?"
"No," said Lavender anxiously, "and my frock's a fair weather one. Oh!
don't say it's going to rain."
"I won't, if you think that will make any difference," said Melville with
a smile, and he began to row again.
There was no doubt, however, that a storm was brewing, although it was
possible that it might break elsewhere; low down on the horizon the sky
was inky black, merging through indescribable gradations of shade into a
lurid coppery glare overhead; the breathless heat was oppressive, and
Melville was bathed in perspiration before they had travelled a hundred
yards.
"The sky is sitting on the top of my head," Mrs. Sinclair complained.

"Isn't there any inn or cottage where we can put up, and where I can wait
while you are with Sir Geoffrey?"
"I'm afraid there isn't," Melville answered, "but perhaps the storm will
pass us by. That often happens on the river."
"Fancy having the river so entirely to ourselves," she said presently. "I
don't think a single boat has passed us since we started, and I know we
haven't met any."
"That is because of the regatta at Longbridge," Melville explained. "If I
had known about it we might have gone there to-day and I could have seen
Sir Geoffrey to-morrow; but, personally, I've enjoyed what we have done
immensely."
As a matter of fact, he had heard of the Longbridge regatta with

considerable relief, for it removed most of the probability of his being seen
with Mrs. Sinclair by either Ralph or Gwendolen. Sir Geoffrey, too, was
still fond of boating, and might quite possibly have seen them, which would
have been nothing short of a disaster. As it was, both Ralph and Gwendolen
would certainly be present at the regatta, perhaps competing in some of the
events, and Sir Geoffrey, if he were upon the water at all, would be there as
well. Nothing was happening to shake Melville's faith in his star.
The intense atmospheric oppression was beginning to tell upon Mrs.

Sinclair, who relapsed into complete silence. Varying emotions were
conflicting in her mind as she drew near the Manor House, of which she
might have been the mistress, but which she dared not enter now. After the
lapse of so many years she felt some remorse at the thought of how she had
spoiled Sir Geoffrey's life, and she would have liked to be able to convey
some message to him telling him she was sorry. But fear stood between her
and confession, as it so often stands, and sealed her lips until it was too late.
Presently Melville drew the boat into the bank.
"There is the Manor House garden, behind those trees," he said,

pointing to a row of splendid elms some hundred, yards ahead. "If you don't
mind, I'll leave you here under this great willow. I'll fasten the boat so that it
can't drift away, and you won't get wet, even if it does come on to rain."
He tied the boat up, bow and stern, with the painter and rudder-lines,
and gave her the boathook to grapple to the twisted roots of the willow if
she felt uneasy. She thanked him with a smile.
"Don't be longer than you can help, will you?"
"Not a minute longer," he replied, and turned to leave her. As he stepped

ashore he felt for the first time that day a pang of anxiety at the risk he was
running in bringing her so close to the husband whom they had both
wronged so much. He hesitated, and looked at her searchingly.
"You will wait for me here, Lavender, won't you? You won't——"
"I will wait here all right," she answered, and Melville forced his way
through the bushes that screened the meadows from the stream, and was
lost to view.
CHAPTER XIII.
MURDER.
Sheltered by the leafy elms which Melville had pointed out to Lavender
was an oblong inlet from the river, artificially constructed by Sir Geoffrey
Holt to serve as a private bathing-place and as a landing-stage for the
Manor House grounds. Here he had built a chalet in an ornate Swiss style,
one half being devoted to the boats, the other containing two large sitting-
rooms. The end room, which overlooked the creek on one side, the river on
another, and the garden on a third, and which was surrounded on these three
sides by a wide verandah, was a favourite resort of Sir Geoffrey's, and it
was here that Melville hoped to find him this afternoon; if things went
badly with him and the interview proved to be very quarrelsome, he would
prefer to have it away from the house, where they would be less likely to be
overheard.
His mind was quite made up. He knew that Lavender had been in
earnest when she said she would not marry Sir Ross Buchanan, and he was
mad with himself for having stood in his own light by preventing the
marriage; had that been accomplished he could have drawn upon her
jointure to a pretty tune. He knew, too, that Sir Geoffrey would not give him
any more money for his wife so soon; it only remained for him to extort a
payment on account for holding his tongue. His errand was blackmail, and
it might not be an easy task to levy it. But he was determined to get money
to-day, cost what it might.
Money! Never had false god so devout a worshipper, never had mistress
so ardent a wooer as money had in Melville Ashley. He loved it; but as the
spendthrift, not the miser. To scatter it broadcast with both hands was life to
him, and he recked not how he came by it so that he had it in unfailing
abundance; it meant gaiety and excitement and irresponsibility, music and
wine and cards—everything that he summed up in the comprehensive name
of pleasure. Honour and self-respect were a small price to pay for money
which, in his opinion, could not cost too much. What was blackmail, after
all? While Sir Geoffrey had a shilling left and desired the story of his
marriage to remain untold, Melville would demand the shilling or trumpet
forth the news for the delectation of a scandal-loving world.
And if Sir Geoffrey refused and bid him do his utmost? Where would
the money come from then? The question framed itself in Melville's
thoughts, and his brow darkened, but he dismissed it carelessly again, for as
yet Sir Geoffrey seemed inclined to prefer being robbed to being exposed.
Melville gained the grounds and turned down towards the chalet. His
rubber-soled canvas shoes were noiseless on the well-rolled paths, and he
walked briskly into the boat-house, of which the wooden doors stood open.
It was empty—punt and dinghy, pair-oar and canoe, all were gone.
Evidently Sir Geoffrey, with customary good-nature, had allowed most of
the servants to share in the amusement afforded by the regatta, and until
dinner-time the Manor House would be in charge of some of the
kitchenmaids. So much the better, if there was to be a quarrel in the house.
But was Sir Geoffrey in the house, or was he here in the garden-room?
Melville walked along the verandah, treading softly. Overhead, the lurid
sky grew more lurid, the still oppression more still and oppressive. A great
drop of rain fell on the asphalte boat-slide, making a mark as big as a
shilling; another fell, and, after an interval, another; the storm was going to
break upon him, and he must hasten upon his business.
Through the window he caught sight of Sir Geoffrey sitting in a low
wicker chair, with an illustrated paper in his hand. Melville's lips tightened
as he marked the figure of his uncle, so unconscious of the presence of
another person, so attuned to the atmosphere of this rich home of his. Sir
Geoffrey's back was towards him, and Melville, with some idea of the
fitness of making his entrance from the front, so to speak, walked quickly
round the verandah, and, flinging open the French windows with both
hands, stepped into the room. For a second the two men eyed each other,
and then Sir Geoffrey spoke in a tone of studied evenness.
"So it is you, Melville. Have you come down for the regatta?"
"No," said Melville bluntly. "I want to see you."
Sir Geoffrey picked up the paper again and affected to be more

interested in it than in the conversation.
"Want to see me, do you? On business?"
"Yes; on business," Melville answered, a little nettled by his uncle's

nonchalance.
"Ah!" said Sir Geoffrey, and paused. "Whose business is it this time?"
he enquired presently. "Are you principal or agent on this occasion?"
His affectation of being rather bored by the whole thing emphasised the
affront and brought the blood to Melville's cheek.
"Principal," he replied laconically, and, unasked, sat down.
"That simplifies the issue," said Sir Geoffrey, laying down one paper
and picking up another. "Go on, man; say what you want. You are not
usually lacking in effrontery."
Melville was always conscious of his own meanness when he was in his
uncle's presence, always found it difficult to face the steady eyes and honest
scorn of the old man; it was characteristic of him, too, that he always felt at
a disadvantage unless in a struggle of wits he was able to make his
opponent, whoever he might be, lose his temper first, and he could seldom
do this with Sir Geoffrey. He grew hot and angry now under the lash of the
bitter sarcasm in the coldly spoken words, but they had the effect of
bringing him to the point.
"I've come down again for some money," he said coarsely.
"What is the lie to-day?" Sir Geoffrey enquired. "Has Ralph been
tapping you again? Don't strain your imagination too much."
"I won't," said Melville. "I want some more money for myself, and I
think you will give it me."
"I shall do nothing of the kind," said Sir Geoffrey; "you presume too
much." He closed his lips with a snap, but as Melville did not reply at once,
he went on in the same even tone that exasperated his nephew so intensely.
"I tell you what I will do, Melville, if you like. After all, if I am to pay the
piper I have some right to suggest the tune. I will give you an allowance on
condition that you stop away altogether."
"How do you mean?" said Melville.
"Give you an allowance to be drawn by yourself at regular intervals, so

that you will be spared the trouble of making these irregular applications."
Melville was completely deceived by the way his uncle spoke. He

considered the proposal seriously, as he believed it to be made.
"How much will you make it?"
"Ten pounds a month, to be drawn in person at, say, Botany Bay," said
Sir Geoffrey, looking at him over the top of the paper.
Melville was furious, and only kept control over himself by an effort.
"You are pleased to be facetious," he replied, "but I warn you I am not

in the mood to enjoy a joke to-day. Fortunately, I am in a position to suggest
terms as well. I know something which you want kept dark. Having seen
the lady, I'm not surprised at your desire to suppress the fact of her
existence, for she is not an ideal ornament for the head of your table. I will
accept a hundred and twenty pounds now, and hold my tongue about her
while that lasts."
Sir Geoffrey betrayed no anger.
"Blackmail?" he said enquiringly.
"Yes," said Melville. "The word is of your own choosing. Indeed, I'm
indebted to you for putting the idea into my head. But a man who holds his
tongue when it would pay him to talk may not be a blackmailer, but is most
certainly a fool."
"You are not a fool," said Sir Geoffrey, "but you are a knave. Now, since
I last had the misfortune of seeing you I've had time to think, and the result
of my meditation may be of interest to you. Do you wish me to speak
plainly?"
"Pray do."
"Well," said Sir Geoffrey, "when you first told me that Lady Holt was
alive I confess I was very much surprised. I believed she had died years
before; I don't know what she may have said to you, but it is the fact that
the marriage was unhappy. Nobody about here had ever heard of it, and I
wanted to save myself from being a topic of common gossip. What did I
do? I accepted your story, and gave you some money to relieve her from the
immediate distress in which you allege you found her. I suppose she
received that sum?"
"Of course she did," said Melville.
"You know I distrust you entirely," Sir Geoffrey proceeded. "I had—still
have—my doubts about your story, and I saw at once that you intended to
convert my natural wish to avoid a scandal into money for yourself. Now I
have resolved on my policy; I ought to have resolved on it at first. If Lady
Holt needs permanent assistance, she must apply to Mr. Tracy, who will
have my instructions. Tell her that from me. She is my wife, and she need
have no fear in applying to her husband or his solicitor. But she will never
have another farthing from me through you. I don't trust you; and if I did, I
still should not employ you in this matter. And as for the blackmail,
Melville, you have made a mistake in your calculations. I don't intend to be
blackmailed."
"You don't mind your marriage becoming known?"
"I won't pay you to keep it secret," said Sir Geoffrey proudly. "The
marriage was a failure, but it was a marriage, and I have nothing to be
ashamed of in it. I was a fool to hesitate when you were down here last, but
now I hesitate no more. I don't care what you do. Talk if you like. Sell the
news to The Fairbridge Mercury for half-a-crown, if you can; I won't give
you five shillings to suppress it. And now, sir, go!"
His passion had been steadily rising, and as he shouted out the last word
the old man jumped up from his chair and with outstretched arm pointed to
the window. It was getting very dark, and suddenly the threatening storm
burst in a torrent of heavy rain; it rattled on the zinc roof of the verandah
with the noise of musketry, leaping up from the asphalte in white sheets and
flooding all the gullies; then a blinding flash of lightning seemed to fill the
room, and Melville sank back in his chair, hiding his eyes and waiting for
the thunder, which swiftly followed like a roar of artillery. When the crash
died away, Melville rose and faced his uncle, who had not moved a muscle.
"It's to be war between us?" he said.
Sir Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't fight with blackguards," he answered. "Do your worst; do what
you please—but go."
Melville knew that he had lost; his second castle in the air was shattered
and he could not hope to build it up again. Mrs. Sinclair had destroyed the
first, Sir Geoffrey had destroyed the second, and Melville was once more
face to face with ruin. Outside the wind had risen and the hail was beating
into the room, streaming down the windows and blurring all the view. In
horrible succession flash of lightning followed flash of lightning,
silhouetting everything in the room for an instant before darkness, made
more horrible by the deafening crashes of thunder, engulfed it all again.
And swift as the lightning that blazed and then was gone, thoughts and
schemes shot through Melville's brain. If only Sir Geoffrey were dead,
struck by the jagged blades of flame that tore down from the storm-centre in
the sky above them, everything would be well. He had made no will—he
had said so—and if only he were dead there would be salvation for Melville
—salvation in the share of his uncle's money which the law would give
him.
Sir Geoffrey strode towards him.
"Storm or no storm," he shouted, striving to make himself heard above

the din of wind and hail and thunder, "go. I disown you for the liar and
swindler and blackmailer that you are. Not one shilling more shall you ever
have whether for my wife or for yourself. Go!"
He seized Melville by the shoulder, and in an instant the men were

locked together. Melville was taken by surprise, and even if he had not been
he was not more than a match for his uncle, in spite of the difference in
their ages. For one brief moment they swayed together, Sir Geoffrey
wrestling to throw his nephew out, Melville wrestling to free himself from
his uncle's grasp. Another roar of thunder shook the chalet, and even as it
did so, the end came. Melville, twisted backwards by his uncle's weight, felt
the pistol that he always carried hurt his side. Mad with passion he freed
one hand somehow and struggled half an arm's length from the elder man.
Before the thunder had fairly died away there was a barking report, a film
of smoke rose between the swaying figures, and Sir Geoffrey threw up his
arms and dropped. A smell of singed cloth seemed to fill the room, and on
the white front of the old man's flannel shirt there was a burnt stain. Sir
Geoffrey Holt was dead—shot at close quarters through the heart.
As Sir Geoffrey fell a sharp scream rang outside, and Melville, with
wildly beating heart, looked across the room to the window through which
he had caught sight of his uncle. A woman was clinging to one of the iron
pillars that supported the verandah, and in the half-fainting form Melville
recognised Lavender Sinclair.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FINDING OF THE BODY.
Scared by the fearful intensity of the storm, all the people flocked away
from Longbridge regatta, those who could manage to find room there
hurrying in to the single inn the place possessed, while, of those who could
not, some invaded the houseboats along the bank, and others, more bold,
and in reality more wise, made the best of a bad business and started for
home. Among these last were Ralph and Gwendolen. He wrapped her up as
well as circumstances allowed, and then, cramming his cap upon his head
and seizing his punt pole, began to work for all he was worth. Gwendolen
did not speak. She was not a little frightened by the lightning, which
appeared to flash backwards and forwards between the earth and sky, and
there seemed every chance that the racing punt in which they were would
be swamped; not that she could have got much wetter if it were; the rain
was thrashing the river and flooding the punt and she was already drenched
to the skin, but, at any rate, she was speeding towards shelter and dry
clothes.
Behind her Ralph was straining every nerve. His thin cashmere shirt
clinging damply to him showed every muscle on his chest and shoulders,
and his arms, bare to the elbows, shone with the wet, the sinews standing
out like cords. He, too, was nervous on her account, and breathed a prayer
of gratitude as after each blinding shaft of lightning he found her still
unhurt. With set jaws and stern eyes he used all his skill and strength, taking
advantage of his thorough knowledge of the river to find the best course for
the punt, and listening with a grim satisfaction to the water slapping
underneath his feet.
He must have covered the three miles from Longbridge in record time,
and of the crowd of boats that hurried down the stream but few succeeded
in outstripping him. As he came to the Manor House he shot the punt
dexterously alongside of his houseboat, and, jumping on to it, helped
Gwendolen to alight.
"Don't be afraid, dear," he shouted, making himself heard with difficulty
against a crashing peal of thunder; "run home and change your things at
once."
"And you?" she called back to him.
"I will take the punt into the boathouse and wait there. I have plenty of
dry things in the dressing-room. I'll change and come up when the storm is
over."
He handed her down the gangway, and stood for a moment watching her
as she sped across the lawn. Once at The Grange he knew she would be all
right; a fond mother and devoted servants would have prepared a cheerful
fire and warm garments for her as soon as they saw the persistency of the
rain, and afternoon tea would soon restore her equanimity. Then he got back
into the punt and took it round the bend into the creek.
He stepped ashore and, laying the soaked cushions under the shelter of
the verandah, tipped up the punt to empty it of the water it had shipped,
drew it up into the boat-house, and went into the dressing-room. It was a
well-appointed place, with every convenience for men who take their
boating seriously. In one corner stood a shower bath, and against it a full-
size bath supplied with hot water by a lightning geyser. Divesting himself of
his dripping flannels, he lighted the lamp in the geyser and employed the
few minutes intervening before it should get warm by rubbing himself
down. Then he had a bath, followed by a cold douche, and again rubbed
himself with rough towels until he glowed with warmth. From a big press in
another corner he took a clean shirt and socks and a spotless suit of flannels,
and, finally, feeling splendidly fit and comfortable, turned towards the inner
room, meaning to have a cigarette and some spirits, and wait there until the
fury of the tempest should abate.
"Suppose Sir Geoffrey was here when the storm broke," he thought, as
he saw the open windows, "and thought he would be safer in the house. It
was careless of him not to shut the windows; those curtains are simply
drenched!"
He closed the window overlooking the creek and turned to cross to
those that opened on to the grounds, but as he walked round the table that
filled the centre of the room a cry rang from his lips, for prone upon the
floor Sir Geoffrey lay, and something in the utter helplessness of the posture
of the body told Ralph that he was dead.
"Good God!" he cried, and in an instant dropped on his knees by the

side of the still figure, conquering by an immense effort a feeling of positive
repugnance against touching death. He felt his uncle's wrist to see if he
could detect a pulse, and uttered another exclamation of horror when, on
letting go the dead hand, it dropped with a thud upon the floor.
"Uncle Geoffrey!" he called; "Uncle Geoffrey!" but no answer came;

there was not a quiver in the lids that bagged over the already glazing eyes.
Perhaps it was his own lack of skill that prevented him from feeling the
pulse; there could scarcely be any room for doubt if he felt the heart. Sir
Geoffrey was lying on his left side, and Ralph rolled the body on to its back
and unfastened the flannel collar. Again the horror of it all shook him, and
he turned his head aside as he slipped his hand inside his uncle's shirt. The
body was quite warm, and Ralph's pluck was returning with his hope, when
his fingers fell upon the little wound and became sticky with blood; in a
frenzy of terror he tore open the shirt and forced himself to look. A sob
shook his whole frame.
"It is murder! it is murder! Dear God, don't let him be dead!" but the
singed flannel, the tiny hole in the centre of a ring of scorched flesh, and the
absence of blood in any quantity, told a tale he could not but believe. Yet he
must try to recall some glimmer of consciousness before he could leave the
old man alone. He poured some brandy into a tumbler, and raising Sir
Geoffrey's head put a little into the mouth that lolled open and gave the face
an almost idiotic expression; but the brandy merely dribbled out from the
corners of the lips, and there was no sign of meaning in the eyes. Not
knowing what else to do, Ralph raised Sir Geoffrey's body to lay it on the
bamboo couch, but, strong as he was, he only did it with the utmost
difficulty, and in making the effort he smeared his sleeves and breast with
blood.
"What can I do?" he kept on muttering, and yet, oddly enough, the idea
of rushing to the house and sending for the nearest doctor never entered his
mind. In a hopeless, incapable way he stared about him, wondering what
else he could do to recall the life he yet felt sure had flown, and then,
draining the tumbler which he had partly filled, he closed the French
windows and went back to his dressing-room. He took off his blood-stained
jacket and flung it down by the press, washed the blood from his hands, and
found another coat; and then, locking the boat-house door, rushed out into
the verandah, and so into the garden, and stumbled to the house.
Going into the library he rang the bell, and strode impatiently up and
down until a servant came.
"Where is Martin? I want Martin. Send Martin here at once," he said

rapidly to the maid who, to his surprise, appeared in place of the old butler.
She stared at him in astonishment and some dismay, for he was white as
death himself, and all his wonted quietness of manner was gone.
"He's only just got back from Longbridge, sir," the maid replied, "and
he's in his room changing his clothes; they've all got dripping wet."
"Tell him I want him at once—at once," said Ralph, and, eyeing him
curiously, the girl hurried downstairs.
"Mr. Ralph wants you in the library directly minute," she called to
Martin through his door. "He's rarely put out about something. Gracious!
there's the bell again."
"Say I'll be up in a minute," Martin called back.
"But I daren't go back," the servant said. "I'm sure something terrible's
the matter. He looks as white as white, and spoke to me as never was."
Martin would have delivered himself of a kindly admonition to the girl

to mend her manner of speech, but yet another peal of the bell convinced
him that something was indeed amiss, and giving a tug at his tie to make it
assume some semblance of a bow, he hurried out of his bedroom and up the
stairs, putting on his coat and waistcoat as he went.
"Beg your pardon, Mr. Ralph, for keeping you waiting," he began, but a
glance at Ralph's face checked the apologies. "What is the matter, sir? Has
there been an accident? Miss Gwendolen——?"
"It's Sir Geoffrey," Ralph replied, hoarsely.
"Not dead?" the butler cried, stepping forward with outstretched hands.
"Yes, dead," answered Ralph. "Murdered, foully murdered in his own

home."
Martin reeled against the writing table and stared in horror at Ralph.
Ralph, in his turn, gave way, and leaning his arm upon the mantelpiece hid
his face and ground his teeth to keep back the tears. So they remained in
silence, while the tall clock hammered out the seconds of the time that for
its owner had ceased to be.
"Where?" whispered Martin.
Ralph jerked his head in motion to the window.
"In the boathouse," he said.
He seemed incapable of doing anything practical, and Martin rose to the

occasion.
"You are sure it is—all over? Quite sure that he is dead?"
"Someone has shot him through the heart," said Ralph, in cold and
measured tones.
Martin wiped his eyes.
"Perhaps there is a chance. God grant there may be! Will you run for the
doctor, sir, while I go down to him? I'll just tell the housekeeper to get Sir
Geoffrey's room in order and have the young servants out of the way, and
I'll be at the boathouse with some of the men to carry him home. The poor
master!"
Ralph did as he was bid, glad to accept a subordinate place, and Martin,
with tears running down his cheeks, hastened to give his instructions to the
housekeeper. Then, taking some cushions from the servants' hall, he hurried
into the stables to summon help; a couple of long shutters were procured to
serve as a litter presently, and in a few minutes the group of awestruck men
reached the scene of the tragedy.
It was while they were waiting for Ralph to come with the doctor and
bring the key of the boathouse that the necessity of calling in the police
occurred to Martin.
"Run up to the police-station," he said to one of the stable boys, "and

ask the inspector to come down with you sharp. Whether Sir Geoffrey is
dead or not we won't lose any time in putting the police on the scoundrel's
track. Go straight up and come straight back, and don't get talking to
anybody else. We don't want all the town swarming down here."
The storm was dying. Rain still fell and thunder still rumbled in the
distance, but the heavy atmospheric oppression was gone, and bird life was
beginning to make itself audible again. In silence the men waited under the
verandah for the doctor, from whose advent they still hoped for some relief.
Presently he came, grave and with lips compressed, for he knew and loved
Sir Geoffrey. Ralph came, too, even more haggard than before, and
unlocking the door led the way into the inner room. But although the doctor
seemed to the bystanders, in their anxiety, to take a long time over his
examination, the first glance had in reality been enough to satisfy his
trained eye that Sir Geoffrey was beyond all human aid. As he turned to
Ralph and sorrowfully shook his head, the police superintendent walked
swiftly and quietly into the room, and looked first at the body and then at
the doctor.
"Is it all over, sir?"
"All over," said the doctor very sadly. "If I had been here at the time I
could have done nothing. This is a matter for you, inspector."
The inspector looked at the tell-tale mark upon the shirt where the flame
had scorched it, and then looked inquiringly at the doctor.
"Yes," said the doctor, understanding the unspoken question; "it is

murder."
The inspector turned away.
"Who found the body?"
"I did," Ralph replied.
"Then with your permission I will come up to the house when I have
just looked round and locked up the place," the inspector said, and Ralph
went out with the doctor. Thus left in command, the inspector's manner
changed. He cleared the room of all save Martin Somers, and carefully
noted all the little details: the closed windows, the position of the furniture,
the empty tumbler on the table. In the dressing-room he saw the water in the
basin just stained with blood, and in the corner by the press the blood-
stained shirt and jacket which Ralph had just changed, his wet sweater and
blazer and soaked flannel trousers hanging upon the side of the big bath
where he had left them to dry. Next, the inspector made a careful search all
round the boathouse, but the almost tropical rain had obliterated all
footsteps, and no clue remained outside. When he at length was satisfied, he
summoned the stablemen, and, improvising a litter of the two shutters,
lashed together across the boathooks from the canoe, they reverently laid
Sir Geoffrey's body on it and bore all that remained of the fine old
gentleman back to the beautiful home of which he had been so proud and
beloved a master.
CHAPTER XV.
FLIGHT.
Had Ralph not lingered on the houseboat to see that Gwendolen crossed
the garden in safety he must almost have taken his brother red-handed in
what was tantamount to parricide. That fearful peal of thunder against the
din of which he shouted to her to run quickly home, marked the point in
time when Melville fired the shot that took his uncle's life. Great tragedies
often take but seconds in the acting, and in this supreme moment in
Melville's life of crime deed followed thought and thought followed deed as
swiftly as the lightning shafts that burst from the riven sky and tore down
into the bosom of the earth.
In a sense, he was conscious of a sort of elemental grandeur in his

position that yet was wholly diabolical; it was as if all the spirits of evil had
sped from the furthest confines of hell and, borne on the pinions of the
storm, had foregathered at that lonely spot to become incarnate in him for
one brief instant of concentrated passion; but, that brief instant gone, they
had departed from him again and sped away, shrieking with fiendish glee at
leaving him to reawaken to human consciousness, and face the fact that he
was a murderer whose crime had been overseen.
That was the dominant fact in Melville's mind—Lavender had been a

witness of the murder. What measures to take to secure her silence he must
decide presently; the immediately urgent matter was to get away unseen.
Casting one rapid, comprehensive glance all round the room to satisfy
himself that he had left no damning trace behind him, and incidentally
photographing the scene upon his highly sensitised brain, he stepped
noiselessly out of the boathouse and grasped Lavender by the wrist.
"Come," he said curtly and incisively. She shuddered as she felt his
touch, but relaxed her hold upon the iron pillar and looked fearfully in his
eyes. "Come," he said again, and she obeyed him. Still holding her firmly
by the wrist he led her to the far end of the creek and helped her over the
ha-ha. As he did so, she dropped her handkerchief, and Melville, picking it
up, put it in his pocket. "I'll give that back to you at Waterloo," he said with
grim humour. "We can't afford to be so careless here."
Across the meadow they broke into a run, and, reaching the river bank,
forced their way through the bushes and regained the boat. There Lavender
collapsed, and breaking into nervous hysterical sobs, begged Melville not to
push off into the open stream. She seemed, indeed, to have lost all self-
control, and Melville hesitated, wondering if her condition would attract
attention. But that was a smaller risk than for him to be found in the
neighbourhood if the discovery of Sir Geoffrey's body were followed by an
immediate and exhaustive search; so he contented himself with the
assertion of his mastery of will, and for the moment tried to reassure her.
"There is no more danger on the open water than there is under these
trees," he said, "if so much. See, I will move the stroke seat and row up in
the bows. Then you can lie down and hide your eyes so as not to see the
lightning." He made her as comfortable as he could, covering her with his
coat and waistcoat; then he shoved off, and with firm, strong strokes lifted
the boat along, while Lavender crouched down on the cushions and hid her
face from the horror of the storm.
And as he rowed, his mind worked as methodically as his arms and legs,
the measured thud of the sculls against the rowlocks seeming to have a
soothing effect upon his excited imagination. Possibly it was due to
something akin to demoniacal possession, but whatever its originating
source might be there was not a little to compel admiration in the
determined way this man could control his thinking powers, could face
danger, however imminent, and utilise all his ingenuity in devising means
of escape.
In the time required to row from Fairbridge to St. Martin's Lock he

surveyed the whole situation. He reflected that the storm would break up
the Longbridge regatta, that some of the inmates of the Manor House would
find Sir Geoffrey lying dead in his summer room and raise a hue and cry,
and that as soon as the first shock of the discovery was over they would
telegraph for Mr. Tracy and himself. In order, therefore, to avoid having to
invent any circumstantial story of his own movements, it was essential that
he should, if possible, get into his rooms unseen, so that his wet flannels
might not betray where he had been, and be there when the telegram
arrived. Could that be arranged he might be able, if the worst came to the
worst, to set up an alibi successfully, and the Fairbridge murder would be
numbered among the unsolved mysteries of crime. As for Lavender,
something would depend upon the severity of the storm in London.

Essays On Biblical Historiography From Jeroboam Ii To John Hyrcanus I 1St Edition Israel Finkelstein Full Chapter

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Essays on Biblical Historiography:

From Jeroboam II to John Hyrcanus I

Konrad Schmid (Zürich) · Mark S. Smith (Princeton)

ISBN 978-3-16-160853-7 / eISBN 978-3-16-160854-4

© 2022 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany. www.mohrsiebeck.com

Part II: Pentateuch Traditions

Part III: Rise of Ancient Israel

Part IV: Savior Stories in the Book of Judges

Part V: Saul, Benjamin, Bethel

Part VI: North Israelite Historiography

Part VII: Judahite Historiography

Part VIII: Hasmonean Historiography

AASOR Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research

5.1: Main sites and ancient roads in the south ����������������������������������������������� 92

8.1: The Canaanite cities according to the conquest traditions

8.2: City-states memorized in pre-Deuteronomistic traditions

10.1: Places mentioned in Judges 4–5 �������������������������������������������������������������� 192

12.1: Sites referred to in the Jephthah narrative �������������������������������������������� 226

14.1: Territory covered by the accounts of the Major and

20.1: Capitals of Israel and Judah and places mentioned in the

23.1: Map of the Shephelah, southern Hebron hills and Beer-

29.1: Sites mentioned in the list of returnees ������������������������������������������������� 528

30.1: Places mentioned in the genealogies in 1 Chronicles 2–9 ����������������� 543

30.2: Sites mentioned in the list of Rehoboamʼs fortresses with

This book presents my views on biblical historiography. By historiography I mean

History, Historicity and Historiography in Ancient Israel

1. A Brief History of Research

1 E.g., Davies 1992; Thompson 1999.

2. How to “View from the Center”?

Traditional biblical archaeology and reconstruction of the history of Ancient Israel

5 E. Mazar 2007; 2009; rejoinder in Finkelstein et al. 2007.

13 Ward and Sharp Joukowsky 1992; Cline 2015.

2.1 Itʼs All about Dating

16 Boaretto et al. 2010; Shahack Gross et al. 2014.

2.2 The Israel–Judah Dichotomy

17 E.g., Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2010.

23 Broshi and Finkelstein 1992.

27 Summary in Aḥituv 2008, 433–465 and bibliography on p. 465.

31 Contra, e.g., Pearce 1973.

38 Bietak 1987; Hendel 2001; Naʼaman 2011c.

2.5 Accumulated Memories

2.6 How Were Old Traditions Preserved and Transferred to Judah?

2.7 Theology versus History

52 Broshi 1974; van der Toorn 1996, 339–372; Schniedewind 2004.

3. Summary: Landmarks in the Development of Early Biblical History

62 On my current understanding of the archaeology of Shiloh and biblical references to the

The Appearance and Dissemination of

at the university. We engaged in two lines of investigation: multi-spectral imaging,

4 E.g., Sober et al. 2014; Mendel-Geberovich et al. 2017.

3. The Date of the “Early” Arad Inscriptions

3.1 Ostraca 76–79 and 81

3.2 Inscriptions Assigned by Aharoni to Strata X–VIII

4. Ostraca from Other Sites

There is no reason to doubt the stratigraphic affiliation of Beer-sheba Ostracon 1

52 Ibid., 1971, 71.

5. Other Pieces of Evidence to Consider

72 Lipschits, Sergi, and Koch 2010.

Mrs. Sinclair shook her head.

"I shouldn't be surprised if there were a storm," he remarked; "have you

"The sky is sitting on the top of my head," Mrs. Sinclair complained.

As a matter of fact, he had heard of the Longbridge regatta with

The intense atmospheric oppression was beginning to tell upon Mrs.

Presently Melville drew the boat into the bank.

5.1: Main sites and ancient roads in the south �� 92

10.1: Places mentioned in Judges 4–5 �� 192

12.1: Sites referred to in the Jephthah narrative �� 226

29.1: Sites mentioned in the list of returnees �� 528

30.1: Places mentioned in the genealogies in 1 Chronicles 2–9 �� 543