Wednesday, September 23, 2026

Centuries-old mystery of Tampa Bay’s secret community of migrant potters

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Caption

At least on the surface, the decorated pottery appeared to be Mississippian, but scientists needed to look at the chemical and material makeup of the pottery to determine where it originated from.

Credit

Florida Museum photo by Jeff Gage

Key Points

  • Archaeologists have debated for decades over how Mississippian-style pottery ended up in Tampa Bay, an area long left off of maps showing the Mississippian culture stretching across the Southeast and into northern Florida starting a thousand years ago.
  • Trevor Duke, a doctoral student working at the Florida Museum of Natural History, recently undertook compositional and chemical analyses of the pottery. The research eventually expanded as scientists compiled additional evidence from across the region.
  • The results of that research have been published in a new study in which the authors concluded that migrants from the Florida Panhandle, in the heartland of Mississippian culture, likely used their specialized knowledge and access to resources to produce the distinctive pottery in Tampa Bay, potentially establishing themselves and integrating into the region’s existing society in the process.

GAINESVILLE, Fla. --- About a hundred years ago, archaeologists unearthing pottery sherds in Tampa Bay found something unexpected. Some of the fragments they recovered had designs that were nearly identical to decorated pottery located hundreds of miles to the north. At least on the surface, the pottery appeared to be Mississippian, a culture that emerged over a thousand years ago and brought social, economic and political transformation across southeastern North America. For years, archaeologists excluded peninsular Florida from maps of its range, but the artifacts suggested a different story.

“It’s been this open debate for a century,” said Neill Wallis, curator of Florida archaeology, bioarchaeology and the Ceramic Technology Laboratory at the Florida Museum of Natural History. “Tampa Bay sites had some Mississippian-like traits such as platform mound-village complexes and iconography, but lacked others, like maize agriculture and shell-tempered pottery. The Mississippian-looking pottery has always begged the question: How did this stuff wind up in Tampa Bay?”

Finding Mississippian pottery would provide some of the clearest evidence of the region’s connection to the culture, but the surface-level designs themselves weren’t enough to determine where the pottery originated. Without the proper instruments and expertise, curators shelved the mysterious pottery sherds. Various theories lingered without conclusive evidence - until recently, when researchers at the Florida Museum conducted a study to track down the answer.

“We were curious to find out if these vessels were imported from the heartland by trade, if they were local imitations of Mississippian motifs, or, as we ultimately found, if they were made by migrants who had made their way into communities in Tampa Bay to take up shop and residency there,” said Trevor Duke, who began conducting the research for his doctoral dissertation at the University of Florida. In the years since, Duke and his colleagues have expanded on the initial scope of his dissertation to compile more evidence from a larger collection of samples.

The researchers were able to look beyond the surface designs of the vessels to uncover the small, nearly invisible details of production baked into them. In doing so, they traced this decorated pottery back to a secretive community of artisans who likely traveled hundreds of miles from the heartland of Mississippian culture to their new home in Tampa Bay. Compared with the plain, molded wares commonly found throughout the region, the decorated pottery’s distinct high-quality clay, temper and production method indicate this group of migrants had access to both specialized knowledge and resources that the existing residents did not.

A cultural revolution spans the Southeast

Around 1000 A.D., a new culture took root in the Mississippi River Valley and radiated outward, eventually covering much of what is now the Midwest and eastern United States. In the heartland, Indigenous communities settled into regional hierarchies, with large chiefdoms amassing political power over surrounding villages. They planted large swaths of land with maize and quarried soil to build large mounds topped with temples and chief residences.

But Safety Harbor, the term used for the regional culture that existed in and around Tampa Bay during this period, sat on the outskirts, hundreds of miles south of tribes associated with the Mississippian culture. Like these Mississippian tribes, Safety Harbor communities aggregated in small chiefdoms and built flat-topped mounds. The largest village of Safety Harbor was home to the Tocobaga, with smaller Mocoso, Pohoy and Uzita chiefdoms dotting the surrounding region. But no single group gathered as much political power as the central hubs of the north. Furthermore, the coastal communities never adopted the hallmark maize agriculture, sustaining themselves with fishing and marine resources instead.

Given these mixed signals, archaeologists have never fully understood the extent of the connection between these coastal communities and the Mississippian heartland. Uncovering pottery with Mississippian designs in Tampa Bay only further stoked the debate.

To track down the answer, Duke and other archaeologists at the Florida Museum gathered a collection of 58 plain and decorated pottery sherds from Tampa Bay for closer analysis. Both types of vessels would have been used for cooking and serving throughout the community, but the decorated pottery was likely reserved for special occasions.

During this period, Mississippian potters began tempering their clay with crushed freshwater shell or pieces of old pottery called grog. They also began shaping their vessels by stacking coils of clay instead of molding it. If the decorated pottery in Tampa Bay was truly Mississippian, either brought by trade or crafted with the knowledge of Mississippian-trained artisans, archaeologists would see evidence of these techniques in the artifacts. On the other hand, if the decorated vessels were mere imitations of Mississippian styles that local potters saw from afar, researchers would find the region’s commonplace methods, such as sand tempering, beneath the decorative motifs.

Combining local sources and faraway skills

First, the study authors measured the chemical composition of the artifacts using neutron activation analysis to determine if the clay was locally sourced. They compared the composition of the pottery sherds with that of raw clay sources found around the region. The two chemical profiles matched, meaning that all the pottery was made on-site. This excluded the theory that the artifacts were made in the Mississippian heartland and arrived by trade, but scientists couldn’t yet rule out that the vessels were imitations.

Turning to a microscope, the researchers got a closer look at what potters were mixing into the clay during the production process. In an analysis called petrography, scientists slice off a thin section of a pottery sherd and polish it down until it is about half the width of a human hair. The light of a polarizing microscope can pass through the section and allows archaeologists to analyze the little voids, cracks and grains as clues to how the clay was processed.

“Looking at the section under a microscope, you can identify the minerals in it based on their color and shape. From that, we can figure out what was added to it. It’s a sort of fingerprint of the people who made it,” Wallis said.

This was where the Tampa Bay pottery really turned interesting.

Several of the decorated fragments were tempered with grog, a characteristic of some Mississippian pottery. Mixing crushed pottery into the clay improves the vessel’s quality by helping it withstand the high temperatures of firing and cooking.

“This grog tempering is not something that we saw previously or in the plain samples in Tampa Bay,” Duke said. “But up in the Tallahassee Hills, where the nearest massive Mississippian mound center is located, it’s common in all vessels. It’s the plain-Jane tempering technique there.”

It was more than technique connecting this pottery to the Tallahassee Hills, located some 200 miles north of Tampa Bay. Within the grog temper, scientists identified mica, a shiny silicate mineral common to the Panhandle but not typically found in peninsular Florida. The clay of the host pot may have been local to Tampa Bay, but the particles that had been mixed with it appeared to be from the Mississippian heartland.

While 80% of the decorated pottery in the sample contained grog, not a single piece of plain pottery did. Most plain vessels contained chunks of dry clay or sand, a temper used for both plain and decorated pottery for the previous 3,000 years.

This was not the only distinction between the two styles. The decorated pottery showcased the Mississippian method of shaping the vessel by coiling and was made with more consistent paste recipes, suggesting the potters had greater knowledge of how to process the clay. Meanwhile, the plain wares were molded, a simple practice that became more popular as the region saw an increase in population. The technique could quickly be picked up by those without pottery skills.

The more the analysis revealed, the more pieces of the puzzle fit together. All of this lends itself to the idea that potters from the Mississippian heartland brought both knowledge and resources with them from their homeland. As the migrants traversed the landscape from northern Florida, they would have carried a bag of old pottery made of clay from their homeland. Arriving in Tampa Bay, this decorated pottery would be crushed, ground and worked into the fresh clay of their new home.

Beyond function, this cache of grog likely held meaning to the migrants. They reserved the decorated pottery of their homeland for this purpose. Every grog-tempered vessel contained a piece of multi-generational grog, which is when a piece of grog is embedded within another, larger piece of grog. They are tiny pieces of their homeland that they incorporated into all the vessels, even the ones they’re making in their new home in Tampa Bay.

“It’s sort of like Russian nesting dolls because you have grog within grog within grog. You can trace this back several generations of pots,” Wallis said. “And they’re not using vessels from just anywhere. They’re crushing up the same decorated vessels that include pieces of decorated pottery from before.”

Their advanced pottery-making skills and connection to Mississippian culture may have helped the migrants establish themselves in an unfamiliar place, transforming the commonplace traditions of their homeland into unique skills valued by their new community.

“Migrant communities often had to figure out their own niche in a new place,” said Andrea Torvinen, collections manager of the Ceramic Technology Lab and Florida Archaeology at the Florida Museum. “What would have made these migrants stand out? How would they have established a role in this new area? Bringing a specialized knowledge of pottery production seems to have been one way they could do so.”

These skills were coveted, and resources were limited, which is why archaeologists only see evidence of them in decorated pottery while the plain, everyday vessels continued to be produced by novices using low-skill and existing techniques. The decorated vessels were also made of higher-quality clays than the plain pottery, indicating the migrants making these vessels were granted access to a limited resource of high-quality materials for their craft.

Maintaining the secret

This distinction between decorated and plain pottery persists for centuries. But why did local residents not simply pick up the new skills? Whether intentional or not, the secrets of the trade would have been confined to a small community of crafters working alongside one another.

“The group of potters making the decorated vessels likely had some kind of special status that they maintained through this secretive practice, even if it wasn’t a secret in the sense that no one knew about it,” Wallis said. “In fact, for secrets like this, you do have to broadcast some of the details so that people know there is a secret.”

The high-quality, decorated pots would have been circulated and valued around the community, but the tempering, coiling and consistency are not clearly visible in the finished product. Therefore, they’re not easily mimicked. Without intimate access to this tight circle of migrant potters, the existing Tampa Bay residents would not have been able to adopt the skilled practices themselves.

“People with specialized skills have direct relationships with the people learning from them. That's how we see knowledge passed down. When it’s the way your mentor has always done it, that’s how you’re going to do it,” Torvinen said. “And in this case, there could have been a more meaningful reason behind it. By tying the homeland pottery into this enchainment, they’re bringing those pots with them into the next generation.”

The study was published in American Antiquity.

Saturday, September 19, 2026

How 30,000 archaeological treasures were saved from destruction during Syria’s civil war


Peer-Reviewed Publication

University of Sharjah

2nd millennium statue from Syria’s Mesopotamian site of Mari 

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An ancient statue from the site of Mari, dating to the second millennium BCE.

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Credit: Yaarob Abdullah

By Leon Barkho, University of Sharjah

A new study sheds light on how Syrian archaeologists risked their lives to rescue approximately 30,000 priceless artifacts from the Deir ez-Zor Museum during the summers of 2014 and 2015 as the city faced the imminent threat of capture by the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), also known as Daesh.

Situated on the banks of the Euphrates River near Iraq’s border, Deir ez-Zor is the capital of the province of the same name. The region contains some of Syria’s most important oil and gas fields, turning it into a fiercely contested battleground during the conflict.

Maamoun Abdulkarim, Professor of Archaeology and History at the University of Sharjah and author of the study published in Museum Management and Curatorship, said the significance of the rescue effort extends beyond the number of artifacts saved.

The researcher presents the operation as a compelling case study in protecting cultural heritage during wartime, particularly in light of the damage inflicted on museums and archaeological sites across the Middle East, including in Iraq, Libya, Sudan and Yemen.

According to Professor Abdulkarim, conducting a rescue mission amid active hostilities requires more than logistical planning. “It fundamentally involves decision-making, institutional resilience, trust, and the ability to adapt rapidly to changing circumstances,” he explained. “There is rarely a perfect moment to act during an armed conflict; often, delaying a decision in search of greater certainty poses a greater danger than acting under uncertainty.”

At the time, the researcher oversaw the operation as the Director-General of Syria's Directorate-General of Antiquities and Museums (DGAM). Access to the city was severely restricted, with the museum connected to the military airport only through a narrow and highly vulnerable corridor, rendering the mission exceptionally dangerous.

Endangered heritage

There are no official estimates of the number of archaeologically significant sites in Syria, but the country’s antiquities department is said to have a file of about 10,000 sites.

These, however, are primarily locations that have either been excavated or identified through visible archaeological remains on the surface. Modern-day Syria forms part of the broader Mesopotamian cultural sphere, where some of the world’s earliest and most influential civilizations flourished.

Given that large areas of the country remain archaeologically unsurveyed, it is reasonable to estimate that Syria may contain tens of thousands of archaeologically significant sites.

Before the outbreak of the civil war in 2011, Syria was home to 35 archaeological museums spread across the country. Although not the largest among them, the Deir ez-Zor Museum ranked among the country’s most valuable institutions. Many of its priceless collections originated from renowned Mesopotamian civilizations and sites, including Halaf, Dura-Europos and Mari.

In his study, Professor Abdulkarim does not provide a precise estimate of the number of artifacts that were looted during the civil war, which lasted nearly a decade and a half. Nor does he specify how many of the country’s 35 museums escaped destruction or managed to preserve their collections intact.

He notes, however, that the period following 2014, when ISIS expanded its control over large parts of Syria and Iraq, represented “an important example of the sort of looting, destruction, and illicit trafficking of sites and museums that took place in this context.”

“This period formed a critical juncture, as it coincided with the fall of Mosul in Iraq, the looting of its civilizational museum, and the destruction of antiquities from Nineveh and Assyria,” he writes. “These occurrences compelled Syrian antiquities authorities to promptly reevaluate protection policies and expedite emergency measures in cities that were at risk of siege or collapse.”

In those catastrophic circumstances, Professor Abdulkarim came to understand that leadership was not about making easy decisions, but about having the courage to make the necessary decisions at the right moment, even when the personal and professional consequences could be severe.

“My foremost priority was the protection of cultural heritage, and I was prepared to bear whatever personal and professional risks and consequences those decisions might entail,” he explains.

During his tenure as DGAM’s Director-General from 2012 to 2017, approximately 300,000 museum artifacts were rescued and relocated to secure sites across Syria. “The artifacts accounted for the overwhelming majority of the country’s museum collections,” he said. “This included approximately 30,000 objects from the Deir ez-Zor Museum.”

Lessons for future rescue missions

In his research, Professor Abdulkarim delivers an important message to professionals engaged in protecting archaeological heritage during wars and crises. For him, artifacts are far more than priceless objects. They embody the collective memory and identity of humanity, transcending the borders of the countries in which they are found. “We did not rescue 30,000 objects simply to save 30,000 museum pieces. We were protecting thousands of years of memory that war threatened to erase,” he said.

“The 30,000 objects rescued from Deir ez-Zor represent more than just museum pieces; they hold thousands of years of human history and are part of the identity and memory of the communities in the Euphrates region.”

Reflecting on the operation to remove endangered collections from one of Syria’s most significant museums and relocate them to safety, Professor Abdulkarim emphasizes that timing is often the decisive factor in any rescue mission. Waiting for every uncertainty to be resolved, he warns, can mean missing the critical window for action.

“In a cultural emergency, waiting for perfect conditions can become more dangerous than acting under uncertainty,” he stressed. “Heritage protection during war is not only about what we save. It is also about when we decide to act, whom we trust, and how quickly we are prepared to adapt.”

He also highlights several other factors that are essential for safeguarding heritage in times of crisis, including competent personnel, effective institutions, meticulous inventories and documentation, and trusted colleagues on the ground.

“The most valuable resource during a crisis is not always money or technology,” he noted. “Sometimes it is trust, the trust between colleagues who can make the right decision when there is no time left for normal procedures.”

Perhaps most importantly, Professor Abdulkarim’s research demonstrates that risk management should be embedded within everyday heritage management rather than introduced after a crisis has begun.

The rescue of one of Syria’s most important archaeological museums offers a powerful lesson at a time when museums, archaeological sites, and cultural treasures across the region have repeatedly been subjected to destruction, looting and illicit trafficking in the aftermath of wars and civil unrest.

“The relationships, documentation, professional capacity, and trust required for effective emergency action must be established during periods of stability,” Professor Abdulkarim concluded. “They should not wait until a crisis erupts before taking action. These foundations cannot be built overnight.”


 

Thursday, September 17, 2026

The complex history of the plague after the Black Death


Peer-Reviewed Publication

Estonian Research Council

EMS001_Burial_25_DomatEms.jpg.jpg 

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Multiple burial of plague victims from Domat/Ems, Sogn Pieder (Switzerland) associated with the Plague of the Thirty Years’ War (c.1629–1631). Analyses of individual 24 yielded a full Yersinia pestis genome. Image credit: Archaeological Service of the Canton of Grisons.

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Credit: Image credit: Archaeological Service of the Canton of Grisons.

The Black Death is often remembered as a single catastrophic event that swept across Europe between 1347 and 1353, killing millions. Yet the disease did not disappear after that first devastating outbreak. For over four centuries, plague continued to return in recurring waves, reshaping communities, economies, and societies across Europe and beyond. A new study led by researchers at the University of Tartu sheds fresh light on this long and complex history by analysing the DNA of the plague bacterium preserved in archaeological human remains.

The researchers reconstructed 26 genomes of Yersinia pestis, the bacterium responsible for plague, from 11 archaeological sites in Estonia, Russia, England, the Netherlands, and Switzerland. The samples span a period from the fourteenth to the eighteenth centuries, covering much of the so-called Second Plague Pandemic.

The results reveal the complex history of plague with unprecedented resolution. Rather than persisting in a single location after the Black Death, plague repeatedly resurfaced in different parts of Europe over several centuries, seeding multiple new reservoirs. The researchers found evidence that plague was introduced multiple times into Estonia throughout much of the Second Plague Pandemic, showing that close connections with other parts of Europe also facilitated the spread of disease.

One of the study's most notable findings was evidence of a major expansion of plague lineages around 1450–1500. During this period, the bacterium diversified into three major branches that may have established new reservoirs in wild rodent populations.

The researchers speculate that climatic changes could have played a role. One possible factor is the Great Renaissance Drought. Modern studies have shown that climate strongly influences plague outbreaks among wild rodents, which serve as natural reservoirs of the disease.

“We found evidence for repeated introductions of plague into Estonia starting already in the late 14th century and identified several previously unknown genetic lineages, both in urban and rural settings” said senior author Prof. Kristiina Tambets.

 

More precise timeframe

One of the most innovative aspects of the study was a new method for assigning historical plague outbreaks to recovered plague genomes. The importance of this approach can be illustrated by comparing it with the COVID-19 pandemic. During the coronavirus crisis, scientists were able to track the spread of different variants because genome sequences came with precise collection dates. Historical pandemics are different: ancient remains are often dated only within broad radiocarbon intervals that can span more than a century.

“With COVID-19, scientists could reconstruct the spread of individual strains extremely well because the genomes came with precise timestamps. For historical pandemics, those timestamps are often missing or may cover more than 100 years, which limits our ability to interpret the genetic data,” the main author, Dr Marcel Keller, explained.

To overcome this challenge, the research team developed a method that improves the precision and accuracy of those intervals. By analysing the position of plague genomes on the bacterium's evolutionary tree, they were able to narrow down the likely dates of many samples and place them into a much clearer historical context.

The researchers then used these improved dates to reassess 64 previously published and 11 newly sequenced plague genomes. The result is the first systematic attempt to link nearly all currently available plague genomes from the fourteenth to eighteenth centuries with historically documented outbreaks.

“We were able to improve dating intervals for many samples, which allowed us to connect them to specific plague waves and outbreaks that were recorded in the respective towns or regions by chroniclers,” said historian and corresponding author Prof. Philip Slavin.

War helped spread disease

The study also highlights how strongly human activity shaped the course of plague epidemics. Newly analysed genomes provide additional evidence for outbreaks associated with the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648) and the Great Northern War (c. 1700–1721). According to the researchers, plague frequently spread along the same routes used by armies, refugees and traders.

“We see how Yersinia pestis splits into new branches during periods of conflict and spreads along the routes travelled by troops and displaced populations,” said senior author Dr Christiana L. Scheib.

The findings offer new insights into plague outbreaks during the Great Northern War. In Tallinn, for example, plague caused casualties among Swedish and Russian troops as well as civilians during the 1710 siege.

More broadly, the research shows that plague was not a single historical disaster but a recurring threat that devastated cities and regions generation after generation.

Why it matters today

Although plague is no longer a major public health threat in Europe, the disease has not disappeared. Yersinia pestis still survives in natural rodent reservoirs in several parts of the world.

The researchers argue that understanding how plague established itself after the Black Death, persisted for centuries, and eventually disappeared from Europe can help scientists better understand the long-term dynamics of infectious diseases.

By linking ancient plague genomes to historical outbreaks and potential reservoir populations, the study provides new insights into how pandemics emerge, spread and persist over time. Such knowledge may also contribute to modern disease surveillance and public health efforts to monitor contemporary plague foci.

Collaboration across countries and disciplines

The study was made possible through extensive international collaboration. Samples and expertise came from partners across Europe, including researchers at the University of Cambridge and collaborators in the Netherlands and Switzerland. By combining ancient DNA research, archaeology, history, and radiocarbon dating, the team has produced the most comprehensive genetic picture of the Second Plague Pandemic to date and provided new insights into how one of history's deadliest diseases shaped Europe for centuries.

Read more: https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2534899123

Was Nîmes depopulated by the Plague of Cyprian?

 


Analyses of the carbonate deposits in the aqueduct featuring the famous Pont du Gard shed light on the water supply of the ancient city of Nîmes

Peer-Reviewed Publication

Johannes Gutenberg Universitaet Mainz

The Pont du Gard supplied ancient Nîmes with water. 

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The Pont du Gard supplied ancient Nîmes with water.
 

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Credit: photo/©: Meltem Sürmelihindi

Researchers at Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz (JGU) have gleaned new insights into ancient water management in the French region around Nîmes by analyzing carbonate deposits within the Roman aqueduct that features the famous Pont du Gard bridge. Among other findings, the aqueduct – built around 50 AD – was expanded to include an additional water source after eleven years of operation; this event coincided with a historically documented dry spell. A century after the aqueduct's construction, the water supply to the city was deliberately throttled; it is likely that some of the water was diverted to agricultural land in the surrounding area instead. Another 120 years later, the urban water supply ceased completely, coinciding with an empire-wide economic crisis and the Plague of Cyprian (250-270 AD). Nîmes was presumably depopulated by the plague, rendering the water supply to the city unnecessary. "The carbonate deposits document human interventions spanning roughly 300 years during the Pax Romana and also offer insights into social unrest," summarized Dr. Gül Sürmelihindi of JGU’s Institute of Geosciences. The team led by Professor Cees Passchier published the results of the carbonate analysis in the journal Geoarchaeology on September 15.

After eleven years, the aqueduct was expanded to include a second water source

For their study, Sürmelihindi and her colleague Passchier extracted samples of carbonate rock – formed over time by the flowing water – from ten locations along the 50-kilometer-long aqueduct and analyzed the rock layers using isotope analysis. Variations in water inflow and temperature had caused distinct patterns to form within the layers, comparable to tree rings. "At the base of the samples, there is a carbonate layer about two centimeters thick, covered by a thin layer of clay," said Passchier. According to him, the composition of this layer – and especially the clay layer, both of which were deposited during the aqueduct's first eleven years of operation – points to a drought in the western Mediterranean region, an event also documented by the Roman historian Tacitus. "The nature of the carbonate changes in the subsequent layers: after eleven years, a different type of water was introduced. An additional source was tapped to ensure the aqueduct had a sufficient water supply," said Passchier. This correlates with structural modifications to the aqueduct – such as the raising, reinforcing, and partial buttressing of the sidewalls to accommodate the higher water level – that are still visible today on the Pont du Gard bridge.

Powerful figures diverted water

Around 150 AD, the deposited carbonate layers became significantly thinner: the water level in the aqueduct dropped. "About half of the water supplying the city was diverted to irrigate fields – given the large volume, this appears to have been an authorized withdrawal," said Sürmelihindi. Such an arrangement would likely have been possible only for highly influential individuals; furthermore, the city does not seem to have had a critical need for the water. For the next hundred years or so, the aqueduct functioned flawlessly – albeit with a reduced volume of water reaching the city.

Water supply to the city ceases around 270 AD: The Plague of Cyprian?

From the mid-third century onwards, the color and composition of the carbonate changed: it became more porous and incorporated clay and sand – signs that the aqueduct was no longer being well maintained. "Great economic and political turmoil prevailed across many parts of the Roman Empire. The carbonate deposits reveal that the city's condition was deteriorating," said Sürmelihindi. Around 270 AD, carbonate deposition came to an abrupt halt in samples taken near the city: the water supply to Nîmes was completely cut off. Instead, owners of vast estates were diverting the water upstream, as evidenced by the continuous deposition of carbonate in the rural sections of the aqueduct.

"The results suggest that something happened to the population of Nîmes," said Sürmelihindi. "It is possible that the Plague of Cyprian – which is primarily documented in North Africa and even in Rome, where it claimed many lives – also posed a problem in southern France, as suggested by our study’s co-author, Professor Andrew Wilson of the University of Oxford. Not much is known about this plague in Western Europe." Did this epidemic depopulate Nîmes, causing survivors to move from the city to the countryside? Archaeological findings support the hypothesis derived from the carbonate analyses: many cities in southern France contracted at this time, some by barbarian invasions, but some by unexplained reasons. The city of Cahors – located about 300 kilometers west of Nîmes – was also in crisis, a fact revealed by Passchier and Sürmelihindi through their study of local carbonate deposits; this further reinforces the theory regarding the Plague of Cyprian.

In rural areas, however, water from the aqueduct continued to be used for another 140 years, well into the 5th century. People drilled holes into the sidewalls to extract water for agriculture – a practice evidenced by massive limescale deposits on the aqueduct's exterior caused by the resulting leaks. "The city could easily have repaired the aqueduct during those 140 years," says Passchier. "Apparently, however, the decline in population density and urban wealth was permanent."