Archaeologists working in Egypt have discovered a remarkable combination of Homeric epic and Egyptian ritual: a 2,000-year-old mummy with a papyrus fragment of the “Iliad” sealed in a clay packet outside its wrappings.

It is the first time a literary work has been found playing a functional, spiritual role in the mummification process. And it suggests that for a Roman-era Egyptian, the “Iliad” — specifically some lines from Book 2’s “Catalogue of Ships” — was perhaps as crucial for navigating the afterlife as a magical spell.

“The find is incredibly significant, primarily for the discovery of such a papyrus with Greek literary text in its original context,” said Foy Scalf, an Egyptologist at the University of Chicago. “We have evidence that such Greek literary texts could be used as magical amulets and that Homer was frequently cited in such amulets, as well as in the large handbooks now known as ‘The Greco-Egyptian Formularies.’ The new find directly supports that indirect knowledge.”

The mummy, a nonroyal male, was unearthed by the Mission of the University of Barcelona at a burial site known as Oxyrhynchus, as part of a project directed by Ignasi-Xavier Adiego of the university’s Institute of Ancient Near East. Leah Mascia, a specialist in the written and material culture of Greco-Roman and Late Antique Egypt at the Free University of Berlin, coordinated the collaborative breakthrough that finally brought the damaged text to light.

Recognizing that the heavily degraded papyrus required careful analysis, Dr. Mascia worked with a conservator, Margalida Munar, to stabilize the artifact, and Dr. Adiego, an authority on the Carian language, to study the text. Together, their combined expertise in preservation and linguistics allowed them to identify and read the document.

After six years of painstakingly reconstructing tomb fragments, Dr. Mascia uncovered a rare moment of cultural alchemy: Roman Egypt, where foreign and local customs merged. Her analysis, which identified embalmer seals and folding patterns of the papyrus packet, suggests that classical Greek epics were not merely read but physically repurposed.

Traditionally, mummified bodies were buried with sepulchral texts like the “Book of the Dead” and “The Book of Breathing,” formulaic manuals intended to protect and guide the deceased through the underworld. Yet, by the early Roman period, a major shift emerged: the introduction of sealed papyrus packets placed upon the dead.

These new packets contained a surprising mix of texts, including Greco-Egyptian magic, documentary records and even literary works like the “Iliad,” indicating a personalized, alternative funerary practice.

Out of the dumps

The Oxyrhynchus necropolis, located near the modern village of El-Bahnasa about 120 miles south of Cairo, is not just a burial site but an archaeological mother lode. Located on the banks of the Bahr Yussef canal, the area is speckled with ancient garbage dumps that managed to preserve everything from wedding invitations and tax records to horoscopes and early Christian gospels.

The ruins of Oxyrhynchus were initially documented by Vivant Denon, a scholar during Napoleon’s 1798 Egyptian campaign. But they held a secret that remained buried for an additional century, until 1896, when British archaeologists dug up more than 400,000 fragments of papyri from the ancient trash heaps. The discoveries ultimately included lost masterworks by poets and playwrights like Sappho and Euripides, transforming millenniums-old refuse into a cornerstone of classical literature.

In the 1990s, the Mission of the University of Barcelona and the University of Cairo began a joint project largely funded by the Spanish Ministry of Culture and the Egyptian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities. This ongoing mission, directed by Maite Mascort i Roca and Esther Pons Mellado and staffed by archaeologists, epigraphists and papyrologists, focuses on various sectors of the necropolis, including No. 22, where experts are reconstructing the elaborate social and religious life of residents during the transition from the Ptolemaic to the Roman era.

Researchers exploring the multichambered burial site have exhumed a remarkable trove of treasures, among them mummies adorned with golden tongues — gold foil placed over the mouth — and at least one with copper, ritualistic additions that may have ensured that the dead could confidently speak their case to Osiris, the god of death and resurrection, before judgment.

A separate, distinct area of the necropolis — Sector 42 — has yielded large jars containing cremated remains. One vessel held the bones of an adult, an infant and a feline, along with fabric fragments. While these individuals most likely date to a slightly different period from the “Iliad” mummy, the immense complexity of these rites implies a wealthy, status-conscious class, providing fresh insight into the spiritual anxieties of the Roman-era community.

A cultural passport

Recovered in December from Tomb 65, the fragmentary papyrus packet contains a passage from the 2,800-year-old “Iliad” that functions as a detailed inventory of the Achaean army’s naval strength and regional origins, describing the forces arrayed against Troy to retrieve Helen. The text mentions specific commanders, such as Guneus, who arrived with “two and twenty ships from Cyphus,” and Tlepolemus, a “son of Hercules” who brought nine ships from Rhodes.

Dr. Mascia’s findings reveal a deliberate, intimate act: a document prepared in a mummification workshop and placed directly upon the body of the deceased. “These sealed papyrus packets may have been regarded as part of an alternative funerary procedure,” she said, adding that further studies were essential to prove this hypothesis.

This spiritual first-aid follows a long tradition. Dr. Scalf noted that “The Greco-Egyptian Formularies” even suggests the “Iliad” doubled as a literal medical kit. For a bed-bound patient shivering with malaria, the prescription was simple: Brace your head against a papyrus scroll of Book 4 to break the fever.

For residents navigating the complex, vibrant crossroads of Roman Egypt, Greek literary papyri may have functioned as a crucial cultural passport, said Anna Dolganov, a historian at the Austrian Archaeological Institute. In Egypt, being Hellenic connoted an exclusive social status and financial privilege — and had to be meticulously documented through genealogies going back across several centuries.

Buried with the dead, the “Iliad” perhaps served as a cheat code for a more comfortable afterlife. Dr. Dolganov wonders if carrying the epic poem was a deliberate strategy to secure entry into the Greek underworld, effectively sidestepping the torturous trials of Egyptian mythology. For these individuals, a Hellenic identity wasn’t just for this world — it was an eternal upgrade, offering a smoother path and higher status in the great beyond.

In a scrubby forest an hour outside the Lithuanian capital on a recent day this spring, excavators were digging ditches and tree harvesters were whirring in an effort to restore a waterlogged, mosquito-infested ecosystem that was drained in the Soviet era.

The reason is twofold: to help the climate and to defend the country from invasion.

The area was once a vast peat bog, and peat bogs are highly efficient at storing planet-warming carbon dioxide. They also happen to be very good at stopping tanks, because the spongy soil can’t support the weight of armored vehicles. The tanks get stuck and sink, often permanently.

Tomas Godliauskas, the Lithuanian vice minister of defense, said the bogs would form “an integral defensive line” when combined with other military tactics. The project also has the advantage of being relatively cheap compared with other measures like tank ditches and minefields, he added.

Lithuania isn’t the only European Union country using bogs to deter a Russian invasion. Latvia and Finland, for example, are also seeking to restore bogs for both environmental and defense purposes. And Ukrainian bogs helped to delay Russian troops in a failed push toward Kyiv in 2022.

Richard Hooker, a former director at the National Security Council who’s now a senior fellow at the Atlantic Council, a research organization based in Washington that focuses on international security, said peatland restoration could play an important role in Lithuania’s defense against an invasion from the east.

He noted that only one major highway runs from Minsk, in Byelorussia, to the Lithuanian capital, Vilnius, and that the Russian Army is heavily mechanized, without the kind of light infantry units that the U.S. Army has. That means restored, impassible peat bogs would force invading troops onto roads and trails, where they would be more vulnerable.

“The idea that you can use natural obstacles to tie in with man-made obstacles to slow down an attacker is an excellent one,” Mr. Hooker said. “A lot more could be done than has been done, but the early signs anyway are promising.”

The hazards of the bogs were illustrated in March last year, when a 70-ton M88 armored recovery vehicle from the U.S. Army sank during a training exercise near Pabrade, a city in eastern Lithuania near the border with Belarus. Four crew members died.

The bog restoration project is part of Lithuania’s total defense doctrine, a security strategy mobilizing the military, civilian and private sectors to be prepared in case of Russian aggression. The country is looking to restore 6,000 hectares of peatlands, Mr. Godliauskas said.

But it’s about more than just defending the border. It’s also about carbon capture.

Peat bogs form when oxygen-poor conditions in wetlands prevent bacteria and fungi from fully breaking down organic matter like plants and dead animals. In Lithuania, some of the resulting peat was extracted by the Soviet authorities to burn in power plants and to expand agriculture.

The restoration effort is a priority across multiple agencies in the government, said Aira Paliukenaite, Lithuania’s vice minister of the environment. The ministry is planning for restoration to continue for the next 30 years as a part of its policy of aligning with the European Union’s Nature Restoration Law.

That measure requires every country in the bloc to implement a plan, with targets, to mitigate carbon emissions and restore biodiversity and habitats in the coming decades.

Lithuania appears to be in a good starting position. The country still has large quantities of undisturbed peat underground. By rewetting it, officials said they could transform the land back into a what’s known as a carbon sink, or storage system, because peat can lock away carbon for much longer than forests can.

It’s not a simple process, though. The technical planning and site preparation can take years. The projects are still in the early stages, especially those along the border, but they are starting to work with nongovernmental groups like the Foundation for Peatland Restoration and Conservation.

While some in the country are skeptical about the restoration process and its efficacy, others are welcoming the plan.

Albertas Lakstauskas, 52, a teacher and politician, has lived his whole life in Zasliai, a small town near one of the foundation’s projects, the restoration of about 150 acres of drained land where peat was extracted to supply energy to the Soviet Union.

Mr. Lakstauskas said he, like some others in the town, was doubtful that peat bogs alone could stop a Russian invasion, but he said he thought supporting the environment was a matter of national pride.

“If we can do some things to do better, I think that’s a good opportunity,” he said. “And I choose to participate.”