All language subtitles for Hidden.Beneath.the.Cities.S01E06.Subterranean.Secrets.and.Forgotten.Foundations.1080p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-KHN_track3_[eng]

Below the Italian
town of Tivoli,

a cave exploration reveals
a remarkable discovery.

What they discovered
was a complete surprise.

So just how old were
these mysterious passageways

and what were they used for?

Archaeologists
conducting a survey

below the city of Nuremberg
make a grim discovery.

Whatever killed these
people, it was indiscriminate

and affected an entire
cross-section of the community.

Was every individual
really a victim of the plague,

or did something else kill them?

Beneath London's
bustling streets,

a surprising structure
is found.

Archaeologists
from the Museum of London

discovered the foundations
of a much older building.

Its footprint
would have been the size

of an Olympic swimming pool.

So who built this place
and what was it used for?

Below the busy
streets of the world's cities

exists a hidden
realm of wonder.

Sprawling ancient complexes,

mysterious tombs,

top-secret military bases,

strange structures,

and lost artifacts

buried beneath our feet
and long forgotten

until now.

Underground marvels are exposed
to reveal what lies...

Hidden Beneath the Cities.

Around 20 miles northeast of
Rome lies the town of Tivoli,

where the Aniene River,
a tributary of the Tiber,

cascades and waterfalls as it
descends from the Sabine Hills.

At about 750 feet
above sea level,

the town offers sweeping views
of the Roman countryside below.

Tivoli is perched
on a long limestone ridge,

and over the thousands of years,

the Aniene River has carved
a valley into the formation.

As a result, the surrounding
terrain is rich with travertine,

which is a type of limestone
formed from the combination

of river and spring water
with calcium carbonate.

Also known as Roman travertine,

the sedimentary rock is
an ideal building material.

And it's been used for such
landmarks as the Colosseum,

the Theatre of Marcellus,
and St. Peter's Basilica.

During the era
of the Roman Republic,

Tivoli became a favorite summer
retreat for wealthy elites

and leaders who wanted to escape

the bustle and the politics
of Rome.

In 118 CE, the most famous
of these, Emperor Hadrian,

began building
an expansive villa

located on the plains of Tivoli.

In more recent
years, the area has provided

hundreds of fascinating
discoveries

for historians
and archaeologists.

And while most of the landscape
has been explored

and well-documented,

there remains a few
undiscovered locations

waiting to be excavated,

and waiting to reveal secrets
from the area's rich past.

A team of amateur
caving enthusiasts

is doing a preliminary survey
near Tivoli,

a few miles southwest
of the archaeological site

at Hadrian's Villa, when they
encounter something unexpected.

There was a small
hole in the ground

that had been
concealed by bushes.

The sun's rays created
a shaft of light

that lit up
a cavernous space below.

So, naturally curious about
whatever was down there,

they rappelled
into the darkness.

What they discovered
was a complete surprise.

The open space appeared
to be the main gallery

of several underground
tunnels or passageways.

Most of the tunnels
were fairly narrow,

the smallest almost too narrow
to fit an adult human.

And others were as wide
as seven feet in diameter.

Almost all of them
were filled to the top

with centuries' worth
of debris and dirt.

The most shocking thing
about these tunnels

was the simple fact that they
were uncharted and unexplored.

The existence of other tunnels
had been known for some time,

but these didn't appear
on any historical record.

So just how old were these
mysterious passageways,

and what were they used for?

The sheer amount
of debris filling the tunnels

is just one of the challenges
to solving the mystery.

The approach used
for clearing and assessing

the tunnels was two-pronged:

first, the traditional
but time-consuming method

of manually filling up
buckets with dirt

and sending them to the surface
on a rappelled pulley system.

At the same time, several types
of robots, some with cameras,

were sent into the tunnels

that were too small
for any human to access.

As the excavations
progressed,

it became clear the structures
were in pristine condition

and almost entirely intact.

More surprisingly, the initial
passageways turned out to be

part of a much larger
and longer network.

The biggest surprise
was the discovery

of a four-sided passageway
of connected tunnels

called the Grand Trapezio.

The four tunnels contained
separate chambers, or stalls,

cut into them with rounded
ceilings called a barrel vault,

similar in shape
to the tombs and chambers

of underground catacombs.

So is it possible that this
network of secret passageways

was a massive
underground necropolis?

It wouldn't be
the first evidence

of Roman catacombs discovered

on the outskirts
of the capital city.

Tunnels and tombs were built
into the soft volcanic rock

and used for burials from
the 2nd to the 5th century.

The catacombs
were used by Jews,

but particularly by
early Christians in Rome

when it was illegal for them
to worship in public

and illegal for anyone
to bury their dead

within the city walls.

The elaborate tunnels contained
maze-like pathways

and chambers for worship,

but the main feature was the
niches for the wrapped bodies.

One of the largest of these

was the Catacomb of Callixtus,
located on the Appian Way,

under four miles
from the center of Rome.

It's believed
to have been created

by the future Pope Callixtus I,

who at the beginning
of the 3rd century

was appointed as the
administrator of the cemetery.

And the catacombs became
the official cemetery

of the Church of Rome.

The Catacomb of
Callixtus features a network

of galleries and tombs
over 10 miles long,

and contains at least 15 popes,

most of whom were buried
in one central crypt

nicknamed The Little Vatican.

But the site at Tivoli
shows no further evidence

of being a catacomb.

The rounded barrel vault
openings only appear

in one section
of the tunnel network,

which meant they were likely
created for another purpose.

As the excavation
of the Tivoli site progresses,

efforts to determine
the tunnel's true origin

lead to an alarming discovery.

As more of the debris
was removed,

the intricate passageways
continued to grow

in both size and distance.

Most of the tunnels were wide
enough to allow adult humans

to travel along
their entire length.

The largest of these was
a shocking 19 feet wide,

earning it the name
Strada Carrabile,

or "The Great Underground Road."

And the road analogy
didn't end there.

The floor of
the Strada Carrabile

appeared to have grooves,
or ruts, cut right into them,

as if the long passage
had been used

for the transport
of carts and wagons.

At 19 feet across, it was
certainly wide enough

to allow for two-way
vehicle traffic.

But the biggest shock
was the discovery

of the Grand Trapezio's
ultimate destination.

From the original site,
the tunnel traveled

two and a half miles underground

and led directly to
a section of Hadrian's Villa.

It seemed the famous emperor
had a hidden tunnel system

connected to his private estate,
all intended for moving people

and vehicles efficiently
and secretly.

The question is why?

A closer look
at the life and legacy

of Rome's 14th emperor
offers a critical clue.

Hadrian ruled
the empire from 117 to 138 CE,

one of a succession
of five leaders

known as the Five Good Emperors

because of their capable
and prosperous reign.

But unlike many
of his predecessors,

Hadrian focused on strengthening
and consolidating

the existing empire
rather than expanding it.

Hadrian's most
effective strategy

for preserving the empire
was a powerful defense;

protecting the borders
at all costs.

So it's no surprise
that he's best known

for building Hadrian's Wall,

a massive stone fortification

protecting the Roman-held
province of Britannia.

Stretching 73 miles
from east to west,

it's the largest Roman

archaeological feature
in Britain.

In light of Hadrian's
defensive approach

to securing and keeping power,

the existence of
a secret tunnel system

underneath his private villa
begins to make a lot of sense.

Is it possible the miles-long
hidden passageways

are in fact escape routes,

built to ensure a fast
and efficient getaway

for the emperor in case of an
enemy invasion or civil unrest?

Underground passages
have been built across Europe

for defensive purposes
for centuries.

In France, just outside
the village of Naours,

there's a series
of tunnels and chambers

that at one time housed

as many as three times
the town's population of 1,200.

With the arrival
of the Thirty Years' War,

the 300 rooms were used as
shelter to protect residents

from raiders
and invading armies.

At his villa,
Hadrian and his inner circle

would have been acutely aware

of the need for personal
safety and security.

This may have played a role
in the creation of the villa

in the first place,

far enough away from the
pressures and politics of Rome.

Add to the fact that the tunnel
system was completely uncharted

with no historical record
whatsoever

suggests a need for secrecy.

However, given
the complete lack

of fortified checkpoints,

hidden armories,
or designated escape hatches--

these are defensive features

that are typically found
in escape routes--

it seems unlikely that
the tunnels were built

for this purpose.

The use of advanced
geophysical techniques

for excavating the Tivoli site
reveals crucial evidence

and a compelling explanation
for the secret tunnel system.

By applying methods such
as ground-penetrating radar,

computer-assisted modeling,
and topographic surveys,

it was possible to detect

buried features

when physical excavation

wasn't possible.

Directly beneath
the villa's Pecile,

a long terrace with
a rectangular pool,

a massive number of chambers
were revealed

to be individual
living quarters.

So whoever was down there
likely stayed there.

Another key discovery
was the existence

of square recesses
in the masonry walls,

indicating the presence of
wooden beams for animal mangers.

So in addition to the humans
residing underground,

a significant number of animals

likely took up residence
as well.

So in this context,
it's possible

the rounded barrel vaults
were stables for oxen.

But the most telling
discovery was a long passageway

containing nine miles
of water pipes,

sewers, and drainage canals.

These pipes were
directly connected

to four larger aqueducts
leading to Rome,

both as a supply of fresh water

and to dispose of waste.

Taken in total,
a picture emerged

of an entire world
below Hadrian's Villa:

a sophisticated network
of infrastructure,

storage for food and supplies,

and living quarters
for the servants and slaves

who kept
the opulent villa running

according to Hadrian's wishes.

The discovery
of Hadrian's secret tunnels

offers an unprecedented
snapshot of life

in Imperial Rome.

From the thrones of power

to the slave labor
that supported it,

it invites a deeper
understanding

of the brilliant minds
behind Roman engineering,

and brings the ongoing
historical narrative

to vibrant life.

Located in central Germany,

about 100 miles north
of Munich,

is the city of Nuremberg.

In the 20th century,
Nuremberg was forever tied

to Nazi Germany
and the Holocaust.

Not only did Adolf Hitler
choose this city

as the site for the Nazi Party
rallies during the 1930s,

but after the war, it became a
symbol of international justice

when it hosted
the Nuremberg Trials

between 1945 and 1946.

Nuremberg's historical
roots go back centuries.

The first mention of the city
is in a document

issued by Holy Roman Emperor
Henry III in 1050 CE.

It was also the home
of the Imperial Castle,

a residence for the emperor.

As such, Nuremberg became known
as the unofficial capital

of the Holy Roman Empire.

During medieval times,

the city was a hub of economic
and cultural activity.

Not only was it an important
site for trade,

it typified the explosion
of artistic

and scientific ingenuity
of the Renaissance.

Artist Albrecht Durer
resided here,

as did the inventors of
the globe and the pocket watch.

Today,
Nuremberg has a population

of about half a million people,
but like many German cities,

the overall population
is getting older.

In 2023,
city officials approved

the construction
of a new retirement home

in Nuremberg's
St. Johannis District.

But before work can begin,

a standard archaeological
survey of the site

yields a grim discovery.

Excavations of
the 60,000-square-foot lot

had begun in the fall, and
by spring the following year,

there was a startling
announcement.

The dig uncovered
eight mass graves,

each containing
hundreds of bodies.

More than 1,000 skeletons
were unearthed,

and there were estimates
that that number of dead

was going to climb.

The graves were cut
into the earth

without any structural
elements or lining

that would have suggested
a ceremonial burial.

It appears these people were
hastily thrown into a trench

and covered with earth.

The remains included
both adult men and women

of various ages,
and children as well.

In some areas of the pits,
the bodies were layered,

packed together to maximize
every available space.

One of the graves
contained nearly 300 bodies.

Some of them were sitting
against the walls of the pit,

others were just lying down
on their sides.

Whatever killed these
people, it was indiscriminate

and affected an entire
cross-section of the community.

Many of the skeletons exhibited
an unusual green discoloration,

while the bones
of other skeletons

appear to have been damaged
and scattered by a large impact.

A wealth of artifacts
was also recovered

from the pits.

There were silver coins,

there were shards
of ceramic pottery.

There were also a bunch of
buttons, hooks, and buckles

that were discovered alongside
hundreds of bodies,

and that suggests
that a lot of them

were buried in their clothes.

These artifacts
ultimately help researchers

identify the fateful date
when the dead

were unceremoniously interred
in these mass graves.

In 1943,
Nuremberg was subjected

to an Allied bombing campaign,

and initially it was thought
these hundreds of bodies

were victims of that attack.

In fact, the scattered bones
in one area

may have been due to
the impact of the bombs,

but a closer examination of
the artifacts helps determine

an altogether different
time period for the burial.

The silver coins were dated
between 1619 and 1621

while the pottery
was radiocarbon dated

to somewhere between
1622 and 1634.

This would place the
digging of these burial pits

during Europe's
brutal Thirty Years' War.

Sparked by the deep animosity

between Protestants and
Catholics in Central Europe

and the conflicting
ambitions of rulers

of Protestant and Catholic
territories,

the war raged from 1618 to 1648.

To this day, it remains one
of the most destructive wars

in European history
before the 20th century.

It was an absolutely
staggering loss of life.

In 1632, 45,000 troops from the
Allied Swedish Protestant Army

retreated into Nuremberg's
fortified city walls

for protection from
an approaching Catholic army.

Nuremberg's population suddenly
swelled with foreign soldiers

and refugees from
the surrounding areas.

Eventually, 50,000 Catholic
soldiers surrounded the city.

It was the beginning
of a bloody standoff.

And two significant problems
quickly arose.

First, no supplies could get
in or out of the city.

Then, Nuremberg sanitation
systems began to fail.

That same year,
there was more bad news.

The bubonic plague
descended on the area.

Now that had been a recurring
scourge in Nuremberg

since the 14th century,
but now, coupled with war,

that outbreak was
especially devastating.

Already weakened by
that prolonged siege,

the populations on both sides
of the city walls

were extremely vulnerable
to that outbreak.

The date of the
artifacts found in the pits

suggests the trench was dug out
during the siege,

but this timeline
is complicated

by other evidence
found in the pits.

Radiocarbon dating
on one of the bones

in the graveyard yielded
a much broader date range,

placing it between
the 15th and 17th centuries.

This introduced the idea
that these plague pits

might have been dug
much earlier.

Was every individual found
in these mass graves

really a victim of the plague,
or did something else kill them?

Prior to the siege
of Nuremberg,

the city did have
a dark history of violence

against members
of its own population.

100 years
before the siege,

a newly formed
Protestant religious group

known as the Anabaptists
were heavily persecuted

by authorities
for their beliefs.

Anabaptists didn't believe
in baptizing people as infants.

Instead, they thought people
should be baptized

when they were adults and could
commit to Christian belief.

They also promoted the
separation of church and state.

They thought that rulers
should have no say

in the religious adherence
and practice of their subjects,

and that the church
should be made up

of a voluntary
community of believers.

Now, this would have been
incredibly controversial

in all of the territories
of the Holy Roman Empire.

These convictions
made them enemies

among both Catholics
and Protestants

who viewed the Anabaptists
as dangerous heretics,

and sometimes they persecuted
them to the point of death.

Decades of religious
persecution ensued,

with mounted soldiers hunting
down suspected Anabaptists

in towns across the country.

Those who were found were
indiscriminately slaughtered,

sometimes drowned, or even hung
outside their homes.

Thousands of Anabaptists
were massacred.

During
the Thirty Years' War,

a radical religious group
like the Anabaptists

would have been vulnerable
to violence from both sides.

So it's possible that the chaos
of the siege of Nuremberg

could have accelerated
the execution of the Anabaptists

who would then be disposed of

alongside victims
of the standoff.

However, the pits may
have had another purpose

prior to the onslaught
of the plague.

It's possible these
hastily dug mass graves

could contain the deceased from
both the battle and the plague.

But evidence from another
standoff the same year,

about 130 miles away
in the town of Lutzen,

paints a clearer picture
of a mass death

from a military conflict.

Remains from that site
were almost exclusively

military-aged males.

Many of them showed evidence
of traumatic injuries

from bullets and blades,

while the Nuremberg graves
contained victims

from across demographics--

young and old,
women and children--

and none of them so far
have been reported

to show battlefield injuries.

Now it's possible that
a lot of people who suffered

from the siege of Nuremberg's
resulting health issues

were buried here as well.

It's really hard to know
whether or not these victims

ended up inside these pits
prior to the plague.

Searching for clues,
researchers pore over

historical records until
they find their smoking gun.

A note was discovered in
Nuremberg's municipal archives.

It was dated 1634,

one year after the devastation
from the siege.

The note specifically mentions
the plague outbreak

between 1632 and 1633,

and states that approximately
2,000 people were buried

in a mass grave near
the St. Sebastian Hospital.

And the hospital was located
just over 150 feet

from the 2023 excavation site.

It's strong evidence
that these pits

were specifically part
of an emergency effort

to bury the growing number of
dead from the plague epidemic.

And the artifacts
found with the bodies

may be corroborating evidence.

Why?

Because often, valuables
like coins and buckles

would have been stripped from
the deceased prior to burial.

But fear was clearly a more
powerful driver than greed here.

The fact that these items
ended up in the pit

speaks to the panic that
must have enveloped Nuremberg

as thousands of its
residents were dying.

If any of the people
buried here had died in combat

or even from the siege's
shocking array

of health emergencies, one would
expect this Christian community

to have performed more
dignified funeral rites.

But those traditions seem
to have been abandoned here.

The mass grave provides a window

into the psychology
of the citizens

who used a horrifying
last resort

in the face of a deadly
outbreak of disease.

The site in Nuremberg
is believed to be

the largest mass grave
ever excavated in Europe.

And the investigation
is far from over.

The eight burial pits
have yet to be fully cataloged

and analyzed, and likewise,

all those skeletons
are still being examined

to determine their ages, their
sexes, and their physical health

at the time that they died.

Now, all the data collected
from this tragedy

is gonna be invaluable,

because it's gonna
give us better insight

not only into this community's
terrifying year,

but also into the nature
of a fast-moving epidemic.

We do know that
the mysterious green stains

found on many of the skeletons
were caused centuries later

by industrial waste from
a nearby metal processing plant.

This speaks to how
thousands of bodies

were hidden below the city
streets for generations,

unbeknownst to the town
and its citizens.

And even today, the graves
are still inaccessible

to the public as further
research continues.

But there are some
mysteries in these trenches

that have yet to be solved.

There are indications that
at least one of the pits

was partially exhumed sometime
after the initial burial.

We don't know why this would
have been done or by who.

So did this pit originally
contain more bodies

than were found
in the current excavation?

As the city
of Nuremberg moves forward

with its planned retirement
home to care for the elderly,

these mysterious graves
reveal a chilling story

of a time when thousands
of its citizens

were buried and nearly lost
to history.

Just a few blocks
from the London Bridge,

near the historic
Leadenhall Market,

is London's Financial District,
also known as the Square Mile.

If London is
the economic driver of England,

the Square Mile
has been its engine

for the better part
of 2,000 years.

Each week, this borough,
also simply called "The City,"

is flooded with
over 675,000 workers

who clock in at one
of the hundreds of offices

or retailers here.

You can also find
religion in the Square Mile.

There are over 40 churches
scattered across the borough,

including, most famously,
St. Paul's Cathedral.

These centuries-old monuments
speak to the Square Miles'

long and sometimes
tumultuous history.

During the Roman
occupation of Britain,

the city was surrounded
by a 20-foot wall.

Centuries later, the area
witnessed calamitous events

like the fall of London Bridge

and London's Great Fire.

All of this
history and architecture

is packed into a single
square mile of London,

hence the name,

and it's an area
that seems to be

in a state of perpetual
redevelopment.

In February of 2025,
at 85 Gracechurch Street,

workers in the Square Mile
prepared to demolish

an older building to make way
for a new office tower.

But before the
demolition of any building

within the Square Mile
can proceed,

London requires developers
to facilitate

an archaeological survey.

So they did, and what they found
under this condemned building

was truly remarkable.

Archaeologists
from the Museum of London

excavated
the building's basement,

and buried beneath centuries
of earth and debris,

discovered the foundations
of a much older building,

along with remnants
of a limestone wall

and massive chunks of masonry.

And eventually, the dimensions

of a rectangular-shaped building
were revealed.

Its footprint would
have been the size

of an Olympic swimming pool,
and an adjacent courtyard

looks to have been
as large as a soccer field.

This structure
appears to have stood

approximately two and a half
stories high

with large windows
on its upper floors

that maximized
the natural light.

Within the interior,

there's evidence of internal
columns and a central hall.

So who built this place
and what was it used for?

Analysis of
the building materials

and construction methods
dates the building

to somewhere between
70 and 84 CE,

roughly three decades after
Rome invaded Britain in 43 CE.

The city of London was
founded by Roman conquerors

around 50 CE
when the area was known

as the settlement of Londinium.

A decade later, it would become

the most important city
in the country,

with its proximity
to the River Thames

making it a key port
for the Roman Empire.

After consulting
London's historical records

and maps, officials realized
this isn't just any building.

This is a Roman basilica,

the hub of civic life
in Roman-era London.

In later centuries, the term
"basilica" came to be used

to describe Christian churches,

but this was a vibrant
and busy public square.

And much like
the Square Mile today,

it was the political and
economic center of the city.

The evidence suggests
that only about 20 to 30 years

after it was constructed,
the basilica was demolished.

This was a remarkably
brief lifespan

for a building that was
so central to Roman life.

The basilica was
eventually replaced

by a much grander structure
in 120 CE

that's estimated to have been

five times the size
of the original.

That newer building lasted
until the end of Roman rule

over Britain in 409 CE.

Why the basilica
was so quickly erased

from London's cityscape
after only two decades

is a confounding question.

How did this astonishing symbol
of Roman imperialism

suddenly became obsolete while
the empire occupied the region

for another 300 years?

Despite
the Romans' engineering

and building prowess,

the basilica may have had
a structural flaw.

Because of its
proximity to the River Thames,

the building's foundations

were likely vulnerable
to water damage.

Building next to a body of water
is always a risk.

The ground could have
been unstable,

which may have contributed to
a significant amount of flooding

that eventually compromised
the building's integrity.

But the Romans had
incredible foresight

in preventing these
kinds of calamities,

especially when it came
to critical infrastructure.

Rome's engineers would often
include built-in safeguards

during the planning phase
of their building projects.

While it is
entirely plausible

that the basilica's structural
integrity was compromised

by water damage or some other
unforeseen engineering crisis,

there aren't any signs
of collapse

or significant flooding.

Some suspect
that the basilica

may not have been built
to last.

Rather, its construction may
have been a hasty response

to an outside threat.

The Romans invaded
Britain in 43 CE

and eventually forced
a Celtic tribe called the Iceni

into an alliance.

The Iceni inhabited an area
called East Anglia,

which would later become
present-day Norfolk in England.

After the Romans began
their occupation of Britain,

they demanded that the Iceni
lay down their arms,

and they reluctantly complied.

However,
17 years later, in 60 CE,

the Romans attempted to
take over East Anglia as well.

Queen Boudica of the Iceni
was furious

and decided to lead a rebellion,

marching her forces
into Roman-occupied towns

and setting them ablaze.

The fires of the so-called
Boudican Revolt

would consume several towns,

including London, the crown
jewel of Roman Britain.

The Romans eventually
crushed the Iceni Rebellion,

but it's hard to overstate

how much devastation
was left in its wake.

After the fires, there was
a massive push to rebuild London

and reestablish Roman authority
in the area.

So it could be that
the construction of the basilica

was approved quickly.

Upon completion,
it would have been

one of the most impressive
structures in Roman Britain,

a symbol of Rome's
unbreakable authority.

Just based
on its footprint alone,

there's no doubt the basilica
was an investment

in Rome's imperial presence.

And there's a convincing
argument to be made

that its construction sprang
out of the burning embers

of the Boudican Revolt.

But this doesn't explain its
demolition just decades later.

If the basilica was a tool to
display power, why destroy it?

One theory suggests
that the basilica

may have suddenly
outlived its usefulness

as London continued to evolve.

When the settlement of
Londinium was first established,

it was primarily inhabited
by merchants and traders.

But after the Boudican Revolt,
the population of the city

swelled to as many
as 60,000 people.

So maybe the basilica's original
architects had underestimated

just how powerful
and influential

Roman London would become
in the region.

It wasn't uncommon
for nations that were conquered

by the Romans to suddenly
experience rapid growth.

Elsewhere in the empire
at this time,

Gaul also went through
incredible advancements

within the space of 100 years.

Just like in Britain,
tribal regions were transformed

by an enormous investment
in Roman infrastructure,

like roads and villas, which
in turn led to urbanization

and prosperity in the region.

Around 20 or 30 years
after construction

of the London basilica
was completed,

it was probably obvious
to the Romans

that this once-magnificent
building had become obsolete,

and that a larger, more
ambitious administrative center

was needed to serve
the political and economic needs

of their expanding city.

It is strange to think
such an impressive structure

would have been seen as only
a temporary placeholder.

Why go to all that trouble
unless you were committed

to making a permanent
and long-lasting structure?

But the undeniable fact
is that the basilica was gone

within the span
of a single generation.

Researchers concede
that they have only

scratched the surface of
determining the brief lifespan

and use of London's
first basilica.

The basilica
may have been replaced

for a combination of reasons.

Perhaps it was built in a hurry

in order to project
a symbol of power

after a devastating rebellion,

and because of its
rapid construction,

the basilica may have suffered
from structural flaws.

Couple this with London's
sudden surge in growth

during the early part
of the 1st century,

and the basilicas' demolition

may have been
an inevitable outcome.

We're still early
enough in its excavation

that a significant portion
of the basilica

remains buried under the ground.

Who knows what other clues
may lie beneath the soil?

Until further
evidence can be found,

this monument
to Roman imperialism

remains a mystery that
has yet to be solved.

But for now, the true history
of London's first basilica

is yet to be written.

Around 60 miles south
of Copenhagen,

Falster Island lies along
Denmark's southeastern coast.

Falster, which is part
of the rural provincial region

of Lolland-Falster, is home
to about 100,000 people.

The island's flat with
great, fertile farmland,

and there are forests
concentrated in the center

and along the eastern shores.

In the medieval period,

Falster and the other
southern Danish islands

held strategic value
in the southwestern Baltic,

offering swift access
to major Slavic ports

and supporting lasting
political and economic ties

between Danish
and Slavic powers.

During the 12th
century, Falster had become

a destination for Slavic groups

displaced by Saxon
and German expansion.

Linguistic evidence
supports this,

with 27 place names on Falster

and 20 on neighboring Lolland

showing probable Slavic origins,

a sign of permanent settlement
and deep cultural integration.

In 2024, north of
the village of Eskilstrup

on Falster Island,
railway construction unearths

remarkable archaeological remains;

finds that challenge
long-held assumptions

about early Scandinavian life.

Excavation revealed
two substantial buildings

attributed to
the Funnel Beaker culture,

one of northern Europe's
earliest farming societies,

active from about
4,300 to 2,800 BCE.

The first had 38 postholes,
and the second 35,

and each measuring
roughly 40 by 14 feet.

Both buildings were built

with compacted loam floors;
that's a sand and clay mix

that was a state-of-the-art
construction material

for that period.

Radiocarbon dating places
the first building

between 3080 and 2780 BCE,

with the second building
built shortly afterwards,

around 2800 BCE.

Positioned
on elevated ground,

the buildings had
broad visibility

of the surrounding landscape

and protection from
seasonal flooding

caused by nearby
bogs and streams.

This choice shows
careful planning

and environmental awareness.

But what function did
these structures serve?

Were they simply homes,

or was there something else
going on here?

The site's
careful construction

and distinctive layout
have led some to wonder

if it served
a specialized role.

One standout feature is
a stone paved area,

set just over a foot
below ground level,

measuring roughly
six by five feet,

with partially
stone reinforced walls.

Inside, a dense cluster
of artifacts was found.

Could the combination
of its construction

and the artifacts point
to a ceremonial role?

In total, over 1,200
artifacts were found

clustered in and around
the sunken feature.

These included flint tools,
pottery fragments, burnt bones,

fire-cracked flint, and two
fossilized sea urchins

embedded in the floor layer.

This kind of mix is rarely found

in ordinary
Neolithic domestic sites,

which strengthens the case

it was built to serve
a ritual function.

Roughly 120 miles
northeast in southern Sweden,

another Funnel Beaker site

shows how Neolithic communities

could deliberately structure

spaces for ceremonial use.

At Hammar,
east of Kristianstad,

archaeologists uncovered
a semicircular enclosure

dating to around
3500 to 3000 BCE.

Measured about 160 feet across,

it was built
on the edge of a wetland,

and it contained elongated pits
up to five feet deep,

some of those lined with stones.

Now, based on the size of this
whole thing and the shape of it,

it seems most likely

that this was a central
gathering place for rituals.

Excavations found
Funnel Beaker pottery,

finely worked flint, horn tools,
a bone fishing hook,

and a leatherworking stylus,
along with animal bones

deliberately fractured
for marrow.

The finds suggest feasts
with ritual butchering,

and the deposition of offerings
both in the wetland

and in the open pits
of the enclosure,

evidence of repeated
organized practices.

At Hammar, vessels
were placed on stones

and bones were put
in specific pits,

forming a clear,
repeated ritual order.

At Eskilstrup, objects like
the sea urchins

could hint at symbolic meaning.

But without consistent patterns,

they may just as easily
reflect natural processes

like sedimentation.

Less than 250 miles
northeast of Falster,

in the Falbygden
region of Sweden,

one of Scandinavia's oldest
stone burial chambers

offers a clear comparison

for what confirmed
funerary use looks like.

At Tiarp,
archaeologists uncovered

an Early Neolithic dolmen
dating to around 3500 BCE,

up to 200 years older than other
passage graves in the area.

Built from large stones,

the chamber features
a recessed niche at each end--

a feature not typically seen

in the region's later
passage grave architecture.

The dolmen
held the remains

of at least a dozen individuals

that ranged in age from infants
to the elderly.

Now, no signs of violent death
were found,

but the larger bones,
like skulls and long bones,

are missing.

In typical megalithic graves,

it's usually the smaller bones
that are missing,

things like hands and feet.

So archaeologists speculate
that maybe what happened here

is that they were removed

as part of some kind
of burial ritual.

Even with its missing
skulls and large bones,

the Tiarp dolmen still shows
the unmistakable traits

of a Neolithic grave--

human remains in
a stone-built chamber.

Eskilstrup's sunken, stone-paved
feature shares a similar form,

but it lacks
the deliberate arrangements

we see at confirmed
burial sites,

which suggests it was built
for another purpose entirely.

If the space
wasn't symbolic,

several features point to
a more practical function.

The stone-paved
sunken chamber

shows careful,
deliberate construction.

In a time without refrigeration,
a subterranean space

could have maintained
stable, cool conditions

for storing grains, meat,
or dairy products.

So was it built to function
as an early cellar?

Subterranean cellars
naturally maintain

stable temperatures
and resist moisture;

conditions ideal for preserving
food across seasons.

The burnt bone fragments
inside the feature

support this possibility.

It could indicate the space
was tied to food processing.

If this was used
as a cellar,

that'd be a significant
breakthrough

in Neolithic
resource management.

Simple earth dug cellars
are known from this period,

but not ones that are
lined with stone.

This would be a very big deal.

About 2,000 miles
southeast in the Jordan Valley,

Neolithic communities developed

a different architectural
solution to the same problem.

At Dhra',
a pre-pottery Neolithic site,

excavations uncovered some of
the world's earliest granaries,

dating back over 11,000 years,
before full plant domestication.

These round structures,
about 10 feet across,

had elevated floors and
mud or stone retaining walls

to control airflow and moisture.

They were located
between houses,

meaning they likely served
the entire community.

The feature at
Eskilstrup on Falster Island

may reflect a domestic-scale
version of this principle.

While Dhra' granaries were built
for communal storage,

the Falster Island structure
could have met

a single household's needs.

If so, it shows how
early settlement architecture

was shaped by the need to manage
and protect food stores.

Ceramic disks
found at the site,

which have typically
been interpreted

as lids or baking plates, also
point to food prep or storage.

However, their placement
within the structure,

rather than in a clearly
defined domestic area,

complicates this interpretation

and raises questions
about whether the space

had additional functions
beyond storage.

In a region
where early farming

and hunter-gatherer practices
overlapped,

the site may reflect a more
complex model of domestic life.

About 250 feet north
of those structures,

archaeologists uncovered
seven straight rows

of small post holes running
north-south over 100 feet,

likely extending beyond
the excavated area.

Their even spacing
suggests fencing

rather than something
like a defensive wall.

So could all of this have been

part of a big, shared
living space?

At both ends
of the fence lines,

the spacing widens to 16 feet,

and along the southern boundary

a 10-foot gap framed
by larger posts

may have served
as a formal gateway.

This arrangement could
have guided movement

or separate areas,

possibly for livestock, storage,
food processing, or waste,

all features consistent

with the sedentary,
nucleated village life

characteristic
of Neolithic culture.

Over 350 miles
south of Falster,

near Kutná Hora
in the Czech Republic,

a Neolithic settlement provides
one of the clearest

preserved examples
of domestic architecture

and planned village layout.

At Dobren, a 7,000-year-old
Neolithic settlement,

excavations uncovered
the outlines

of four wooden longhouses,

each about 16 feet wide
and up to 65 feet long,

alongside pits that were
first dug for clay

and later repurposed for water.

Artifact groupings
include cooking

and storage pottery,

flint blades for hunting
and harvesting,

and polished stone axes
and milling stones.

All evidence of
food production, carpentry,

and other household activities.

The settlement's location
between two streams

provided fresh water,

but sat on soil too poor
for long-term farming.

Dobren's combination
of longhouse architecture,

domestic tools, and clearly
defined refuse areas

points to a clearly
settled community.

Falster shares elements
of that organization,

but it lacks the clearly
preserved longhouse structures,

and that leaves
its true purpose uncertain.

We may never know whether
it was domestic or ceremonial

or something else.

In the end, Falster
offers no definitive answers.

Its design shows
planning and intent,

but its role in the Neolithic
landscape remains a mystery.