LABOR AND DOMESTIC ECONOMY ON THE ROYAL ESTATE

IN THE INKA IMPERIAL HEARTLAND

(MARAS, CUZCO, PERU)

Approved by:

______________________________ Dr. R. Alan Covey

______________________________Dr. B. Sunday Eiselt

______________________________Dr. David J. Meltzer

______________________________Dr. Gary Urton

LABOR AND DOMESTIC ECONOMY ON THE ROYAL ESTATE

IN THE INKA IMPERIAL HEARTLAND

(MARAS, CUZCO, PERU)

A Dissertation Presented to the Graduate Faculty of

Dedman College

Southern Methodist University

in

Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements

for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

with a

Major in Anthropology

by

Kylie E. Quave

(B.A., Emory University) (M.A., Southern Methodist University)

May 12, 2012

Copyright (2012)

Kylie E. Quave

All Rights Reserved

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Quave, Kylie B.A., Emory University, 2005 M.A., Southern Methodist University, 2008 Labor and Domestic Economy on the Royal Estate in the Inka Imperial Heartland (Maras, Cuzco, Peru)

Advisor: Professor R. Alan Covey Doctor of Philosophy conferred May 12, 2012 Dissertation completed May 9, 2012

The Inkas developed the largest native empire in the Americas (ca. 14th-16th c. CE)

and transformed much of their heartland region into productive royal estates. Noble

factions built palaces, intensified agricultural resources, and re-settled provincial and local

populations as estate retainers. While Inka researchers enjoy a vast historical background

relevant to these processes, archaeologists have not yet sought the material evidence for the

royal estate economy’s operation and organization. Such an undertaking is vital to

modeling the role of factionalism in imperial development and consolidation, especially in

empires where noble economies claimed significant portions of resources and labor.

In order to assess the role of the royal estate within the Inka political economy, this

dissertation evaluates two aspects of the estate: 1) the organization of production of

subsistence and craft goods on estate lands and 2) the domestic economies of non-elite

laborers and intermediate elite administrators living on the estate. This evaluation is

contextualized by a wealth of recent regional survey and archival research. While previous

archaeological, ethnohistorical, and architectural investigations of the estate have limited

their approaches to just the palace complex and monumental sites, this project takes a new

perspective by examining a production enclave and retainer settlement located seven

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kilometers from the nearest palace complex.

Research on estate labor and administration was conducted via archaeological

excavation at the site of Cheqoq in Maras, Cuzco, Peru and contextualized within recent

regional studies. Through horizontal excavation of six laborer households, a storehouse,

and pottery workshop, I analyzed domestic economy and production to reconstruct the

royal estate economy and its relation to the larger imperial political economy. Qualitative

and quantitative analysis of artifacts provided a database for assessing production and

consumption by household and as a site on the whole.

These comparisons indicate production and consumption patterns similar to some

of those laid out through chronicle and archival documents in the early Colonial period

(16th to 17th

Data on domestic economy and estate production at Cheqoq contribute to

developing a baseline for evaluating the role of royal and noble estates within imperial

economies. The methods and results from this study may be applied to other cases within

the Inka empire and in other early states and empires. This study can thus increase our

understanding of how factionalism promoted imperial growth and how laborer and

administrator households participated in the transformation.

c. CE). However, I find that laborers and administrators negotiated status and

identity relative to each other and to their noble patrons in complex and heterogeneous

ways. While estate laborers had no status in the empire beyond their attachment to a noble

faction, they had access to some goods beyond their station due to their proximity to and

participation in estate wealth production. As producers of imperial style pottery and

administrators of stored crop surpluses, these non-elites found ways to assimilate

Cuzco-Inka material culture into their daily lives.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF FIGURES .............................................................................................................x

LIST OF TABLES ........................................................................................................... xvi ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ............................................................................................. xix Chapter

1. INTRODUCTION .....................................................................................................1

The Cheqoq Archaeological Project ........................................................................9 Research design and analytical methods .................................................................12 Organization of the dissertation ..............................................................................16 2. RECONSTRUCTING IMPERIAL POLITICAL ECONOMY ...............................22

Major themes in studying pre-modern economies .................................................23

Defining political economy and its components ....................................................26

Staple and wealth finance ...................................................................................34

Defining domestic economy ..................................................................................35

Socioeconomic hierarchies in imperial economies ................................................39

Comparing imperial economies .............................................................................42

3. ANDEAN STATE ECONOMIC POLICIES AND INSTITUTIONS .....................44

Tribute organization ...............................................................................................48

Agropastoral economic policies .............................................................................55

Craft production, exchange policies, and wealth finance ......................................61

Reconstructing Andean state economies ...............................................................65

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4. IMPERIAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE INKA HEARTLAND ...............................72

Development of the Cuzco heartland .....................................................................73

Royal estate development in the Cuzco heartland .................................................77

Estate labor and administration ..........................................................................83

Inka development in the Maras region ...................................................................89

Environment and natural resources in Maras .....................................................90

Ethnohistory of Maras........................................................................................94

Wayna Qhapaq’s estate ......................................................................................99

Archaeological evidence for Inka transitions in Maras ...................................103

5. THE CHEQOQ ARCHAEOLOGICAL PROJECT ..............................................107

Archaeological hypotheses ..................................................................................108

Defining households, houses, and other spaces ...................................................113

Site description – Cheqoq ....................................................................................115

Excavation units relevant to the present study .....................................................123

Area F – storage .............................................................................................126

Area G – domestic .........................................................................................127

Area H – domestic .........................................................................................130

Area M – domestic .........................................................................................135

Area N – domestic .........................................................................................139

Area Q – domestic .........................................................................................140

Area R – domestic ..........................................................................................145

Area U – pottery production ..........................................................................146

Recovery and analysis of archaeological remains .............................................146

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6. AGROPASTORAL ECONOMY AMONG CHEQOQ HOUSEHOLDS ...............151

Ethnohistorical models of re-settled laborer subsistence production ....................155

Crop cultivation .....................................................................................................159

Hunting ..................................................................................................................164

Camelid herding and husbandry ...........................................................................166

Storage ..................................................................................................................171

Organization of subsistence production at Cheqoq ..............................................187

7. A CUZCO-INKA POTTERY WORKSHOP AT CHEQOQ ...................................190

Models of imperial heartland ceramic production ..................................................192

Known Inka-style pottery production facilities ......................................................193

An imperial style pottery workshop ........................................................................201

Reconstructing the organization and technology of the workshop .........................209

Clays and pigments ..............................................................................................212

Forming activities ................................................................................................214

Firing activities and by-products .........................................................................217

Finishing activities ...............................................................................................225

Finished products found in situ ............................................................................227

Ware types .........................................................................................................228 Vessel forms.......................................................................................................230 The implications of a retainer workshop at Cheqoq ...............................................233

8. DOMESTIC FOOD ECONOMY AT CHEQOQ .....................................................236

Models of Inka subsistence consumption ...............................................................239

Archaeological evidence for diet and cuisine in Cheqoq households .....................245

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Macrobotanical remains .......................................................................................245

Faunal remains ....................................................................................................262

Food processing artifacts ....................................................................................275

Status and identity reconstructed through food processing and consumption ........284

9. DOMESTIC WEALTH ECONOMY AT CHEQOQ ..............................................289

Metal goods .............................................................................................................294

Marine shell ............................................................................................................298

Ceramics .................................................................................................................301

Cuzco-Inka pottery .............................................................................................304

Non Cuzco-Inka pottery .....................................................................................311

Other wealth goods and special contexts ................................................................314

Wealth economies at Cheqoq and in the royal estate: implications for socioeconomic relationships ..........................................................................326 10. THE INKA ROYAL ESTATE: CHEQOQ HOUSEHOLDS AND IMPERIAL DEVELOPMENT ....................................................................331 Site formation and sampling challenges of the dataset ..........................................333

Production and consumption economies in Cheqoq households: status and identity..........................................................................................................336 State and estate economies in the heartland ...........................................................351

Appendix

A. QUECHUA AND SPANISH GLOSSARY AND ORTHOGRAPHY ....................357

B. CERAMIC DESCRIPTIONS ..................................................................................361

REFERENCES ................................................................................................................391

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LIST OF FIGURES

Figure Page

1.1. Map of the limits of Inka influence, ca. 1532 (after Covey 2006b) .................. 5

1.2. Map of some rural palace complexes and the locations of sites mentioned throughout the text ......................................................................................... 7

1.3. View of Cerro Cheqoq (right) and base of Cerro Ahuayro (left) from the east ................................................................................................... 13 3.1. Approximate chronologies of Andean polities discussed in this chapter ......... 45

3.2. Core regions of Andean states discussed in this chapter .................................. 46

4.1. Regional map of the location of Cheqoq and some royal estate sites in relation to Cuzco and Maras. Base map by Alan Covey. ........................................... 79

4.2. Reconstructed southern wall of the main Quispiwanka palace structure (part of a larger architectural compound [see Niles 1999]) ................................... 81 4.3. Recent photo of the Maras Plain in the dry season, with a view from Cerro Cheqoq toward the northeast and the Yucay Valley ..................................... 91 4.4. Points in Maras mentioned in the text .............................................................. 92 5.1. Map of approximate limits of occupational periods at Cheqoq based on surface remains and CHAP test units ........................................................... 117 5.2. Map and official delimitation (according to the Peruvian Ministry of Culture) of the site of Cheqoq .................................................................................... 118 5.3. Late Intermediate Period and Killke sherds excavated in Area D .................. 122 5.4. Inka-related plate (above) and LIP decorated unidentified jar (below) from Area D .................................................................................................. 123

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5.5. Plan view of Area F storehouse excavation .................................................... 127 5.6. Photo showing natural clay below the floor level in Area G excavation (UE 7 and 7A). N is to the right. ............................................................................. 129 5.7. Plan view of Area G excavation ...................................................................... 130 5.8. View from north of Area H excavations in 2010 (UE 22) at the base of Cerro Ahuayro .............................................................................................. 131 5.9. Plan view of east side of Area H horizontal excavation with semi-circular structure ........................................................................................................ 133

5.10. View from south of the floor of the semi-circular structure in Area H .......... 134 5.11. Floor of semi-circular structure in Area H ...................................................... 135 5.12. Plan view of horizontal excavation in Area M ............................................... 137 5.13. Area M (UE 13) from north ............................................................................ 138 5.14. Vessel bottom found on paved section of Area M .......................................... 138 5.15. Inka-related vessel (left) and unidentified decorated shallow bowls found in the small square feature in Area M .......................................................... 139 5.16. Detail of Inka floor with the edge of a hearth in southeast corner of UE 14 in Area N (shown in dashed line) ................................................................ 140 5.17. UE 25 seen from the west. The mounded wall in the north covers the north wall of the three-sided structure. .................................................................. 141 5.18. Four-walled structure in Area Q, showing partially excavated prepared white clay floor ............................................................................................ 142 5.19. Plan view of UE 25 in Area Q, showing two rectangular structures .............. 143 5.20. Overhead view from north of UE 25 before opening patio sub-units ............. 144 5.21. Plan view of UE 18, the smaller three-walled structure in Area R ................. 145

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6.1. Mock-up of a wini with wooden handle (after Rivero 2005: 89) and drawing of an unfinished wini recovered in Area G (anterior and medial views; based on original drawing by Andrea Balderamos) ..................................... 162 6.2. Remaining winikuna recovered in other domestic contexts ............................ 163 6.3. Quartz unifacial point from Area R (left) and obsidian bifacial point from Area H (right) ............................................................................................... 165 6.4. Bar chart of camelid ages at time of death by minimum number of elements (MNE), following Sandefur’s epiphyseal fusion method (2001) and Wheeler’s tooth wear ages (1982) ................................................................ 169 6.5. Photo of Machuqollqa storage site from the northwest, showing possibly later and earlier complexes ................................................................................... 174 6.6. Reconstructed storehouses at Cheqoq. View from the east in Sector Sipas Qhawarina .................................................................................................... 176 6.7. Bird’s eye view of Area F excavation showing adobe bins, storehouse floor, and front and back structural walls (photo taken from on top of back wall). North is to the left. ........................................................................................ 176 6.8. Area F from the east, with a view of the stone-lined ducts and back wall of the storehouse ............................................................................................... 177 6.9. Stratigraphic profile drawing of Area F storehouse excavated by CHAP....... 178

6.10. Remains of the utilitarian ware urpu shattered on the floor of the storehouse .................................................................................................... 180 6.11. Reconstructed morphology of large, undecorated, utilitarian ware urpu found on the floor of the storehouse in front of the ventilation ducts .................... 181 6.12. Locations of some Cuzco region Inka storehouse complexes discussed here .............................................................................................. 182 6.13. Late Intermediate Period unidentified decorated sherds recovered from levels above the floor in the CHAP storehouse excavation ......................... 187 7.1. Pottery production sites discussed in this chapter ........................................... 195 7.2. View of surface scatter over Area U pottery workshop, looking north (toward the open end of the workshop area) .............................................................. 203

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7.3. Test unit (UE 21) excavated in Area U that revealed the southeastern corner of the workshop, just adjacent to the firing area later excavated ...................... 205 7.4. End of excavations of UE 28 facing east toward the Yucay valley ................ 207 7.5. Photo showing the difference in floor height between the north and south sides .................................................................................................... 210 7.6. Plan view of excavations of workshop in Area U ........................................... 211 7.7. Examples of small netherstones possibly used for crushing pigment in the workshop ...................................................................................................... 213 7.8. Potter’s plate, possibly used for forming bases ............................................... 214 7.9. Examples of re-utilized sherds used to smooth and polish vessels at the leather-hard stage of production ................................................................... 215

7.10. Custom-made ring for forming rims or necks of 17 cm diameter .................. 216 7.11. Modified bones utilized as scrapers in forming vessels .................................. 217 7.12. Base of the firing feature, showing red burnt earth (Munsell 2.5YR 3/3 dark reddish brown) and ash lenses (Munsell 10YR 7/1 light grey) ........... 219 7.13. Examples of wasters from rim and body sherds of Cuzco-Inka vessels ......... 220 7.14. Compacted ashy lens within the firing feature (shown in dashed circle) ....... 221 7.15. Detail of sooty stone surrounded by burnt earth in the firing area ................. 221 7.16. Details related to the firing feature ................................................................. 225 7.17. Examples of polishing stones.......................................................................... 226 7.18. Example of high level of pitting on the end of a smoothing stone ................. 227 7.19. Stacked bar chart showing the differences in ratios of Cuzco-Inka to Inka- related pottery in domestic and workshop contexts ..................................... 229 8.1. Ubiquity of important food taxa by domestic Area ......................................... 252 8.2. Density (NISP per liter of floated bulk sediment) of important food taxa by domestic Area ............................................................................................... 253

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8.3. Two views of a possible peccary mandible fragment from Area Q ................ 266 8.4. Stacked bar chart showing raw frequencies (MNE) of common and uncommon faunal species by domestic Area ............................................... 269 8.5. Examples of grinding stones from Area H ...................................................... 279 8.6. Reverse and obverse of broken grinding stone recovered on the floor of semi-circular structure in Area H ................................................................. 280 8.7. The Serving Vessel Index provides the ratio of serving (Inka and other decorated cups, bowls, and plates) to cooking vessels (utilitarian ware pots) ................................................................................... 282 8.8. Bar chart comparing serving, cooking, and (possible) aqha processing and serving jars per square meter per household ................................................ 283 8.9. The ratio of Cuzco-Inka to non-Inka decorated serving vessels (plates, bowls, and cups) ....................................................................................................... 284 9.1. Examples of finished metal goods and possible production by-products from domestic contexts ......................................................................................... 294 9.2. Examples of marine shells recovered at Cheqoq ............................................. 301 9.3. Examples of unidentified decorated sherds from Area H ............................... 313 9.4. Turquoise bead from the floor of a small rectangular structure in Area R...... 314 9.5. Obverse and reverse of green schist pendant found in Area U firing pit ........ 315 9.6. Worked bone objects ....................................................................................... 316

9.7. Box plots showing diameter (cm) distributions by domestic and production Area for Cuzco-Inka (decorated and undecorated) narrow-mouth jars ........ 321 9.8. Confidence intervals (95%) for mean rim diameter of Cuzco-Inka (decorated and undecorated) narrow-mouth jars by Area .............................................. 322

9.9. Narrow-mouth jar found in offering cache of Area Q ...................................... 323 9.10. Examples of figurative nubbins (top row and last two on bottom row) typically found on narrow-mouth jars.......................................................... 323

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9.11. Female burial in Area H, with associated Cuzco local bowl fragment ........... 325 10.1. Superior and lateral views of one ceramic game piece found in Area A near the storehouses ............................................................................................. 348 10.2. Two side views of astragalus game piece found in Area U workshop ........... 348 10.3. Two sides of an adobe figurine found in Area M ........................................... 349

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LIST OF TABLES

Table Page 5.1. Excavated Areas included in dissertation analysis, including sample sizes of main diagnostic artifact assemblages ....................................................... 124 5. 2. Excavated Areas not included in detailed analysis in this dissertation ........... 124 6.1. The inferential potential for evaluating certain aspects of the economy for each data type ............................................................................................... 155 6.2. Summary of stone toolkits associated with cultivation and hunting, by household area .............................................................................................. 165 6.3. Osteological analysis of camelid work-related pathologies ............................ 170 6.4. Taxa identified at Cuzco storehouses .............................................................. 183 6.5. Raw counts of vessel types in Guevara’s 2004 excavations of five Cheqoq storehouses, including only Cuzco-Inka types ............................................. 185 6.6. Vessel types and forms identified in the Area F storehouse by CHAP ........... 186 7.1. Raw counts of carbonized macrobotanical and wood remains identified from Area U and their possible uses ..................................................................... 224 7.2. Rim fragment counts by broad functional vessel categories for each context type at Cheqoq (using only CHAP results and Cuzco-Inka style vessels, both decorated and undecorated [Cuzco Buff]) ........................................... 231 7.3. Contingency table analysis for vessel form categories for Cuzco-Inka style vessels only (including 2004 INC excavations [Guevara 2004] of Cheqoq storehouses) .................................................................................................. 233 8.1. All taxa identified in flotation (bulk sediment) samples ................................. 248

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8.2. Raw counts (fragmentary and whole) of all carbonized botanical remains identified from flotation samples of horizontally excavated domestic areas .............................................................................................. 249 8.3. Absolute counts of important food remains from bulk sediment samples identified in horizontally excavated domestic areas ..................................... 250 8.4. Ubiquity (percentage presence) measure of important food remains .............. 251 8.5. Density of NISP per liter of sediment for important food taxa ....................... 253 8.6. Floral taxa identified in hand-recovered samples ............................................ 255 8.7. Raw counts of identified macrobotanical and anthracological samples (fragmented and whole) from dry screening and hand recovery in horizontally excavated domestic areas ......................................................... 256 8.8. Inventory of taxa by domestic Area using both systematic flotation samples and hand-recovered specimens ..................................................................... 257 8.9. NISP counts for all faunal taxa in domestic Areas .......................................... 267

8.10. MNE counts for all faunal taxa in domestic Areas ......................................... 268 8.11. MNI counts for all faunal taxa in domestic Areas .......................................... 268 8.12. Faunal material recovered in Machu Picchu tombs (Miller 2003: 6) for comparison with the Cheqoq dietary assemblage ........................................ 270 8.13. Skeletal element data for camelids and artiodactyls by MNE ........................ 272 8.14. Meat packages (camelid and artiodactyl) by MNE and weight, following Sandefur (2001) ........................................................................................... 273 8.15. Percentage of burned bone by household using MNE. Includes Camelidae and Artiodactyla. .......................................................................................... 275 8.16. Lithic tools possibly used in butchering meat ................................................. 277 8.17. Grinding stone counts and weights by domestic terrace ................................. 279 8.18. Summary of relative differences in activity frequencies between households, using data from this chapter and Chapter 6 ................................................. 286

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9.1. Criteria used in classifying pottery ware types found in Inka households (other than utilitarian) ................................................................................... 303 9.2. Raw frequency counts of diagnostic sherds from domestic Areas by ware type ................................................................................................. 305 9.3. Frequencies and percentages of three basic decorated ware types .................. 306 9.4. Contingency table analysis and Freeman-Tukey deviates (in parentheses) for two main decorated pottery types by household .......................................... 306 9.5. Contingency table analysis and Freeman-Tukey deviates (in parentheses) of decorated wares versus utilitarian wares by household ................................ 307 9.6. Frequency counts (and percentages) of cups, bowls, and plates of different styles, which demonstrate the material correlates of the household consumption ritual (Smith 1987) .................................................................. 308 9.7. Percentage of Cuzco-Inka decorated and undecorated pottery that is made up of waster sherds ....................................................................................... 310 9.8. Paste types of “unknown decorated” sherds by household ............................. 312 9.9. Vessel forms (those available) for the unknown decorated sherds in Inka domestic contexts ......................................................................................... 312

9.10. Inventory of the macrobotanical contents (seeds) of offering cache in Area Q (Bertone 2011) ......................................................................................... 319 9.11. Mean rim diameters by Area for Cuzco-Inka (decorated and undecorated) narrow-mouth jars ........................................................................................ 322 9.12. Wealth and craft goods by terrace .................................................................. 328 10.1. Household-by-household comparison of artifact assemblages ...................... 345

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many individuals and institutions have helped to bring this project to fruition. I

have received much intellectual, professional, and financial support along the way and

owe many debts of gratitude. My advisor Dr. Alan Covey has been a vital source of

encouragement and constructive help during the past six years. Alan took me on as a

student when I had very little experience and always offered all the resources I needed.

He has been selfless with his time, effort, and data. Alan has given me opportunities for

research, writing, and funding when I needed them most. He provided thoughtful and

critical responses during the dissertation writing and during the crafting of many

proposals, past and present, even taking harried phone calls from the field. I could not

have asked for a more dedicated advisor and I thank him sincerely.

This project would not have been possible without Alan or my other committee

members. Drs. David Meltzer, Sunday Eiselt, and Gary Urton have also been attentive

committee members, pulling me back when I got carried away, and giving a close read to

the project and its logic. Dr. Meltzer and Dr. Eiselt were instrumental in my growth as a

graduate student, always pushing me to think deeper and more critically. I learned much

from them inside and outside the classroom. Dr. Urton has been a valued mentor since I

was an undergraduate and had taken an interest in one of his passions – the khipu. I

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appreciate the stimulating discussion Dr. Urton always provides and thank him for giving

me my first archaeological fieldwork opportunity at Tiwanaku.

Archaeological research is a costly undertaking and I thank the National Science

Foundation for a Dissertation Improvement Grant (BCS-938453, with PI Alan Covey),

the National Geographic Society for a Young Explorers Grant (8691-09), and the

Fulbright Institute for International Education (Student Grant in 2009-2010) for also

supporting the dissertation field research. Additionally, the Dean of Dedman College and

the Dedman Graduate Dean provided needed funds for my last season of laboratory work

and a Dissertation Writing Fellowship in the final year of the project, respectively. Along

the way, I have been fortunate to receive grants from the Institute for the Study of Earth

and Man, the Graduate Dean, the Graduate Student Assembly, and the Department of

Anthropology for pilot research and travel funds. These institutions made it possible to

run a field project that involved the training of dozens of students and allowed me to

write the dissertation without too many of life’s distractions. The Fulbright Commission

in Lima – especially Henry Harman, Marcela de Harth, and Ada Visag -- provided all the

assistance one could ever ask for in dealing with Peruvian bureaucracy and opening doors

for professional contacts while completing my fieldwork.

When I first transitioned to archaeology from art history, Dr. Urton and Kate

Davis allowed me to attend my first excavation project at Tiwanaku. Kate was patient

with me and generous with her time. Since then, Dr. Allison Davis, Amanda Aland, Dr.

Covey, Dr. Brian Bauer, Marty Authier, and Maeve Skidmore have all given me

opportunities to do field work on their projects. All of these have been lessons in

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adaptation, critical thinking, humility, and fellowship. I treasure the fieldwork

experiences we’ve shared and thank these individuals for being willing to teach me.

Cuzco is a dynamic place to work and scholars are always around, ready to join

you on a hike or discuss the Andes over a coffee. I have really benefitted from the

collegiality of foreign scholars working, living, and passing through Cuzco. I thank Drs.

Bauer, Terry D’Altroy, Ramiro Matos, Alexei Vranich, Valerie Andrushko, Alex

Chepstow-Lusty, and Jean-Jacques Decoster for offering sage advice and being available

for the occasional chat or adventure. I am grateful for the help Drs. Bauer and D’Altroy

provided in crafting the National Geographic proposal. Fellow graduate students in

Cuzco included Dr. Véronique Bélisle, Dr. Allison Davis, Dr. Steve Kosiba, Darryl

Wilkinson, and Maeve Skidmore. I will fondly recall the time we spent together

discussing research and blowing off steam. Thank you for making the experience a fun

one.

The Cheqoq project would not have been possible without the timely permitting

process that the Instituto Nacional de Cultura in Cuzco and Lima (INC) facilitated

(Resolución 1579/INC). Colleagues at the INC offices in Cuzco helped my Peruvian co-

directors and me to receive the required permissions for excavations at Cheqoq. I

especially appreciate the assistance offered by Director Wilber Paliza, René Pilco Vargas,

Lorena Alvarez, and Silvia Flores Delgado. The Cheqoq Archaeological Project co-

directors René Pilco and Stephanie Pierce Terry helped make the project a reality and

offered invaluable input in all steps of the research. I especially appreciate their

friendship, good humor, and patience along the way.

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Many Peruvian colleagues in archaeology, anthropology, and history helped me in

various ways in Cuzco, Lima, and elsewhere in Peru. I thank Miriam Aráoz, Carlos

Delgado, Manuel Perales, Carlo Socualaya, Roman Flores, Alfredo Mormontoy, Eulogio

Alccacontor, Victor Qhawana, Luis Guevara, Julinho Zapata, Donato Amado, Viky

Galiano, Dr. Jorge Flores Espinoza, Dr. David Ugarte, Dr. Victor Aguilar, Jorge Gamboa,

and many others I am surely forgetting to name for their willingness to help me make

contacts and show me the ropes of Peruvian research.

The family of Viky Galiano and Donato Amado, including Carmen, Yeshica,

Jesús, and Rosa, especially, provided my home in Cuzco and were a caring surrogate

family. I appreciate their unyielding kindness and friendship over the years and count

myself lucky to know them and their whole extended family.

Some study was undertaken in the Archivo Departamental del Cuzco and the

Archivo General de la Nación del Perú in Lima. I thank the administrators and scholars

working at these institutions for facilitating my research and offering advice on the

project, especially Roberto Cáceres. Donato Amado helped me learn the basics of

paleography and I owe him much gratitude for his effort. Dr. Covey and Dr. David

Garrett gave leads on sources to seek out, helping me to pinpoint the documents pertinent

to my research and saving valuable time.

The macrobotanical remains were studied by the Laboratorio de Investigaciones

Arquebotánicas del Perú (LIAP) at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos in

Lima. Analysis was led by the hardworking Gabriela Bertone, Li Jing Na, Paula Espósito,

and Fanny Moutarde. I appreciate LIAP’s willingness to take on a project in a new region

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and deliver the results in a timely manner. Dr. Valerie Andrushko very generously

analyzed the human remains from the first excavation season. Maeve Skidmore also

offered her precious time to analyze the Middle Horizon pottery from Cheqoq. I

appreciate their valuable insight and help.

In Cuzco, I benefitted immensely from interaction and collaboration with

colleagues and students from the Universidad Nacional de San Antonio Abad del Cuzco.

Students in my Ceramics course taught me a lot about Cuzco archaeology and made the

laboratory season a real pleasure. Their help as volunteers at Cheqoq during the second

season helped us to advance well with the project and kept perspectives fresh (and fun!).

My friends and colleagues in the Instituto de Investigación Científico Andino, especially

Ivan Ccallo and Santabel Quispe, made Cuzco an even more intellectually stimulating

place to work.

Several undergraduate and graduate students generously gave their time to

volunteer as crew chiefs at Cheqoq. I am grateful to Matt Weitkamp, Andrea Balderamos,

Andrew Griebeler, Mindy Burkitt, Sarah Kennedy, Catherine Baumgartner, BrieAnna

Langlie, and Maeve Skidmore for their hard work, resilience, and good humor. Peruvian

friends and colleagues who worked at Cheqoq as crew chiefs or volunteers would make a

long list. I particularly thank Ivan Ccallo, Santabel Quispe, Norma Alanya, Damner

Aparicio, Wilbert Gamarra, Henry Quispe, Jorge Flores Sanchez, and the many others

who came out to Maras for short or long periods. The INC staff stationed at Cheqoq was

a huge help in navigating the site and land owners. They celebrated our discoveries with

us and were always ready for a chicha and huayno after a long day’s work.

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The whole community of Maras welcomed us, many of them coming out to work

on the project and graciously inviting us into their homes. I have many precious

memories of our time together and thank them for accepting the team and me into their

lives. The Municipality of Maras was enthusiastic about the project from the beginning

and helped open doors for the project to be funded, approved, and executed. I especially

thank Mayor Eriberto Quispe for his assistance and support.

My favorite part of working in Maras was living with the family of Jesús Lucana

and Elena Morales. Their whole extended family took us in happily and put up with a

bunch of hungry gringos and a rambunctious dog. Jesús brought much knowledge to the

project as an experienced excavator, while Elena handled the laboratory with great care

and efficiency. I appreciate their willingness to take us on and befriend us.

Back in Dallas, I have greatly benefitted from the influence and friendship of my

professors, mentors, and peers at SMU. I thank my committee members, as well as Dr.

Friedel, Dr. Wilson, Dr. Kovacevich, Dr. Rick, Dr. Wetherington, Dr. Whitley, and Dr.

Roos, who have taught me classes and/or mentored me as a Teaching Assistant. They

helped me grow as a scholar and have had great influence on my thinking in this work

and beyond.

Pamela Hogan has been a department administrative assistant in Anthropology

since long before I arrived at SMU. I can’t imagine the graduate career without her

optimistic demeanor, sound advice, and always helpful assistance. Tiffany Powell’s

smiling face and fascinating stories made the department a pleasant place to work. And

xxv

Assistant Dean Barbara Phillips was patient and helpful during the process of preparing

the final dissertation manuscript.

Fellow graduate students have offered stimulating conversation and insight over

the years and I am grateful for the collegial environment they created here for us. My

fellow Andeanists -- Maeve Skidmore, Marty Authier, and Amanda Aland -- have been a

constant source of support and entertainment. I will miss the theory debates we’ve often

had in our lab and anxiously await our next collaboration. Amanda, Maeve, Marty, Dr.

Damien Marken, Lauren O’Brien, Leslie Reeder-Myers, Brooke Morgan, Dawn

Crawford, Laura Jarvis, Saira Mehmood, Lia Tsesmeli, David Lee, Kacy Hollenback (U.

of Arizona) and others have been the best of colleagues and friends during my time at

SMU.

Outside of the department, several individuals have been valued mentors over the

last few years. I am fortunate to have the support and advice of Dr. Rebecca Rollins

Stone, Dorothy Fletcher, Dr. Abby Bartoshesky, Dr. Sarahh Scher, and Carol Robbins in

particular. My family and friends have been understanding of the demands of this Ph.D.

journey and have always been available to help out. I especially thank Shannon, Katie,

Laura, Lydia, Victoria, Anna, and Kevin for their encouragement and for helping me

remember what matters most. My family – Sybil, Walter, Aubree, Jim, Sandra, Lanny,

María, Oscar, and Karla – lent unflagging support, love, and even financial assistance

throughout this process. My husband Gustavo has been a brave soul, accepting every

sacrifice, from uncelebrated holidays to quitting his job to become project chef, just to

xxvi

see me through this journey. This dissertation would not have been conceived, much less

completed, without the support of all these people. I am grateful to you all.

1

Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION

The Inka developed the largest native empire of the Americas, sending armies and

administrators out from the imperial heartland of Cuzco, in the highlands of what is today

southern Peru, to create new provinces in support of Tawantinsuyu (the Quechua term

referring to the imperial whole) (fig. 1.1). However, the transformation of the core region

beginning in the 13th century CE provided the means by which conquest and

consolidation could be successful economically (Bauer and Covey 2002, Covey 2006b).

A major element in creating the Inka political economy around Cuzco was the royal

estate system. Rulers and their noble lineages (panaqa) claimed uninhabited, wild lands

and the territories of rebellious neighboring polities (Covey 2011) (fig. 1.2), and used

labor tribute to transform these lands into palace complexes, irrigated agricultural

terracing, hunting preserves, and salt fields (Niles 2004). New resources were thus

created in the name of the ruler, his wife, and their panaqa. Subsequently, the Inka re-

settled a permanent estate labor force in and around these resources to produce food and

other goods for Inka nobles and estate personnel (Covey and Amado 2008). After the

ruler’s death, estates were held in perpetuity by the panaqa for the ostensible purpose of

caring for and making offerings to the ruler’s mummy (Cobo 1990[1653]: 40-3), but also

for the social and economic benefit of the descent group and hence, factional interests.

2

Within the state political economy, the Cuzco region was dominated by noble

interests.1

Our identification of estates and their resources and labor rely upon early Colonial

claims by noble lineages. We must recognize the weaknesses inherent to identifying

resources as “noble” and separate from the Inka state. The ruling nobility administered

the “state” and its resources as well. However, once a noble lineage was no longer in

power, there may have been contradictions in the interests of the formerly ruling and the

presently ruling. Rostworowski (1960, 1983, 1999), Sherbondy (1996), and D’Altroy

(2003: 86-108) have exhaustively discussed the “politics of blood” in Cuzco, in which

succession crises and dynamic alliances between noble factions placed the panaqas at

odds with each other. We can cautiously approach the royal estate system as a separate

entity from the state and its administration, even if it sometimes was one and the same

with the state. This project examines how the newly constituted heartland economy was

affected by and had an effect on the estate system, its administrators, and its laborers.

With a site-based view of the estate economy, we can begin to understand whether the

Inka estates performed economic functions similar to state production

enclaves, but under noble administration. The nobility took over large territories in the

Cuzco region for conversion to royal estate lands, appearing to subtract a significant

portion of rural Cuzco’s resources from the public resource pool. Labor was imported to

the heartland from various provinces and from within rural Cuzco, distinguishing

Cuzco’s economy from the rest of the empire (with the exception of a very limited

number of royal estates outside the Cuzco region [e.g., Idrovo 2000]).

1 Though see Sherbondy’s argument on how panaqa claims to lands around Cuzco served to order the landscape (1996).

3

estate and the state were separate systems or if the nobility’s resources in the heartland

were only nominally separate and made up the state economy in practice (cf. Conrad and

Demarest 1984).

While ethnohistory and settlement pattern archaeology are able to tell us much

about the natural resource and labor composition of estates (e.g., Covey and Amado

2008, Villanueva 1970a), we have not been able to examine the estate economy from a

site-based perspective yet. Palace excavations in rural Cuzco have focused on

reconstruction efforts rather than problem-based archaeology and archaeologists have

virtually ignored non-palace settlements on the estates. Ethnohistorical documents

provide vastly more details for reconstructing the lives of nobles. Meanwhile, there are

few early colonial descriptions of the lives of estate retainers settled outside the palace

complex. The research focus on monumental architecture and ethnohistory has skewed

our understanding of how the heartland worked to create wealth for the empire and its

royal families. Researchers have approached the royal estate and the palace complex as a

materialization of Inka dynasty, in which the ruler’s identity and political power can be

reconstructed through architectural analysis. To correct the bias, archaeologists are now

tasked with examining household-level and site-based non-palace contexts to examine the

economic underpinnings of the Inka economy and the panaqa’s role in it.

This project looks beyond the palace2

2 The estate palaces were monumental residences named for a certain panaqa (for cross-cultural identifications of palaces, see Flannery 1998; Christie and Sarro 2006; Evans and Pillsbury 2004). Palaces are defined as complex and private residences for rulers that may also play a public role (see Pillsbury and Evans 2004). Some rulers built more than one in rural Cuzco and they are only partially identified due to piecemeal reconstructions from archival and chronicle sources that continue to develop.

to reconstruct the building blocks upon

which this extensive empire was created and consolidated. While provincial Inka studies

4

have provided scholars with a new familiarity of the administration of diverse polities

within the empire, we have little archaeological information on the social and economic

realities of the heartland region. For the first time, there is an ample regional settlement

record for the Cuzco region that allows us to excavate individual sites associated with

rural estate economies (e.g., Bauer 2004, Covey 2006b, Covey et al. 2008). The Cheqoq

Archaeological Project (CHAP) builds upon that regional record and the extensive early

colonial chronicle and archival evidence today available.

5

Figure 1.1. Map of the limits of Inka influence, ca. 1532 (after Covey 2006b). Cheqoq (Maras, Urubamba) is located 30 km northwest of Cuzco. Plotted sites are referenced throughout the text.

Ethnohistoric sources indicate that the royal estate system3

3 By royal estate system, I refer to the larger mosaic of palaces, resources, and laborer settlements associated with particular panaqas. This broader approach to the estate looks beyond palaces and noble residences to include a perspective of the plethora of resources claimed by noble lineages (e.g., Covey 2006b, Niles 1999).

occupied a substantial

portion of the imperial heartland housed tens of thousands of laborers at certain points in

Inka history (see Betanzos 1996[1557]). However, archaeologists have not yet been able

6

to examine the domestic economies of those estate laborers. By excavating domestic and

production loci at the ancillary estate site of Cheqoq and couching the study within recent

regional and ethnohistorical frameworks, this project explores 1) the socioeconomic

condition, relative intrasite status, and domestic economy of estate laborers and

administrators living away from the palace complex and 2) the development of an

imperial political economy from the royal estate perspective. Excavations at Cheqoq

provide data on how the political economy was organized and what effects the economy

had on the producer population of the royal estate.

Prior to CHAP, there had been no formal excavations of non-palace sites on any

royal estate. Even data from palace excavations are scant and collected non-

systematically (e.g., Alcina 1970, Alcina et al. 1976, Burger 2004, Condori 2004). Those

studies provide valuable information on architectural layout and ceramic typologies, but

have not included holistic studies of all available artifact classes with a synthesizing

approach to reconstructing palace life. While ethnohistory may be able to fill in some of

the details on palace life for the Inka nobility, the lives of the estate laborers are not as

clear in the documentary research available. CHAP’s valuable contribution is a detailed

and systematic archaeological study of estate laborers and administrators and its

application to larger regional patterns of economic development.

7

Figure 1.2. Map of some rural palace complexes and the locations of sites mentioned throughout the text. Cheqoq is located 2 km southeast of the town of Maras. Base image is from Google Earth 2012 (©2012 Cnes/Spot Image, Image U.S. Geological Survey, ©2012 Google).

Archaeological analysis of the royal estate economy provides a unique

opportunity to separate the concept of political economy from private revenue sources

controlled by the nobility (and the surfeit of that produced revenue into state projects).

Anthropological concepts of the state have long hinged on the assumption of a centrally

administered economy that ideally promoted state interests (Fried 1967, Johnson and

Earle 1987, Service 1962). The political economy of states has been conceptualized as a

bureaucratically managed system channeled toward state growth and public projects. In

8

many ancient empires, however, we find the continuation of private interests

concentrated in the hands of the ruling elite and nobility. Archaeologists have struggled

to find ways to materially separate the ways in which increasingly centralized power is

decoupled by bureaucratic and administrative institutions (deemed the “state” or public)

versus private, elite-driven institutions (factional and private) (e.g., Baines and Yoffee

1998).

The Inka empire, in simplified terms, focused on state-administered labor tribute

economies in provincial regions, while the factional interests of noble lineages drove a

private estate-based economy in the heartland (D’Altroy 1994a, b).4

Overall, there has been a tendency among economic anthropologists to investigate

the impacts of factional- and elite- or noble-ruled economies in capitalist scenarios but

not as much in pre-capitalist settings. Research has also focused on historical

perspectives and has not been complemented by archaeology in most cases (e.g., Baker

2001, Bowie 2006). Part of the problem with examining factional economies in early

However, whether

those interests always coincided is not clear. For example, the ruling nobility would have

interests in line with “the state,” but other factions in certain periods may have conflicting

goals. Factional interests would certainly guide competition between noble lineages to

determine who benefitted the most from the economy (Brumfiel and Fox 1994), such as

the case of estate development. Few archaeological studies have been dedicated to the

“ground-truth checking” (Durrenberger and Martí 2006) of theoretical paradigms on the

factional effects on labor and economies.

4 Brumfiel defines factions as “structurally and functionally similar groups which, by virtue of their similarity, compete for resources and positions of power or prestige” (1994c: 4).

9

states and empires is a lack of archaeological evidence for first separating factional

interests and economies from each other. Another issue has been the inclination to

associate such research with Marxian ideologies and the weakening of the peasantry for

the strengthening of the elite. This study does not assume that one group must suffer for

the promotion of the other and does not depend upon the existence of markets and

capitalism in order to see non-state actors in the political economy. Rather, this study

models how imperial economies can grow through the contribution of factional economic

interests and what the effects may be on participating households, as opposed to

households not attached to noble patrons.

The Cheqoq Archaeological Project

In order to evaluate the royal estate and its relationship to the Inka political

economy, I excavated household groups, a storage structure, and a pottery workshop at

the site of Cheqoq in Maras (modern Urubamba province, Cuzco department, Peru). The

site was chosen due to the recent regional archaeological and ethnohistorical work

available for Maras and the broader Cuzco region. These archaeological and

ethnohistorical data allowed us to identify Cheqoq as an economic installation of the

estate with several production foci that operated in support of the noble descent group of

the emperor Wayna Qhapaq during the early 16th century. Moreover, Peruvian

reconstruction efforts in the storage sector of the site in the past decade made it clear that

Cheqoq was home to a large storehouse complex (at least 19 structures, each measuring

around 40 m in length) with good preservation of stratigraphic contexts and organic

material.

10

Recent settlement surveys of more than 2500 km2 in the larger Cuzco region have

identified more than 1700 Inka sites, including Cheqoq (Bauer 1992, 2004; Bauer and

Covey 2002; Covey 2003, 2006b, 2006c; Covey et al. 2008; Kosiba 2010). Among these

surveys was the Xaquixaguana Plain Archaeological Survey (XPAS), directed by Alan

Covey, which included the Maras Plain (Covey et al. 2008). This research showed that a

major settlement shift had occurred in Maras between the pre-Inka and Inka periods, in

which a dense and hierarchical pre-Inka settlement system was abandoned and replaced

by a completely new settlement pattern associated with Inka pottery.

In addition to the regional picture of estate development and migration under the

Inka, Covey’s project completed systematic and intensive surface collections at sites

throughout the survey region, including Cheqoq. The Cheqoq surface remains yielded an

exceptionally high percentage of decorated, polychrome Cuzco-Inka pottery compared to

other sites (64%). Cuzco-Inka pottery (and Inka style pottery in the provinces) has been

interpreted as an indicator of state or elite activities, as it correlates to high-status and

administrative contexts (Morris 1995). While Cheqoq does not have much surface

architecture and did not appear to be a palace or administrative center, the high

percentage of imperial style pottery initially indicated elite activity at the site. With that

in mind, Cheqoq was selected as a good site at which to assess the role of laborers and

administrators on the estate and how their domestic economies interdigitated with the

political economy.

While archaeology provided the material basis for selecting Cheqoq as the case

study for the estate economy, ethnohistory offered a complementary, yet problematic,

source of information for identifying the role of Cheqoq (see Burns 2010, Covey 2006a,

11

Julien 2000b, Urton 1990). According to some Spanish chroniclers, Wiraqucha Inka, the

eighth Inka, was credited with conquering the Ayarmakas and the Maras Plain

(Sarmiento de Gamboa 2007[1572], Cabello Valboa 1951[1586]). After that initial

alliance, the Ayarmakas allegedly refused to recognize Inka authority under the ruler

Pachakutiq. The Ayarmaka leader Toqay Qhapaq was taken as a prisoner to Cuzco,

Pachakutiq had most of the Ayarmakas killed, and their towns were destroyed (Sarmiento

de Gamboa 2007[1572]). The remaining Ayarmakas were separated and moved to other

towns around the heartland.

Archival sources indicated that subsequent to the forced abandonment of Maras

by the Ayarmaka, two royal lineages developed private estates around the Maras area:

Wayna Qhapaq (ADC, Urubamba. Leg. 1. 1594-1595;5

5 Thanks to Alan Covey for this citation and transcription.

Covey and Amado 2008; Toledo

1940[1571]b; Villanueva 1970a) and Thupa Inka Yupanki (Rostworowski 1962, 1970b;

Rowe 1997, 1985). A colonial-period ayllu called “Checoc” in the late 16th-century

resided in the reducción of San Francisco de Maras, where some retainer laborers

continued to serve Wayna Qhapaq’s descendants. An early colonial association with

Wayna Qhapaq’s descendants for Ayllu Checoc and retainers in Maras is found in several

sources. On the basis of the documentary record, I consider Cheqoq to be a settlement

serving Wayna Qhapaq’s estate that included some retainers (yanakuna), administrators,

and perhaps other labor specialists. While parts of Maras corresponded to Thupa Inka

Yupanki’s estate, Cheqoq (as a settlement and as a group of people) appears to be related

to Yucay and the Quispiwanka palace complex as part of Wayna Qhapaq’s royal estate

system.

12

The archaeological and ethnohistorical data pertaining to Cheqoq, the Maras

Plain, the re-settlement of the Ayarmaka ethnic group, and Wayna Qhapaq’s royal estate

together paint a picture of the Inka transitions around the site and the composition of

Cheqoq’s residents. With these baseline data, the Cheqoq Archaeological Project was

able to begin research with information on the character of the site and its inhabitants.

Site-based, horizontal excavations of production and domestic sectors of the site followed

by systematic analysis of all available artifacts provided information that cannot be

gleaned from settlement survey, architectural restoration, or ethnohistoric study. CHAP

thus makes significant new contributions to the material record of retainership, domestic

economy, estate production, and the relationship between the noble estate economy and

the public state economy.

Research design and analytical methods

As a large site with minimal surface architecture (22 ha in the Inka period) (fig.

1.3), the organization of Cheqoq was not clear prior to test excavations completed in

2009. The initial test season was followed by the extension of key areas in 2010 to reveal

horizontal organization of certain parts of the site. Overall, 252 m2 of excavations were

completed under the two-year project. Coming into CHAP, we knew the site had a

storage component, due to the Peruvian restoration efforts in that sector (Guevara 2004),

and that there were corrals at the southwestern extreme of the settlement. We also knew

that the high proportion of decorated Inka pottery in proximity to the storage complex

might indicate the presence of administrator households. We did not previously know

that we would encounter a pottery workshop.

13

Figure 1.3. View of Cerro Cheqoq (right) and base of Cerro Ahuayro (left) from the east. Reconstructed storehouses are visible on the far right at the foot of Cerro Cheqoq.

Through excavation, we sought to determine the nature of production and

consumption at Cheqoq and thus, on the estate as a whole. This economic approach

should, in turn, help illuminate the social and political relations between laborers and

administrators at Cheqoq and help us to understand how imperial policies and noble

economies affected household status and identity. Two sets of research questions were

addressed through excavation and contextualized within previous regional research: the

first questions bear on identifying and characterizing the resident population at Cheqoq

14

and its internal social and economic hierarchies. The second set of questions relates to

identifying and defining any production of wealth or craft goods at Cheqoq, whether

within households or in special facilities.

Research Question 1. What was the status and identity of the occupants of

Cheqoq? Can they be archaeologically differentiated as laborers and administrators?

According to early colonial documents (e.g., Toledo 1940[1571]a, b), the royal estate

system included specialist laborers and persons who oversaw groups of those laborers, all

laboring in the name of a panaqa. Once estate lands had undergone initial infrastructural

development, a re-settled laborer population was brought in to work the lands and

resources, including households from provincial and local ethnic groups. We can infer

that there were administrators either settled at Cheqoq or overseeing production from

another settlement. These administrators may have been promoted attached laborers or

members of the panaqa itself.

This research question was evaluated by reconstructing the production and

consumption activities of each household studied at Cheqoq. Production and

consumption were assessed vis-à-vis overall site production and consumption and any

regional patterns that could be reconstructed from previous research. Six domestic

terraces were excavated horizontally, ranging from 14 m2 to 41 m2 in area, with a total of

152 m2 of intensive excavations in the domestic terraces. When contextualized by the

excavations in production spaces (storehouse and pottery workshop) at Cheqoq (totaling

another 45 m2 of intensive excavation), we were able to evaluate domestic production,

site production, and the distribution of those staple and wealth goods.

15

Each household was defined by domestic terrace morphology. Separate structures

lying on a single terrace level were analyzed together as one household. We analyzed a

suite of archaeological remains relative to status and identity. These included lithics,

pottery, metals, special finds, bone, and macrobotanicals, as well as architectural

materials and layout and spatial organization. Tools for food production and procurement

were assessed relative to household subsistence. Faunal and macrobotanical assemblages,

in conjunction with intramural (within the domestic terrace) food preparation and serving

remains, were evaluated in terms of diet and cuisine. Unusual foods, fancy serving

assemblages, and food diversity were associated with elevated relative intrasite status and

fidelity to imperial Inka material culture. Objects of personal adornment and non-Inka

material goods were also analyzed for what they might reveal about labor hierarchies on

the estate, expressions of status, and the Inka assimilation of re-settled retainers toward

Cuzco-Inka identity. These multiple material correlates of relative status, relative Inka

identity, and labor hierarchies were compared between households at Cheqoq and, as

possible, with domestic assemblages from other Inka excavations in Cuzco and beyond.

Research Question 2. In addition to the storage of staple goods, what other goods

were produced at Cheqoq? If craft production occurred, did it take place within

households or were there special production facilities? Documentary sources indicate

that, in addition to surplus agricultural production and storage, another element of the

estate economy was craft production.6

6 See references to craft specialists associated with Wayna Qhapaq’s estate in Niles (1999: 131-32). These are largely based on the Toledan informaciones (Toledo 1940[1571]a, b).

While much of the ethnohistoric and regional

16

settlement evidence is related to intensive maize agriculture, there are also references to

various specialists associated with particular rulers, including craft producers.

One way to assess the separation or integration of the royal estate economy with

the state economy is through craft production spheres. Did the nobility produce its own

ceremonial and political goods in estate-based workshops or household production or did

it acquire those goods via state administrative means? Separate estate-based production

may indicate that the nobility operated some economic aspects apart from the imperial

system, replicating some functions in order to maintain control over their own resources

and use the goods for factional promotion.

In Inka provinces, researchers often find evidence of household-level textile

production. With the presence of corrals (indicating camelids were herded) at the site, we

expected to find tools such as spindle whorls and bone weaving tools that would indicate

fiber and cloth production. However, we instead found a special facility dedicated to

imperial style (polychrome Cuzco-Inka) pottery production. Comparison with known

pottery production loci in the Inka provinces and in other time periods in the Andes

allowed for a reconstruction of technology and the first analysis of how producers in the

Inka heartland made imperial ceramic wares, and for whom.

Organization of the dissertation

The dissertation begins with four chapters addressing in more detail the

theoretical, methodological, and historical frameworks for a study of the Inka royal

estate, followed by four chapters on excavation data relating to particular elements of the

estate economy and a final, concluding and synthesizing chapter.

17

Chapter 2 consists of an outline of how anthropologists have treated imperial

economies in both theoretical and material studies. I discuss select case studies that

provide comparative cases to Inka economic organization, noble economies, and

domestic economies. This chapter serves as an introduction to the theoretical issues at

stake in developing a framework for global comparison of the effects of factionalism on

economic development and the impact on households.

Chapter 3 covers the history of state development in the Andes, particularly as it

relates to economic institutions and their evolution. I discuss the idealized models of the

Inka state economy that archaeologists have relied upon by necessarily giving precedence

to ethnohistorical evidence. By looking at the a priori assumptions we make about Inka

economic organization, I argue that more comparative datasets are necessary from

provincial and heartland sites and from a variety of scales. I explore the evidence we have

for economic development in pre-Inka states and how they may have influenced

Tawantinsuyu. Chapter 3 breaks down the problem into three major themes: tribute

policies, the agropastoral economy, and craft and wealth economies, mirroring the

organization of the Cheqoq data chapters.

In Chapter 4, I address the history of how anthropologists and historians have

reconstructed the Inka empire. This chapter goes into more detail for the themes covered

in the previous chapter. I concentrate particularly on the organization of the imperial

heartland, as we have come to know it through ethnohistory and archaeology. The

Cheqoq project comes at a time when researchers have just completed several large

systematic survey projects and have made an abundance of archival data available. This

dissertation benefits from the extensive work done in the Cuzco region and the Inka

18

provinces since the 1980s. It is within that regional context that the organization of the

royal estate system has become apparent. The site of Cheqoq is located within Maras in

the province of Urubamba, 30 km northwest of Cuzco, which is within the area of the

recent Xaquixaguana Plain Survey region (Covey and Yépez 2004). However, the

majority of excavation projects in the Cuzco region have not been problem-based or

involved horizontal excavation. Furthermore, no royal estate study has included

excavations outside the palace complex. CHAP fills an important lacuna by making

available systematic excavation data that complement and augment the regional database

and expand our understanding beyond noble residential contexts. Current archaeological

and ethnohistorical reconstructions of the whole of Wayna Qhapaq’s Yucay estate, with

which Cheqoq is associated, are also described.

Chapter 5 outlines in greater detail the hypotheses and research questions that are

examined, as well as the methodologies employed in completing this study. This chapter

also includes an overview of the different excavation units intensively studied under

CHAP. They include six horizontally excavated households, one storehouse, and a

pottery workshop. Not all the areas excavated in the two years of CHAP are included in

the dissertation, so these descriptions are not exhaustive.

The first of the data-rich sections, Chapter 6, provides a review of agropastoral

production at Cheqoq. Residents of Cheqoq were provided with usufruct rights to lands

and resources for subsistence production so that some households could specialize in

pottery production or administer storage. The data for extramural (occurring outside the

household complex) production are presented from the six intensive domestic

excavations and the storehouse excavation. I describe the ethnohistorical and

19

archaeological evidence for camelid herding, hunting, crop cultivation, and crop storage,

at Cheqoq and in the Maras area. This chapter explores how agropastoral production at

Cheqoq would have articulated with the royal estate economy, within Wayna Qhapaq’s

Yucay holdings, and within the larger heartland region, and which households

participated in which activities.

Chapter 7 examines specialist pottery production at Cheqoq, focusing on data

from just one excavation area (Area U). I demonstrate how production was organized,

what technologies were employed, and how the workshop compares with other known

workshops elsewhere in Tawantinsuyu. This chapter provides the framework for

comparing provincial workshops to a heartland workshop in order to understand the

degree of conformity to the Inka technological style elsewhere. With these new data, we

can reconstruct the organization of craft production in the imperial heartland. While

researchers previously posited that production should be located within the Cuzco valley

under the watchful eye of the state and the nobility, Cuzco-Inka pottery production

instead seems to have occurred in a decentralized arrangement within the estate as well.

Production and distribution of the polychrome pottery at Cheqoq shows that rather than

direct control, there was indirect oversight of this important good, perhaps by

intermediate elite administrators serving as proxies for the panaqa. Cheqoq may be one

of many workshops that produced for local distribution within the royal estate system of

rural Cuzco.

The next two chapters focus on patterns of distribution and consumption at the

household level, within the context of production regimes already discussed. Materials

from the six horizontal domestic areas are discussed. Chapter 8 uses macrobotanical,

20

faunal, lithic, and ceramic data to address food processing and consumption. Using the

concept of luxury foods, I propose several directions for how we might reconstruct

differences of intrasite status and Inka identity across Cheqoq households by identifying

who prepared and who consumed different food types. The data indicate that several

social and economic factors contribute to household food and cuisine assemblages. For

now, it seems that there is at least one possible administrator household (Area Q) and

hierarchies are complex and multi-faceted among other households.

Chapter 9 presents data relating to the consumption of wealth, prestige, and craft

goods (non-subsistence goods) not already discussed in Chapter 8. Additionally, some

information on the production of craft goods in intramural contexts is described. Data sets

from metal, marine shell, pottery, and special contexts are discussed in terms of what

they may tell us about intrasite differences in status and identity. I find further support for

the conclusions drawn in Chapter 8. In comparing indicators of household status to

indicators of Inka identity, I show that the markers are not concomitant in all cases.

Chapter 10 concludes the dissertation, summarizing the data explored in each

chapter and the implications for reconstructing the Inka royal estate and the imperial

economy. I discuss what we now know about resource intensification in the heartland and

how it relates to a system of royal estate installations operated under the nobility. The

extent to which we understand the private and political economies to be interconnected in

the core at this point is explored. I discuss the livelihood of retainers and administrators

re-settled away from their homelands and injected into the noble economy. I conclude by

finding that the royal estate system drives the economic development of the core in the

empire’s consolidation phase, providing the basis of political power for royal factions,

21

legitimating imperial authority by providing for the ruler’s mummy and its retinue, and

producing major political tools for use in the Cuzco region (i.e., polychrome pottery).

The royal estate system makes up the noble economy – an economy ruled by factional

interests – that forms one element of the public-private composition of the Inka political

economy. The panaqas’ development of uninhabited and unimproved lands in the

heartland helped to create and sustain Inka expansion beyond the region. The laborers

and administrators working at the ground level to promote the royal estate seem to be in a

process of assimilation toward Inka identity and to materially manifest internal labor

hierarchies through a variety of status indicators.

22

Chapter 2

RECONSTRUCTING IMPERIAL POLITICAL ECONOMY

In order to contextualize Inka economic development and the case of Cheqoq in

particular, it is necessary to first begin from a more theoretical and comparative

perspective. This chapter will outline key issues in reconstructing state and imperial

economic development. I will discuss 1) how I conceptualize political economy and its

component parts, 2) explore the role of domestic economy under empires, and 3) discuss

the types of laborers and administrators that play key roles in economic production in the

private and noble economy.

The Inka economy was organized as a tribute-based mobilization economy in the

provinces, in which resources were funneled toward expansion, construction and

maintenance of infrastructure, intensification of local economic production, and

redirecting wealth to the capital region to maintain the social and political elite of Cuzco.

Meanwhile, in the imperial heartland of Cuzco, the royal estate system dominated the

landscape, with labor and goods mobilized toward factional interests that in turn

supported the empire’s political structure.1

1 State farms and estates, as well as large storage facilities linked to the state, can be found throughout Tawantinsuyu. State farms and estates were allegedly labored by a plurality of ethnic groups removed from their home territories to other lands to work for the Inka government or the Inka nobility. D’Altroy (2005) provides detailed maps of these production loci and obligatory re-settlements to the loci (idem: 278-79).

These patterns of economic growth and

23

consolidation can be found in other early imperial cases. Finding comparable institutions

in other empires, such as private estates, retainers, and craft specialists, can contribute to

better understanding the Inka case (see Smith and Peregrine 2012).

Major themes in studying pre-modern economies

Economies are outcomes of the behaviors of production, distribution, exchange,

and consumption. Anthropologists have long recognized the link between sociopolitical

development and economic control, specialization, and complexity like that seen in states

and empires (e.g., Brumfiel 1994a, Brumfiel and Earle 1987, Feinman and Nicholas

2004, Flannery 1972, Johnson and Earle 1987; for the classic view, see Childe 1951).

However, the most recent literature identifies the ebbs and flows of specialization and

exchange that do not correlate with increased sociopolitical complexity (Earle 2002: 83).

Imperial economies can have dramatic effects on local populations, sometimes

restructuring social and political organization at all levels of society and, in turn, are

influenced by changes and continuities in sociopolitical organization. Archaeologists find

much variability within imperial economies and between imperial economies, making the

task of formulating a global model of economic organization and its effects somewhat

difficult.

Models that rely upon framing economies with neo-evolutionary models of

complex societies can overlook variability at regional, community, and household levels

and neglect the diachronic changes in a single polity. Since the publication of key works

in social evolution by Service (1962, 1975), Fried (1967), and their contemporaries,

anthropologists have linked causes to processes of change in the archaeological record. In

24

this dissertation, the study of economy at the local scale is couched within regional

reconstructions to better conceptualize the changes and maintenance of imperial power

through economic institutions and practices, but this work does not characterize those

institutions as homogeneous across the empire (cf. Davies 1995).

Recent theoretical approaches to the state and political economy have shifted the

focus away from institutional structures and toward the less visible and less privileged of

society, who can provide access to the dynamic political and economic practices that

occurred within a polity (Johansen and Bauer 2011). Household archaeology and the

study of economy from site-based perspectives can answer this call in many ways,

complementing a strong material record of regional processes and statecraft (e.g.,

Brumfiel 2011).

In attempts to understand similarities and differences in state economies and their

underlying processes, social scientists in the past century largely approached pre-modern

economies from two opposing perspectives: substantivist and formalist. Substantivists

tried to separate “primitive” and “advanced” economies and argued that economics were

embedded in social relations (e.g., Murra 1980[1956]; Polanyi 1957[1944]). In the

substantivist view, economies cannot be studied globally or cross-culturally;

substantivists took a structuralist viewpoint (especially Sahlins 1972). There was also an

essential divide between non-Western, non-capitalist economies and the industrial,

capitalist, market-based economies of 18th-century European origin.

In contrast to Polanyi’s emphasis on differentiating economies as reciprocal,

redistributive, or market exchange-based (or, in social evolution terms: tribal, chiefly, and

state economies), formalist economists saw common threads running through both

25

primitive (or ancient) and advanced (or modern) societies (e.g., Firth 1967, Herskovitz

1952, LeClaire 1962). Formalists applied concepts of neoclassical economics, such as

supply, demand, maximization, and scarcity to studying pre-modern societies, and

viewed economies as the results of rational choices. With adjustments, formalists saw the

utility of modeling institutions in pre-modern economies in the same ways as modern

economies. The formalist perspective is characterized by less reliance on the dichotomy

of the industrial capitalist economy versus the archaic reciprocal or redistributive

economy.

The tensions between substantivist and formalist modes of interpreting ancient

economies are now less important to anthropologists. Smith and Schreiber have

described Polanyi’s trilogy of reciprocity, redistribution, and market exchange as

“outdated, simplistic, and inadequate” (2005: 197). As early as the 1980s, however,

anthropologists recognized the utility of borrowing from both schools of thought in

research. Hodder argued that “good” anthropology lies somewhere between the

exceptionalist views of Polanyi and his adherents and the liberal and institutionalizing

views of formalists (1982). I agree and emphasize that economic development cannot be

divorced from social relations, adopting that piece of substantivism that anthropologists

find so useful (see also Smith 2004, Trigger 2003). Earle, Hodder, and others refer to this

perspective as the “contextual approach to exchange” (Earle 1982; see also Feinman

2004).

26

Defining political economy and its components

In this study, I define the state as a sovereign political entity that is composed of a

bureaucracy supporting a ruling class’s economic, political, and ideological (which are

often interrelated) agenda through administration over a population (Johnson and Earle

1987, Wright and Johnson 1975). A state can be seen archaeologically through regional

integration of a territory with hierarchical management and sociopolitical stratification

related to centralized political power (Marcus 2008b, Marcus and Feinman 1998).

However, states are inherently unstable and inchoate forms of what anthropologists have

traditionally theorized them to be (A. Smith 2003, 2011). Statecraft is in constant

negotiation between ruling and local subordinate populations, and state economies are

especially susceptible to challenges to authority at variegated levels. While we may be

able to model bureaucratic ideals of state economies, we must remember that state

sovereignty is not always in effect at the ground level.

An important dimension of early imperial economies is that there were multiple

interests at stake that extend beyond what we might term “the state.” Rather, there are

both public (defined as bureaucratic institutions connected to the political center and

administered by the ruling elite) and noble economies functioning in parallel to make up

a state political economy. For early empires, state interests are made up by pursuits

including military conquest, alliance building, infrastructural development, promotion of

state ideology and religion, and other activities. Noble interests – and thus, noble

economies – were largely in line with state interests, with noble factions2

2 Brumfiel defined factions as “structurally and functionally similar groups which, by virtue of their similarity, compete for resources and positions of power or prestige” (1994c: 4).

competing with

27

each other for access to natural resources and labor pools. Noble economies can work in

parallel to the public economy, mobilizing resources toward political goals. However,

they can also have interests that conflict and compete with those of the state (Brumfiel

and Fox 1994).

The composition of all the above economies is here referred to as the political

economy. The political economy is defined as the broader umbrella under which a

plurality of economic spheres function to uphold and promote the state’s interests and

activities (Johnson and Earle 1987: 13). Political economy in complex societies entails

the uneven access the wealth by one individual or group over others. At issue, though, is

the fact that studies of political economy have dealt with the idea of a monolithic state

and a centralized effort to support state institutions in these uneven relationships with

subordinate peoples. In reality, the state is made up of “public” and “private” components

that can sometimes be seen archaeologically (Baines and Yoffee 1998; D’Altroy 1994 a,

b). The redistributive – or asymmetrically reciprocal -- qualities of political economies

are upheld by both administrative and bureaucratic institutions, but also private, factional

institutions. Separating the bureaucratic and centrally administered “state” economies

from factional and localized noble economies can offer a more comprehensive approach

to explaining how political economies functioned.

In the early stages of state development, hierarchical social and economic

conditions are established, enabling a centralized state economy to develop from elite

competition (Earle 1997, Brumfiel and Fox 1994). Brumfiel has stated that “the state

precipitates as an array of agencies dedicated to the extraction of wealth from primary

producers and the transformation of this wealth into political power” (1994a: 2).

28

However, pre-state social and economic hierarchies are not eradicated by the arrival of a

functional bureaucratic mechanism for extracting wealth from producers. Elite

competition continues in parallel to state administration and within it, contributing to the

growth and consolidation of state sovereignty. It is ideological power (along with

economic, military, and political power) that allows these factions to control an uneven

share of wealth in a polity, as described by Mann (1986; see also DeMarrais et al. 1996).

Within a state, political and economic power are understood to be centered with

certain individuals especially through the control of craft production (Costin 1996, Earle

1997, Peregrine 1991, Schortman and Urban 2004) and access to prestige goods (Helms

1993). An effective way of harnessing economic power for the elite and their factions is

through extracting surplus production out of the household and creating more efficient

labor organization overall (Stanish 2003: 25). The Mycenaean palace economy presents

one example of how political and economic power were physically centralized by a

faction and promoted elite individuals as they managed craft production and the

circulation of prestige goods (Voutsaki 2001). The Inka royal estates provide a

particularly compelling example of where factionalism continued alongside or within the

hierarchical and bureaucratic provincial economy (D’Altroy 1994b) and the production

and distribution of wealth goods played a critical role in promoting elite power. Other

early empires present comparative cases of factional-based economies functioning

alongside state political economies. A brief look at some examples helps to contextualize

the organization of the Inka estate economy.

The royal estate as an imperial institution for upholding elite hierarchies was not

exclusive to the Inka. Elite-dominated landed estates (worked by slave labor or

29

communal servitude) were common among early states and empires, especially in

expansionary phases when land is acquired rapidly. For the ancient Roman empire (ca.

2nd c. BCE to 4th c. CE), provincial economies were largely controlled by elite

landholders, as they had been prior to Roman expansion (by the end of the 2nd c. BCE).

Roman elites continued to make large purchases to create private estates for intensified

agricultural production and ancillary craft industries with slave labor (Peacock 1982,

Thompson 2003). Kehoe argued that wealthy elite landholders who operated private

estates with slave labor were able to use agricultural production to ensure their continued

social status, as landed estates were associated with prestige (2006).

Roman land tenure was reorganized in the imperial period to include several

types: imperial land (owned by the emperor and acquired through seizure or bequest),

city land, and many types of private lands (including large estates for the wealthy).

Originally, most land was ager publicus (public land), but this diminished as the state

increasingly granted plots to military veterans, civilian colonists, and purchasers. Temple

lands, at one time more prevalent, were largely confiscated by emperors over time

(Duncan-Jones 1990). These dramatic settlement shifts can be seen in the archaeology of

Roman provinces (e.g., Barker and Lloyd 1991). Like the Inka case, swaths of Roman

land and resources were placed in the hands of a few elites or under state control (e.g.,

Kehoe 1984), while being worked by a slave labor force, and later (in the 2nd c. CE)

tenant farmers (Kehoe 2006). Maintaining productive estates in the hands of the

government or wealthy landholders allowed agricultural production to focus on

maximization rather than risk reduction and take advantage of the tolerance for loss

allowed by managing lands through such institutions and individuals (Storey 2004).

30

Sherbondy has argued that the Inka placed the production heartland lands of Cuzco in the

hands of elite factions for the same reasons, with the panaqa overseeing the resources on

behalf of the larger state infrastructure (1996).

Turning to the Indian sub-continent in the 14th to 17th centuries CE, much of

southern India was politically integrated under the Vijayanagara empire. The imperial

consolidation of the region has been interpreted as a response by Vijayanagara rulers to a

need for surplus production to secure their political power (Palat 1987). In this

formulation, after the disbanding of the Delhi sultanate, local rulers attempted to pull

together an integrated economic network. They politically solidified southern India,

forming provinces and revenue-districts, in which named officials were charged with

taxation and the submission of a percentage to the state. Rulers asserted their rights to

tribute by claiming a “superior share” of the land, while commoners possessed the

“inferior share” (idem: 175). Southern India was reorganized into the hands of a few

powerful nobles for ostensibly political purposes (Morrison 2001).

Another way in which Vijayanagara rulers concentrated agricultural resources and

labor for political means was through the temple donor system. Hindu temples and their

noble donors invested in agricultural infrastructure outside the confines of a bureaucratic

state-centric arrangement. Functioning outside the public economy of taxes paid by

farmers and craftspeople to the state, religious and elite interests mobilized resources

under the temple donor system (Stein 1980). This allowed the state to indirectly benefit

from the tribute produced by temple-sponsored agricultural infrastructure and took some

pressure off the bureaucratic structure in administering agricultural works. The state, in

31

turn, promoted the temple economy by adding festival days to the annual calendar and

constructing infrastructure along pilgrimage routes (Palat 1987: 178).

Breckenridge has referred to the Vijayanagara temple economy as “social

storage” (1985), meaning that investment in temples gave special social privileges to

donors. As nobility, merchants, and villager groups (in public support of a king) donated

land and resources to temples, they reinvested in the productive landscape as

“development agencies” (ibid.). The temple economy contributed to the regional

subsistence and political economy, conferring honor and wealth on its patrons. While

donors were entitled to up to a quarter of the offerings to a Hindu temple’s god,

patronage by political nobles made certain temples more important (Stein 1989).

However, Morrison pointed out that scholars still do not know what type of laborers

initially built the temple projects. The answer to this could indicate whether the temple

served as a proxy for the state or functioned separately as a private economy (2001:

265).3

In the Vijayanagara rendition of the landed estate, religious and private interests

came together to promote the pet projects of individuals and factions. However, there was

More importantly, the “social storage” of the temple economy primarily benefitted

the elite patrons of temples. It provided them with access to more ecological zones and

better agricultural infrastructure and allowed for the creation of private property in the

name of Hindu temples.

3 Whether the projects were initially constructed by state labor or noble client labor should tell us whether the temple economy was directly administered by the state from the start. For the Inka case, rulers tasked state tribute laborers to come build the estates on a temporary basis, numbering in the tens of thousands (Betanzos 1996[1557]: Pt. 1, Ch. XLIII). Once the estate was constructed, the lands were settled and worked by permanent retainers attached to noble lineages rather than the same state-administered laborers initially called up for the construction project.

32

some economic and social benefit for the larger public as well, with investments in

infrastructure shared by both governing bodies and private groups. Resources appeared to

be nominally in the hands of just a few, but the development of temple economy appears

to have had effects beyond the nobility and religious institutions.

In 15th- to 16th-century Central Mexico, Aztec nobles established lord-houses or

teccalli in which various noble households formed a shared resource pool where

commoners labored as retainers. Teccalli have been described as the building blocks of

Aztec city-states (Chance 2000), along with a similar corporate institution – the calpulli.

Teccalli are not envisioned as entirely separate from Aztec public economy, but are one

type of economic sphere serving as the primary means of livelihood for the nobility.

Chance notes that “the heads of houses [teccalli] had the power to distribute land and

commoner retainers to work it to their noble underlings” (2000: 488). These lands were

granted to nobles in exchange for support.

Nobles enjoyed the labor of attached commoners, much like other estate

institutions where outside labor forces were incorporated (Brumfiel 1994b: 92). In this

type of estate, rulers used land grants as incentives to gain political support from

outsiders and bring them into the noble economy as producers. Brumfiel argued that this

strategy served to help Aztec nobles avoid the need for “individually negotiated patron-

client relationships” (1994b: 92), which tended to entail more costs and were less durable

than corporate-based teccalli. The commoner laborers – or mayeques – were sometimes

dispossessed of their lands (Carrasco 1989). They were required to remain in the service

of their noble lords and were exempt from regular tributary obligations (ibid.). Like the

yanakuna, our reconstructions of the services and lives of the mayeques are based on a

33

contradictory Colonial documentary record and, thus, archaeological reconstructions of

their lives are difficult.4

The three brief case studies above show some of the variability in imperial

strategies that promote private and elite revenues while supplementing or extracting from

potential sources of revenue that would otherwise be the domain of state bureaucratic

tribute. In late Republican Rome, the state began co-opting agricultural land from

uncooperative cities and distributing it to large estates owned by the elite (McGeough

2009). The reassignment of productive lands was ostensibly in order to produce a surplus

that could help feed an increasingly urban population. Roman landed estates were not

only a way for the wealthy to promote their social and political positions, but were also a

private solution to the instability of small-scale farming and the need for subsistence

goods. In the Vijayanagara case, on the other hand, we see that ideological sources of

power could be garnered by wealthy elites and special interests to ultimately provide

revenue for the public. Where the state was unable to maintain a bureaucratic taxation

system, the temple donor system created state tribute and elevated the sociopolitical

profile of its donors at the same time. Finally, for the Aztec case, we find that political

divisions were manipulated for the direct benefit of local elites. Whereas some

formulations of imperial tribute economies result in local elites siphoning off the tribute

revenue, the Aztec teccalli shows how state administrative institutions and noble factions

can work together to support the elite class.

However, they do demonstrate that early empires found similar

means of dealing with intensified production for the nobility.

4 Brumfiel has stated that mayeques cannot be differentiated archaeologically from other commoners (1991).

34

Staple and wealth finance among empires

For the purposes of this study, one useful approach to political economy is

through the heuristic device of staple and wealth finance (D’Altroy and Earle 1985, Earle

1997). These are defined as two forms of state revenue that are convertible. Staple

finance is localized, as staple goods cannot be easily transported long distances. Wealth

finance involves the long-distance movement of high-value goods. Staple finance can be

converted into wealth finance through the support of labor specialists, which, for

instance, can result in craft production.

Empires often intensify local production systems, redirect resources, and exert

administrative control over tribute and/or market systems. D’Altroy and Earle (1985)

specifically differentiate staple finance as fueled by surplus subsistence production of

goods such as food and clothing. They posit that staple finance is largely done through

control over labor pools that are decentralized and locally based. Staple finance generates

wealth that is used to finance expansionary campaigns and the militarized maintenance of

internal order since state storehouses are be filled with food along major transportation

routes. Staple finance involves the production through labor tribute or in-kind tribute of

subsistence good surpluses, quotidian clothing, and other low-value goods that are not

easily transported relative to value. Wealth finance is enacted through production and

acquisition of high-value portable goods that are either scarce, exotic, and/or require

specialized production. Wealth finance may involve precious metals, finely woven cloth,

or other valuables, depending upon the transport systems, environment, and intrinsic

values placed on goods within polities.

35

This dichotomy between wealth and staple goods is useful for understanding

finance strategies in early empires, including the efficient mobilization of resources and

labor. There are caveats, however. Not all goods fall clearly into one category or the other

(especially decorated pottery). On the Inka royal estate, the convertibility between both

types of finance is vital to understanding how to noble economy articulated with the state

economy. Intensive agricultural (staple) production was mobilized on the Inka estates,

just as craft goods were also produced within the estate system. While colonial

documents allege that the surplus crops were sent to Cuzco from the estates, we do not

know how they were used, whether for state administrative or ritual efforts, the support of

craft specialists, or the enjoyment of noble factions. An important issue that deserves

further study is whether estate staple finance could be converted to state finance of one

form or the other.

Defining domestic economy

States and empires have visible effects on household economies that are not seen

in egalitarian societies, as they rely upon the extraction of labor and tribute to sustain

political economies. The changes enacted by state development and state evolution that

are manifest in a political economy simultaneously affect the organization of domestic

economy (Hirth 1996). With political economy transitions, come uneven changes in

household economies that provide archaeologists with differential material assemblages

from one household to the next. Thus, a study of domestic economy can serve as a means

by which to reconstruct the effects of elite and state economies at the local level.

Production, distribution, and consumption from the domestic economy perspective

36

provide data on both input and output to see how the economy actually articulates with a

household (see Brumfiel 1994a).

Anthropological concepts of domestic economy are largely based on Sahlins’

domestic mode of production, which is derived from the concept of a market-less

economy (1972). It includes the “satisficing” needs of a domestic unit and it views

household members as altruistically complicit in production, distribution, and

consumption. Archaeologists have challenged many of Sahlins’ original tenets, creating

specific models of how the household functions as a unified economic unit, as many

economic units, or as supra-economic units across households.

The domestic economy is a result of “satisficing” (sensu Sahlins) household

subsistence and wealth needs that meet the tribute obligations of the larger political

economy, and that satisfy the social obligations of the wider community network,

whether kin-based or political in nature (Hastorf and D’Altroy 2001: 9). I define domestic

economy broadly as the production and consumption activities performed within and

across households. Production may be for intramural or intrasite consumption and may

include surplus that is later distributed outside the domestic unit or the site, as tribute-

based production (as opposed to satisficing production) are difficult to differentiate

archaeologically. Both subsistence economies and craft economies are included, if they

are organized at the household level rather than by a class of specialists for work that

occurs in a non-domestic setting. Domestic economy thus includes production and

consumption activities organized by the social household that can be reconstructed from

archaeological data.

37

With their robust data sets on domestic economies in two imperial provinces – the

Xauxa or Upper Mantaro region (UMARP) for the Inka (Costin and Earle 1989, D’Altroy

and Hastorf 2001, Earle et al. 1987) and the Morelos region for the Aztec (Smith 2010;

Smith and Heath-Smith 1994; Smith and Price 1994) – Earle and Smith (2012) synthesize

some of the ways that archaeologists see imperial effects on households. They compare

two empires that employed different strategies of provincial consolidation. Although the

Inka are on the “territorial empire” end of the territorial-hegemonic continuum, with

direct control in many provinces (D’Altroy 1992), and the Aztec are conceived of as

more “hegemonic” (Berdan et al. 1996), the impacts on domestic labor regimes as seen

through archaeological study appear to be quite similar. According to their study, direct

extraction of labor under the Inka and indirect extraction under the Aztec (albeit with

more direct local extraction as well) left the same material signatures at the household

level, which brings up issues of equifinality (Earle and Smith 2012). One solution is to

couch the study of domestic economies within multi-scalar approaches that include non-

domestic contexts (such as production loci) and regional frameworks, as done in this

dissertation. With the addition of non-domestic material remains, we can outline our

expectations for tribute-based or subsistence-based production and consumption patterns.

Comparing different imperial cases and their effects on households is a complex

task for archaeology due to differences in economic and social organization at imperial

and local levels. Commercialization and the institution of private and semi-private

merchants among the Aztecs, for example, created some opportunities for a variety of

statuses to have access to imported goods, though some goods were restricted by

sumptuary laws (see Hirth 1998). Imported and high-value goods in domestic settings are

38

sometimes interpreted as markers of elevated status in pre-modern economies. The

distribution of obsidian among the Aztec, for example, has been investigated through

provenance research, though even after a decade of sampling, it remains unclear whether

domestic economies were controlled by elite, local, or state institutions (Neff et al. 2000).

Obsidian sourcing does show at least 90% of the material in households came from one

source (Pachuca). However, a model of integrated regional production and distribution

from the state level still does not apply. In Tepeapulco households, for example, almost

all obsidian came from Pachuca, but local workshops used obsidian from the Paredón

source. Elite residences in Otumba also consumed obsidian from Pachuca, but rural and

non-elite households consumed obsidian from a local source (Braswell 2003). A source

of the murkiness in the reconstruction of the political economy is that exchange in the

Aztec empire occurred through tribute, long-distance trade, and marketplaces. In many

provinces, all three of these had an impact on local domestic economies (Smith and

Heath-Smith 1994).

In reconstructing exchange systems it can be difficult to distinguish the forms of

distribution that are seen through consumption patterns alone. These challenges highlight

a limitation to the task at hand for the royal estate. Future provenance studies on craft

goods from several sites in the Cuzco region are necessary to definitively determine to

whom estate goods were distributed. These data would enable us to approach the

distinction and integration of noble and public economies within the heartland in a more

regional and empirical manner than we are able to do with excavations alone.

While excavation data can complement historical information to reconstruct the

impact of noble economic institutions on domestic economies, there are unfortunately not

39

many comparable archaeological studies for world empires. Much work has been devoted

to the impact of state tributary policies on domestic economies (e.g., Brumfiel 1996,

D’Altroy and Hastorf 2001, Wattenmaker 1994), but little covers the domestic economies

of subordinates in relation to imperial nobles. Moreover, the historical record has proven

useful in assessing domestic economies of subordinates in relation to elites and nobles

(e.g., Baker 2001, Bowie 2006), yet has not been meaningfully evaluated in concert with

archaeology. The excavations at Cheqoq will contribute to developing a global database

on domestic economies within estates and begin to address this lacuna in the

archaeological record.

Socioeconomic hierarchies in imperial economies

Among ancient empires, there are common threads of socioeconomic statuses and

labor divisions and their contributions to noble and state economies. There are also

commonalities in how local populations respond to imperial rule, whether in the

heartland or provincial regions. The concept of “intermediate elites” (sensu Elson and

Covey 2006) is useful in discussing the people contributing to an imperial economy

within the social strata between the ruler and commoners. These individuals may hold

positions of leadership, but not be members of a noble lineage. They fill administrative

needs while binding producer populations to the state or the noble sponsor/owner.

Intermediate elites may ensure the enactment of policies made at higher levels to promote

imperial authority at local levels.

The elite and non-elite population attached to the nobility in estate systems creates

an unresolved tension where individuals or factions are able to control certain sectors of

40

the political economy and thus, the political sphere (Schortman and Urban 2004: 208).

The Inka royal estate is an example of where this plays out: the nobility’s control over

resources was used to legitimize their rule and perpetuate their lifestyle. At the same

time, those political exploits were dependent upon a class of laborers for both staple and

wealth goods production. An assessment of domestic economy and special production

facilities within these systems can reveal the level of control over resources exercised by

subordinates at the ground level and how they may have seized opportunities to acquire

goods beyond their station via estate production. In this way, intermediate elites and their

constituent laborers may promote factional power or limit it through their collective

control over production and consumption of resources.

Studies of antebellum plantations and slaves have approached the problem of

differentiating laborers and administrators on estates in useful ways. While not within the

domain of archaeological theory of empires, these perspectives are nonetheless

applicable. In a study of plantation households, Otto (1980) argued that the dichotomy of

elite and subordinate or overseers and slaves could be reconstructed through artifact

analysis. He proposed that status and occupational differences within the slave class

could be visible via quantitative and qualitative analyses, as differences were materially

quantitative and qualitative (1984).

Orser took this notion further, and proposed that “both the external economic

relations of the planter in society and the internal power relations at the plantation do

have material correlates that can be identified in archaeological deposits” (1988: 743). He

noted that cases with the benefit of historical information would be particularly fruitful

for understanding divisions of class, status, and ethnicity in past societies (idem: 735).

41

However, Orser emphasized that the internal differences in status are the most interesting

to the anthropologist, as power between masters and subordinates are revealing in

reconstructing plantation economies (2001). Archaeologists studying similar cases of

administrators and laborers on estates have yet to apply these concepts in imperial cases,

but they are appropriate for the study undertaken in this dissertation. A comparative

analysis within a subordinate estate laborer community and between the community and

others (of similar function or not) can accomplish what Orser suggests in parsing out the

social and economic relationships between groups that lead us to a broader understanding

of political economy.

The internal differences among subordinate laborers and intermediate elites

explored in this dissertation include not just status and labor hierarchies, but also

differences in identity. In order to understand the impacts on domestic economies and

household practices among estate residents, I evaluate the assimilation to imperial

identity through material culture analysis (see Hodos 2010). Subordinate households and

their administrators, especially those who have been re-settled from other regions, should

have material markers of identity within the domestic sphere. While we may not be able

to link non-local identities with particular geographic origins (cf. Lightfoot et al. 1998),

household excavations may reveal a transition toward using Inka goods. This process of

assimilation is treated as intransitive, in which migrant populations are active subjects in

the change toward the imperial identity (Brubaker 2004: 129).5

5 I invoke “identity” as a concept of sameness among members of a group or category. Brubaker and Cooper call this particular use of the identity concept a “collective phenomenon,” where “sameness is expected to manifest itself in solidarity, in shared dispositions or consciousness, or in collective action” (2000: 7).

Assimilation to an

42

imperial identity is assessed in order to reconstruct the degree to which economic, social,

and political integration occurred on an estate and how subordinates related to or

differentiated themselves from their noble patrons.

Comparing imperial economies

In the above case studies, we see that there is great economic variability within

early empires but there are common threads in the material outcomes of state and noble

economies. Archaeology expands our understanding of imperial economies beyond those

known historically, providing models of material correlates for economic activity only

found in the archaeological record and allowing for a better comprehension of the

internal heterogeneity of economic policies (e.g., Hodge 1998, Morrison 2001, Smith and

Heath-Smith 1994).

The study undertaken here is especially important to reconstructing the imperial

economy from the perspective of the non-elite. As Schreiber has pointed out, much of the

last century of archaeology focused on the “temples-and-tombs” approach, which favored

monumental sites and elaborate mortuary contexts instead of domestic archaeology and

sites without impressive architecture (1999). This project allows us to step outside the

palace and the state administrative center and gain a fresh perspective on how the Inkas

promoted their imperial project on the ground level. Site-specific, comprehensive

excavation projects (especially using domestic contexts as the basic unit of analysis for

production and consumption) have the potential to demonstrate how imperial strategies

change over time and space and what the impacts on households were.

43

This chapter explored some of the global dynamics of imperial economies and the

laborers and administrators who worked to sustain those economies. In the following

chapter, we examine the development and consolidation of state economies in the

Andean region in particular. The regional review provides the context for Inka state

development after a millennium of statecraft in the Andes. This chapter and the next

operate together to contextualize how the royal estate economy and production and

consumption at Cheqoq contributed to a larger political economy in broad perspective.

The results of this dissertation provide comparative anthropologists with an in-depth

excavation study of imperial economic policies at the household, workshop, and

storehouse level. CHAP can serve as a model for how to identify and investigate the

domestic economies of subordinates within noble institutions in other imperial cases.

44

Chapter 3

ANDEAN STATE ECONOMIC POLICIES AND INSTITUTIONS

In the Late Intermediate Period (LIP, ca. 1000-1400 CE), a Cuzco valley-based

polity slowly developed alliances in the surrounding regions through elite marriages,

diplomacy, and force (Bauer and Covey 2002). Settlement patterns shifted as economies

were re-organized and re-directed towards Cuzco, the emerging political, social, and

economic center of the region by the 13th century. The Cheqoq project contributes to our

understanding of these transitions while also addressing site level dynamics. This chapter

reviews some aspects of pre-Inka and Inka statecraft in the Andean region, in order to

contextualize the reconstruction of the royal estate economy in the imperial heartland vis-

à-vis antecedent patterns and provincial Inka economies.

States that developed prior to Inka expansion include the Moche, Wari, Tiwanaku,

and Chimú, among others (figs. 3.1 and 3.2). There were multiple centers of state

development in the Andes and regular fluctuations in statecraft over the centuries,

beginning as early as the Moche polity (or polities; see Quilter and Castillo 2010). The

functionality of state institutions such as labor tribute systems, extra-household surplus

storage, and centralized production endured as long as they served different groups over

time and space, but there is also archaeological evidence that earlier states influenced

later ones (see Covey 2008). The continuity of economic policies among Andean states is

45

still debated and archaeologists find challenges in linking states over time in process-

based ways.

Figure 3.1. Approximate chronologies of Andean polities discussed in this chapter

46

Figure 3.2. Core regions of Andean states discussed in this chapter

The Inka are a case of secondary state formation, having followed a Wari imperial

presence in the Cuzco region. The Wari established a colony in the maize-producing

lands south of the Cuzco Basin, settling one of many colonies beyond their Ayacucho

core. However, the administrative consolidation of that colony may not have been

47

realized since it appears the centrally planned site of Pikillacta was not utilized to its

fullest extent (McEwan 2005) and local settlement patterns beyond Pikillacta and the

nearby residential center of Huaro were not disrupted with Wari arrival (Bélisle and

Covey 2010). There was extensive settlement in nearby Huaro marking the significant

physical presence of a Wari colony in some form (Glowacki 2002; Maeve Skidmore,

personal communication 2012). However, outside the immediate vicinity of the would-be

Wari administrative center of Pikillacta in the Lucre Basin in the Cuzco region, Wari

presence is archaeologically ambiguous in pre-existing village sites (Bélisle and Covey

2010). Ayacucho Wari-influenced pottery did not saturate local settlements in the rest of

the Cuzco region in the Middle Horizon, as one would expect with the establishment of a

nearby directly administered colony.

While Wari presence is indisputable and would have had an impact on

sociopolitical development in the Cuzco region and perhaps influenced later state

strategies, it is important to look beyond the Cuzco region. The Inka adapted statecraft in

each region according to local conditions, and employed a mosaic of strategies on the

spectrum from direct to indirect. The flexible and local strategies taken on by

Tawantinsuyu resulted from continuities and discontinuities with earlier and

contemporaneous states in the regions of the Inka provinces, with the remnants of their

economic institutions left on the landscape from earlier collapses and in full force when

under contemporaneous rule (e.g., the Chimú).

Widespread trends in state economies (including the Andes) over time and space

include long-distance procurement of resources and manufactured goods, whether

through trade or colonization; large-scale labor mobilization for public works such as

48

irrigation, agricultural terracing, and monument construction; and the redistribution of

resources administered by a ruling elite (Feinman and Marcus 1998). While aiming to

reconstruct larger economic themes, it is important to look at subsistence economies and

craft or wealth economies through both top-down and bottom-up perspectives. Viewing

the regional case and simultaneously seeing the household as the basic unit of production

and consumption allows us to envision how policies shape practices and how the local

experience formulates or challenges state order. The following sections outline economic

policies in Andean states to better understand the local dynamics and state-level strategies

that shape these policies and to envision the temporal and spatial diversity in those

policies.

Tribute organization

Labor extraction has been treated as the main organizational tool of Andean states

by archaeologists. The Inka and their predecessors built upon ayllu (kin group)

organization to create administrative units with different types of labor pools directed

toward the state or noble sponsors. In the Andes, the ayllu consists of multiple

households that recognize linkage to a common ancestor and who control resources

together from multiple ecological zones. This is also known as the vertical archipelago

model (Murra 1972). As the building block of social organization, an ayllu has been

defined in many ways. Urton offers an inclusive definition, noting that the ayllu may be

“a ‘group,’ or unit, of social, political, economic, and ritual cohesion and action” (1990:

22). The ayllu was the basic element of Andean social organization at the time of Spanish

49

Conquest and afterward. Archaeologists have treated the ayllu as the enduring form of

pan-Andean social organization prior to the Inka as well.

For the Inka case, using chronicles and archival sources, Murra proposed that the

state took over ayllu-based relationships, leaving local subsistence economies relatively

untouched and extracting the same labor for an overall political economy of the empire

(1980[1956]). Inka labor tribute – the mit’a obligation, a form of corvée labor – was used

to mobilize provincial economies. The basic unit of labor tribute for the Inka was the

head of household, or a married male of adult age. Although Murra has emphasized that

tribute was framed in terms of labor rather than goods (1995), in some exceptional cases,

raw items were extracted from a provincial economy, but not prepared goods. There were

two distinct attributes under the Inka system: the tribute requirement was always outlined

in terms of labor energy or time rather than quantity of goods, and the Inka allegedly

provided their tributaries with the necessary raw materials to produce goods such as cloth

(Murra 1968, 1995: 60).

By the time of the Inka, there were several categories of labor tribute and many

strategies for managing it on a large scale. Some of those strategies may have resulted

from adaptation to local dynamics. Highland economies were possibly administered

through a decimal system that largely left kin networks in place and gave local elites

socioeconomic power through titles (Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1609]: Book II, Chapter

5; Julien 1988). This system was used in regions under the Inka’s direct control to

organize tributary households via elite administrators. Beyond the south-central

highlands, later Inka rulers began conquests in further-reaching regions with

sociopolitical structures very different from the highland polities. Part of this expansion

50

involved increased mobilization and migration of populations as labor resource pools

(mitmaqkuna). Kin-based systems were deconstructed by pulling groups into state and

estate production enclaves in some cases, while in others local networks were left in

place under the Inka administrative system.

Ethnic groups or multi-ethnic provincial state administrative units were assigned

mit’a labor based on their location and expertise, working a certain period of time each

year for the state (and accounted for by household or tributary). Some were sent away

from their homelands for service as mitmaqkuna (D’Altroy 2005; Espinoza 1983;

Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1606]: Book VII, Chapter 1; La Lone and La Lone 1987;

Morris and Thompson 1985: 160-2; Rowe 1982; Wachtel 1982). Within this rotational

labor system of mitmaqkuna (not involving permanent resettlement), there were also

specialists or kamayuqkuna. These laborers served various functions, from administrators

to weavers to herders (Falcón 1918[1567]; see also Covey 2009a).

The tributary type mitmaq includes yanakuna; both were types of laborers

transplanted from their homeland to work for the Inka in some fashion, whether for the

empire or for a noble lineage. Some mitmaqkuna were transplanted seasonally or

temporarily, while yanakuna were permanent retainers who lost ties to their home region

(see Rowe [1982], who treats yanakuna as a sub-group of the mitmaqkuna). Yanakuna, as

permanently re-settled laborers from near or afar, were housed in small towns adjacent to

estate resources, according to archival sources (Covey et al. 2008).

While labor tribute can be identified archaeologically, the specific labor

categories are more difficult to discern from the material record (e.g., Costin and

Hagstrum 1995; for an example outside the Andes, see Brumfiel 1996). Some studies of

51

pre-Inka states view state finance through the lens of ethnohistorically known Inka

policies. Evidence for organized labor tribute under Andean states has been demonstrated

for the Moche, but through the Inka lens. In a study of makers’ marks on adobe bricks

used in the construction of the Huacas Moche on the north coast, Moseley found that

there were at least one hundred unique marks on the millions of adobes making up the

waq’as that correlate with construction episodes (Hastings and Moseley 1975, Moseley

1975). By analogy with Inka labor tribute, Moseley suggested that corvée labor had a

long history in the Andes and that mit’a structured temple construction labor. More

recently, Moche scholars continue to assume Inka-style labor organization functioned in

the past as a way of using state reciprocity to extract work from the commoner population

(e.g., Billman 2010: 198-99).

In examining the evidence that possibly supports an analogue in the pre-Inka

states, Janusek and Kolata (2004: 423) likened the Tiwanaku colony in Moquegua to the

mitmaqkuna enclaves of the Late Horizon (see also Goldstein 2005). Supporting that

argument, Blom and her colleagues’ research on non-metric traits established a

significant genetic relationship between populations in Moquegua and the highland

Katari valley. These researchers argued that experienced farmer groups (specialists) were

sent by the state to the coast on labor assignments similar to the Inka mitmaqkuna (Blom

et al. 1998). Highland products such as chuño and camelid meat were recovered at Omo

in Moquegua, indicating reciprocal relations with the heartland in which maize was sent

back to the altiplano and high-altitude products were provided to the coastal colony,

according to their study. In this scenario, colonization would not be for the purpose of

provisioning the state’s efforts in the same way as with the Inka state farms, for instance.

52

Furthermore, it is difficult to find material correlates of state-directed re-settlement to the

Moquegua region in the absence of documents. Migration may have occurred in ways

other than top-down directives from the altiplano. Their reconstruction of the coastal

labor assignment model is akin to Murra’s vertical complementarity model rather than the

essentially uneven exchange involved in Inka practices of labor tribute.

For the most part, pre-Inka tribute organization is inferred through the presence of

large-scale irrigation systems on the coast (e.g., Billman 2002, for the Moche) the

appearance of monumental building projects and new administrative colonies in the

highlands (e.g., Glowacki 2002, for the Wari). Site-based studies are, however, better

equipped to address the details of tribute organization. Domestic archaeology in the

Andes generally has assessed production debris to determine the intensity of and

participation in certain types of tribute for the state. For the Wari, Nash and Williams

studied frequencies of weaving equipment to evaluate cloth tribute (2009). For the

Chimú, Cutright looked at maize cob to kernel ratios to determine that residents of

Pedregal were obligated to send maize to higher-order settlements under imperial rule

(2009).

In the pre-capitalist Andes (Morris 1998, Stanish 1997), labor tribute is assumed

to be the basis of unequal exchanges and power relationships in states. While we can see

it through native and Spanish accounts in the early Colonial period, we also find evidence

from ethnohistory and archaeology that the strategies of organizing labor tribute were

variable for the Inka. In parts of the far north, Inka colonists mostly remained separate

from local populations, who resisted Inka rule and maintained their own local exchange

systems (Salomon 1986). Around Quito, Ecuador, Salomon suggested that the Inka

53

imposed a hierarchical economic structure over local chiefs (1986). He posited that some

action was taken by the state to prevent traders from operating in the incorporated

territories and/or manage their activities (1987). The Inka were able to complete imperial

incorporation at least superficially in regions such as the Cañari homeland near

Tumibamba (Ecuador) by forcibly resettling portions of these reluctant populations far

from home and integrating many into yanakuna and mitmaqkuna enclaves (see also

Schjellerup 2005: 125-39 on the Chachapoya).

The north coast Chimú area, typically understood to be “indirectly ruled” by the

Inka (Netherly 1977) though still under investigation, now appears to be a region where

the Inka presence can be detected by gradual changes in economic organization. Ramírez

found historical data that indicate the Chimú were already under decimal administration

when the Inka arrived (1990). She also argued that little changed economically for the

Chimú population, though tribute was sent to Cajamarca rather than the Chimú capital of

Chan Chan under the Inka. The same land boundaries remained but were transferred from

Chimú rulers to the Inka. This pattern of pre-existing decimal organization has not been

recorded archaeologically, and there is no clear way to identify it materially.

The southernmost regions under Tawantinsuyu’s influence experienced indirect

governance, according to archaeologists (D’Altroy and Schreiber 2004: 270). Mining and

herding intensified around regional centers, but there is no evidence for the same decimal

administration of labor reported in the central highlands (Julien 1982, 1988). González

and Tarragó proposed that the Inka presence was stronger in northwest Argentina than

previously thought, while the Inka simultaneously left many indigenous economic

institutions in place (2004). Local elites continued to mediate between local institutions

54

and the state. Ceramic workshops produced goods in the same local style, but

incorporated some Inka iconography. Local metal production also remained the same,

but included gold. In this way, the Inka allowed the region’s local economy to operate

alongside the state’s extraction of raw materials. In the Calchaquí valley, also in

northwestern Argentina, D’Altroy and colleagues’ research found the same economic

patterns in addition to the installation of large-scale state farms that concentrated tribute

labor around intensified resource production (2000). Excavation of households in this

area revealed that locals continued the same diet as before, although metal extraction

intensified there as well.

Conquered Inka populations were resettled in places like Cochabamba (Bolivia)

where surplus agricultural production was feasible, with the goal of more effectively

provisioning the army and stocking state storehouses (Gyarmati and Varga 1999, La

Lone and La Lone 1987, Wachtel 1982). The forced resettlement of populations as

mitmaqkuna and yanakuna helped prevent rebellion, made use of more productive

regions, and provided critical supplies where they were needed. Some of these policies

seem to have been employed by earlier states, but the details of pre-Inka organization are

not as clear in the absence of documentary evidence.

Murra has suggested that, in general, the Inka co-opted local labor patterns and

elaborated them within the empire (1980[1956]). Labor colonies such as those at

Cochabamba and the organization of the royal estates in the heartland diverge from this

strategy, displacing and importing labor from other local systems and re-directing it to

production enclaves. Ethnohistorical records are useful in parsing out such details of

labor tribute organization and pointing to specific hierarchical mechanisms such as

55

decimal organization that are invisible archaeologically (Julien 1982). However,

archaeology is limited in its ability to recognize for whom labor is executed at the

household level and beyond. The best studies of tribute organization seem to be the

diachronic ones that make assumptions about policies based upon material evidence for

the intensification of craft or staple economies upon arrival of a state power (e.g.,

Cutright 2009, Earle and Smith 2012). Archaeological research at the level of the

household thus provides the needed data for identifying state-mandated tribute changes,

even though changes in labor cannot always be seen in the domestic sphere. Data from

administrative and public architectural compounds and regional patterns of exchange in

conjunction with the domestic are needed to resolve this issue. These studies have been

successful in the provinces, but more research along those lines is needed in the

heartland, which appears to dramatically diverge from what is found elsewhere.

Agropastoral economic policies

Subsistence economies did not merely become intensified for larger scales of

redistribution under the Andean state. Rather, polities adapted to local conditions in each

case to meet the demands of state finance. Building and maintaining infrastructure in

Andean states resulted in the fostering of a hierarchical leadership system that further

promoted complexity and state development. These systems are seen as controlled by the

elite (both nobility and non-noble political elites) and focused on extraction of labor for

surplus production from a commoner population.

Andean agricultural production has received particular attention within the

coastal states, especially the Moche (Billman 2002) and Chimú (Pozorski 1987) due to

56

the archaeological visibility of irrigation systems. However, hydraulic agriculture was

also a viable risk-reduction strategy in the highlands, providing the basis for the growth

of emergent states and later expansion and colonization of fertile valleys outside state

cores (Covey 2009b). Agropastoral economies were especially intensified through maize

agriculture (Owen 2009) and camelid herding (Bonavia 2008), forming the basis for

political economies in both coastal and highland settings. Subsequent shifts in settlement

patterns can be seen through the movement of communities nearer to productive and

improved lands and in the establishment of newly constituted producer enclaves. Under

both the Wari and the later Inka, for example, there are documented cases of settlement

shifts from the higher altitude tuber and herding zones (3600-3800 masl) to the lower

maize-producing zones below 3300 masl in some regions, but not all. Directly through

obligation or by nature of shifting tribute policies – or due to local agency in choosing to

live near fields (Covey 2006b) -- populations were sometimes re-settled near maize-

producing zones in order to shift the local subsistence economy toward surplus

production and staple finance (cf. Kosiba 2010). Shifts to lower elevations or from

pastoralism to agriculture with the arrival of state-level organization have been

documented through settlement survey for the Wari empire in the Sondondo Valley

(D’Altroy and Schreiber 2004: 277) and Mantaro Valley (Browman 1970) and for the

Inka in the Mantaro Valley (Hastorf 1990) and the Vilcanota Valley (Covey 2006b), for

example.

Addressing the growth of the southern Moche state, Billman argued that irrigation

management itself was not responsible for the emergence of political leaders (2002).

Rather, he suggested that the new availability of surpluses provided the resources needed

57

for certain leaders to gain prominence in society. In this way, complexity increased with

Moche farming surpluses as the catalyst for growth. Territorial expansion was then viable

as Moche leaders took over the means of production, including the labor pool.

Considering the altiplano-centered Tiwanaku polity, the raised field agricultural

system of the Lake Titicaca Basin has long been debated. At issue is when the systems

were built and by whom, which in turn carries important implications for whether

Tiwanaku statecraft was driven by this economic focus. Janusek and Kolata found that

raised fields in the Katari valley underwent major construction episodes during Tiwanaku

statehood (2004), supporting Stanish’s idea (1994) that a tempered version of the

hydraulic hypothesis (Wittfogel 1955) applies to this case.

At the same time, however, pre-Tiwanaku state production strategies continued,

such as dry farming and sunken basin farming (Kolata 1986). After the fall of a

centralized Tiwanaku state, those raised fields were maintained on a much reduced scale,

presumably under ayllu organization, but the state level of intensification did not

continue. Erickson (1993) and Graffam (1992) disagree that the hydraulic hypothesis

(1955) applies in this case, finding use of the raised fields long before and after the

Tiwanaku fluorescence. Determining when and how subsistence economies changed

around the Tiwanaku capital will help to clarify the economic strategies of the period and

will provide additional information on the levels of elite economic control that were

exerted over subsistence production.

Under the Inka empire, an intensified subsistence economy, fueled by hydraulic

agriculture, not only ensured the state’s initial development and competitive position in

the Cuzco region, but it also aided the continued economic success of descendants of

58

royal lineages. Tawantinsuyu appropriated the gamut of agricultural modes of production

already in process prior to Inka rule in order to sustain the imperial economy (Covey

2009b). If local incorporated economies were already producing a surplus, as on the north

coast, they were left in place with Inka political structures placed on top. As the Inka

expanded, though, there were areas where significant labor investments took shape in less

developed areas. For instance, there is evidence for major canalization projects in the

Cuzco region under Inka rule (Betanzos 1996[1557]: Part I, Ch. XLIII; Farrington 1983)

and the Vilcanota Valley especially was an area of concentrated high-yield maize

production that spurred imperial growth (Bauer and Covey 2002: 857) as well as the

growth of the royal estate economy (Covey 2006b).

Intensified agricultural production affected different populations in several ways.

Covey, for example, demonstrates that once valley-bottom maize agriculture developed

out of a mixed horticulture economy for groups in the Vilcanota Valley, populations were

inclined to move to lower elevation settlements, drastically affecting the regional pattern

(2006b; cf. Kosiba 2010). In Xauxa, Hastorf found through stable isotope analysis, that

more men had access to maize than women under Inka rule, as contrasted with the pre-

Inka period (1991). She further found that maize consumption leveled between etically

identified commoner and elite households, indicating that when the Inka garnered

political control over the region, they decreased the relative economic power of the local

elite (Hastorf 2001: 172; see also Costin and Earle 1989). Overall maize production

appears to have increased as a response to demands of the labor tribute economy.

Hastorf’s research demonstrates empirically that Inka occupation not only affected

political economies but also the household subsistence economy, shifting agricultural

59

production toward maize, at least in the Xauxa case. On the other hand, Sandefur’s

analysis of faunal remains from the same sites indicated continuities in access to camelid

herds under the Inka, with no major change in consumption patterns (2001: 196). Further

high-resolution household analysis is necessary to understand these transitions and

continuities on an empire-wide scale.

As the Inka empire consolidated particular regions, intensified agricultural centers

were established in low-risk areas such as Cochabamba (Gyarmati and Varga 1999) and

the Urubamba Valley (Covey 2006b), and were staffed by permanent retainer laborers.

These high-yield production zones required sophisticated storage systems in order to

organize distribution and pool resources along major transport routes. Massive storage

complexes have been found in the Inka provinces, not just near state farms, but also at

provincial administration centers such as Huánuco Pampa (Morris 1992), and the Upper

Mantaro Valley (D’Altroy and Hastorf 2001) (see also Covey et al. n.d., LeVine 1992,

Morris 1967). The heartland was also home to many smaller storage installations

controlled by the state and the nobility in order to support the political and social life of

the capital (Bauer 2004, Covey 2006b, Covey et al. n.d., Huaycochea 1994, Morris

1967). Snead (1992) outlined 44 sites known or believed to have state qollqas

(storehouses) at the time of his publication (excluding Cuzco). While highland storage

was done in bulk quantities, the evidence for state-controlled storage on the coast is scant.

Instead, archaeologists report storage in spaces likely controlled by pre-Inka

administrative elites (e.g., Marcus 2008a, Topic 2009; cf. Mackey 2006 who reports

storage created upon Inka incorporation of Farfán). Snead suggested that this

inconsistency may be due to the relationship between direct rule and state storage (1992).

60

In areas where Inka rule was tenuous and indirect, state storage may not have been a

good strategy because local populations could use it to fund rebellion and destroy state

stores.

Across the empire, staple and wealth storage was designed to buffer against large-

scale risk, provide surplus for financing state work projects and festivities in key areas,

and provision communities in need with food and craft specialists with raw materials (see

Covey et al. n.d., Covey 2009a). Storage in the Cuzco region is distinct from the

provinces. Snead (1992: 63) attributes this to the existence of the estate system, the

greater population density (in comparison to other highland centers), and the

requirements of elite economic maintenance (see Covey et al. [n.d.] and Protzen [1993]

on differentiating the types and their functions in the heartland region).

In Andean states, the intensification of agropastoral economies fed into the

development of political economies and (at least in the Inka case) a noble economy with

separate labor and resource pools. Intensified production was accompanied by a

hierarchical administration of surplus storage and restricted access to goods formerly

found throughout the subsistence economy. Control over storage of wealth and staple

goods was so great that the Inka Wayna Qhapaq was allegedly able to request foodstuffs

and gear be brought to his troops in Tumibamba (Ecuador) by administrators in Abancay

(southern Peru) (Espinoza 1973: 241). That storage complex was part of a state farm

enclave that produced a variety of surplus crops that were moved by caravan to Cuzco

and elsewhere. Not only was the Inka political economy developed for widespread

distribution of such goods, but consumption by producers was also controlled, as seen in

both Abancay ethnohistorically (idem: 240-41) and in Cheqoq now archaeologically.

61

Craft production, exchange policies, and wealth finance

The development of a sociopolitically complex administrative structure for

managing agricultural surpluses also allowed for political control over the production and

exchange of craft goods and luxury items that were used to legitimate and prop up power

for the state and the nobility. Elite exchange of wealth goods required more

intensification of existing craft production systems, which resulted in the creation of

production enclaves and the concentration of trained specialists in some cases. In other

cases, craft production for state interests was merely added into the local production

system (e.g., Hayashida 1998). Exchange networks were brought under state control

using direct and indirect strategies for the distribution of wealth goods to compliant

subjects, proxies, and local leaders. Expansion under the Chimú and Inka empires

enabled access to raw materials and skilled specialists for the production of wealth goods

on a greater scale than before (e.g., Berthelot 1986, Shimada 1987). Most studies of

Andean craft economies have been restricted to individual states, without much

consideration of diachronic changes in state craft policies and their broader effects on

societies (cf. Costin 2004, Vaughn 2006). Studies have often described a highland-coast

dichotomy of craft specialization, in which coastal communities under state rule were

organized by intra-community specialization and highland communities by inter-

community specialization. However, Costin points out that Andean states employed

highly variable strategies that superseded highland and coastal differences (2004: 195). A

suite of variables influenced the organization of craft production that included more than

just ecology.

62

Control over production and distribution of craft goods in Andean economies,

especially state-sponsored goods and those incorporating valuable raw materials, was key

to creating vertical ties between the ruling elite and local elites in the legitimization of

state power (Costin and Earle 1989, DeMarrais et al. 1996, Vaughn 2006). Andean craft

economies especially focused on cloth, pottery, metallurgy, the production of luxury

foods such as aqha (also called by the Caribbean term chicha; it is a fermented maize

beverage [Morris 1979]), and even the procurement of high-value exotic materials such

as Spondylus shell and tropical feathers.

Production of craft goods occurred at both the household level and in workshops

within Andean states. Differences in household-based and special production facility-

based crafting seem to be due to local conditions, craft type, and needs for controlling

distribution or not. For the Inka, Murra proposed that cloth production increased the labor

burden of subordinate households and was the impetus of the creation of new economic

institutions such as the mamakuna and aqllakuna, who were moved into production

enclaves to specialize in the fabrication of Inka craft goods (1962). Those institutions

thus took the household labor burden out of community structures. Re-settlement within

specialist enclaves that were overseen by local administrators or the nobility (depending

on the case) allowed for oversight of style and technology, as well as control over

distribution.

Concentrating craft production specialists in state- or elite-controlled facilities

was not only a policy of the Inka with institutions such as the aqllawasi (Gose 2000), but

was also practiced in the palaces of Chan Chan and Chimú provincial sites (Topic 1990,

2003, 2009; Tschauner 2006: 191). Just as archaeologists posit that the Chimú elite

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factions rather than the Chimú state administration exerted more direct control over

storage, so did the Chimú elite oversee craft production.

A monolithic craft economy that is well-integrated and focused in the hands of the

state would function better under special production facilities where administration could

be physically concentrated. But, as Nash has pointed out (2009: 234), many Andean

states left craft production (especially quotidian ceramic and cloth) embedded in the

domestic economy. Production occurred physically within the domestic setting at Moche

sites, for example, and was sent as tribute to intermediate elite authorities who

redistributed the goods according to state needs (e.g., Chapdelaine 2011: 192).

In the Moche case, archaeologists have identified “multi-crafting” economies, in

which one facility was dedicated to the production of various types of goods. In these

settings, due to the common technologies they employ, production of goods such as

metals and ceramics occurred together (Chapdelaine 2002). Vaughn has described the

evidence for direct elite supervision of the production of high-status goods under the

Moche (2006: 330). He discusses both the iconographic support for elite supervision

occurring within the workspace itself, as well as architectural evidence that specialist

artisans labored in structures attached to administrative architecture. In order to control

the elaboration of politically charged products and access to finished goods, Andean

states employed various mechanisms for production oversight, ranging from the presence

of elite administrators in workshops to the placement of retainer specialist households

(where the locus of production could be found) adjacent to elite living quarters.

In similar fashion at Chan Chan, the later Chimú entrusted oversight to the ruling

elite residing near the retainer laborers. Topic argues that weaving and metallurgy

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functioned under the direction of Chimú rulers at Chan Chan, as a permanent retainer

laborer force manufactured craft goods that were subsequently returned through

reciprocal obligations to their producer subjects (1990, 2009: 237; Day 1982). The Chimú

case demonstrates the difficult task of separating economic control by elites on their own

behalf and elites administering for the direct benefit of the political economy. In other

words, whose interests were served by particular factions overseeing craft production in

each state and each local setting?

Returning to Inka policies, both domestic-embedded craft production (seen via the

increased spinning activities in Xauxa households, for example [Earle and Smith 2012])

and workshop-based production for tribute demands were employed, varying by craft,

province, and site. In some Inka provinces, while production of local pottery styles

continued after Inka incorporation, the imperial style ceramics were not produced but

rather were imported (D’Altroy and Bishop 1990, Earle and Smith 2012). In this

scenario, it seems that the Inka maintained control over exchange via restricted

production centers in the Xauxa area.

In contrast, production of Inka goods with local technologies but imperial styles

was added into north coast ceramic workshops and elsewhere (Hayashida 1999, Spurling

1992). In regions where both imperial and local pottery types were produced, an Inka

paste recipe was used for Inka pots while local pastes continued to be used for local styles

(D’Altroy and Bishop 1990). Costin posits that this was due to a desire to not interfere

with local production organization (2001b), but the difference in pastes also served to

ensure that raw materials were provided to specialists for use in state tribute labor

(D’Altroy et al. 1998). In Chapter 7, I describe a nucleated pottery workshop at Cheqoq

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where vessels in the imperial style were produced under indirect noble oversight.

Specifically, Cheqoq demonstrates that nobles did not reside at the site of pottery

production, but the workshop functioned within a standardized framework of technology

and style and fabricated goods specifically for persons not residing at the site. Indirect

noble oversight is inferred due to the site’s association with the panaqa, the restricted

access to the workshop, and the standardized production of elite/state goods there on

behalf of higher status persons than those laboring at the site. The organization of craft

production and exchange are important to understanding how the noble economy

contributed to the political economy and which sociopolitical means were served by

distribution of craft goods.

Reconstructing Andean state economies

Differentiating between state, local, and kin network economic institutions is a

challenge for archaeologists. Inka scholars have been prolific in their examinations of

provincial economies at the level of the state and local institutions through archaeology

and ethnohistory. Earlier Andean societies, however, have received less attention.

Archaeologically, we do find evidence of the continuation of local economies and even

some kin-based systems paralleling or in conjunction with state economies (see Murra

1980[1956]). The implementation of imperial economies did not necessitate the

eradication of local ones, but rather that producers were compelled to take on additional

labor requirements to support the new political structure.

Studies of earlier states have generally emphasized political structure in the

absence of a good understanding of economy, and they have tended to conflate domestic

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and political economies in overarching models of statecraft. However, there are some

notable exceptions. In the Wari case, studies have largely assumed the persistence of

local economies (e.g., Schreiber 1992). Jennings, however, recast the Cotahuasi Valley, a

region characterized as an integrated Wari colony, as an area in which local economies

adjusted to take advantage of the interregional trade promoted by Wari (2006). Top-down

perspectives can obscure the agency of local groups and their adjustment to imperial

economies in their own favor. Rather than interpreting investments in construction and

ceramics that resemble Wari as the state implementation of economic institutions, he

argued that local groups imitated the Wari style of their own accord.

Teasing out these top-down and bottom-up perspectives is difficult in the

archaeological record. It may be the case, for example, that settlement pattern changes

from upper to lower elevation under Andean states normally attributed to forced

resettlement for state economic gain were at times the result of local decision-making

(Covey 2006b). Current research in the Cuzco region also indicates that local economies

were relatively untouched by what superficially seemed a significant Wari presence in the

area (Bélisle and Covey 2010). For Tiwanaku, Goldstein takes a similar approach,

characterizing colonies as autonomous entities that served to facilitate exchange within

an ayllu rather than produce directly for the core in new regions (2005).

Representing perhaps a more thoroughly studied state among the Andean cases,

researchers have noted the difficulty in assigning a single model to Inka imperial

expansion and consolidation. Craig Morris has said that “the brilliance of Inca

achievement seems to lie in its ability to accept, use, and perhaps even foster variability”

(1983: 478). That statement might be revised to suggest that the Inka were in a constant

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struggle to incorporate and govern local populations, adjusting imperial economic

strategies to suit local ecologies and sociopolitical structures. That is to say, assessing the

dichotomy of local and state economies is useful but complex because the Inka were not

able to simply conquer and transform in a monolithic fashion (Rowe 1946). Some of the

variability in Inka economic policies can be attributed to the influence of kin networks

and local practices as well as the perpetual negotiation of imperial and local interests.

Drawing from chroniclers’ accounts and bureaucratic documents, Murra observed that

the Inka attempted to leave local economies in place (1980[1956]: 90) and that seems to

still be the case in provincial regions.

Because of the inclination of the Inka to adapt to local ecology and sociopolitical

organization and the concomitant occurrence of kin network-based and political

economy-based institutions, Inka economic policies varied greatly over time and space.

Researchers have made this observation many times from both ethnohistorical (e.g.,

Pease 1982) and archaeological perspectives (e.g., D’Altroy 1992, D’Altroy and

Schreiber 2004). The incorporation of new regions, ethnic groups, and diverse states

required a mosaic of indirect and direct rule (D’Altroy 1992). Moreover, the

concentration of noble populations in the core required the innovation of the royal estate

system, which allowed for resources and labor to be channeled toward the ruling elite in

close proximity to the urban capital. We must continue to collect data from the core so

that models of the Inka economy do not only focus on what we find in the provinces.

Provincial studies focused on the site level have had success obtaining detailed economic

data, especially when incorporating domestic perspectives. A more comprehensive view

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of the Inka economy is possible by applying that archaeological site- and household-

based perspective to the core.

The Cheqoq Archaeological Project provides that site-level scale of analysis on

imperial development within the Inka heartland, specifically at a site ethnohistorically

associated with a royal estate system. In the course of evaluating the Cheqoq results in

Chapters 6 to 9, other archaeological studies of Inka sites are presented in comparison.

By briefly introducing the relevant features of those studies, the reader will be familiar

with the research when it is later mentioned.

Providing the most robust set of baseline data, the Upper Mantaro Archaeological

Research Project (UMARP; Earle et al. 1987) identified Inka and LIP households (patio

groups) for excavation across six sites in their study region in Central Peru. The research

focused on the comparison of consumption and production in etic elite and commoner

patio groups, as well as evaluation of non-domestic areas. “Elite” patios were defined by

their location vis-à-vis public spaces, the quality of architecture, the number of structures

in a patio (three or more in elite patios, two in commoner patios), and the area of the

group. Elite patios were typically clustered around a central location at the highest

altitudes of the site; at times, they were nearest to open plazas and non-domestic

architecture in comparison with their commoner counterparts. In the Wanka III, or the

Inka period, elite patio groups were the most likely areas to have Inka-like and

rectangular structures, as opposed to the earlier round structures. Subsequent artifact and

ecofact analyses showed that the UMARP etic classification system, based on structural

form and organization, as well as surface artifact assemblages, provided a useful method

to distinguish between elite and commoner at the six sites.

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There is an important caveat in comparing the data from Cheqoq with that of

UMARP. Many of their excavated sites were located on high knolls and originally settled

in the LIP (or Wanka I and Wanka II). A few sites – Marca, Chucchus, Huaca de la

Cruz, and Hatun Xauxa – were single-component Wanka III (Inka) sites, but Chucchus

and Huaca de la Cruz were just villages. Hatun Xauxa was a provincial administrative

center and the only site not settled on hilltops. Only Hatunmarca and Marca were

included in their Late Horizon excavated household assemblages, though.

Cheqoq, meanwhile, is a different type of Inka site in terms of function and

chronology. Although there is a small LIP component at Cheqoq, our limited

excavations in that sector of the site do not indicate circular, patio-grouped houses

concentrated on a high knoll. However, the approach to the Inka household as a building

block of larger political economies and holistic material analysis makes the UMARP

domestic excavations pertinent to this study.

Another data set pertinent to the Cheqoq study is that of D’Altroy and his

colleagues in the Calchaquí valley of northwest Argentina (D’Altroy et al. 2000; see also

D’Altroy et al. 2007). This research is especially useful for modeling Inka household

production and consumption in relation to wealth economies (D’Altroy and Earle 1985,

Earle 1994). The same methodology was employed in the subsequent Calchaquí project

as with UMARP. Regional surveys and site-level excavations, including the state

settlement of Potrero de Payogasta, are evaluated for evidence of how the Calchaquí

valley helped to finance Tawantinsuyu’s growth and consolidation. Excavations yielded

abundant remains from wealth production but scarce remains for the consumption of

finished wealth goods. The Calchaquí research thus provides good comparative data to

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assess how the production and use of wealth and craft goods intersect and what those

patterns indicate about state control on the imperial scale.

A recent provincial Inka study with data relevant to interpreting the Cheqoq

results is Abraham’s dissertation research at Pulapuco, the principal Lucanas site in

Ayacucho (2010). Abraham takes a holistic approach to artifact and subsistence remains

at Pulapuco to assess the role of local elites and how imperial policies affected this

provincial settlement. Another recent and pertinent dissertation excavation project is

Kosiba’s work at Wat’a in the Cuzco region (2010). Kosiba used intramural and

extramural excavations focused on LIP and Inka households, as well as outside spaces to

evaluate changes at the local level reflecting polity-scale development. These two recent

studies are especially relevant because of their comprehensive approach to the

archaeological assemblage and readily available artifact data.

A final useful artifact assemblage can be found in the Machu Picchu collections at

Yale. The study and publication of this rich heartland assemblage (from a royal estate

palace complex) has resulted in the dissemination of a wealth of knowledge pertaining to

who resided at the site apart from the nobility. Studies of the Machu Picchu assemblage

have demonstrated important information about the lifeways of royal estate laborers

(Burger et al. 2003, Burger and Salazar 2004, Rutledge and Gordon 1987, Salazar 2007,

Turner et al. 2009, Verano 2003). Data derived from mortuary contexts at Machu Picchu,

assumed to correspond to retainer laborers there, are especially useful for comparing

markers of status and identity and recognizing subsistence versus luxury faunal remains

(e.g., Miller 2003).

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These research projects represent the excavated data from Inka period sites that

are most often called upon in the following chapters for building a baseline and

framework around the Cheqoq results. In the following chapter, I describe the

ethnohistorical and archaeological reconstructions of the Cuzco region, the royal estate,

the Maras region, and the site of Cheqoq to date. Chapter 4 will explain why Cheqoq is

an ideal locus for studying the Inka heartland economy from a new perspective and is

followed by chapters applying the above research projects to the CHAP results for a

comparative look at the Inka political economy.

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Chapter 4

IMPERIAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE INKA HEARTLAND

This project is grounded in decades of archaeological and ethnohistorical research

in the Cuzco region and greatly benefits from the regional context provided by

researchers past and present. This chapter describes scholars’ current understanding of

how Tawantinsuyu developed in the Cuzco region. It serves as a complement to the

broader themes of Andean state economies discussed in Chapter 3. Archaeological and

ethnohistorical data are reviewed to provide the context in which to analyze Cheqoq as a

settlement of retainer laborers, specialists, and administrators linked to Wayna Qhapaq’s

royal estate (ruling approximately 1493-1525 CE; Cabello Valboa 1951[1586]: Book III,

Ch. 20, 24).1

1 Cabello Valboa’s dates for the imperial Inka period (Pachakutiq and beyond) are the most widely used in Inka studies, beginning with Rowe giving them some prominence in his chronology (1944: 57). Inka researchers have dealt with Inka history through two main perspectives: a literal reading of chronicle accounts as history with a definable chronology (Rowe’s paradigm; see also Julien 2000) and a structuralist or mythohistorical perspective in which accounts of the Inka are better read as “events” (Zuidema’s paradigm; see also Urton 1990: 5-9).

Research at Cheqoq (as part of a much larger royal estate system) facilitates

reconstructions of imperial development in general and for the Inka in particular,

While Cabello Valboa’s sources are unclear and he spent most of his time on the Peruvian coast and around Quito (Patrucco 2008), his dates for the later rulers have been deemed most plausible. Sarmiento de Gamboa (2007[1572]) would seem to have the best sources, having interviewed over a hundred record keepers in Cuzco, but his dates would make some rulers reach over 100 years of age. Covey (2006a) provides an updated, exhaustive analysis of the problem of the Inka ruler chronologies and argues the historical sources from the Colonial period cannot be a stand-in for regional analysis of state development in the Cuzco region.

I cite Cabello Valboa’s dates here to provide an approximation of the period in which his estate was initially developed, but do not give primacy to any particular calendar dates. Rather, it is most important to understand that Wayna Qhapaq ruled before Waskhar sometime in the late 15th and early 16th centuries (see Covey 2006a: Table 3).

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especially as regards labor institutions and their effects on economic, social, and political

development in an imperial heartland.

Development of the Cuzco heartland

Prior to regional archaeological research in the 1980s, Inka state development was

understood largely through the work of John Rowe (1944, 1945, 1985), who promoted a

“punctuationist” model of rapid growth beginning with the Inka Pachakutiq (Julien 2000;

see Covey 2003; cf. Zuidema 1964 and the diarchy model for Inka kingship).2

In the past three decades, systematic archaeological and ethnohistorical survey

has begun to address the perceived gap in Inka development between a “straggling

collection of poorly built houses” in Cuzco (Rowe 1944: 6) and the largest native empire

For Rowe,

real Inka history began at 1438 with Pachakutiq’s reign as chronicled by Cabello Valboa

(1951[1586]), relegating the earlier rulers to legendary and mythical status. This

paradigm has resulted in the acceptance by many researchers of an absolute date for Inka

imperialism, a notion that became pervasive in published literature on the Inka (e.g.,

Conrad and Demarest 1984; Niles 1993, 1999; Protzen 1993). However, as Covey (2003)

points out, Rowe’s model ignores the importance of Inka development in the greater

Cuzco region, painting an image of the village turned empire under a charismatic ruler.

Rowe also overlooked the stated importance of Manco Capac as the first unifier of the

Cuzco region (see Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1609]) and the gradualist expansion

described by the chronicler Guaman Poma de Ayala (2001[1615-16]: ff. 86-89, 96-113).

2 Though Means had argued for a gradualist view of Inka development and that rapid expansion was propaganda on the part of the Spaniards (1928; see Covey 2006a: 171).

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in the Americas. Aside from promoting a more “process-based” understanding of Inka

imperial development (Bauer and Covey 2002, Covey 2003), archaeological research has

yielded radiocarbon dates that challenge the charismatic ruler model. For example, Covey

(2006b) found that parts of several sites attributed to Pachakutiq’s expansion and

incorporation were already in the process of abandonment before Pachakutiq’s ascension

to the throne (following the Cabello Valboa dates at least).

Systematic settlement surveys covering more than 2500 km2 have identified at

least 1700 Inka sites in the Cuzco region (Bauer 1992, 2004; Bauer and Covey 2002;

Covey 2003, 2006b, 2006c; Covey et al. 2008; Kosiba 2010). These settlement data and

their accompanying historiographic and ethnohistoric components provide a strong

regional framework for investigating Inka consolidation and expansion from the core (cf.

Hiltunen and McEwan 2004). Research has focused on the imperial core or Inka

heartland, which included the urban capital and the surrounding hinterland. Farrington,

Bauer, and others have promoted the concept of the “imperial heartland” as a key

framework for Inka studies. This heartland is delineated by ethnic, status, and ritual

boundaries (Bauer 2004; see also Covey 2006b, n.d.; Farrington 1992; Ocampo

1908[1610]).3

Bauer and Covey’s regional archaeological and ethnohistorical research

demonstrates that by the time of imperial expansion beyond the heartland, the Inka had

created an administratively hierarchical polity in the Cuzco region, with improved

agricultural systems, elite-controlled storage, private estates, and a system for extracting

3 Garcilaso de la Vega wrote that the provinces began at 50 leagues from Cuzco (1966[1609]:Pt. 1, Bk. V, Ch. 8).

75

labor tribute. The state was already navigating the complex social and ethnic

relationships of the greater Cuzco region and possibly employing a trained army to

advance its causes (Covey 2006b). An important contribution of recent work is the

recognition that Tawantinsuyu was a polity in progress and was not administratively

homogeneous, particularly within the heartland. Inka researchers are increasingly aware

of the mosaic of economic installations and sociopolitical linkages to rulers and nobility

in the heartland, especially as seen through the system of royal estates and their

relationships to local populations. The Cheqoq project presented here builds upon this

research by illuminating one such estate locus and placing it within a regional context to

better understand the processes linking the many types of state and estate institutions in

the heartland.

One striking aspect of heterogeneity is the impact it has on local economies, as

seen through ethnohistory and settlement patterns and other archaeological analyses.

Bauer, Covey, and Kosiba have examined how political rivalries, pre-Inka sociopolitical

complexity, resource distribution and intensification, and the negotiation (and vacillation)

of alliances with heartland neighbors may have helped to determine the economic

continuity or disruption of a particular area. The Paruro region, without a hierarchical

settlement pattern prior to the Inka, largely retained an intact economy with imperial

incorporation (Bauer 1992). The royal estates developed north and south of Cuzco either

1) took the place of allegedly uncooperative local polities, 2) were established at the sites

of the most productive and developed lands or, 3) were created out of undeveloped tracts

by the ruling couple or the panaqa (Covey 2006b: 116-17). While Inka administration is

76

evident in the guise of large administrative centers in the provinces, the heartland may

have employed the royal estate system as an organizing institution in place of

administrative centers (Covey 2006b, 2006c). In contrast, Kosiba’s research in the

Ollantaytambo area (the Wat’a Archaeological Project or WAP) found a continuation of

local economies and attributed small settlement changes to social factors (2010). WAP

survey data supported a continuation of local agropastoral economies in the absence of

evidence for larger settlement changes. Kosiba found a relative continuity of settlement

patterns in relation to resources and elevation, but did not subsequently demonstrate the

continued production patterns through excavation. Where site-centric and regional data

do not agree or reveal a more complex process, archaeologists must build more

comprehensive models and explanations.

Research on the Cuzco Inkas is complemented by the in-depth study of several

provincial regions that round out reconstructions of Tawantinsuyu (e.g., Bauer and

Stanish 2001; Covey 2000; D’Altroy 1992; D’Altroy and Hastorf 2001; D’Altroy et al.

2000; D’Altroy et al. 2007; Earle 1994; Earle et al. 1987; González and Tarragó 2004;

Heffernan 1996; Idrovo 2000; Jamieson 2003; Julien 1983; Mackey 2003; Malpass 1993;

Matos 1994; Morris 1998; Morris and Covey 2003, 2006; Morris and Santillana 2007;

Morris and Thompson 1985; Parsons et al. 2000; Schjellerup 2005; Wernke 2006).

However, the heartland region has not seen the same frequency of problem-oriented and

intensive excavations at the community or settlement level in the Inka period (exceptions

include Bauer 1987-89, 1992; Farrington and Zapata 2003; Kosiba 2010). Such

undertakings are the next step in the effort to model imperial development as a

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heterogeneous process. The Cheqoq project meets that need, by matching our

archaeological understanding of the imperial core with that of the provinces.

Archaeological excavations in the Cuzco area Late Intermediate Period and LIP-

Inka transition have been more extensive (e.g., Covey 2006b; Dean 2005; Dwyer 1971;

Kendall 1976, 1996; Kendall et al. 1992; Kosiba 2010; McEwan et al. 1995, 2002; Rowe

1944). However, settlement-level research of Inka Cuzco has focused on monumental

architectural studies and excavations of readily identifiable, elite and ritually significant

sites (e.g., Alcina 1970; Alcina et al. 1976; Condori 2004; Earls and Silverblatt 1978;

Farrington and Zapata 2003; Instituto Nacional de Cultura 2007; Nair 2003; Niles 1987,

1993, 1999; Protzen 1993; Valcárcel 1934, 1935; Valencia Zegarra 2004; Valencia

Zegarra and Gibaja 1992; Vargas 2007; Wright et al. 2006, 2011). While these research

projects contribute to models of Inka administration, smaller and/or less visible sites must

be studied as well.4

Those less visible sites often include domestic occupations, which

were the foundation of economic activities.

Royal estate development in the Cuzco heartland

Cuzco’s private estates are a good example of how researchers have overlooked

domestic contexts and economically important sites and site elements. The archaeological

diagnostic for royal estates is the palace complex. However, royal estates were much

larger systems that went beyond the walls of the rural retreats, with their elite lodgings

and elaborate shrines. Sites such as Thupa Inka Yupanki’s Chinchero complex (Alcina

4 Approximately 90% of the sites identified through archaeological survey in the Cuzco region lack surface architecture (R. A. Covey, personal communication 2012).

78

1970, Alcina et al. 1976, Nair 2003), Pachakutiq’s Machu Picchu (Burger and Salazar

2004, Valencia Zegarra 2004), or Wayna Qhapaq’s Quispiwanka (Condori 2004, Niles

1999) are among the best known palaces, but ethnohistoric research has demonstrated the

mosaic of resources and labor held beyond such sites (Covey and Amado 2008; Covey

and Elson 2007; Niles 1999, 2004; Rostworowski 1962, 1966, 1970a; Rowe 1997;

Villanueva 1970a). The Inkas’ reorganization and resettlement of the ethnic groups

surrounding Cuzco resulted in the gradual and organic development of the royal estate

lands where opportunities arose (Covey 2006c: 130-1).

Personal estates in Cuzco were developed by the ruler or the royal couple (Covey

2011: 31-32) and were maintained by their descendants (the panaqa [see Zuidema 1964,

1990]). The purpose of estates was ostensibly to support the ruler and his faction

economically, politically, and ideologically. They were not necessarily contiguous and

may have included more than one palace complex (e.g., Beatriz Coya claimed

Ollantaytambo and Pisaq were both properties of Pachakutiq [Rostworowski 1970a: 159,

Rowe 1997: 277]). Estates were constructed and labored on by retainers and tributaries of

various types (e.g., Betanzos’ account of how mitmaqkuna canalized the Urubamba river

and then yanakuna worked the resultant farmlands there for Wayna Qhapaq [1996(1557):

170]). Some of the estate’s components included storage, herds and pastures, forests of

timber and hunted species, gardens (sometimes referred to as moyas [Niles 1987-89]),

irrigated and improved fields, coca fields, salt sources, and infrastructure such as bridges

and towns (Niles 1999, 2004; Rostworowski 1970a; Toledo 1940b; Villanueva 1970a).

The tracts pertaining to estates could be converted from recently conquered lands or

79

through intensification and transformation of formerly less useful resources, such as the

Urubamba Valley case during Wayna Qhapaq’s reign (Betanzos 1996[1557]: 169-70,

Covey 2011, Niles 2004).

Figure 4.1. Regional map of the location of Cheqoq and some royal estate sites in relation to Cuzco and Maras. Base map by Alan Covey.

According to most records, the institution of the royal estates began with Inka

Roq’a, Inka Wiraqucha, or Pachakutiq, depending upon how the estate is defined

(D’Altroy 2003: 127-29). Royal estates of earlier ruler pairs were initially established

within the Cuzco Basin and later began to expand outward with Wiraqucha Inka’s estate

of Caqui Xaquixaguana (or Huchuy Cuzco) (Covey 2006b). A document from the

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Archivo General de Indias (Seville), published by Rostworowski, inventoried the areas

acquired by rulers from Wiraqucha forward:

Viracocha Ynga in Caquia, Xaquixaguana and Paucartica, and his son Pachacuti Ynga Yupangui in Tambo [Ollantaytambo] and in Pisac, and Pachuti Yupangui’s son Topa Ynga Yupangui in Chinchero and Guaillabamba, and his son Guaina Capac en the valley of Yucai and settlement of Quispiguanca, and Guascar Ynga son of Guaina Capac in Calca and Mohina and the settlement of Guascar, all made in memory of him and his ayllu (Rostworowski 1970b: 82).5

This list shows the variety of estates named for certain rulers in archival sources. Niles

has compiled a list of royal estate and palace holdings by ruler (and by qoya or the female

sister-wife counterpart to the Inka ruler) based on the published archival and chronicle

data available at the time of publication (1999: 76-7), which was expanded and updated

by D’Altroy (2003: 128-29) and Covey (2003: 351). Thupa Inka Yupanki was described

as having the city palaces of Pucamarca and Calispuquio, as well as the rural palaces of

Chinchero and perhaps Amaybamba. Wayna Qhapaq held the Casana and Pomacorco in

the city of Cuzco, with Yucay – including the Quispiwanka palace – in the countryside

(figs. 4.1, 4.2).

5 “Viracocha ynga en caquia, xaqui xaguana y paucartica y pachacuti ynga yupangui su hijo en tambo y en pisac y su hijo del dicho pachacuti yupangui, topa ynga yupangui en chinchero, guaillabamba, y su hijo guaina capac en el valle de yucai y asiento de quispiguanca, y guascar ynga hijo del dicho guaina capac en calca y mohina y el asiento de guascar los cuales dichos asientos hazian para la conservación de su memoria, ayllo y apellido.” Transcribed in Rostworowski 1970b: 82, from AGI. Escribanía de Cámara 506A. f. 546.

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Figure 4.2. Reconstructed southern wall of the main Quispiwanka palace structure (part of a larger architectural compound [see Niles 1999]).

It seems likely that Cuzco’s personal estates provided not only productive

resources in the name of a panaqa and its rulers for intensifying the Cuzco economy and

promoting ceremonial life, but also the means by which the panaqa could promote

personal alliances and appease certain factions. The wealth produced on the estates could

serve to finance factional interests and sustain estate laborers through public feasting and

quotidian provisioning. Additionally, some rulers gave particular grants to relatives or

deceased rulers (Niles 1987, 1999: 150-1, 2004: 51). The panaqas produced and

collected wealth within the Cuzco Valley as well, with storehouses associated with

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particular factions (Bauer 2004: 97, Betanzos 1996[1557]: 52)6

A large population of retainers and tributaries undertook production on the estate.

Niles, while having done intensive architectural and documentary research on some

estates, has also said that there is no physical trace of the residences of these populations

(2004: 60). However, these residences were likely overlooked prior to systematic

settlement survey in the valleys encompassing estate lands. Monumental architecture may

be lacking, but surface remains do point to the subsurface preservation of residential

contexts (Covey et al. 2008: 11). Moreover, 16th-century chronicles describe yana

settlements on the royal estates. For example:

in addition to their royal

residences within the urban core.

In this valley [Wayna Qhapaq] gave farmlands to the lords of Cuzco, both to the living and to the dead lords whose statues were there. They sent their young yanacona servants to cultivate their vegetables and other things for their enjoyment. There Huayna Capac had many small towns of twenty, thirty, and fifty Indians built. In these towns he put many mitimae Indians from all the nations and provinces of the land. Mitimae means people, including them and their descendants, transplanted from their birthplace to reside permanently there where they were placed (Betanzos 1996[1557]: 170).

Mitmaqkuna (or mitimaes, as above) and yanakuna are sometimes conflated in the

ethnohistoric documents, as the former category includes the latter. As described in the

previous chapter, the difference is in retainership status for yanakuna (Rowe 1982). The

material remains of laborer residences should be identifiable in and around estate

resources where they worked.

Reconstructions of royal estates that are based on ethnohistoric records alone are

problematic for two reasons. First, claims to panaqa associations were motivated by a 6 Betanzos specified that Inka Yupanki (Pachakutiq), upon ordering the lords of Cuzco to build storehouses around the neighboring hills, also declared that the stores would feed those laboring to construct the city. The storehouses would serve the nobility and the tributaries residing there.

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desire to acquire land and power within the guidelines of the new Spanish Colonial

government while still making full use of the Inka period framework (see Burns 2010,

Niles 1999, Urton 1990). Second, it is difficult to establish Inka witnesses’ claims to

associations with a particular ruler because they may be taken out of context by the scribe

or by scholars in the present. For example, a witness who testified that his father served

Wayna Qhapaq may merely imply that his father served the Inka state in the time of

Wayna Qhapaq. On the other hand, the testimonies made in the 1550s regarding Wayna

Qhapaq’s Yucay estate stress that the lands and retainers corresponded to the Inka

himself as “criados del Inka” (servants of the Inka) instead of “suyurunas” (regular

tributaries to the empire) (Villanueva 1970a: 3).7

Estate labor and administration

The royal estate economy was structured and functioned through a hierarchy of

managerial and production roles extending out from the royal factions associated with

each estate system. These groups included administrators overseeing groups of laborers

(kurakakuna), re-settled laborers (mitmaqkuna and yanakuna), and labor specialists

(kamayuqkuna, which may have been included in the latter two categories). For the later

estates of Thupa Inka Yupanki and Wayna Qhapaq, for which we have detailed chronicle

references of their construction (Betanzos 1996[1557]), mitmaqkuna were allegedly used

7 However, the 16th-century document in question was designed to prove that there were retainers of the Inka living in the valley so that Wayna Qhapaq’s descendants could inherit them (see Covey and Amado 2008). The responses to the questionnaire that confirmed the laborers were yanakuna rather than mitmaqkuna was answered with confirmation of that distinction. The witnesses were asked if they had served as regular tributaries like the rest of the population in the Inka period or if they were retained by the nobility (Villanueva 1970a: 100).

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for initial infrastructural development. Subsequently, yanakuna served as the permanent

population to work the estate lands and resources, including local and provincial re-

settled groups. Migration to productive enclaves (state farms and estates) was an

important element of the Inka campaign for state expansion and wealth accumulation

among elite heartland factions.

There are few reliable sources of information about who administered the royal

estate on the ground level. Those managing resources and production may have included

Inkas from Cuzco (members of the panaqa not engaged in other assignments), as in the

case of Wallpa Thupa (Rostworowski 1970a: 161, Villanueva 1970a: 4, 7).

Administrative positions over tasks such as salt collection went to non-nobles from the

Cuzco region (Toledo 1940[1571]b: 108), and provincial yanakuna themselves

sometimes emerged as administrators or kurakas (Rowe 1982: 100-1). Some early

witnesses describe how Thupa Inka Yupanki and Wayna Qhapaq selected the most able

of the yanakuna to serve as administrators (Toledo 1940[1571]b: 80, 111). A 16th- to

18th-century petition for recognition of nobility describes yet another dimension of estate

administration: persons from Maras who had allegedly descended from the Inkas of

Maras T’oqo (of the Pacariqtambo origin story [see Sarmiento de Gamboa 2007(1572):

Ch. XI, Urton 1990]) were made nobles in Wayna Qhapaq’s time and subsequently

served in overseeing some agricultural fields of his estate (ADC. Intendencia, Gobierno.

Leg. 144. 1791-1792. ff. 91-92v).8

8 This section of the probanza de nobleza consists of copied testimony from 1569 from prominent community members of old age. The document was identified through a tip generously offered by David Garrett on the location of the manuscript.

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The Toledan visitas name persons in charge of chakras (fields), potters, quality

control for Wayna Qhapaq’s clothing, defense of weapons and storehouses, and even

caring for the borla fringe, a royal insignia (Toledo 1940[1571]a: 60, 112-13; Toledo

1940[1571]b: 152; see Covey 2006b, 2009a; Niles 1999: 132). According to reports,

these administrators oversaw certain numbers of workers in a hierarchical labor

organization on the estate (Niles 1999: 132). Niles observed that “the historical

documents make it clear that an estate was based on a carefully planned social design that

mixed together workers of diverse ethnic backgrounds who carried out a range of jobs in

support of the royal owner of the estate” (1999: 133).

The tributaries who labored on behalf of royal estates and under these types of

administrators were referred to as yanakuna in chronicles (e.g., Betanzos 1996[1557],

Santillán (1950[1563-4]; cf. Cieza de León 1996[1553]: Chap. XXII), Sarmiento de

Gamboa 2007[1572]) and sometimes kamayuqkuna (specialists) or mitmaqkuna (e.g.,

Villanueva 1970a), though the role they played is often emphasized to be as servants to

an Inka. Also referred to as criados by Spaniards, even the earliest eyewitness accounts

describe the retainers attached to the nobility and their royal estates (e.g., Sancho de la

Hoz 1968[1534]: Chap. XVII).9

9 Some ethnohistorians have speculated that the yanakuna institution was only invented as a reaction to Crown policies in the Colonial period, specifically as a way of circumventing tribute policies (e.g., Wachtel 1977). However, these early observations would seem to nullify this suggestion. Certainly the demography of the yanakuna may have changed as some elected to return to their home provinces and others took on the title (Covey and Elson 2007), but that does not negate its existence in the Inka period.

Many yanakuna populations were brought from

conquered provinces, especially the rebellious ones, in an attempt to quell revolt and

move labor pools to the most politically important and resource-rich regions (Rowe 1982;

Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1609]: Pt. 1, Bk. VII, Ch. 1).

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Betanzos described how Pachakutiq gave yanakuna to serve a deceased ruler’s

idols, understanding that it would be done for him one day (1996[1557]: Pt. 1, Ch. XVII).

First, Pachakutiq granted mamakuna (a type of female ritual specialist in service to the

Sun or the deceased Inka [see Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1609]:Pt. 1, Bk. IV, Ch. 1-6;

Gose 2000; Rowe 1982; Silverblatt 1987]) and yanakuna to his wife, numbering 150 and

200, respectively. Soon after the death of his father Wiraqucha, Pachakutiq ordered

statues made in his father’s honor. Pachakutiq ordered that the mamakuna and yanakuna

caring for these idols be given

Land on which to sow and harvest for the service of these statues. He also designated much livestock for the sacrifices that were to be made to the statues. These servants, lands, and livestock were given out to each one of the statues for itself. He ordered that great care be taken to give food and drink to these statues every evening and morning and to make sacrifices to them. For this purpose, he had a steward put in charge of the servants he had designated for each one of the statues (Betanzos 1996[1557]: Pt. 1, Ch. XVII).

This chronicle reference concurs with the archival evidence that retainers oversaw lands

and herds in support of the project on which they labored. The excerpt additionally

supports the evidence for administrators overseeing groups of retainers. Those mamakuna

and yanakuna were also provided with “houses, towns, and farmland in the valleys and

towns around the city of Cuzco [so] that these servants and their descendants should

always take care to serve those statues which he had designated for them” (ibid.).

Yanakuna and mamakuna did not just serve the royal estates, though. When Inka

Yupanki (later Pachakutiq) rebuilt the House of the Sun of Cuzco – the Qorikancha – he

brought 200 young married men referred to as yanakuna to work in the temple and farm

the Sun’s lands (Pt. 1, Ch. XI). Wayna Qhapaq later increased the number of yanakuna

and mamakuna serving both the sun temple and the royal estates (Pt.1, Ch. XLI).

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In sum, estates were sustained by several types of tributaries. These included the

mitmaqkuna who prepared the estate’s infrastructure in the later Inka period at least.

Yanakuna executed the required labor after the estate was established. The yana

populations included kamayuqkuna of many types, who were specialists in all sorts of

craft and subsistence production. In some sources, descriptions that sound like the

yanakuna are referred to as mitmaqkuna (e.g., Cieza de León 1996[1553]). Yanakuna also

referred to permanent retainers working on behalf of the state, the sun cult (Betanzos

1996[1557]: 48), provincial nobility (Murra 1975b: 225-42, cited in Rowe 1982: 97) or

even kurakas, as seen in the visita of Chucuito, where 1% of the population was

yanakuna in lifelong service to a kuraka for domestic work and herding tasks (Wachtel

1977: 74).10

There is some evidence that yanakuna serving the Cuzco nobility enjoyed an

elevated status in some respects or in some cases, particularly as the result of an imperial

project designed to promote allegiance to Tawantinsuyu rather than to home provinces

(Rowe 1982). The yanakuna are rarely referred to as “slaves,” although they fit the model

as permanent retainers in service to a noble house whose status was hereditary and as

permanently re-settled populations (Rowe 1982: 100). Wachtel, however, points out that

they had their own farmland and animals (1977: 74). Betanzos simply differentiates

between slaves and perpetual servants, with yanakuna fitting the model for the latter

(1996[1557]: 104).

10 Rowe calculated 5.6% of the population serving as yanakuna from the Chupacho visita (1982: 101).

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However, although they may have had their own plots and herds, some of those

resources were provided as a provision of labor channeled toward their royal or state

sponsors, with only usufruct rights implied in the use of lands owned by the estate.

Yanakuna also were not free to leave their heartland settlements, but did flee in greater

numbers to their home regions after the onset of Spanish rule. Like slaves in ancient

Rome, criminals could be made yanakuna as a suitable punishment (Betanzos

1996[1557]: 104). The status of yana was a complex one, with some disadvantages but

also some benefits in status through association with a panaqa and its resources. Any

elevation of status would be internal to the retainer population, though. In other words,

there is no evidence that yana status would mean upward mobility in relation to the larger

heartland population.

Yanakuna were re-settled with their own ethnic group, though sometimes in

combination with other ethnicities as well (see Covey and Elson 2007). Though

communities were characterized by pluralism, the maintenance of smaller homogeneous

enclaves may have allowed yanakuna to maintain a shared identity and cultural practices

from their home region (Cieza de León 1996[1553]: Ch. XXII). If these patterns hold true

in the archaeological record, we may be able to see the material remains that reflect the

variable and changing identities of perpetual servants and retainers to the nobility.

Maintenance of home region practices and use of material culture from the homeland

may be mixed with Inka canons of style that denote a degree of assimilation to Inka

culture.

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Models of yanakuna derived purely from ethnohistory are muddled and deserve

further investigation through archaeology, to the extent that the two records are

congruent. Based on the reconstruction of who they were and how they served the Inka,

questions about domestic economy, craft specialization, and community and household

status become important to understanding the process of retainership. These questions are

addressed through the CHAP project. Cheqoq is just one place where this research can be

conducted, although the site emerged as a good candidate due to its rich ethnohistoric and

regional archaeological records. Other projects have found it challenging to identify

retainer and mitmaqkuna settlements archaeologically (D’Altroy 2003: 248, 2005: 280;

Gyarmati and Varga 1999) or have proposed that they were no longer preserved (Niles

2004: 60).

Inka development in the Maras region

Cheqoq is located in the Maras region, so a description of the area should serve to

contextualize the pre-Inka and Inka periods there. Recent research has contributed to a

perspective on the Maras region as a locale where royal estate development was a major

aspect of Inka expansion. Maras thus presents ample information to reconstruct one area

of the heartland economy. The CHAP project complements XPAS regional survey

recently completed (Covey i.p., Covey et al. 2008, Covey and Yépez 2004) and ongoing

archival research led by Covey and Amado.

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Environment and natural resources in Maras

The region of Maras is made up of the modern towns of Maras, Mullakas-

Misminay (see Urton 1981), Cruzpata, K’aqllaraqay, Qollanas-Amantuy, and

Mahuaypampa, delineated by the Urubamba Valley to the north, the Xaquixaguana Plain

to the southwest, and Chinchero to the southeast. It is also a modern political district

within the province of Urubamba, department of Cuzco. The town of Maras is about 30

km northwest of Cuzco, at 3380 masl, though the region varies between 2800 and 4400

masl. Geologically, the Maras Plain is composed of the Pampa de Piuray-Maras, with

deposits that are chiefly fluvial. The Plain also presents lacustrine formations near Lakes

Huaypo (in Cruzpata) and Piuray (in Chinchero) on the edges of the Plain (Carlotto et al.

1996). The Pampa de Piuray-Maras includes large blocks of useful lithic material,

especially fine-grained sedimentary rocks and sandstones (of the geological formation

Grupo Yuncaypata, which also includes limestone). Hills within the Maras region

correspond to the formations San Sebastián (sandstones and fine sedimentary deposits)

and Rumicolca (a volcanic formation made up of Plio-Quaternary basalts and andesites)

(Carlotto et al. 1996, Gregory 1916). Building materials at the site of Cheqoq appear to

come from the Rumicolca formation, of which Cerro Cheqoq is composed. Most stone

artifacts from the Inka occupation of the site are of local lithic raw materials.

Following Parsons and colleagues (2000) and Covey (2006b), Maras is primarily

composed of a plain and rolling hills classified within the agriculturally productive

kichwa zone (fig. 4.3). This ecozone lies between 2700 to 3850 masl, where a variety of

cereals, legumes, vegetables, and tubers are grown. Maras includes the suni or upper

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kichwa that is mostly favorable to the growth of tubers and quinoa. The upper reaches of

the hills around the western edge of Maras extend into the lower puna elevations, defined

as 3850 to 4200 masl, where camelid grazing and tuber horticulture prevail. The furthest

reaches of the Maras region enter the upper puna, limited to 4200 to 4700 masl where

herding is common. The climate in the region is temperate, with drier (May to

September) and wetter seasons coinciding with colder and warmer temperatures,

respectively. Annual rainfall averages 740 mm, but varies greatly from year to year

(Covey 2006b: 43).

Figure 4.3. Recent photo of the Maras Plain in the dry season, with a view from Cerro Cheqoq toward the northeast and the Yucay Valley

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Figure 4.4. Points in Maras mentioned in the text. Base map from Google Earth 2012.

A description of the ecology of Maras comes from Don Diego Enriquez de

Monroy in the 17th century:

The temper of this town is cold and dry, wheat11

and maize are grown, as well as potatoes and other legumes. There is seasonal drought; much work is required to bring water and very little comes and it is very salty. Within the town there are some salt fields originating in a spring; the salt spreads with some artifice from the slope of a rocky outcrop, it provides well for the Marquisate and part of the city of Cuzco (Villanueva 1982[1689]: 270; translation mine).

Today, Maras is deficient in water sources, with municipal authorities undertaking

multi-year projects to create new canal systems to bring water from neighboring, wetter

communities. Dry farming and herding predominate the contemporary Maras landscape

as it did in the early Colonial period (e.g., AGN. Superior Gobierno, 1586, Leg. 1, Cuad.

11 A European crop not grown in the Andes prior to the Spanish Conquest.

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1012

A major natural resource within Maras, in addition to the arable land and open

pasture favorable to llama herding, are the salt pans located between Yunkaray (just north

of the modern town of Maras) and Yanahuara (in the Yucay Valley) (fig. 4.4). The Maras

Salineras (salt reservoirs) are located inside a quebrada extending to the valley, enclosed

by hills called Cruz Moqo, Llaullimoqo, and Chupayoq. The center of the salt pans is at

an altitude of 3200 masl and covers 15-20 ha on the west side of the quebrada with a

slope of about 20 degrees. However, the prehispanic extension of the salt reservoirs may

have been different from the present day, as they fluctuate in size annually, with

destruction and re-building episodes that may have also occurred in the past. The salt is

derived from the dissolution of subterranean gem salt deposits in underground water

stores that emerge south of the pans through a spring. The salt is collected in prepared

clay pans fed by an elaborate canal system and subsequently evaporated. Salt was

previously collected at the summits of Cerro Yawarmaqui and Cerro Chilpa as well, but

the pans were abandoned due to accidents during extraction (Beltran 1988, Kumaki

2011).

), although there are some areas, especially quebradas and the slopes leading toward

the Urubamba Valley, where moisture and some natural springs make maize farming

possible (especially near Paucarbamba and Amantuy). Most maize was and is grown in

the Urubamba Valley, just 400 meters below the Maras Plain, where the crop thrives (see

Covey 2006b).

12 Citation for this archival source was provided by Alan Covey.

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Overall, the Maras region is ecologically complementary to the Yucay Valley.

Below, the ethnohistoric record as related to Maras is reviewed to better understand the

use of the land and labor of the people there and how the Inka came to incorporate Maras.

Ethnohistory of Maras

The earliest point in Inka lore at which Maras is referenced is in the origin stories

of the Inka, where the people of Maras Ayllu emerged from Maras T’oqo, the niche or

cave in Pacariqtambo from whence appeared the founders of Inka Cuzco and the ten

founding ayllus (see Urton [1990] for a comprehensive study of the Pacariqtambo

myth;13

Toqay Qhapaq was the title used for the Ayarmakas’ sinchi in some chronicle

accounts (Guaman Poma de Ayala 2001[1615-16]: ff. 96-97, Sarmiento de Gamboa

Bauer 1991; D’Altroy 2003: 49; Sarmiento de Gamboa 2007[1572]: Ch. 11;

Valcárcel 1939). Maras Ayllu was described as under the leadership of Toqay Qhapaq, an

Ayarmaka ethnic group sinchi or paramount (Sarmiento de Gamboa 2007[1572]: Chapter

20). The Ayarmaka ethnic group has been located in Maras and Chinchero by recent

ethnohistorians and archaeologists (e.g., Covey 2006b, D’Altroy 2003, Kendall 1994,

Julien 2000b, Rostworowski 1970b). Based on interdisciplinary study of the region,

Covey described the group as a complex polity with a paramount that wavered between

friendship and aggression with the Inkas and their other neighbors, periodically asserting

their dominance (2006b: 140).

13 However, Urton argued that the association of the mythical original ayllus with particular places and people may have become historicized and concretized for political reasons, lending authority and status to the kin of the informants used in solidifying the myth.

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2007[1572]: Ch. 20).14 Sarmiento recounted how Mama Mikay had been promised by the

neighboring Huayllakan ethnic group as bride to Toqay Qhapaq; instead she became the

wife of Inka Roq’a. A war began between the Ayarmakas and the Huayllakans and a

child was born to the Inka and his qoya – Titu Kusi Wallpa or later Yawar Waq’aq. The

Ayarmakas demanded the child as ransom in exchange for ending the war, with which

the Huayllakan complied. Inka Roq’a responded with aggression against the Ayarmakas.

The latter prevailed against the Cuzqueños and the Huayllakan and then took the

kidnapped Yawar Waq’aq to a place Sarmiento de Gamboa called “Aguayrocancha,” or

“the main town of their province” (2007[1572]: Ch. 20-21; cf. Murúa 1986[1590]: 61).15

Toqay Qhapaq declared a death sentence on Yawar Waq’aq, who responded by

crying tears of blood and proclaiming a curse upon the Ayarmakas. Afraid of the boy, the

Ayarmakas planned to allow him to starve to death instead and ordered him to turn his

curse toward Cuzco. Yawar Waq’aq was sent with the “most valiant Indians” to be kept

at one of their “herding ranches” (Sarmiento de Gamboa 2007[1572]: Ch. 21), spending

“a year among the shepherds without leaving the herders’ huts” (idem: Ch. 22).

16

14 See Covey (2006b: 142-45) on the elaboration of elite hierarchies.

The

Inka’s son was eventually returned to him through the assistance of the Antas, who

became honorary Inka as a result. Subsequently, the Ayarmakas and the Inkas seem to

15 Though Aguayrocancha is referred to as the main town of the Ayarmaka province, it is similar to the name of the larger hill of the two on which rests Cheqoq: Cerro Ahuayro. The precise location of Aguayrocancha is otherwise unknown, but it is possible it is related to Cheqoq even though Cheqoq would not have been the main Ayarmaka town (in terms of what we know archaeologically since Covey’s Xaquixaguana survey [2011, Covey et al. 2008]). At the least, this toponym in reference to Ayarmaka territory is one more line of evidence pointing to an Ayarmaka association with Maras and Chinchero. 16 “One of their herding ranches” may be taken to imply that there camelid staging areas in the Ayarmaka territory. One of these was probably at Cheqoq, where archival sources referred to the Inka’s corrals and today one observes the remnants of corrals, which may have been a continuation from the LIP (see Chapter 6).

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have exchanged royal daughters for marriage and in consolidation of the alliance (idem:

Ch. 22; 230 n.124; see also Bauer and Covey 2002).

Wiraqucha Inka, the eighth Inka, was credited with conquering the Ayarmakas

and Maras, according to Sarmiento de Gamboa (2007[1572]: Ch. 25) and others (e.g.,

Cabello Valboa 1951[1586]: Pt. 3, Ch. 14; Murúa 1986[ca. 1590]: Bk. 1, Ch. 17; cited by

Covey 2006b: 115). The Ayarmakas were among the neighboring ethnic groups

permitted by Inka Yupanki (Pachakutiq) to wear earrings, though they were not allowed

to cut their hair short as they were not administrators (Betanzos 1996[1557]: 68;

Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1609]: Pt. 1, Bk.1, Ch. 13). Although they were allied at that

point in the chronology, Sarmiento de Gamboa told how the Ayarmakas refused to

recognize Inka authority under Pachakutiq. Toqay Qhapaq was taken as a prisoner to

Cuzco, Pachakutiq had most of the Ayarmakas killed, and their towns were destroyed

(Sarmiento de Gamboa 2007[1572]: Ch. 34). Rostworowski’s archival research led her to

conclude that the remaining Ayarmakas were separated and moved to Pucyura,

Chinchero (present-day “Ayarmaka”), and two parts of the Cuzco Valley – Santa Ana

and San Sebastián (1970b: 75). Both archaeological and ethnohistorical evidence

indirectly and directly indicate that at least some parts of the Maras Plain were converted

into panaqa lands in the names of certain Inka rulers. Other parts of Maras were

dedicated to salt production (see Fornée 1965[1586]) and agricultural pursuits seemingly

unrelated to the royal estate (e.g., Earls and Silverblatt 1978, Wright et al. 2011).

A complex web of panaqa associations following Inka conquest emerges from a

survey of the available ethnohistorical sources. Various parcels in Maras were associated

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with Wayna Qhapaq and Thupa Inka Yupanki. Some of the difficulties in discerning

which tracts were associated with which panaqa are due to the differences between

modern, colonial, and prehispanic place names. Another issue is the degree to which

colonial period descendants changed their noble associations (e.g., Rostworowski 1970b:

87, 2005[1963]).17

Thupa Inka Yupanki’s descendants claimed some lands on the Maras Plain,

including parcels in Tiobamba (Rostworowski 1962) and Condebamba or Amantuy

(Rowe 1997: 282, 1985: 203). Tiobamba was given to Alonso de Loayza in 1557 and was

described as previously belonging to Thupa Inka Yupanki. Apparently, yanakuna from

Chinchero resided there, tending the maize to be consumed by the Inka ruler, though the

lands had not been recently used (Rostworowski 1962: 136, 143). Rostworowski

additionally posited that Thupa Inka Yupanki’s claims must have included Maras because

of the number of yanakuna he had and because of the solicitation of the encomendero

Alonso de Loaysa for Thupa Inka Yupanki’s Amantuy lands in Maras (1970b: 83).

However, judging the extent of landholdings based on the number of laborers does not

provide good information about where such a surplus of labor would have resided.

One could say the same for Wayna Qhapaq’s holdings extending into Maras from

the thousands of yanakuna in the nearby Quispiwanka and Yucay Valley estate.

However, there is other more convincing evidence that Wayna Qhapaq’s estate

incorporated some of Maras and its inhabitants. Cache (the salt pans of Maras and its

ayllu) and Pichingoto (the neighboring settlement) were considered part of the Yucay 17 Alonso Tito Atauchi is a good example of this sort of case; he made several conflicting claims in connecting himself to more than one noble lineage (including Wayna Qhapaq’s, Thupa Inka Yupanki’s, and Waskhar’s; Covey and Amado 2008: 365).

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estate in early Colonial documents (Niles 1999: 133, Toledo 1940[1571]b: 108,

Villanueva 1970a: 3). Two witnesses from the Toledan visitas were estate workers from

Cache. One was a salt administrator for Wayna Qhapaq; he and his father were

kachikamayuqkuna (salt specialists) in the Yucay Valley. The other was from Cache but

worked elsewhere for Thupa Inka Yupanki (Toledo 1940[1571]b: 108).

Ayllu Pichingoto was combined with Ayllu Checoc [Cheqoq] and Saño18 in the

16th century (ADC, Urubamba. Leg. 1. 1594-1595).19 Twenty-one of the yanakuna

claimed by Beatriz Clara Coya and Martín García de Loyola resided in San Francisco de

Maras in 1572, the Toledan reducción town for the surrounding ayllus, including Cheqoq

(Covey and Amado 2008). Furthermore, Ayllu Checoc was specifically associated with

the Marquisate of Oropesa and Ayllu Loyolas, which resulted from the estate inheritance

of Beatriz Clara Coya. When the encomendero Pedro de Orue was granted part of Thupa

Inka Yupanki’s estate by the Cuzco cabildo, Cheqoq was one of the excluded ayllus (R.

Alan Covey, personal communication 2011).20

When combined, the above information indicates that both the site of Cheqoq and

the people living there were tied to Wayna Qhapaq, while areas of the Maras Plain

Additionally, informaciones on Wayna

Qhapaq’s holdings in Yucay referred to parcels there called Cachibamba and Collabamba

that were farmed by Wayna Qhapaq’s servants who resided in Maras (Villanueva 1970a:

51-2).

18 The Quechua term sañukamayuq refers to a pottery production specialist. The name Ayllu Saño, in use in the early Colonial period to refer to a population living at or near Cheqoq, lends support to the idea that a pottery specialist enclave resided at the site, as discussed in Chapter 7. 19 Thanks to Alan Covey for sharing this document, which Donato Amado transcribed as part of the XPAS project. 20 This finding is from Covey’s study of documents held in the Archivo General de Indias, Seville.

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contained tracts belonging to Wayna Qhapaq’s and his father’s panaqa in the Inka period.

Further critical archival study may reveal more conflicts in the history or clarify some of

the more problematic claims. For now, however, I take the position that Cheqoq, as part

of Wayna Qhapaq’s Yucay estate, with its historical links to retainer populations and its

particular archaeological remains, was a settlement that served the Yucay estate and

included some yanakuna, administrators, and others. This will be tested archaeologically,

with the internal dynamics of the estate population discussed in Chapters 6 through 10.

Wayna Qhapaq’s estate

Because Cheqoq is considered here to correlate to the Yucay estate, Wayna

Qhapaq’s holdings in this area deserve further exploration. Fortunately, information on

the Yucay estate (encompassing the valley from Huayoccari to just below Urubamba) is

particularly rich due to its favorable location near Cuzco. Spaniards were eager to grant

parcels to elites for escape from the harsh altitude of Cuzco (Villanueva 1970a) and even

Francisco Pizarro established an encomienda there early on (Covey and Amado 2008:

23). Beatriz Clara Coya’s later lawsuit included a great deal of additional information on

the estate, with modern research mostly derived from a group of documents (the Betancur

Collection) that were collected during the 18th-century struggle for the Marquisate of

Oropesa (Covey and Amado 2008, Covey and Elson 2007, Lamana 1999, Villanueva

1970a).

The Marquisate of Oropesa was created in 1614 and granted to Ana María de

Loyola, the daughter of Beatriz Clara Coya and Martín García de Loyola, after their

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deaths. It was granted only after an earlier protracted battle over Beatriz Clara Coya and

her husband Martín García de Loyola’s rights to tributaries in four towns in the Yucay

Valley – Santiago de Oropesa (Yucay), San Bernardo de Urubamba, San Benito de

Alcantará (Huayllabamba), and San Francisco de Maras. Those rights were asserted on

the grounds that Beatriz Coya was the heir of her father Sayri Thupa, who had been

granted his grandfather Wayna Qhapaq’s estate by the Crown in exchange for diplomatic

cooperation in 1557 (Covey 2008: 25). Beatriz Coya and Loyola had begun a lawsuit

against the Spanish Crown in 1574 to re-assign 563 Yucay Valley Crown-administered

yanakuna to Beatriz Coya’s inherited repartimiento (Lamana 1999: 47). The suit claimed

that the retainers were not regular tributaries and should be exempt from Crown tribute.

Instead, Beatriz Coya and Loyola attempted to claim all the yanakuna in the Yucay

Valley, who were serving a variety of people, even those retainers brought by

encomenderos. Due to the 16th-century legal battle and subsequent 18th-century efforts to

prove noble descent in relation to Wayna Qhapaq’s lineage and specifically Sayri

Thupa’s estate bequest, a wealth of documentation on genealogy and the makeup of over

800 yanakuna households – 2,334 individuals -- is available (Covey and Elson 2007,

Covey et al. 2011).

Because of these extensive documentary sources, Wayna Qhapaq’s Yucay estate

has served as an archetype to view other estates (Niles 2003). In addition to the holdings

based around the Quispiwanka palace, Wayna Qhapaq had an urban palace in Cuzco (the

Casana) and a larger complex in development near modern Cuenca, Ecuador at

Tumibamba (Cieza de León 1996[1553], Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1609]: 486-7, Idrovo

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2000, Jamieson 2003, Ogburn 2004). The Yucay estate bordered on the east with some of

Thupa Inka Yupanki’s lands in Urquillos (Villanueva 1970a: 35). Interspersed among

Wayna Qhapaq’s lands were parcels dedicated to various family members and his father,

according to the Inka nobility and valley residents interviewed on the makeup of the

Yucay Valley in the 1550s (Villanueva 1970a: 31-54). Within this description, one finds

specific information on each parcel, sometimes including what was grown there (e.g.,

sweet potato and ají peppers grown in Paucarchaca, also described as a moya for the

Inka’s pleasure; Villanueva 1970a: 37). Within the royal estate, some resources were

assigned to the sun cult, including a 200-topo field called Chuquibamba and the salt

fields near Maras (Villanueva 1970a: 39-40). A bridge connected Maras to the valley,

perhaps near the salt fields (idem: 53).

Regarding the yanakuna of Yucay, informants in the 1551 and 1552 visitas

claimed that there were at least 2,000 of them living in the valley (Villanueva 1970a: 40).

Half were from Chinchaysuyu and the other half were from Qollasuyu (Covey and

Amado 2008, Villanueva 1970a: 139). However, many more workers -- 150,000 -- had

canalized the river to make room for the estate’s irrigated maize lands, coming in from

the provinces only temporarily (Betanzos 1996[1557]: 170). The permanent yanakuna of

the Yucay estate were composed of households and individuals from many ethnic groups

within Cuzco as well as nearby and more distant provinces (see Covey and Elson 2007

for an exhaustive survey). The makeup of yana households was reconstructed from

household surveys from four decades after the Spanish Conquest (ibid.). Even with

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diminished numbers due to migration, yana demography reveals the diversity of the

retainer enclaves.21

Among the yanakuna found living in Maras in 1571 by Pedro Gutiérrez Flores,

the ethnic identities Quichua, Qolla, Chanka, Xaquixaguana, Yauyo, and Cañaris were

recorded and included men born in the Yucay Valley before Conquest (Covey and

Amado 2008: 294-6). Ethnic diversity may have been mitigated in daily practice, as

Covey and Elson’s household survey demonstrates the proclivity for intermarriage among

some Yucay yanakuna (2007: 316-7). Without a clear understanding of who lived with

whom and precisely where through the archival record, the archaeological remains must

be explored to get at this issue, although it still remains problematic (see Aldenderfer and

Stanish 1993, Reycraft 1999).

When asked how the retainers acquired their subsistence foods on the estate,

informants replied in 1552 that they had plenty of land to cultivate for their own

consumption (Villanueva 1970a: 40-3), in accordance with the chronicle narratives

described above. Covey and colleagues found light artifact scatters adjacent to estate

terrace systems in the Yucay Valley, probably indicating residential retainer enclaves

(2008: 11). They further posited that much of the large estate labor population may have

lived at the margins of the estate, in settlements that now lie beneath modern town

constructions (ibid.). Upon cultivating lands for the nobility, the retainers sent the estate’s

crop to storehouses in Cuzco, Chinchero, and other places under the care of yanakuna

and storage administrators (Rostworowski 1970b: 83, Villanueva 1970a: 50).

21 Though an additional caveat is that some individuals arrived on the estate after the European invasions (Covey and Elson 2007: 313).

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Crop cultivation was not the only activity undertaken by retainers on this estate.

The Toledan visitas found reports of many types of labor specialists associated with

Wayna Qhapaq’s estate, including salt collectors and potters; however, the only

information scholars currently have on these activities is from the 16th-century archives.

Excavations at Cheqoq providentially identified a pottery workshop that illuminates some

of the questions we have about how the estate functioned (Chapter 7).

An additional function of the estate emerged after the ruler’s death: the curation

and care of the royal mummy and its retinue (see Betanzos 1996[1557]: 190-1, Conrad

and Demarest 1984, Covey 2008: 22, Niles 1999). The Betancur documents reveal that

mamakuna ritual specialists and male yanakuna who were to serve food and drink were

charged with the mummy’s care in the Quispiwanka where he was kept (Covey and Elson

2007: 307). Much research has already been devoted to the organization of the

Quispiwanka complex (Condori 2004, Farrington 1995, Niles 1999, Valencia Zegarra

1982), though systematic artifact analyses from excavations are not available for

comparison with non-palace sectors of the estate.

Archaeological evidence for Inka transitions in Maras

Compared to other parts of Cuzco and some Inka provincial areas, Maras is a

region that has seen little excavation-based research (exceptions include Guevara 2004,

Haquehua and Maqque 1996, Quirita 2005) but is thoroughly contextualized as a region

thanks to the Xaquixaguana Plain Archaeological Survey (Covey and Yépez 2004, Covey

et al. 2008). XPAS (directed by Covey and Yépez) conducted systematic full-coverage

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survey of the Anta, Chinchero, and Maras regions. In Maras, during the LIP, Covey

found a hierarchical pattern of undefended settlements within 5 km of a 20-ha central

site. This settlement system around the central site of Yunkaray, just north of the modern

town of Maras, covered approximately 120 ha and was concentrated around the margins

of quebradas in undefended locations. XPAS found that improved maize fields were

adjacent to the LIP center as well (Covey et al. 2008: 10). Especially when considered in

tandem with the available ethnohistorical evidence, this hierarchical LIP settlement

system of large and small villages fits well with expectations for the center of the

Ayarmaka polity described by the Colonial chronicles. XPAS survey data from sites with

Inka remains contrast sharply with the LIP pattern; those sites with LIP surface pottery

were abandoned and replaced by a new settlement pattern.

In the nearby, lower-altitude Yucay Valley, Covey and colleagues found that the

Inka settlement shift involved a move from upper elevations to sites closer to maize-

producing lands (Covey 2006b, Covey et al. 2008; cf. Kosiba 2010). However, in the

Maras regions, populations re-settled away from maize lands, shifting the focus to the salt

fields, herding and pasture lands (see Covey et al. 2008: 11), the storage facility at

Cheqoq, and a potentially large settlement under modern Maras (ibid.).22

When the ethnohistorical evidence is considered in tandem with regional survey,

we first see Maras occupied by an autonomous polity that swayed between alliance and

tension with the emergent Inka state in Cuzco. This was followed by the forced

The shift was

sudden, as there was virtually no Inka pottery at the nucleated LIP settlements in Maras.

22 Maras was at least partially dedicated to herding lands corresponding to an Inka estate, according to testimony meant to prevent the Compañía de Jesús from turning certain parts of Maras into farm land (AGN. Superior Gobierno, 1586, Leg. 1, Cuad. 10; citation provided by Alan Covey).

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resettlement of the Ayarmaka outside Maras. Finally, Maras saw the subsequent

investment in infrastructure related to the estate and other resources (e.g., Moray [Wright

et al. 2011]) and the resettlement of retainer populations within Maras (Covey and

Amado 2008; R.A. Covey pers. comm. 2011).

One phase of the XPAS survey included intensive surface collections of 50 m2 (a

2% total surface sample) at sites larger than a hectare. Cheqoq was the largest Inka site

identified in the district of Maras (22 ha) and was included in these intensive collections

to determine site organization and function. The other large Inka sites in Maras were

Moray (25 ha; Wright et al. 2011), which is extensive due to its terraces rather than for its

settlement (it is not a habitation site), and Maras itself (4 ha) (Covey n.d.). The size of

pre-Conquest Maras is difficult to determine due to extensive Colonial architecture and

modern occupation. In twenty-nine units of 50 m2 collected at Cheqoq, XPAS recovered

2702 sherds, 670 of which were diagnostic, with 431 polychrome imperial Inka sherds.

The high proportion of imperial Inka sherds on the surface (64%) was unusual when

compared to Inka sites throughout the surrounding region, and initially suggested that the

site was used by Inka elites. Rather, excavations described in this dissertation, along with

ethnohistorical contexts, indicate that the high level of polychrome imperial style pottery

(Cuzco-Inka pottery) is due to the use of the site for production and the fact that retainers

and their administrators had access to the elite-associated goods in spite of their relatively

low status.

The Peruvian Instituto Nacional de Cultura reconstructed nineteen storehouses at

Cheqoq in the early 2000s. During the excavations, they found mostly utilitarian Inka

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ceramics, but also some macrobotanical and faunal remains in and around the storehouses

(Guevara 2003, 2004; Soto 2002). The INC also found offerings of fine ceramics in the

corner of one storehouse, and evidence for storage technology seen elsewhere in the

Cuzco region: Type 2 storehouses (Protzen 1993: 115-9). The storage architecture and

infrastructure (such as adobe bins and ventilation channels) would have provided the

ideal space in which to store staple goods along the cooler, drier pampas above the Yucay

Valley.

With the benefit of these baseline data, CHAP picks up where the regional survey

and storehouse restorations left off to provide a site-based perspective. Archival and

chronicle data establish a context for investigating the royal estate and Cheqoq’s

connection to the Yucay palace complex. Archaeological research in recent years

provides information on the changes that the Inka made to the Maras region, as well as

pilot data on the layout of Cheqoq at the surface level. With surface remains, we were

able to target CHAP excavations to identify domestic and production contexts, as

outlined in Chapters 6 through 9. First, the following chapter describes the specific

questions asked of the site’s archaeological record and the methodology used to address

them. The chapter also introduces the excavated portions of Cheqoq discussed in this

study.

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Chapter 5

THE CHEQOQ ARCHAEOLOGICAL PROJECT

As discussed in the preceding chapters, major regional transitions occurred across

the Cuzco region that had visible effects on demography, economic organization, and

sociopolitical hierarchies. The royal estate system allegedly accounted for a great deal of

the rural heartland landscape and was the impetus for the construction of major

monumental sites such as rural palaces, as well as the expansion of large storage

complexes. Cheqoq is the site of one of those estate-associated storage complexes and

has been identified through regional surveys and ethnohistorical research. As the largest

Inka habitation site in the Maras study region (Covey and Yépez 2004, Covey et al. 2008)

with surface remains of storehouses and an imperial style pottery assemblage, Cheqoq

presents us with important questions about how it formed part of the panaqa’s resources

in the Cuzco region. With the first site-focused archaeological excavations at an estate

settlement that is not a palace complex, we can address the material makeup of the royal

estate, the production activities occurring there, and the internal relationships of the

residential population at Cheqoq.

Cheqoq is composed of approximately 8 hectares of storage structures and

another 14 hectares of domestic terraces. The storage complex is one of several in the

region (Huaycochea 1994), but Cheqoq offers better-preserved domestic contexts than

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comparable sites and has the first securely identified pottery workshop, in addition to

being among the largest rural Cuzco sites. Cheqoq is the ideal site at which to examine

the estate economy and it offers further information on how the nobility and laborers

contributed to the larger imperial system. We excavated a total of 252 m2, including test

units, sampling various domestic contexts and expanding them horizontally in relation to

now-buried architectural features. This included a cross-section of one storehouse and

65% of the surface area of an Inka ceramic workshop.

Archaeological hypotheses

Due to the lack of standing architecture at Cheqoq, it was necessary first to

confirm that there are domestic contexts at the site. Once their presence was confirmed,

those residences could be analyzed comparatively to assess the status, occupation, and

identity of each household.1

Upon confirming the function of different sectors of the site

– storage, domestic, and otherwise – we could evaluate the evidence for craft production

in different activity areas and how it related to the patterns of consumption analyzed

initially.

Hypothesis 1: The central sector at Cheqoq was predominantly a residential area

occupied by elites.

Based on ethnohistoric reconstructions, Wayna Qhapaq’s royal estate system

included royal residential facilities (such as Wayna Qhapaq’s Quispiwanka in the Yucay 1 Our excavations at Cheqoq did not reveal any evidence of multiple occupation episodes in the Inka period or re-building of structures. Therefore, any household-level analysis within Inka period structures is based on the assumption that materials came from a single household unit in a single period.

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Valley below [Niles 1999]) and hundreds of yana households (Covey and Amado 2008),

not necessarily in contiguous space. However, there has not yet been archaeological study

of non-noble residences within estate systems. With the ethnohistorical and regional

survey evidence for a laborer population living at Cheqoq, archaeological excavations

were needed to confirm their presence. The high percentage of decorated imperial style

pottery at the site indicated that the Cheqoq residents were elites, yet that identification

does not fit well with our model for yanakuna. Systematic analysis of excavated material

could assess the presence of a residential area and, subsequently, the status of residents

relative to each other and to the larger Inka society.

Based on available data, four possible interpretations for Cheqoq were possible:

1) a predominantly elite residential complex (inferred to be either lower-level, non-noble

Inka elites and/or promoted yana elites); 2) a residential complex with variation in

degrees of status between households; 3) a predominantly public space for feasting or

other public activities sponsored through the estate, in which Inka nobles interacted with

laborers in festive contexts; or 4) a combination of public festive and private residential

spaces as described above. If Cheqoq served a residential function in addition to the

storage function already observed and recorded by previous research (Guevara 2004), we

should expect to find permanent domestic structures built with stone and other durable

materials, along with the presence of domestic refuse. In the absence of domestic

remains, we may find that the dense surface scatter of Cuzco-Inka pottery corresponds

not to elite residences, but rather to public feasting activities or administrative activities.

Determining the function of the space associated with the relatively high percentage of

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imperial (and elite) pottery was done by evaluating the architecture and artifacts

associated with the pottery.

A corollary to this hypothesis concerns the evidence for status, identity, and

occupation found at Cheqoq. If the site had a residential sector, we must evaluate whether

it housed elite families or rather laborers and intermediate elite administrators, as

suggested by the ethnohistoric background of the site. Although there was elite-

associated Cuzco-Inka pottery on the surface, that need not restrict our interpretation of

households as strictly high status. Rather, there may be other factors contributing to the

out-of-place pottery, such as close association with the nobility via retainership (Rowe

1982). Status should be measured archaeologically through material culture beyond

ceramic goods. In addition to assessing status, fidelity to Inka identity was evaluated

through material culture. Suggestions are made for how to separate social status from

Inka identity.

Within identified domestic contexts, status was measured through multiple

analyses (following D’Altroy and Hastorf 2001): quality of architecture, household

layout, proportions of decorated pottery types (Cuzco-Inka, local Inka, non-Inka) and

functions, wealth and exotic goods (e.g., shell and obsidian), and access to certain plant

and animal foods. Architecture and assemblages were compared with other mapped and

excavated Inka administrative, estate, and domestic contexts to develop baseline data.

This line of analysis contributes to our understanding of the estate and its

organization as well as how certain economic functions (e.g., staple storage) were

fulfilled at a non-palace settlement. With evidence for Cheqoq as part of a royal estate

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system and with the presence of a storage facility, higher status domestic contexts would

indicate that residents were involved in the operation of the site’s storehouses. High

status residence indicates a dedicated official presence of panaqa members administering

the site, while non-residential site function or lower-status residences suggest periodic

monitoring by Inka nobles, placing the onus of daily management under lower status

control. Testing this hypothesis provides insight into the degrees of status of households

responsible for daily management of the storage facility and any other production

activities identified.

Hypothesis 2: Any production of craft goods at Cheqoq occurred within elite contexts

(public or residential) rather than special production facilities.

The presence and degree of craft or wealth goods in production at Cheqoq were

evaluated to determine the contribution of the site to the estate economy and heartland

economy. Were the same kinds of goods produced at the estate for panaqa consumption

as produced at administrative centers and state enclaves for consumption within the state

political sphere? Under what conditions did craft production occur and where were the

goods subsequently distributed? Identification of the production of Cuzco-Inka style

pottery, for example, could explain the high percentage of decorated polychrome vessels

at the site.2

The recovery of tools used in the production of finer textiles (e.g., bone, ceramic,

or stone lightweight spindle whorls; weaving tools; raw, dyed fibers), decorated imperial

2 The presence of Cuzco-Inka pottery production would also explain the unexpectedly high percentage of imperial style pottery on the site’s surface and force a reassessment of the “elite” nature of the settlement.

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Inka ceramics (e.g., fine, levigated clay; raw pigments; wasters), or obsidian (Burger et

al. 2000, Ogburn et al. 2009) or other exotic raw materials within the site would indicate

that craft or wealth production took place at Cheqoq. The organization of any wealth

production in conjunction with the consumption of wealth (hypothesis 1) is important in

assessing how high status resources and specialized production knowledge were

organized on the estate, and how administrators may have controlled access to rights and

privileges in the social and economic system.

Wealth production was assessed by household and by other types of spaces. The

degree of production was compared to the density of finished products to assess the

producer-consumer relationship (see Earle 1994). Special consideration was given to

avoid using production data as evidence for household status. Rather, production and

consumption were treated separately by evaluating finished goods or fragmentary

finished goods as evidence for consumption. Meanwhile, production by-products, raw

materials, and production facilities were treated as evidence for production in the

analysis.

Production in a workshop or special facility indicated craft specialists similar to

mitmaq state laborers or yana permanent retainers (Spurling 1992). We may find craft

production in a supervised, elite household setting, in an independent, household-based

mode, or in a nucleated workshop (Costin 1991, 2001a). These types of production are

differentiated based on architecture, spatial organization, and associated material

assemblages. The outcome of assessing household-based and workshop-based production

and its particulars may reveal, as Carballo reiterates, “how crafting can generate,

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reinforce, or challenge relations of power between individuals and groups” (2011: 144).

Determining the extent to which wealth production took place at Cheqoq contributes to a

broader understanding of the articulation of estate craft economies with the Cuzco craft

economy. Absence of wealth production at Cheqoq would be a sign that elite

administrators received craft goods produced in the same facilities as those used in the

state bureaucratic realm, that the estate palace directly controlled production embedded at

the palace complex (not at a site like Cheqoq, in other words), or that craft goods were

made in special production enclaves not yet identified.

Defining households, houses, and other spaces

The site of the research, Cheqoq, consists of many clusters of archaeological

materials on artificial terraces. These were suspected to be domestic contexts based on

the surface artifacts, size, and other surface remains. The strategy was to test excavate

them to determine their functions. Excavated materials were analyzed using an “activity

area” approach described by Flannery and Winter (1976). In this approach, whole artifact

assemblages are evaluated to determine the function of excavated spaces. Once domestic

contexts were identified, they were treated as the unit of analysis for assessing production

and consumption by the spatial divisions outlined below. Non-domestic contexts were

also treated as separate units according to spatial divisions apparent in the built landscape

and subsurface architectural remains. These divisions are justified by known cross-

cultural and culture-specific observations.

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This project approached the household as Wilk and Rathje originally defined it: as

a unit that works together to fulfill the productive, distributive, and reproductive needs of

its members and which can be analyzed by its social, material, and behavioral elements

(1982; see Barile and Brandon 2004, Nash 2009). While household members sometimes

engage in separate endeavors that make the household as a unit of analysis insignificant,

among the Inka, production obligations were organized at the household level through a

male head of the house. Other members performed support tasks, ranging from pasturing

llamas to gathering firewood to cultivating subsistence crops.

A “house” is a structure or structures making up a domestic complex, which is

different from a “household” as a social unit. I define the social phenomenon of a

household as above, while its archaeological correlate is an individual domestic terrace

and its component structures. The walled and morphologically divided terraces visible

today at Cheqoq served as the unit of analysis for this study, as they fit with both the

social and physical definition of a “household unit.” In regions where “patio groups”

were the predominant domestic architectural form (e.g., D’Altroy and Hastorf 2001), that

architectural unit has been applied for analysis. The domestic terrace at Cheqoq should

have the same function, based on our excavation results to date. Cross-cultural studies of

households demonstrate that settlements are typically divided according to social units,

with a “constructed landscape of houses, paths, walls, and monuments [formatting] the

localities of families and larger social groups” (Earle 2000: 52).

The household is thus conceptualized as the building block of production, while

the social relations within that unit are understood as both the outcome and driver of the

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recursive interactions in social, political, and economic relations within and outside the

household (Allison 1999, Bourdieu 1990, Giddens 1984). Lineage and kin organization

are traditionally important factors in determining household organization. In the Andean

case, households have been described as corresponding primarily to the nuclear family

(Mayer 2004) and the married pair in particular (Silverblatt 1987). This model is

supported in archival records of early colonial household organization (Covey and

Amado 2008) and chronicle accounts of tribute organization (Polo de Ondegardo

1872[1571]; Santillán 1950[1563-64]) and household labor divisions (Guaman Poma de

Ayala 2001[1615-16]).

Site description – Cheqoq

Cheqoq (sometimes “Cheq’oq” or “Cheqoq-Maras”) is located in the modern

district of Maras, between the city of Cuzco and the Yucay valley, about 30 kilometers

northwest of Cuzco. The site lies on the northern flank and peak of two hills – the smaller

Cerro Cheqoq and the larger Cerro Ahuayro – covering approximately 22 hectares during

the Inka period. The site is located south of Wayna Qhapaq’s palace complex and estate

lands in the lower Yucay valley (Niles 1999), but is also proximate to Thupa Inka

Yupanki’s Chinchero estate (Alcina 1970, Covey and Yépez 2004, Nair 2003). Several

other storehouse complexes are found nearby, including Machuqollqa or Raqchi

(Valencia Sosa 2004) and Huaynaqollqa (Niles 1999: 199). Cheqoq is surrounded by

reported estate resources and royal residences (Covey 2006b, Covey et al. 2008) and

played a subsidiary role in economic production for the panaqa.

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Cheqoq is one of the largest Inka sites in rural Cuzco (Bauer 2004, Bauer and

Covey 2002, Covey 2006b). Most of the sites identified by Bauer and Covey are around 5

to 10 hectares, but Cheqoq is significantly larger at 22 hectares (fig. 5.1) Although

Cheqoq’s extent is on the larger end of the size spectrum for Inka sites and for rural

settlements in early states, it does not exhibit evidence of being a town or administrative

center. Rather, it falls within the parameters, in terms of both size and makeup, for a large

specialized village settlement. Cheqoq has one of the largest storage complexes in the

region, as well as a decorated pottery workshop and a high percentage of elite pottery on

the surface. We have not yet identified a site with the same organization and components

in the area. The constructed landscape of Cheqoq is well preserved. One can still discern

the domestic (as per our recent excavation results) terraces on the flanks of the two hills

and crest of Cerro Cheqoq.

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Figure 5.1. Map of approximate limits of occupational periods at Cheqoq based on surface remains and CHAP test units.3

3 In excavations of parts of the site where pre-Inka occupation existed under Inka strata, we were careful to keep contexts separate in both excavation and analysis. We excavated pre-Inka contexts and analyzed the material remains, but they are not included in this study.

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Figure 5.2. Map and official delimitation (according to the Peruvian Ministry of Culture) of the site of Cheqoq. Terraces are outlined only in Sector Saqsaywaman (southwest) and Sector Puktuyoq (southeast).

Cheqoq today has little standing architecture, though domestic terracing and

possible corrals are still visible (fig. 5.2). Restored storehouses appear at the northern

limit of the site, where the National Institute of Culture reconstructed nineteen structures

in the early 2000s (Guevara 2004). Prior to that effort, the architecture in that part of the

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site – Sipas Qhawarina – was virtually unseen and unknown. As a result, Cheqoq was not

previously considered as a storage complex in regional reconstructions of the estate and

its economy (Niles 1999).

In summarizing the site’s components that are relevant to the Inka period,4 we

find evidence that the Inka added to a storage complex initially constructed in the Late

Intermediate Period. That complex eventually grew to eight hectares in the Inka period,

but may have been smaller and consisted of fewer structures prior to estate development

in Maras. In the future, radiocarbon dates and more horizontal excavations are necessary

to confirm that the storage complex originated at least partially in the LIP. For now,

CHAP has only excavated the cross-section of one storehouse with a single floor yielding

local LIP, Killke, and Inka pottery.5

Cheqoq was not the focus of settlement in the LIP. The residential center for the

Ayarmaka polity in the LIP is found on the Maras plain below Cheqoq, at the site known

as Yunkaray (Covey et al. 2008). After the Inka annexation of the Maras plain, where we

see the major settlement shifts described in Covey’s research, Cheqoq was more

intensively populated. Production activities were diversified and intensified, including

The excavated data from the INC’s reconstructed

storehouses are not clear enough stratigraphically to reconstruct a more encompassing

history of storage at Cheqoq.

4 Excavations also revealed Late Formative, Early Intermediate Period, Middle Horizon, and Spanish Colonial occupations at Cheqoq. These dates are estimated using established ceramic chronologies for the region (Rowe 1944, Bauer 1999). Those contexts are not included in this dissertation and may be assessed in the future in comparison with similar sites, as the excavated assemblages were comparably smaller than the Inka assemblages. Excavation strategies were adjusted according to the locations of these occupations, which demonstrate periodic interruptions -- if not abandonment episodes – in the Cheqoq chronology. 5 As described in the following chapters, LIP and Killke are separated following descriptions of the Killke style in the Cuzco Valley by Rowe (1944), Dwyer (1971), and Bauer (1999, Bauer and Stanish 1990). Pottery that seems related to Killke, but is not of the classically defined style and technology, is classified as “LIP undefined.”

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stone quarrying, herding, pottery production, and the addition of an extensive domestic

sector.

The LIP component at Cheqoq is not well understood, due in part to a lack of

knowledge of the vessel types produced in Maras before Inka incorporation of the region.

As a result, it is difficult to separate local pre-Inka (LIP) pottery from early Inka (or

Killke) pottery. Local LIP and Killke pottery was found on the same floor as imperial

Inka pottery in our storehouse excavation (Area F). This finding suggests that the Inka

adapted at least some storage structures in use by the local polity before expanding

Cheqoq’s occupation further up the hill. Adjacent to the storehouse sector, we excavated

four test units between 4 m2 and 9 m2. One of those (Area D) yielded mostly LIP pottery,

but we did not identify any architectural features. The artifact yield was less dense than in

other units, with few faunal remains. However, there were several carbonized

quinoa/kiwicha seeds recovered from sediment samples of upper and lower levels. The

unit’s location just steps to the east from the front of a row of storehouses may explain

the presence of quinoa/kiwicha here.6

The remains of the possible LIP occupation of Cheqoq in Area D included very

little Cuzco-Inka pottery, with 9 sherds in the plowzone and one sherd 20 cm below,

mixed in with LIP sherds. Killke, LIP decorated unknown (similar to Killke and other

familiar LIP styles around the region) and LIP undecorated (identified as LIP via paste

6 All botanical remains presented in this dissertation are carbonized samples. Uncarbonized samples were determined “possibly modern” and are not considered in any analysis. If burnt quinoa or kiwicha were present outside a storage structure, it did not arrive there merely by falling out of its storage bag or vessel. Rather, the sample must have been deposited and then burned or burned and then deposited. Perhaps this sample is rather the result of an outdoor cooking feature used during the pre-Inka occupation of the storage complex.

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comparisons) made up 47% of the assemblage (figs. 5.3, 5.4). Cups, bowls, and jars were

present among the identifiable rim sherds, including the “utilitarian” wares. The problem

of separating Early Inka/Killke pottery from contemporaneous pottery manufactured and

used outside of the early Inka polity’s parameter must be addressed first, but this is

currently not possible. Inka researchers are aware of the limitations of the Killke

classification as originally defined by Rowe (1944; Bauer and Stanish 1990), but even

with close examination of paste types and other technological attributes, I could not

clearly classify the material from Cheqoq in all cases. To better understand if Yunkaray

and Cheqoq are contemporaneous in the pre-Inka period Maras, more extensive

excavations of the LIP component of the site must be done in conjunction with

excavation of LIP Yunkaray. In this way, we could determine if the small percentage of

Killke pottery arrived via exchange prior to conquest or if the Killke component

represents a distinct occupation during Inka domination over the Ayarmaka polity.

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Figure 5.3. Late Intermediate Period and Killke sherds excavated in Area D. (a) possibly Killke; (b) Killke Black-on-Buff bowl; (c) Killke; (d) possibly Killke; (e) possibly Killke; (f-i) LIP decorated unidentified.

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Figure 5.4.Inka-related plate (above) and LIP decorated unidentified jar (below) from Area D.

Excavation units relevant to the present study

CHAP excavated 29 units within 20 “Areas,” but only eight of the Areas are

analyzed here (table 5.1). “Areas” were determined by terrace or architecturally divided

spaces. Those discussed in the detailed analysis for the dissertation are the best preserved

Inka contexts, including domestic, storage, and ceramic workshop sectors. The location,

extension, and architectural elements of each of the eight intensively excavated Areas are

discussed, although in some cases only partial structures were uncovered due to time and

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resource constraints, the limits of our excavation permits with the INC, or local

community politics. The excavated Areas not presented in this dissertation were excluded

due to the relatively small extension of the units, the lack of Inka or intact remains, or the

disturbed state of the context (table 5.2).

Table 5.1. Excavated Areas included in dissertation analysis, including sample sizes of main diagnostic artifact assemblages

Table 5.2. Excavated Areas not included in detailed analysis in this dissertation

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Domestic structures were identified by archaeological assemblage compositions,

context locations, and spatial layout. The few published excavations of rural Cuzco

domestic areas that exist (e.g., Kendall 1994, Kosiba 2010, Niles 1987) indicate, as

Covey has noted (2009a: 250), that the patio group is not the dominant architectural form

(cf. Earle et al. 1987 in a provincial region). Covey points out that the typical form is a

single-room structure of less than 50 m2 without discernible internal divisions and not

laid out in forms that clearly show extended family residence (2009a: 250). At Cheqoq,

excavated domestic spaces were true to this pattern, but there are also a couple of

identified exceptions, such as Area Q and Area J.7

At Cheqoq, XPAS included intensive surface collection of 2% of the site (Covey

and Yépez 2004). That information allowed us to later use the existing grid of intensive

surface collection units to select excavation units. Test units were randomly selected from

A) areas with dense accumulations of Cuzco-Inka pottery east and southeast of the

reconstructed storehouse complex and B) terraces thought to be residential. The result of

the Peruvian archaeological reconstructions completed in the early 2000s at Cheqoq also

provided valuable information as to where excavations would be most successful,

especially for good preservation of organic materials. We placed Units A through F

(except E) as test units near the densest Inka surface assemblages. Units G through U

were placed on random and selected terraces thought to be residential in nature.

We initially placed 2 x 2-meter and 2 x 1-meter test excavation units in order to

identify domestic structures, occupation floors, exterior activity areas, and other features

7 Area J is not described here due to the looted state of the excavated area, but consists of two extant rectangular domestic structures facing one another in the Puktuyoq Sector, just south of Area U.

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for establishing a general layout of the site. Where well-preserved Inka contexts were

encountered, these were expanded as appropriate in 2009 and 2010. In 2009, we exposed

a cross-section of a storehouse (Area F) in order to assess stratigraphy, site formation,

and preservation of organic remains. We also conducted horizontal excavations on one

domestic terrace (Area G). In 2010, we opened a second horizontal unit in the pottery

workshop area (Area U), and we placed several units in five more domestic contexts that

were tested in 2009 (Areas H, M, N, Q, and R). The units that were not extended were

highly eroded or relatively devoid of artifacts. The units extended horizontally were

selected for their preservation. Only six domestic areas and two production areas were

opened horizontally due to time, resources, and the limitations of permits and community

dynamics.

Excavation units that were extended beyond their initial dimensions were

expanded to expose entire structures when possible. Where time and resources did not

permit excavation of the whole, we excavated a trench to expose structure cross-sections.

Excavation followed natural and cultural stratigraphy; strata thicker than 10 centimeters

were divided into 10-centimeter levels. Subdivisions of units were based on 2 x 1 meter

sections to maintain sample comparability. Architectural elements (including walls,

access ways, patios, and other features) were measured when possible, with types and

permanency of building materials evaluated as well.

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Area F - storage

Units within Area F were placed parallel to a long wall in the storehouse sector of

the site, east of the reconstructed storehouses. This Area was selected in order to test

whether the long wall was part of a row of storehouses or was an exterior wall to a group

of domestic structures. A cross-section of the storehouse was excavated near the

southeast corner of the wall. All architecture was subterranean except the south wall that

served as the back wall for a series of storehouses. None of the other storehouses in that

row have been excavated to date. The findings from this Area are described in Chapter 6,

but essentially an LIP and Inka floor was found above a sterile stratum. The extension

excavated was 12 m2, to a maximum depth of 105 cm below the surface (fig. 5.5).

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Figure 5.5. Plan view of Area F storehouse excavation

Area G - domestic

A single excavation unit was placed in Area G a few terrace levels above Area F

in one of the randomly selected domestic terraces. These units abutted a large rock

outcrop (figs. 5.6, 5.7). We placed the units adjacent to the outcrop as we suspected it

might form part of a subsurface wall. Excavations uncovered a single compacted floor

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over sterile clay and bedrock. A double-faced wall ran along the length of the outcrop

parallel to the terrace length, but was not completely straight. We uncovered five meters

of wall on the north-south end, but encountered no other architectural features. The

dimension and shape of the structure is uncertain, but it did adjoin the large outcrop. The

structure is treated as a domestic context based on the artifact assemblage. 16 m2 were

excavated to a maximum depth of 90 cm below the surface.

Figure 5.6. Photo showing natural clay below the floor level in Area G excavation (UE 7 and 7A). North is to the right.

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Figure 5.7. Plan view of Area G excavation

Area H - domestic

Two test units and two subsequent larger units were opened on this terrace, the

highest excavated on the Cerro Ahuayro portion of the site. It was selected randomly

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from among the domestic terraces and is located near the eastern and southeastern limits

of Cheqoq. Morphologically, this terrace is similar to that of Area G, overlooking the

storehouse sector of the site (the other excavated terraces are at a point that cannot

feasibly look down toward the storage complex) (fig. 5.8). In this Area, we opened 41 m2

of space, excavating to a maximum depth of 130 cm below the surface level.

Figure 5.8. View from north of Area H excavations in 2010 (UE 22) at the base of Cerro Ahuayro. Semi-circular structure is located in the east, patio cooking area and burial in west.

Excavations uncovered a semi-circular domestic structure in its entirety (fig. 5.9,

5.10, 5.11). This structure is connected to an east-west wall with two faces that

incorporated ashlars (cut, rectangular blocks). The structure was built over a compacted

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floor constructed from the natural clay of the hillside (sterile soil and bedrock were found

beneath the floor inside and outside the structure). The structure was approximately 3

meters in diameter (4.7 m2 interior space), and opened toward Area G and the Maras

Plain to the north. It had collapsed post-occupation and the floor was covered in wall fall

above a well-preserved occupation stratum. A small midden was identified near the north

opening and a patio area was found just west of the structure. The patio yielded evidence

for food preparation and cooking, as well as the remains of a flexed burial. Area H

included the only circular structure found at Cheqoq.

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Figure 5.9. Plan view of east side of Area H horizontal excavation with semi-circular structure.

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Figure 5.10. View from south of the floor of the semi-circular structure in Area H

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Figure 5.11. Floor of semi-circular structure in Area H

Area M - domestic

This Area is located at the front (storehouse-facing) portion of the upper sector

(Sector Saqsaywaman) of Cerro Cheqoq. Two sections of Area M were excavated, a test

unit and a larger subsequent unit not connected to the test unit (fig. 5.12). This terrace

was selected randomly from among the domestic terraces. The unit tested in 2009 was

placed adjacent to a rock outcrop in order to find an integrated wall. It yielded an Inka

floor above carved bedrock. A subsequent unit placed south of the initial test pit revealed

a rectangular structure facing southeast (fig. 5.13). The rectangular structure was only

partially uncovered, but did include a compacted floor with one section that was paved

with irregular stones. The exposed walls were double-faced and typical of Inka domestic

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masonry. Part of a large decorated vessel was found on the paved section, but was not of

the Cuzco-Inka style (fig. 5.14). A small square stone-lined feature inside the structure

contained a layer of large pottery sherds (Cuzco-Inka, Inka-related, and utilitarian). The

structure measured 60 cm by 60 cm on the inside and 100 cm by 100 cm on the outside

and was 25 cm deep. In addition to the mixed decorated and utilitarian pottery within the

feature (fig. 5.15), there were a few bones of guinea pig and camelid, including an adult

camelid pubis and acetabulum. The feature does not appear to be a common refuse pile or

a ritual offering, but does seem to demarcate something different and perhaps special.

Area M was excavated to a total 23 m2, with a maximum depth of 105 cm below the

surface.

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Figure 5.12. Plan view of horizontal excavation in Area M

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Figure 5.13. Area M (UE 13) from north

Figure 5.14. Vessel bottom found on paved section of Area M

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Figure 5.15. Inka-related vessel (left) and unidentified decorated shallow bowls found in the small square feature in Area M

Area N - domestic

Area N is located just west of Area M, in the next terrace up (between Areas Q

and M) and was chosen randomly from the domestic terraces. Three small units were

opened. The first revealed a semi-compacted floor with an ashy feature (fig. 5.16) and the

other two revealed more disturbed contexts in the plowzone (see Steinberg 1996).

Without evidence of walls or even traces of architectural features, as well as the absence

of compacted floors found in other domestic contexts, this Area is probably an exterior

area or patio associated with a domestic structure or structures. The artifact assemblage

includes more Cuzco-Inka decorated pottery and more serving vessels than other areas,

likely because it is associated with a patio. A total of 17 m2 were excavated to a

maximum depth of 125 cm below surface level.

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Figure 5.16. Detail of Inka floor with the edge of a hearth in southeast corner of UE 14 in Area N (shown in dashed line)

Area Q - domestic

Area Q is centrally located next to the peak of Cerro Cheqoq and was chosen

from among domestic terraces for that reason. It is one of the larger terraces visible

today. Our excavations revealed two structures facing a single patio (figs. 5.17, 5.18,

5.19). The larger structure had a compacted floor and just three walls, measuring 6 m

north-south by 12 m east-west (66 m2 of interior space). The smaller structure to the

southwest measured 6.3 m north-south by 3.6 m east-west, with a compacted white clay

floor and four walls (11.7 m2 interior space). The east wall had a single row of stones

abutting the double-faced structure. A circular feature of 20 cm by 20 cm was found

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intruding into the Late Formative occupation below the open structure, at its south (open)

end (fig. 5.20). The feature was 37 cm deep, and included an undecorated narrow-mouth

jar (28 cm tall), fragments of Spondylus shell, and a matrix of burned organics. Area Q’s

architecture, spatial layout, location within the site, and artifact assemblage appear to

indicate it housed persons of a higher status, likely an administrator at Cheqoq. A total of

41 m2 of excavation were opened in Area Q, with a maximum excavated depth of 185 cm

below the surface.

Figure 5.17. UE 25 seen from the west. The mounded wall in the north covers the north wall of the three-sided structure.

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Figure 5.18. Four-walled structure in Area Q, showing partially excavated prepared white clay floor. Note the back wall of the terrace on the west side.

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Figure 5.19. Plan view of UE 25 in Area Q, showing two rectangular structures

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Figure 5.20. Overhead view from north of UE 25 before opening patio sub-units

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Area R - domestic

This terrace measures about 20 m by 20 m, and is one of the smallest terraces at

the site. It was chosen for that reason, and is situated in the northeast limit of Sector

Saqsaywaman, two terraces below Area Q. Two units were excavated; a rectangular 3-

wall structure measuring 160 cm north-south by 100 cm east-west on the interior (1.6 m2)

(fig. 5.21) and an area of unknown dimensions with a diagonal wall of single stones. The

first structure included a prepared white clay floor, while the second was less formal. The

latter incorporated a possible small hearth made of four stones propped together. An

extension of 14 m2 was opened in Area R, excavating to a maximum depth of 70 cm.

Figure 5.21. Plan view of UE 18, the smaller three-walled structure in Area R

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Area U – pottery production

This Area is a terrace located at the eastern limit of the domestic sector. The area

of occupation measures 10 m (north-south) by 6 m (east-west) and includes a likely

pottery workshop. Area U was chosen for test excavation due to the anomalously high

density of Cuzco-Inka pottery and production by-products on the surface of the terrace.

Horizontal excavation of the terrace revealed two spaces on either side of an east-west

double-faced wall. The south side of the wall was elevated, with a firing area adjoined to

a retaining wall, a paved floor, and a midden. In the northern half of the terrace, the floor

was lower than in the south and yielded evidence for pottery forming and finishing

activities. In Area U, a total of 41 m2 were excavated, including 2 m2 apart from the

workshop and 39 m2 within it (65% of the workshop surface). We excavated to a

maximum depth of 170 cm.8

Recovery and analysis of archaeological remains

Systematic analysis of all available artifact classes was done to test the hypotheses

described above for each of the eight horizontally excavated domestic and production

Areas. All artifacts and ecofacts were recovered by hand or through dry screening with

¼” mesh and collected by level and sub-unit and bagged and tagged accordingly.

Material culture was systematically collected and recorded, including ceramics, chipped

stone, groundstone, worked bone, shell, metals, production residue, and others.

8 Photos and drawings of Area U are included in Chapter 7.

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We separated ceramics with visible organic residues before washing, as well as a

random sample of up to five non-diagnostic sherds from each context. All non-diagnostic

sherds with a surface diameter less than 25 mm (measured with a Peruvian nuevo sol coin

at the site) were separated, counted, and weighed and left at the site. After washing all

other ceramic sherds and objects, non-diagnostic materials were separated, counted, and

weighed. Non-diagnostic ceramics (those not slipped with a different color, painted, or

pattern-burnished and those that were not rims, bases, handles, necks, or appliqués) from

2009 were analyzed by paste type to ensure that no important data were lost in excluding

these from the more detailed analysis done with all diagnostic pottery. Non-diagnostic

fragments were returned to Cheqoq for reburial, as stipulated by INC guidelines. To

determine function and use of pottery, we observed the following attributes: vessel style

(Cuzco-Inka, Local Inka, Local Late Intermediate Period, utilitarian, etc.); vessel form;

measurements of rims, walls, and orifices; use of pigments; decorative technique and

location; paste type; oxidation; interior and exterior finishes; and evidence for burning or

other usage (Rice 1987).

Lithic analysis focused on deriving information on food procurement and

processing, as well as raw material origin (Adams 2002, Andrefsky 2005). Technological

and morphological analyses of other artifacts such as shell and worked bone were also

completed. Bulk flotation samples were collected systematically from every type of

sediment in each unit; microartifactual analyses (heavy fraction) of floor contexts were

undertaken to assess activity areas, especially including burned plaster, microdebitage,

mica, and artifacts unable to be recovered from dry screening.

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Faunal, macrobotanical, and anthracological (wood carbon) remains were

collected and analyzed to assess processing, production, and consumption contexts to

contribute to testing both hypotheses. Hand recovery and dry screening were used to

recover some macrobotanical and faunal materials. In addition, each excavation context

(defined by natural and cultural stratigraphy) was bulk sampled for up to 10 liters (though

sometimes more when dealing with possible hearths, suspected offerings, etc.) of

sediment for flotation (Lennstrom and Hastorf 1995, Pearsall 2000). Smaller samples

were collected when there was insufficient sediment in a stratum.

A total of 335 flotation samples were processed with a simple system of buckets

and sieves. A 40-liter bucket was filled two-thirds with clean water before processing

each 5-liter bag of sediment). A mesh-bottom geological bucket with 2 mm (2009) or 1

mm (2010) sieve inside the larger bucket retrieved the “heavy fraction” from each

sample. “Light fraction” was recovered by repeatedly agitating the water with hands and

sweeping a panty hose-lined filter through the surface of the water. The water was

agitated at least three times or until no more remains floated to the top. The agitated mix

was finally poured through the pantyhose filter. All carbonized botanicals that did not

float were subsequently collected from the heavy fraction sample after drying.

The Laboratorio de Investigaciones Arqueobotánicas del Perú (LIAP) at the

Museo de Historia Natural of the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos in Lima,

led by Gabriela Bertone Pietrapertosa, analyzed all macrobotanical and anthracological

samples. Due to expected preservation limitations in the humid highlands of Cuzco, only

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carbonized remains were considered to be archaeological. Counts of floral species were

analyzed to compare the ubiquity and density of taxa by context.

Faunal remains were similarly analyzed by taxa, element, element part, NISP

(number of identified specimens), MNE (minimum number of elements), and MNI

(minimum number of individuals) measures (Hillson 2005, Reitz and Wing 2008), also

examining ubiquity and percentages by excavation contexts. Age, taphonomy, and

pathological markers were included as well (deFrance 2009a, Kent 1982, Sandefur 2001,

Wheeler 1983). Faunal materials were collected by hand, dry screening, and flotation.

Identifications were done with comparative collections and drawings. Unidentifiable taxa

were determined to be mammalian or otherwise when possible and all specimens were

identified to the most detailed classification possible with confidence.

We found only one burial in the Inka period excavations. However, there were

isolated human remains throughout the excavations. Most of the isolated Inka remains

were analyzed by Dr. Valerie Andrushko in 2010. However, the only intact Inka burial

recovered was found after Dr. Andrushko had already departed from Peru; instead, Sarah

Kennedy and I studied the other human remains. In addition to recording all attributes of

the mortuary context in the field, sex, age, skeletal completeness, and markers of disease

and pathologies were observed subsequently in the laboratory.9

9 It would be ideal to seek funds and permission to perform Sr isotope analysis of tooth enamel to examine differences in Sr values that indicate migration patterns (Andrushko 2007, Turner et al. 2009). Human remains may also be used in the future for stable carbon isotope analysis to determine the variation in δ13C ratios and analyze dietary differences by status and gender (Hastorf 1990).

All archaeological materials were returned to the National Institute of Culture in Cuzco for storage at the state-administered facilities in Tipón, outside Cuzco. The collections may be accessed in the future for further analysis by those who acquire a permit from the Ministry of Culture.

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The results of these analyses of excavated material are described in the following

four chapters. Data are separated into assemblages reflecting subsistence production, craft

production, food consumption, and consumption of other artifacts. Contextualizing

consumption of staple and wealth goods by first exploring production at Cheqoq makes

linkages between assemblages and social status or identity more meaningful. Together,

results presented in Chapters 6, 8, and 9 contribute to testing hypothesis 1. The results of

pottery production in Chapter 7 and possible household-based production in Chapter 9

contribute to testing hypothesis 2.

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Chapter 6

AGROPASTORAL ECONOMY AMONG CHEQOQ HOUSEHOLDS

This chapter addresses agropastoral production and procurement at Cheqoq and

attempts to identify which households participated in particular production activities. The

data discussed here include agricultural cultivation, storage of staple goods, animal

husbandry, and hunting. Production is viewed from the site level and the household level,

to the extent possible, in order to understand the relationship between production and

procurement of foods and the consumption of the same. For the most part, the data

described here relate to staple goods produced for subsistence. However, the discussion

of hunting relates to procurement of foods better considered luxury goods. Evidence for

hunting may connote elite privilege or the contravention of elite proscriptions. This

chapter serves to explore how the site on the whole and individual households organized

production and procurement of food, via several datasets: CHAP’s excavated lithic tools,

macrobotanical remains, and faunal remains; and XPAS’s regional settlement patterns

and archival data.

The questions posed in thinking about agropastoralism and hunting economies

are: what types of food production were undertaken by Cheqoq residents? How were

these activities organized from one household to another? And can we confirm that estate

laborers and/or administrators were responsible for their own subsistence production?

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Ethnohistorically, we have seen that retainer populations at state farms and estates

were allegedly provided access to fields and herds for their own subsistence.

Archaeologically, we should be able to find evidence supporting or falsifying that

historically based hypothesis. A household-by-household evaluation allows us to discern

if all households produced equally and engaged in the same activities or if there was an

uneven share in the burden. If only some households produced food, then we may be able

to assign labor categories and hierarchical distinctions to household units. By comparing

the production evidence with consumption evidence, we may be able to determine if

laborers at Cheqoq produced only for themselves or if they also contributed to the food

economies of the estate and its faction.

If intermediate elite administrators and laborers produced for their own

subsistence or for the nobility, then we should find tools used in production and indirect

types of evidence (e.g., stored foods) that support a priori reconstructions of the

subsistence economy based on ethnohistory and regional settlement patterns. Later, in

Chapter 8, I explore for whom food was produced by examining consumption at the

household level in comparison with the production reviewed here. While we already

know that Cheqoq was involved in large-scale storage, we do not know the particulars of

what goods were stored and how they relate to other types of productive activities. A

more thorough review will allow us to assess the relationship of retainers to nobles in a

more comprehensive way than would be possible with just settlement or archival

information and provide insight into the multiple economic endeavors undertaken at

Cheqoq to sustain the site’s population and perhaps to support the panaqa.

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Ethnohistory and regional archaeology provide a general baseline for pre-Inka and

Inka agropastoral economies in the Maras region. Chronicle accounts and administrative

documents make reference to herding in Maras prior to Inka incorporation (Sarmiento de

Gamboa 2005[1572]: Ch. 21), as well as under Inka occupation. According to 16th-

century claims by the leaders of Maras, parts of the plain were dedicated to pasturing the

Inkas’ camelids (AGN. Superior Gobierno, 1586, Leg. 1, Cuad. 10).1

The results of INC restoration projects and data from regional settlement studies

indicate that the storage complex at Cheqoq and other nearby sites, such as Machuqollqa,

appear to have been developed into larger facilities along with estate development in the

late Inka period. In documents concerning Maras in the late 16th century, there is a

specific reference to the settlement at Cheqoq:

In terms of crop

cultivation, Covey’s survey found that the Ayarmaka political center and its adjacent

maize-producing terraces were abandoned as part of imperial expansion and

consolidation of the Maras Plain and the development of Thupa Inka Yupanki’s and

Wayna Qhapaq’s royal estates (Covey et al. 2008). Maize agriculture was largely

abandoned with the exception of fields on the slopes leading into the Urubamba valley.

Inka period settlement in Maras was in the tuber and quinoa-producing zones and appears

to have been dedicated at least partially to herding.

a hill called Aypanuqui, and by another name Aypairo [Aguayro] that is next to the town of San Francisco de Maras, that borders on one end with the royal road to Xaquixaguana and on the other end with the quarry of the Inka, large corrals and storehouses of the Inka with their houses with roof tiles and with their garden (ADC, Beneficencia. Leg. 5-6 [1596-1599], f. 352; translation mine).2

1 This citation was given by Alan Covey.

2 Original transcription: ”un cerro llamado Aypanuqui y por otro nombre Aypairo [Aguayro] que esta junto al pueblo de San Francisco de Maras, que colinda por un lado con el Camino Real a Jaquijaguana y por otra parte con la canteria del ynga y corralones y depósitos del ynga con sus casas de texa de vivienda y con su

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This source referred to the hill of Ahuayro, which is the larger hill making up the Inka

settlement of Cheqoq and probably the place referenced in Sarmiento de Gamboa’s

account of Yawar Waq’aq’s kidnapping by the Ayarmakas (2007[1572]: Ch. 20-21). The

referenced site is undoubtedly Cheqoq, which has corrals, storehouses, houses, and

quarries, is located next to the town of Maras, and is adjacent to the Inka road to

Xaquixaguana.

Six types of data are discussed here in seeking to understand four aspects of

production, although not all data types inform directly on each type of production.

Regional settlement patterns, for example, are at best an indirect marker of herding

camelids or farming certain cultivars. Meanwhile, the presence of maize and quinoa

inside a storage structure are direct evidence for storing those goods, with caveats.3

To

summarize the above discussion, table 6.1 shows aspects of the data and the inferential

potential for each.

huerta.” This transcription is found in Guevara (2004) without citation of the archival source. Citation of the archival document was provided by Alan Covey. 3 Because macrobotanical remains are all necessarily carbonized at highland sites (due to preservation), the ecofacts may have been deposited in these contexts due to an activity other than storage. Storing maize, of course, would not include the burning of maize. Perhaps the remains were deposited after cooking debris was swept into the storehouse accidentally, for example.

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Table 6.1. The inferential potential for evaluating certain aspects of the economy for each data type

Ethnohistorical models of re-settled laborer subsistence production

Artisans and other types of labor specialists living in specialist enclaves under the

Inka were at least partially responsible for their own subsistence production, as seen in

many documentary sources (Covey 2009a: 251). Cheqoq provides the first opportunity to

examine subsistence production at the household level through archaeological

excavation. Generally, the historical evidence indicates that permanent retainers

(yanakuna) and re-settled laborers (mitmaqkuna) in the highlands largely provided their

own subsistence goods via usufruct rights to productive lands given by the state or their

noble patrons.4

4 Betanzos wrote of a case in which 15,000 mitmaqkuna brought by Pachakutiq’s son Yamqui Yupanki from the Guancavilcas, Cañares, and Yungas brought “seeds for their maintenance from their lands” upon migrating to Cuzco (1996[1557]: 120), but how retainers were provisioned subsequent to re-settlement was not addressed.

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Documentary evidence published on state farm and state craft specialist enclaves

provides insight into the organization of subsistence among state-attached retainer

populations. These include the Cochabamba state farm and a community of silversmiths

near Zurite (between Anta and Maras). To examine estate-associated agricultural and

craft production enclaves, I briefly discuss the cases of Tipón and Yucay. The Abancay

farm has been interpreted as a state institution, but may instead be a royal estate

installation.5

The Cochabamba state farm was home to state-attached permanent mitmaqkuna

and some rotational laborers resettled by Wayna Qhapaq (Gyarmati and Varga 1999, La

Lone and La Lone 1987, Wachtel 1982).

6 Mitmaqkuna working to feed the military from

the Cochabamba farm received plots (probably strips along the edges) of the Inka’s land

or had access to subsistence goods through plots in their kurakas’ names (Wachtel 1982).

As at Cochabamba, products from the Abancay farm went to state warehouses to feed the

army on its campaigns abroad (La Lone and La Lone 1987: 53) and were kept separate

from the goods produced for household consumption. Lacking usufruct rights to the

state’s fields in Abancay, each mitmaq was given one or two tupus for subsistence

(Espinoza 1973).7

5 The locations of Abancay and Cochabamba are pictured in figure 1.1 and the locations of Zurite, Yucay, and Tipón can be found in figure 1.2.

6 Though allegedly there were also yanakuna attached to Thupa Inka Yupanki working a parcel there (Wachtel 1982: 201). 7 The language used to describe the Abancay farm makes it unclear whether the lands pertained to the Inka state and provisions for military campaigns or to the Inka ruler himself. The original document studied by Espinoza (1973) specifies that the lands were moyas del Inka, which typically indicates an estate association (see Niles 1987-89).

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Litigation from a different type of state retainer enclave in Picoy (Zurite) – craft

specialists rather than agricultural specialists -- demonstrates how silversmiths from

Ychma (central Peruvian coast) may have been provisioned while working for the empire

in a settlement near Cuzco (Espinoza 1983). Two competing versions of the story

emerge: one alleged that the silversmith mitmaqkuna did not eat the products of the fields

given to them by Wayna Qhapaq in the resettlement process, but rather were provided

food in return for their work as official metallurgists (1983: 39). The other version of the

story claimed that the state provided puna and kichwa lands for the migrants to farm for

their subsistence. The former version came from witnesses from Ayllu Mayu (allegedly

the original inhabitants of Picoy), who attempted to re-claim pre-Inka ancestral lands for

their ethnic group in the Colonial period.8

An example of a mitmaq settlement associated with an estate comes from

southeast of Cuzco, where mitmaqkuna labored at Guaiparmarca and Ocomarca in

service to the state or an estate (La Lone and La Lone 1987: 55).

Espinoza concluded that the silversmiths

produced metal items while simultaneously farming and herding for subsistence. This is

the most likely scenario since other cases show that specialist enclaves in the highlands

were not directly provisioned with their food. Testimony from Ayllu Mayu was

motivated by a desire to re-claim lands that were no longer theirs (or perhaps were never

theirs) but which probably corresponded to the specialist enclave under Inka rule.

9

8 The Mayu were an honorary Inka group that lived on the Anta Plain under the Inkas and were reduced into Zurite in the 16th century (Covey 2006b: 139, 209).

Mitmaqkuna there

worked the Inka’s lands and received clearly separate tracts for themselves. In the 1570s,

the mitmaqkuna sued for the rights to these lands. Settled originally by Thupa Inka

9 These lands were possibly part of the Tipón estate (La Lone and La Lone 1987: 60).

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Yupanki, there were 300 to 400 colonists in Wayna Qhapaq’s time. In the early Colonial

lawsuit, witnesses stressed the difference between the corrals and fields of the Inka and

the fields that the estate provided for the workers (La Lone and La Lone 1987: 56).

Ample archival information on the subsistence economies of yanakuna is best

found in the case of Wayna Qhapaq’s Yucay estate. The Yucay yanakuna received

parcels of land for their own production from the panaqa, bordering around the ruler’s

and his noble relatives’ lands (Villanueva 1970a: 37). Those fields were grouped

according to ethnic affiliation and retainers were not permitted to take from the crops of

the fields of the panaqa or the Sun cult. Surplus produce from the panaqa’s and Sun

cult’s fields was eventually sent to Cuzco for storage, though (idem: 38-43). Cheqoq was

probably one of the loci for keeping those extra crops, though it has not been recognized

in such in previous studies due to its architectural invisibility prior to 2004.10

All these examples describe a pattern in which retainers and rotational laborers

were permanently and temporarily re-settled at productive sites where they produced

craft or staple goods for the state or the nobility while separately providing for their own

subsistence via usufruct rights (La Lone and La Lone 1987). Subsistence production took

place with fields granted in close proximity to the workplace. However, access to camelid

herds for subsistence is less clear. The archival documents discussed above did not

address the question of rights to herds and pasture land. Furthermore, the chronicler

Betanzos’ description of how the Inka Pachakutiq set up yanakuna rights and

10 Niles’ study of Wayna Qhapaq’s estate did not include Cheqoq, as it was not architecturally visible. Instead, her reconstruction of the movement of stored goods from the Yucay Valley to Cuzco included Waynaqollqa, a storage site on the south slope of the Yucay Valley (1999: 198).

159

responsibilities described houses and fields provided to them, but makes no mention of

livestock for the retainers (1996[1557]: Pt. 1, Ch. XVII).

Households of laborers probably shared in the responsibilities of subsistence

production, with the yana or mitmaq of the household focusing primarily on their

(specialist) labor assignment. Archaeology at Cheqoq enables us to understand how a

household might have organized its activities to fulfill subsistence and tributary needs

and how Cheqoq, while an economic support site to the Yucay estate, might have

organized subsistence needs.

Crop cultivation

Agricultural tools recovered in and adjacent to households may be used indirectly

to reconstruct the organization of farming. Assessing which households participated in

agriculture at Cheqoq is, however, problematic for several reasons. First, many tools

today used for plowing, planting, weeding, harvesting, and other crop-related activities in

traditional highland communities are made wholly or partially of wood (see Rivero 2005

for an encyclopedic description of all the types). Second, the available artifacts – namely

clodbreakers, which are here interpreted as agricultural tools – may be classified as

weapons by those studying warfare (e.g., Arkush 2011: 94-5). Furthermore, domestic

contexts may not be the primary storage or abandonment locus for agricultural tools, as

indicated by finds in the Mantaro Valley. Inka villages near the most productive

farmlands there were full of agricultural tools such as hoes and clodbreakers, whereas

researchers encountered a dearth of tools for other productive activities (D’Altroy 2003:

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273). Russell posited that tools were not recovered in the settlements further from fields

because farmers left their tools at the fields and/or converted the material for other uses

upon breakage (1988: 147; see also Abraham 2010: 257). The situation was similar at

Cheqoq, which was not adjacent to the most productive agricultural lands.

Preparing fields for potato planting, for example, is today accomplished with the

chakitaqlla, a foot plow constructed with some combination of wood, rope, metal, and

stone elements (Rivero 2005: 65), although none of the lithics recovered from Cheqoq

was a good candidate for the qurana portion of the chakitaqlla implement: a flattish

elongated stone that functions like a shovel to upturn soil for the rows needed for tuber

planting. Some lithics analyzed for food processing in Chapter 8 could have also been

tied to a wooden handle for clodbreaking. Lithic objects often serve multiple functions

within a household.

The most common find at Cheqoq associated with crop cultivation was the wini, a

donut-shaped stone tied to a wooden handle and used by hand to break clumps of dirt

(fig. 6.1). These were used in the secondary stages of field preparation subsequent to use

of a chakitaqlla. The shape of the wini purportedly helped to maintain the topsoil and rich

organic material (Rivero 2005: 89). Only one of the four recovered examples (all from

domestic contexts; one each originating in Areas G, H, Q, and R) was a finished wini; the

other three were partially drilled (fig. 6.2). The finished wini came from above a patio

floor in Area R, while the other three were recovered on a floor corresponding to either

the interior or a patio (Area G) and definite patio floors adjacent to domestic structures

(Areas H and Q). These unbroken and unfinished winikuna may reveal another reason

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that not many agricultural tools were encountered in the excavations. Finished tools

likely stayed nearer to fields, as suggested by other researchers.11

All the winikuna were made of locally available materials as near as the Maras

Plain or the Anta Plain. These include quartzitic sandstone, rhyolite, and granite (Carlotto

et al. 1996).

12

The agricultural tools could thus be constantly produced and replaced,

making their way into the household for other tasks if broken in manufacture or field use.

11 An alternative explanation for these unfinished implements is that they were rather used as netherstones (Adams 2002: 143) for grinding. However, the unfinished example from Area Q has wear on both faces, indicating it was struck against alternating surfaces, inconsistent with use as a netherstone. 12 XPAS found outcrops of red quartzitic sandstone and quartzite around the Anta Plain (Davis 2010: 80). There was also extensive evidence of lithic procurement in the hills above nearby Mahuaypampa and Chequerec (Alan Covey, personal communication 2012).

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Figure 6.1. Mock-up of a wini with wooden handle (after Rivero 2005: 89) and drawing of an unfinished wini recovered in Area G (anterior and medial views; based on original drawing by Andrea Balderamos)

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Figure 6.2. Remaining winikuna recovered in other domestic contexts. One (possible) agricultural tool was found in each of four domestic contexts: Areas G, H, Q, and R.

A pattern of presence and absence may be emerging, in which Areas M and N

yielded no clodbreakers while other domestic areas did. However, absence of tools in our

excavated sample should be cautiously accepted as indicating absence overall. The

presence of production evidence in at least some households suggests that Cheqoq was

not a community that was exclusively engaged in non-agrarian activities. Some of the

Cheqoq households engaged in crop production at some level (perhaps only participating

in certain aeration or plowing activities, for example). It is possible that the households

that do not present evidence of cultivation activities are of a higher status or participated

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primarily in administrative tasks and were given their subsistence goods. However, we

will assess a suite of material remains before making additional inferences.

Hunting

Hunting represents a production activity supplementary to agropastoralism rather

than a primary source of subsistence. Ethnohistorical accounts of hunting preserves for

the Inkas’ estates (Niles 1999) and references to hunting restrictions (Cieza de León

1864[1553]: 288) further indicate that retainer populations did not regularly engage in

such activities. Animals likely to have been hunted make up a very small portion of the

identified faunal assemblage. Though it is possible that some of the camelids were wild

species – guanacos or vicuñas – we did not attempt to differentiate species of Camelidae.

Very minor percentages of deer (Cervidae), viscacha (Lagidium peruanum), and

Muscovy duck (Cairinha moschata)13

Probable projectile points from Cheqoq were all recovered in patio spaces outside

of domestic structures (table 6.2). Two of three were fragmented and all were small

(weighing less than 10 g). Whereas the farming tools were made of local raw materials,

two of the points were of obsidian, a material found no nearer than Arequipa (Alca or

were recovered, indicating that hunting formed

part of the subsistence economy, but in minor amounts. Furthermore, chipped stone tools

were not common and there were only a few objects that possibly served as projectile

points for hunting (fig. 6.3). Flake tools were fairly abundant, but not of the type suitable

for projectiles.

13 Muscovy duck may have been a domesticate or a hunted wild species. I was unable to differentiate through osteological analysis (Donkin 1989, Stahl 2005).

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Chivay) or Ayacucho (Puzolana, Quispisisa, or Jampatilla) (see Burger et al. 2000, Craig

et al. 2007, and Tripcevich 2010 on obsidian sources). Aside from projectile points, a

quartzitic sandstone slingstone (with a notched slinghold) was found in the patio of Area

Q and was probably used in hunting.

Figure 6.3. Quartz unifacial point from Area R (left) and obsidian bifacial point from Area H (right)

Table 6.2. Summary of stone toolkits associated with cultivation and hunting, by household area.

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Camelid herding and husbandry

Domesticated camelids – llamas and alpacas – were and are highly regarded by

Andean societies for their economic uses but also for their ceremonial purposes such as

sacrifices and other rites. Economic uses for llamas include caravanning, hides, meat, and

fuel (guano). Alpacas also are economically valuable for their hides and fiber (for textile

production). Alpacas prefer wet areas like the Pampa de Anta (Bonavia 2008: 52-3,

Flores Ochoa 1968: 88), but llamas thrive in dry grassland, eating low-quality grasses and

even cacti (Bonavia 2008: 46-7).

Llamas were more likely kept at Cheqoq than alpacas based on the above

observation and the archaeological faunal remains. All the mandibular incisors studied

from the Cheqoq camelid remains had enamel on both sides, whereas alpacas just have

enamel on the labial side (Davis 2010: 46). Based on the evidence favoring llamas,

Cheqoq’s herds were probably used not for their fiber (alpaca fiber is used more

commonly for its finer texture), but rather for carrying loads, for their guano, and as a

meat source. Camelid dung is useful for fertilizer (Sandefur 2001: 180), while at Cheqoq

the guano was probably used as a fuel source for ceramic firing in addition.

Caravans between the hinterland and Cuzco brought llamas along royal roads,

carrying products such as salt, coca from the nearby yungas zone (Julien 2000, Wachtel

1977: 111), and other goods (Garcilaso de la Vega 1966[1609]: Book 8, Chapter XVI)

between ecozones. Additionally, llamas would be useful for local transport needs within

the heartland. Niles noted a bridge called Pacachaca that may have linked the Yucay

Valley to Maras, via the salt fields, perhaps near Taracachi (1999: 136).

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The corral complex on the western side of Cheqoq’s domestic sector is comprised

of approximately three hectares of irregular stone enclosures at the base of Cerro

Ahuayro. The corrals are fairly well preserved. Walls up to 1.5-meters high are still

visible, though there are no artifacts on the surface.

We did not excavate this area, but the enclosures fit with expectations for camelid

corrals in the highlands. They may date later than the Inka period, though there are

references to the “corrals of the Inka,” as cited above, which indicate prehispanic use.

The size of camelid corrals identified archaeologically in Junín (central Peruvian

highlands), for example, varies greatly (Parsons et al. 2000: 69). Corral walls are

typically 0.8 to 1 m tall and 0.2 to 0.3 m thick, enclosing an area from 80 to 1000 m2,

though the typical enclosure is 100 to 250 m2. Ethnographic studies have found that

larger settlements have rectangular corrals while smaller settlements have circular ones

(Flannery et al. 1989: 43-57). Llamas are typically corralled at night (facilitating the

collection of guano, which can be used for fuel), though they may also be left out in the

open (Flores Ochoa 1968). The corrals at Cheqoq are separate from the domestic area but

adjacent to the pottery workshop where they may have supplied fuel for ceramic firings.

If the herds at Cheqoq belonged to the panaqa and residents of Cheqoq merely

cared for the animals, it seems likely that the non-nobles would not have regular access to

the highest quality of meat (with highest quality being defined as younger animals with

more tender meat or by highest meat-yielding skeletal portions of the animal).14

14 An analysis of skeletal portion in relation to meat yield is presented in Chapter 8, demonstrating that residents of Cheqoq had access to meaty portions of the camelid across the sampled households.

The

record would reflect an emphasis on old and unproductive animals being consumed by

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non-nobles. On the other hand, herds managed and owned by Cheqoq residents would

yield an archaeological record of camelids of a variety of ages, as households were able

to choose the animals for slaughter on their own. A variety of ages in the camelid death

assemblage would indicate autonomous management of the herd and consumption within

a variety of scenarios including occasional consumption of younger animals in

celebratory or ceremonial settings, and also consumption of older animals culled from the

herd once their economic value has diminished.15

Herd management and herd function can be evaluated through age at death

profiles and pathological markers of Camelidae (fig. 6.4). The Inka Cheqoq mortality

profile and osteological evidence indicate the herd was culled for older animals after they

had served in carrying loads rather than mostly slaughtering for optimal meat at younger

ages. In Xauxa, the same pattern emerged, which Sandefur attributed to their good use in

fiber production during their younger years (2001). Older camelids were eaten at

Huánuco Pampa (Wing 1988) and at Qhataq’asallaqta in the Cuzco Valley (Flores Ochoa

1982: 69-70) as well. On the other hand, D’Altroy and his colleagues found that prime

age and sub-adult camelids were slaughtered for meat in Inka contexts, likely for state-

sponsored feasting events. They note that local sites practiced the more economical

slaughtering of older individuals in contrast with the administrative center’s feasting

assemblage (D’Altroy et al. 2007: 117). When comparing age profiles from one

household to another among the six intensively studied here, there were not statistically

15 At Paratía, Flores Ochoa found that the community ate the meat of camelids who had died of natural causes or by accident or who were killed due to old age (1968: 94). Unproductive animals – those too old for breeding, camelids too old for cargo loads (around 15 years), or alpacas too old for wool production (around 8 years) -- may be culled annually at the start of the dry season (Parsons et al. 2000: 67).

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significant differences (χ2 = 6.829, df = 4, p = 0.145).16

All households had similar access

to camelid age groups for consumption.

Figure 6.4. Bar chart of camelid ages at time of death by minimum number of elements (MNE), following Sandefur’s epiphyseal fusion method (2001) and Wheeler’s tooth wear ages (1982). These counts include age identifiable camelids from all excavations in the Inka period at Cheqoq.

To support the idea that animals were slaughtered after their load-bearing capacity

had diminished, we should find stress markers related to carrying heavy burdens over

long distances. DeFrance demonstrated how osteological signs of degenerative bone

disease are related to occupational stresses such as bearing burdens (2009a). In the Inka

16 Due to small values for certain categories, the contingency table analysis necessitated the combining of age categories (immature, juvenile, and subadult together; adult and old together).

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assemblage at Cheqoq, there were 13 identified camelid elements that showed exostosis,

pitting, or osteophytes on the extremities (table 6.3). Five excavation areas yielded these

bones, three of which were domestic areas M, N, and R, and the other two were eroded

contexts not located near architecture. Area C was an open area south of the storehouses

where we found several elements from two hindlimbs. Area K was an open platform

between the central domestic terraces near Area M and the lower southern domestic

terraces near Area H. The percentage of camelid bones with these pathologies is low

(2.2% of MNE of identified Camelidae elements). DeFrance found comparable

percentages in Colonial assemblages of the Moquegua Valley and Potosí, Bolivia (2009a:

117). The presence and percentage of the pathologies in conjunction with the age profiles

can be interpreted as evidence that camelids killed at Cheqoq had served a life not

intended solely for consumption as meat, but also for caravanning or carrying cargo

locally.

Table 6.3. Osteological analysis of camelid work-related pathologies.

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Herding can be done by the same households that cultivate crops, as shearing

occurs after the planting season in November and December and slaughtering comes after

the May tuber harvest (Flores Ochoa 1968). Herds belonging to the state and the Sun

could number in the thousands while herds owned at family and community levels were

owned in the dozens (Flannery et al. 1989: 109-10).17

The extent of the herd in the Inka

period cannot currently be reconstructed with our extant evidence. Camelids kept at

Cheqoq were probably used for transport, guano production, and as a food source, among

other uses. The settlement appears to have shared equally in the consumption of the

animals as food, focusing on slaughtering for meat after the prime productive and

reproductive years had passed.

Storage

In the provinces, ample evidence for large-scale storage has been found at

provincial administrative centers, such as Huánuco Pampa and Hatun Xauxa (D’Altroy

2003: 271, LeVine 1992). Those surpluses were largely intended to feed the army and

provide for periodic political feasting and ritual events (Betanzos 1996[1557]: Pt. 1, Ch.

XXII; Pizarro 1891[1571]: 555).18

17 Though there are also herd size minimums, as Flannery and colleagues have discovered (1989). Families need to begin with at least 6 animals to sustain herd growth (1989: 134).

In the Cuzco heartland, the Inka gathered surpluses

from productive agricultural enclaves attached to royal estates in particular (Candía 1992,

Covey 2006a, Covey et al. n.d., Huaycochea 1994, Morris 1967, Pilco 2006, Rowe 1944;

see map of known storehouse remains in Covey 2006a: fig. 8.4). Storage of surplus

18 In describing Inka tribute organization, Santillán noted that all the provinces had storehouses filled with food, clothing, shoes, and many other things for the persons going to war (1950[1563-64]: no. 39).

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staples and all kinds of wealth goods and non-comestibles wasobserved in the city of

Cuzco in the early 1530s (Covey 2009a; Pizarro 1891[1571]: 493, 500; Sancho de la Hoz

1968[1534]; Trujillo 1891[1571]: 29) by individuals describing how the Inka organized

storage in the heartland (Betanzos 1996[1557]: Pt. 1, Ch. XII-XIII; Cieza de León

1996[1553]: Chapter XVI).19

Whether for wealth goods or staple goods, storage around Cuzco is distinct from

that found in the provinces (Covey et al. n.d.). There are more and smaller complexes, but

with larger buildings within each (see Protzen’s typology [1993]). Morris noted that the

structures within the Cuzco Valley were rectangular and measured around 6 x 7 m (1992:

168), while those further afield, especially north and northwest of Cuzco, were longer

structures of roughly 5 x 30 m to 5 x 70 m in some cases. In addition to these detached

complexes in the Cuzco Valley, Garcilaso de la Vega (1966[1609]: Pt. 1, Bk. 5, Ch. 5)

and Cieza de León (1959[1533-4]: Pt. I, Ch. 92) described storage within in the Cuzco

aqllawasi and Qorikancha, respectively (Bauer 2004: 97). Machuqollqa (fig. 6.5) and

Cheqoq have residential complexes connected to them; however, since the establishment

of storage complexes at both site pre-dates Inka use, it is not possible to determine the

type of residents present at the site without excavations of those domestic contexts.

Within Wayna Qhapaq’s Yucay estate system, the Inkas allegedly ordered the

products cultivated in the lower valley to be transported to storehouse complexes near

Chinchero (Rostworowski 1970b: 83, Villanueva 1970a: 50). Excavated remains point to

19 Morris described placement, ventilation, and insulation as priorities for the Inka in developing storage at Huánuco Pampa (1967). This technology of ventilation ducts, drainage, and ideal location is in line with what can be seen in many Cuzco region complexes, including storage at Cheqoq, Huaynaqollqa, Machuqollqa, Ollantaytambo, and others (see Covey et al. n.d., Huaycochea 1994).

173

Cheqoq serving as one of the loci to store those staple goods from the valley. Covey has

argued that the Colonial Quechua dictionaries and chronicles point to distinctions

between types of storehouses, ranging from those designed for surplus storage to those

attached to noble houses or the royal estate: a churakuna wasi (Covey et al. n.d.; Guaman

Poma de Ayala 2001[1615]16]: f. 329).

However, some of these complexes, including Cheqoq, have pre-Inka origins. I

argue that smaller complexes operated first under local polities such as the Ayarmaka and

were then converted into estate storage centers upon Inka consolidation. Most storehouse

excavations have not been done with enough stratigraphic control and systematic pottery

analysis to be able to say this with certainty, however. Machuqollqa and Cheqoq do at

least yield convincing evidence that the storehouses within the site were expansions of

previous smaller complexes corresponding to pre-Inka and/or early Inka activity. Morris

recalls Nuñez del Prado’s observation that the huge storehouses at Machuqollqa

(Valencia Sosa 2004) had mostly “Killke” sherds on the surface (Morris 1992: 169).

Several visits to the excavations and laboratory spaces at Machuqollqa in 2010 have

convinced me that most pottery there is indeed Late Intermediate in origin, but not of the

Killke variety (sensu Bauer 1999). Some Inka pottery was present, though the proportion

was not clear. Both the LIP and polychrome Inka sherds were of a different paste and

finish than those types found at Cheqoq.20

20 However, I did not observe the pottery excavated in earlier years from the eastern row of storehouses, which have a different architectural form and were referred to as “Inka and Colonial” by archaeologists at the site. If the Inka polychrome pottery is all of a different paste type than that produced at Cheqoq, then there may be a series of workshops serving different sectors of the rural estate system. Machuqollqa may be linked to Thupa Inka Yupanki’s Chinchero estate; did it have its own workshop(s)?

Storage complexes not originating in the pre-

Inka period may have been developed in tandem with the royal estate lands. The visible

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complexes found across the Sacred Valley are adjacent to royal estate lands and possibly

corresponded to palace complexes. However, we know some storage sites have been and

may still be invisible on the landscape today and cannot definitively link a storage site to

a royal residence in the absence of documentary support.

Figure 6.5. Photo of Machuqollqa storage site from the northwest, showing possibly later and earlier complexes

Some settlement systems around the Urubamba Valley region did not present

stand-alone storage complexes in the LIP and early Inka periods. Rather, archaeologists

have found the continuation of small-scale storage within households that was replaced

by extramural storage only after Inka incorporation of a site. At Wat’a, one of Cheqoq’s

near neighbors, Kosiba found that small pre-Inka storage pits in three LIP domestic

structures were ritually covered and new ones built (2010). The one identified Inka

“Inka and Colonial row” Two rows with LIP/Killke pottery. Longer storehouses.

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storehouse was found in a centralized location next to the central plaza, where it could be

easily controlled, according to Kosiba’s interpretation (2010: 230). We found no such

distinction at Cheqoq. On the contrary, the limited storehouse excavations pointed to

continuity in structure and floor from Ayarmaka to Inka usage, highlighting how

strategies of incorporation changed from the early Inka campaigns (Wat’a) to the later

(Cheqoq as estate production site). In the Inka transition at Cheqoq, it appears that spaces

adjacent to storehouses were cleared out in order to protect the stores from predation.

Domestic spaces were built higher up the hill at the same time.

The INC-Cuzco reconstructed storehouses at Cheqoq between 2002 and 2004

(Guevara 2003, 2004; Soto 2002) (fig. 6.6). The CHAP project excavated 12 m2 of a

cross-section of a storage building, finding a single, intact floor with LIP “undefined,”21

Killke, Inka, and utilitarian pottery, as well as well-preserved adobe receptacles above the

characteristic ventilated floor (Area F; fig. 6.7). The structure measured roughly 4.5 m in

width by 35 m in length, while those excavated by the INC extended a bit longer, up to

45 meters.22

The floor excavated by CHAP was located on top of deteriorated bedrock

with no material culture identified beneath a single occupation floor. Stone-lined

ventilation and drainage ducts typical of Cuzco-Inka storehouses were constructed under

a platform along the back wall that housed a series of rectangular adobe and stone bins

measuring approximately 1 x 1.5 m (figs. 6.8, 6.9).

21 See Appendix B on pottery types. 22 The visible storehouses at Cheqoq all fall within the Type 2 category (see Protzen 1993).

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Figure 6.6. Reconstructed storehouses at Cheqoq. View from the east in Sector Sipas Qhawarina

Figure 6.7. Bird’s eye view of Area F excavation showing adobe bins, storehouse floor, and front and back structural walls (photo taken from on top of back wall) North is to the left.

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Figure 6.8. Area F from the east, with a view of the stone-lined ducts and back wall of the storehouse

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The fragments of a whole, undecorated utilitarian ware wide-mouth jar (urpu)

were recovered on the floor of the storehouse, in association with red-stained camelid

bones and fragments of a variety of other vessel types (jars, pots, plates/bowls), as well as

charred botanicals (fig. 6.10). The jar was broken in situ and probably held liquids. The

rim diameter was 43 cm (fig. 6.11). Other recovered jars had rim diameters of 9 to 20 cm,

representing a broad range of vessel sizes. One pot found in the storehouse had a

carbonized exterior, perhaps used for cooking. Rim diameters of pot types ranged from

12 to 15 cm. Plate and bowl rim diameters ranged from 12 to 21 cm. The presence of a

variety of vessel types associated with serving, storing, and preparation functions in this

storehouse and those reconstructed by the INC indicates the structures had more than one

secondary use. Primarily, they served to store crops, which is supported by architectural

elements and macrobotanical remains. However, secondary uses of the structure must

have been more variable.

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Figure 6.10. Remains of the utilitarian ware urpu shattered on the floor of the storehouse. These two photos show the broken vessel from two perspectives, with the arrow connecting the same point in each photo (the upper photo was taken before excavating unit 6B, which is open to the floor level in the lower photo).

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Figure 6.11. Reconstructed morphology of large, undecorated, utilitarian ware urpu found on the floor of the storehouse in front of the ventilation ducts. We recovered most of the vessel.

Few researchers have attempted to recover and analyze botanical remains in

Cuzco storage complexes. Even fewer studies have been conducted systematically (cf.

Bertone 2010, 2011; Huaycochea 1994). However, the data available do show that a

variety of products were stored at Cuzco sites (table 6.4). Maize was found at Peñas,

Willkaqollqa, and Cheqoq (fig. 6.12). Tubers and quinoa/kiwicha were indentified from

Machuqollqa and Cheqoq (INC researchers identified the tubers visually, but Solanaceae

seeds were identified through CHAP’s systematic sampling [Bertone 2010, 2011]). Beans

may be among the goods identified in Cheqoq storage as well, though secure

identification was not possible.

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Figure 6.12. Locations of some Cuzco region Inka storehouse complexes discussed here. Covey provides a more thorough map of storage in the region (2006a: 176).

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Table 6.4. Taxa identified at Cuzco storehouses

As Lennstrom and Hastorf note, the circumstances under which macrobotanical

remains would be recovered from storehouses are different from those originating in

domestic contexts (1992a: 291), in which foodstuffs come into contact with fire more

frequently. Charred storehouse products would result from events in which the structure

was burned or during the secondary activities described above. Thus, there may be fewer

opportunities to recover the products of storehouses, limiting archaeological possibilities

in the humid environment of the highlands (where noncarbonized botanical remains do

not usually preserve).

However, our systematic sampling recovered more than one type of crop from a

single structure with a single floor (maize, quinoa/kiwicha, and possibly beans and

tubers), while Guevara encountered both maize cobs and tubers in the INC’s excavations

of 19 storehouses to the west of Area F. Machuqollqa researchers had previously

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identified tubers in their excavations and our flotation sampling from that site yielded

quinoa/kiwicha.23

Within his Cheqoq storehouse excavations, Guevara did not find the large

proportions of narrow-mouth jars that Morris has associated with shelled maize storage at

at Huánuco Pampa and other provincial sites (Morris 1967) (table 6.5). Our excavations

had similar results, with little pottery found within the storehouse that would seem to be

used for storing crops (table 6.6). The assemblages found by both projects are dissimilar

to provincial qollqa finds, supporting the idea that the Cheqoq storehouses functioned as

a venue for secondary activities beyond storing surplus crops or that ceramic vessels did

not form part of the storage technology. INC excavations in 2004 at Cheqoq encountered

In addition to information on the types of crops stored, flotation

sampling yielded taxa relevant to storage technology and practices. Just as Topic and

Topic found at Huamachuco (1993), and Morris found at Huánuco Pampa (1967), ichu

grass was identified inside the structure. At the other sites, better preservation allowed

researchers to conclude that it was employed in separating layers of tubers to help

preserve them in storage. At Cheqoq, in addition to possible ichu, we have muña

(Minthostachys sp.). Muña is an herbaceous wild shrub used as a condiment, but also as a

preservative to stave off bacteria, fungi, and insects in storage (Franquemont et al. 1990:

19, Gade 1975: 200). Ichu and muña are particularly associated with tuber storage and

may have been used in a similar way at Cheqoq. Furthermore, ichu is often used as a

roof thatch material (Franquemont et al. 1990: 73) and thus may have been deposited in

the Cheqoq assemblage as part of the remains of the storehouse instead.

23 Archaeologists at the INC excavation of Machuqollqa allowed CHAP to sample the floors and bins of their storehouse excavations in order to compare results from the two storage sites.

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stacks of zoomorphically decorated Cuzco-Inka plates and pots, which they characterized

as offerings due to their location in the corners of storage structures (Guevara 2004).24

Storehouses in rural Cuzco deserve further investigation to parse out the multiple

functions the spaces may have served, whether storage, ritual activities, the provisioning

of the region’s residents upon visits to the complexes, or otherwise.

Table 6.5. Raw counts of vessel types in Guevara’s 2004 excavations of five Cheqoq storehouses, including only Cuzco-Inka types25

24 Systematic analysis of vessel styles and morphologies is not yet available for other Cuzco region storage complexes, which would be useful for comparisons to determine whether the Cheqoq assemblages are anomalous or characteristic of heartland storehouses. 25 Although Guevara’s excavations did find at least one whole utilitarian urpu like the one described above, he did not classify non Cuzco-Inka types. Most of these vessels come from supposed “ceremonial offerings” in the corners and entryways of storage structures.

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Table 6.6. Vessel types and forms identified in the Area F storehouse by CHAP. Table includes the minimum number of vessels recovered from the occupation level of the storehouse only.

The ceramic remains from storehouse excavations at Cheqoq indicate a continued

use of the space before and during the site’s Inka occupation. There are few identifiable

vessel forms from CHAP and the INC excavations, but the available vessel morphologies

point to one scenario for the use of pottery in storing crops at Cheqoq. Perhaps bagged or

loose crops were stored in the adobe bins above the ventilation ducts (elevated off the

floor), while undecorated jars were placed along the floor of the structure to hold some

other crop or liquid. The two simultaneous storage technologies may also explain the

diversity of crops found in each storehouse.

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Figure 6.13. Late Intermediate Period unidentified decorated sherds recovered from levels above the floor in the CHAP storehouse excavation

Organization of subsistence production at Cheqoq

An analysis of agropastoral and subsistence production activities at the site and

household levels provide an understanding of the organization of production and

specialization. This discussion offers insight into the daily lives and subsistence practices

of a royal estate’s labor pool. The results discussed in this chapter do not falsify the

hypothesis that retainers produced their own subsistence goods rather than receiving them

as provisions in exchange for other specialist production activities. In other words, the

archaeological record does not negate the ethnohistoric evidence discussed above in this

particular instance.

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D’Altroy has noted the problems inherent to subject populations in imperial

economies, in which households are subject to conflicts in scheduling labor for the

empire (or the estate) relative to agricultural and subsistence tasks (1994: 190-91). The

household-by-household data from Cheqoq provide initial data on how those conflicts

may have been managed by a community. If Cheqoq households were responsible for all

their own subsistence production in addition to tasks related to craft production and the

administration of storage, the population may have experienced a number of scheduling

challenges (though see Parsons and colleagues on highland scheduling [2000: 74]). .

Each household head (e.g., yana, administrator, etc.) at Cheqoq may have been

engaged in a particular specialist occupation, such as craft production or storage

management, while household members helped to produce subsistence goods, sharing in

the productive responsibilities. Households were not shown here to be highly specialized

in subsistence production. Instead, we find that most households participated in at least

some of the activities. There do not seem to be administrator or craft specialist

households that did not share in the work of herding, farming, or hunting. Households or

individual laborers specializing in salt collection or pottery production, for example,

would only be able to produce during the dry season. During the remainder of the year,

they would be available to work in crop cultivation, herding, hunting, or other subsistence

tasks.

There is no secure manner in which to identify which households participated in

storehouse administration, unless we infer that proximity to the storage sector was

congruent with management of storage. In that case, Area G would be a good candidate

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for storage management. Since all excavated households had comparable evidence of

access high-yield camelid meat and camelid age profiles, they probably shared in the

responsibilities and benefits of herd management. Alternatively, camelid meat may have

been redistributed within the site, with households working together to produce

subsistence goods during the year. In terms of the differences in hunting and cultivation,

we do not find strong evidence for highly specialized subsistence production or highly

variable subsistence remains. The results from this chapter provide the archaeological

baseline for subsistence production, with which we can compare consumption in Chapter

8.

Before discussing consumption in more detail, I address the evidence for pottery

production outside the domestic context in the following chapter. Together, this chapter

and the next demonstrate the organization of subsistence and craft production activities at

Cheqoq and allow us to reconstruct the economy of Cheqoq households and the larger

estate system. In this way, we can evaluate the role that Cheqoq played in supporting the

royal estate and its noble faction and how their production and consumption patterns

articulate with those of the larger Cuzco region.

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Chapter 7

A CUZCO-INKA POTTERY WORKSHOP AT CHEQOQ

Inka researchers have faced challenges in reconstructing the political economy of

the heartland, particularly in terms of the craft economy. Recovery of material evidence

for craft production has been scarce in and around Cuzco (see Covey 2009a), with much

of our understanding based on ethnohistorical reconstructions and finished goods.

Archaeologists have largely had to reconstruct Inka technological and economic patterns

using excavated finished products and museum collections (Bray 2003; Bray et al. 2005;

Chatfield 2010; Costin 1996, 2001b; Costin and Hagstrum 1995; D’Altroy and Bishop

1990). A systematic study of a production facility with direct evidence for imperial style

ceramic production at a site like Cheqoq provides unprecedented information on the role

of the noble economy within the heartland of Tawantinsuyu. The Cheqoq workshop

demonstrates that imperial style ceramic production was not as centralized as previously

thought and did not occur exclusively under the domain of the Cuzco administration.

Craft specialization is correlated with the exercise of power by elites. Peregrine

has suggested that “elites actively employ craftsmen and their products to further their

own political agendas, and that […] craft specialists act as much as political personnel as

they do entrepreneurs or artisans” (1991: 1). Cuzco-Inka pottery is a good example of the

use of craft goods for promoting the power of those who control production. The

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fabrication of such goods within a royal estate would support the idea that noble Inka

factions used the estate labor system for political purposes. They administered factional

production of meaningful goods to maintain their own supply of imperial decorated

pottery for use in important events and everyday elite life. Analysis of craft production at

Cheqoq is used to explore how the estate economy interdigitated with or paralleled the

craft economy of Cuzco. First, I discuss the technology of pottery production at Cheqoq

and its organization, including the techniques of fabrication and the sociopolitical

contexts of ceramic manufacture. I then discuss the implications for economic

relationships and the social aspects of production and distribution (see Halperin and Foias

2010, Hruby and Flad 2007, Schortman and Urban 2004, Shimada and Wagner 2007).

Cheqoq presents strong material evidence for a specialist workshop (Costin 1991)

that fabricated in Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery, a type normally distributed to the elite

and used in state-sponsored activities.1

This workshop was affiliated with a noble lineage

(panaqa), which exercised only a moderate degree of control over production. The results

discussed here indicate that the nobility ensured fidelity to the Inka pottery canon and

supervised distribution of the goods in some measure. Comparison of workshop and non-

workshop remains signifies that more pottery was taken away from Cheqoq than that

which stayed at the site within the domestic assemblages of the local population.

1 By Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery, I refer specifically to the imperial style vessels identified by Rowe as Cuzco Polychrome A and B, Cuzco Buff, Cuzco Red and White, and Cuzco Polychrome Figured, all attributed to production in and around Cuzco (Rowe 1944). Cuzco Polychrome Figured was a rare find at Cheqoq in both the workshop and other contexts. Bauer calls it “Classic Inka” (2004: 91). These types are usually cited as Cuzco-Inka polychrome types due to their concentrated distribution in the imperial heartland rather than previously investigated heartland workshop contexts. This chapter should provide data that help to confirm that those vessel types were produced in close proximity to the Cuzco capital, under both state and noble sponsorship. See Appendix B for drawings, photographs, and descriptions of the types.

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Models of imperial heartland ceramic production

Early Colonial sources long ago established that the production of fancy craft

goods was an important aspect of the Inka political economy (see Covey 2009a).

Francisco Falcón’s list of kamayuqkuna or specialist titles in the empire provided names

for different types of economic pursuits and reveals the emic framework for craft and

other types of production (1918[1567]). His list includes sañukamayuq, who were

highland and lowland specialists tasked with fabricating pottery. The wide variety of

titles used under the Inka indicates that specialization was spread across many industries

and that the Inka promoted expertise in production activities. At Cheqoq, I expected to

find household-based production of prestige or wealth goods (e.g., textiles, pottery,

metals, obsidian or other exotic materials) meant to serve the noble population associated

with Cheqoq or for local elites, as the site was hypothesized to be a large settlement

dedicated to production of different goods on behalf of the estate. I expected production

to be embedded in the domestic sphere -- as commonly done in Andean states (see Nash

2009) – because surface remains did not previously indicate a locus of concentrated

production (or anomalous archaeological context) until the end of the first season

excavating at Cheqoq.

Analysis of the context of craft production at Cheqoq can provide insight into

some key theoretical concerns. By identifying a locus of craft production in an estate-

affiliated site, we can determine which kinds of goods were produced both within state

and estate workshops and thus determine whether lineages kept their craft goods sources

separate from state administrative practices or not. The scale of production and character

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of the workshop’s output can be assessed in comparison with consumption assemblages

at the site to determine for whom the objects were produced. An evaluation of the

workshop’s internal organization can be linked to the ethnohistory of the region to make

some suggestions about control over the workshop and its products and producers.

An important issue at stake is whether Cheqoq was home to independent

specialized production or attached production. The material and ethnohistoric data point

to a context like that which Costin calls nucleated corvée labor (1991).2

Pottery

production at Cheqoq falls within the expectations for specialized production and

specialized producers operating at least part-time (whether due to the demands of

subsistence production or due to seasonality affecting pottery production) in a workshop-

like setting. The identification as a retainer workshop is based on the ethnohistorical

association of Cheqoq with the royal estate system and the nobility there. Further, noble

oversight is hypothesized to be in effect based on the historical context, but also

organization of production and distribution of the ceramic goods.

Known Inka-style pottery production facilities

Based on ethnohistoric accounts, researchers posit that Cuzco-Inka pottery was

produced under close state supervision within the municipal boundaries of Cuzco or in

other elite-controlled areas of the heartland (Covey 2009a: 251). The Cheqoq workshop

falls within Covey’s and others’ expectations for elite sponsorship and supervision

around the region, but there is so far no archaeological evidence for production within the

2 Costin defines nucleated corvée labor as “part-time labor recruited by a government institution, working in a special-purpose, elite, or administered setting or facility” (1991: 9).

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Cuzco Basin. Bauer, however, cites unpublished archival evidence that potters lived in

the modern Cuzco districts of San Sebastián and San Gerónimo (specifically Sañu and

Larapa in the Inka period) in the early Colonial period (2004: 91; Rowe 1946: 243-44).

He also reminds us that good clay sources exist in this area that potters continue to

exploit today. Modern urbanization makes archaeological excavation there difficult, but

those communities may have indeed housed potters fabricating polychrome wares.

Cheqoq demonstrates that production was not highly centralized in the heartland and may

have occurred at multiple specialist workshops producing for the smaller or larger

portions of the heartland region and beyond.

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Figure 7.1. Pottery production sites discussed in this chapter. “E” designates sites known ethnohistorically and not yet subject to archaeological intervention.

Sañukamayuqkuna (or pottery specialists) were re-settled by the tenth ruler Thupa

Inka Yupanki in the 15th century near the Inka administrative center of Cajamarca

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(Espinoza 1970). They were reportedly brought from Collique, located near Chiclayo on

the coast, but also perhaps other communities. Late 16th century witnesses refer to them

as both yanakuna and mitmaqkuna (Espinoza 1970).3

Still, there are few archaeological studies of direct evidence for Inka polychrome

ceramic production, and most of these focus outside the heartland and thus provide data

on technologies that might not be consistent with those practiced in the Cuzco region (fig.

7.1).

Espinoza and Rowe’s reviews

(Rowe 1982: 104) of the pertinent documents (títulos, visitas, informaciones, and

probanzas) indicate that Thupa Inka Yupanki gave them productive lands, issued

clothing, and tasked them with making pottery for the Inka state. However, the

documents also indicate that the pottery was made for the Inka leader and his captains,

which clouds the issue of whether they labored under state or noble sponsorship (or

whether there was no tangible difference). Witnesses also testified that the potters worked

under an administrator overseeing them from one level below the province’s tukrikuq (a

high-order provincial administrator). There is no explicit mention that this pottery was

manufactured in an Inka polychrome style. Nonetheless, organization under an imperial

overseer with products destined for state activities and important individuals fits well

with the Cheqoq evidence and may be applicable to the heartland workshop discussed

here.

4

3 Espinoza and others confuse the types of retainers and laborers in Inka-created enclaves and so it is difficult to make meaningful distinctions between labor types at times. Part of the problem is that the primary archival materials used in these studies are ambiguous as well, due to either ignorance, a disregard for the nuances of Inka economic organization, or the reality of changing contexts under a new Spanish imperial regime (see Urton 1990).

Hayashida’s research at two north coast provincial Inka style pottery production

4 When provincial researchers find Inka polychrome pottery, they refer to it as “provincial Inka,” “Inka-derived,” or “hybrid Inka.” None of these descriptors is uniformly applied across studies and it is often

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sites – La Viña and Tambo Real in the Leche Valley – demonstrated that the same

artisans made local styles and provincial Inka styles in one locus (1995, 1998, 1999).

While creating hybrid Inka and provincial Inka pots, the native north coast potters used

autochthonous technologies such as press molds; Hayashida pointed to this contradiction

as an example of the incongruence between style and technology, emphasizing that

ceramic style could not be used indiscriminately in assessing imperial presence and

administration in a region. At the time, Hayashida and others were not yet certain that

north coast technologies were consistent with Cuzco region technologies, but the

divergent technological evidence at Cheqoq suggests that she was right to caution against

using style as an indicator of the intensity of governance.

Mackey (2003) found that a pottery production facility was established during the

Inka occupation of nearby Farfán (Jequetepeque Valley). Within an elite residence,

potters made large, open vessels for aqha production and dry storage. The vessels were

low-temperature fired (perhaps fired in place) and were quite large (50-cm diameter

orifices on average), remaining in situ as aqha receptacles. Due to the location of

fabrication, Mackey posited that potters made these hybrid Chimú-Inka style vessels

under direct elite supervision. This context shows how Inka state oversight of imperial unclear just how different the pottery is stylistically, morphologically, or technologically from the Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery originally described by Bingham (1915), Pardo (1939), Rowe (1944), and Valcárcel (1934, 1935). At times, “provincial Inka” refers to locally produced imitations of Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery and “hybrid Inka” to styles such as Chimú-Inka in which two stylistic canons are combined in one vessel. Some publications consider one more category and refer to the well-executed polychrome Inka wares as “Provincial Inka” and poorly executed imitation ware as “Local Inka.” Besides these, there are variations on the terminologies used. Hayashida has discussed this issue before (1998).

Many publications lack photos or drawings or descriptions of paste, finish, and manufacture. In this chapter, when I refer to “provincial Inka” styles, without provenance studies or the material remains of production, attribution of “provincial Inka” pottery as imitation wares locally produced may be tenuous at best. Differentiating between the standardized Cuzco-produced style and something that is perceived as sloppier can be a subjective matter. When I cite a study, I am not always certain how much fidelity there is between the core and provincial types, but will explain the differences as possible.

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style pottery production might take different forms in the provinces, in this case as direct

physical oversight in a small-scale setting not staffed as a specialist enclave (e.g.,

mitmaqkuna and yanakuna settlements at sites such as Milliraya, below).

Donnan found a ceramic production center elsewhere in the Jequetepeque Valley

where potters used north coast technologies (especially press molds) to create utilitarian

and decorated narrow-mouth jars, among other local forms (1997). He considered this

pottery to be “Inka-derived,” especially the characteristic narrow-mouth jar, and

emphasized the lack of Cuzco-Inka decorated wares (also known as “provincial Inka” at

times). The narrow-mouth jars were either undecorated or featured Chimú-Inka styles,

according to his analysis. The available photos in the published paper, however, do show

some Cuzco-Inka style painted surfaces of sherds. While there may be fidelity with the

Cuzco-Inka iconography, Donnan did state that the paste types were not uniform and

were largely sand-tempered, which does not fit the Cuzco-Inka pattern. Through surface

survey and shovel tests, Donnan found ash deposits over heat-altered sand, an abundance

of charcoal, wasters, molds, and raw clay that indicated production. Based on paste

diversity and a lack of formal standardization, he asserted that multiple individuals

manufactured the local and hybrid pottery at this un-named site in the Cañoncillo area,

without direct state involvement. However, in the absence of a better understanding of

nearby settlements, it is difficult to contextualize administration of the production locus.

This site seems to have some local elite oversight, but its organization and execution may

be far removed from imperial bureaucracy (as at Farfán and perhaps Milliraya).

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At Milliraya, on the north side of Lake Titicaca, 17th

Sixteenth and 17

-century archival documents

from land litigation described how Wayna Qhapaq re-settled potters and weavers to

create a specialist production enclave that functioned on the state’s behalf (Murra 1978).

Spurling analyzed Milliraya archaeologically (surface survey) to assess the organization

of production and distribution within the political economy (1992). His surface

collections identified a high density of pottery compared to neighboring sites, which

included local Inka polychrome wares in typical Inka forms (Rowe 1944) and hybrid

styles, waster sherds, scraper sherds, and a pigment grinding mortar. Spurling interpreted

the site as a retainer workshop as opposed to a nucleated settlement with household-level

pottery production, due to the percentage of production-associated debris on the surface.

There is clear evidence for production in some form, but the identification as a workshop

needs to be supported by horizontal excavation. Spurling argued that variability in styles

indicated that the Inka state indirectly governed and oversaw pottery production, allowing

for artistic freedom in design choices. Alternatively, the style heterogeneity could be

explained by a lack of direct oversight by the state.

th-century witnesses in the litigation from Milliraya stated that the

artisans had access to both agricultural and pasture lands for their subsistence. Much like

the case for the silversmiths of Picoy who were allegedly settled on the lands of the Mayu

ayllu (Espinoza 1983), local populations and the migrant mitmaqkuna of Milliraya did

not agree on who had rights to the lands (Murra 1978, Spurling 1992). The availability of

archaeological and historical data in tandem make this a more robust example of Inka

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pottery production enclaves, similar to Cheqoq, and provide information on how

specialist populations were provided with usufruct rights to lands for their subsistence.

Further south, at Potrero-Chaquiago, in northwest Argentina, researchers have

also identified evidence for production of provincial Inka style pottery. Lorandi reported

tools for pottery fabrication, a high density of sherds, and raw materials (clay and granitic

temper material) as evidence for a production locus (1984). Even with evidence of local

production, provincial Inka vessels only constitute 30% of the assemblage at Potrero-

Chaquiago, though higher percentages were found at neighboring sites (D’Altroy et al.

1998: 300).

In northern Chile, Alden and his colleagues (2006) identified indirect evidence for

production of provincial Inka pottery through compositional analyses of ceramics and

geological clays. While no production facilities or by-products have yet been identified in

the San Pedro de Atacama or Catarpe/Turi region where this work was conducted, Alden

and colleagues argue that provincial Inka pottery was indeed produced in this area due to

affinities with good local clay sources. However, they were unable to make any

convincing conclusions about production organization due to the lack of excavated or

ethnohistorical evidence.

So far, all the provincial loci of Inka pottery manufacture are interpreted as

entailing local, provincial, and/or hybrid styles. Artisans used some Cuzco-Inka styles,

often combined Inka and local iconographic canons, and adopted few of the Cuzco

fabrication technologies. Thus, archaeologically identified “Cuzco-Inka” polychrome that

includes the typical suite of Cuzco region attributes (paste, finish, formation, etc.) should

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be considered imports into the provincial sites where they are found. These come in small

quantities – in the single digit percentages of whole assemblages, if at all – and have only

been recovered in some provinces. They were likely brought for special use in public and

elite events or as gifts to important local allies. As Hayashida originally reported (1999),

the Inka were not heavily invested in training pottery specialists at the far reaches of

Tawantinsuyu. Rather, the Inka invested in the high-cost transport of a small number of

socio-politically charged objects (see D’Altroy and Earle 1985); this assertion is

supported by the geochemical studies done recently (Bray et al. 2005, D’Altroy and

Bishop 1990) though it deserves further exploration.

Some of the production sites were staffed by locals (e.g., Mantaro), while others

were staffed by migrants from neighboring communities (e.g., Milliraya) or from

communities further out into the provinces. Cheqoq’s workshop may have included a

mixture of local and provincial workers. In the highlands, the evidence indicates that craft

specialists were required to be self-sufficient in terms of their subsistence. Usufruct rights

over land provided them the opportunities to produce their own staple goods.

An imperial style pottery workshop

Our excavations at Cheqoq have produced the clearest evidence for production of

Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery yet identified in the Cuzco region. Production occurred

in a nucleated, but small area located between the domestic sector and the corrals on the

southern end of the settlement. The area is a single, spatially restricted terrace with walls

on three sides. The fourth side was left open during the Inka period. Relegated to the back

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end of the settlement, the workshop in Area U presents superficial and subsurface

evidence for intensified imperial style pottery manufacture. The workshop was identified

in this area by comparison with other known pottery production contexts in the Andes

and elsewhere. It appears to be the only area where such activity occurred at Cheqoq, due

to the unusually high density of decorated Cuzco-Inka pottery and wasters on the Area U

terrace (fig. 7.2).

The material expectations for the workshop are based on ethnographic examples

of pottery production in the Andes (e.g., Arnold 1993, Chávez 1984-85, Hagstrum 1989,

Sillar 1996; more general and global examples from Rice 1987) and known

archaeological examples (e.g., Donnan 1997, Hayashida 1999, Ochatoma 2007, Pozzi-

Escot et al. 1993, Tschauner et al. 1994; see also Stark 1985). Based on these previous

studies, I would not expect to find a formal kiln structure (updraft kilns were later

introduced from Europe), but rather an open pit with evidence of ash, firing furniture,

burnt earth, and burnt clay, surrounded by a stone lining. This firing feature should be

accompanied by firing by-products such as vitrified clay and waster sherds. Evidence

should include raw clay; molds; smoothing, polishing, and burnishing sherds and stones;

potter’s plates (see variations in Chávez 1984-85: 202, Hagstrum 1989: 398-99); and/or

scraping tools made of bone or stone. Clay scraps and unfired coils also should be

present, since Andean pottery was both coil-built and mold-made, with regional

variability.

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Figure 7.2. View of surface scatter over Area U pottery workshop, looking north (toward the open end of the workshop area). This area yielded twenty times more diagnostic Inka sherds than other surface collections and seems to represent the only pottery production area at the site based on surface finds and test excavations.

Direct evidence for painting pottery should be apparent on finished vessels and in

the tools and raw materials associated with the paint manufacture (e.g., crushed or ground

pigment, unworked nodules, and grinding stones or slicks). All of the above material

expectations were met in the Cheqoq workshop, save for the molds. Molds have not been

found in the Cuzco region but are documented for the late prehispanic north coast

(Hayashida 1999, Donnan 1997) and in Middle Horizon Ayacucho (Ochatoma 2007). If

clay preparation did occur at Cheqoq, I would expect to find large stone slabs or block

supports for rocker grinders, as well as lined levigation tanks, neither of which was yet

identified. As described below, clay processing and paste fabrication may not have

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occurred at Cheqoq. Pottery at Cheqoq has a paste similar to imperial wares found in the

Cuzco region, with a yellow to brick-red body with fine micaceous and andesitic

inclusions. Perhaps paste preparation was completed elsewhere and subsequently

distributed to the region’s workshops, including Cheqoq.

Surface collections of 50 m2 of the Area U terrace by CHAP yielded 498

diagnostic sherds with 392 of those decorated in the Inka imperial or Cuzco-Inka style

(79%). There were also 40 waster sherds (overfired or misfired pottery resulting from

production failure) making up 8% of the surface assemblage. Systematic surface

collections of other sectors of the site with 29 units of 50 m2

, conducted by the XPAS

project in 2004 (Covey and Yépez 2004), yielded an average of 30 diagnostic sherds per

unit with a mean of 15 Cuzco-Inka imperial sherds in each. Both figures are notably high

for a site that is neither a state administrative center nor a royal palace (64% of the total

diagnostic assemblage was decorated Cuzco-Inka), especially the densities in Area U.

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Figure 7.3. Test unit (UE 21) excavated in Area U that revealed the southeastern corner of the workshop, just adjacent to the firing area later excavated

In general, Cheqoq’s high percentage of decorated pottery is unusual for a site

inhabited by intermediate elites and laborers. Even in planned provincial administrative

centers, archaeologists find relatively low percentages of decorated imperial style Inka

wares. In the Inka province of Mantaro, the administrative site of Hatun Xauxa had

98.5% provincial Inka style pottery (as a percentage of classifiable decorated types), or

locally produced pottery in the Inka style (D‘Altroy, et al. 1998: 292). That figure may

inflate percentages due to the exclusion of undecorated wares and has not been published

elsewhere for provincial contexts. Other Xauxa towns yielded 15-25% of the assemblage

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in the Inka provincial style, indicating that provincial populations outside administrative

centers had some access to Inka goods, without extensive alteration to their assemblages.

These populations used Inka material for hospitality events, rather than daily household

tasks and may have been denied access to the pottery (idem: 294).

The dominant pattern of low frequencies of imperial wares continues elsewhere.

At Pulapuco, the principal Lucanas capital near Ayacucho, 1% of the assemblage was

classified as provincial Inka (Abraham 2010). At Quebrada Tacahuay, on the south coast,

only a few of the 1400 analyzed survey sherds were classified as Cuzco-Inka

polychromes (Covey 2000, 2009a: 372). For the provincial administrative center of

Huánuco Pampa, researchers found percentages of polychrome Inka pottery in the single-

digit percentages (Morris et al. 2011). As D’Altroy has noted in surveying the literature

on Inka style ceramics in provincial settlements, any significant percentages of imperial

style pottery appear in mortuary, elite residence, and administrative and public contexts

(1994b: 204).

Cheqoq’s domestic occupation yielded percentages as high as or higher than the

provincial administrative sites. However, observing the Cheqoq domestic assemblages on

the whole, these residences do not fit within expectations for “elite households,” which

would otherwise yield more precious metals and exotic goods.5

5 Though there may be groups of higher status structures corresponding to elites and/or administrators in parts of Cheqoq that we did not yet excavate.

Access to Inka style

pottery varied greatly between sites and regions and Cheqoq stands out even among non-

palace heartland investigations (e.g., Kendall 1994) for having great quantities of the

imperial ware where it would not otherwise be expected.

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The test pit excavated in 2009 following surface collections in Area U (UE 21)

revealed good preservation of a dense ashy deposit (fig. 7.3). The ash was mixed with

large quantities of Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery, polishing stones, a potter’s plate (for

vessel forming), vitrified clay, and a raw clay deposit against the eastern workshop wall.

Two stones in the north profile later turned out to be the southern limit of the stone-lined

firing area.

Figure 7.4. End of excavations of UE 28 facing east toward the Yucay valley. The domestic terraces are just beyond the east terrace wall of the workshop. North is to the left.

We subsequently delineated an area of 48 m2 that surface remains and terrace

morphology indicated to be the workshop area. Within that 48 m2 area, we excavated an

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additional 29 m2 (UE 28), sampling the limits and surface area of the terrace and opening

new excavation quadrants according to the incoming results. Excavations indicated that

the partitioned area was indeed the limit of the workshop. With 31 m2

We also sampled a small hill rising three meters above the workshop to

investigate the presence of a kiln, given that kilns should be situated in well-ventilated

locations. However, these test units produced negative results. The semi-restricted terrace

in which we excavated the workshop was probably a better location for firing, as windy

conditions can also negatively affect firing results (Rice 1987: 155-57). Either way, the

location of the workshop in relation to domestic settlement at the site is strategic. Smoke

and heat produced by ceramic firing can be an annoyance (Rice 1987: 156), and

Cheqoq’s workshop is located behind the domestic terraces. The households were

oriented toward the storehouse complex and backed up to the firing area. The workshop

is also adjacent to a large group of corrals that probably contained a supply of camelid

dung for fuel.

of horizontal space

opened, we were able to sample 64.6% of the workshop and examine the major features

within it (fig. 7.4). The typical guidelines for the identification of a production locus in

the Andes are raw materials, manufacturing facilities and tools, and by-products

(Hayashida 1999: 341). Most researchers maintain that at least two out of the three of

these categories must be present to argue for in situ production. Strong evidence for all

three is present at Cheqoq.

The density of ceramic remains and the types recovered from the overall

excavations of Area U is noteworthy, demonstrating that the surface remains were not

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just abnormally high due to some post-occupational event. Comparing the density of

excavated pottery by surface area (see Costin and Hagstrum 1995) demonstrates the

special nature of the proposed workshop area. Area U yielded 1853 sherds per square

meter excavated in the Inka occupation of the terrace. In the site of Cheqoq overall, we

recovered 445 sherds per square meter. When quantifying only “diagnostic” sherds

(decorated or slipped body sherds, and any rim, base, or handle sherd), we found 29

sherds per square meter excavated overall at Cheqoq and 558 sherds per square meter

excavated in the workshop.6

The overall density of Inka occupation diagnostic pottery

was 94 sherds per square meter. The density of diagnostic sherds was 20 times higher in

Area U and five times the weight of all sherds recovered from excavated Inka contexts at

Cheqoq.

Reconstructing the organization and technology of the workshop

The excavated assemblage provides information on the forms of fabricated

pottery and their manufacture, as well as information on the social identity and status of

producers. However, these data should be used with caution as the workshop does not

appear to be the domestic quarters of potters. The structure was built atop a Late

Formative occupation, which was filled in and leveled with gravelly sediments and rock.

The workshop space is sub-divided by an Inka double-faced stone wall with roughly

hewn stones like those used in house foundations. The floor to the north of the wall is

approximately 40 cm below the floor to the south (fig. 7.5). The north side yielded 6 17,316 diagnostic sherds from the Inka occupation of Area U were analyzed. 23,403 diagnostic sherds from the Inka occupation of the site as a whole were analyzed. The overall mass of diagnostic pottery analyzed for the Cheqoq Inka occupation was 340 kg with 254 kg of that from Area U.

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evidence of vessel forming and finishing activities and an ash dump area. On the higher,

southern side of the wall, we found a stone-enclosed firing area just east of another ash

midden and possible drying patio. I will present the workshop evidence in the following

order: raw materials and their processing; the activities of forming, firing, and finishing;

the presence of finished (completely, incompletely, or poorly) products; and non-

production debris, such as consumables. I will discuss the spatial organization of these

remains as well (fig. 7.6).

Figure 7.5. Photo showing the difference in floor height between the north and south sides

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Figure 7.6. Plan view of excavations of workshop in Area U

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Clays and pigments

Researchers have posited that the Inka provided raw materials and prepared paste

to their pottery specialists in an effort to control quality and technology, based on early

Colonial claims by witnesses and provincial pottery studies (e.g., D’Altroy et al. 1994,

D’Altroy and Bishop 1990). The uniformity of paste reported for Cuzco-Inka ceramics

recovered in the heartland and suspected Cuzco-Inka ceramics found outside it point to a

possible central organization of raw material procurement and processing. Specialized

training in paste manufacture also may have been part of this system, although in-depth

regional studies of raw material sources and compositional studies of finished products

are required to investigate this issue.

However, the lack of evidence for paste processing is notable at Cheqoq given the

strong evidence for subsequent stages of production. Levigation tanks or troughs are

lacking, as is a reliable source of water in or near Area U, as far as CHAP has

determined. Clay and paste preparation may not have been feasible near this area of the

site. However, a large clod of prepared clay (7 kg) was recovered next to the east wall of

the workshop in UE 21, which indicates the curation and storage of prepared paste.

Pigment crushing and preparation are inferred in production contexts by the

presence of mortars and pestles, especially in small sizes (fig. 7.7). There were

hammerstones (n=4) of granite, rhyolite, limestone, and andesite, and smaller

netherstones (n=4) and handstones (n=6) of granite, andesite, rhyolite, feldspathic

quartzite, and quartzitic sandstone. We found some of these types made of locally

available rhyolite and andesite (see Carlotto et al. 1996). Additionally, fragments of

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specular iron ore (n=3),7

an exceptionally heavy rock, were found with red pigment on

them, as if they had been utilized for crushing (see Adams [2002: 209-10] for similar

examples from other regions). The tools found here were overall smaller than those seen

in domestic contexts, which are associated with food processing. These pigment

processing-associated lithics were found in the north side of the workshop. Possible red

and white pigment nodules were recovered throughout the workshop, as well as a

concentration of dried self-slip. The distributions of these were not clearly linked to a

specific activity area, however.

Figure 7.7. Examples of small netherstones possibly used for crushing pigment in the workshop

7 It is also possible that pigment was made from the iron ore itself.

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Forming activities

Evidence for forming activities, including coiling, shaping, cutting, and

smoothing were found on the north side of the dividing wall in the workshop. Ceramic

tools were located in this area, such as a potter’s plate (fig. 7.8), expedient scrapers made

from broken pots, and a custom-made template or ring, used in the manufacture of necks

and rims. The so-called potter’s plate has been identified elsewhere (Chávez 1984-85:

202, Hagstrum 1989: 398-99, Ochatoma 2007: 185-89) and may have functioned as a

starter for the base. While the majority of the forming tools were recovered on the north

side, this artifact appeared just south of the firing area.

Figure 7.8. Potter’s plate, possibly used for forming bases

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Informal tools were fashioned from fragments of both polychrome Inka and

utilitarian wares, apparently reused from production waste (n=169) (fig. 7.9). One-third

of these were recovered from the firing area and two-thirds were found in the

forming/finishing area. Body sherds and rim sherds were popular options, being used to

form or smooth pots pre- and post-firing. Edges were facetted along the worked margins

and displayed oblique or parallel angles (see comparable examples in Chávez 1984-85:

204, Ochatoma 2007: 179-81). Several of the waster sherds showed similar use-wear

marks. The custom-made ring was made from the classic Cuzco-Inka paste, and served to

facilitate the production of standard 17-cm diameter necks or rims. This tool was

recovered on the north side of the workshop (fig. 7.10).

Figure 7.9. Examples of re-utilized sherds used to smooth and polish vessels at the leather-hard stage of production

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Figure 7.10. Custom-made ring for forming rims or necks of 17 cm diameter

Although the stone smoothing tools may have been used in forming vessels and

preparing them for firing, they are discussed further below, under the “finishing

activities” heading. Worked bone, also rare in the Inka occupation of Cheqoq, was found

in the workshop in greater quantities than elsewhere. The most likely explanation for this

is that bone was used for scraping and forming vessels in a green state. The worked ribs

and scapulae were from artiodactyls (camelids and cervids) (N=8). At the site of

Chinchawas in the Recuay period (Ancash), Lau found similar bone scraping tools

fashioned from scapulae and ribs, as well as pelvic trowels (2010: 333-34, 340-42) (fig.

7.11). The use of bone scrapers for pottery forming was common in the prehispanic

Andes.

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Figure 7.11. Modified bones utilized as scrapers in forming vessels

Firing activities and by-products

Prior to firing, vessels were possibly dried on a paved patio on the south side of

the wall, just west of the firing area and ash midden. One locus of the workshop was

clearly used for firing. This burned area measures only 4 by 2.5 meters, but it fits well

with firing pits recorded elsewhere in the Andes. Comparable studies describe stones

enclosing a firing area, which served as a low protective wall (e.g., Donnan 1997,

Hayashida 1999: 343, Mackey 2003: 338, Ochatoma 2007: 213-15, Sillar 1996: 261,

Tschauner et al. 1994). These studies find that at times, failed sherds line the area as “kiln

furniture” and delineators. Pots are occasionally found stacked in the middle and topped

with dried dung and straw (Chávez 1984-85). Ash dumps commonly surround the firing

features, and include evidence for in situ burning, such as burnt earth, carbon, and ash

lenses.

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The taphonomic evidence for high temperature burning in the Cheqoq workshop –

red, scorched earth in and around the pit and sooty, fire-affected stones within the pit –

further suggests that Area U was a primary firing context.8

Rocks with burnt clay

adhering to the surfaces were also recovered just outside the pit. Stratigraphically, the

firing pit included a series of compacted, flat ash lenses and multiple dumping or

cleaning events around the periphery. The firing pit itself was made up of a semi-circular

stone-lined area, using the main dividing wall as its limit on the north end and the terrace

wall on the east. Some stones were missing but were located in the modern plow zone of

the terrace. Where stone lining was absent, we defined the limits of the pit through

changes in strata and soil morphology (fig. 7.12).

8 Lunt’s analysis of Cuzco-Inka pottery determined that the temperatures reached in such a firing pit would be suitable for the polychrome wares we find in and around Cuzco and at Cheqoq (1987: 236-39; cited in Hayashida 1999: 344).

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Figure 7.12. Base of the firing feature, showing red burnt earth (Munsell 2.5YR 3/3 dark reddish brown) and ash lenses (Munsell 10YR 7/1 light grey). Two views (toward south and toward east) are shown to demonstrate the continuation of the ash lenses and dumps around the inside and outside of the firing feature.

Wasters, or overfired and misfired sherds, make up a significant portion of the

ceramic assemblage at the workshop and a minor percentage in household contexts (fig.

7.13).9

9 Stark provides an ethnographic overview of waster rates for open-air firing (1985: 174-77). She summarizes the data that indicate that some cases will have close to zero wasters while others may be close to 20% of the fired vessels. More important is the observation that not all overfired or misfired vessels will

Thirty-six out of 1000 diagnostic sherds in the workshop were wasters, while four

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out of 1000 diagnostic sherds in the domestic contexts at the site were wasters. The

presence of high percentages of wasters in Area U in tandem with other materials

confirms it was an area of pottery manufacture, while the low ratios in domestic areas

without other production evidence may be attributed to the re-use of failed vessels in the

home. Ethnoarchaeological studies of ceramic re-use indicate that broken pottery is often

reused in the domestic sphere. Wasters, though not attractive or suitable for ceremonial or

public events, could still serve as containers and lids in the household (Deal and

Hagstrum 1995). They are also sometimes seen as kiln furniture in firing areas, along

with broken sherds (Stark 1985: 165).

Figure 7.13. Examples of wasters from rim and body sherds of Cuzco-Inka vessels

be visible to the eye and visible damage will not be done to the entire body of a misfired vessel. The wasters cited here are “obvious wasters” that include visible signs of bloating, slumping, crazing, and fusion with other vessels. Based on Stark’s observations, it would be rational to suggest that the fail rate was higher than we can visibly discern based on wasters alone. In addition to wasters, there were also sherds with lumps of slag on the surface and a quantity of sherds with a white slip that had turned gray in comparison to Cuzco-Inka vessels elsewhere at the site, but these were not grouped into the waster category either.

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Figure 7.14. Compacted ashy lens within the firing feature (shown in dashed circle)

Figure 7.15. Detail of sooty stone surrounded by burnt earth in the firing area

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Different types of by-products of production – raw clay, fired clay, burnt clay, and

vitrified clay – were dispersed in concentrations throughout the workshop (figs. 7.14,

7.15, 7.16). They were especially dense around the firing feature, in the possible midden

west of it, and in a possible second firing area/ash dump on the north side of the dividing

wall. The mass of the very lightweight vitrified clay (recovered with ¼” screen from 31

m2

As mentioned above, archaeological and ethnographic studies indicate this type of

firing set-up was fueled by dried dung and straw. One ethnographic example of pottery

manufacture near Cuzco is at Raqch’i, southeast of Cuzco. In that study, Chávez found

that potters placed 30 cm of dried dung in the firing area, placed the vessels, and topped

them with grasses and straws (1984-85). Chávez also noted that in the absence of dung,

wood was a suitable fuel, but that it was not the first option due to its relative scarcity.

of horizontal excavations) was 13.65 kilograms. Notably, within the firing pit, we also

recovered a nodule of pinched and fired clay with human fingerprints. Other by-products

of ceramic production included discarded fragments of prepared clay formed into small

coils (both raw and fired). Remnants of hardened ash were also discovered in and around

the firing pit at the base. Much of the pottery recovered in the area was burned, ash-

coated or sooty. Though this was not recorded systematically during pottery analysis, we

observed that the majority of the white paint on sherds from Area U was not fully

oxidized, which resulted in a smoky gray appearance. These sherds may be firing failures

that were left on the workshop floor as rubbish.

The organic remains of fuel showed up in and around the firing pit and in the

northern and southern midden areas held within the workshop (table 7.1). We did not

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identify dung at the site, but it was likely abundant in the corrals behind Area U. The

carbonized macrobotanical and anthracological (wood carbon) remains recovered through

screening and flotation are consistent with the contents of dung and yield samples of

straw, grasses and woods used to fire pottery. The lack of hardy tree woods identified in

the firing area is notable even though Aliso forests and other tree stands were part of the

associated Yucay estate (Niles 1999: 148, Villanueva 1970a: 52-53). It thus seems that

tree woods may not have been used in igniting and sustaining firing events in the Inka

period. The large number of coca (Erythroxylum coca) seeds found in and adjacent to the

firing area could have been used in ceremonial firings (Bertone 2010, 2011).10 Many of

the botanical remains may be related to straws, grasses, and other fuel used to fire the

pottery in conjunction with the dung.11

Some of the botanical remains, however, may be better explained as the remains

of human food consumption. There are no signs of food preparation in Area U, but the

specialists laboring there may have eaten on the job occasionally, tossing or losing some

scraps into the post-firing embers and middens. The bones of guinea pigs and camelids

were scattered throughout the workshop, along with unidentified large mammal bones.

Some rodent remains (not Cavia) were concentrated in the corner of the

forming/finishing area, perhaps as a result of concentrated organic waste. These finds

10 Llamas keep food in their digestive systems for up to 62.3 hours (Bonavia 2008: 20), so it is conceivable that a llama may have consumed coca plant fodder on its way up to Cheqoq from nearby coca fields (see Covey 2006b: 227) while transporting the goods, after which its dung became fuel in the workshop. Llamas are non-selective feeders, eating anything and everything (Bonavia 2008: 407). 11 Llama dung is a favorable fuel for firing pottery because it is slow burning and has a high caloric value (Bonavia 2008: 413).

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suggest a situation in which some food was consumed and discarded while working;

however the faunal remains are rare compared to excavated domestic contexts.

Table 7.1. Raw counts of carbonized macrobotanical and wood remains identified from Area U and their possible uses

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Figure 7.16. Details related to the firing feature

Finishing activities

After firing, potters finished the vessels – polished and burnished – on the north

side of the workshop, where they had been previously formed. The evidence for this stage

of the process is primarily found in the lithic tools excavated from the floor level. The

tool assemblage includes 28 artifacts of andesite, quartz, quartzite, quartzitic sandstone,

basalt, rhyolite, and diorite (fig. 7.17). Some tools were made from opportunistically used

river rock, while others were clearly formed to facilitate detailed fine-tuning of the vessel

surface (see the small milky quartz polisher). The polishing stones weighed between 1.2

g and 90.6 g, representing a wide variety of sizes and shapes (see similar examples in

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Chávez 1984-85, Ochatoma 2007: 191). Some of these objects may have also been used

in the pre-firing stages of production.

These lithic tools were differentiated from pestles by size, with the assumption

that smaller stones with high levels of wear would be more useful on the concave and

convex interior and exterior surfaces of vessels, likely utilized during the leather-hard

stage in which vessels are still partially wet. Some polishers were so worn that they

showed pitting on some surfaces (fig. 7.18). They ranged from rounded to flat and

rounded, indicating specialized uses for interior or exterior vessel contours and corners.

Only three of 28 of the polishing stones were recovered in the south end, or drying and

firing area, of the workshop. The majority were excavated in the forming and finishing

area in the north. Very little chipped stone was recovered in the workshop (ten flakes and

two multidirectional cores), further supporting the specialized function of this space for

pottery manufacture.

Figure 7.17. Examples of polishing stones

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Figure 7.18. Example of high level of pitting on the end of a smoothing stone

Finished products found in situ

The in situ finished products reveal details on the ceramic production sequence

and help us to understand how space was used. All the elements required to reconstruct a

primary production context are present: raw materials in the form of pigments and clays;

manufacturing tools and facilities manifest through a firing area and stone, bone, and

informal ceramic tools; and by-products taking the shape of vitrified and burned clay

concentrations, clay coil castoffs, and abundant waster sherds. The quantity and mass of

pottery recovered in Area U relative to the small space constituting the workshop

indicates that ceramic output was sizeable albeit maintained by only a few potters. The

space of the workshop would accommodate no more than perhaps three individuals

during firing along with a handful of others within the semi-restricted terrace. Due to the

need to produce for their own subsistence and the restrictions of the rainy season (being

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thus unable to dry vessels or build fires), the potters of Cheqoq must have been part-time

specialists in the craft (see Arnold 1993: 220-21).12

Much of the workshop assemblage is composed of classic Cuzco- Inka pottery –

neatly standardized, highly fired wares with mostly red, black, and white/cream paints

and slips (Rowe 1944). They are typically composed of a standard set of forms as well

(ibid.). Though paste compositions vary within the heartland, there is a basic recipe for

the Cuzco-Inka type that is replicated for imperial polychrome wares; the paste has a

clean plastic body with nonplastic inclusions that are mostly mica, basalt-andesite, and

granitic (D’Altroy and Bishop 1990, Ixer and Lunt 1991). The same was found at

Cheqoq. Ixer and Lunt believe this paste was fabricated through cleaning, sieving and

levigation of alluvial clays, to which hand-crushed basalt-andesite was added (1991).

Ware types

13

The workshop has the highest percentage of Inka imperial style pottery at the site,

indicating that not all the products were destined for use at Cheqoq. Instead, the greater

Andesite is locally available in the Cuzco Basin but is also found near Maras as part of

the Rumicolca geological formation (Carlotto et al. 1996).

12 A table compiled by Arnold (1993: 220-21 [table 9.2]) demonstrates that modern highland communities fabricate pottery almost exclusively in the dry season. The available number of dry months will fluctuate from year to year. This production schedule would not interfere with most agricultural scheduling, allowing for potters to also engage in subsistence production, as discussed in Chapter 6. As Arnold notes, coastal potters would not necessarily be limited to production only during certain seasons, due to a lack of rain and an agricultural schedule that may be more flexible due to irrigation regimes (1993: 225-26). 13 Two paste types were classified for 95% of the imperial Inka style sherds, indicating a high level of uniformity. Those two paste types – types 51 and 52 – are actually two ends of a spectrum; the paste body and nonplastic inclusions are essentially the same but one type has slightly larger granitic inclusions than the other. These two ends on the continuum of one paste type closely match other published descriptions of classic Inka pastes . See paste descriptions in Appendix B.

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quantity of imperial style wares was probably produced for use in noble contexts, such as

Wayna Qhapaq’s palace complex in Urubamba (the Quispiwanka) or the urban palace of

Casana in Cuzco (Bauer 2004: 117-121). While the workshop is composed of 99.7% Inka

and 0.3% Inka-related pottery (when only considering those two categories), the domestic

contexts at Cheqoq consist of 82% Inka and 18% Inka-related ceramics (fig. 7.19). The

difference in style distribution, coupled with the difference in form discussed below, may

indicate that Cheqoq residents were not the only recipients of the workshop’s pottery.

Figure 7.19. Stacked bar chart showing the differences in ratios of Cuzco-Inka to Inka-related pottery in domestic and workshop contexts

Another notable pattern in the workshop was the ratio of decorated to utilitarian

wares. In the workshop, this ratio was 8:1, whereas the domestic contexts produced a

ratio of 4:1. Counting only rim sherds, the ratio in the workshop was 3:1 and, in the

domestic sector, it was 2:1. The utilitarian pottery found in the workshop also differed

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greatly from that found in the domestic sectors, particularly considering paste. Utilitarian

pottery did appear to have been made at the workshop due to the presence of wasters, but

the pastes were limited to two main varieties and a smattering of ten other types (see

Appendix B). The domestic sector contained a wider diversity -- over fifteen paste types -

- dispersed throughout the assemblage. Few of these matched the workshop samples.

According to LeVine (1987), the same potters who were mobilized to make Inka style

pottery in the provinces were also the producers of utilitarian wares that were destined for

functional uses within the community (cf. Costin and Hagstrum 1995; see discussion

above to the contrary). However, the intended destination of the workshop ceramics still

remains to be studied more comprehensively and regionally.

The ware type comparisons above may be used to verify the purpose of the

workshop and evaluate pottery distributions and issues of attached or controlled

sponsorship. At Cheqoq at least, technological style seems to conform to the expectations

of an elite consumer population. Vessel forms add a functional dimension to the analysis,

indicating the differences in production and consumption of vessel forms at the site. The

most common Cuzco-Inka vessel form in the workshop is the narrow-mouth jar,

constituting 68% (n=702) of the workshop assemblage (table 7.2) and coming in a variety

of sizes up to greater than 54 cm in rim diameter. In domestic contexts, narrow-mouth

jars represent only 40% (n=176). As Morris and others have shown, this jar form is

commonly associated with dry storage, but also with the secondary fermentation, storage,

Vessel forms

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and serving of aqha (Hastorf and Johannessen 1993, Morris 1979, Morris et al. 2011,

Morris and Thompson 1985).

At Cheqoq, there are several possible interpretations for the predominance of

narrow-mouth jars in the general assemblage and the higher proportions of these vessels

in the workshop by comparison to household contexts. No narrow-mouth jars were

recovered in the CHAP excavation of the storehouse (Area F), so the workshop jars were

not necessarily destined for the storage complex at the site (cf. Morris and Thompson

1985).

Table 7.2. Rim fragment counts by broad functional vessel categories for each context type at Cheqoq (using only CHAP results and Cuzco-Inka style vessels, both decorated and undecorated [Cuzco Buff])

When considering the storehouse excavations completed by Peru’s National

Institute of Culture (INC), which reconstructed nineteen structures at Cheqoq, there is

slightly more evidence for narrow-mouth jar usage in storage contexts. In a report on the

2004 findings, Guevara recorded the classification of 51 vessels, with 8 of those

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classified as narrow-mouth jars. Yet, a 16% share in the excavated storehouses cannot

account for the relatively greater quantity produced in the workshop.

Combining the vessel forms from CHAP excavations with those available from

the INC project, we find surprising results in vessel type frequencies for imperial Cuzco-

Inka wares (table 7.3). Jar frequencies were significantly higher than other forms in the

workshop, indicating they did not appear where expected, in storage. The frequencies of

pot forms were significantly higher in domestic contexts. This is notable because the pots

were not utilitarian cooking wares but rather were Cuzco-Inka vessels. Inka domestic

areas were consuming a large share of the decorated pots made at Cheqoq. Frequencies of

plates/bowls and cups were significantly higher in storage and domestic units. They may

appear high in the storage area because the imperial style vessel type most often used in

storage was in offering and ritual contexts rather than for the primary purpose of

storage.14

Thus, it seems that the vessels created at Cheqoq – especially the large number

of Cuzco-Inka ware jar forms -- were distributed beyond the scope of the settlement,

perhaps for use by the nobility in the Urubamba valley. The best way to improve our

current understanding of this issue is through continued regional and site-specific studies

that approach the matter of storage quantitatively. We must not forget, however, that

ethnoarchaeological studies have repeatedly shown that vessels have multiple uses (Rice

1987: 304).

14 Guevara’s report appears to not include vessel morphology classification for utilitarian vessels, which would be expected to yield more jar types. Instead, the analysis focused on decorated wares that were found in special contexts in the corners of some storage structures at Cheqoq.

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Table 7.3. Contingency table analysis for vessel form categories for Cuzco-Inka style vessels only (including 2004 INC excavations [Guevara 2004] of Cheqoq storehouses). Values are raw frequency counts for vessel types and Freeman-Tukey deviates follow in parentheses (significance at the p = 0.05 level). Χ2 = 159.359, df = 6, p = 0.000.

The implications of a retainer workshop at Cheqoq

Based on the finished product assemblage, the Cheqoq workshop yielded a

formally and stylistically standardized product that matches the imperial wares found

elsewhere in Tawantinsuyu. Coupled with the subsurface architectural and artifactual

remains in Area U, these results provide a picture of Inka ceramic production in the

imperial heartland for the first time. With more problem-oriented horizontal excavations

at heartland sites, we hope to find comparative contexts for an empirical study of Cuzco-

Inka ceramic technology and production, including the sociopolitical and economic

organization of ceramic manufacture and distribution

Craft production at Cheqoq contributes to a broader understanding of the

articulation of the estate with the heartland political economy. Cheqoq demonstrates how

the Inka nobility retained control over resources and craft production in the heartland,

garnering more political power for their factions in turn. Style communicates a range of

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ideas and demonstrates sociopolitical relationships (Conkey and Hastorf 1993) and the

imperial style pottery was an important political tool for the estate. However, as we see at

Cheqoq, access to imperial style pottery was not the exclusive domain of the elite and the

nobility in all cases.

Greater oversight is often associated with greater political control where

production is concerned (see Brumfiel and Earle 1987, Sinopoli 1988). Spurling’s work

at Milliraya investigated whether Inka style pottery production was directly administered

by the state through instances of hybridity in Inka pottery that it either “allowed” or

“encouraged.” However, as the Yucay estate case shows here, the Inka organized craft

production with many degrees of oversight. While we still do not fully understand the

degree of direct administration by the nobility over pottery production at Cheqoq, the

excavated remains do indicate that overall distribution was under elite supervision.

Households at Cheqoq may have been permitted to bring failed products home, but the

finished pieces were largely exported. Most of Cheqoq’s goods ended up in elite

contexts, such as the royal residences in the neighboring Yucay Valley or in the city of

Cuzco,15

The assessment of indirect supervision by nobles over pottery production is based

on several lines of inference. In some of the cases discussed above, direct supervision

indicating that production was supervised in some indirect manner to ensure

adherence to imperial style and technology and to guarantee that nobles were the ultimate

consumers of the goods. While we need to compare excavated assemblages from palace

contexts to confirm this, CHAP at least demonstrated that Cheqoq residents were not the

primary consumers.

15 Provenance studies of pottery are needed to confirm where Cheqoq’s goods were distributed.

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was inferred from attachment of work spaces to elite residences or administrative

structures. At Cheqoq, there was no spatial attachment to overseers, but the organization

of production and distribution seem to have been controlled from an entity of higher

power, such as the nobility to whom retainers at Cheqoq were attached. Both style and

technology were standardized and uniform, with a restricted space used for production.

Finally, the ethnohistorical linkage of Cheqoq to Wayna Qhapaq’s panaqa and our

understanding of production enclaves under royal administration also support the idea

that specialists labored in a workshop on behalf of persons or a group with more political,

social, and economic power.

The workshop at Cheqoq was probably overseen by proxies of the nobility living

at the site, who ensured that the pottery was made in the proper style, with the correct

materials and technologies, and was subsequently distributed to the patrons of the work in

Cuzco or at nearby palaces. Researchers have typically assumed that Cuzco was the

center of attached specialist pottery production for the elite (Covey 2009a: 252). Now,

with evidence for one rural heartland workshop, we know that production was not

exclusively concentrated in the urban center, although some form of inspection or

periodic training served to regulate the quality of ceramic products and distribution was

managed from the top-down.

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Chapter 8

DOMESTIC FOOD ECONOMY AT CHEQOQ

While Chapters 6 and 7 addressed production of subsistence and craft goods that

occurred outside the household, this and the following chapter discuss the results from

household excavations related to consumption and intramural (within the household)

production of staple and wealth goods. Chapter 6 demonstrated how Cheqoq organized

subsistence production by household. Evidence for herding, hunting, and elite-

administered storage complement the data presented here from the remains of food

processing and consumption. Here, I address food processing, cooking, presentation, and

eating using faunal, macrobotanical, lithic, and ceramic remains. Comparing food

production with food consumption by household provides insight into relative status,

identity, and labor organization among Cheqoq households.

If there are both administrator and laborer (including yana) households at Cheqoq,

there should be variability in consumption patterns. Administrators and elites should have

access to more exotic foods and process less of their own food (unless subordinates came

into their domestic space to process it for them). Non-administrators, laborers, and lower-

status households should consume more local foods. The CHAP sample size of six

households may not cover

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all the variation among households, but this project does provide a systematically

collected archaeological sample analyzed in congruence with a suite of other data.

The practices of diet and cuisine,1

Household food assemblages may reveal patterns outside the expected even

consumption of staple goods across laborer households and richer assemblages among

possible administrator households. Archaeologically, there are limitations in separating

goods gifted from the nobility down to the Cheqoq retainers versus goods procured via

informal means by the retainers themselves. Another challenge is in distinguishing the

especially when contextualized with production

and distribution, are important for assessing identity and status. Food prepared and

consumed at the household level defines social relationships between households and

individuals (see Atalay and Hastorf 2006). Status and identity can be explored, though

not defined, in an analysis of foodways and daily eating, which are also influenced by

labor divisions, economics, and even age, gender, and religion (Curet and Pestle 2010,

Dietler 2007, Welch and Scarry 1995). The multiple social, political, and economic

influences on diet and cuisine make defining status and identity difficult without multiple

lines of evidence; however, what the data can tell us is whether there was indeed

inequality among households of laborers and administrators on the royal estate and if we

can differentiate them. The character of those inequalities contributes to understanding

the underlying social, economic, and political processes. Moreover, the identification of

administrator households versus laborer households would reveal the estate’s labor

organization.

1 Cuisine is defined as the set of choices made in preparing, serving, and consuming food. These choices may be influenced by social, economic, or political concerns. Joyce and Henderson simply define cuisine as the “social relations related to food” and “regimes of taste and preparation” (2007: 642).

238

many dimensions of identity and status. Some archaeological studies are able to

differentiate sex, class, age, status, or other dimensions – etic and emic -- in assessing

diet, but such studies are rare due to the limitations and biases of the archaeological

record (Schmitt and Lupo 2008, Schmitt and Zeier 1993). The use of multiple lines of

evidence in conjunction with an assessment of diet and cuisine is essential to explaining

social phenomena in a robust manner (see Turkon 2004). However, to assess a population

like Cheqoq’s, where we find ethnohistoric evidence for multiple labor and ethnic

statuses, one must proceed with caution. I propose that there are recognizable differences

in the household assemblages, but that we cannot yet determine the precise processes

contributing to those differences. This chapter will highlight the differences and offer

possible explanations for the differences in household assemblages relative to the

production data presented in Chapter 6.

Studies of diet within American plantations and slave quarters may provide fresh

insight for the study of diet and cuisine among subordinate households at Cheqoq (e.g.,

Crader 1990; Mrozowski et al. 2008; Reitz et al. 1985; Singleton 1995; Tuma 2006).

Although it is an exceptional case in slave domestic economies, at Thomas Jefferson’s

Monticello, Crader found that slave quarters yielded both high- and low-quality faunal

assemblages, suggesting status differentiation between slave households (1990). The data

from households at Cheqoq indicate a similar phenomenon of internal retainer status

differentiation, perhaps reflecting differences in labor specialization (e.g., potter versus

herder) or differences in office or title (e.g., administrator versus laborer).

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In slave households at Rich Neck Plantation (17th-century Virginia), Mrozowski

and colleagues (2008) found evidence that slave families adopted local cuisine and

consumed the same high-quality foods as planters. This unexpected similarity in food

assemblages was interpreted as illicit acquisition of restricted goods (Mrozowski et al.

2008, Singleton 1995: 127-128) or production and acquisition outside the confines of the

patron-directed subsistence economy (Reitz et al. 1985). These studies demonstrate how

there may be several ways to explain high-quality foods in non-elite or non-administrator

contexts. As diet and cuisine are evaluated at Cheqoq in context with many lines of

evidence, we will try to avoid the pitfall of assuming status and identity were directly

concomitant with food and cuisine.

Models of Inka subsistence consumption

Due to the lack of archaeological data available on Inka subsistence consumption

at the site level (see deFrance 2009b), much information derives from ethnohistorical

models. Spanish chroniclers, particularly Cobo (1990[1653]), have been drawn upon as

authorities on the matter (e.g., Bray 2003; Cutright 2010; Murra 1960).2

2 Cobo’s descriptions were crafted a century after Spanish contact and must be applied to the archaeological record with caution. Most studies citing Cobo have just accepted his observations of 17th-century practices as if they were Inka and pre-Columbian in general.

Early colonial

sources referred to the consumption of domesticated flora and fauna native to the region,

especially tubers, maize, beans, quinoa, native fruits, camelid, guinea pig (cuy), and

condiments such as ají pepper and molle. The chronicles were not consistent enough to

reconstruct the ideal meal of a heartland household (Cobo 1990[1653], Garcilaso de la

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Vega 1966[1609], Guaman Poma de Ayala 2001[1615-16], Murúa 1986[ca. 1590]).3

The trend of increasing maize consumption is seen through excavated remains

and stable isotope studies, but also in many settlement surveys. Settlement shifts toward

maize-producing zones is often seen as a shift in agricultural focus. Increasing

consumption of maize sometimes meant increasing production and distribution of aqha

as well.

However, archaeologists increasingly use direct faunal and macrobotanical analyses, as

well as proxy studies through stable isotope analyses. Many of the published studies deal

with variability at the site level, comparing the pre-Inka to the Inka period, but do not

deal with household-level analysis. Some patterns emerge from the available data: maize

consumption increased overall or was evened out across etic status designations in the

Inka period (Hastorf 1991). Access to meat became more equal among various statuses

(Sandefur 2001). Some studies have found homogenization of meat sources in the Inka

period diet (e.g., Turner et al. 2010) or the diversification of meat sources (e.g., Capriles

et al. 2010, Knudson et al. 2012).

4

3 Bray (2003) and Hastorf (2003) provide a thorough review of the ethnohistory of Inka daily diet and feasts. The latter would have included a greater variety of meats in particular, as well as special preparations of quotidian items, such as toasted corn or roasted (rather than stewed) meat (see Sandefur 2001).

Settlement pattern changes in the highlands demonstrate increased reliance on

maize as a staple crop, with communities moving closer to maize-producing ecozones

and improved fields upon Inka incorporation, along with evidence of increased

consumption in the archaeological record (Bauer and Covey 2004; Covey 2006b; Hastorf

1990, 1993, 2001; Schreiber 1987).

4 Aqha is associated with both state-sponsored and elite-associated public and ritual events, especially (Morris 1979).

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Archaeobotanical analyses may confirm these regional patterns at the individual,

household, and site level, with some caveats. For example, Hastorf (1990; see also

Dennell 1976) argued that macrobotanical remains recovered from domestic contexts did

not necessarily reflect eating remains. Instead, she interpreted macrobotanical remains

recovered inside domestic structures as evidence of processing. Sikkink’s

ethnoarchaeological study of charred crop deposition in house floors in the Upper

Mantaro region found that bulk flotation sampling could recover cooking remains around

the immediate hearth area (2001). Hastorf (1990: 282; Lennstrom and Hastorf 1992a:

293) and Sikkink used these results to argue that charred macrobotanical remains outside

the immediate hearth area were not appropriate for assessing consumption, since they

would not be directly linked to cooking. Here, I interpret charred botanical remains

within domestic spaces, whether interior or exterior, hearth or not, as linked to both

processing and consumption.5

Hastorf’s UMARP studies found overall equalization of diet between elite and

commoner households under the Inka compared to the LIP (1990), albeit using etic

designations determined by architectural remains (Earle et al. 1987). She and her

colleagues found higher status crops correlated with elite patio groups in the LIP Wanka

II (coca) and Wanka III (maize, coca, and chili pepper) (1987: 83-4). Under the Inka,

however, they found that access to maize between elite and commoner patio groups was

In the absence of stable isotope data or residue studies on

cooking vessels, I interpret macrobotanical and faunal remains in the domestic sphere to

represent consumption and processing, along with lithic and ceramic artifacts.

5 I did not find an acceptable way to separate the “immediate hearth area” from the rest of the domestic space, since few structures at Cheqoq were excavated in their entirety.

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leveled off. Sandefur found similar patterns for meat consumption, with commoner

households gaining access to the same quality of meat sources under the Inka (2001).

Upon testing stable isotope ratios from bone collagen, however, Hastorf found that men

consumed more maize than women and all Wankas consumed more maize than prior to

Inka conquest (Costin and Earle 1989; Hastorf 1990, 2001). Maize ratios rose and ratios

from foods such as quinoa and tubers declined overall. Thus, there were differences

detected between sexes but also between etic status distinctions.

Isotope studies on human remains from Machu Picchu yielded similar results for

diachronic changes in consumption patterns. Several studies have considered the

Bingham skeletal assemblage from Machu Picchu to belong to yana and aqlla individuals

(Burger et al. 2003, Turner et al. 2009, Verano 2003). Burger and colleagues’ study

determined that maize was the main staple in the retainers’ diet through their isotopic

analyses (2003). They did not find differences in maize consumption between men and

women as Hastorf had determined from the UMARP sample (1991).

Turner and her colleagues found greater diversity in dietary protein consumed

early in life, when they hypothesize that some retainers were in their home provinces and

prior to forced migration to Machu Picchu (2009, 2010).6

6 Not all retainers on royal estates were non-local (e.g., Covey and Elson 2007). However, Turner and colleagues’ study of diet took samples from 71 individuals, making it probable that at least some of them originated outside the Urubamba Valley.

These results complement

those found by Burger and his colleagues in their study of consumption patterns in

adulthood (2003). Earlier in life, dietary protein sources were more diverse and varied,

perhaps indicating more standardized access to protein sources among the retainer

population. They found that the rest of the diet became more homogeneous later in life

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and that 15N-enriched foods such as kiwicha (amaranth), fish, and meat became less

abundant in the diet. Maize rose in importance (Turner et al. 2010).

Capriles and colleagues found faunal evidence for more diverse sources of meat

in the Inka period diet at Yoroma in Bolivia, as opposed to the pre-Inka period (2010).

Meanwhile, Kosiba’s excavations at Wat’a near Cuzco did not find significant

differences in faunal species from the LIP to the Inka, though he did see a statistically

significant increase in the percentage of charred bones (approximately 2500 out of 7000

bones were burnt from his Inka period assemblage). Kosiba posited that the charred bone

increase was due to increased feasting events (2010). The small sample size for the Inka

empire must be increased to assess larger processes for food consumption. However,

there is evidence for generally increased access to maize and domesticated meat in

provincial communities under Inka rule and among re-settled Inka laborers near Cuzco.

Whether these changes might be due to changes in settlement patterns, labor

organization, social homogenization, or otherwise cannot be determined yet.

The studies above and the interpretation of Cheqoq’s food remains depend on an

ethnohistorically informed and archaeologically observed definition of what constitutes

high status or “luxury foods.” These definitions were not universal and would have

depended on local ecology, sociopolitical relationships, and pre-Inka foodways. Using

cross-cultural expectations for high-status foods, they are defined as those goods that

require a high labor investment, are not found locally, or are seasonal (see Curet and

Pestle 2010, Hastorf 2003; cf. Ervynck et al 2003). Hunted foods such as fowl, deer, and

non-domesticated rodents (namely Chinchillidae) would have been more difficult to

244

acquire. Coca leaf, with its limited distribution, was difficult to procure as well. Coca

fields in the greater Cuzco region were named to particular noble individuals in the early

colonial and Inka periods and may have been restricted in use. Non-economic

considerations such as taste and symbolism (Curet and Pestle 2010) are also important.

Re-settled laborer populations at state farms and royal estates had access to fields

(and perhaps herds) for their subsistence use. However, certain resources were not

available to those populations, according to early Colonial references. In other words,

these were the resources on which permanent colonists worked but did not consume.

More valuable goods were allegedly more directly controlled by Inka nobles, although

colonial accounts may reflect attempts to manipulate land tenure in the period rather than

the Inka reality. The Abancay mitmaqkuna, for example, could receive special

concessions to use the coca (Erythroxylum coca) they grew for the state (Espinoza 1973:

240). On the other hand, the sacapa seeds harvested there were not available to the

retainers and were instead restricted to use by the Cuzco nobility, who tied them to their

legs as rattles during special occasions.7

For those living at Cheqoq, on the Maras Plain, we can expect to see

archaeological evidence for consumption of domesticated camelids, crops that do not

require extensive irrigation (thus, little maize), and perhaps the addition of plant and

animal resources from via hunting or illicit acquisition. Goods found outside these

While not a foodstuff, sacapa provides an

example of the separation of laborers’ domestic economies from state and estate

economies under the Inka.

7 The taxonomic identification of this plant is uncertain. One witness in the Abancay document said this: “sacapa, which are large trees that give a certain fruit called sacapa, with which the Indians dance, which are a manner of rattle with which the Inkas rejoiced” (Espinoza1973: 285; translation mine).

245

expectations are interpreted as evidence of status, identity, or extra procurement efforts,

in conjunction with a suite of other data.

Archaeological evidence for diet and cuisine in Cheqoq households

Data from macrobotanical and osteological faunal analyses, as well as lithic,

ceramic, and feature analyses are presented here to explore the nature of food and drink

processing and consumption by household at Cheqoq. Based on the baseline subsistence

production data, Cheqoq households should have access to camelid meat and locally

grown staples such as quinoa, beans, and a modest amount of maize. There may be high-

status foods such as coca or condiments reflecting status and labor hierarchy differences

between households. Evidence for processing and consumption of aqha is less certain, as

there are no published expectations for how retainer populations produced and served the

socially and politically important beverage. There may be more evidence for serving

vessels in higher status households and more food processing tools and vessels in lower

status contexts, though such a distinction must be confirmed using multiple lines of

evidence (see Coleman 2008).

Macrobotanical remains

Macrobotanical remains were recovered through point-plotted bulk sediment

samples (Popper and Hastorf 1988), as well as collection by hand. Each stratum from

each excavation unit was sampled in at least one sub-unit. Both the floated and hand

recovered carbonized organic remains were identified after the excavation season by

246

researchers at LIAP (Bertone 2010, 2011).8

Of the 261 bulk sediment samples collected (230 were analyzed at LIAP), 87 are

discussed here, as well as some hand-recovered botanical remains from the same

excavated contexts. I do not present data from all excavated Inka contexts, but rather

from the six horizontally excavated domestic areas (G, H, M, N, Q, and R). Furthermore,

I do not include taxa that were identified as “unidentified seed,” “unidentified stem,” etc.

Of the flotation samples discussed here, LIAP identified 613 whole and fragmented

seeds, stems, and fruits. Excluding undetermined samples (those that could not be

identified to at least the family level), there were 493 identified samples. Fifteen taxa

were identified from bulk sediment samples, though some overlap due to varying degrees

Bertone and colleagues recorded structure

(seed, stem, etc.), quantity, degree of preservation (fragmented or whole), and taxon to

the most specific level possible. Modern plant remains were catalogued but were not

included here; rather, only carbonized remains were considered to be archaeological.

Working in the humid highlands presents some limitations to the recovery of

macrobotanical remains, as the highland environment does not preserve non-carbonized

or carbonized organics as well as the arid western South American coast (e.g., Cutright

2010). Furthermore, As Hastorf has noted (2001: 162), quinoa preserves better than some

other crop remains due to its smaller size and hardier structure. Tuberous materials are

more likely to be trampled and break into less identifiable fragments. Furthermore, there

are biases in the quantitative methods used on data that are derived from imperfect

depositional histories (see Pearsall 2000, Popper 1988).

8 Botanical remains, like all other artifact assemblages from our excavations, were also analyzed for other periods of occupation at Cheqoq and are available for future study.

247

of identifiability (e.g., there is a category for “Cheno/Am” [includes the subfamilies

Chenopodioideae and Amaranthoideae] but also “Chenopodium quinoa”) (table 8.1). The

taxa of most interest to the discussion at hand are coca, quinoa, kiwicha, maize, potato,

and legumes (Fabaceae), as they are most likely foods. These are considered “important

taxa” in some tables below. Analysis of these remains includes measures of frequency

(raw counts and percentages) (table 8.2, 8.3), ubiquity (percentage presence) (table 8.3,

fig. 8.1), and density (per square meter excavated) (table 8.5, fig. 8.2) based on NISP of

fragmented and whole samples. These measures will inform on overall processing and

consumption of botanical goods, as well as intrasite differences in processing and

consumption.

248

Table 8.1. All taxa identified in flotation (bulk sediment) samples

249

Tab

le 8

.2. R

aw c

ount

s (fr

agm

enta

ry a

nd w

hole

) of a

ll ca

rbon

ized

bot

anic

al re

mai

ns id

entif

ied

from

flot

atio

n sa

mpl

es o

f ho

rizon

tally

exc

avat

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omes

tic a

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250

Table 8.3. Absolute counts of important food remains from bulk sediment samples identified in horizontally excavated domestic areas

Table 8.3 shows that quinoa and amaranth were found in all households, while

other taxa ere less evenly distributed. Amaranthaceae, tubers (maybe Solanum) and

legumes (maybe Fabaceae) were probably cultivated near Cheqoq and should appear in

all household assemblages. There may be preservation issues contributing to the lack of

ubiquity for those taxa. The rarity of Zea mays and Erythroxylum coca, on the other hand,

are not surprising, as they should have a restricted distribution to retainer (and Cheqoq

administrator?) households.

The differences in taxa frequencies may not be totally accounted for by sample

size, though. Focusing on the largest two samples – Areas H and Q – we find that Area Q

yielded Fabaceae seeds in two contexts and Area H yielded none. Eleven whole seed

fragments were found in a possible hearth, while three fragmentary seeds were identified

in a sub-floor offering with several other taxa. The ubiquity measures found in table 8.4

251

help to illustrate how widespread each taxon was within a single household (what

percentage of samples had at least one occurrence of a taxon for each household).

Table 8.4. Ubiquity (percentage presence) measure of important food remains. Ubiquity is the number of samples in which each taxon appears at least once divided by the total number of samples collected.9

(Columns 1 through 5 here are derived from columns 1 through 5 in Table 8.3.)

9 For example, Amaranthaceae occurs in one out of three bulk sediment samples collected from Area G. Thus, the ubiquity of Amaranthaceae in Area G is 33.3% (1/3).

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Figure 8.1. Ubiquity of important food taxa by domestic Area

The ubiquity measures demonstrate which taxa appeared in few contexts and

which appeared in many. For example, Fabaceae only occurred in two contexts where it

was present. On the other hand, the households that yielded maize showed a high

ubiquity of the crop, indicating it was widespread spatially. In Area N, coca had a

relatively high ubiquity compared to the other two households where it appeared, in

which coca occurred in only 3% of samples.

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Table 8.5. Density of NISP per liter of sediment for important food taxa

Figure 8.2. Density (NISP per liter of floated bulk sediment) of important food taxa by domestic Area

These density measures show that Fabaceae (possibly legumes) had a low

recovery rate, which may explain why it only appeared in Area Q. The ubiquity measure

(percentage presence) above also helps elucidate some of these biases. Coca was

254

recovered in greater numbers per liter of sediment in Area Q, but this is due to the fact

that all the coca seeds were recovered from a sub-floor offering described in Chapter 9.

Coca seeds from Area N appeared on the floor of a patio area and those from Area H

were recovered on the floor of the semi-circular structure.

Maize was especially frequent in Area Q, where it was embedded in the floors of

both structures. A potential bias again occurs, as 18 of the 41 maize specimens from Area

Q came from the sub-floor offering, which was full of charred botanicals. In Area H,

maize specimens came from the floor of the semi-circular structure and the floor of a

patio, adjacent to possible hearths. In Area M, maize was again associated with the

interiors of two domestic structures. Quinoa and kiwicha were recovered across all

household areas, on occupation floors inside and outside. The possible tubers represented

by Solanum sp. seeds, were infrequent.10

Macrobotanical remains from dry screening and hand recovery are also discussed,

though they were not systematically analyzed. There were 317 identified specimens from

horizontally excavated domestic Areas (tables 8.6, 8.7). These samples provide an extra

dimension of information on wood charcoal especially, which is more friable and

susceptible to breakage during flotation. Additionally, wood charcoal is heavier and less

likely to float, which may explain its superior recovery by hand at Cheqoq (Pearsall

1989: 20). There are a few taxa in this sample that did not appear in flotation samples.

Taxa from both the bulk sediment and hand-recovered samples are compared in a

presence-absence table below (table 8.8).

10 Note that, as explained in Chapter 5, bulk samples were collected in all strata, not just floors, hearths, and middens.

255

Table 8.6. Floral taxa identified in hand-recovered samples

256

Tab

le 8

.7. R

aw c

ount

s of i

dent

ified

mac

robo

tani

cal a

nd a

nthr

acol

ogic

al sa

mpl

es (f

ragm

ente

d an

d w

hole

) fro

m d

ry

scre

enin

g an

d ha

nd re

cove

ry in

hor

izon

tally

exc

avat

ed d

omes

tic a

reas

. Not

col

lect

ed o

r ana

lyze

d sy

stem

atic

ally

.

257

Tab

le 8

.8. I

nven

tory

of t

axa

by d

omes

tic A

rea

usin

g bo

th sy

stem

atic

flot

atio

n sa

mpl

es a

nd h

and-

reco

vere

d sp

ecim

ens

258

The storage structure in Area F yielded Phaseolus (possibly beans), maize, muña,

quinoa/kiwicha, Magnoliopsida, Poaceae, Ageratina, Solanaceae, and Verbena (Bertone

2010, 2011). All taxa but verbena were also found in the domestic structures.11

Muña, an herbaceous wild shrub, generally grows above 2800 masl (Gade 1975:

200). Today, it is found growing around Cheqoq. Muña serves as both a condiment for

flavoring certain foods like potato stews (Franquemont et al. 1990: 19) and a good

preservative that fends off bacteria, fungi, and insects when stored with cultivars

(especially potatoes) in otherwise risky environments. It has also been cited as an

infusion used for unspecified household remedies (Gade 1975: 200). Muña appears

frequently in three households (Areas H, M, and Q – the largest samples), without an

apparent patterning that would link its spatial distribution to a particular function.

Whether its presence can indicate use of a luxury food or not is debatable, as it probably

grew locally.

All the

comestibles represented in the storage assemblages are also found in at least some of the

domestic areas at Cheqoq, namely legumes, maize, quinoa, kiwicha, and tubers.

Additionally, the useful herb muña was recovered in both types of contexts.

Taxa in the Amaranthaceae family included domesticated and wild grasses,

including quinoa, kiwicha (amaranth), and kañiwa. Some of the specimens were

classified to the genus level, indicating quinoa or kiwicha with more certainty, but the

majority was identified by a broader family level classification of “Cheno/Am.”

11 Verbena is today used as a hangover and headache cure (Franquemont et al. 1990: 106).

259

Together, Amaranthaceae made up 60.7% of the identified foodstuffs in the domestic

terraces.

Quinoa and kiwicha are hardy crops. The former is resistant to drought and cold

and distributed between 2770 and 3800 masl (Gade 1975: 154), while the latter is

resistant to drought with a slightly lower altitude tolerance (National Research Council

[NRC] 1989: 124). These species contribute a substantial amount of protein and amino

acids to the Andean diet (NRC 1989). Quinoa stalks can be used as ash for making llipta,

an alkaline employed in masticating coca leaf (Gade 1975: 155-56). The leaves of

Chenopodiaceae can be served as cooked greens as well (Franquemont et al. 1990: 24).

Seeds are washed and boiled and eaten in soups and stews primarily.

Solanaceae and Solanum were not identified to the species level in any context

and thus may include wild plants, fruits, capsicum pepper (ají or chili pepper), or wild or

domesticated potatoes. Potatoes, along with Amaranthaceae and maize, were staple crops

in the Andean highlands, including the Inka heartland. Solanum sp. made up just 8.6% of

the major food crops in the assemblage, although tubers do not preserve well.12

12 Hastorf’s studies did not find the expected prevalence of tubers in domestic excavations either (2001).

Potatoes

are an important buffer crop in the Andes, especially when turned into their freeze-dried

varieties of ch’uñu and moraya, which permit longer storage (ch’uñu was observed in the

Cheqoq storehouse excavations by Guevara [2004]). Potato can be consumed in many

ways, primarily through boiling for stews or baking in earth ovens (which occurred away

from a house and would probably not appear in the domestic record). Because the whole

potato is consumed, it leaves little trace of consumption. Ch’uñu may be found in storage

260

settings, but CHAP only identified Solanaceae and Solanum seeds. Seeds would indeed

be indicative of processing, as Hastorf suggested (1990).

Maize made up 19% of the household food remains, but was only identified in

Areas H, M, and Q. It is both a staple crop and an important good for ritual activities

including aqha brewing and consumption and the symbolic plowing of fields (Bauer

1996, Doutriaux 2001, Hastorf and Johannessen 1993, Jennings and Bowser 2008, Morris

1979, Murra 1960). The maize identified at Cheqoq is a large-kernel variety, not a

popping corn (Bertone 2011). However, its precise provenience is uncertain (see Covey

2006a: 52). The identified variety may not be suitable for brewing aqha (Hastorf and

Johannessen 1993).

Today, maize is consumed boiled, parched, ground in various forms, popped, and

brewed as aqha, as in the Inka past (Gade 1975: 126-7). Although INC excavations

previously found a carbonized maize cob in their storehouse excavations (Guevara 2004),

CHAP only identified kernels and stems in the domestic sector. This distribution may

indicate that most maize arrived at the site shelled. Cobs are useful as a fuel source and

should have been recovered in the charred remains of hearths if they were used as fuel.

Access to maize for consumption seems to have been restricted since its hard pericarp

helps it preserve well compared to quinoa seeds and the fruit structures of other plants.

Maize was found in three households and was relatively ubiquitous in two of those

(Areas H and Q). We found maize on floors and in and near hearths, but it was not

identified in Areas G, N, and R. From flotation samples, Area Q had 56% of the maize,

Area H 40%, and Area M just 4%. The distribution of maize relative to household hearths

261

may indicate it was to be consumed as food rather than drink, as kernels would not likely

be burned in the brewing process and the type we identified does not seem to be a

brewing variety.

Coca is another identified taxon that is not cultivated near Cheqoq. Rather, it

mostly grows in the yungas, around 1920 to 730 masl (Gade 1975: 176, Julien 1998),

though there were also plots near the Yucay Valley under noble ownership and for elite

consumption (Covey 2006b: 226-28). Only the seed of the coca plant was identified at

Cheqoq, which appeared in Areas H, N, and Q in isolated loci. The locus in Area Q

corresponds to an offering cache. Though coca is often associated with ceremonial

occasions and high status, it was also made available – at least on occasion – to non-elites

(see above discussion on Abancay state farm).

Overall, the botanical remains of diet are comparable to those found in the

etically identified elite and commoner Xauxa households, where maize and quinoa

dominated the assemblages and other taxa were uncommon (Hastorf 2001). However, it

is notable that maize was not found in every household. Furthermore, there were few

high-value and non-local foods other than coca at Cheqoq.13

Taking into account all the botanical data, Area Q emerges as a candidate for the

best provisioned household among those sampled. It has greater frequencies, densities,

and ubiquities of maize and coca, with lower occurrences of tubers and quinoa.

Furthermore, with other data sets considered, Area Q appears to exhibit a higher status

relative to other Cheqoq households. As discussed elsewhere, it is located optimally and

13 At Wat’a, for example, Kosiba’s excavations yielded guayaba (Psidium guajava) seeds from the lowlands in the Inka period (2010), which possibly constituted a luxury good due to its distant origin.

262

centrally on Cheqoq, near the height of the site and near the possible ritual areas. As a

household, it processed and consumed a wide variety of plant resources.14

Faunal remains

The faunal assemblage is better preserved than the botanical remains but is still

subject to its own set of biases and limitations.15 Faunal remains were recovered by

screening with ¼” mesh and then identified by taxa using a limited comparative

collection and reference drawings.16

The chronicler Cobo insisted that commoners ate very little meat, except ch’arki

(dried meat) (1990[1653]: Pt. II, Ch. 5). At Cheqoq and other Inka sites where research

has included faunal analysis (e.g., Kosiba 2010; Sandefur 2001), however, we do not find

that to be the case. Inka commoner and elite diets were particularly rich in domesticated

animals. The Andean domesticates include llama, alpaca, guinea pig, dog, and Muscovy

duck (though the duck is sometimes wild). All were identified at Cheqoq in the Inka

period, though there is no evidence that the dog remains were related to food

Units of quantification included NISP, MNE, MNI,

and weights (Reitz and Wing 1999). MNI was determined by assessing anatomical side,

element section, fusion (Kent 1982, Miller 2003) and dental eruption stages (Wheeler

1982), size, and provenience.

14 I will not attempt to quantitatively analyze diversity and richness of the botanical data set, as the problems inherent in doing so with such divergent sample sizes has been thoroughly discussed already (e.g., Jones et al. 1983; Meltzer et al. 1992). 15 For example, “vulnerable” bone ends such as the proximal humerus, proximal femur, distal femur, and proximal tibia all consist of spongy cancellous bone that is often exposed in butchery and broth production (Miller 2003: 9). Being more susceptible to erosion during and after deposition, these bones will appear less frequently in the archaeological assemblage. Furthermore, the proximal and distal ends of such long bones are very useful in assessing age at death; their absence may skew age profile results. 16 The lack of available reference collections beyond my personal acquisitions may bias the sample toward more easily identified taxa, with more exotic specimens being classified as unidentified for now.

263

consumption. A few wild species were identified in the six horizontally excavated

domestic terraces as well, including mountain viscacha, possible peccary, unidentified

birds, and artiodactyls that may have included deer and camelids. Mice were also

identified, possibly resulting from post-depositional activity, as they co-occurred with

domestic rubbish.

Wild, hunted species made up a very small portion of the diet at Cheqoq and did

not appear in all households. All identified wild birds and mammals were recovered in

Areas M and N, except a possible peccary mandible fragment in Area Q. Referring back

to the analogy of American plantation slave diets, researchers there found diets

supplemented with hunting outside the plantation economy. Perhaps retainer households

at Cheqoq also procured wild species to augment their diet of site-based camelids and

guinea pigs. Alternatively, the nobility to whom they were attached may have provided

the meat in reciprocal acknowledgement of estate labor service. The presence of non-

domestic taxa in the Cheqoq households is noteworthy, as hunting a restricted economic

endeavor in some venues. The Inka’s hunting lands of the Yucay estate were allegedly

restricted for use by the nobility (Niles 1999: 145-46). Wild taxa can be considered as

gifts or the outcome of unsanctioned behavior by Cheqoq residents; determining how

they arrived at the site depends largely on the precise species, its habitat range and

behavior, and an understanding of processes that we cannot know currently.

For the Inka households discussed here, we inventoried 89 kg of faunal material,

including 5229 specimens (NISP) (tables 8.9, 8.10, 8.11). Excluding specimens only

identified as “unidentified mammal,” we were able to identify 1094 specimens (NISP)

264

(MNE=677; MNI=244). The taxa identified in that count included specimens from the

order Artiodactyla that could not be classified as either Camelidae or Cervidae with

certainty (26% MNE). Due to the lack of identified cervid remains in the Inka

assemblage, I treat the artiodactyl remains as camelids.

Camelidae were most abundant overall (57% MNE). The Camelidae family

includes wild species Lama guanicoe and Vicugna vicugna and domesticated species

Lama glama and Vicugna pacos. I did not attempt to differentiate them by using the

problematic osteometric methods of measuring phalanges, astragali, and calcanea. Most

likely all camelids were llamas, as all mandibular incisors had enamel on both sides

(while alpacas only have enamel on the labial side) (Davis 2010: 46).

The next most abundant taxon overall in the domestic terraces was Rodentia

excluding guinea pig (10% MNE). These were only identified to the level of order but

were likely composed of mice and rats, based on size. They are not considered a food

source but coincide with middens and grain storage in some Cheqoq contexts. Cavia

porcellus, or domestic guinea pig, composed 4% (MNE) of the assemblage. Guinea pig,

or “cuy” in Quechua, are raised within the home, eating scraps off the floor, and

sometimes kept in pens. Nutritionally, guinea pig is an important part of the diet for its fat

and protein content (Rosenfeld 2008). Cuy remains have a biased recovery rate in

archaeological sites due to depositional effects on preservation, as well as loss through

dry screening (Valdez and Valdez 1997). It is possible they represented a larger portion

265

of the faunal consumption than seen through osteological analysis.17

Unidentified birds of the class Aves were found infrequently (1% MNE) in

domestic Areas. All unidentified birds were from Area M. Two were of a small species

and another was a larger species (MNI=3). Additionally, one element from a Muscovy

duck was identified in Area M (0.15% MNE) (in association with the other bird remains).

Muscovy duck (Cairina moschata) is a wild and domesticated large forest duck (Donkin

1989, Stahl 2008). Domesticates are difficult to differentiate in archaeological

assemblages (Stahl 2005, Stahl et al. 2006). Muscovy duck was not found in Sandefur’s

Xauxa assemblage (2001), though they have been found in other provincial Inka

assemblages alongside camelids and guinea pigs (Rodríguez-Loredo 1997-1998).

Cuy, like llamas and

alpacas, were not only a key subsistence good, but were also used in ritual and divination

(Stahl 2008). We found no clear evidence for their use in ritual activities at Inka Cheqoq.

The mountain viscacha, or Lagidium peruanum (1% MNE), was also uncommon.

Viscachas are not often found in Inka assemblages. Miller identified some Chinchillidae

remains in commoner burials from Machu Picchu and interpreted them as food for

mortuary ritual activities (2003). Archaeologists identified Chinchillidae remains in

Argentina (Quintana and Mazzanti 2011) and the north coast (Amanda Aland, personal

communication 2011) in Inka period sites, but they are either not identified or not

reported in the few faunal studies available near Cuzco (cf. Davis 2010, who reports a

few viscacha remains for nearby Formative period Yuthu).

17 On the other hand, the recovery rate may not have been so problematic, as flotation sampling of 1315 liters of sediment in 2010 only yielded five cuy bones in the heavy fraction screened through a 1 mm sieve.

266

The final three taxa represented by only one specimen are unidentified Felidae

(0.15% MNE), Canidae (0.15% MNE), and possible Tayassu pecari (0.15% MNE). The

dog remains were a single molar on a house floor, not likely representing food

consumption. The unidentified small felid tibia in the patio of Area N may belong to the

pampas cat, a taxon identified at Formative Yuthu (Davis 2010). The possible South

American peccary consisted of a fragment of a mandible with its premolar and molar on

the occupational floor of Area Q (fig. 8.3). The species was identified through drawings,

so the identification is uncertain (Hillson 2005: 130).

Figure 8.3. Two views of a possible peccary mandible fragment from Area Q

267

Tab

le 8

.9. N

ISP

coun

ts fo

r all

faun

al ta

xa in

dom

estic

Are

as

268

Table 8.10. MNE counts for all faunal taxa in domestic Areas

Table 8.11. MNI counts for all faunal taxa in domestic Areas

The overall distribution of the major taxa for these domestic terraces (fig. 8.4) is

comparable to other Inka period site assemblages (e.g., Capriles et al. 2010, Sandefur

2001). Camelids were most common, followed by guinea pig. The hunted and uncommon

taxa appeared only in Areas M and N (except for the peccary mandible in Area Q). Were

269

these exotic and non-quotidian goods considered luxury items by the inhabitants of

Cheqoq? Bakels and Jacomet have defined luxury foods as those not necessary for

survival and which are difficult to procure (2003). The mountain viscacha, for example,

is difficult to catch as opposed to a corralled cuy or llama. However, the quantities in

which viscacha were found were negligible, so they were not eaten on a daily basis. For a

contrast with the Cheqoq household assemblage, table 8.12 reproduces Miller’s mortuary

faunal assemblages. The variety of non-domesticates in mortuary settings implies a ritual

importance of “luxury” taxa for the Inka and specifically the interred retainers at Machu

Picchu. Some of the same rare taxa occur, such as Chinchillidae, Felidae, and a few

birds. Moreover, the mortuary assemblage represents a conscious event of deposition,

while domestic refuse is mostly deposited by chance and casually.

Figure 8.4. Stacked bar chart showing raw frequencies (MNE) of common and uncommon faunal species by domestic Area

270

Table 8.12. Faunal material recovered in Machu Picchu tombs (Miller 2003: 6) for comparison with the Cheqoq dietary assemblage

One way to examine intrasite status differences with faunal assemblages is by

body part and meat yield comparisons, though deFrance has warned against putting too

much weight on these studies. She reminds us that that cranial elements can be extra fatty

and metapodials may yield a lot of tasty marrow, negating the assumption that they are

unfavorable parts to consume (2009b: 123). Researchers have found several ways to

separate camelid body parts to determine skeletal economic packages. For example,

271

Aldenderfer considered the trunk as the meatiest, the hindlimbs and forelimbs as

intermediately meaty, and the cranial package as the least meaty (1998). Sandefur, on the

other hand, grouped skeletal elements into just two types, meaty and non-meaty (2001).

The latter is composed of the head and lower limbs (cf. deFrance 2009b). Recognizing

that meat yields are on a continuum and aiming for simplicity, I explore any differences

between households following Sandefur’s meat packages system (tables 8.13, 8.14).

272

Tab

le 8

.13.

Ske

leta

l ele

men

t dat

a fo

r cam

elid

s and

arti

odac

tyls

by

MN

E

273

Table 8.14. Meat packages (camelid and artiodactyl) by MNE and weight, following Sandefur (2001)18

Area R yielded significantly more meaty parts than non-meaty by MNE and

weight, but other households did not show significant differences. Capriles and his

colleagues found a trend toward more non-meaty packages in the Inka period compared

with the pre-Inka at Yoroma (2010). They observed greater percentages of meaty

elements in elite households in the Inka period, suggesting feasting in sponsored settings.

Sandefur’s study at the UMARP sites showed meatier packages of camelid in elite patios

in the LIP, which she also attributed to feasting (2001; Costin and Earle 1989). For the

Inka period, Sandefur found that meaty parts increased in commoner patios, which she

explained as tributaries who received meat in exchange for work with the Inka’s herds.

Since camelids were probably herded at Cheqoq, perhaps camelid meat was easily

accessed by all and households did not receive different qualities of meat. The lack of 18 I also divided the skeletal elements according to Aldenderfer’s tripartite system (1998), yielding the same result. In both cases, a chi-square test of MNE indicated no statistically significant differences between the assemblages (using Aldenderfer’s division: χ2 = 10.353, df = 8, p = 0.241; using Sandefur’s division: χ2 = 5.778, df = 4, p = 0.216). Area R was the exception under Sandefur’s system (Freeman-Tukey deviates showed significant differences at the p < 0.05 level). With Aldenderfer’s, Area Q had significantly less cranial parts and Area H had significantly less limb elements.

274

difference in meat packages between households complements the finding that camelid

age at death did not significantly differ between Cheqoq households either (Chapter 6).

Camelids identified at Cheqoq overall were composed mostly of adults (38% MNE),

fewer elderly individuals (3% MNE), and a combined 15% (MNE) of subadults,

juveniles, and immature camelids (following Sandefur 2001) (χ2 = 6.490, df = 4, p =

0.165).

Although there are no striking patterns for age at death or elemental distribution

among Cheqoq households, we may find differences in meat preparation. Boiling food is

more cost-effective than roasting (Sandefur 2001: 194) and may thus be associated with

lower status households. Roasting requires more fuel and is associated ethnographically

and archaeologically with feasting (Kosiba 2010) and, subsequently, with elite

households (Costin and Earle 1989).

We found no evidence of pot polish on camelid bones in the Inka period at

Cheqoq. However, there were burned camelid bones in low percentages in most

households. Overall, differences between households for burnt bone were not significant

(χ2 = 7.223, df = 4, p = 0.125), except for Area N, which had significantly more charred

bone than expected (table 8.15). The only camelid or artiodactyl remains with evidence

of marrow extraction were found in Area N (MNE = 7). Those specimens were recovered

around an outdoor hearth.

275

Table 8.15. Percentage of burned bone by household using MNE. Includes Camelidae and Artiodactyla.

Food processing artifacts

In addition to the direct evidence provided by the frequencies of food types,

processing-related artifacts can demonstrate how households participated in cooking and

serving foods. Archaeologists traditionally use the presence and distribution of hearths to

identify households and the economic autonomy or interrelatedness of households (Nash

2009: 219). Using ethnographic analogy, archaeologists assume that a single hearth

represents a single nuclear family unit, even though ethnographic case studies have not

always found this to be the case (see Coleman 2008, Weismantel 1988). The same has

been proposed for the presence and absence of grinding stones, which are essential for

processing certain cultivars, such as separating quinoa from the chaff or grinding maize

for aqha production.

An example of a study incorporating many artifactual elements – hearths,

grinding stones, and processing-related pottery – for reconstructing food preparation is

Coleman’s summary of the data from the UMARP households (2008). She found

276

differential distribution of grinding stones and hearths between commoner patio groups

(elite patio groups were not included in the analysis, due to possible biases from feast

preparation tools). There were statistically significant differences between patio groups.

Not all houses yielded grinding stones, indicating shared production responsibilities

among patio groups with etic commoner designations. Coleman argued that better-

established or longer occupied homes would have more complete toolkits with more

lithic processing tools. This assessment was corroborated with ethnographic analogy.

Our excavations did not find large grinding stones in every household, though

there are taphonomic considerations related to that issue. At Cheqoq, where the overall

occupational history in the Inka period is presumed to be relatively short (a few decades)

with limited reoccupation of ancestral homes, perhaps we should not expect to find

extensive processing tools in each terrace. However, in conjunction with other types of

evidence, greater and lesser frequencies of processing tools may be related to intrasite

status and hierarchical labor relationships at the supra-household level.

277

Table 8.16. Lithic tools possibly used in butchering meat19

The raw counts of chipped stone tools and percussion tools that could be used for

smashing and cutting meat were combined to determine which households engaged in

butchering meat within the domestic area (table 8.16). These included large

hammerstones, flake tools (including bimarginal flake tools), and unidirectional and

multidirectional cores (Andrefsky 2005). All were made of locally and regionally

available sedimentary and metamorphic rocks (Maras Plain and Xaquixaguana Plain),

except a few obsidian tools. The latter were recovered in Areas M and Q and were small

(each weighing less than 1 gram). The local stone quarried at Cheqoq – andesite and

rhyolite – is ideal for grinding foodstuffs due to its roughness and easy accessibility

(Liebowitz 2008: 190-91).

19 Tools per meter-squared is used to normalize the counts. I used square meters instead of cubic meters because these counts are from single occupational floors.

278

In terms of grinding stones, we did not find a ubiquity of large fixed grinding

stones, but rather handheld netherstones, handstones, and pestles (Adams 2002) (table

8.17, fig. 8.5). Some of the winikuna, the donut-shaped clodbreakers discussed in Chapter

6, may alternatively be netherstones for pulverizing foodstuffs, especially condiments,

due to their small size. However, they were omitted from this analysis as they were

already considered agricultural tools.

One mid-sized, fixed grinding stone was found in a domestic terrace (Area H),

which had a rounded shape with a 25 cm diameter and a heavily used interior (fig. 8.6).

Half of the grinding stone was recovered from the center of the floor of the semi-circular

structure in Area H, as if it had been intentionally broken and left. Such an act at the

moment of abandonment has been noted cross-culturally as a way of establishing the

finality of the house through breakage (Adams 2008). Though Coleman (2008) argues

otherwise, archaeologists often suggest that grinding slabs are moved with residents when

abandoning a house, which is sometimes used to explain the absence of the stones in the

material record (e.g., Nash 2002).

279

Table 8.17. Grinding stone counts and weights by domestic terrace

Figure 8.5. Examples of grinding stones from Area H

280

Figure 8.6. Reverse and obverse of broken grinding stone recovered on the floor of semi-circular structure in Area H

In her study of Xauxa patio groups, Hastorf found that grinding tools increased

under the Inka. She attributed the change to a switch from maize boiled in soups and

stews to maize ground for aqha processing (1993, Hastorf and Johannessen 1993). A

weakness of that interpretation is that grinding stones are used for processing plants other

than maize. At Cheqoq, we can only associate higher frequencies of grinding stones with

the presence of preparation activities; there is no attempt to assign the tools to a particular

type of plant processing. The grinding tools were not of dimensions suitable for

processing large quantities of ground maize and there were not apparent correlations

between aqha processing vessels, maize grinding tools, and burned maize by household

281

to indicate maize beer production. Based on the combination of the chipped stone and

grinding stone tools, it seems that Area Q was more intensively engaged in butchering

and Area H and M were relatively more engaged in botanical processing. The latter were

also two of the three areas (the other being Area Q) that yielded burnt maize kernels.

To understand another dimension of food processing and consumption, the

Serving Vessel Index (SVI) enables a comparison of the ratios of serving vessels to

cooking vessels between households (Turkon 2004, Welch and Scarry 1995). Serving

vessels should be found in greater frequencies in elite contexts, based on the correlation

of serving activities and labor hierarchies. At Cheqoq, I consider undecorated pots to be

good indicators of cooking activity and decorated (both Cuzco-Inka and other types)

cups, plates, and bowls to be good indicators of serving activities (fig. 8.7).20

Aqha

brewing, storing, and serving are often associated with wide-mouth jars (urpu, where

aqha is initially fermented [Hastorf and Johannessen 1993]) and narrow-mouth jars (used

for secondary fermentation, storage, and serving [ibid.]). These are not considered in the

SVI but are explored below (fig. 8.8).

20 I excluded some vessel types that have ambiguous functions.

282

Figure 8.7. The Serving Vessel Index provides the ratio of serving (Inka and other decorated cups, bowls, and plates) to cooking vessels (utilitarian ware pots)

283

Figure 8.8. Bar chart comparing serving, cooking, and (possible) aqha processing and serving jars per square meter per household Figure 8.8 compares the cooking and serving vessels included in the SVI to wide-

mouth and narrow-mouth jars that are sometimes used with aqha production and serving.

The aqha category is problematic since the multiple uses of vessel types makes it difficult

to separate the production of the drink from its consumption. Thus, the number of vessels

per square meter may not be meaningful to spatial function and household status and

activities until those can be separated.

As the Inka and Inka-related and unknown decorated serving vessel types were

conflated in the above charts, I include the following chart that separates Cuzco-Inka

decorated serving vessels from other decorated serving vessel types to see which

households adhered most to the imperial style in their serving activities (fig. 8.9). Fidelity

284

to Inka style in serving activities may be an indicator of status vis-à-vis the laborer-

administrator relationship and/or assimilation to Inka identity by certain households.21

Figure 8.9. The ratio of Cuzco-Inka to non-Inka decorated serving vessels (plates, bowls, and cups). The non-Inka category includes “LIP undefined decorated.”

Status and identity reconstructed through food processing and consumption

From the suite of data reviewed in this chapter, a clear picture of relative status

based on access to “luxury” foods, food processing activities, and serving practices

among Cheqoq households does not emerge (table 8.18). However, there are patterns of

artifacts reflecting single types of activities occurring more frequently or more intensely

in some areas in contrast with others. There is also a pattern of fidelity to the Inka style in

21 Though keep in mind that vessels were probably informally carried away from the workshop, which would leave ambiguous patterning in relation to status and Inka identity.

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serving food and drink, though it may be explained by the function of exterior spaces in

Area N rather than an elevated status and occupation of the Area N household.

Elite cuisine is often characterized as inefficient goods that require significant

labor input or domesticates that are calorically inefficient, such as animals that must be

fed maize (Clark and Parry 1990, Curet and Pestle 2010, Pohl 1994). Bray has argued

that there is a specific Inka haute cuisine designed to distinguish between social statuses

in Inka society that can be seen through decorated vessel types (2003). She presented

pottery as culinary equipment, though much of the sample originated in mortuary

contexts rather than elite households, and was composed mostly of whole or nearly whole

vessels. Bray linked each vessel type techno-functionally to a specific cuisine for the Inka

elite. The argument that elite Inka cuisine involved variety and costly foods is worth

testing with excavation data. Such a model, building on ethnohistory, linguistics, and

general models derived from other agropastoral societies, is easily applied to assessing

foodways between households and between communities.

However, a more robust material sample, like that begun at Cheqoq, is necessary

to better assess the implementation of Inka elite cuisine at the site and household level.

Using the information described by Bray, we find evidence for some patterns of Inka elite

cuisine in all of the domestic terraces to greater or lesser degrees. Notably, each element

of elite cuisine – namely roasted meat, maize-heavy dishes, condiments, and aqha – is

not found all together in any single household. There is variability in the degree to which

retainer laborers and their intermediate elite administrators would have dined like a

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proper Inka. No single household yielded evidence for the suite of expected evidence for

a complete Inka haute cuisine.

Table 8.18. Summary of relative differences in activity frequencies between households, using data from this chapter and Chapter 6

The alternative to finding clear differences in elite cuisine and patterns of food

processing and consumption is that all households were relatively equal in status. In this

scenario, there may be dimensions of identity and status that did not significantly affect

food preparation and consumption practices. There may not be clear methods by which to

differentiate the ends of the eliteness spectrum at sites where the connection between

social status and food processing are unknown. There are no other excavated estate

habitation sites with which to compare these data. As deFrance reminds us, status is a

continuum with many factors contributing to its material manifestations (2009b: 131).

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Moreover, when dealing with diet and cuisine there are greater limitations on the

archaeological record due to site formation; thus, it is best to proceed with caution in

dealing with these data.

In terms of implications for the greater estate economy, there may have been a

household-based division of labor for subsistence production both within and outside the

domestic context, as glimpsed above. Whether that was through mandate by the nobility

to which the retainers were attached is not detectable. However, the daily practice of

participating in estate labor would have looked different from household to household.

Perhaps those that evidence less food processing activity were instead focused on

specialized craft production, for example.

Foodways in general were diverse at Cheqoq. Practices of consumption varied –

transcending any apparent status lines. Some households were more assimilated to Inka

consumption practices than others, using Cuzco-Inka pottery, though not necessarily

consuming more “Inka” foods. Another dimension that can contribute to the above

differences is demography (i.e., gender and age). For instance, if we accept Guaman

Poma de Ayala’s models of the gendered division of labor in Inka households and

communities, then we may correlate archaeological evidence of grinding and cooking

within households with women’s work. Young women and young female children

participated in making aqha and learned to cook at home with their mothers (Guaman

Poma de Ayala 2001 [1615-16]: ff. 226-30). Thus, Areas H and M would be interpreted

as more female-related areas. The archaeological record of food processing and

consumption demonstrates some diversity between households that may be explained by

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a combination of status differences, identity, or even preference, but also differences in

the labor of procurement and household makeup.

Residents of Cheqoq did not only consume what was provided via their usufruct

rights to fields (and herds), they also made their own food choices. Some consumption

patterns do not fit with expectations based on what we already know about production at

Cheqoq and restriction of goods on the estate and with retainer populations. In

conjunction with other production and consumption data, we can begin to attribute

certain food processing and consumption patterns to assimilation to Inka identity, labor

hierarchies, intrasite status differences, or the acquisition of goods not related to any of

these phenomena. The following chapter presents data on intramural production and

consumption of wealth and craft goods in order to assess status and identity from one

more dimension and supplement the ambiguous findings here.

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Chapter 9

DOMESTIC WEALTH ECONOMY AT CHEQOQ

Consumption and production of wealth or prestige goods within households are

evaluated to examine another dimension of the archaeological correlates of social and

economic relations (see Earle 1982, Hodder 1982, Smith 1987).1

1 In this chapter, I use the term “wealth goods” as a catch-all for exotic or rare raw materials, as well as elite, luxury, and prestige goods that have a high intrinsic social value and sometimes serve to highlight social categories (see Appadurai 1986, Douglas and Isherwood 1979). Food that falls within these categories is excluded, as it was treated as “luxury food” or elite food in Chapter 8. The use of a catch-all is a semantic decision made to streamline the language used to refer to the artifacts described here. In many cases, I am not sure of how to classify some goods within more specific categories.

The data presented here

(ceramic and non-ceramic goods) are meant to complement the household-based analysis

of diet and cuisine in Chapter 8. While foodways did not yield clear patterns of status and

identity differences, they may be more indicative when paired with prestige goods

distribution. There is not much evidence that wealth production occurred within domestic

terraces at Cheqoq, but there are some artifacts that indicate ad hoc production of certain

goods in a few areas. While there is evidence for attached specialization (sensu Brumfiel

and Earle 1987) in a retainer workshop producing Cuzco-Inka pottery in Area U, there

seems to be non-specialized household-based production of craft goods on some terraces.

In addition to assessing intramural (within the household) craft production, this chapter

also addresses the distribution of prestige goods and ritual-related contexts. Comparing

production to consumption affects our understanding of the means of acquisition of

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prestige, wealth, and craft goods. A study of production, distribution, and consumption of

wealth goods at the household level provides one more medium by which to reconstruct

the noble economy of the Inka royal estate.2

Archaeological and ethnographic studies demonstrate the strong association

between possessions in domestic contexts and overall household wealth across societies

(Smith 1987). Smith’s study emphasized the correlation between quantity, diversity, and

place of origin of wealth goods to household wealth. Moreover, Smith also argued that

household wealth and luxury goods (non-utilitarian items and goods with high social and

political value) could indicate status in the archaeological record. Material measures of

wealth are a practical proxy for status differences between households in archaeological

studies. However, social scientists also recognize the effect that agency has on

consumption. Things are acquired to express identity, things are given to transfer value or

reciprocate, but consumption is also a “continual albeit largely unexpressed process of

self-definition and collective identification” (Mullins 2011: 135). Some of the prestige

goods in Cheqoq households were presumably acquired through redistribution from the

nobility down into the estate residences. Other goods were taken from the pottery

workshop by residents, perhaps without explicit sanction. And yet other goods might

have been brought into the estate’s households by kin relations that operated apart from

the noble economy. The majority of the goods discussed here are not numerous enough to

be assessed by quantity between contexts, but a qualitative analysis is useful.

2 Additionally, finished wealth goods (non-ceramic) from Area U are presented in this chapter in order to assess potter identity and ritual, as possible.

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Furthermore, this study should be expanded through continued horizontal excavations

that allow for regional-level comparisons of wealth goods contexts.

The goods discussed here, which include metal, shell, lapidary, and ceramic

goods, are considered wealth or prestige goods because of their symbolic associations in

prehispanic society and their archaeological and ethnohistorical associations with high

status or restricted use within Tawantinsuyu. As Owen does (2001), I define these goods

as portable items that fall within broad definitions of high value goods with low transport

costs relative to value. Owen’s definition is also based on the concept of wealth finance,

as described by D’Altroy and Earle (1985). In that model, wealth goods were amassed by

administrators as direct tribute or as products manufactured by specialist tributary

laborers in order to be used as gifts for political allies or to be converted into staple

goods. The portability, special or rare status, and elite/state ideology linked attributes are

those that apply to the goods described here. Because Cheqoq is an estate production

settlement, the expectations for how goods were acquired are different from Owen’s, who

was discussing goods from etic elite and commoner households in provincial tributary

communities.

As an economic support installation for the noble economy, wealth goods at

Cheqoq should be acquired by: 1) reciprocal gifting from the panaqa to its administrators

and retainers; 2) bringing goods from home provinces upon re-settlement of the yana

population (though this may only apply to small display items); 3) extra production

outside normal subsistence production and noble-sponsored craft production; or 4) taking

failed products from the pottery workshop as a way to acquire Inka goods without

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sanction. By determining the means through which these goods were acquired, we can

reconstruct internal labor and status hierarchies at the site and the sociopolitical

relationships between retainers and their noble sponsors.

Taphonomic and methodological challenges create lacunae in the assemblage,

however. Some goods critical to assessing status that are nearly absent in the highland

environment include perishable wealth items such as textiles and other organic materials.

An additional bias may be the removal of valuable goods by Cheqoq residents or

Spaniards during the 16th to 17th-century abandonment of the residences of the site. In

addition to the issues of systemic versus archaeological contexts (Schiffer 1976), Smith

described general biases inherent to household wealth studies. He cited the first four

major determinants of household assemblages from Schiffer and colleagues (1981: 83)

and added two additional factors: “(1) stage in the domestic developmental cycle; (2)

degree of residential stability; (3) time elapsed since the last change of residence; and (4)

wealth or income […] (5) household size and composition […] (6) the occupations of

household members and the presence and nature of specialized production/exchange

activities in the residential area” (Smith 1987: 302; see also Coleman 2007).

The Inka managed the production of specialized wealth through several strategies,

including the establishment of state-sponsored and elite-sponsored production enclaves

(Espinoza 1973, 1983; Rowe 1948), distribution of raw materials for wealth production to

specialists and other tributaries (Covey 2009a, Murra 1962), and centralized storage of

wealth goods (Covey 2009a: 251, Morris 1967, Pizarro 1891[1571]: 500, Sancho de la

Hoz 1968[1534]: 329-30). While the state did not oversee markets and trading like the

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Aztecs (Blanton 1996), there may have been occasional market days in the imperial

capital (Covey 2009a; see also La Lone 1982, Murra 1995). Prior to and during Inka rule,

the coastal kingdoms and northern reaches of the empire saw barter and trading of wealth

goods through specialized merchants (Rostworowski 1977[1970]; Salomon 1986, 1987).

As we found at Cheqoq, within the Inka royal estate economy, some craft goods were

administered separately from the urban core (i.e., Cuzco-Inka pottery). The nobility

apparently controlled raw materials distribution and oversaw finished goods distribution

in the case of polychrome Inka pottery. However, we do not know if other forms of craft

production operated on the estate or if estate laborers, administrators, and nobility

received goods through the same political and social channels as the rest of the heartland.

The use of certain goods, especially status markers such as particular forms of

dress and adornment (Murra 1962, Stone 2007), was restricted to sectors of the Inka

population based on rank, ethnicity, or other identities. The wealth goods recovered at

Cheqoq were generally of an intermediate status and did not seem to be specific to titles

or leadership positions (Myers 1985). Inka households do not commonly yield goods

such as gold or silver, paired polychrome keros, or elaborate Spondylus shell carvings of

the likes of the most elite and sacred contexts (e.g., Burger and Salazar 2004, Cummins

2007, Reinhard 1985) and Cheqoq is no different. The modest assemblage included

fragments of metal tools and personal objects, marine shell (including Spondylus),

turquoise, non-Inka pottery, and Cuzco-Inka pottery. Each object type is discussed in its

archaeological context to understand how it was distributed to or acquired by particular

household(s) and what status or identity markers accompany its use, if any.

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Metal goods

The majority of the metal goods recovered in Cheqoq domestic contexts were

scraps or fragments of metal objects (fig. 9.1). A total of ten metal objects from the Inka

period and one colonial nail were identified.3 Inka objects included two tupus, five

variously shaped flat scraps (fragments of hammered sheets), and two unidentified,

apparently whole objects. The colonial period nail made of iron was from Area Q, a

possible administrator house.4

Figure 9.1. Examples of finished metal goods and possible production by-products from domestic contexts. A) bronze tupu or needle from the floor of the semi-circular structure in Area H; b) copper object from Area R floor; c) broken bronze tupu from patio in Area N; d) copper nail-like object from Area M floor; e) bronze scrap from Area H patio; f) copper drip from Area H patio. 3 This nail is the same as those recovered in Vitcos (Vilcabamba) from the Inka-Colonial occupation (Brian Bauer, personal communication 2009). 4 These are called “caret head” nails (Flint and Flint 2003, Wernke 2011; thanks to Steve Wernke for bringing the information to my attention). There were very few Colonial period objects in households at Cheqoq; they included this nail, fewer than ten pieces of glazed pottery, a few elements of European fauna (sheep and horse), and objects that appear to be roof tiles. Because the post-Contact artifacts are sparse, I feel confident in treating the household assemblages as Inka period contexts for the most part.

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The types of metal were identified visually, and determined to be copper, tin

bronze, or lead in all cases. Tin bronze, which was more broadly disseminated in the Inka

period than it had been before (Lechtman 2007), and copper are difficult to distinguish

visually. Thus, my identifications should be taken with caution. Of the available

comparative data from other Inka sites, only Xauxa households yielded lead objects, all

of which were utilitarian and numbered fewer than the copper and silver goods (Owen

2001). Ann Kendall’s Cusichaca household excavations (near Machu Picchu) reportedly

found only bronze items (1994). Relatively few objects were recovered in Cusichaca

households, just as at the Xauxa sites, Potrero-Payogasta in northwest Argentina (Earle

1994), and Cheqoq. Kendall’s nine excavation seasons in that region yielded just 38 Inka

metal objects (1994: 83). Cusichaca’s assemblage included tumis, tupus, bracelets,

pendants, tweezers, and needles (1994). The Machu Picchu collections include an even

wider diversity of finished metal goods that includes the above object types and more –

both tools and decorative and personal items -- and production debris (Burger 2004,

Rutledge and Gordon 1987). Cheqoq excavations resulted in a comparatively more

utilitarian metals collection, with decorative items being limited to one or two tupus.

We recovered no metal objects in Area G. Area H yielded either a needle or a

fragmented tupu and one scrap of rectangular bronze pinched on one end. Within the

patio of Area H, we found a clump of metal drippings, perhaps resulting from

metalworking. In Area M, excavations recovered an unidentified nail-like object (cf.

object 540 [Owen 2001: 271]) and a piece of a possible tweezer (cf. object 551 [ibid.]).

Area N produced a broken tupu with rounded and pierced end (cf. object 581 [ibid.]). In

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Area Q, we found a colonial nail, but also three unidentified metal scraps. From Area R,

we recovered a different kind of nail-like copper object, while Area U produced a small

spoon-like item on the north side work floor. The objects more securely associated with

personal adornment and display were the possible tupu from Area H and the tupu from

Area N, which was a simple design. Other metal objects were more utilitarian or

functional items but the acquisition of non-local metals may still reflect elevated status

when combined with the other lines of evidence below.

There may have been metalworking at Cheqoq, specifically in Area H, though the

evidence is ephemeral and minimal. No production area linked to metallurgy was

identified, such as large burned areas and tools in discrete contexts. Even in the absence

of such a specialized work space, there was very little indirect evidence for metal

production at the site, either. For example, Owen considered metal production debris in

domestic contexts to be indirect evidence for householders’ access to production facilities

(2001: 286). If metal production did indeed occur at Cheqoq, there is no clear evidence

for the type of technology used. Van Buren and Mills have described the archaeological

correlates of smelting using huayrachinas (2005).5

5 Huayrachinas are also referred to as “wind furnaces” (see Lechtman 1976).

They argue, based on

ethnoarchaeological evidence, that these short-lived structures for smelting were the

predominant technology utilized in the southern Andes. Their research indicates that

small pieces of slag, less than 3 cm in diameter, would be found in small quantities, while

the foundations of the huayrachina would be ephemeral. Part of the reason for the lack of

preservation is that huayrachinas were constructed on hilltops subject to erosion and

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degradation; hilltop placement was necessary for the open air needed for the smelting

process (cf. Olaechea [1901], Vetter et al. 2008 on the smelting facilities at Curamba [see

also Petersen 2010(1970): 48]). Garcilaso de la Vega’s chronicle lends further support to

the archaeological and ethnographic evidence, stating that the Inka did all their smelting

in the open air (1966[1609]: Bk. 1, Bk. II, Ch. 16). The single piece of metalworking by-

product recovered at Cheqoq was in Area H, which is right below an open terrace that

would be a suitable location for such an activity. Future excavations could focus on that

terrace to seek any possible production evidence.

For now, smelting at Cheqoq does not seem likely.6 However, casting or other

metalworking activities with alloys may have occurred at Cheqoq. Metallurgist

kamayuqkuna were allegedly re-settled from Ychma (Lurín and Rimac Valleys, central

coast) and re-settled at Picoypampa (near Zurite) in houses supposedly constructed by the

Inkas (Espinoza 1983; see also Covey 2009a: 251 on silversmiths re-settled by Wayna

Qhapaq in Santiago in Cuzco).7

The distribution of craft producers and their products is not yet fully understand

for the Cuzco region (see a review of what is currently known in Covey 2009a). There

It seems that specialist producers were settled in the rural

heartland in service to the urban capital and/or to the nobility. At Cheqoq, specialists

fabricated pottery for the panaqa and from Picoypampa, the Ychma resided and

specialized in metallurgy until they were removed to Carmenca (in the city of Cuzco) in

1548 (Espinoza 1983: 42).

6 The nearest archaeologically identified smelting facility to Cheqoq is Curamba in Andahuaylas (100 km west-southwest of Cheqoq) (Vetter et al. 2008). 7 Rutledge and Gordon (1987) have reviewed evidence that metallurgists were alloying, casting, and forging metal goods at the monumental site of Machu Picchu as well.

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may be Inka craft enclaves not clearly described in currently studied archival documents

(Cheqoq, for one), but the extant information indicates that they were few and far

between and may have served large areas. A key aspect of understanding the royal estate

economy and the role it played in the Inka political economy is to see where craft goods

were produced, who controlled production, and where and by whom those goods were

consumed.

Marine shell

Marine shell came in various forms at Cheqoq (fig. 9.2). Species native to the

modern Ecuadorian, Peruvian, and Chilean coasts were identified, yet none of them

exhibited evidence of craft working.8 Rather, they were whole or fragmentary, and just

one was burned.9 There were a total of 17 marine shells or shell fragments. Twelve of

those were small (~1 cm) fragments of Spondylus or spiny oyster (Spondylus sp.; native

between Panama and northwest Peru).10

8 Mollusks were identified with the aid of a catalogue by Zuñiga (2002), with the exception of Spondylus.

One fragment of Spondylus appeared in heavy

fraction from within Area U’s firing area, another on the floor of the structure in Area G,

and the other ten came from an offering pit in Area Q. In addition to the Spondylus piece

in Area U, one side of a small, burned Aulacomya ater (ribbed mussel) was also

9 In contrast, four marine shells with evidence of working were recovered in two Middle Horizon contexts at Cheqoq (including Oliva peruana or olivella, and Mesodesma donacium or clam, two species not present in the small Inka assemblage). I mention these finds from the earlier period to demonstrate that there was not an issue with preservation of shell, but rather that there were few shells deposited in these contexts, especially considering that much less sediment from the Middle Horizon was moved during the project. 10 All the recovered fragments were one centimeter wide or less. The taxonomic identification cannot be fully confirmed due to this, but the fragments were definitely of a shell with variations of red, pink, orange, and white. As Blower has argued, Spondylus may merely be the ideal standard for a valued red and white shell. He posited that mullu was not only Spondylus, but rather a gamut of items related to and similar to Spondylus shell (2001). If I am wrong in identifying this material as Spondylus, I am still comfortable in assigning the cultural symbolism and high value of Spondylus to these remains.

299

recovered from the firing area. Ribbed mussel is native from the central Peruvian coast to

the Strait of Magellan (Zuñiga 2002).

The other four marine shells were recovered from Areas H (n=2) and M (n=2). In

Area H, one fragment of a burned Semimytilus algosus or mussel (native from Central

Ecuadorian coast to Central Chilean coast [Zuñiga 2002]) was found in a patio food

preparation area. Within the matrix of the Inka burial of a female in Area H, there was

also a small, unidentifiable marine shell fragment. The other domestic area with non-

Spondylus marine shell remains was Area M, yielding two sides of a small Gari solida, a

type of clam indigenous between the northern Peruvian coast and the south-central

Chilean coast (ibid.). Neither Area N nor Area R yielded marine shell remains, but they

were subject to less excavation than the other horizontally sampled terraces.

None of these shells were worked except for a polished 1-cm Spondylus fragment

in the Area Q offering and we found no manufactured shell objects in any context. The

small ribbed mussel and Spondylus fragment found in the ceramic firing area may have

been placed there as an offering. As Spondylus is only native as far south as northwestern

Peru, perhaps any marine shell from afar would serve for offerings and as a symbol

similar to that recognized for Spondylus.11

11 Shell was offered in many forms. For example, Cobo’s descriptions of offerings made on the zeq’e lines of Cuzco included “shells,” “cut shells,” “ground-up shells,” “finely ground shells,” “colored shells,” “shells of all colors, not very well ground,” “shells, some whole and others cut in pieces,” “shells of all colors, according to the times,” “little lambs made of shell,” “shells of two colors, yellow and red,” and “small shells” (1990[1653]: 51-78).

Blower makes such an argument (2001: 217),

citing the chronicles of Acosta (1962[1590]: 247) and Murúa (1986[ca. 1590]: 422).

Spondylus has been described through ethnohistoric studies as a symbol of fertility

(human and agricultural), sexuality, and water for the Inka (Blower 2001, Murra 1975,

300

Salomon and Urioste 1991: 116). Marine shell in general held those symbolic

associations. Because of the archaeo-historical background of Inka marine shell use and

the lack of evidence for subsistence use of marine shell at Cheqoq, it is likely that the

shell remains were related to ritual activity or used in personal adornment.

In addition to the symbolic and ceremonial importance of marine shell, it is an

exotic good. The nearest ocean coast is 435 kilometers away. Adding in terrain and

transport routes, the actual distance was significantly longer. The small quantities of

seashell enjoyed by the residents of Cheqoq contrast sharply with the figurines and

jewelry made of Spondylus found in the central plaza of Cuzco and in high-altitude

sacrifices (Reinhard 1985). Furthermore, it is important to remember that Wayna

Qhapaq’s imperial efforts were focused in and around Ecuador during much of his reign,

proximate to Spondylus trading routes. He may have been able to supply his panaqa with

the material, even those residing in the Yucay Valley.

Some coastal regions also provided tribute in marine goods to Cuzco, which

would allow the objects to enter the heartland economy. Morris and Santillana argued

that the Chincha polity may have been one of several coastal groups with access to

Spondylus that formed a part of the tribute economy moving such wealth goods toward

Cuzco (2007). Inka-period Cheqoq apparently received little of the product. Seashell and

Spondylus may have been brought with the residents from their home provinces, supplied

to them through noble gift-giving, or illicitly acquired through other means. The

possession and use of exotic marine shell should reflect relative social and labor status

between Cheqoq households.

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Figure 9.2. Examples of marine shells recovered at Cheqoq. A) burned Semimytilus algosus from Area H patio floor; b) Aulacomya ater from Area U firing area; c) two side of Gari solida from Area M floor; d) polished Spondylus fragment from Area Q offering cache.

Ceramics

Although pots are not people, as often recited by archaeologists, ceramic vessels

do serve to identify individual and group associations, albeit in complex ways (Smith and

Schreiber 2005: 208). Smith has argued that serving wares in particular are good markers

of wealth as they are publicly visible and part of the household consumption ritual (1987:

312-13). Pottery has been shown through ethnoarchaeological and archaeological study

to be significant in indicating identity and status (e.g., Arnold 1984, Bowser 2000, Costin

and Earle 1989, Cowgill et al. 1984, David et al. 1988, Janusek 1999). I do not subscribe

to the idea that certain pottery types directly reflect identity, but rather propose that a

household’s entire pottery assemblage should reflect the multiple identities (i.e., more

Inka assimilated or less) and statuses that a whole household held within the royal estate

302

system and the greater empire. Thus, I compare Cuzco-Inka pottery to non-imperial ware

types, both Inka-related and non-Inka, to conceptualize differences in household

assimilation to Inka material culture and cumulative household status (table 9.1).

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Tab

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war

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B.

304

Cuzco-Inka pottery

Cuzco-Inka or imperial style pottery (Julien 1987-89; Meyers 1975; Miller 1987-

89; Pardo 1939; Rowe 1944; Valcárcel 1934, 1935) can be used as proxy for high status,

association with the nobility, and/or Cuzco-Inka ethnicity (which would entail panaqa

membership). Based on other lines of evidence, we can eliminate the idea that all Cheqoq

households were ethnically Cuzco-Inka. However, attachment to the elite vis-à-vis their

labor and social status remain good explanations for the presence of such a high

percentage of Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery. The overall assemblage percentage of

Cuzco-Inka pottery is lower at provincial domestic sites, which suggests that Cheqoq’s

residents, although perhaps of provincial identity earlier in their lives, were well

connected to the imperial identity during their estate residence (D’Altroy 2001c,

DeMarrais et al 1996). For example, in Xauxa, Costin found three times more Inka

pottery in elite households compared to commoners, implying elites acted as

intermediaries to the rest of the population on behalf of state interests (2001b: 236-37).

Morris and Covey described a similar pattern of much more Inka decorated pottery

within a possible kuraka’s house in the Chupaychu settlement of Ichu (2006).

Frequencies of Cuzco-Inka pottery in the Cheqoq households are similarly

interpreted to correspond to either administrators serving as intermediaries between the

panaqa and Cheqoq’s retainers or to households of elevated status among the producer

class. One caveat here is that some households may have acquired the imperial pottery

not via their position within the labor hierarchy, but rather due to illicit or “below the

radar” toting of misfired vessels (or even properly fired ones) from the on-site workshop.

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Both scenarios probably contributed to the household assemblages. In conjunction with

other types of material evidence, the more elite, more Inka-assimilated, or more

administrative households should emerge anyway.

Table 9.2. Raw frequency counts of diagnostic sherds from domestic Areas by ware type. Letter captions within these tables demonstrate which categories are combined at times and are maintained throughout the chapter.

Overall, within the horizontally excavated domestic terraces, there was a much

greater percentage of Cuzco-Inka decorated pottery than any other type (76%). However,

by household, some patterns develop that support the results of comparing Inka versus

non-Inka serving vessels in the previous chapter (tables 9.2, 9.3, 9.4). In that analysis,

Area H yielded the highest proportion of cooking vessels and Area N the highest

proportion of serving wares. Area N was the domestic terrace with the greatest proportion

of Cuzco-Inka serving wares as well. Area G had a greater proportion of narrow-mouth

jars than the others, possibly indicating serving (or storage) of aqha and other Inka foods

occurring there.

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Table 9.3. Frequencies and percentages of three basic decorated ware types. Does not include Killke pottery. Column captions are the same as in table 9.2.

Table 9.4. Contingency table analysis and Freeman-Tukey deviates (in parentheses) for two main decorated pottery types by household. Does not include Killke pottery. Column captions are the same as in table 9.2. There were statistically significant differences in types by household (χ2 = 209.089, df = 5, p = 0.000; Freeman-Tukey deviates for significance at the p = .05 level).

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Table 9.5 provides another way of looking at pottery assemblages in relation to

status and fidelity to Inka material culture. The significantly lower number of utilitarian

wares compared to Cuzco-Inka wares reflects greater status levels in Areas N and Q,

while the significantly higher frequencies of Inka-related pottery in relation to Cuzco-

Inka wares for Areas H, M, and R reflect their lower relative status and weaker

connection to Cuzco material culture. Areas G and Q have higher than expected

frequencies of the LIP unknown and unknown decorated types (“non-Inka”). For Area G,

that seems to indicate a stronger pull toward non-Inka affiliation in pottery display. For

Area Q, the whole of the assemblage rather indicates the greater predominance of both

non-Inka and Cuzco-Inka wares and thus the pull of at least two types of material culture

styles – Inka and non-Inka.

Table 9.5. Contingency table analysis and Freeman-Tukey deviates (in parentheses) of decorated wares versus utilitarian wares by household. Does not include Killke. Column captions are the same as in table 9.2. There were statistically significant differences in types by household (χ2 = 503.551, df = 15, p = 0.000; Freeman-Tukey deviates for significance at the p = .05 level).

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Area Q may be an administrator’s house, as evidenced by its architectural layout,

building materials, and other elements of the assemblage (Chapter 8 and here). If so, the

presence of significantly more Cuzco-Inka and non-Inka decorated pottery, with a

significantly low value for Inka-related (Cuzco-Inka designs not executed well) and

utilitarian pottery (indicating cooking, especially) may indicate the household belonged

to a non-local administrator. Such a household might use ceramic goods to express pre-

retainership identity, but also the new identity as a panaqa-linked official and

intermediary. This interpretation is tentative and tenuous, but deserves further

exploration.

Table 9.6. Frequency counts (and percentages) of cups, bowls, and plates of different styles, which demonstrate the material correlates of the household consumption ritual (Smith 1987). Column captions are as in table 9.2.

Using only sherds from cups, plates, and bowls, we can see what the household

place setting would have looked like, which is an important part of the visibility of a

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household (Smith 1987) (table 9.6). These vessels, as opposed to those used for

processing or storing in the domestic sphere, should be more indicative of the public

expression of identity and status among Cheqoq households. All domestic terraces had

serving assemblages dominated by Cuzco-Inka style serving vessels. Inka-related vessels

were more numerous than non-Inka types and again, Areas H and M yielded a greater

frequency of utilitarian ware serving vessels compared to other terraces.

When eliminating Area R due to the small sample size and combining all the non-

Inka decorated serving vessel frequencies above, the differences between Areas were

statistically significant (χ2=31.337, df= 8, p = 0.00). Area N had the only significantly

higher frequency of Cuzco-Inka serving vessels in that arrangement (Freeman-Tukey at

the p = 0.05 level = 2.32) and significantly fewer non-Inka decorated (Freeman-Tukey = -

3.85) and utilitarian serving wares (Freeman-Tukey = -1.48). With this more specific

analysis of the expression of Inka and non-Inka identity in the household consumption

ritual, Area N still shows more fidelity to the imperial and elite Cuzco-Inka style for its

serving assemblage.

One caveat remains in interpreting the predominance of imperial polychrome

style serving vessels and pottery in general as evidence for status and attachment to the

Cuzco-Inka identity. Was the pottery given freely and as official gifts to these

households, or was it taken from the pottery workshop as waste? Only pottery that visibly

displayed overfiring and misfiring could be assessed to determine the frequency of clear

production waste pottery. The contribution of clear production waste to the overall

Cuzco-Inka assemblage in the domestic terraces was relatively minor (table 9.7).

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We cannot discount the idea that some or all of the elite pottery present in

domestic contexts was brought into the home illicitly and without noble sanction. The

waster percentage surely underestimates the amount of material brought into the home

due to a “toting effect” but is still very low (in the workshop, 4.8% of the Cuzco-Inka

decorated and undecorated sherds were wasters). However, since a large proportion of the

public serving assemblage was made of Cuzco-Inka pottery, I would expect that any

administrators and nobility overseeing Cheqoq were aware of the use of Inka goods. It

seems most likely that the goods were given in exchange for services and loyalty or as a

mark of belonging to a royal household.

The Area U workshop at Cheqoq did not produce Cuzco-Inka pottery solely for

consumption at the same site. As discussed previously, much of it probably left for use in

more elite contexts. Most of the jars left the site, while a larger proportion than expected

of the Cuzco-Inka serving vessels remained at Cheqoq.

Table 9.7. Percentage of Cuzco-Inka decorated and undecorated pottery that is made up of waster sherds

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Non Cuzco-Inka pottery

The ware type “unknown decorated” consisted of ceramics not published as

examples of early Inka (Killke and other LIP types), imperial Inka (Cuzco-Inka), and

Inka Local (e.g., Kendall 1994) pottery in the imperial heartland (fig. 9.3). Unfortunately,

any discussion of the relevance of the presence of this type is marred by issues of

classification.12

Perhaps the best way to demonstrate the diversity of this assemblage is by

showing the plurality of the paste types found with these sherds (table 9.8). Groupings of

certain paste types can be seen in association with particular domestic terraces. Of course,

one must remember that paste typologies are analyst-dependent and can appear more

diverse due to a tendency to “lump” rather than “split.”

This ware type was a catch-all for decorated pottery that did not resemble

Inka, Killke, or other known types. The material may come from outside the Cuzco

region or from local production of a non-local style, as pottery does not normally travel

long distances. A more in-depth study of this portion of the assemblage could be

completed in the future.

13

12 An in-depth study of Killke and local LIP pottery types from the Cuzco region is long overdue. Such an endeavor must include stylistic and technological attributes, especially raw material sourcing. To better understand the more exotic pottery types, continued ceramics research on the same features must come from Inka colonized regions, assessing pre-Inka and Inka contemporaneous local pottery types to provide a baseline. Paste studies will be particularly fruitful in helping to understand whether exotic styles were brought to the Cuzco region by migrants or if styles were rather imprinted onto local paste recipes.

Moreover, it is also important to

point out that the vessel forms of these unknown sherds were largely in the bowl, plate,

and cup categories, indicating they were mostly used in public display (table 9.9). Morris

13 See Appendix B for paste descriptions. To avoid interobserver error, I completed all the paste designations myself and used a comparative collection of pastes for referencing types.

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and his colleagues found a similar pattern of personal serving vessels corresponding to

more diverse decorative types in the Huánuco Pampa palace (2011).

Table 9.8. Paste types of “unknown decorated” sherds by household

Table 9.9. Vessel forms (those available) for the unknown decorated sherds in Inka domestic contexts

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Figure 9.3. Examples of unidentified decorated sherds from Area H

Some well-known non-Inka pottery types are documented in the Cuzco region.

Salazar considered those found in the Machu Picchu mortuary contexts as meaningful

goods brought by the site’s retainer populations from their home regions, such as the

Chimú area (2007). Some of the non-local pottery was even repaired during its use-life,

supporting the idea that it was a valuable object for expressing identity. At Wat’a,

Kosiba’s excavations in Inka period contexts recovered an unknown exotic pottery type

thought to be from the lowland regions (2010: 224). The additional presence of guayaba

seeds from the jungle region led Kosiba to argue for trade between the highlands and

lowlands. Some exotic goods, whether from home regions or not, were found at Cheqoq,

especially the seashell and a turquoise object described below. Jars and pots, especially,

would not have moved long distances into the heartland, as they are not practical for

transport (bowls and plates, which are stackable, are easier to carry). If we can eventually

identify the non-local pottery types at Cheqoq, we may be able to determine which

households brought decorated, high value ceramic goods from their home regions or if

they were locally produced and by whom.

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Other wealth goods and special contexts

A few other wealth or prestige objects were found in low frequencies. A turquoise

bead pendant was recovered on the floor of the smaller, rectangular structure in Area R

(fig. 9.4). The bead was probably worn as a pendant and may have been an object of

personal adornment. The raw material or the finished object likely came from the

southern reaches of the empire in northern Chile, where both turquoise and copper can be

found. There was no evidence of lapidary production identified at Cheqoq.

Another lithic object for personal adornment was a green schist pendant recovered

adjacent to the firing pit in Area U (fig. 9.5). The Yale Peabody Machu Picchu

collections included six of these same schist pendants, found together in the tomb of a

female (Salazar and Burger 2004: 162). The Cheqoq pendant may have been worn by a

ceramic specialist or may have been part of a possible offering near the firing area (recall

the shell goods described above that were recovered from the firing area itself).

Figure 9.4. Turquoise bead from the floor of a small rectangular structure in Area R

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Figure 9.5. Obverse and reverse of green schist pendant found in Area U firing pit

While there is no evidence for fancy lapidary production, perhaps mica was

worked for an unknown purpose at Cheqoq. At Potrero-Payogasta in the Calchaquí

Valley, researchers found large chunks of mica in production (Earle 1994). At Cheqoq,

we did not find any large pieces, but rather tiny flakes in the heavy fraction remains of

flotation samples from occupation floors. Three flakes came from the floor of the semi-

circular structure in Area H, two flakes from the floor of Area M’s rectangular structure,

and five flakes from four different contexts within and outside structures in Area Q. In

the Area U workshop, two flakes came from near the firing pit. The mica may have been

used in clay production (mica is a temper used in Cuzco-Inka pottery) or for working in

ways similar to that found in the Calchaquí Valley. Its presence was limited and the use is

unknown for now.

Area U’s workshop yielded much utilitarian worked bone related to ceramic

production stages. However, very little worked bone appeared in the domestic terraces

(fig. 9.6). Three objects related to textile production were found in the patio of Area N,

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including three fragments of two bone needles and one fragment of a bone awl.14

The

metal needle (alternatively interpreted as a tupu) from Area H described above may also

be related to textile production. Spindle whorls were not found at Cheqoq, however. If

textile production occurred within households, it may have involved materials already

spun elsewhere. Another worked bone object was found in Area R, on the floor of the

larger structure -- a camelid proximal first phalanx with a hollowed-out center. Its

function is unknown.

Figure 9.6. Worked bone objects. A) three fragments of two different bone needles from Area N patio (adjacent to outdoor hearth); b) broken bone awl from Area N patio; c) superior and posterior view of hollowed-out proximal phalanx from Area R larger structure.

14 The remains of textile production are scarce in relation to domestic contexts elsewhere in Cuzco (e.g., Pukara Pantillijlla [Alan Covey, personal communication 2012]).

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An offering cache in the floor of a three-sided structure in Area Q provides insight

into the relative status of a household and the ceremonial activities that occurred in the

domestic sphere. At Cusichaca, Kendall’s research identified similar votive offerings

located against front walls and inside re-modeled floors (and in one structure, in dividing

walls and platforms) (1994: 47). In Area Q, the offering was located below the floor of

the open structure, just at the limit between the structure and the patio.

During the Inka occupation, a round hole was dug that measured 30 cm in

diameter. Intruding 37 cm below the floor of the structure, the hole contained a complete,

undecorated (Cuzco Buff) narrow-mouth jar; small fragments of burned bone; ten small

Spondylus fragments; charred coca seeds, quinoa/kiwicha, maize kernels, and Fabaceae

seeds; and flakes of quartz in a matrix of soft, loose earth mixed with carbon and burnt

earth (table 9.10). The cache fits with ethnohistoric descriptions of such offerings made

to the earth, the sun, and other Inka deities. Betanzos, for example, described an offering

by Pachakutiq, in which he burned birds, maize, aqha, and other food and drink for the

sun (1996[1557]: Pt. 1, Ch. XI). The offering in Area Q was at least partially burned,

based on the presence of carbonized organic remains and burnt earth. Murúa also

described sacrifices that included Spondylus, birds, idols of gold and silver, small clothes

on fine idols, feathers, food and drink, seashell, coca, guinea pigs, and small figures made

of maize flour, animal fat, hair, and blood (1986[ca. 1590]: Bk. 2, Ch. XXVII; see also

Cobo 1990[1653]: Bk. I, Ch. 14, 22; Guaman Poma de Ayala 2001[1615-16]).

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Mullu or Spondylus was an essential element in making offerings, according to

many ethnohistoric sources. Blower described a plethora of chronicle references to

whole, crushed, and ground Spondylus used as offerings in waterways, below houses and

postholes, and buried for the gods (2001). Seashell is also associated with mountain and

ridgetop offerings (Reinhard 2005). Distance from the coast and the relative

socioeconomic status of the people residing at Cheqoq meant that they only had access to

tiny bits of Spondylus. Perhaps the scraps were pieces from shell craft production done

elsewhere (there is no sign of it taking place at Cheqoq). At Pedregal, in the Jequetepeque

Valley of the north coast of Peru, Cutright found offerings of whole Spondylus in Chimú

abandonment contexts (2009: 260). In Area Q at Cheqoq, based on stratigraphic

interpretations, the offering was made before occupation, as an informal compacted floor

lay above it without subsequent disturbance. These are two examples of the use of

seashell in offerings to domestic structures before and after use, with differences in

practice due to site location and temporal and cultural differences.

The inclusion of coca seeds in the offering in Area Q is also significant, as they

did not appear in all contexts at Cheqoq and coca would not have been cultivated at the

site. Several witnesses in the Toledan interviews in Yucay in 1571 stated that there were

few coca fields in the time of the Inka and that use of the leaf was restricted unless

provided to a non-elite by their noble patrons or administrators (Toledo 1940[1571]a).

However, the question posed to witnesses in those interviews was a leading one, asking

them to confirm whether or not coca was that rare and restricted (124-25). Thus, the

veracity of the informants’ statements is tenuous. However, as Covey points out (2006b:

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226-28), coca plots in and around the Yucay Valley were in the names of rulers and their

panaqa members, so there was at least at one point a sense of royal stewardship over

coca cultivation.

Table 9.10. Inventory of the macrobotanical contents (seeds) of offering cache in Area Q (Bertone 2011). These come from a sample of 27.5 liters of sediment, including all the contents outside (25 L) and inside (2.5 L) the narrow-mouth jar.

The complete narrow-mouth jar recovered in the offering was made of a common

Cuzco-Inka paste used in the Cheqoq workshop and described elsewhere for Inka pottery;

however, it was the type that has a slightly coarser temper size (Paste 51). Despite being

found just meters away from a Cuzco-Inka pottery workshop, the vessel was not painted,

was not fully polished on the surface, had fire clouding on the conical base, and seemed

altogether hastily produced (fig. 9.10). The nubbin that typically holds the tumpline on a

large narrow-mouth jar carried on one’s back had been attached to the vessel body after it

had already dried and the handles were attached crooked. Rather than an animal head

nubbin most typical of this Inka vessel type (fig. 9.11), the nubbin was merely a piece of

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pinched clay. Additionally, the size of the vessel was neither miniature, nor a large

storage vessel.

George Miller studied the dimensions of 69 whole narrow-mouth jars from the

archaeology museum of the Universidad Nacional del Cuzco (1987-89). With this sample

he demonstrated that there were two modes of vessel size for the narrow-mouth jar in

Cuzco (using whole vessels from the Museo Inka in Cuzco). Smaller serving vessels

ranged from 8 to 35 cm high, and larger storage vessels ranged from 62 to 95 cm high.15

The undecorated vessel from the Area Q offering measured 33 cm high, with an 11-cm

rim diameter. Its dimensions were within Miller’s smaller serving vessel mode.

Compared with narrow-mouth jars in other parts of Cheqoq, the jar was on the small side

of the range as well (figs. 9.7, 9.8; table 9.11). Considering all of the above, this vessel

was quickly produced for an offering, but was made the size of an aqha serving vessel. It

was placed in the floor of the structure, along with food items, quartz, and Spondylus,

which were burned before being buried.

15 Due to the highly standardized proportions of Inka narrow-mouth jars in the Cuzco region, one is able to estimate height with rim diameter data and vice versa (1987-89: 129).

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Figure 9.7. Box plots showing diameter (cm) distributions by domestic and production Area for Cuzco-Inka (decorated and undecorated) narrow-mouth jars. The rim diameter of the narrow-mouth jar in the Area Q offering cache was 11 cm.

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Table 9.11. Mean rim diameters by Area for Cuzco-Inka (decorated and undecorated) narrow-mouth jars

Figure 9.8. Confidence intervals (95%) for mean rim diameter of Cuzco-Inka (decorated and undecorated) narrow-mouth jars by Area

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Figure 9.9. Narrow-mouth jar found in offering cache of Area Q

Figure 9.10. Examples of figurative nubbins (top row and last two on bottom row) typically found on narrow-mouth jars

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Although the Spondylus fragments, narrow-mouth jar, and overall composition of

the offering were poor in comparison to the examples cited from places like the

Qorikancha (Tawantinsuyu’s main sun temple in the city of Cuzco [Bauer 2004: 139-57,

Rowe 1944]) or high-altitude ritual sites, the assemblage did include some luxury goods.

Furthermore, the very act of the offering may reflect on the status and position of Area

Q’s household within the settlement of Cheqoq.

Another special context that reflected on status and identity was the only intact

human burial from the Inka period that our excavations encountered (fig. 9.11).16 In Area

H, just beneath the floor of a patio kitchen, a 25- to 30-year old female was interred in a

flexed position, lying on her left side, facing south.17

The placement of the dead in a patio kitchen with modest goods should be

assessed with comparative contexts. It would be ideal to find more such burials at

There were no identifiable

pathological markers except minimal tooth wear and three dental caries. Few grave goods

were found with the woman. They included a small piece of unidentified seashell, four

pieces of carbonized muña stalk and six carbonized Solanum spp. seeds (Bertone 2011) --

perhaps potatoes – and a fragment of a local Cuzco-style (not Cuzco-Inka) decorated

bowl with a painted design on the interior. The bowl fragment was placed near the hip,

but may have been disturbed due to its position in the plowzone. One small Cuzco-Inka

body sherd was also associated with the burial.

16 We encountered isolated human teeth in various contexts. 17 Sex was determined by assessing sexually dimorphic cranial features (Acsádi and Nemeskéri 1970, Buikstra and Ubelaker 1994) and the remaining left os coxae (the other was lost in the plowzone) (Buikstra and Ubelaker 1994, Phenice 1969). Age was determined using the Todd and Suchey-Brooks pubic symphysis scoring systems (Buikstra and Ubelaker 1994). The skeleton was 95% complete and the osteological study of this burial was led by Sarah Kennedy.

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Cheqoq to determine how unique or common the mortuary treatment was. The type of

pottery found with the woman may be indicative of her status and identity. In this case, it

would be a local identity (though not closely associated with imperial iconography) and a

modest level of status. In contrast with the apparently good health of the individual in

Area H, the Machu Picchu burials revealed some more serious health problems among

the retainers (Verano 2003). These included tuberculosis and parasite infections, though

Burger has downplayed these findings as “generally good health” (2004). Again, a larger

sample from Cheqoq is necessary to be able to compare the health of the two likely

retainer populations.

Figure 9.11. Female burial in Area H, with associated Cuzco local bowl fragment

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Wealth economies at Cheqoq and in the royal estate: implications for socioeconomic relationships The data discussed here, in conjunction with data on pottery production in

Chapter 7, provide an overview of the fabrication and consumption of wealth and craft

goods at Cheqoq and by household. Some production activities may have occurred within

households, such as weaving (though not spinning) and metallurgy, which should be

examined in more detail through continued research at the site. The lack of evidence for

widespread textile fabrication is unusual, in that weaving tools are common in highland

prehispanic domestic excavations (e.g., Abraham 2010, Costin 1993, Kosiba 2010, Murra

1962, Sandefur 2001). The residents of Cheqoq did not produce all their own craft goods;

they were a part of a larger craft economy that brought materials from as far away as

Ecuador and Chile, likely through the Inka tribute economy linked into the royal estate

economy. In this configuration, wealth goods moved from state wealth finance to the

noble economy and finally into the households and workplaces of the retainers attached

to the nobility.

While Cheqoq’s retainers produced elite goods, they were permitted consumption

of some of those products as well. This contrasts with the evidence from the Inka

provincial site of Potrero-Payogasta, where more wealth production occurred relative to

same-site consumption of the finished goods (Earle 1994). At Cheqoq, on the other hand,

some wealth goods were both produced and consumed in one place, whether due to

laborers who took production waste into the home or due to noble patronage. For the

Inka, there was not strict inalienability placed on all wealth goods, as some were widely

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distributed among a variety of household types, which archaeologists found at Cheqoq

and other domestic sites.

For now, we cannot assess identity beyond the relative fidelity to Inka material

culture in the household assemblage. A more comprehensive approach to identity should

be possible through studies of cuisine, house type, pottery type, and so on, but more than

just the six excavated households at Cheqoq are needed to do this in a systematic manner.

When a larger sample of Cheqoq domestic terraces has been excavated, it may be fruitful

to employ cluster analysis and discriminant analysis of multiple artifact types to try to

determine if there are patterns grouping households according to identity and/or status.

The analysis may not reveal specific identities, but would help in formulating a better

understanding of the homogeneity or heterogeneity of a newly constituted multi-ethnic

community. We should be able to approach differences in identity but perhaps not the

underlying processes of those differences, since identities are multiple and changing

within an individual, and especially within a household (Conlin and Fowler 2004,

Janusek 1999).

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Tab

le 9

.12.

Wea

lth a

nd c

raft

good

s by

terr

ace

329

Status and labor hierarchies are beginning to emerge in relative terms among the

domestic assemblages on the whole (table 9.12). The daily lives of pottery specialists,

storage administrators, and other households can be seen through domestic assemblages

and through the wealth goods found in their workplaces (the workshop). At Xauxa,

within the Inka provincial political economy (Owen 2001, Earle and Smith 2012), state

agents distributed wealth down through the ranks and into households for reciprocal and

coercive reasons. On the Inka estate, within the noble economy, wealth goods may have

moved into Cheqoq households as gifts from estate nobility to subordinates and

intermediary administrators. The proximity to the production of imperial style goods

(food and pottery) and the detached and indirect nature of noble oversight of production

(from Yucay perhaps) further allowed Cheqoq residents to bring Inka goods into the

domestic economy. The exotic goods such as shell and turquoise were especially unlikely

to be acquired without involvement from the panaqa. It is possible that those small,

symbolic and display objects were brought from home at the point of migration, however.

There is evidence for at least one intermediate elite serving as an administrator at

Cheqoq, based on the domestic architecture and artifact assemblage in Area Q. Area Q

yielded 88% serving wares (comparing serving and cooking vessels). Area N had 94%

and a higher serving vessel index (Chapter 8), but both were high percentages compared

to other domestic terraces. In addition to the high frequency of serving wares, Area Q

was the site of a high percentage of Cuzco-Inka pottery, a rich offering that included

coca, maize, quartz, and Spondylus, and yielded no production debris within its Area.

Area Q is a good candidate for a possible administrator household.

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On the other side of the spectrum, good candidates for lower degrees of

assimilation to Inka identity were Areas H and M. Not only did Area H have a human

burial in a form not common to the Cuzco-Inka pattern, but there was statistically more

non-Inka decorated pottery found there. The Area H domestic structure was a form not

common to the Inka imperial period and, in Chapter 8, we found that there were more

food preparation tools there than elsewhere. Area M also revealed more tools for food

preparation than other Areas. Contrary to expectations for a lower status household,

however, Area M had maize and muña in its assemblage, while Area H had maize, muña,

and coca. Fidelity to Inka material culture and economic status do not coincide in any

clear way and markers of elevated status are found mixed among households. The

following chapter discusses how best to understand the Cheqoq households in the context

of the Inka royal estate economy and society and offers some explanations for the

differences and similarities we found in overall household and production assemblages at

Cheqoq.

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Chapter 10

THE INKA ROYAL ESTATE: CHEQOQ HOUSEHOLDS

AND IMPERIAL DEVELOPMENT

By excavating within a special residential, surplus storage, and pottery production

facility of the emperor Wayna Qhapaq’s estate, this dissertation evaluated domestic

economy and the intrasite relative status and identity (Inka or otherwise) of the

inhabitants of the settlement of Cheqoq. Domestic and site economy revealed information

on the interaction of the estate economy and state political economy and where they

intersect in the heartland, while demonstrating how economic production affected local

populations and re-settled populations around the Cuzco region. Through excavation of

the first securely identified Inka polychrome pottery workshop, I assessed the production

of imperial style pottery on the estate, its organization and technology, and the identity of

the producers. This work provides a baseline for modeling the production and distribution

of imperial style pottery, from which emerges an understanding of the greater craft

economy of the Cuzco region.

New information on the Inka empire is presented from two scales of analysis: the

household and the royal estate. As the first excavation of a non-palace estate settlement

within an established regional archaeological and ethnohistorical framework, the Cheqoq

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project yields unprecedented results from new perspectives. Scholars of the Inka and

other empires can expand on our understanding of the producers laboring in heartlands to

create wealth for the nobility and the state. These findings can be extrapolated to model

the impacts of factionalism in the imperial consolidation of a heartland.

I argue that this rural Cuzco community of laborers and administrators attached to

the royal estate expressed a level of social and economic status similar to that seen in the

provinces, with household- and site-level specialization of production activities and a

modest level of socioeconomic hierarchies evident in consumption assemblages.

Residents of Cheqoq, though at least partially re-settled from a variety of provinces, were

in a process of assimilation to Cuzco-Inka identity as part of the estate. Retainers and

their intermediate elite supervisors contributed to the economic development and

integration of the imperial heartland; their contributions can be seen at Cheqoq through

production of imperial style Inka pottery, management of surplus storage, and self-

sufficient production of subsistence goods. CHAP provides data on the domestic

economy and labor activities of those retainers, providing insight into social status, the

adoption of Inka practices into the domestic sphere, and the manner in which wealth was

acquired by non-elites. The development of a noble economy in the elite-dominated

heartland contributed to a larger political economy mobilizing labor and goods on behalf

of state – and thus, noble – interests.

This project set out to explore two main research themes: 1) the status and identity

of estate laborers and administrators at Cheqoq and their participation in the estate

economy and 2) the nature of wealth and craft production at Cheqoq and the role that

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production played in promoting the estate economy and panaqa interests relative to state

administrative institutions. We found that subsistence production was organized at the

community level and resulted in equal intrasite distribution of some staple goods. Craft

production was de-centralized in the Cuzco region, and was overseen by the panaqa and

their intermediaries in some loci (or at least at one locus -- Cheqoq). The secure

identification of a pottery production locus at the site allowed us to falsify the second

hypothesis of the project: that any production of craft goods at Cheqoq occurred within

elite contexts (public or residential) rather than special production facilities.

Results from the household excavations demonstrate that the first hypothesis of

the project was also falsified: there was a residential sector at Cheqoq but it was not

primarily occupied by elites. Rather, the elite pottery on the surface of the site resulted

from proximity to a Cuzco-Inka pottery workshop and the households analyzed by CHAP

revealed a variety of status markers not consistent with elites within an empire. Craft

products were consumed in non-elite, non-political settings due to the proximity to

production and/or partially elevated status. Uneven markers of the status continuum in

the excavated Cheqoq households was evident, indicating a complex and changing scene

of identities constituted through social and economic differences among estate laborer

and administrator households.

Site formation and sampling challenges of the dataset

We excavated a total of 252 m2 within a site that covers 22 ha (0.1% sample of

the surface). Six domestic terraces were studied intensively, with a few others represented

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by small test units that were not discussed in detail in the dissertation. We carefully

uncovered a storehouse to collect bulk sediment samples for flotation. This enabled us to

reconstruct the storage economy in a preliminary fashion. Finally, we exposed 65% of the

surface area of a specialized Cuzco-Inka pottery workshop that served the estate as one

locus in a decentralized craft economy. With the systematic analysis of all artifact types,

we were able to make some initial statements about the organization of an estate

economic installation: a settlement dedicated to producing goods for the royal estate.

However, there were limitations to the study, especially with site taphonomy and

preservation and the divergent sample sizes between domestic terraces.

Because of the lack of surface architecture at Cheqoq and our inability to conduct

geophysical survey prior to excavation, CHAP was forced to search for residential

precincts using trenches and test pits. The Xaquixaguana Plain Archaeological Survey

provided valuable surface collection data to ascertain the function and nature of different

sectors of the site (Covey and Yépez 2004), although we could not pinpoint specific

locations for subsurface structures. Due to the limits of funding, time, weather, local

politics, and national permitting processes, we were unable to excavate uniform

extensions in each Area. The smallest domestic excavation was Area G with 14 m2, while

the largest extensions were Areas H and Q with 41 m2. Because of these sample size

differences, the larger areas occasionally yielded more diverse assemblages of rare items

(such as luxury fauna and flora) and more cases of special contexts (such as a human

burial and a rich sub-floor offering). Additionally, the overall number of household units

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was low and did not permit multivariate quantitative analyses, a set of tools that would be

useful in reconstructing social and labor hierarchies at Cheqoq with more confidence.

Archaeologists have called for more excavations in the exterior areas of houses,

where rich artifact assemblages may be recovered (Robin 2002, Robin and Rothschild

2002). Different activities would occur in exterior versus interior spaces, such as weaving

or serving food to members of other households. At Cheqoq we excavated exterior spaces

of structures in Area N, and interior and exterior spaces in other domestic areas. Area N

thus presents the potential for bias, since different sets of activities took place inside and

outside houses. As discussed below, Area N had significantly more evidence for serving

activities and Cuzco-Inka polychrome pottery, and little evidence for food processing.

Area N’s apparently higher status and greater levels of Inka artifacts have the potential to

mislead due to these differences in sampling.

While some of the contexts at Cheqoq were well below the surface, a few areas

fell within the modern plowzone. In Area N, especially, the shallowness of the Inka

occupation meant that artifacts were found in mixed contexts in some loci. However, as

Steinberg found in his actualistic study (1996), the methods employed in this dissertation

were still valid where plowzone sampling was necessary. Steinberg found that artifacts

may move up to 5 to 15 m in a field, though he noted that some claim they will move as

little as 1 to 2 m. Large-scale site patterns are not significantly changed by plowzone

mixing. The methodology used here, in which domestic loci were analyzed by terraces

(assumed to represent households due to their organization and spatial layout, as well as

cultural context), tempered any potential taphonomic issues with plowzone mixing.

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Because Cheqoq rests on the slopes of two hills, certain sections of the site are more

susceptible to erosion activity. Some parts of the site rest under overburden, but those

effects were mitigated by separating colluvium from occupational fill in the analyses.

Production and consumption economies in Cheqoq households: status and identity

Top-down changes at the household level that resulted from imperial interruption

of local economies can be seen diachronically in Inka sites such as Mantaro (D’Altroy

and Hastorf 2001) and Wat’a (Kosiba 2010), with varying degrees of favorable or

unfavorable changes within certain sectors of the population. At Wat’a, Kosiba described

a scenario in which a dramatic and destructive ritual event erased some parts of the site

before the Inka built parts of the site again. He described this as an imperial strategy of

“ritual emplacement” that served to refashion the worldview of local populations to

accommodate Inka dominance.

Cheqoq represents a very different strategy of incorporation and consolidation.

Whereas the same households remained after Inka incorporation at Wat’a, Cheqoq’s

residences were constructed higher up the hill and the site was expanded with the

introduction of a new multi-ethnic population. There is no evidence for ritual destruction

at Cheqoq. Rather, the Inka promoted the growth and intensification of existing

resources and the addition of new facilities. The new population appears to have fared

well, with access to basic subsistence goods and some luxury and rare items that tied

them to the imperial heartland and permitted some maintenance of non-Inka identities. If

there was a cost to the domestic economies of Cheqoq’s new residents, then those could

337

be detected through comparison with typical provincial economic patterns. Retainers and

other non-nobles appeared to enjoy household goods of the same intermediate level as

many of the commoner tributaries in known provincial households overall, with the key

exception of the high density of imperial style pottery.

While Cheqoq’s status as a producer enclave meant that some households had

access to symbolic and prestige goods, these goods were not evenly distributed across the

settlement. Access must have been determined by the generosity and reciprocity of the

sponsoring nobility in a direct fashion or via internal social organization at the site. In the

latter scenario, internal social and labor hierarchies would have dictated that the most

important residents receive the best assemblages of Inka decorated wares. We already

know that the products of Cheqoq were not completely alienated from their producers,

but neither did the producers have uninhibited access to the imperial pottery, or other

valuable goods such as metals or coca leaf. If the second scenario guided household

assemblage development – internal dictation of prestige and wealth goods distribution –

then we should find clear hierarchies from one household to the next. These hierarchies

should also correspond to labor and management relationships in a clear way, in which

administrator households yield little material evidence of production and much evidence

for high-status and Inka goods and practices. If, however, the first scenario is more

influential in guiding household assemblage makeup – noble generosity and reciprocity --

then we should find a varied distribution of household wealth goods. Along with that

variability, there should not be clear linkages between household wealth and labor status.

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Neither scenario entirely describes the sample of households we studied at

Cheqoq. Some households do show clear signs of elite status or fidelity to Inka practices

and materialization. There probably was occasional top-down directive for distributing

meaningful and valuable goods, but the site’s residents probably ordered their own

internal hierarchies as well. In addition to these two processes, unsanctioned and

infrequent activities, such as “toting” from the workshop, contributed to household

assemblages as well. With our sample of six horizontally excavated households, and the

contextual information from workshop and storehouse excavations, I will review where

we do find clear overall patterns from one household to the next and where we do not.

In general, the Cheqoq households studied had equal access to camelid meat,

regardless of the animal’s age or the cut of meat. There was variability in access to non-

domesticated animals, and some household apparently engaged in hunting activities to

supplement their diets. However, the tools for hunting and the consumption of wild fauna

did not always coincide at the household level. Perhaps some households gave meat to

others or the panaqa provided it to attached retainers in exchange for cooperation.

Maize had a restricted distribution, as did coca, though they did not strictly

coincide either. Different processes – in addition to the taphonomic ones already

discussed – may have contributed to the differential distribution of these two goods with

high intrinsic value. Maize was stored in the Cuzco storage complex, which was not

available to all households. However, all households process and consumed quinoa or

kiwicha, which could be cultivated locally in Maras.

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Metal goods, especially adornments, were not identified in all households. Only a

few lapidary objects linked to self-expression – a turquoise bead and a schist pendant –

were found. Again, the presence of metal goods, whether utilitarian or decorative, did not

correspond to the distribution of the exotic turquoise bead or other non-local goods.

Marine shell also had an irregular distribution. These patterns, contextualized by the

evidence for production, allow us to reconstruct preliminary patterns reflecting on labor

and internal social hierarchies present at Cheqoq.

The data discussed here provide a baseline of material expectations for identifying

different types of households in permanent retainer communities. With those expectations

applied to a set of households, we can then examine how imperial development and

factionalism impacted different kinds of households. Those impacts are not characterized

by oppression or extreme social mobility. Rather, retainers’ status, as seen through

household assemblages, was akin to the range of commoners and some elites in Inka

provinces.

Area G was among the smaller of the Areas opened to analyze a household. We

found one structure and exposed it partially. Area G revealed an irregular rectangular

structure, with a large boulder making up the back wall. It was the domestic context

nearest the storehouse sector and furthest northeast of all the studied Inka household

complexes. Its proximity to the storage complex may indicate that household member(s)

participated in administering storage. In Area G, we found one seashell and one

agricultural tool, as well as significantly more serving vessels and likely aqha-related

340

vessels. This household may have been involved in brewing, storing, or serving maize

beer, cultivating in nearby fields, and possibly managing storehouses.

In Area H, we found a variety of domestic contexts. These included a patio with a

human burial, evidence for food preparation, a midden, and possible metallurgical waste,

as well as a semi-circular structure made partially of ashlars (with an interior area of 4.7

m2). Within the floors of the patio and structure, we identified at least one projectile point

(for hunting?) and the greatest mass per square-meter of food processing tools in any

household. The Area also yielded metal goods and seashell, rare and high-status botanical

remains (coca, maize, and muña), and a higher proportion of cooking than serving

vessels. Area H is just another example of the conflicting evidence found within these

households. While household residents seem to have engaged in more food production

than consumption of fancy goods, Area H also yielded valuable organic and wealth items

that would otherwise indicate elevated status.

Area M was found to be a rectangular structure of unknown dimensions (partially

exposed) with a paved area and small rectangular feature of unknown function that was

filled with unidentifiable decorated pottery. It yielded evidence for hunting, including

wild fauna in greater numbers than elsewhere. This household also had a higher density

of grinding stones for food processing, as well as remains of maize and muña. The luxury

fauna and flora were complemented by the presence of marine shell and some metal

(though the metals were utilitarian). Area M’s assemblage resembled that found in Area

H, in which both markers of high status and non-elite status were found. Area M

produced its own food but also brought unusual meat sources into the domestic area for

341

consumption. These goods were probably hunted and acquired independently, as Area M

does not present evidence for status as an administrator household where we might see

tribute or gifting of such goods from below or above.

As previously discussed, Area N presented some sampling challenges, as no

interior spaces were excavated. The structures relating to the Area N patio are probably

located beneath the piles of stones presently surrounding the field in which we excavated.

In the future, these could be removed in order to expand the excavations to the interior of

the household. Located between Areas M and Q, Area N presented an assemblage more

akin to that of Area Q. We found one hearth associated with the only weaving tools

identified in the Inka period. Additionally, there was coca, rare fauna, and a broken metal

tupu (the only definite tupu and just one of two personal adornment items found in

household excavations). The pottery assemblage consisted of significantly more serving

vessels and more Cuzco-Inka decorated serving vessels than in other Areas. The faunal

assemblage revealed more burnt and highly processed bones than other households and

grinding stones were less frequent. Area N seems like a good candidate to be on the more

elite end of the status spectrum at Cheqoq and was more closely associated with Inka

material culture, especially pottery. However, the difference in sampled loci makes

drawing conclusions problematic for now.

Area Q, on the other hand, does appear to be a good candidate for an

administrator household. Two structures were identified in a patio group arrangement

(Gasparini and Margolies 1980). The smaller structure had four walls, a prepared white

clay floor, and 11.75 m2 of area. The second was larger, with three walls (including

342

ashlars in the northwest corner), and 66 m2 of interior space. Within this larger, open

structure, a sub-floor ritual offering contained an undecorated narrow-mouth jar, burnt

organics, Spondylus fragments, quartz flakes, and burnt earth. We sampled both interior

and exterior spaces in Area Q, which revealed lead scraps, significantly more Cuzco-Inka

vessels and serving vessels than other households, unusual fauna and flora, a clodbreaker,

a slingstone, and more density of butchery tools than elsewhere. Like Areas H and M,

Area Q presents evidence for non-elite food preparation activities, but also more elite and

Inka-associated serving and consumption activities at the same time.

Together, with the location of this terrace, its architectural layout and scale, and

the unique offering cache, Area Q appears to represent the remains of a nuclear family

with one or more household members serving in a supervisory or administrative role at

Cheqoq. As discussed above, the decorated pottery types in Area Q were highest for

Cuzco-Inka and non-Inka (unidentified) styles, pointing to an expression of both Inka and

non-Inka identities. This contradiction reflects the pluralistic nature of identity on a

heartland estate. Perhaps the family in Area Q is an example of a yana or other laborer

elevated to a higher status in service to the nobility. It may also represent a native Maras

family that was part of the estate and used pottery from before Inka incorporation of

Maras. Sixteenth-century witnesses claimed that some elites from Maras had been made

into tribute-exempt households serving Wayna Qhapaq in his fields, by way of being

related to the Inka origin story and Maras Toq’o (ADC. Intendencia, Gobierno. Leg. 144.

1791-1792; see also Urton 1990). Perhaps some of the non-Inka pottery in Area Q was

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Ayarmaka pottery brought from a previous settlement when the household began to serve

as attached retainers to Wayna Qhapaq.1

There is a notable contradiction in the material remains of Area Q. The sub-floor

offering contained a variety of charred plant remains, Spondylus fragments, and a small

Inka narrow-mouth jar. However, that jar was not decorated and it was executed in a poor

quality relative to the Cuzco-Inka vessels produced and consumed at Cheqoq. While few

households had access to a range of macrobotanical goods, Area Q’s offering presented

quinoa and kiwicha, possible beans, maize, and coca. However, while all households

contained some Cuzco-Inka pottery likely produced at the site, the pot offered below the

floor in this Area was of a much poorer quality, as if hastily made. If households were

allowed to take pottery into their domestic areas for quotidian use, why were those

ceramics not available for ritual use? Was the narrow-mouth jar fabricated prior to the

establishment of a pottery specialist class or prior to the complete elaboration of the

workshop and its facilities? Was the vessel made very quickly to satisfy some household

or community need? Or were most (or all) of the Cuzco-Inka vessels in household refuse

products of failed fabrication in the workshop? Area Q’s offering provides us with some

uncertainty regarding the significance of imperial decorated pottery in domestic settings

among laborer and administrator households.

Finally, Area R represents a small sample similar to Area G, although we did

identify two structures on that terrace. The smaller structure excavated in 2009 measured

just 1.6 m2 and the larger structure was of an unknown size. The former may be just one

1 Archaeologists do not yet have a clear idea of what constitutes Ayarmaka pottery, however.

344

section of a larger, now-destroyed building, as the immediate area around it was highly

eroded. This structure had a prepared white clay floor similar to the floor in Area Q,

while the larger structure did not. The small structure also yielded a turquoise bead and

fine Cuzco-Inka, Inka-related, and non-Inka decorated pottery. The larger structure

yielded similar pottery as well as evidence for agricultural activities and hunting, and a

copper object. Like Area G, Area R’s assemblage may be too limited to assess the

function of the household on that terrace.

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Tab

le 1

0.1.

Hou

seho

ld-b

y-ho

useh

old

com

paris

on o

f arti

fact

ass

embl

ages

346

Overall, each household presents evidence for multiple types of activities without

clear correspondence to laborer or administrator (table 10.1). Furthermore, it is not

possible at this point to determine which households were engaged in which type of

labor, whether overseeing storage, fabricating pottery, or serving as support staff for the

estate in some other way.

In some cases, anomalous items in these household assemblages deserve further

explanation. Goods such as unusual turquoise beads or viscacha remains may have come

from the panaqa, if they sent fancy items to their economic installation at Cheqoq.

Alternatively, they may have been acquired by Cheqoq residents in some other

unsanctioned way or they may have been brought from home provinces. If the latter is the

case, then households of a non-elite status made consumption decisions that required

extra effort on their part. Not only did they live on the goods produced by all households,

but they also made choices to procure more goods, embodying identity and status through

foodways (Dietler 2007).

The fact that production waste from the imperial style pottery workshop made its

way into the households we studied indicates illicit, sanctioned, or implicitly allowed

“toting” into non-noble residential settings. Cuzco-Inka pottery is usually associated with

either administrative, state-sponsored ritual, state-sponsored public events, or elite

domestic spaces. Here, we find it in high percentages in a variety of domestic areas and

with evidence that some of it arrived there as production cast-offs. While the Inka state

has been seen through household archaeology in the provinces as exercising effective

347

economic control (e.g., Costin and Earle 1989), Cheqoq shows that not all estates

implemented strict wealth goods control at the household level.

Beyond production and consumption analyses, we can occasionally get a glimpse

into the daily lives of individuals at Cheqoq and the leisurely life of Cheqoq residents. In

a patio near the storehouses and in the pottery workshop, we found game pieces similar to

those seen at other Inka sites. A “die” with one, two, three, and four notches on each side

and an “x” on top was found in excavation of an open space near the storehouses (fig.

10.1). This item is similar to the orange clay accounting or game pieces found at Machu

Picchu (Salazar and Burger 2004: 155-56). The Cheqoq object was made of the classic

Cuzco-Inka paste. These sorts of games were described by Cobo (1990[1653]: 243).

A cut and notched astragalus was found on the floor of the pottery workshop in

Area U (fig. 10.2). It resembles a piece called watoq in Quechua that is also known as

“taba” and “knucklebone” (Miller 1979: 80). This game reportedly originated in the Old

World, so the piece may have resulted from the continued colonial period occupation of

Cheqoq (and continued use of the workshop).

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Figure 10.1. Superior and lateral views of one ceramic game piece found in Area A near the storehouses

Figure 10.2. Two side views of astragalus game piece found in Area U workshop

Personal adornments provide additional insights into individuals as opposed to

households and nuclear families. Tupus, beads, and pendants help us to reconstruct

personal identity in some cases, but these remains were not abundant. Evidence for child-

rearing and children also is rare, although we did find a possible child’s toy in Area M.

The object was a fired zoomorphic figurine made of adobe tempered with local rhyolite

(fig. 10.3).

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Figure 10.3. Two sides of an adobe figurine found in Area M

These few cases of visualizing individuals or daily leisure activities do not

presently add any new elements to the reconstruction of estate organization, however. As

laid out in earlier chapters, we should expect to find evidence for consumption of more

valuable, rare, and Inka-associated goods in high status households, and subsistence-level

production with attenuated and low-status items in lower status households. However,

Cheqoq shows that there were no clear correlates to status or identity in domestic

contexts within a pluralistic estate settlement. Instead, the special status of yana and the

presence of a labor hierarchy attached to the panaqa appears to have created a group of

people that enjoyed an elevated status and occupation vis-à-vis their affiliation with the

nobility that was not homogeneously materialized.

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In assessing provincial household economies, the Mantaro project determined that

there was a flattening of status markers in consumption in the Inka period. Wealth goods

were available to a broader population to make up for increased tribute demands

(D’Altroy and Hastorf 2001, Earle and Smith 2012). While they did not function within

the same provincial tributary organization, Cheqoq households did not differ much from

the consumption assemblages found among Mantaro’s Inka period households.

Tributaries serving as retainers to the nobility in the heartland practiced daily

consumption patterns similar to those of provincial populations. The household-level

changes (and continuities) under Inka rule did not vary much from tributaries to retainers.

However, what the CHAP research can contribute is a new understanding of the internal

status and identity differentiations by household and the production contribution made in

turn by the consuming households.

The Abancay state farm (or panaqa lands, as the ownership of resources there is

still unclear in the archival documents) may provide clues for the Cheqoq case. There,

16th-century testimony revealed that kurakas headed each ayllu that worked the Abancay

lands and did not do any manual labor themselves. The mitmaqkuna working below the

kurakas produced for the Inka while they oversaw production, storage, and distribution of

the Abancay products. Kurakas also received gifts such as ají, coca, and firewood from

the Inka for their service (Espinoza 1973: 245-46).

Archaeologically, we would not expect those administrators to have tools for

extramural production in their domestic spheres. However, they and their household

members probably did produce their own food within the house at least. If they did, we

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should find grinding stones, charred macrobotanicals, and perhaps butchery tools, but

should not encounter tools used for subsistence production outside the household.

It is important to keep in mind that determining scales of wealth (and thus relative

status and position within labor hierarchies) at Cheqoq is difficult due to the scale of

analysis chosen. By looking at domestic terraces on the whole, we obscure the differing

statuses and positions of each household member (Cowgill et al. 1984). The mixed

material correlates may be a product of the fact that within most households, one or more

members participated in different production and consumption activities consequent to

their individual status, occupation, and identity.

State and estate economies in the heartland

La Lone previously stated that the Inka economy was an inchoate form of the

core-periphery hierarchy within a world-systems perspective (1994; sensu Chase-Dunn

and Hall 1991). He argued that the empire had seen an incomplete transformation of the

central Andes from kin-based to tribute-based economy. La Lone pointed out that the

elite tried to maintain kinship models of production in the heartland through the estate,

which prevented the economy from fully developing as a core-periphery system. What

this analysis overlooked is that the development of the noble, faction-based economy in

the heartland was the driver of continued Inka consolidation in the provinces. Though the

estate economy may not have contributed directly to state coffers, it did promote the

interests of noble factions, who in turn contributed to the state project. The heartland and

its intensification of agropastoral resources, control over wealth production (e.g., coca

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lands claimed by panaqa members, polychrome pottery produced for the palaces), and

injection of newly settled retainer communities, was the center of imperial growth.

Together, the state-directed economy that characterized the provinces worked with the

heartland estate economy in the later iteration of Inka development.

As Covey has pointed out, the estate system helped to convert the staple economy

into a wealth economy (2006b). Productive agricultural resources could be garnered for

surplus crops for heartland, as well as provide subsistence resources to a wealth good-

producing population, as at Cheqoq. At the same time, wealth goods traveled from the

provinces into the heartland region, being redistributed by the nobility, while helping to

promote cooperation between intermediate and lower status retainers working on behalf

of the panaqa. The noble economy was not just a stand-in for the political economy in

the region and palace complexes did not merely take the place that administrative centers

served in the provinces as the locus of tribute. Rather, the Cuzco nobility solved the

problem of financing political and economic interests in the heartland by bringing in new

subordinate populations and providing them with lands, herds, and the means by which to

elevate their standard of living.

At the household level, life as a perpetual estate servant was materially better than

life as a provincial tributary in some ways. For example, retainers had access to imperial

style serving assemblages within the domestic context. In other ways, retainers and their

administrators may have had access to fewer goods, as illustrated by the relative lack of

metal objects in heartland versus provincial households. Retainers also seem to have

produced more than they consumed, as they were largely self-sufficient by way of

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subsistence consumption and produced more wealth goods than were recovered in their

households. Furthermore, contrary to Rowe’s assertion that retainer status served to

integrate the empire culturally (1982), Cheqoq shows that perhaps a non-Inka identity

was maintained in some households after re-settlement in Maras. These competing

identities of Inka and non-Inka may betray the fact that the process of assimilation to Inka

cultural identity was still in progress at Cheqoq.

According to colonial narratives, Wayna Qhapaq’s estate was constructed out of

unused and wild spaces (Covey 2011). However, the process of estate development was

more dynamic than that. In Maras, we found that Ayarmaka storage structures were the

foundation on which the Inka created a larger and more complex site for storing goods to

finance the regional economy. The preliminary architectural and ceramic data from

nearby Machuqollqa indicate the same occurred there. While the Inka may have created

new maize-producing lands and re-settled thousands of laborers into the valley to serve

the estate, they also adapted less elaborate local institutions that remained from the

Ayarmaka polity. Archaeological excavation allows us to see the continuities and

discontinuities in local economies that are missing from the ethnohistory, as the empire

entered its final stage of development with the later royal estates.

State political economies develop with the continuation of factional economies

and local kin-based economies. However, a successful imperial project does not rely

upon the full transition into tribute-based, bureaucratic, state-controlled production. The

Inka royal estate is a good example of how states can allow factional interests to continue

in a way that is not disruptive to the state, but rather supports it. The Inka imperial

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heartland underwent a constant process of negotiating the public and the private, with

some groups benefitting more or less from the process. Re-settled permanent laborers and

others at Cheqoq demonstrate the impacts on livelihood and social identity. With

continued household-level research, we should be able to determine to what extent these

groups maintained social ties to their home region, while they survived the transition by

creating new ties to the Cuzco region through panaqa attachment.

Andean archaeologists have often looked at Andean state development as an

exceptional case, rather than studying polities comparatively with other regions of the

world (cf. Covey 2006b). Drennan argued that comparison for comparison’s sake is not

the goal, but rather we must seek to understand the underlying processes of human

behavior (2010; see also Smith 2012). Empires are particularly successful at garnering

labor power through subordinate populations, but archaeologists have been less

successful at systematically analyzing the real effects on re-settled and coerced laborer

populations.

By applying this holistic treatment of site and household production and

consumption to other Inka sites and imperial settlements globally, we can build databases

for examining the household and local impacts of imperial growth. The level of detail

reached in studying plantation slave households in the United States (e.g., Ferguson

1992; Singleton 1985, 1995) is a good example of the direction we should take in

assessing states and empires through their constituent households. There are not many

clear-cut archaeological comparisons in other pre-capitalist empires with which to

compare the Cheqoq results for now. Other empires that had relied upon landed estates

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and subordinate populations are lagging behind in efforts to study subordinates’

households (e.g., ancient Rome; see Webster 2008a).2 As Webster argued, archaeological

identification of perpetual servants is problematic because their household assemblages

are not fully contrasted with their patrons’ or owners’ houses (2008b). In empires where

there are estates and estate laborers comparable to the Inka yanakuna, archaeologists

have found difficulty in separating the estate tenants from regular tributary households

(e.g., the Aztec mayeque; see Brumfiel 1991, Carrasco 1989).3

On the larger regional scale, we also want to know how separate the organization

and function of the estate and the imperial political economy were in Cuzco, if at all.

Identification of an imperial style pottery workshop is the first step to reconstructing

these relationships, as it indicates a lack of interconnectedness and integration in at least

one sphere of craft production. Functions of the state economy were replicated on the

estate, suggesting separation in at least some aspects of the staple and wealth economies.

Future provenance studies on pottery and comparisons with estate and state settlements in

the Cuzco region will provide insight into how production and distribution were

organized and how unusual the widespread and dense use of the ceramics among Cheqoq

households was (though it seems unusual for now, based on Covey’s survey results). The

Once archaeologists can

complement the historical record among these empires, we can begin to assess the

damage or benefits made to subordinates in the domestic sphere as a result of the imperial

project.

2 There is also the challenge of finding the appropriate way to anthropologically compare forms of retainership and slavery once they are identified archaeologically (e.g., chattel versus communal servitude would have divergent effects on households). 3 Dal Lago and Katsari recently edited a comparative volume approaching unfree labor cross-culturally from a historical perspective (2008).

356

yana institution was practiced elsewhere through state farms and production enclaves

outside Cuzco, but we do not know the effects on households in those sites apart from the

archival record. If we can compare status and identity in state-directed pluralistic

communities of retainers and labor colonists, we can see how the effects of factionalism

may have differed from the effects of state resettlement.

For the time being, Cheqoq provides a baseline and a model for how to excavate

subordinate households in a way that approaches these larger questions of imperial

development and factional and noble economies. This project presents the first

household-based approach to the royal estate system and finally gets a glimpse at the

estate beyond the palace walls. While the implications of differences and similarities

between Cheqoq household complexes are not yet secure, there are promising leads for

investigating the production and consumption practices of retainers and their

administrators as it might reflect upon the organization of the imperial heartland.

Continued horizontal excavations at Cheqoq and similar sites will ensure the ongoing

exploration of factional contributions to imperial economies and the subsequent impacts

on constituent households. The data on technology, organization, and distribution from

the Cheqoq pottery workshop provide a valuable line of evidence for reconstructing the

de-centralized craft economy of the Cuzco region and the use of Cuzco-Inka pottery as

political and social tools for promoting imperial order and the position of noble lineages.

357

Appendix A

QUECHUA AND SPANISH GLOSSARY AND ORTHOGRAPHY

At times, it was necessary or preferable to use Quechua (Q.) or Spanish (Sp.) terms for certain concepts in the text. For Quechua terms, I tried to maintain a three-vowel orthography following the study of agrarian Quechua by Ballón and colleagues (1992). Exceptions were made for common spellings of proper nouns so as to avoid confusion and the case of some terms for which a certain spelling has been widely accepted (e.g., cuy). I chose to use the Quechua ending for plural Quechua nouns (“-kuna,” as in “mitmaqkuna”).

ají (Sp.) (Capsicum spp.) Caribe word for chile pepper. Called uchu in Quechua. (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 349). altiplano (Sp.) High plain. aqha (Q.) Called chicha today and by Spaniards, deriving from the Caribe word. A fermented maize beverage (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 18). aqlla (Q.) “Chosen women” (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 15). Young women who are trained in aqha brewing, food preparation, weaving and other services to the Sun temple (Gose 2000). aqllawasi (Q.) -wasi refers to a house or enclosure (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 169). Aqllaqasi is the complex where the women were taught their skills in service to the state and religious institutions. ayllu (Q.) A kin group sharing a common line of descent (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 39). cabildo (Sp.) A Spanish colonial administrative council that had the right to make land grants and transferred Inka government land to Spanish ownership. chakitaqlla (Q.) Chaki means “foot” (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 97) and –taqlla means “plow” (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 334), thus a foot plow. These are used to aerate agricultural fields (Ballón et al. 1992: 235, Rivero 2005).

358

chakra (Q.) Field or lands (Ballón et al. 1992: 45, González Holguín 1989[1608]: 91). ch’arki (Q.) Freeze-dried meat (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 98). ch’uñu (Q.) Freeze-dried potato (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 121). Moraya is a variant of churakuna wasi (Q.) A dispensary or storehouse (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 122), described by Covey as a storehouse particularly associated with the panaqa and the royal estate (Covey et al. n.d.). criado (Sp.) Servant. cuy (quwi) (Q.) (Cavia porcellus). Guinea pig, a domesticated animal kept in Andean houses to be used as food and in ritual activities. encomendero (Sp.) Individuals in the early colonial period who were entitled to the services of particular native districts. huayrachina (wayrachina) (Q.) A single-chambered natural draft furnace for smelting metals (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 195, Van Buren and Mills 2005). ichu (ychu) (Q.) A generic term for straw and grass (Ballón et al. 1992, González Holguín 1989[1608]: 366), but also a particular species found in high altitudes (Stipa ichu). información (Sp.) A colonial document used in legal proceedings. These included questionnaires presented to informants who were asked to confirm statements and add details (e.g., Toledo 1940[1571]a, b). kachikamayuq (Q.) Salt production specialist, as kachi means “salt” (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 44). kamayuq (Q.) Imperial specialist category. They may specialize in anything from pottery production to agricultural production (see González Holguín 1989[1608]: 47-48). kero (Q.) Cup made of wood or ceramic, though primarily wood (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 305-06). They are often associated with ceremonial drinking activities when decorated (see Cummins 2002, 2007). kichwa (Q.) Temperate valley-bottom ecozone (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 300).

kiwicha (Q.) (Amaranthus). A wild edible plant that is difficult to distinguish paleobotanically from quinoa.

359

kuraka (Q.) Sometimes referred to as “cacique,” the Caribe equivalent. An elite leader (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 55). llipta (Q.) An ashy mixture used to extract alkaloids while chewing coca leaf (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 214). mamakuna (Q.) Women who are trained in that which is taught in the aqllawasi. Also refers to the women who instruct the aqllakuna. These women enjoy an elevated status by their position in religious institutions (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 225). mitmaq (Q.) Rotational laborers, sometimes re-settled into state farms or other settlements to serve their turn (see Rowe 1982). moya (Q.) Contrasts with lands of economic importance and refers to lands of a more recreational nature (see Niles 1987-89). Associated with royal estates especially, though colonial references to moyas are sometimes unclear in the implication of land use. Also related to gardens (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 254). mullu (Q.) Term used to describe Spondylus shell (spiny oyster, Spondylus princeps) (see Blower 2001). muña (Q.) (Minthostachys spp.). Herbaceous wild shrub that is an edible mint (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 249) used in infusions, as a condiment, for various home remedies, and as a preservative (Gade 1975: 200, Franquemont et al. 1990: 19). panaqa (Q.) Royal Inka ayllu or lineage of Cuzco. probanza de nobleza (Sp.) Collection of documents presented as evidence of noble descent from an Inka panaqa. Designed to give the recipient exemption from labor service in the colonial period (see Garrett 2005, Rowe 1985, Urton 1990). puna (Q.) High-altitude ecozone of grasslands ((González Holguín 1989[1608]: 295). qollqa (Q.) Imperial storehouse (Guaman Poma de Ayala 2001[1515-16]: ff. 335-36) quinoa (quinua) (Q.) (Chenopodium quinoa) High-altitude domesticated grain that is difficult to distinguish from amaranth paleobotanically. qoya (Q.) Inka female ruler; counterpart to the qhapaq or male lord. reducción (Sp.) Colonial resettlement of dispersed native settlements into nucleated, planned towns. sacapa (Q.) A tree whose fruit yields seeds used to make rattles (Espinoza 1973: 285).

360

sañukamayuq (Q.) Pottery production specialist (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 324). suni (Q.) Upper elevations of the kichwa ecozone suyuruna (Q.) Common tributaries (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 333) Suyu means “province” and runa refers to “person,” but suyuruna is used more generally to refer to tributaries overall. título (Sp.) Colonial document detailing title to lands or other resources. Topo (tupu) (Q.) Prehispanic unit of measurement, though continuing in use in the colonial period (see Ballón et al. 1992: 294, González Holguín 1989[1608]: 347). tukrikuq (Q.) Imperial administrator overseeing a province or smaller unit of administration, generally a larger unit than a kuraka would oversee (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 344). tupu (Q.) A metal pin used to fasten clothing. urpu (Q.) Wide mouth jar that is usually large in scale and associated with aqha fermentation and liquid storage (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 357). visita de tierras (Sp.) Document resulting from official accounting and partitioning of lands to native communities in the colonial period. waq’a (Q.) Sacred places and objects (see González Holguín 1989[1608]: 165-66). wini (Q.) Donut-shaped stone used in preparing fields for cultivation (Rivero 2005). yana (Q.) Perpetual servant or retainer tied to a noble or religious institutional sponsor (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 363-64). yungas (yunka) (Q.) Lowland areas and lowland peoples (González Holguín 1989[1608]: 371).

361

Appendix B

CERAMIC DESCRIPTIONS

362

Rim

type

s fro

m L

IP a

nd In

ka C

heqo

q. R

im p

rofil

e cl

assi

ficat

ions

are

bas

ed o

n th

at o

f the

Huá

nuco

Pam

pa

Arc

haeo

logi

cal P

roje

ct (M

orris

et a

l. 20

11).

363

Rim types for just Cuzco-Inka decorated pottery

Paste type descriptions for decorated pottery (eliminating any paste type representing fewer than 10 sherds in a given category) Paste type was assessed using descriptions and a comparative collection from the site, aided by a hand loop.

Cuzco-Inka wares

51 A fine orange paste with fine (~0.4 mm) andesite, mica and quartz (granitic temper that can be quite large). Brilliantly polished. Paste has some voids as if there was organic temper. 52 Fine orange paste with fine (~0.4 mm) andesite and mica. Brilliantly polished. Sometimes has voids from possible organic inclusions. Is a slightly finer version of Paste 51. Most common paste type for Cuzco-Inka wares. 53 Always waster fragments. A black, spongy, lightweight body with signs of overfiring or misfiring. Probably resulting from Pastes 51 and 52.

364

54 Medium-fine red to orange paste with fine (~0.4 mm) andesite, mica and quartz inclusions. Polished surfaces. 55 Fine black, well-fired paste (reduction fired). The inclusions are mica and a whitish stone. Also comes in an oxidized version. Is similar to Paste 89 but with finer and fewer inclusion types. 59 Paste 51 but with larger granitic inclusions.

Inka-related wares (includes types 51, 52, 54, and 59 as well) 31 Fine orange paste with medium (~1 mm) andesite and fine (~0.4 mm) mica and quartz inclusions. Polished. Variable inclusion density. 56 Clean, highly fired cream-orange paste with fine red inclusions and finer black inclusions. 89 Brown, sandy paste with inclusions of medium grays, feldspaths, and a small amount of fine mica. Less oxidized version of Paste 92. Found with both Inka-related and utilitarian Inka. 92 Bright red gritty paste with feldspathic and andesite inclusions in great quantities and varying sizes. More oxidized version of Paste 89.

Killke wares (includes type 31 as well) 32 Salmon-colored paste with medium (~0.8 mm) feldspaths and red and gray inclusions. Paste has voids as if there were organic tempers.

“LIP” undefined decorated wares (includes types 31, 32, 56, and 92 as well) 34 Plain orange paste, rich in fine quartzes and feldspaths and red inclusions. Well fired. Unknown decorated wares (including descriptions of all types here, even those with fewer than 10 sherds; includes already described pastes 34, 56, 59, 89, 92) 12 Fine orange paste with moderate inclusions of fine to small quartz (up to 0.5 mm) and andesite. Sparse inclusions of grog, mica, or small voids from organic material.

365

81 Highly fired orange to gray paste with inclusions of quartz, andesite, mica, and a red mineral, of varying sizes up to ~0.8 mm. Polished, decorated finish. 82 Fine orange paste with fine (~0.4 mm) andesite, mica and quartz. Partially reduced, not finely finished. 84 Sandy paste, subject to reduction and oxidization firing. Inclusions of large (>1 mm) feldspaths and quartz and small amount of fine mica and dark gray rocks. 85 Sandy paste, partially reduced. Large (>1 mm) inclusions of quartz, feldspaths, mica, andesite, and larger red inclusion. No surface finishing. 86 Highly fired sandy red-orange paste with fine inclusions of feldspaths and basalt. 87 Sandy orange-red paste, low-fired with various sizes of inclusions (~1-5 mm) of granite, andesite, feldspaths, grog, and red and gray minerals. 90 Orange highly fired paste, with angular inclusions of medium quartz, feldspaths, and andesite. 91 Partially reduced, low fired paste with dense feldspaths and grog.

366

Examples of Cuzco-Inka wares

367

368

369

370

371

372

373

374

375

376

377

378

379

380

381

Examples of Inka-related wares

382

383

384

Examples of Killke wares

385

Examples of unknown decorated types from Inka contexts

386

387

388

389

390

391

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