The chief's own skeleton lay, or rather squatted, in the most
undignified attitude, in the central chamber. His people when they put
him there evidently considered that he was to sit at his ease, as he had
been accustomed to do in his lifetime, in the ordinary savage squatting
position, with his knees tucked up till they reached his chin, and his
body resting entirely on the heels and haunches. The skeleton was
entire: but just outside and above the stone vault we came upon a number
of other bones, which told another and very different story. Some of
them were the bones of the old prehistoric short-horned ox: others
belonged to wild boars, red deer, and sundry similar animals, for the
most part skulls and feet only, the relics of the savage funeral feast.
It was clear that as soon as the builders of the barrow had erected the
stone chamber of their dead chieftain, and placed within it his honoured
remains, they had held a great banquet on the spot, and, after killing
oxen and chasing red deer, had eaten all the eatable portions, and
thrown the skulls, horns, and hoofs on top of the tomb, as offerings to
the spirit of their departed master. But among these relics of the
funeral baked meats there were some that specially attracted our
attention--a number of broken human skulls, mingled indiscriminately
with the horns of deer and the bones of oxen. It was impossible to look
at them for a single moment, and not to recognise that we had here the
veritable remains of a cannibal feast, a hundred centuries ago, on
Ogbury hill-top.
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