Ancient Rome

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The World of The Blood Road – Part III – Communis Patria: The Constitutio Antoniniana

Welcome back to The World of The Blood Road! 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this blog series so far. If you missed Part II on travel and transportation in the Roman Empire, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part III, we’re going to take a brief look at one of the more unique acts of Emperor Caracalla: The Constitutio Antoninia.

As we shall see, this act had pros and cons, and it’s effects on the Roman world were far-reaching.

When we think about Emperor Caracalla, it’s hard to think of anything but blood and violence. After all, he may have begun his reign with a massacre in York, and then committed fratricide and ordered mass executions when he returned to Rome from Britannia.

The beginning of his reign was also punctuated by another act that has caused some debate among scholars over the years.

In A.D. 212, shortly after murdering his brother, Caracalla created an edict named the Constitutio Antoniniana which was, according to eminent historian, Michael Grant, “one of the outstanding features of the period, although whether it seemed the same to contemporaries is uncertain.”

So, what was the Constitutio Antoniniana? Why was it created? And what were the effects of this curious piece of legislation?

Let’s take each of these questions in turn.

Giessen Papyrus 40 of the Constitutio Antoniniana

Basically, the Constitutio Antoniniana was an edict that granted citizenship to all freeborn men and women within the Roman Empire.

Think about that for a moment… 

Whereas before, Roman citizenship had been primarily held by few, namely those who were from Italy itself, it was now held by every free man and woman across the whole of the Roman world. The only ones who appear to have been excluded were a group known as the dediticii, thought to be tribesman beyond the Danube and Euphrates frontiers who had recently been conquered by Rome.

This act had far-reaching impacts which we will look at shortly, but why was it created, and why at that particular moment in time?

There are a few possibilities.

Map of the Roman Empire at its greatest extent (Oxford Research Encyclopedias)

During the reign of Septimius Severus, Caracalla’s father, it is important to remember there there was a general shift happening, a more egalitarian movement in policy-making that sought to embrace all inhabitants of the Empire. Severus had previously, made drastic changes within the army itself by allowing legionaries to marry and by making it possible for men of equestrian status to move higher in the ranks into positions normally reserved for the senatorial class. This was the case for Lucius Metellus Anguis in the Eagles and Dragons series.

It is possible that Caracalla’s Constitutio Antoniniana was a next step in what was already his father’s policy-making direction. Let’s remember that Severus himself had been from Leptis Magna in Africa Proconsularis.

It is also important to remember that after the fall of the Praetorian prefect, Gaius Fulvius Plautianus, Septimius Severus appointed the legal jurists, Papinianus and Ulpianus as joint Praetorian prefects, clearly with a view to using their skills in drafting legislation. Of course, Papinianus perished during Caracalla’s proscriptions at the outset of his reign, but Ulpianus almost certainly had a hand in drafting the Constitutio Antoniniana.

It was a major step in the creation of the first, Roman Communis Patria, a commonwealth in which provincials and Italians were now on equal footing. This would have appealed to Caracalla as well, for he was obsessed with Alexander the Great who had sought to create a grand, pan-Hellenic world. Caracalla sought to emulate Alexander, and this may have been an extension of that obsession. 

Apart from being in line with Severus’ policies, however, it is quite possible that one of the main reasons Caracalla issued this edict at that time was to distract the world from the murder of his brother, Geta.

As discussed in Part I of this series, fratricide was frowned upon, even though Rome’s founding was based on such an act (poor Remus!). 

The She-Wolf suckling the brothers, Romulus and Remus

But we would be doing ourselves a disservice if we explained the creation of this important legislation by saying it was merely a distraction from murder. It had other uses.

As we know, after his brother’s murder, Caracalla needed to secure his position, and so he emptied the imperial coffers in order to bribe the Praetorian Guard and give more money to the legions. His father had always taught him that ensuring the loyalty of the military was of utmost importance, and this is exactly what Caracalla did. But it left him with few funds.

So, by granting citizenship to all freeborn men and women across the Empire, he instantly increased the tax revenues many times over. Citizens had to pay manumission and inheritance taxes to the state, and his tax collectors no doubt set about their work.

Roman Re-enactors on the March

Another important aspect of the Constitutio Antoniniana is that by greatly increasing the citizenry, many more men could enlist in Rome’s legions. To be a legionary, one had to be a Roman citizen, and previously, anyone not a citizen could only join the army as an auxiliary. It is possible that with his military goals in Germania, and perhaps for other campaigns to come, Caracalla was seeking to bolster Rome’s military, though his father had done that to a large extent already.

Lastly, we cannot ignore the possibility that the Constitutio Antoniniana may partly have been a play for popularity by Caracalla. With rumours of his brother’s murder circulating, he needed to win some popular appeal, and so this grand gesture of granting citizenship would have – he probably hoped – ingratiated him to those outside of Italy, while perhaps the increased tax revenues might have won him some support within the Italian peninsula.

Even people on the edge of the Empire were affected by the Constitutio Antoniniana.

Strangely enough, there is not much mention of the Constitutio Antoniniana, no great commemoration of the event. Why is that?

One reason may be that Caracalla was simply not liked. Certainly, contemporaries such as Cassius Dio, our main source for the period, did not like him and would never sing his praises.

Another possibility for the silence around the creation of the Constitutio Antoniniana could be that its effects upon the Empire left a lot to be desired.

What then were the effects of this important legislation on the Roman world?

Certainly for many, Roman citizenship would have been a boon, for it had always been a prized possession. For a provincial being granted equal status to an Italian, it would have seemed a good thing on the surface. Certainly, it had a levelling effect in the law courts where the law treated citizens differently to non-citizens.

Increased taxation, however, would have been a bitter pill to swallow for anyone, and this would not have been welcomed.

A relief thought to portray Roman tax collectors

When it comes to the military which Caracalla and his father so relied upon, the Constitution Antoniniana did increase the pool from which Caracalla could recruit legionaries, but there was a negative side to this as well.

It now became harder to attract ambitious people into the army, because now all soldiers were citizens. The non-citizen auxiliaries that made up the important cavalry alae, forces of archers, slingers and others, now ceased to exist. There were still native formations of numeri, but the army was permanently changed and now, being open to all, the desirability of being a Roman legionary was fast dwindling.

Lastly, by granting citizenship to all freeborn people across the whole of the Empire, Roman citizenship itself was now cheapened by the Severans’ equalizing tendencies. Citizenship had its privileges, including access to higher civilian and military offices. Now, however, this was greatly watered down, and the few who previously possessed citizenship would now have to compete with many more for prized positions.

This is perhaps one of the greatest impacts of the Constitutio Antoniniana. With the loss in status of citizenship over the following years after A.D. 212, a new elite began to evolve. It was no longer about citizens and non-citizens, or Romans vs. provincials. Rather, class distinction came to the forefront across the Empire with the formation of the honestiores and humiliores classes. Eventually, this class distinction became law, and where honestiores enjoyed legal privileges, the humiliores suffered more severe punishments. It is almost as if the entire Empire was regressing to the time when there was division among Patricians and Plebeians in Republican Rome.

When one reads this, it is hard not to wonder whether such class distinctions are a natural human state or tendency, but that’s a debate for another time.

Debate in the Senate over the Constitutio Antoniniana must have been furious. (Senate scene from the movie Fall of the Roman Empire, 1964)

I can’t help but admire – in an idealistic, and perhaps naive way – the equalizing goals of the Constitutio Antoniniana. After all, isn’t that something we are still striving for today? It is often at the heart of many modern political debates.

However, it is difficult for us – as it was, I suspect, for Caracalla’s contemporaries – to get past the man that Emperor Caracalla was, and the actions he had taken at the outset of his reign. He had proved himself to be cruel and spiteful. He was not a good emperor. And so, it is possible that anything ‘good’ that he might have attempted was probably lost behind a scrim of blood.

Despite its strong democratic note, the Constitutio Antoniniana is also believed, by some, to be one of the causes for the degeneration of the Roman Empire.

What do you think? Let us know in the comments below.

Tune in for Part IV in The World of The Blood Road when we will be looking briefly at the Praetorian Guard and the Castra Praetoria, in Rome.

Thank you for reading.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also purchase directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

 

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The World of The Blood Road – Part I – Caracalla: Emperor and Murderer

Salvete, Readers and Romanophiles!

Welcome to this first post in our exciting new blog series The World of The Blood Road! In this nine-part series, we’re going to be taking a look at some of the history, people, and places that appear and provide the settings for this sixth book in the #1 best selling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.

If you’re a fan of the series, and don’t want any spoilers at all (such as where the story will lead you across the Empire), then you may wish to hold off until you’ve read the book.

However, if you just want to get stuck into the history and research that went into this novel, read on! We hope you enjoy it!

Emperor Caracalla

When we look at lists of Rome’s emperors, inevitably there are a few names that jump out at us because of their infamy and the brutality of their deeds. Emperors such as Caligula or Commodus might stand out to some. But, the beginning of the 3rd century A.D. is no less marred by the presence of another such Roman Emperor: Caracalla.

Fans of the Eagles and Dragons series will already be familiar with the bloody deeds which Caracalla may have perpetrated in Eburacum after the death of his father, Septimius Severus. If you missed the post on mass murder in Roman York, you can read that by CLICKING HERE. 

After the death of Severus, Caracalla and his brother, Geta, became co-emperors, and each of them hurried back to Rome separately to establish their own power at the heart of the Empire.

This tumultuous beginning to their reign is where The Blood Road begins.

Septimius Severus

It could be said that Caracalla and Geta’s father, Septimius Severus, was the only great emperor of the Severan dynasty. However, even good emperors can have major flaws and, like Marcus Aurelius before him, Severus’ greatest flaw was, perhaps, that he trusted in his sons far too much.

One theory about the Caledonian campaign is that Severus saw it as a way to force his sons to mend their troubled ways and end their squabbling. But this did not have the intended outcome. As soon as Severus died, people braced themselves for the inevitable quarrel between the two brothers. Cassius Dio describes the scene in Rome when the two emperors returned from Caledonia:

As for his own brother, Antoninus had wished to slay him even while his father was yet alive, but had been unable to do so at the time because of Severus, or later, on the march, because of the legions; for the troops felt very kindly toward the younger brother, especially as he resembled his father very closely in appearance. But when Antoninus got back to Rome, he made away with him also. The two pretended to love and commend each other, but in all that they did they were diametrically opposed, and anyone could see that something terrible was bound to result from the situation. This was foreseen even before they reached Rome. For when the senate had voted that sacrifices should be offered on behalf of their concord both to the other gods and to Concord herself, and the assistants had got ready the victim to be sacrificed to Concord and the consul had arrived to superintend the sacrifice, neither he could find them nor they him, but they spent nearly the entire night in searching for one another, so that the sacrifice could not be performed then.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, LXXVIII-1)

Rare bust of Geta in the Louvre (Wikimedia Commons)

There was even talk of ill-omens within the city, specifically one mentioned by Cassius Dio in which “two wolves went up on the Capitol, but were chased away from there; one of them was found and slain somewhere in the Forum and the other was killed later outside the pomerium. This incident also had reference to the brothers.”

In the middle of the tense stand-off between the two brothers was their mother, Julia Domna, who was constantly seeking to reconcile her sons, just as her husband had.

Julia Domna

When, according to Herodian, the brothers devised a pretence of dividing up the Empire that their father had worked so tirelessly to unite, Julia Domna pleaded with them:

As the brothers were now completely at odds in even the most trivial matters, their mother undertook to effect a reconciliation.

And at that time they concluded that it was best to divide the empire, to avoid remaining in Rome and continuing their intrigues. Summoning the advisers appointed by their father, with their mother present too, they decided to partition the empire: Caracalla to have all Europe, and Geta all the lands lying opposite Europe, the region known as Asia.

For, they said, the two continents were separated by the Propontic Gulf as if by divine foresight. It was agreed that Caracalla establish his headquarters at Byzantium, with Geta’s at Chalcedon in Bithynia; the two stations, on opposite sides of the straits, would guard each empire and prevent any crossings at that point. They decided too that it was best that the European senators remain in Rome, and those from the Asiatic regions accompany Geta.

For his capital city, Geta said that either Antioch or Alexandria would be suitable, since, in his opinion, neither city was much inferior in size to Rome. Of the Southern provinces, the lands of the Moors, the Numidians, and the adjacent Libyans were given to Caracalla, and the regions east of these peoples were allotted to Geta.

While they were engaged in cleaving the empire, all the rest kept their eyes fixed on the ground, but Julia cried out: “Earth and sea, my children, you have found a way to divide, and, as you say, the Propontic Gulf separates the continents. But your mother, how would you parcel her? How am I, unhappy,  wretched – how am I to be torn and ripped asunder for the pair of you? Kill me first, and after you have claimed your share, let each one perform the funeral rites for his portion. Thus would I, too, together with earth and sea, be partitioned between you.”

After saying this, amid tears and lamentations, Julia stretched out her hands and, clasping them both in her arms, tried to reconcile them. And with all pitying her, the meeting adjourned and the project was abandoned. Each youth returned to his half of the imperial palace.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.3)

Sadly, it seems the Goddess Concord turned her back on the situation, just as Caracalla and Geta had turned their backs on her. Rome’s ‘wolves’ were determined to destroy each other, and each was aware of plots against him. They both became obsessed and paranoid (perhaps rightly so) and as Herodian tells us: “They tried every sort of intrigue; each, for example, attempted to persuade the other’s cooks and cupbearers to administer some deadly poison. It was not easy for either one to succeed in these attempts, however: both were exceedingly careful and took many precautions. Finally, unable to endure the situation any longer and maddened by the desire for sole power, Caracalla decided to act…”

Palace of Septimius Severus, Palatine Hill, Rome (photo by Lasse Lofstrom; Trek Earth)

Throughout the history of Rome, there have been many heinous acts perpetrated by emperors, but what happened next is perhaps near the top of the list.

Frustrated by another failed attempt upon Geta’s life at Saturnalia in A.D. 211, Caracalla decided enough was enough:

Antoninus [Caracalla] induced his mother to summon them both, unattended, to her apartment, with a view to reconciling them. Thus Geta was persuaded, and went in with him; but when they were inside, some centurions, previously instructed by Antoninus, rushed in a body and struck down Geta, who at sight of them had run to his mother, hung about her neck and clung to her bosom and breasts, lamenting and crying: “Mother that didst bear me, mother that didst bear me, help! I am being murdered.” And so she, tricked in this way, saw her son perishing in the most impious fashion in her arms, and received him at his death into the very womb, as it were, whence he had been born; for she was all covered with his blood, so that she took no note of the wound she had received on her hand. But she was not permitted to mourn or weep for her son, though he had met so miserable an end before his time…she alone, the Augusta, wife of the emperor and mother of the emperors, was not permitted to shed tears even in private over so great a sorrow.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, LXXVIII-2)

Geta Dying in his Mother’s Arms by Jacques-Augustin-Catherine Pajou, Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart, Germany (Wikimedia Commons)

Dio tells us that Caracalla ordered the centurions to murder Geta, and Herodian says that Caracalla did the deed himself. Either way, it seems that Geta bled to death in his mother’s arms.

Fratricide was highly frowned upon, and Caracalla knew that Geta had a lot of supporters among the people, the senators, and in the legions. Herodian tells us that he fled, under guard, to the Praetorian camp where he explained to the troops that he had escaped a plot against his life, and that the Gods had chosen him as sole emperor.

In gratitude for his deliverance and in return for the sole rule, he promised each soldier 2,500 denarii and increased their ration allowance by one-half. He ordered the praetorians to go immediately and take the money from the temple depositories and the treasuries. In a single day he recklessly distributed all the money which Severus had collected and hoarded from the calamities of others over a period of eighteen years.

When they heard about this vast amount of money, although they were aware of what had actually occurred, the murder having been made common knowledge by fugitives from the palace, the praetorians at once proclaimed Caracalla emperor and called Geta enemy.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.4)

After this bloody act, when he emerged from the protection of the Castra Praetoria with his guard, Caracalla set about securing his position as sole emperor with further acts of blood.

In a long series of proscriptions, with the legions and Praetorian Guard behind him, safely purchased with all of the funds he could muster, Caracalla set about eliminating anyone who could pose a potential threat, or even whisper a word against him:

Of the imperial freedmen and soldiers who had been with Geta he immediately put to death some twenty thousand, men and women alike, wherever in the palace any of them happened to be; and he slew various distinguished men…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, LXXVIII-4)

Many perished with the beginning of Caracalla’s sole rule as emperor, and one wonders if he ever lived that down. His father’s past advice about securing the loyalty of the legions was, it seemed, the only thing that saved him, at least for a time. No matter one’s station, anyone with a passing connection to Geta was slain, and the list is a lengthy one, according to Herodian:

Geta’s friends and associates were immediately butchered, together with those who lived in his half of the imperial palace. All his attendants were put to death too; not a single one was spared because of his age, not even the infants. Their bodies, after first being dragged about and subjected to every form of indignity, were placed in carts and taken out of the city; there they were piled up and burned or simply thrown in the ditch.

No one who had the slightest acquaintance with Geta was spared: athletes, charioteers, and singers and dancers of every type were killed. Everything that Geta kept around him to delight eye and ear was destroyed. Senators distinguished because of ancestry or wealth were put to death as friends of Geta upon the slightest unsupported charge of an unidentified accuser.

He killed Commodus’ sister [Cornificia], then an old woman, who as the daughter of Marcus had been treated with honour by all the emperors. Caracalla offered as his reason for murdering her the fact that she had wept with his mother over the death of Geta. His wife [Plautilla], the daughter of Plautianus, who was then in Sicily; his first cousin Severus; the son of Pertinax; the son of Lucilla, Commodus’ sister [Pompeianus]; in fact, anyone who belonged to the imperial family and any senator of distinguished ancestry, all were cut down to the last one. 

Then, sending his assassins to the provinces, he put to death the governors and procurators friendly to Geta. Each night saw the murder of men in every walk of life. He burned Vestal Virgins alive because they were unchaste. Finally, the emperor did something that had never been done before; while he was watching a chariot race, the crowd insulted the charioteer he favoured. Believing this to be a personal attack, Caracalla ordered the Praetorian Guard to attack the crowd and lead off and kill those shouting insults at his driver.

The praetorians, given authority to use force and to rob, but no longer able to identify those who had shouted so recklessly (it was impossible to find them in so large a mob, since no one admitted his guilt), took out those they managed to catch and either killed them or, after taking whatever they had as ransom, spared their lives, but reluctantly.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.6)

Despite the bloodbath, Caracalla was not yet finished with his brother, and what he did next was, perhaps, indicative of the extreme hatred he had for Geta.

Caracalla now sought to fully erase his brother Geta’s very existence from the historical record in an act that has come to be called, in modern times, damnatio memoriae, the ‘condemnation of memory’.

All across the empire Geta’s name was ordered to be struck from documents and his image erased or destroyed in paintings, statuary, upon monuments, and coinage. Anywhere Geta appeared, he was to be erased.

Portrait of the Severan family with Geta’s face erased.

Due to the bloody start to his reign, Emperor Caracalla’s infamy was now solidified. His survival was due mainly to the loyalty of the troops, but as we shall see later in this blog series, even that would last for a finite amount of time. Caracalla was not his father, Septimius Severus, and he would prove that to the world he was so desperate to rule. It would only be a matter of time before his enemies caught up with him.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this first post in The World of The Blood Road blog series. Stayed tuned for Part II in which we will look at travel and transportation in the Roman Empire.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also buy direct from Eagles and Dragons Publishing for any device HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

Thank you for reading.

 

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Ambition in the Roman Republic – A guest post by A. David Singh

Salvete Romanophiles!

We have a special guest post on Writing the Past this week!

Author, A David Singh is here to talk to us about the idea of ambition in Roman society. We may not be surprised by the fact that Romans were ambitious – one doesn’t build an empire without ambition – but ambition took different forms for people at all levels of Roman society. David has done an excellent job of outlining this, so be sure to keep reading!

If you haven’t read David’s previous guest post about slavery in ancient Rome, then you should also read that by clicking HERE.

For now, it’s time to learn all about Roman ambition!

Ambition in the Roman Republic

By A. David Singh

As some of history’s pre-eminent over-achievers, ancient Romans championed a quality that transformed their city-state to the foremost civilization of antiquity: ambition!   

At its core lay the desire for wealth, power, and prestige. In that respect it was no different from ambition as seen in today’s world. 

Let’s start by looking at this need to create a better life among those at the lowest rung of the Roman strata.

Slaves

Slaves were not citizens of Rome. Not only were they denied statehood, they were also stripped of personhood. Roman society considered them as mere objects or possessions—with no more agency than a piece of furniture or cattle.

Given these circumstances, one might be tempted to imagine slaves as men and women devoid of ambition, with no hope for rising above their lot in life. But that was hardly the case.

Most slaves harboured one viable ambition—to break free from the shackles of slavery and become Roman citizens. 

The Slave Market – oil painting by Gustave Boulanger, 1886 (Wikimedia Commons)

If a slave showed the “right” attitude toward his servitude and discharged his duties satisfactorily—these attributes being open to interpretation by the masters—the slave could be set free by appearing before a magistrate. Once the magistrate had confirmed that the slave was a freedman, the master would slap the slave as a final insult before he started his new life.

Quite often, masters bequeathed freedom to their slaves in their wills. Rarely, slaves could earn their own freedom if they were able to raise enough coin to buy themselves out of slavery. 

The process of becoming freedmen and freedwomen was called manumission.

Because house slaves worked in direct contact with their masters, they could endear themselves to those who held power over them. As a result, house slaves had a better chance of getting manumitted compared to those working on country estates and in mines.

Once manumitted, the slaves transitioned into freedmen/freedwomen, and became citizens of the great city of Rome. Now they were deemed human, and not objects anymore—a significant upgrade in their station.

Freedmen and freedwomen

As citizens, freedmen and freedwomen were entitled to all the civil rights in Rome. However, they were not entirely free of their former masters. Those masters exercised some degree of hold over them by becoming their patrons. 

As patrons, the former masters helped them make strides within the Roman society—by opening doors and helping them both financially and professionally. In return, the clients (freedmen and freedwomen) had to provide services to their patrons, most of which involved either making the patrons wealthier, or by extending their patrons’ prestige further into Roman society. 

Freedmen could not hold political office. So they endeavoured to make a better life for themselves through other means. The easiest avenue was to acquire wealth from business ventures.  

Rome was filled with waves of such newly manumitted freedmen eager to make their mark. Blacksmiths, butchers, barbers, cloth-merchants, and tradesmen dotted the over-populated city, with a singular goal in their minds: make more coin! 

Some even amassed their own slaves—the more slaves a man had, the more prestigious he was considered. This was their way to prove their “equality” to the society that had once enslaved them.

Over time, rich freedmen started marrying into traditional but impoverished Roman families. This became a cultural norm, as it proved to be of mutual benefit—the old Roman families became richer, thanks to the nouveau riche, while the freedmen elevated their prestige and circle of influence.

Even though the freedmen and freedwomen (or children born to them before manumission) could not hold political office, that was not the case for children born to them after they’d gained freedom. Many freedmen and freedwomen encouraged these children to hold political office, thereby vicariously fulfilling their own ambition through their children.

Lastly, the option to join the Roman legions was readily available. Rome was an ever-expanding war machine, eager to recruit men younger than forty-five years. As a legionary, a young freedman could travel the Roman world, earn coin, and even rise to become a centurion. All in all, that was a good plan, unless one was unlucky enough to feel the pointy end of a barbarian’s sword.

The Roman legions

Legionaries—or the foot-soldiers—were the lowest rank in the Roman legion. They fell into several categories, although these categories did not have official standing. 

If a legionary held a modicum of ambition, he’d aspire to become an immunis—or a legionary with special skills, like carpentry or weapon-making. It was even better if he could read and write. He could then become a clerk and be responsible for communications and record-keeping. 

Becoming an immunis allowed one to leave the common herd behind, along with all the menial tasks like latrine duty and heavy-lifting. Though this was only a minor step-up in prestige, it was not an unattractive one by any standard. 

A legionary with no aptitude for special skills aspired to become a principalis. Examples include a tesserarius, who was responsible for sentry duty, and an optio—who was the second-in-command of a century.

Though the salary of a legionary did not increase with these step-ups, any legionary mindful of his dignity and prestige aimed to climb this unofficial hierarchy. His reputation and influence within the legion played a critical role in his ascent. 

Roman legionaries marching in uniform, re-enactment (courtesy Pixabay)

The first official non-legionary rank was a centurion. Principales stood the best chance of becoming centurions. 

Centurions were the backbone of the legion. They were responsible for the day-to-day activities of their legionaries, escorting prisoners, and conducting diplomatic missions. During battle, centurions led the charge alongside their men.

Interestingly enough, not all centurions in a legion were equal (or, to borrow from Animal Farm, some were more equal than others). The centurion of the 1st century, 1st cohort (Primus Pilus) was the senior-most, while the centurion of the 6th century, 10th cohort ranked the lowest. Among other privileges, this gradation determined who got the best seat in a tavern, and who was the last to conduct a fatigue party in the rain. 

That’s prestige on raw display, isn’t it?

The annual salary of a legionary was 1,200 sesterces, and a centurion’s was 20,000 sesterces. The Primus Pilus commanded a whopping 100,000 sesterces (during the 1st & 2nd centuries CE).

While a legionary—upon becoming a centurion—might feel satisfied with his progress up the ladder, that was likely to be the last stop in his career. The ranks above a centurion were populated by men of senatorial classes.

The only exception was the Camp Prefect, or Praefectus castrorum, who outranked the military tribunes (we’ll meet them shortly). The camp prefect was chosen from long-standing centurions of a legion, and would have likely been a Primus Pilus in the past. As the third senior-most officer in a legion—outranked only by the Legatus and Tribunus laticlavius—he was responsible for training and equipment, and held the command of his legion in his superiors’ absence.

And that brings us to the senatorial classes.

Senators and the Path of Honours

During the early republican period, senators were a group of unelected men who advised the magistrates. From the 3rd century BCE onwards, the senate increased its power, and virtually functioned as the government of Rome by exercising control over the assemblies and the magistrates.

Education in rhetoric and experience in law were considered essential preparations for political life. And boys from prominent families were groomed from an early age in these disciplines.

Young men harbouring senatorial aspirations might even join the legions as military tribunes. They were responsible for the administrative duties of their legions. Military tribunes outranked the centurions, but were below the camp prefect.

Their military competence varied (some may have had prior experience in auxiliary units), but what remained constant was their shark-like determination to ascend the Path of Honours.

The Path of Honours (Cursus Honorum) as in the time of Julius Caesar – 1st century BCE (courtesy C. K. Ruppelt – Wikimedia Commons)

Elected officials in the republic were called magistrates. Once a man was elected to his first magistracy, he was automatically admitted to the Senate. 

Quaestores were the lowest magistrates, responsible for the state and military treasuries. They were stationed in Rome and its provinces, and were also embedded in the legions. 

On the next rung were aediles, who supervised public works—repair of temples, streets, sewers, public buildings, and aqueducts. They were in charge of markets (weights and measures, and distribution of grain). Lastly, the aediles organized festivals and public games. Ambitious aediles spent prodigious amounts of coin to attract publicity and vote-catching, to advance their political careers even further.

Tribune of the Plebs: This office was formed in the early republican days to protect plebeians from patricians, when patricians held all public offices. As the title suggests, only plebeians could hold this office. Though technically not magistrates, they functioned very much like the magistrates of the Roman state; they could propose legislation and summon the senate. An important function of the plebeian tribunes was to veto decisions by the consuls and other magistrates, thus protecting the interests of the plebeians.

Praetors were magistrates responsible for the Roman judiciary. They acted as chief judges and at times as deputies to the Consuls. By 80 BCE, Sulla increased the number of Praetors to eight: two were responsible for civil matters, and six for criminal.

Two consuls were elected each year. They were the joint heads of the Roman state and commanders-in-chief of the legions. Consuls presided over Senate meetings and implemented its decisions. Both plebeians (from 367 BCE onwards) and patricians could become consuls. Interestingly, years were named after the Consuls, e.g. what we call 63 BCE was known as the “Year of the Consulship of Cicero and Hybrida”.

In times of crisis, a Dictator could be appointed. His term could be no longer than six months. But during his time in office, he possessed supreme military and judicial authority. An exception was Julius Caesar, who was proclaimed Dictator for life.

Partial view of the Roman Forum. The Curia Julia (or Senate House) is seen in the centre (courtesy Pixabay).

Governors of the Roman Provinces were selected from former praetors and consuls. Accordingly, they were named pro-praetors, or pro-consuls. They also held military command when directed by the Senate.

Governorship of the provinces gave these men free rein over the provinces, and this position was vastly abused to accumulate enormous amounts of wealth. However, most governors considered this their right, since they were not paid a salary during their decades as senators.

The ascent from military tribune to consul (and beyond) brought incremental prestige and influence to the men. No wonder, the senatorial classes aggressively engaged in the pursuit of political power for themselves, and for their family and friends. 

Volatile alliances, political factions, bribery, corruption, one-upmanship, and even marriages and divorces formed the backdrop against which the lives of senators unfolded.

In the Roman republic, senatorship and the Path of Honours remained the sole domain of men. Women could not vote, become senators, or hold any political office. 

So, what did women do to quench their ambition in a male-dominated Rome?

Women and ambition

Roman women lived under the guardianship of the primary male member of their family—the paterfamilias. Fathers played this role during their childhood, and the responsibility was handed over to husbands at marriage. Thus, the social identity of women was defined by being someone’s daughter, and later, by being someone’s wife.

Although there was no shortage of loving marriages in Rome, by today’s standards those women lived in relative submission and obscurity. Therefore, their avenues of ambition have to be understood within the context of their societal limitations.

Trades were open to free born women and freedwomen—both married and unmarried. Plebeians took on vocations like midwifery, hair-dressing, basket-weaving, and cooking, among others. Even patrician women were expected to sew and weave.

On the home front, wives of prominent families would co-host banquets with their husbands and preside over religious activities of the household. Many were well read in Greek and Latin literature.

The last decades of the republic saw the emergence of independent women—especially among the patrician families—who were unwilling to live within the sphere of traditional female virtues like modesty, devotion, and frugality. 

Although women could not vote in elections or hold office, the political milieu of the 1st century BCE was not impervious to women’s influence. 

Graffiti found on the walls in Pompeii indicate that women frequently endorsed candidates for political office. It is quite likely that women attended rallies and canvassed for their candidates.

Some even played a robust role in Roman politics, e.g. Servilia, who—because of her proximity to Julius Caesar—was a figure to reckon with.

Rome was steeped in religion. Priesthood conferred prestige and special privileges upon women, that others did not enjoy. 

Vestal priestesses belonging to the cult of goddess Vesta were considered fundamental to the continuance and security of Rome. 

They could free slaves and criminals by touching them; they had a reserved place of honour to watch games and spectacles; they could own property, and give evidence without anyone doubting their word, and were even entrusted with the safe-keeping of important wills and state documents. 

Vestal priestesses fulfilled their duties for a period of thirty years, after which they would command marital alliances in prestigious Roman families. 

Although Roman ambition came in many flavours, the core drive was to excel and elevate as a collective whole. That ancient model still shines a light for today’s world, nudging us to strive for a better tomorrow. Thank you for your kind attention.    

Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE) – Roman senator, lawyer, scholar, and consul (63 BCE) (courtesy Pixabay).

Author Bio

A neurosurgeon by profession, A. David Singh operated on brains invaded by tumors, aneurysms, and other vile maladies. Funnily, after turning a couple (or more) gray hairs, a rather strange affliction invaded his own brain. Characters from a parallel universe besieged his brain cells and refused to leave, unless David transcribed their lives onto paper. At first, he resisted the assault on his cerebral faculties, but these denizens of the Magical Rome Universe kept prodding his gray cells with their antics, forcing him to write their story.

You can enter the Magical Rome Universe through the novel Dead Boy’s Game and the Broken Vow. 

In Magical Rome, three Romans strive to become senators—each to satisfy their unique and diverse ambitions. Villius is a senator’s apprentice, Julius is a victorious centurion, and Calpurnia…well, Calpurnia is a woman living in a man’s world.

To read this story, please visit   https://MagicalRome.com 

I’d like to thank David for writing such an interesting post about ambition. It’s fascinating how ambition plays a part at every level of society. 

Be sure to check out David’s website and his new book in the Magical Rome Universe.

And if you have any questions about ambition in Roman society, be sure to ask your questions in the comments below so that David can answer them.

Thank you again to A. David Singh, and thank you to all of you for reading!

 

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Ancient Everyday: Government in Ancient Rome – Part II

Welcome back Readers and History-Lovers!

Previously, in Part I of this two-part series on government in ancient Rome. we looked briefly at the popular assemblies which gave all male Roman citizens a measure of decision-making power when it came to their city and growing empire. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part II, we’re going to be taking a brief look at what was arguably the real power behind Roman government during the Republican era: the Senate.

SPQR. Senatus Populusque Romanus. The Senate and People of Rome.

For a very long time, the initials SPQR stood for power, civilization, democracy and a government that spoke and worked for the people.

We’ve already taken a look at the ‘People’ portion, so now let us take a very brief look at the Senate of ancient Rome.

The Senate was really the ruling body behind Roman government. It was made up of a group of unelected men, and in the early Republican era, those men were only Patricians. It was later that Plebeians were permitted to join the ranks of the Senate.

Debate In The Early Roman Senate (by Severino Baraldi)

In the mid to late Republic, if a man was elected to a magistracy by the comitia, the popular assemblies we spoke of last time, he was automatically admitted to the Senate for life. The only way a senator could be expelled was if he was found guilty of some sort of severe misconduct.

Originally, there were one hundred members of the Senate. Then, this was increased to three hundred, and then in 80 B.C. to six hundred. Under Julius Caesar, when he was padding the Senate with his own supporters, the number reached nine hundred!

But what was the purpose of the Senate?

Originally, the Senate was a body of noble men who were to advise Rome’s elected magistrates and put forward laws, or leges, which the comitia could vote on. From the third century B.C., with the advent of the second Punic War and the great threat posed by Hannibal, the Senate’s powers were increased greatly.

Not only did the Senate prepare legislation to be voted on by the comitia, it also administered Rome’s finances, was in charge for foreign relations, and oversaw state religion. By the second and first centuries B.C., the Senate was pretty well the government of Rome, largely controlling the comitia and the elected magistrates.

The Senate of Rome in session in the Curia Julia (screen shot from the 1964 film The Fall of the Roman Empire)

Early on, the Senate could not make laws – those had to be voted on by the comitia – but it could issue decrees or decreta, also known as senatus consulta.

There was a lot of power and influence up for grabs when one was a Senator, but other than being an elected magistrate, what were the other criteria for joining the Senate?

To be a senator, one had to have a private income. There was no salary involved.

For Patricians in ancient Rome, becoming a Senator was another a part of the pursuit of power for themselves, for their families, and their friends. The education of Patrician or Senatorial class men was preparation for politics, for to the nobles of Rome, politics was everything, and it influenced friendships, marriages and divorces.

But this was a small percentage of Rome’s population, and there were intense rivalries. There were divisions, of course.

Senators included a group whose ancestors had held curule magistracies and consulships, and these men were known as nobiles, or ‘well-knowns’, and they could be Patrician or Plebeian.

Another group that later emerged in the ranks of the Senate was the novus homo, or ‘new man’. A novus homo was the first man in a family to hold a curule magistracy. The most famous such ‘new man’ is perhaps Cicero.

For an excellent novel on the rise of Cicero, you may wish to check out Robert Harris’ Cicero trilogy, beginning with Imperium.

Cicero

Meetings of the Senate were only attended by senators and the Flamen Dialis, the high priest of Jupiter. But the public could gather at the open doors in the vestibule of the Senate.

The meetings were originally held in the Curia Hostilia in the northwest corner of the Forum Romanum, but in actuality they could take place in any consecrated, public place within 1.6 kilometres of Rome. There was no fixed order for seating.

But what happened to the Senate under Rome’s emperors? Did it still have the power and sway that it used to?

The simple answer is no, not really.

However, in ancient Rome, tradition itself was a powerful thing, and the Senate was central to Rome’s traditions. For the sake of tradition, and perhaps popular opinion, no emperor tried to abolish the Senate, but they did impede its powers.

The Senate House, or ‘Curia’. This is the Curia Julia, built by Caesar and finished by Augustus after the previous two – the Curia Hostilia and the Curia Cornelia – were destroyed.

Under Augustus, the Senate was granting increasing powers to the emperor and, as a result, its own power was greatly reduced. However, by Augustus’ reign, there were over one thousand senators. Rome’s first emperor reduced that number to six hundred and also imposed a property qualification of one million sesterces for being admitted to the Senate.

Because Rome’s empire was expanding greatly, the Senate began to fill with men from noble families from the provinces.

What the Senate still did was control the state treasury, the aerarium, and create laws as a legislative body.

For better or for worse, perhaps depending on the type of emperor upon the throne, the power of the Roman Senate was gradually waning, and in A.D. 359, Emperor Constantine created another senate in his new capital of Constantinople, thereby creating two senates in the empire. 

By A.D. 384, each senate had about two thousand members, and though it continued as a legislative body, it would never be the same.

The last mention of the Roman Senate was in A.D. 603 around a declaration of new statues of Emperor Phocas and Empress Leontia.

Constantine the Great (c.272 – 337) – Statue outside York Minster

 We’ve only barely scraped the surface on the subject of the Senate of ancient Rome. This is a massive and fascinating subject. Hopefully this short post has given you an idea as to how the Senate fit into the government and workings of ancient Rome.

The slow death of tradition is not an easy thing. We are loathe to let go of our traditions. One can imagine the hardcore republicans during the time of Caesar and Augustus experiencing many a sleepless night at what they probably knew was coming.

Of course, they managed to stop Caesar, but by the time Augustus was on his imperial throne, the damage to the Senate had already been done, the gradual process of waning power was underway.

Forum Romanum reconstruction (The Roman Forum: A Reconstruction and Architectural Guide – Cambridge University Press)

Would Rome have been better off controlled by the Senate, and People, as it was in the early Republican era, come as it might with all of the corruption and politicking of senators and magistrates? Or was Rome better off with an emperor in place who could curb the Senate’s power and be a father to the Empire and its citizens?

Those are massive questions that have been debated for a long time, and will continue to be so. Of course, it would depend on the emperor at the time. Would you prefer to be in Rome during the height of the Republic or, say, during the reign of Emperor Antoninus Pius?

The answer might not be as easy as one thinks.

Tell us what you think in the comments below. If you could choose any period in Rome’s history in which to live, which would it be and why?

Whatever the period, there is no doubt that life in Rome was never dull, and we will always find the everyday world of that ancient city interesting and entertaining.

Thank you for reading.

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Ancient Everyday: Government in Ancient Rome – Part I

Salvete Readers and History-Lovers!

It’s been a while since our last blog on Religious Rites in Ancient Rome, and in that span of time a lot has happened abroad and at home.

Despite the lingering presence of COVID-19 in many countries around the world, some have started to risk staged re-openings, including our beloved Greece and Italy where summers would be incomplete without ancient sites and the sense-tickling blues of sea and sky. Eating al fresco is still a risky business, but people are trying things out.

I wonder if ‘re-openings’ were similar in the terrible wake of the Antonine Plague of the second century? Then, as now, the theatres and games must have been the last to open.

It has been an eventful period for myself as well. During this time of plague, my family and I decided to quit Rome for the quiet and less crowded countryside of Etruria. Well…in truth, we’ve completed our long-planned move from Toronto to Stratford, Ontario, home of the famous Shakespeare festival (yes, named after the English one!). Once again, as happened in ancient Rome or Elizabethan England, the theatres are dark due to plague. But they will re-open again!

But now for this week’s blog post…

During this pandemic, we have been hearing a lot about governments, how they have been dealing with this pestilence, how they have been trying to keep the populace safe, how they have developed economic plans for support and recovery at various levels and for various sectors etc.

So, I thought it would be a good time for a short, two-part blog series on government in ancient Rome.

What did government look like in the world of ancient Rome? How were decisions made? What did it look like in the Republic versus the Principate? What was the difference between the Popular Assemblies and the Senate?

In Part I of this series, we’re going to be taking a very brief look at the Popular Assemblies during the Republican era.

For a long time, Roman citizenship was something of value, something to be cherished for many reasons, not least of which was the ability to have a say in who was elected to political office, but also which legislation was passed in the growing empire that was Rome. Roman citizenship, for free men that is, was something to be proud of. It offered protection, commanded respect, and so much more.

All male citizens of Rome could vote on legislation and in the election of government officials, and this voting was done in the Popular Assemblies, or comitia. All male citizens were automatically members of a comitium, of which there were four.

The important thing to keep in mind is that these comitia met only to vote, not to discuss or initiate action.

Legislation, laws, or a proposed action (ex. to go to war against an enemy) was initiated by an elected magistrate and discussed by the Senate of Rome. This happened before being taken to the Popular Assemblies, or comitia, for a vote. In this way, the senators of Rome controlled the nature of legislation.

Denarius with image of a voter casting a ballot (Wikimedia Commons)

Laws were known as leges (singular, ‘lex’), and laws passed by the Plebeian assembly were known as plebiscita.

There was no discussion during assemblies, but there could be informal discussions known as contiones before a vote which male and female citizens, slaves and foreigners could attend, hence the importance of public opinion and the favour of ‘the mob’ in ancient Rome if you were a senator or magistrate who wanted something to be passed by the Popular Assemblies.

As Rome’s empire grew, many citizens could not vote because they were far from Rome where the voting took place.

To Romans, Rome really was the centre of the world.

Ancient Rome (image from Ancient History Magazine)

There were four types of comitia in ancient Rome during the Republican era, and the first group were the comitia curiata.

In ancient Rome, there were thirty wards or curiae, ten wards for each of the three original tribes (Ramnes, Tities, and Luceres) of Rome. Just as we do today, people voted in their respective wards.

However, little is known of the comitia curiata. What we do know is that the comitia centuriata grew out of it, and that by the late Republic the comitia curiata met only formally to confer imperium on consuls and praetors.

The next popular assembly we are going to take a look at is the comitia centuriata. This is the assembly that decided between War and Peace in ancient Rome, so you can imagine them meeting quite often as Rome’s empire expanded. They also elected higher magistrates and were the court of appeal for death sentences.

The comitia centuriata could only be summoned by a magistrate with imperium. They met on the Campus Martius (the Field of Mars) at Rome, and the voters of this assembly were divided into units called centuries, of which there were 373 in total. These centuries were based on male citizens’ ages and property asset values, the latter meaning that the poor had fewer votes. It was the rich who ran Rome.

Will it be War or Peace?

The third group of comitia we’re going to take a look are the comitia tributa or ‘assembly of the tribes’.

These comitia met in the Forum Romanum and the voters were divided into their thirty-five tribes, including the three original Roman tribes. They were summoned by consuls, praetors or tribunes for the purposes of electing lesser magistrates or to act as a court of appeal. They also voted on bills which the magistrates put before them.

Lastly, there was the concilium plebis, or Plebeian Assembly.

This assembly consisted of Plebeians only and met in the Forum Romanum. The citizens were divided into the thirty-five Plebeian tribes whose duty is was to elect tribunes and plebeian aediles. After 287 B.C., their resolutions or ‘plebiscita’ were binding on all citizens of Rome.

Gaius Gracchus, tribune of the people, presiding over the Plebeian Council (Wikimedia Commons)

So, there you have it: a very brief outline of the Popular Assemblies in ancient Rome.

Even though it appears that the rich – ie. the senators – controlled Rome, the popular assemblies were important in that they are what gave the people their say. Yes, the system could be corrupted, votes surely bought, but it was a say and every male citizen of Rome had his duty to vote. No vote, no say.

For those of you who are interested, the novel ROMA, by Steven Saylor, delves into the early government of ancient Rome. It’s a fantastic read and I highly recommend it.

But it is true that during the Republic, the Senate was perhaps the true power behind Rome’s growing empire.

Next week, in Part II of this blog series on government in ancient Rome, we’ll be taking a brief look at the senate, and its powers and duties.

Thank you for reading.

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Religious Rites in Ancient Rome

As some of you may know, I find Roman religion utterly fascinating. I find the customizable nature of Roman religious beliefs very interesting in that people were not bound to a particular god or goddess. Indeed, there was a different god or goddess for almost every aspect of life, and as Rome conquered new lands, new deities and traditions were added into the mix.

In some ways, Roman religion was as diverse as Roman society.

In the last blog post, we took a look at the various types of spirits, or numina, that existed in Roman religion. If you missed that post, you can read it by CLICKING HERE.

We know that there were many kinds of spirits, and various gods and goddesses that were worshiped by Romans, but what form did that worship take? Were there different ways of honouring and conversing with the gods?

In this post, we’re going to be taking a look at the various religious rites in Roman religion.

Artist impression of temple of Mars Ultor (the ‘Avenger’)

Roman religion itself was more cult-based. It involved the worship of a god, goddess or hero with specific rituals that were observed in order to win the gods’ favour.

This was more of a symbiont relationship, as it was believed that not only did mortals need the gods, but also that the gods needed mortal acknowledgment. 

As mostly spirits of natural forces (ex. lighting, or the sea), the gods needed to be propitiated, kept friendly toward their mortal worshippers. This was done more through observing the proper rites than through piety or good behaviour.

The cult ceremonies performed by mortals to honour gods, goddesses, or heroes were a sort of ‘contract’ between mortal and immortal.

Let’s take a brief look at the various types of religious rites or ceremonies that were carried out by ancient Romans.

The Council of the Gods by Raphael, c.1517, Villa Farnesina, Rome

The first type of rite is one that is common to all religions, and that is prayer.

Prayers in ancient Roman religion did not always have a set text that had to be spoken, such as the Lord’s Prayer or a Hail Mary in Christianity. A Roman prayer really depended on the person offering it, and what that person needed. 

As part of prayers, a worshipper offered to give something to the god, or to do something for the god (ex. build an altar). This was done with no expectation. It was a gift.

Prayers tried to cover eventualities.

A sacrifice portrayed on a lararium, or family shrine, in Pompeii

Vows were similar to prayers in that the worshipper offered to do or give something to a god, but in this instance, it was only in return for something from the immortal.

Not only did individuals make vows, but the state could also make a vow, such as if the gods helped to avert a crisis or disaster. It was common for vows to be recorded on votive tablets and left in temples as a record of the vow. With vows, there was a sort of two-way accountability. 

The fulfillment of a vow often involved setting up an altar, or leaving a gift at a temple or shrine.

The vow was referred to as a nuncupatio and the fulfillment as the solutio. For the particular gift that was created or offered, it was referred to as ex voto, that is ‘in fulfillment of a vow’.

Altar to Jupiter dating to 2nd–3rd century AD. – Inscription: Dedicated by L. Lollius Clarus for himself and his family (Wikiwand)

When it comes to Roman religious rites, the one that most people today probably think of is the sacrifice.

Sacrifices were a gift to the gods, heroes, and to the dead. They were carried out publicly or privately, and there were many different ways of performing them.

Sometimes, food and drink were shared between mortals and immortals at a feast. However, sometimes, in sacrifice, all the food was burned on the fire for the gods. These types of sacrifices could consist of cakes, wine, incense, oil, honey and various animals (blood sacrifices).

There is little evidence for human sacrifice in Roman religion except in an extreme example after the battle of Cannae (216 B.C.), when Rome experienced one of her worst military defeats ever during the second Punic War against Hannibal. The sacrifice that took place after the battle involved the burying of two Greeks and two Gauls in the forum Boarium in Rome.

There were a few categories of sacrifice in Roman religion, with various motives for each. These are evidenced mostly by inscriptions on altars. The motive could be the fulfillment of a vow (perhaps the most common), a thank offering, or the expectation of a favour from the gods. Other motives could included the result of some sort of divination, an anniversary (such as the founding of Rome on April 21), or a dedication.

Some sacrifices were considered to be instigated by the gods because of a dream or some other portent.

You can read more about the specifics of sacrifice, and how they were carried out in ancient Rome, by CLICKING HERE.

Relief of a Suovetaurilia ceremony

Another form of offering that was a part of Roman religious rites was the libation.

Libations were liquid offerings (also considered a sacrifice) to the gods that were poured on the ground. The most common was undiluted wine, but libations could also include milk, honey and even water. These were also offered to the dead at burials and later in ceremonies at the tombs of the deceased.

Another rite was the devotio. This was when a suppliant tried to gain the favour of the gods by offering their own life. This was, of course, less common.

The devotio was performed in times of desperation, such as by a general who was about to loose a battle, and so would offer his life during the battle if his forces should be victorious and avert disaster and shame. This was a ritual that was often performed for Tellus, the Earth Goddess, or the manes, the ‘spirits of the divine dead’.

The Goddess Tellus on the Ara Pacis in Rome

The rite known as the ver sacrum was performed at a time of great crisis. This usually involved the dedication of everything born in the Spring to a god, often to Jupiter himself.

As part of the ver sacrum, all such animals were sacrificed, but children born in the Spring were expelled from the country at the age of twenty to form a new community elsewhere. This rite was performed in 217 B.C. during the second Punic War.

German print of Hannibal, victorious against Rome at Cannae

A lustratio was another important rite in Roman religion. It was a sort of purification ceremony to protect against evil and give good luck. It involved a procession, an animal sacrifice, prayers and other sacrifices such as of food and incense.

An example of this was when a newborn child reached nine days of age and received his or her name. In this sense, the lustratio was similar to the Christian rite of baptism.

Those of you who have read the novel, Killing the Hydra, will remember the chapter in which a lustratio ceremony takes place at the legionary fortress of Lambaesis in Numidia.

Relief of Emperor Marcus Aurelius performing a sacrifice

Divination rites were also a major part of Roman religion.

These involved the reading of signs and omens to reveal the will of the gods. It was a way of predicting the future through things such as thunder, lightning, bird signs and other phenomena.

There were two types of divination. The first was natural divination which involved dream interpretation (such as when a sick person was made to sleep in the temple of Asclepius), or oracular prophecy by someone possessed by a god. In natural divination, the gods spoke directly to mortals.

Artificial divination, however, was based on the observance of plants and animals. It could involve augury, which was the art of reading bird signs, reading the entrails of a sacrifice, or even reading the throwing of dice or drawing of lots.

Specialized training was required to carry out these rites of divination, much of which was handed down by the Etruscans to the Romans.

Etruscan bronze liver that may have served as an instructional model for a haruspex (Wikimedia Commons)

Oracles were an important part form of natural divination, and though they were more popular in the world of ancient Greece, they did play a role in Roman religion.

The most famous oracles were the Pythia at Delphi, still consulted in Roman times, and the Cumaean Sibyl (whose cave is visited in the book Children of Apollo. The god Apollo, worshipped by both the Greeks and Romans, spoke through both of these important oracles. However, there were other gods who spoke to the Romans through oracles, such as Carmentis, a water goddess who was also a prophetic goddess of protection in childbirth, and Faunus, the Roman equivalent to Pan, who was a hunter and agricultural god. In his oracular nature, Faunus spoke to mortals in dreams and through sacred groves.

The Roman state consulted oracles less frequently than, say, the ancient Athenians or Spartans. However, the prophecies of the Cumaean Sibyl that were known as the Sibylline Books, were consulted in ancient Rome. These important prophecies were destroyed in a fire that consumed the temple of Jupiter where they were kept, and so a new compendium of the Sibylline Books was transferred to the temple of Apollo on the Palatine Hill, which was built by Augustus.

Oracles were tricky though, and because they became increasingly popular among the people of Rome in the early Empire, there was a growing sense of panic. For this reason, Augustus is said to have burned two thousand books of prophecies. Perhaps the emperor had a good point? Some of you may remember the Mayan Calendar and the Y2K panic? I wonder if Nostradamus’ prophecies said anything about our current COVID crisis? And what about Voldemort and his obsession with a prophecy in the Harry Potter series!

Let’s not think about it. Oracles, it seems, were a double-edged gladius.

Apollo and the Pythia who uttered his prophecies to mortals

The final sort of religious rite we’re going to take a look at is one that is still popular today.

Astrology came to Rome in the second century B.C. from Babylon and Egypt. At the time, it was very popular, and it was thought to be compatible with religion because the stars foretold the future, and that that future was the gods’ will.

At first, even Christians and Jews accepted astrology and the predictability of the planets and stars.

Most famously, Emperor Septimius Severus and Empress Julia Domna were big believers in the art of astrology, and they used astrologers on a regular basis. This part of their beliefs, and how it affected their rule, is explored in the Eagles and Dragons series. 

Looking to the to the stars for guidance…

I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief look at religious rites in ancient Rome. There are, of course, more aspects to the intricacies of Roman religious observance, and anyone with an interest in this subject is encouraged to read more, but also to look closely at the archaeological record, mainly the remains of altars and votive inscriptions, to learn more about the people who carried out these rites or commissioned them.

These rites were not only a way of honouring gods, goddesses, and heroes by the Romans. They were also a way to communicated directly with them, to interact with them, to be closer to them.

Thank you for reading.

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Ancient Everyday: Janus – The Faces of a Roman God

Salvete Readers and History-lovers!

Happy New Year to all of you, and may this new decade bring you much love, joy, good health, and prosperity in all you do!

I’ve been off for a couple of weeks after a full autumn of blogging, right up to threshold of 2020, but now it’s time to get back down to work and bring you all more history and historical fiction!

I thought it would be nice to start the year off right with a new Ancient Everyday post about one of the most important gods in ancient Rome: Janus.

Janus, the two-faced god. Give him a thought as we step from one year into another.

See Janus comes…the herald of a lucky year to thee, and in my song takes precedence. Two-headed Janus, opener of the softly gliding year, thou who alone of the celestials dost behold thy back, O come propitious to the chiefs whose toil ensures peace to the fruitful earth, peace to the sea. And come propitious to thy senators and to the people of Quirinus, and by thy nod unbar the temples white. A happy morning dawns. Fair speech, fair thoughts I crave! Now must good words be spoken on a good day.

(Ovid, Fasti, Book I, Kalends, Ianuarius)

Unlike many other gods, there was no equivalent to Janus in Greek myth. He was a uniquely Roman god.

In Roman mythology, Janus was said to be the first king of Latium. He pursued caught up with the virgin nymph, Carna (who usually escaped her suitors), and in return he gave her power over door hinges and a branch of hawthorn to keep evil spirits away from thresholds and doorways.

Janus was also the father of Tiberinus, who gave his name to the River Tiber, and of the nymph Canens, by Venilia, who married Picus, the son of Saturn, both of whom were tortured by the jealous enchantress, Circe.

While the fates guard Canens, Janus’s daughter, for me [Picus], I will not harm our bond of affection by an alien love. Repeating her entreaties, time and again, in vain, Circe cried: ‘You will not go unpunished, or return to your Canens, and you will learn the truth of what the wounded; a lover; a woman, can do: and Circe is a lover; is wounded; is a woman!’

(Ovid, Metamorphoses, XIV:320-396)

Circe Changing Picus into a Bird (Circes concubitum detestatur Picus), from Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’ (Wikimedia Commons)

The mythology around Janus is fascinating enough, but even more so are the aspects of this Roman god.

Janus is one of those gods who permeated many aspects of Roman life, but one who is sometimes glossed over when looking at ancient Rome today.

Janus was really everywhere. Right now, we find ourselves in the month of Janus, or Ianuarius, as the Romans said. That’s January to all of us. Why is the month of January named after this archaic Roman god?

Among the many aspects of Janus, he was the Roman god of new beginnings, as well as endings. Not only was January dedicated to Janus, but also the kalends (the first day) of every month were as well.

When Romans wanted to bless the beginning of anything new – a month, a year, a journey, a business venture etc. – Janus was the first god they prayed to. As the god of beginnings, Janus was always the first god to be named on any list of the gods, or honoured in any ceremony, no matter for which god the ceremony was dedicated. He was also the first god to receive a portion of the sacrifice.

But Janus was not just a god of new beginnings. There was much more to this fascinating, most-ancient god of the Roman pantheon.

Remains of the Temple of Janus in Rome (Wikimedia Commons)

Janus was also a god of gates and doorways, and this is one reason for which he is often depicted as having two faces. Janus ‘Bifrons’ guarded over transitionary places such as gates and doorways, or even the crossing point of one year to the other, his two faces simultaneously looking forward and backward, seeing all.

As the god who oversaw passageways and doorways, Janus was the god who allowed mortals to communicate with the other gods, and so his invocation at the outset of a religious ceremony was crucial.

But there are even more aspects to Janus.

Janus ‘Patulcius’ was the god who actually opened doors, and Janus ‘Clusivus’ was the god who closed doors. 

Janus ‘Consivius’, was a god of change and of time who was also invoked at important events such as marriage, or death, or at harvest and planting times of year.

Janus ‘Quirinus’ was the god of the all-important Roman passage from war to peace, from soldier to citizen.

In ancient Rome, however, Janus was probably most worshiped as Janus ‘Pater’, Janus the Father who was a god of creation, or a primal creator in the form of Chaos.

Definitely a god you want to have on your side.

A print from Bernard de Montfaucon’s L’antiquité expliquée et représentée en figures with different images of Janus. (Wikimedia Commons)

The ancients called me Chaos, for a being from of old am I; observe the long, long ages of which my song shall tell. Yon lucid air and the three others bodies, fire, water, earth, were huddled all in one. When once, through the discord of its elements, the mass parted, dissolved, and went in diverse ways to seek new homes, flame sought the height, air filled the nearer space, while earth and sea sank in the middle deep. ‘Twas then that I, till that time a mere ball, a shapeless lump, assumed the face and members of a god. And even now, small index of my erst chaotic state, my front and back look just the same. Now hear the other reason for the shape you ask about, that you may know it and my office too. Whate’er you see anywhere – sky, sea, clouds, earth – all things are closed and opened by my hand. The guardianship of this vast universe is in my hands alone, and none but me may rule the wheeling pole. When I choose to send forth peace from tranquil halls, she freely walks the ways unhindered. But with blood and slaughter the whole world would welter, did not the bars unbending hold the barricadoed wars. I sit at heaven’s gate with the gentle Hours; my office regulates the goings and the comings of Jupiter himself. Hence Janus is my name; but when the priest offers me a barley cake and spelt mingled with salt, you would laugh to hear the names he gives me, for on his sacrificial lips I’m now Patulcius and now Clusius called. Thus rude antiquity made shift to work my changing functions with the change of name. My business I have told. Now learn the reason for my shape, though already you perceive it in part. Every door has two fronts, this way and that, whereof one faces the people and the other the house-god; and just as your human porter, seated at the threshold of the house-door, sees who goes out and in, so I, the porter of the heavenly court, behold at once both East and West. 

(Ovid, Fasti, Book I, Kalends, Ianuarius)

Janus was honoured at many different times of year, and for various events, but his main festival was, oddly enough, held on the 17th of August. This was also the festival of Portunus, or Portunalia, which honoured the god who protected doors and harbours.

Rites dedicated to Janus at these various times of year, including the start and end of the military campaigning season (March and October) included offerings of spelt cakes and salt that were burned upon altars.

And on New Year’s Day – a very important beginning up to our own day – people gave gifts of dates, figs, honey, salt and coins.

One important tradition we still honour today is the offering of good wishes and cheerful words at New Year. All of these honoured Janus!

Interestingly, Janus did not have a specific priest in ancient Rome. The rites for him were performed by the Rex Sacrorum, the ‘King of the Sacred Rites’.

Janus had various shrines dedicated to him in Rome, but perhaps the most famous was the one built by King Numa Pompilius (c. 715-673 B.C.) the second king of Rome, after Romulus himself. Religion was important to King Numa.

The temple of Janus was built by Numa in the Forum Romanum, but this was no ordinary temple. It was more of an East-West passageway with doors at each end.

This temple represented the beginning and end of war or conflict, and the journey that entailed. During war, the doors of the temple of Janus were left open, but during peace time, the doors were closed.

Needless to say, in ancient Rome, as the Empire expanded, the doors were more often open than closed.

He [Janus] also has a temple at Rome with double doors, which they call the gates of war; for the temple always stands open in time of war, but is closed when peace has come. The latter was a difficult matter, and it rarely happened, since the realm was always engaged in some war, as its increasing size brought it into collision with the barbarous nations which encompassed it round about. But in the time of Augustus Caesar it was closed, after he had overthrown Antony; and before that, when Marcus Atilius and Titus Manlius were consuls, it was closed a short time; then war broke out again at once, and it was opened. During the reign of Numa, however, it was not seen open for a single day, but remained shut for the space of forty-three years together, so complete and universal was the cessation of war. For not only was the Roman people softened and charmed by the righteousness and mildness of their king, but also the cities round about, as if some cooling breeze or salubrious wind were wafted upon them from Rome, began to experience a change of temper, and all of them were filled with a longing desire to have good government, to be at peace, to till the earth, to rear their childrenin quiet, and to worship the gods.

(Plutarch, The Life of King Numa, XX)

Temple of Janus on a coin minted by Nero (54-68 A.D.) Note that the doors are closed.

It is often the case, especially in fiction and popular culture, that religion in ancient Rome is often ignored or glossed over.

But if you want an accurate picture of everyday life in ancient Rome, or if you want to get to know the Romans more completely, their religious beliefs and practices are an important part of that picture.

Many people today may not believe in gods, or a god, anymore, but to the ancient Romans, they played a central role in every aspect of life, and Janus, in all his many guises, was at the forefront of the Roman pantheon.

Thank you for reading, and a very Happy New Year to you all!

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part VII – The Severan Invasion of Caledonia: Victory or Failure?

In the midst of the emperor’s distress at the kind of life his sons were leading and their disgraceful obsession with shows, the governor of Britain informed Severus by dispatches that the barbarians there were in revolt and overrunning the country, looting and destroying virtually everything on the island. He told Severus that he needed either a stronger army for the defence of the province or the presence of the emperor himself. Severus was delighted with this news: glory-loving by nature, he wished to win victories over the Britons to add to the victories and titles of honour he had won in the East and the West. Be he wished even more to take his sons away from Rome so that they might settle down in the soldier’s life under military discipline, far from the luxuries and pleasures of Rome. And so, although he was now well advanced in years and crippled with arthritis, Severus announced his expedition to Britain, and in his heart he was more enthusiastic than any youth. During the greater part of the journey he was carried in a little, but he never remained very long in one place and never stopped to rest. He arrived with his sons at the coast sooner than anyone anticipated, outstripping the news of his approach. he crossed the channel and landed in Britain; levying soldiers from all the areas, he raise a powerful army and made preparations for the campaign.

(Herodian, History of the Empire, XIV,1-3)

Welcome to the seventh and final part in The World of Isle of the Blessed.

In Part VI, we looked at the mystery of decapitated Roman bodies found in York, and how they may relate to Caracalla’s rampage upon taking the imperial throne after the death of his father, Emperor Septimius Severus. If you missed that post, you can check it out HERE.

In Part VII, we are going to be looking at Severus’ Caledonian campaign that is the focus of Warriors of Epona (Eagles and Dragons – Book III) and the newest release in the series, Isle of the Blessed.

Marching Legions (Wikimedia Commons)

First of all, why did Septimius Severus march on Caledonia? The main reason most often given by the sources is that it was something he thought would give his unruly sons, Caracalla and Geta, focus. It was something to train them for the role of emperor. Severus was a big believer in the importance of nurturing the loyalty of the legions, and so perhaps he also hoped his sons would prove themselves and, in the process, earn that loyalty.

But there had to be more to it than a training exercise for his delinquent boys.

Severus’ Caledonian campaign was enormous. He moved on Caledonia with at least three full legions (the II Augusta, the VI Victrix, and the XX Valeria Victrix) as well as greater numbers of detachments and auxiliary units. When Septimius Severus took the imperial throne, he was immediately engaged in consolidating the Empire after the civil war, and then taking on the Parthian Empire. He was a military emperor, and he knew how to keep his troops busy, and how to reward them.

The Caledonians had been a thorn in Rome’s side for a long while at that time, but it was not until A.D. 208 that Severus was finally able to deal with them. And so, the imperial army moved to northern Britannia, poised to take on the Caledonians once again.

We’ve already touched on Severus’ campaign in The World of Warriors of Epona blog series. However, it’s important to note that this is believed to be the last real attempt by Rome to take a full army into the heart of barbarian territory.

Severus moved on the Caledonians with the greatest land force in the history of Roman Britain, making use of his predecessors’ fortifications (such as the Gask Ridge frontier) and roads, and penetrating almost as far as Agricola’s legions over a hundred years before.

The war may have been an opportunity to train and discipline Severus’ sons, but it seems evident that the true intention of the Caledonian campaign was to put a stop to the rebellious behaviour of the Caledonii, Maeatae and other Caledonian tribes.

Severus’ ultimate goal was the complete and permanent conquest of Caledonia.

Severan Campaigns in Caledonia (Wikimedia Commons)

There are two principal races of the Britons, the Caledonians and the Maeatae, and the names of others have been merged in these two. The Maeatae live next to the cross-wall which cuts the island in half, and the Caledonians are beyond them. Both tribes inhabit wild and waterless mountains and desolate and swampy plains, and possess neither walls, cities, nor tilled fields, but live on their flocks, wild game, and certain fruits; for they do not touch the fish which are there found in immense and inexhaustible quantities. They dwell in tents, naked and unshod, possess their women in common, and in common rear all the offspring. Their form of rule is democratic for the most part, and they are very fond of plundering; consequently they choose their boldest men as rulers. The go into battle in chariots, and have small, swift horses; there are also foot-soldiers, very swift running and very firm in standing their ground. For arms they have a shield and a short spear, with a bronze apple attached to the end of the spear-shaft, so that when it is shaken it may clash and terrify the enemy; and they also have daggers. They can endure hunger and cold and any kind of hardship; for they plunge into the swamps and exist there for many days with only their heads above water, and in the forests they support themselves upon bark and root…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 12,1)

It seems that Severus knew the Caledonian campaign would not be easy, for this was a huge offensive with a lot of military might behind it. However, one has to wonder if they knew what to expect. The Caledonii and the Maeatae were smart fighters. They knew their terrain, and their strengths. But they also knew Rome’s strengths, and so refused meet the legions in a pitched battle.

The result? A brutal guerrilla war.

…as he [Severus] advanced through the country he experienced countless hardships in cutting down forests, levelling the heights, filling up swamps, and bridging rivers; but he fought no battle and beheld no enemy in battle array. The enemy purposely put sheep and cattle in front of the soldiers for them to seize in order that they might be lured on still further until they were worn out; for in fact the water caused great suffering to the Romans, and when they became scattered, they would be attacked. Then, unable to walk, they would be slain by their own men, in order to avoid capture, so that a full fifty thousand died.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 14,1)

The Highlands of Caledonia

Severus’ Caledonian campaign was actually carried out in two phases. The first, explored in the novel Warriors of Epona, actually ended in a peace treaty in which Dio tells us that Severus “forced the Britons to come to terms, on the condition that they should abandon a large part of their territory.”

If Dio’s horrific number of fifty-thousand Roman casualties is to be believed (remember, ancient sources are often prone to exaggeration), then the Caledonii must have suffered even greater losses if they agreed to the terms.

It is here that one of the strangest episodes of the campaign occurred, though it had nothing to do with actual fighting, or the Caledonians.

On another occasion, when both [Severus and Caracalla] were riding forward to meet the Caledonians, in order to receive their arms and discuss the details of the truce, Antoninus [Caracalla] attempted to kill his father outright with his own hand. They were proceeding on horseback, Severus also being mounted, in spite of the fact that he had somewhat strained his feet as a result of his infirmity, and the rest of the army was following; the enemy’s force were likewise spectators. At this juncture, while all were proceeding in silence and in order, Antoninus reined in his horse and drew his sword, as if he were going to strike his other in the back. But the others who were riding with them, upon seeing this, cried out, and so Antoninus, in alarm, desisted from his attempt. Severus turned at their shout and saw the sword, yet he did not utter a word, but ascended the tribunal, finished what he had to do, and returned to headquarters.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 14,3)

When they had returned to base, Severus apparently chided his son before Castor, his freedman, and Papinianus, the Praetorian Prefect, both men whom Caracalla hated and who would later feel his wrath.

Ruins of Roman York – historic photo of the multiangular tower

It would seem that Septimius Severus, during the Caledonian campaign, was fighting a war on two fronts in a way – one in the glens and forests of Scotland, and the other at home. If the emperor was hoping that the campaign would bring his two sons closer together, he was wrong in that assessment. With Geta running the imperial administration in Eburacum (York) and Caracalla leading the troops in Caledonia, it seemed the rift between them was growing wider and wider.

After the treaty with the Caledonians was settled, Septimius Severus, growing more and more ill and infirm, returned to Eburacum. It was during this time that Caracalla is supposed to have tried to get his father’s doctors to speed  his demise, an act they refused to do at their own peril.

It was not long, however, before the Caledonians and Maeatae broke the treaty and the drums of war began to thrum once again. It is the second, bloody portion of the Caledonian campaign that takes place in Isle of the Blessed.

Cassius Dio quotes the ailing emperor’s words when he discovered that the Caledonians and Maeatae had broken the truce:

When the inhabitants of the island again revolted, he summoned the soldiers and ordered them to invade the rebels’ country, killing everybody they met; and he quoted these words:

“Let no one escape sheer destruction,

No one our hands, not even the babe in the womb of the mother,

If it be male; let it nevertheless not escape sheer destruction.”

When this had been done, and the Caledonians had joined the revolt of the Maeatae, he began to make war upon them in person. While he was thus engaged, his sickness carried him off on the fourth of February, not without some help, they say, from Antoninus.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 15,1)

Artist impression of Roman cavalry ala engaging Caledonians (illustration by Sean O’ Brogain)

The Romans began visiting brutal retaliation upon the enemy then, but all ground to a halt with the death of Emperor Septimius Severus at York.

It is at this point that Caracalla and Geta became co-rulers. However, Their primary objective now was to return to Rome and garner support.

The brothers, despite the hope of their parents, tutor, and others, were anything but harmonious.

Caracalla began gathering support and power unto himself, and it is at this time that he carried out the bloody killings hinted at by the discoveries at York we heard about in Part VI of this blog series.

One of the beheaded York Romans (Photo: York Archaeological Trust)

After the death of Septimius Severus, the Caledonian campaign came to an abrupt end:

Antoninus [Caracalla] assumed the entire power; nominally, it is true, he shared it with his brother, but in reality he ruled alone from the very outset. With the enemy he came to terms, withdrew from their territory, and abandoned the forts; as for his own people, he dismissed some…and killed others…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 11,1)

The Severan invasion of Scotland was a massive campaign, involving hundreds of thousands of men. It was not nearly as large as his successful Parthian campaign in which he led thirty-three legions east, but it was one of the largest Roman operations on British soil.

50,000 Roman dead.

And how many more Caledonian and Maeatae casualties?

If Cassius Dio is correct, the numbers are staggering.

But was the campaign a victory or a failure for Rome? Was it worth it?

Severus had not only wished for the complete and permanent conquest of Caledonia, but also for the war to give his sons discipline, for it to bring them close together.

Perhaps Severus also wanted to add one more battle honour to his name – ‘Britannicus’?

If we are to believe Cassius Dio and Herodian, our primary sources for this period, we must conclude that Severus’ Caledonian campaign was more of a failure, not because Rome lost on the field of battle – indeed, despite the loss of life, they brought the tribes to their knees temporarily – but because the finalizing of the campaign was left in the hands of incapable heirs whose only concern was to return to Rome and gather power, heirs who continued to hate each other.

How many possible victories in history have been wasted in a greedy aftermath?

Roman re-enactors (Historic Scotland)

Caracalla and Geta abandoned Caledonia and returned to Rome with destruction and bitter enemies in their wake.

The forts of the Gask Ridge, the would-be northern capital of Horea Classis, and the Antonine wall, Trimontium and other forts were abandoned and silent once more. Rome’s allies in the fight, mainly the Votadini, were left to their own defences yet again.

The Caledonians and Maeatae had been paid off, and may have been quiet for a time, but they would rebel again…and again.

And so the cycle of powerful men wasting the lives of loyal troops in foreign wars echoes through history without end. And the same goes for the pain and suffering on both sides of any conflict.

The Severan invasion of Caledonia was just another such conflict.

And for the characters in Isle of the Blessed, the scars of that conflict will be long-lasting indeed.

Thank you for reading.

We hope you have enjoyed this blog series on The World of Isle of the Blessed. If you missed any of the posts, or would like to read them again, you can read the entire blog series by CLICKING HERE.

 Isle of the Blessed (Eagles and Dragons – Book IV) is available in e-book and paperback in most major on-line retailers HERE.

If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

Stay tuned for our next blog series about Book V in the Eagles and Dragons series, The Stolen Throne (available now).

The history, archaeology and mythology continue, and we’re thrilled to have you along for the ride.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part VI – Mass Murder in Roman York

After his father’s death, Caracalla seized control and immediately began to murder everyone in the court; he killed the physicians who had refused to obey his orders to hasten the old man’s death and also murdered those men who had reared his brother and himself because they persisted in urging him to live at peace with Geta. He did not spare any of the men who had attended his father or were held in esteem by him.

(Herodian, History of the Empire, XV-4)

Thus began the reign of Marcus Aurelius Severus Antoninus Augustus, the emperor more commonly known as Caracalla.

Welcome back to The World of Isle of the Blessed, the blog series in which we look at the research that went into the creation of the latest Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy novel.

In Part V, we looked at the death of Emperor Septimius Severus in York. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part VI we are going to explore the immediate aftermath of Severus’ death, and how a mysterious archaeological discovery gives some interesting clues about the bloody beginning of Caracalla’s reign.

Septimius Severus and Caracalla (painting by Jean-Baptiste Greuze; Department of Paintings of the Louvre)

It could be argued that the death of Septimius Severus in York (Roman Eburacum) in A.D. 211 was one of the most pivotal moments in Rome’s history, that it was perhaps the beginning of the end for the Empire.

Severus had always been a strong leader who had decisively won out over his opponents in the civil war, who had conquered the Parthian Empire, and perhaps most importantly, had nurtured the loyalty of the legions.

As Cassius Dio tells us, one of the final pieces of advice to both of his sons was to “be harmonious, enrich the soldiers, and scorn all other men.”

But harmony between his sons and heirs, Caracalla and Geta, was something that would never come to be. As explored in Killing the Hydra (Eagles and Dragons Book II), after the death of Plautianus, Severus’ previous, traitorous Praetorian prefect, the two brothers were constantly at odds, running amok in Rome.

That was one of the reasons the sources give for the Caledonian campaign, that it was to give his sons a sense of purpose.

Gold aureus portraying Caracalla (as ‘Augustus’) and Geta (as ‘Caesar’)

His belief in his sons, especially in Caracalla, might have been Severus’ fatal flaw when it came to the health of the Empire. Dio tells us “he had often blamed Marcus [Aurelius] for not putting Commodus quietly out of the way and that he had himself often threatened to act thus toward his son [Caracalla]”.

But Severus erred and made the same mistake as Marcus Aurelius, and set his son upon the imperial throne. Only this time, there were two heirs, and if one thing is certain, imperial power was never easily shared.

Caracalla was obsessed with securing power…

When Septimius Severus finally passed away in Eburacum, (Roman York) on February, A.D. 211, Caracalla made his bid to secure power immediately.

As have other rulers in Rome’s history, he began by eliminating his perceived enemies, those who posed an immediate threat.

This did not include his brother Geta at first, for Geta was also well-loved by the men of the legions as Severus’ son, and Caracalla needed the legions’ loyalty.

Others were not so fortunate.

As Herodian tells us in the quote above, Caracalla began to “murder everyone in the court”.

But how and where did he do this?

In the early 2000s, a gruesome discovery beneath a patio in York hints at what might have happened. 

Headless bodies discovered in York (photo by York Archaeological Trust)

What this archaeological discover entailed aligns well with what we are told of Caracalla’s bloody start to his reign, and hints at the madness or paranoia that already had a hold on the young emperor.

As it turns out, the discovery in York entailed the burials of over 30 male skeletons, all of them between the ages of twenty and forty.

The strange thing about these skeletons was that they were all decapitated…executed. And they date to the beginning of Caracalla’s reign.

The heads of the bodies were places in strange positions – some by the feet or between the legs and some face down. There are even two skeletons in which the heads were exchanged, the one put with the other.

Archaeologists at work in York (photo: York Archaeological Trust)

Ancient Romans took death and burial seriously, but in this instance there is little respect shown to the skeletons.

From the forensic evidence, experts believe that these men were executed by beheading.

Some of the bones display horrific injuries too. A few show a single, clean cut through the vertebrae of the neck, but others show a brutal end with one skeleton displaying eleven separate cuts to the neck on all sides, plus a massive head trauma.

Praetorian officers

So, who were these men that Caracalla would strike so brutally at them?

The theories vary, but it seems likely that most of them were Praetorians who had been loyal, not only to his father, but to Papinianus, the Praetorian Prefect. These were men Caracalla felt he did not have their loyalty. But there were possibly others among the slain.

It is quite possible that among the dead are the remains of the doctors who refused to help speed the emperor’s passing when requested by Caracalla. Also, Severus’ loyal freedman, Castor, is a possible victim, for he was often at odds with the young Caesar and had Severus’ confidence. Another who had helped to rear Caracalla and Geta, and who is said to have often annoyed the former, was their tutor, Euodus. Was he also among the decapitated dead?

One of the decapitated bodies found as if thrown unceremoniously into the ‘grave’ (photo: York Archaeological Trust)

Whoever the victims of this massacre in Roman York were, they had incurred Caracalla’s anger in some way, and he made them pay for it before dumping their mangled corpses in a cemetery outside the walls of the city.

In Isle of the Blessed, this horrific event is one of the more grisly episodes in a history that, quite frankly, you just can’t make up.

Often, history is unbelievable, and when turning it into fiction, the stakes have to be raised.

So, what happens to the protagonist, Lucius Metellus Anguis, during Caracalla’s rampage in Isle of the Blessed?

You have to read the story to experience it for yourself.

Thank you for reading.

To learn more about the Severan invasion of Scotland as well as the archaeological discovery of the decapitated bodies at York, be sure to watch the Timewatch documentary below.

Tune in next week for the sixth post in The World of Isle of the Blessed when we will take a brief look at the Caledonian campaign and wether it was indeed a victory or not.

Isle of the Blessed is now available in e-book and paperback formats on major retailers. CLICK HERE to learn more.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part IV – The Court of Severus in Eburacum

Welcome back to The World of Isle of the Blessed. We are at the midway point in this blog series about the history, archaeology and research that are related to Isle of the Blessed, the latest novel in the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.

Last week in Part III, we took a tour of Glastonbury, Somerset and some of the sites that are featured in the novel. If you missed it, you can check it out HERE.

This week, in Part IV, we will be meeting some of the main players in the story, the members of Septimius Severus’ imperial court in Eburacum (modern York) when he spent three years there during the Caledonian campaign. Fans of the series will already be familiar with some, but others will be new, but no less interesting or important to this part of the story.

What was it like to be a part of the imperial court?

During the Caledonian campaign, Septimius Severus moved much of his government to Eburacum, the provincial capital of Britannia Inferior, the northern half of the province.

His entourage would have included not only his wife, sons, and other family members, but also an army of slaves, civil servants and more.

With the court moving to Eburacum for over three years, the city would have been bustling with activity. The markets would have been full with merchants and suppliers coming from around the Empire to provide for the great influx of civilians as well as the many thousands of auxiliary troops who came to Caledonia in addition to the legions that were already posted there.

Like any imperial court, however, there were camps with different intentions and interests working in the background. The glens of Scotland were not the only battlefields, and the period of Severus’ rule, perhaps especially during the Caledonian campaign, was a crucial time for the Empire.

So who were the main players at the imperial court, and where did their loyalties lie?

Severus had been ‘dying’ for years, but now, it seemed, the end was near, and the vultures were circling.

First, let us look at the family of Severus himself.

Septimius Severus and his family, Julia Domna, Caracalla and Geta (with face missing)

The Severans were a very interesting family and not without their tales of violence and greed and uniqueness of character. The period is not marked by something so brutal (not yet!) as the psychotic reign of Caligula, but there are certainly many more dimensions. It is a time of militarism, of a weakened Senate, a time of spymasters in various camps. It is a time marked by the rise of lower classes, the presence of powerful women and, over it all, a blanket of religious superstition at the highest levels. Many believe that it is this period in Rome’s history that marks the true beginning of the end of the Roman Empire.

In writing the Eagles and Dragons series, it has become obvious that Septimius Severus (A.D. 193-211) was, perhaps, one of the better emperors in Rome’s history. Sure, he was not Antoninus Pius (few were), but he was far better than say, Tiberius.

He was the son of an Equestrian from Leptis Magna in North Africa. When Commodus was killed in A.D. 192, Severus was governor of Pannonia. When the Praetorians decided to auction the imperial seat a short time later, Severus’ legions declared him Emperor. He subsequently defeated his two opponents who had also declared themselves Emperor: Clodius Albinus and Pescennius Niger. A purge of his opponents’ followers in the Senate and Rome made Severus sole ruler of the largest empire in the world.

Septimius Severus was a martial emperor, the army was his power and he knew how to use it, how to keep the legions loyal and happy. During his reign, he increased troops’ pay and in a radical move, allowed soldiers to get married. Severus was good to his troops, his Pannonian Legions and victorious Parthian veterans, some of whom fought for him in Caledonia. He promoted equestrians to ranks previously reserved for aristocrats and lower ranks to equestrian status. There was a lot of mobility within the rank system at the time due to Severus ‘democratization’ of the army. Remember, this was an emperor who favoured his troops, especially those who distinguished themselves. However, as Lucius Metellus Anguis discovers in Isle of the Blessed, there are prices to be paid. No favour is free, and being close to the imperial court can be perilous.

Emperor Septimius Severus

One of the most interesting characters of the period is Empress Julia Domna. She appears as one of the strongest women in Rome’s history, an equal partner in power with her husband who heeded her advice but also respected her. Julia Domna was the first of the so-called ‘Syrian women’, hailing from Antioch where her father had been the respected high priest of Baal at Emesa (Homs in modern Syria).

Julia Domna was also highly intelligent, known as a philosopher, and had a group of leading scholars and rhetoricians about her. They came from around the Empire to be a part of her circle, to win commissions from her. Her strength also bought her a great many enemies, including the previous Praetorian Prefect and kinsman to Severus, Gaius Fulvius Plautianus. In Caledonia however, years after the death of Plautianus, with her husband’s health deteriorating rapidly, she must have worried a great deal about the dual succession of their sons, Caracalla and Geta, both of whom brought a tenseness to the court.

Julia Domna

By all accounts Caracalla and Geta, Severus’ heirs, were both at odds much of the time. The two brothers seem to have tolerated each other’s presence and competed fiercely back in Rome, even in the hippodrome where at one point they raced each other so aggressively on their chariots that they ended up with several broken bones, almost leaving their father without a successor.

Caracalla seems to have been the favourite of the empress, though in later years Julia Domna does come to Geta’s defence, however much in vain.

One of the main reasons the sources give for the Caledonian campaign was that Septimius Severus believed it would be good for his sons, a way to teach them, give them focus, and prepare them to succeed him together. If anything, however, the angry chasm between the brothers grew worse the more their father’s light faded.

Caracalla

Caracalla, the older of the two brothers and about twenty-two at the time of the campaign, was the more martial of the pair. While Geta was appointed to administer the province from Eburacum, Caracalla went north to fight alongside the troops.

Did resentment build in the young Caesar as he fought, away from the court? Suspicion? Paranoia? Perhaps it was all of that and more? During the first phase of the Caledonian campaign, when Severus was about to agree to peace with Argentocoxus, the Caledonian leader, it is said that Caracalla nearly murdered his father in front of everyone, an episode that plays out in the previous novel, Warriors of Epona.

Caracalla was eager for the imperial throne, so much so that, as Herodian tell us, “he tried to persuade the physicians to harm the old man in their treatments so that he would be rid of him more quickly.”

Denarius of Publius Septimius Geta

And what of Geta, Severus’ younger son and heir?

He seems to have been entrusted with much as far as the administration of Britannia during the Caledonian campaign, so he must have been skilled to some extent. However, from what little we know of him, he was not the survivor that his brother was, and most likely lacked the ambition that was needed in the imperial court.

He was respected by people at court and by the army, but this was perhaps due more to his parentage and position than his actions over the course of his short life.

Whatever impact Geta had over the years, perhaps the most prominent was his ability to anger his brother by way of his mere existence.

Aemilius Papinianus

One of the main players at the imperial court was Aemilius Papinianus, or ‘Papinian’ (A.D. 150-212), Prefect of the Praetorian Guard.

Papinianus is a fascinating man, a man of intelligence who was thrust, perhaps unwillingly, into one of the most powerful and perilous positions in the Roman Empire.

After the death of Gaius Fulvius Plautianus in A.D. 205, as told in Killing the Hydra, Severus appointed Papinianus as prefect of the guard. Before that, he had been a brilliant jurist (lawyer), legal expert, and had served as Severus’ main secretary. He was Syrian, and it seems likely that he was a cousin of the empress, Julia Domna. Perhaps that is why he was so trusted.

Papinianus, in his day, wrote many legal texts and was a great believer in the equity of the law. But what must he have thought to see the risk of all that Severus built over the years – with his advice – turning to ash after the succession of Caracalla and Geta?

It must have been dark days for the reluctant Praetorian Prefect.

Domitius Ulpianus

Lurking in the shadows of Papinianus was his long-time apprentice and fellow jurist, Domitius Ulpianus, or ‘Ulpian’ (A.D. 170-223).

It seems that Ulpianus was also a brilliant lawyer who served as a secretary under Severus (beneath Papinianus), and then became Papinianus’ right hand when the latter was made Praetorian Prefect.

Interestingly, Ulpianus’ writings were very influential on Roman law and later, on the laws of Medieval Europe.

But what must he have thought constantly playing second to Papinianus? Did the apprentice ever feel jealous of the master, or try to outdo him? We don’t know for certain, but what we do know is that he survived the tough years ahead, and so he must have been close to Caracalla. In fact, Ulpianus went on to become sole Praetorian Prefect in A.D. 223 under Emperor Severus Alexander. He must have been a survivor.

A Roman tutor and his students

There are two other men who played a very prominent role at the imperial court, who had the emperor and empress’ utmost trust, but who had also incurred the wrath of Caracalla.

Euodus, was the long-time tutor of Caracalla and Geta, and was still with the family when they went north during the Caledonian campaign. It seems that life was easier when the young caesars were smaller, but as the years went by and the animosity between them grew worse, Euodus’ job was more to try and nurture harmony between the brothers, something he evidently failed at.

This man may have felt he had much influence at court, and perhaps he did. But his constant attentions, his preachings perhaps, would prove to be more of an aggravation to Caracalla. Euodus would pay for it.

Roman freedmen

Likewise, Castor, who was Septimius Severus’ most trusted chamberlain, had a prominent role at court. He was a freedman of Severus’, elevated from a lowly rank to having the emperor’s ear, and his confidence, on a daily basis.

It is said that Castor was one of the imperial court members who most annoyed Caracalla. He was there at every turn, even when Severus reprimanded his son for attempting to kill him in front of the Caledonii at the end of the first campaign.

As Cassius Dio tell us, both Castor and Euodus did not fare well when Severus finally passed.

Astrology played an enormous role in the life and decisions of Septimius Severus

There were others who played a crucial role in the imperial court and would have been present at Eburacum during Severus’ time there.

As almost fanatical believers in astrology, Septimius Severus and Julia Domna would have had their primary astrologer, possibly named Artemidoros, with them at all times. He would have done daily readings for them, advised on any action, civic, personal, or military, and was probably the one who determined the date of Severus’ death before they even left Rome.

The sources say little to nothing about him, but his role would have been an important one, his influence upon the emperor and empress great.

Artist impression of a Roman doctor at work

As someone who would have been ill for many years, Septimius Severus would have required medical attention on a daily basis, especially at the end. His physicians would have been there, at the heart of imperial politics, hearing and seeing much, including Caracalla’s aforementioned request to speed his father’s passing.

These doctors, who had refused Caracalla’s request (threat?), likely grew extremely wary as their patient’s health deteriorated more by the day in the British climate.

Roman York (Eburacum), c. A.D. 210. Aerial reconstruction by Tracy Croft, English Heritage

To this point, we’ve discussed the people whom we know to have been present at the imperial court. In truth, however, there would have been many hundreds (thousands?) who were a part of the imperial machine and civil service who were present in Eburacum. After all, the Empire was being administered from there during that time.

There are also some other key players who may have been present.

It is quite possible that Julia Domna’s sister, Julia Maesa, may have been present. After her sister, Julia Maesa was perhaps one of the most influential of the ‘Syrian Woman’. She and her daughters, Julia Soaemias Bassiana and Julia Avita Mamaea (mother of later Emperor Severus Alexander) would be extremely influential in the years to come.

It would not be surprising if Julia Maesa were present at court, close to the heart of things. She was apparently close to Caracalla too, and this would have protected her and her daughters. She survived until A.D. 226.

Gold ‘aureus’ of Julia Maesa

With much of the government following the emperor, one has to wonder if there were not also a certain number of senators present in Eburacum as well.

If so, it is possible that Cassius Dio was there. As the primary, contemporary source for the reign of Septimius Severus, it would not be surprising if he were present in Britannia for at least a portion of the campaign.

How many Roman senators might have been present in Eburacum? Was Cassius Dio among them?

Then there is Caracalla’s wife, Plautilla, and her brother Plautius. Were they present? Or did Caracalla want to keep her as far from him as possible, as it was said that she was ever an annoyance to him in previous years.

If the names of Plautilla and Plautius are somewhat familiar to you, it may be that that is because they are the children of Gaius Fulvius Plautianus, the traitorous Praetorian Prefect who was dispatched by Caracalla and others in a plot in A.D. 205, with Julia Domna no doubt working toward that end in the background.

As for his wife and brother-in-law, Cassius Dio said that Caracalla had them killed when to took power, but whether it was immediately, or upon his return to Rome is not stated.

Map of Roman Britain prior to reign of Severus (Wikimedia Commons)

Another person who may have been in Eburacum for much of the time, and who may have found his work partially hi-jacked by the presence of the imperial family and the administrations of Geta, was Gaius Junius Faustinus Postumianus. He was the provincial governor of Britannia Superior, based in Londinium.

Faustinus was an officer in the army previously, before being appointed governor. What did he think about the presence of the imperial court in Britannia, or the waging of war at the borders of his province? No doubt the situation brought him many benefits, but also many headaches, especially when Severus passed from the world.

Of one thing we can be certain, and that is that an imperial court was not a place for the faint of heart.

Who survived, and who fell? Did being close to Severus’ sun mean you would get burned, or thrive?

For a writer of historical fiction, these are interesting questions to be explored with different answers for each player in the drama.

If anything, life at the court of Severus in Eburacum would have been anything but dull, despite the fact that they were on the virtual edge of the Empire.

Thank you for reading.

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