Author: AdamAH

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Theatres in Ancient Rome

Salvete, ancient history-lovers!

Welcome back to the blog and the first post of the New Year on Writing the Past!

Over the years, one of the main goals of this blog has been to share the research I have been doing, whether it is for a fiction work-in-progress, or a wish to share some added knowledge about the ancient world.

For the past few months, I’ve been deep into writing a new novel (a comedy!) set in ancient Rome which has taken me deep into the world of Roman theatre. Today, I would like to share a little snippet of the research that went into this new work of historical fiction.

One of the main questions I had when I set out on this latest project was around the physical structures of the Roman theatre. Of course, I knew about ancient Greek theatres, having visited several in my travels over the years. But what about Roman theatres? Did the Romans simply re-use Greek odea? Did the Romans build their own theatres and, if so, how did they differ from those built by the Greeks?

In this blog post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at theatres in ancient Rome and how they differed structurally from those of the Greeks.

The ancient theatre of Epidaurus

The ancient Greeks were, of course, the progenitors of drama and the theatre. When one thinks of ancient theatre, it’s difficult not to think first of an ancient Greek theatre such as the the magnificent, and still-used, example at ancient Epidaurus in the Peloponnese. Or even the beautiful, silent ruins of the great theatre of Argos. It is quite an experience to sit in the ancient seats and not feel some sort of communal awe from centuries past, looking out to the distant mountains or sea beyond the stage where ancient actors would have enacted stories of gods, goddesses, heroes, and the trials and tribulations of everyday people on their journey through this life.

The ancient Greek playwrights – Euripides, Sophocles, Aeschylus, Aristophanes and others – had a way delving deep into the heart of human emotion and experience and making people linger there so that they would, hopefully, come out of it a bit more enlightened. And in a setting such as those ancient theatres, it would be hard not to.

Having seen comedic and tragic plays performed while sitting with thousands of others beneath the stars is an experience I shall never forget.

But even if one is not moved by the words spoken by the actors, it is difficult not to marvel at the genius of the architecture that allows the audience at the top of the seats to hear a whispered word spoken from the centre of the orchestra.

Ancient theatres really are engineering wonders!

The ancient theatre of Argos, Peloponnese, Greece.

Of course, the men of the Tiber knew a good thing when they saw it, and so they eventually adopted drama and theatres while adding their own Roman flair.

But this took some time, and some convincing…

Drama and theatre first came to Rome through contact with the Greek cities to the south and the Etruscans to the north, who had regular contact with the Greeks. It might have been looked upon with suspicion by conservative Romans at first, but eventually, drama would take hold of the Roman people.

Etruscan Entertainers

In 364 B.C., the Roman Republic was hit by a plague, and in an effort to please the gods and entreat their aid, Rome vowed to hold theatrical festivals in their honour.

To do this, Etruscan actors were brought in and the rest is history. This considered by some to be the start of this new entertainment for the Roman public, an entertainment inspired by the Greek cities of southern Italy.

Theatre of Dionysos, Athens

Plays were originally performed in Greek, but over time Latin playwrights emerged, such as Plautus, Terence, and others. Of course, there were tragedies and comedies in the beginning, but then folk and bawdy plays began to take hold, and the mimes and pantomimes became the most popular among ancient Romans.

To read more about the types of literature in ancient Rome, including drama, CLICK HERE.

We’ll discuss the different types of drama and its evolution in another post at a later date, suffice it to say that theatrical performances eventually became nearly as popular as chariot racing and gladiatorial combat in ancient Rome.

Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, Roman Forum. Play were sometimes performed on temple steps such as this.

There may have been theatres dotted all over territories which Rome had conquered early on, but in the city of Rome itself, there were no stone theatres at first, not like in Greek cities where a theatre was a given sign of civilization.

Early dramatic performances in ancient Rome were either performed on the steps of temples or on temporary wooden stages which were constructed in the Circus Maximus or Roman Forum for festivals. After the performances were finished, they were torn down.

Despite the popular appeal of drama in ancient Rome, conservative elements had a deep dislike of the theatre, viewing it as ‘too Greek’ and opposed to Roman values. The theatre – especially the mimes and pantomimes – were viewed as lewd, and this is a view that continued into the Christian era.

But, even among conservative Romans, it was hard to fight popular appeal, and the theatre was indeed growing in popularity.

Roman Re-enactors on the steps of a temple in Spain (photo: Turismo de Merida)

As we know, the Romans loved their games, or ludi, and by sponsoring these games, Roman magistrates had found a way to win the political favour – and hence, votes! – of the people.

Some examples of games which featured theatrical performances were the Ludi Apollinaris in honour of Apollo (July 6-13) and the Ludi Megalenses in honour of Cybele (April 4-10). 

The building of theatres became a way to win the favour of the people. Unlike today when, sadly, theatre is viewed as something more for the elite or well-to-do, the theatre was, in ancient Rome, for people of all classes!

As mentioned, at first theatres in Rome were temporary and constructed of wood, but as time went on, even these wooden ones became more elaborate.

Artist Impression of temporary wooden stage of Roman period (image: Jean Raia)

In 58 B.C. Marcus Aemilius Scaurus built a wooden stage for performances, but this one had columns of African marble, as well as statues, glass, gold and fabrics to adorn it. The people loved it!

In 52/51 B.C. Gaius Scribonius Curio even built two moveable semi-circular theatres that could be pushed together to build an amphitheatre so that plays could be performed during the day and gladiatorial games viewed at night!

Eventually the time would come when Rome would receive its first stone theatre, despite conservative opposition, and this was given to the people by none other than Pompey the Great.

Reconstruction of the Theatre of Pompey in Rome with attached gardens and temple above the theatre seating.

From 61-55 B.C., Pompey built a magnificent stone theatre for Rome, and he appears to have used his general’s wiles to get it done in a way that tricked conservative dictates. You see, this was not only a theatre, but also a temple complex dedicated to the goddess Venus herself.

Atop the great theatre of Pompey, resting above and behind the seats of the auditorium, was a magnificent temple of Venus. The argument was, it seems, that the theatre itself was simply the substructure of the temple, the ‘real’ purpose of the construction. The gods were now present in the theatre, and no one would have dared to tear it down!

The theatre of Pompey is now, perhaps sadly, known as the place where Julius Caesar was murdered (the senate was meeting there at the time), but more importantly, it was the beginning of a greater acceptance of theatre in the city of Rome.

Indeed, after the accession of Augustus, one of his supporters, one Lucius Cornelius Balbus, built a second stone theatre in Rome, on the Campus Martius, known today as the Theatre of Balbus. It was also roughly about the same time that the Theatre of Marcellus was also dedicated and ready for use by the time of the ludi saeculares of 17 B.C.

Rome now had three large, permanent theatres.

Model of the Theatre of Balbus

These permanent Roman theatres, however, were more than places to stage dramatic performances. They were also meeting places that incorporated religious elements. There were temples, and gardens and courtyards where people could stroll between acts, or meet outside of performances. They became part of the fabric of the city of ancient Rome.

But what were the structural differences between ancient Greek and Roman theatres?

It is impossible to deny the simple beauty of ancient Greek theatres, and the brilliance of their acoustic design. It is truly astounding to sit at the top of the seats and hear someone drop a coin or light a match in the middle of the orchestra!

Plan of an Ancient Greek Theatre

Roman theatres were of course, based on Greek designs. Even the Romans could not deny the acoustic uses!

But whereas Greek theatres, or odea, were normally built into a hillside and had round orchestras where the performance took place, Roman theatres were more often stand-alone structures with semi-circular orchestras where seating was reserved for high-ranking officials, senators, or members of the imperial family. Roman theatres were constructed with solid masonry or vaults that supported the curved or sloping auditorium seats, or cavea. This design sometimes included a colonnaded gallery around the outside that gave easier access to the tiers of seats.

Plan of a Typical Roman Theatre

Another innovation given to the theatre by the Romans was the inclusion of a curtain before the stage. Today, it is hard not to think of a curtain in a theatre, and we owe this to the Romans. The difference was that where today the curtain hangs from above, in a Roman theatre, the curtain, or aulaeum as it was known, retracted into a pit in the floor before the stage at the beginning of the performance, and rose out of it at the end.

The most noticeable difference between Greek and Roman theatres, however, was the Roman scaena.

In an ancient Greek theatre, initially, the chorus and actors performed on the round orchestra, but later on, a raised stage, or proskenion, was incorporated. At the back of this stage, they began to build a one or two-story backdrop known as a skene, the ‘scene’ before which the action took place, and behind which the actors could change. The Greek skene did not obstruct the view beyond the theatre, however, but rather just provided the ornate backdrop.

The Roman scaena, however, was much more substantial, for it more or less enclosed theatre completely and provided a full divider between the audience and backstage.

Scaenae frons in Roman theatres had three or five doors flanked by columns and statues in niches. The scaena and its doors could provide the setting for a street scene, houses, palaces etc., and sometimes it was even sectioned off with smaller curtains called siparia as needed.

The Roman-era theatre of Herodes Atticus, Athens

The Roman scaena also rose to the full height of the theatre itself, either level with the rear seats of the auditorium, or even higher. There was also a wooden roof above the stage of Roman theatres that also acted as a sounding board.

It wasn’t just the actors who were protected from above either, for in some Roman theatres there could also be an awning above the auditorium known as a velarium, to shield the viewers from sun and rain. Roman theatres also had covered porticoes where audience members could go between performances.

The Romans did like their comfort!

The Roman theatre in Thugga, Tunisia.

Were Roman theatres built across the Empire once Rome had made its own innovations in theatrical architecture?

Well, it seems the Romans did make adjustments to some Greek theatres by adding their own scaenae. However, especially in the Hellenistic east, Greek odea continued to be used, only just for more refined performances of music and poetry recitations rather than for populist mimes and pantomimes.

Romans continued to use the odeon design when called for, but sometimes with the addition of a roof. This type of smaller, enclosed and roofed theatre was known as a theatrum tectum. An example of this is the one built in Pompeii in 79 B.C.

Aerial view of theatres of Pompeii. Note the theatrum tectum on bottom right which would have been fully enclosed.

When it comes to theatres and theatrical performance, whatever the genre, the Greeks and Romans did have this in common: theatre was extremely popular with the people and important for the social life of the community, be it in the cultured metropolises of the Empire, or on the distant borders, far from the beating heart of Rome.

The Greeks may have invented theatres, but some might argue that it was the Romans who perfected them.

Roman Theatre of Aspendos, in modern Turkey, is one of the most intact Roman theatres in the world. (Wikimedia Commons)

More posts about Roman theatre are coming soon, but if you are interested, you can check out my previous posts about my visits to the theatres of ancient Argos, and ancient Epidaurus.

Be sure to also check out the post on Literature in Ancient Rome which includes a short discussion of Roman drama.

Thank you for reading!

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Io Saturnalia! – The Great Festival Through the Eyes of Ancient Romans

Io Saturnalia, Romanophiles!

It’s that time of year again, the time which the Roman poet Catullus referred to as optimo dierum, the ‘best of days’.

From December the 17th to the 23rd, Romans and people across the Empire would celebrate Saturn, the Winter Solstice, and the Unconquerable Sun. It can only be described as a joyous, indulgent carnival atmosphere that involved, eating, drinking, candles, holly, gifts, music, gambling, dressing up (or down!) and more. In fact many of the traditions of Saturnalia have informed our own traditions of Christmastime.

To read all about the specific traditions of Saturnalia, check out the previous post entitled Io Saturnalia! – Celebrating ‘The best of days’ in Ancient Rome by CLICKING HERE.

This year, we’re going to be looking at the festival of Saturnalia from a different angle, that is, through the eyes of ancient writers!

What did Saturnalia mean for people in ancient Rome? Was it like Christmas for us today? Did they look forward it? Did they dread the expense and preparation it required to entertain or put a smile upon the faces of their familiae?

In this brief blog post, we’re going to hear from several ancient authors about what they thought of the various aspects of this ancient and sacred festival…

The Gods Command You to Have a Good Time!

The rule of Saturnus was thought to be a mythological ‘golden age’ for Rome, and this festival harkens back to that. It honours Saturn who was the chthonic (of the earth) Roman god of seed sowing, who was often equated with the Greek god Cronus.

The Greek writer, Lucian of Samosata (c. 125-180 CE), in his dialogue, Saturnalia, relates a conversation between the god Cronus (ie. Saturn) and his priest, in which he declares that people should enjoy themselves during his festival:

Mine is a limited monarchy, you see. To begin with, it only lasts a week; that over, I am a private person, just a man in the street. Secondly, during my week the serious is barred; no business allowed. Drinking and being drunk, noise and games and dice, appointing of kings and feasting of slaves, singing naked, clapping of tremulous hands, an occasional ducking of corked faces in icy water,–such are the functions over which I preside. But the great things, wealth and gold and such, Zeus distributes as he will.

(Lucian, Saturnalia II)

This one paragraph is a wonderful source for us today because it highlights some of the most important traditions and activities of Saturnalia. and if the Gods command it, well, you HAVE to obey!

But Saturnalia was not always seven days in duration. At first, it was only a single day. As it grew in popularity, however, this expanded.

The ancient author Macrobius Theodosius Ambrosius (c. 400 CE), usually referred to simply as Macrobius, wrote what is perhaps the most famous work on this ancient festival. He acknowledges and praises the changes that led to a longer festival:

Long awaited, the seven Saturnalia are now at hand… “Our ancestors instituted many fine customs, and this is the best: from the deepest chill they produced the seven-day Saturnalia.”

(Macrobius, Saturnalia 10.3)

In addition to a lengthy period of merrymaking, just as today, things shut down for a few days. From December 17th, to December 19th, everything closed in Rome. No business was transacted and no war was waged. In a way, everyone was bound by divine decree to enjoy themselves!

Enjoy the Feast!

Just as with our own sacred days, food and eating played a major part in the Saturnalian festivities. The main sacrifice to Saturn consisted of a suckling pig, and this is what most Romans ate, if they could afford it.

The roman authorities also put on public feasts for the people of Rome, so everyone got a chance to enjoy and indulge a little. This convivium publicum was held in the Roman forum and the image of the God Saturn, presided over it.

The famous Roman historian, Titus Livius (c. 64 BCE – 12 CE), wrote about this public feast:

Finally-the month was now December – victims were slain at the temple of Saturn in Rome and a lectisternium was ordered – this time senators administered the rite – and a public feast, and throughout the City for a day and a night “Saturnalia” was cried, and the people were bidden to keep that day as a holiday and observe it in perpetuity.

(Livy, The History of Rome, Book I, XXII – 1.19)

Saturnalia was indeed a time of good will and everyone, rich and poor, master and slave, enjoyed some portion of the festivities.

A Time of Opposites

One thing that was unique to Saturnalia was the encouragement to do the opposite of what was considered normal. Rules were meant to be broken. For example, public gambling was encouraged without risk of punishment, but they did not gamble with coin, but rather, with hazelnuts! Instead of their usual toga or tunic, men wore a brightly coloured garment called a synthesis, and a pointy felt cap called a pileus. Priests at the temples and the paterfamiliae in private homes, who usually made sacrifices with their heads covered, made sacrifices during Saturnalia with their heads uncovered in the ritus Graecus, the ‘Greek fashion’.

Perhaps the most well-known, and looked-forward-to tradition for some, was the role reversal of master and slave. At one point during Saturnalia, the masters prepared and served dinner to their slaves, and gave them presents as well. Macrobius describes this for us:

Meanwhile, the head of the slave household, whose responsibility it was to offer sacrifice to the Penates, to manage the provisions and to direct the activities of the domestic servants, came to tell his master that the household had feasted according to the annual ritual custom. For at this festival, in houses that keep the proper religious usage, they first of all honour the slaves with a dinner prepared as if for the master; and only afterwards is the table set again for the head of the household. So, then, the chief slave came in to announce the time of dinner and to summon the masters to the table.

(Macrobius, Saturnalia, 1.24.22-23)

In the above quote, Macrobius references ‘houses that keep the proper religious usage’, and so, by this reference, one has to infer that there were houses where such traditions were not kept, religious or not. Surely there were houses where the slaves of the familia were treated better than in others? Those slaves whose masters observed the proper traditions of Saturnalia were, no doubt, the envy of others whose masters took a more miserly view of Saturnalia.

It does seem like most masters were happy to honour the tradition of trading places with their slaves for part of the festival, but no doubt some masters had to deal with impertinent slaves as well!

In his Satyricon, Gaius Petronius Arbiter (27-66 CE), often known simply as Petronius, refers to masters having to deal with impudent slaves during a feast, and of giving gifts to slaves:

Taking everything that was said for high praise, the foul slave now drew an earthenware lamp from his bosom, and for more than half an hour mimicked a trumpeter, while Habinnas accompanied him, squeezing his lip down with his fingers. Finally he actually stepped out into the middle of the room, and first imitated a flute player by means of broken reeds; then with riding-cloak and whip, acted the muleteer, till Habinnas called him to his side and kissed him, gave him a drink and cried, “Bravo! Massa, bravo! I’ll give you a pair of boots.”

We should never have seen the end of these tiresome inflictions but for the extra-course now coming in,- thrushes of pastry, stuffed with raisins and walnuts, followed by quinces stuck over with thorns, to represent sea-urchins. This would have been intolerable enough, had it not been for a still more outlandish dish, such a horrible concoction, we would rather have died than touch it. Directly it was on the table,- to all appearance a fatted goose, with fish and fowl of all kinds round it. “Friends,” cried Trimalchio, “every single thing you see on that dish is made out of one substance.” With my wonted perspicacity, I instantly guessed its nature, and said, giving Agamemnon a look, “For my own part, I shall be greatly surprised, if it is not all made of filth, or at any rate mud. When I was in Rome at the Saturnalia, I saw some sham eatables of the same sort.” I had not done speaking when Trimalchio explained, “As I hope to grow a bigger man,- in fortune I mean, not fat,- I declare my cook made it every bit out of a pig. Never was a more invaluable fellow! Give the word, he’ll make you a fish of the paunch, a wood-pigeon of the lard, a turtle-dove of the forehand, and a hen of the hind leg! And that’s why I very cleverly gave him such a fine and fitting name as Daedalus. And because he’s such a good servant, I brought him a present from Rome, a set of knives of Noric steel.” These he immediately ordered to be brought, and examined and admired them, even allowing us to try their edge on our cheeks.

(Petronius, Satyricon LXIX)

One imagines that a master could, when in company, be embarrassed by his slaves’ behaviour as is so hilariously portrayed by Petronius above. Though the feast of Trimalchio in Satyricon is not a Saturnalia feast, it carries many similarities, as well as a reference to the sacred festival.

But it was not only slaves who sought to call upon Saturnalia for better treatment from their masters. Cassius Dio, in The Roman History, relays how the troops in Britannia, under the command of Aulus Plautius, invoke Saturnalia when they are most upset with their commander:

While these events were happening in the city, Aulus Plautius, a senator of great renown, made a campaign against Britain; for a certain Bericus, who had been driven out of the island as a result of an uprising, had persuaded Claudius to send a force thither. Thus it came about that Plautius undertook this campaign; but he had difficulty in inducing his army to advance beyond Gaul. For the soldiers were indignant at the thought of carrying on a campaign outside the limits of the known world, and would not yield him obedience until Narcissus, who had been sent out by Claudius, mounted the tribunal of Plautius and attempted to address them. Then they became much angrier at this and would not allow Narcissus to say a word, but suddenly shouted with one accord the well-known cry, “Io Saturnalia” (for at the festival of Saturn the slaves don their masters’ dress and old festival), and at once right willingly followed Plautius…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History LX 19)

A Time of Gift-Giving

December the 19th, the third day of Saturnalia, was the all-important day of the sigillaria. Sigillaria were gifts that were given to family members, to friends, guests, and even to slaves.

Just as today at Christmas, gifts given at Saturnalia varied widely and in accordance with one’s budget and social status. The poet Marcus Varlerius Matialis (c. 38-102 CE), known as Martial, wrote about the giving of gifts at Saturnalia:

Now, while the knights and the lordly senators delight in the festive robe, and the cap of liberty is assumed by our Jupiter; and while the slave, as he rattles the dice-box, has no fear of the Aedile, seeing that the ponds are so nearly frozen, learn alternately what is allotted to the rich and to the poor. Let each make suitable presents to his friends. That these contributions of mine are follies and trifles, and even worse, who does not know? or who denies what is so evident? But what can I do better, Saturn, on these days of pleasure, which your son himself has consecrated to you in compensation for the heaven from which he ejected you? Would you have me write of Thebes, or of Troy, or of the crimes of Mycenae? You reply, “Play with nuts. But I don’t want to waste even nuts. Reader, you may finish this book wherever you please, every subject is completed in a couple of lines.

(Martial, Epigrams XIV)

Martial seems to have especially enjoyed the gift-giving aspect of Saturnalia, for his works, Xenia, and Apophoreta, were apparently given as gifts during this ancient festival. In his Epigrams, he also gives a long list of gifts that are suitable for Saturnalia, and there is something to fit every budget.

Some of the possible gifts for guests at feasts which Martial lists include tablets (of wood or ivory); coffers (wood to hold silver, ivory to hold gold); a dice box; a gaming table; a pen case; toothpicks; ear picks; hair pins; combs; balls; hats; knives; spears; a sword and belt; a dagger; a bookcase; bundles of reed pens; candles (cerei); candlesticks; games; balls; dumbbells; leather caps; strigils; flasks; horse whips; reed pipes; slippers; pigs; various birds; vases; cups; furniture etc. etc.

Cut Out That Racket!

Not everyone enjoyed Saturnalia, however, and just as many may not look forward to the holidays today, so too did some Romans dread the advent of Saturn’s festival.

How many of us, when caught up in the chaos of entertaining and large family gatherings (before our modern plague, that is), longed for some quiet time to catch our breath? The introverts among us especially need occasion to recharge before heading back into the partying throng, no?

It was the same for the Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus (c. 61-113 CE), Pliny the Younger, who relayed his need to escape the festivities:

Adjoining it is an ante-room and a chamber projected towards the sun, which the latter room catches immediately upon his rising, and retains his rays beyond mid-day though they fall aslant upon it. When I betake myself into this sitting-room, I seem to be quite away even from my villa, and I find it delightful to sit there, especially during the Saturnalia, when all the rest of the house rings with the merriment and shouts of the festival-makers; for then I do not interfere with their amusements, and they do not distract me from my studies.

(Pliny the Younger, Epistles II.17.24)

Pliny doesn’t seem to want to be a party-pooper, and so kindly withdraws to allow his guests to carry on with their revelry. 

However, not everyone would have been so kind.

Enter Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c. 4-65 CE), the Scrooge of his age, it seems, for he paints a dire and distasteful picture of the Saturnalian revels going on around him:

It is the month of December, and yet the city is at this very moment in a sweat. Licence is given to the general merrymaking. Everything resounds with mighty preparations, – as if the Saturnalia differed at all from the usual business day! So true it is that the difference is nil, that I regard as correct the remark of the man who said: “Once December was a month; now it is a year.”

If I had you with me, I should be glad to consult you and find out what you think should be done, – whether we ought to make no change in our daily routine, or whether, in order not to be out of sympathy with the ways of the public, we should dine in gayer fashion and doff the toga. As it is now, we Romans have changed our dress for the sake of pleasure and holiday-making, though in former times that was only customary when the State was disturbed and had fallen on evil days. I am sure that, if I know you aright, playing the part of an umpire you would have wished that we should be neither like the liberty-capped throng in all ways, nor in all ways unlike them; unless, perhaps, this is just the season when we ought to lay down the law to the soul, and bid it be alone in refraining from pleasures just when the whole mob has let itself go in pleasures; for this is the surest proof which a man can get of his own constancy, if he neither seeks the things which are seductive and allure him to luxury, nor is led into them. It shows much more courage to remain dry and sober when the mob is drunk and vomiting; but it shows greater self-control to refuse to withdraw oneself and to do what the crowd does, but in a different way, – thus neither making oneself conspicuous nor becoming one of the crowd. For one may keep holiday without extravagance.

(Seneca, Epistles XVIII, Letters to Lucilius)

A Time of Hope

Even though some people, like Seneca, seemed to dread the coming of Saturnalia, for most it was a time of hope and celebration, a time to honour Saturn and each other, and to celebrate the Solstice and the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, the birthday of the Unconquerable Sun.

It was something to look forward to at the darkest time of year.

Perhaps not that much changes? In the West, many of us look forward to December and the celebrations that do stretch on for some time.

The Greco-Roman poet, Publius Papinius Statius (c. 45-96 CE), in one of his poems, relates the feelings of hope and joy which many must have felt with the coming of December:

Mighty Apollo, and stern Pallas

And you Muses, away and play!

We’ll recall you on Janus’ Kalends.

Let unchained Saturn join with me,

And December soaked with wine,

Smiling Humour and wanton Jest,

While of happy Caesar’s joyous

Day I tell, and of tipsy feasting.

Scarce had Aurora brought the dawn,

And already good things rained down:

These the dews the easterly sprinkled:

Whichever are best of Pontic nuts,

And dates from Idume’s fertile hills,

And plums pious Damascus grows,

And figs Ebusos and Caunos ripen,

Freely the lavish spoils descend.

And pastries and ‘little Gaiuses’

Ameria’s un-dried apples and pears,

Spiced cakes and ripened dates,

Shower from an unseen palm.

Not stormy Hyas drenches Earth

Nor the Pleiades with such showers

As rattled down on the Latian theatre

Like bursts of hail from a clear sky.

Let Jupiter cloud the whole world

Threaten to deluge the open fields,

So long as our Jove brings such rain.

Look, along the aisles comes another

Crowd, handsome and finely dressed,

No less in number than those seated!

These bring bread-baskets and white

Napkins, and elegant delicacies to eat,

Those pour out mellow wine freely:

So many cupbearers down from Ida.

The fourteen rows, now virtuous, sober,

Are fed, with the people wearing gowns;

And since you nourish so many, Lord,

Annona, the price of corn’s, outweighed.

Ages, compare now, if it’s your wish,

Old Saturn’s centuries, golden days:

Never flowed wine so, even then,

Nor did harvest anticipate new year.

Every order eats here at the one table:

Women, children, knights, plebs, Senate:

Freedom has set aside reverence.

Why you yourself (which of the gods

Issues and accepts his own invitation?)

Have come to the feast along with us.

Now all, now whoever, rich or poor

Can boast of dining with our leader.

Amid the din, and rich novelties,

The pleasant spectacle flickers by.

The unskilled sex, unused to swords,

Take position in warlike combat.

They seem like troops of Amazons

In heat, by Tanais or wild Phasis.

Here’s a line of audacious midgets,

Whom Nature suddenly left off making,

And tied forever in spherical knots.

They deal wounds and ply their fists

And threaten each other with death!

Mars and blood-stained Courage laugh

While cranes swoop at their errant prey

Wondering at their pigmy pugnacity.

Now as the shades of night gather,

A scattering of riches provokes tumult!

The girls enter, now readily bought,

Here’s whatever delights the stalls,

Pleasing forms, or established skill.

Here, the fat Lydian ladies applaud,

There are cymbals, jingling Spaniards,

And there, the troops of noisy Syrians.

Here’s the theatre-mob, and those who

Barter common sulphur for broken glass.

Meanwhile vast flocks of birds suddenly

Swoop like clouds from among the stars,

Flamingos, pheasants and guinea fowl,

That Nile, Phasis and Numidia capture.

Too many to seize; the folds of gowns

Are happily filled with new-won prizes.

Countless voices, that rise to the stars,

Proclaim the Emperor’s Saturnalia,

Acclaim him leader with fond applause.

Here’s the only licence Caesar banned:

Barely had darkness cloaked the world,

When a fiery ball from the arena’s midst

Shone as it rose through the dense gloom,

Exceeding the light of the Cretan crown.

The sky was bright with flame, permitting

No licence at all to night’s dark shadows.

At the sight of it, idle Silence and Sleep

Must take themselves off to other cities.

Who could sing the free jests, the shows,

The banquets, the home-grown foodstuffs,

Those lavishly flowing rivers of wine?

Now my strength ebbs, and your liquor

Drags me tipsily towards needful slumber.

To what distant ages shall this day travel?

Sacred, undiminished, through the years.

Whilst Latium’s hills, by Father Tiber,

And Rome, still stand, and its Capitol,

That you restore to Earth: it shall remain.

(Statius, Silvae 1.6)

I do love this poem by Statius, for it seems to envelop all the religious beliefs, traditions, chaos and revelry of Saturnalia. It paints of picture of life in ancient Rome like no other.

It may not have been enjoyed by all, but it was, perhaps, the most universally celebrated festival across all classes of Romans, something to be looked forward to and shared, something to be honoured.

And with that, I say to you, dear reader, Io Saturnalia!

I hope you enjoyed this post about what ancient Romans thought of Saturnalia.

This ancient festival is a wonderful subject to research and write about, for it brings the world of ancient Rome to colourful and vivid life!

If you would like to experience ancient Rome during Saturnalia, you will want to check out Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome. 

Many of the sources mentioned above helped to inform the research for this book which is also a sort of homage to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and our own holiday traditions.

You can get Saturnalia from all major bookstores and on-line retailers in e-book or paperback, from your local public library through OverDrive, as well as directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

For a taste of the book, see the video below in which I read an excerpt.

From all of us at Eagles and Dragons Publishing, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Solstice, and Io Saturnalia!

 

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Mythologia: The Reluctant Hero – Retelling the Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera

What does it take to make a real Hero? In this vast world filled with mortals, what makes one stand out in the eyes of the Gods?

These questions are not new. They’ve been explored in storytelling for millennia. They have inspired us and guided us, and forced us to take an honest look at ourselves.

The stories in mythology are not just about entertainment, they are about teaching, about bettering ourselves and preparing each of us for our own ‘Hero’s Journey’ through this life.

We’ve all been tested these last couple of years through the modern plague we are enduring and, I suspect, we’ve all had to take a good look at ourselves, our purpose, and the lives we lead. It’s not easy, to be sure, but such introspection is essential to our survival.

In a way, we are, each of us, the hero in our respective stories.

Which leads me to the story of a hero from Greek and Roman Mythology: Bellerophon.

Last week, Eagles and Dragons Publishing launched the fourth book in the Mythologia fantasy series, The Reluctant Hero: The Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera.

In this short post, we’re going to take a brief look why I wanted to re-tell this particular myth, as well as discuss the research that went into bringing it to life in this new, full-length novel in the series.

Bellerophon and the Chimera

SPOILER ALERT!

If you plan on reading, or have not yet finished The Reluctant Hero, you may wish to finish the book before reading this blog post…

The myth of Bellerophon and the Chimera is one that I have been wanting to explore for some time, not only because it provided an opportunity to tell the story of a good old ‘monster battle’, but also because it involved the winged horse, Pegasus.

When I was a child of about six, my first taste of Greek Mythology was seeing the original Clash of the Titans film, and every time I watched it, Pegasus was always the focus of my attention. I loved seeing Pegasus, and wished for such an ally and friend. It was Pegasus who brought me to Bellerophon, though at first I had only associated him with the hero Perseus.

Fresco of Bellerophon, Pegasus and Athena from Pompeii (Wikimedia Commons)

It is strange that most people will know the myth of Perseus, but have only a passing knowledge of Bellerophon, mainly as it relates to the Chimera, and not the man himself. In truth, Bellerophon is one of the central heroes of Greek Mythology, but we seem to have forgotten about him somewhat in the modern age. Perhaps this is due to the film that I, like so many, enjoyed as a child? Popular culture is a powerful thing in the modern age.

I thought it was time to give Bellerophon his due, and the Mythologia series was the perfect place to do it.

When it comes to the Greek myths, the primary sources are often sparse and scattered, our knowledge of them pieced together through fragments of text, artwork, and retellings by Roman writers in later centuries.

Many ancient writers mention Bellerophon and the Chimera, such as Hesiod (Theogony), Pindar (Olympian 13; Isthmian 7), Euripides, and Apollodorus. However, the earliest mention of Bellerophon comes from Homer in the sixth book of the Iliad in which, Glaucus, the grandson of Bellerophon, tells others of his lineage and the story of his grandfather and the Chimera. It is actually quite a long description of the tale, which is a blessing for later writers and ourselves. Interestingly, the description of Bellerophon’s tale by Homer is the first and only mention of actual writing in the Iliad. In reference to the letter that King Proetus has Bellerophon carry to King Iobates of Lykia, Homer writes:

To slay him he [King Proetus] forbare, for his soul had awe of that; but he sent him to Lycia, and gave him baneful tokens, graving in a folded tablet many signs and deadly, and bade him show these to his own wife’s father, that he [Bellerophon] might be slain.

(Homer, Iliad, Book 6, 170)

The sources are varied to be sure. Homer speaks of Bellerophon fighting and defeating the Solymi, the Amazons, and the Chimera, but makes no mention of Pegasus. However, Hesiod does mention that Pegasus and Bellerophon both defeated the Chimera who was the offspring of Typhon and Echidna, and the sibling of Cerberos (the three-headed hound of Hades), and the Lernaean Hydra which Herakles later defeated. It is a fascinating, and sometimes difficult, process to link together the various traditions of a particular myth to create a coherent story, but I believe it has worked in the case of Bellerophon and the Chimera.

The Chimera of Arezzo

Some readers may notice that, for the purposes of the story I wanted to tell, I have changed the order of Bellerophon’s tasks. In Homer, for instance, Bellerophon first slays the Chimera, then fights the Solymi, and finally, defeats the Amazons. Because I wanted the Chimera to be the climactic battle, I thought that it was acceptable to change this order. However, the battle with the Chimera did not end up being the primary focus of this book. Originally, as mentioned above, I had the idea of writing a ‘monster-battle’ novel, but as often happens, things changed as the story developed. At its heart, Greek Mythology is often about very human trials and emotions. To me, though the battle with the Chimera is the climax of the book, the main focus is Bellerophon’s journey from a shadowy no-one to a true hero as he overcomes his own demons and finally discovers himself.

Map showing location of Corinth, Argos and Tiryns

As usual, I have also tried to set the story in the real-world locations in which it was said to have taken place. I have opted to use the name of Bellerophon’s home of Corinthos (Corinth) because it is familiar to us today, but in the ancient texts, and at that time, it was known as Ephyra. I visited ancient Corinth on my first trip to Greece many years ago and remembered being overwhelmed by it, but also saddened at the destruction wrought by Rome on that great and ancient city. It was then that I visited the Acrocorinthos, the enormous mountain that overlooks the city.

Ancient Corinth and the Acrocorinthos (Photos: A Haviaras)

Today, all one sees on the Acrocorinthos are the remnants of the vast medieval castle, but it was not difficult to imagine the place during the Greek Heroic Age. To stand up there and look down on Corinth and the sweeping beauty of the lands south toward Mycenae and Argos over the mountains is, simply-put, breathtaking. I decided to make that the place where Bellerophon’s story begins, where he trains and commits the act that gets him banished from his home, specifically the killing of Belleros which gives Bellerophon his name, ‘Belleros Killer’.

There are other sites in the first part of the tale that you might be familiar with, such as Argos, and the great fortress of Tiryns where Bellerophon stays with King Proetus and Queen Stheneboea (also known as Anteia). Having visited those sites, it was a joy to go back to them and write about the landscape and palace of Tiryns especially. To read more about Tiryns, that ancient fortress of myth and legend, you can read a blog post about my visit HERE.

Artist Reconstruction of the Citadel of Tiryns

Another ancient site that is truly fascinating is the guardhouse where Bellerophon first meets King Proetus’ men. I located this guardhouse at the mysterious Pyramid of Hellinikon, just outside of Argos. This site is believed to be either a tomb, or a guardhouse built during the wars between Proetus and his brother, Acrisios. You can read about the pyramid and watch a short video tour of the site HERE.

The Pyramid of Hellinikon near Argos

Once Bellerophon journeyed across the sea, I was in uncharted territory for myself, never having travelled to modern-day Turkey where the ancient Kingdom of Lykia is located. The research for this was fascinating.

Map showing where parts of The Reluctant Hero take place

Not far from the Greek islands of Rhodes and Kastellorizo is the mouth of the river Xanthos which leads north a short distance to the ancient city of Xanthos (outside modern Kinik). This ancient Greek and Roman city had many structures such as a theatre, agora, monuments and shrines, as well as unique ‘pedestal tombs’, but there is very little in the way of remains for the period in which this story takes place. There was an acropolis overlooking the river below, and that is where I chose to set King Iobates’ palace in the story.

Likewise, I elaborated on the fictional village of the Solymi where Bellerophon fights the leader of their tribe, though their lands were located in the ancient region known as Pisidia.

When it comes to the Amazons, I chose to set their capital in Phrygia since it was said that there were Amazon tribes in that remote region north of Lykia. In searching for a geographic setting, I chose the ancient city of Hierapolis which is located at modern Pamukkale, known for its mineral-rich thermal waters flowing down white travertine terraces on a nearby hillside. This was a sort of ancient spa town, but for the purposes of this story, I decided to make it the Amazon base.

The hot springs at Pamukkale,Turkey, in ancient Phrygia.

In Turkey today, there is a place known as Mount Chimera, and this is located near the sea to the southwest of Xanthos. Though I chose to make this a remote mountain region to the northeast in the story, I did try to remain true to the setting, mainly the Chimera’s cave and the strange fires that are constantly burning from out of the rocky earth in that place. These are in fact methane gas emissions that are on fire, and have been for centuries, but for as long as people can remember, they have been called ‘fires of the Chimera’. It is here that the climactic battle in the story takes place.

The Cave and Fires of the Chimera (Lykia) (Wikimedia Commons)

Lastly, there is a bit of a nod to my own heritage at the end of the book when Bellerophon and Polyidus meet on the island of Chios, where the paternal side of my family comes from. The reason I chose to do this is because on the island, just north of Chios town, near the sea, is a site known as ‘Homer’s Rock’ or ‘Daskalopetra’. In Greek, daskalos means ‘teacher’, and it was said that Homer himself used to sit upon this rock and tell his tales of the Trojan War and of Odysseus’ travels. This was my acknowledgment of that tradition.

Daskalopetra – Homer’s Rock (Chios, Greece)

One of the most difficult tasks of writing this story was figuring out the family tree and timelines for the characters inhabiting the story. I soon realized that with so many references over time to various characters, it is not as clean-cut as one might think. One question I wrestled with was whether Perseus lived before or after Bellerophon, for the latter dealt with King Proetus whose brother was King Acrisios, the father of Danae, Perseus’ mother. Another question was, which Amazon queen was alive when Bellerophon faced the Amazons. At first I thought it would be Myrina, who was supposedly a friend of Horus (yes, the Egyptian Horus), but then I read that Queen Otrera was the mother of both Hippolyta and Penthesilea. However, Otrera is also said to be the very first Amazon queen. It is all a bit confusing for the modern reader and researcher, but when I decided not to cling to an absolute timeline, the story began to take shape beautifully.

Amazon Warrior (depiction c. 500 B.C)

In mythology, Bellerophon’s parents are Eurymede (sometimes known as Eurynome) of Megara and Glaucus, the son of Sisyphus who founded Corinth and who was one of the great sinners the Gods imprisoned in Tartarus for all time. Mythology does indeed tell us that Glaucus was eaten by his own horses after losing the chariot race at the funeral games of Pelias, and this trauma haunts Bellerophon in this version of the story.

As I have mentioned, King Proetus of Tiryns was the brother of King Acrisios of Argos, and he was married to Stheneboea of Lykia, the eldest daughter of King Iobates, who did send troops to help Proetus in the war against his brother.

King Iobates is one of the main characters in the myth, and in this story, but as is often the case in ancient texts, the women who were a part of the tale get little mention. I wanted to change that with The Reluctant Hero.

This allowed me to delve further into Philonoe’s character (the daughter of King Iobates) as I wanted to bring her to the fore. To me, she languished in the background in the primary sources. The story is, I feel, much more interesting for it, and for the fact that she is not a damsel in distress, ‘saved’ by the hero who shows up. In this story, Philonoe is a hero in her own right.

4th Century Mosaic Fragment showing Philonoe and Bellerophon (photo: Barbara McManus)

In myth, Bellerophon and Philonoe had three children: Hippolochos, Isander, and Laodameia.

As mentioned above, in Homer, it is the son of Hippolochos, Glaucus, who tells the tale of Bellerophon in the Iliad. He led the Lykian army during the Trojan War. As for Isander and Laodameia, they were less fortunate in their lives, for Isander was supposedly killed while fighting the Solymi, slain by Ares, and Laodameia was the mother of Sarpedon by Zeus, later to be killed by Artemis for angering that goddess.

One thing is certain, the mythological family trees are never boring!

But what of Philonoe and Bellerophon?

The ancient texts make no mention of Philonoe’s end that I have seen, so I decided that she should meet an end worthy of her lineage, giving her children the chance to take over the kingdom.

As for Bellerophon, the ancient texts make no mention of his death either, but Homer does say the following:

But when even Bellerophon came to be hated of all the gods, then verily he wandered alone over the Aleian plain, devouring his own soul, and shunning the paths of men…

(Homer, Iliad, Book 6, 200)

It is true that most Greek myths, especially those of the heroes, often end in tragedy, but why was Bellerophon shunned by the Gods? In his lost tragic play, Bellerophon, Euripides spoke of Bellerophon’s attempt to fly up to Mount Olympus upon Pegasus, and Zeus’ subsequent anger at this. The king of the gods sent a fly to sting Pegasus, and Bellerophon, the slayer of the Chimera, tumbled back to earth. He survived the fall, but was crippled by it and wandered alone until the end of his days.

It was a sad end for a great and misunderstood hero, and I hope that I have done his story justice.

If you want to explore the myth of Bellerophon more deeply, you can check out Book IV in the Mythologia series, The Reluctant Hero: The Story of Bellerophon and the Chimera.

If you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.

Thank you for reading.

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Mythologia: A Song for the Underworld – Researching the Story of Orpheus and Eurydice

Greetings Readers and History-lovers!

Greek Mythology is vast, and the variety of the tales therein is something to be studied and enjoyed over a lifetime. No matter what a person’s age, there is always some enjoyment to be had, something to be learned.

The stories of Greek Mythology often deal with such things as consequence and revenge, the toils of the human race under the watchful eyes of the Gods, and of trying to find one’s place and purpose in the world we inhabit.

The myths also contain great stories of Love.

Orpheus Mourning the Death of Eurydice (by Ary Scheffer, 1814)

The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is, perhaps, one of the most romantic and tragic in the constellations of mythology that have come down to us. It is the ultimate, tragic love story, and as such it has inspired countless works of art, music, plays, operas, and literature throughout the ages.

With the Mythologia series, it is sometimes difficult to decide which myths to adapt. There are so many!

I was reminded of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice when I first listened to the song, Orpheus, by Sara Bareilles. The absolutely beautiful melody and Ms. Bareilles’ voice wove a spell, and upon hearing the phrase “Don’t you turn like Orpheus, Just stay here…”, I knew that I had to write this story.

Orpheus and Eurydice (by Carl Goos, 1830)

In a way, my own version of this story began with a song.

Once I began to research this myth more fully, I became more and more engrossed in the story, curious about its impact over the ages.

There are a few primary sources from the ancient world that relate the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. For this retelling, I’ve used parts from each, having decided not to limit myself to one particular version. For this story, I’ve used elements from Euripides’ play, Alcestis, which is one of the earliest recorded tellings of the myth, and from the more fulsome versions by the Roman writers Virgil (Georgics) and Ovid (Metamorphoses). There are references to Orpheus in many other ancient sources such as Pindar (the Pythian odes), Plato (Symposium), Apollonius of Rhodes (Argonautica), Diodorus Siculus, and Pausanias.

Apollo and the Muses on Mount Helicon (by Claude Lorrain, 1680)

Though the Mythologia series is fantasy, and requires a suspension of disbelief, I have still tried to include places or settings that are tied historically to Orpheus and Eurydice. The sacred spring of Hippocrene on Mount Helicon, where the Muses were said to gather, was supposedly made by Pegasus when he stomped his hoof into the rock there. The ancient author, Pausanias, tells us that there was a statue of Orpheus in that place. The ancient region of Pieria, around the base of Mount Olympus, which I have also included in the book, was said to be where the Muses lived, and perhaps where Orpheus was raised. Both Mount Helicon and Pieria were major cult centres of the Muses in ancient times.

When it comes to the entrance to the Underworld, the cape of Tainaron in the southern Peloponnese was believed by our ancient ancestors to be one of the gateways to Hades’ realm, a truly forbidding, rocky place with a sanctuary of Poseidon and, supposedly, an altar of Death.

The ‘Gate to Hades’ at Tainaron, southern Greece

In the story, Orpheus and Eurydice range all over the land of what we know as Greece, but Thrace in particular played a big part in the myth for it was there that Orpheus was supposed to have met Eurydice, but also where he met his end. There was a strong Orphic tradition for millennia in Thrace. In mythology and the history of ancient Greece, the landscape is as much a part of the story, and by exploring it we can truly get closer to the myths.

Traditionally, the Muse, Calliope, is Orpheus’ mother, but there are a couple of traditions around who his father was. Often it is King Oeagrus of Thrace, but then sometimes Orpheus’ father is Apollo himself. I decided to include hints at both in this story, but opted for the latter tradition since it seemed more fitting that Calliope and Apollo would be parents to the greatest musician. However, in mythology, King Oeagrus was indeed the father of the satyr, Marsyas, who did challenge Apollo. For his hubris, Apollo flayed the skin from Marsyas’ body, and there is a famous statue of the satyr in this sad state. For my version of this story, I liked the juxtaposition of having King Oeagrus as Marsyas’ father, and Apollo as Orpheus’.

Calliope, Muse of Epic Song, and mother of Orpheus

When it comes to the death of Orpheus, he was torn to pieces by the Thracian Maenads, but for varying reasons. Sometimes, it is because they each wanted him for themselves and fought over him. Other times, it is because of his loyalty to the memory of Eurydice, and his refusal of anyone else. One tradition has Dionysus turn against him because Orpheus preferred to honour Helios over him. I chose a slightly different route by making the cessation of his music the reason that the Maenads turned on him. Either way, what is agreed upon is that after they slew poor Orpheus, the pieces of his body were thrown into the river Hebros and floated down to the sea, his head still singing in death. The head landed on the shores of Lesbos where the people there treated Orpheus’ remains with honour. As a result, the Muses granted the Lesbians the special gift of music and art. This is fitting, considering that Sappho, one of the greatest poets of the ancient world, was from Lesbos.

Thracian Girl Carrying the Head of Orpheus on His Lyre by Gustave Moreau (1865)

Of course, one of the central features of the myth is Orpheus’ journey to the Underworld to get back his love, Eurydice. One of my favourite challenges as an author is to write about the Underworld. How does one portray such a realm as that? One cannot fit in every detail, and accounts in ancient texts vary. No one can truly know the mysteries of the Afterlife, so conjecture is acceptable. Another attempt of mine to portray the Underworld can be found in my book, Saturnalia. I hope this particular interpretation is a just offering.

The story of Orpheus was so profound and imbued with such meaning that from it sprang one of the great mystery religions of the ancient world: Orphism.

I won’t go into the details of Orphism here. We cannot know much because it was a mystery religion, similar to the Eleusinian Mysteries.

Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the Underworld (by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, 1861)

What we do know is that the Orphic Hymns were central to its practices and beliefs, as was Orpheus’ journey to the Underworld and back. It is thought by some to be a reform of ancient Dionysian religion, with a focus on the suffering and death of Dionysus who also went to the Underworld. Humanity’s dual nature was central to the philosophy of Orphism. It also had ideas in common with Pythagoreanism, notably an ascetic life free of contamination, including rules such as a strict vegetarian diet. It is believed that Pythagoras himself was an Orphic initiate.

Orphics, as the followers of this ancient religion are known, believed in an afterlife in which they would spend eternity alongside Orpheus and other heroes. Those who were not initiated into the mysteries were reincarnated.

As always, as an author and historian, I find this oneness of myth and religion infinitely fascinating, and will explore more of this relationship in subsequent stories in the Mythologia series.

For me, however, at its heart this is a story about love, pure and simple. It is the ultimate expression of that which makes life worth living, worth risking all for.

It’s almost impossible to fully convey such love with mere words. I don’t have the skills that Orpheus himself had. But I do hope that in reading this story, some part of your heart and soul will be moved.

If you want to explore this myth more deeply, you can check out Book III in the Mythologia series, A Song for the Underworld: The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Lastly, if you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.

Thank you for reading.

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Mythologia: From Zero to Hero – The Story of an Epic Race

Then he [Pelops] said unto him: ‘Lo now, O Poseidon, if the kind gifts of the Cyprian goddess are anywise pleasant in thine eyes, restrain Oinomaus’ bronze spear, and send me unto Elis upon a chariot exceeding swift, and give the victory to my hands. Thirteen lovers already hath Oinomaus slain, and still delayeth to give his daughter in marriage. Now a great peril does not take hold of a coward: and forasmuch as men must die, wherefore should one sit vainly in the dark through a dull and nameless age, and without lot in noble deeds? Not so, but I will dare this strife… 

(Pindar, Olympian Ode 1)

Greetings lovers of ancient history and mythology!

This week on the blog, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the most important heroes of Greek myth, but one who is often overlooked in popular culture today.

We are going to be looking at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia and the events that led to the naming of the Peloponnesian peninsula after this hero.

Pelops and Hippodameia racing

Though the myth of Pelops may not be well-known to the average person today, it was an important part of the mythological and religious canon in the world of ancient Greece and Rome. Several ancient writers wrote about it, including Homer, Pindar, Apollonius of Rhodes, Apollodoros, Diodorus Siculus, Pausanias and Pliny the Elder. Even Sophocles and Euripides wrote plays on the subject.

One of the foundation myths of the Olympic Games relates to Pelops and involves his famous chariot race against Oinomaus, the king of Elis.

On my first visit to ancient Olympia many years ago, I discovered Pelops’ story for the first time, having been amazed that it was so important that one of the statue groups on the pediment of the great temple of Zeus was dedicated to the myth.

Subsequently, I discovered that one of the hero shrines at ancient Olympia was dedicated to this eponymous hero.

East pediment of the temple of Zeus at Olympia showing Zeus between Oinomaus and Pelops, just before their race

But who was Pelops, and what did he do to deserve such adulation and remembrance?

These are the questions that I wanted to explore in Wheels of Fate, Book II in the Mythologia fantasy series.

SPOILER ALERT!

If you are planning on reading Wheels of Fate, you may wish to do so before going any further as this post discussed some of the key plot points in the myth that are explored in the book.

Here is a short synopsis of the myth…

The ancient kingdom of Elis, was ruled by Oinomaus who was the son of Ares and, apparently, quite brutal. He had a daughter by the name of Hippodameia, and every suitor who came for his daughter’s hand in marriage had to try and beat him in a chariot race across what became known as the Peloponnese, or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.

Eighteen suitors had raced Oinomaus and been killed by him before Pelops laid down his challenge.

According to the legend, Pelops, a young prince from Lydia, was the son of Tantalus, the arrogant king who was punished by the Gods for his grievous sin and sent to Tartarus. After being greatly abused by his father (that’s an understatement!) Pelops was was taken in by Poseidon himself who taught him about horses. Eventually, Poseidon gave him a team of swift-footed horses so that he could race against Oinomaus.

In order to ensure that Oinomaus did not win, Hippodameia also convinced her father’s man, Myrtilus, to sabotage the chariot so that Oinomaus would crash.

After Pelops’ victory, it was said that he began the Olympic Games in thanks to Zeus for his win. Another theory is that the Olympics were begun by Pelops as funeral games for the deceased Oinomaus who died in the race, or for Myrtilus, whom Pelops killed.

Whatever the ‘truth’ about these Olympic beginnings, one thing is certain – Chariot racing and horses had a deep connection to the Olympic Games.

This is a great simplification of the story. The book, Wheels of Fate, goes into much greater detail in exploring the myth. However, this particular foundation myth points to the Games as an event to commemorate Pelops’ victory.

Pelops and Hippodameia

As far as we know, the very first event of the Olympic Games was the stade race sprint, and boxing became a part of the Olympic roster in the fourteenth Olympiad.

So when did chariot racing become a part of the Games?

It is generally agreed that chariot racing first made an appearance in the ancient Olympics during the twenty-fifth Olympiad in the year 680 B.C.

In tandem with the Olympic Games, said to be established by Pelops in this instance, Hippodameia was said to have established the Games of Hera, the Heraia, in thanks to the goddess for granting the victory as well. You can read more about the Heraia HERE.

The chariot race was the marquee event at the Olympic Games, and central to the story of Wheels of Fate, as well as our historical fantasy epic Heart of Fire: A Novel of the Ancient Olympics.

Olympia map showing hippodrome at bottom right.

There was much testament to this particular foundation myth around the Altis of Olympia as well, the sacred precinct at the heart of the sanctuary. As mentioned, one of the pediments from the temple of Zeus shows Oinomaus and Pelops with their chariots, on either side of Zeus, getting ready to race.

Also, in the hippodrome, the chariot racing track of Olympia, a statue of Hippodameia overlooked the track, and one of the turns called the Taraxippos, was said to be haunted by the angry ghost of Oinomaus who would spook horses as they passed. Also, one of the posts in the turns was said to be made from a beam from Oinomaus’ burnt house.

In the middle of the Altis, there was also the Pelopion, the burial mound of Pelops which became a shrine to the hero who would become the father of Atreus, and grandfather of Agamemnon and Menelaus, those well-known kings of Mycenae and Sparta who sailed to war at Troy.

Pelopion (digital model created by University of Melbourne)

There is no denying the importance of Pelops among the ranks of ancient Greek heroes, and so it was a joy to explore his life in Wheels of Fate, to explore the dark corners of his life beyond what the sources tell us.

He was a grandson of immortals, the son of a king, and the father and grandfather of some of the most powerful kings of the Greek heroic age.

And his name lives on in the land itself, the ‘Peloponnese’ or, the ‘Isle of Pelops’.

If you want to explore this myth more deeply, you can check out our epic retelling of this myth in Book II of the Mythologia series, Wheels of Fate: The Story of Pelops and Hippodameia.

If you are interested in learning more about the ancient Olympic Games, you can check out The World of Heart of Fire blog series in which we look at all of the foundation myths of the ancient Olympics (yes, there are more than one!), the original athletic events, the archeology of ancient Olympia and more. You can also join me on a video tour of the archaeological site! You can read that series of blog posts for free by CLICKING HERE.

Lastly, if you haven’t checked out any of the titles in the Mythologia series, you can get the first three in the Mythologia: First Omnibus Edition HERE or directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing.

Thank you for reading.

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Mythologia: Exploring the World of Gods, Goddesses and Heroes

Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!

After a long Summer break, we’re finally back on the blog to bring you more entertaining information, topics of conversation and, of course, more books!

I hope that this post finds you all happy and safe, despite the ongoing crises plaguing our world.

During the past several months, I’ve been busy delving into worlds of gods, goddesses and heroes. What better way to get a respite from the modern world and its troubles than to explore Greek and Roman mythology?

And what an escape it has been! 

I’ve always enjoyed mythology, and as I’ve grown older and begun to write my own stories, I’ve realized that it would be wonderful to retell many of these fabulous myths in a way that would allow us to get to know these gods, goddesses, and heroes on a more personal level. 

The goal with the Mythologia series from Eagles and Dragons Publishing is to re-create a mythical world in which the reader can suspend all disbelief and experience these epic tales in a new and exciting way, right alongside the immortals and demigods whom we have read and heard about for ages. 

This series is also a lot of fun for me to write, because anything goes. I don’t need to be constrained by historical timelines or detail as much as with other series, though I always make an effort to set the stories in their known, geographical locations. You can’t keep a good historian down! I get ideas from the seeds and scattered mentions by ancient authors in various texts, and then let my imagination run wild.

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

Why mythology, and why now?

That’s a tricky question. I suppose that in the last year, during this modern plague, I’ve found comfort in mythology, a resonance in the stories that has helped me to get through in some way.

This series was always intended to be an escape, an exercise in the suspension of disbelief. This past year seemed like the perfect time for that.

However, it is also worth mentioning that even though myth is comprised mostly of stories of gods, goddesses, and heroes, those stories deal with very human feelings and trials which we all face in one form or another. They are stories of love and loss, of hope and of deep fear. They are stories of jealousy, of curiosity, of wanting to belong and of wanting to be better than ourselves.

The Gods know we’ve all faced our share of challenges in the last year and a half or so. That is part of the reason for which I have gone back to the Mythologia series. It has comforted and inspired me.

I also just love mythology as a religious and storytelling tradition that has spanned ancient Greek and Roman culture. It’s the very foundation of epic storytelling in the West.

The Mythologia series can be read in any order, but the first book, Chariot of the Son, deals with the Phaethon myth.

The Fall of Phaethon (Sebastiano Ricci 1659-1734)

He [Zeus] recalled the Fate [Moira] foretold a time when sea and land and heaven’s high palaces in sweeping flames should burn, and down should fall the beleaguered bastions of the universe.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses 1. 252)

Why the Phaethon myth?

I forget what I was researching at the time, but I came across a description of one version of the tale and remember being really saddened by it. I felt strongly that this was a story that I could tell, a story that would be extremely moving for readers of all ages. 

There are a few versions of the Phaethon myth, including Hesiod’s Theogeny of the 8th or 7th century B.C., and versions by Apollodorus and Pausanias in the second century A.D. In these, Phaethon is often the son of Eos and Kephalos.

The version that touched me the most is by the Roman poet Ovid (43 BC – AD 17/18) from Book II of his work, Metamorphoses. This work is a continuous narrative of myths in fifteen books which has shaped much of our view of mythology to this day.

You can download a free version of Ovid’s Metamorphoses on the Project Gutenberg website HERE.

With Chariot of the Son, I wanted get to know the people who, unbeknownst to Phaethon, make up the family – Clymene and Helios, his parents, an Oceanid and a Titan; his sisters, the Heliades; the Titan Prometheus, and others.

Also, knowing that the story has a tragic end, I wanted to get inside this young god’s heart and mind to try and experience the reasons why he wanted so much to drive the Sun’s chariot across the heavens. 

As I thought about his burning chariot and the scorching of the world that created the Sahara desert, it occurred to me that this story has some very human themes such as wanting to belong, the need for love and approval, and the urge to prove oneself.

It is also a myth that is not often explored, and so I set out to tell it as I saw it. I hope I have done this tragic tale justice.

We are, after all, reminded of Helios and Phaethon when we look up at the sun in the daytime sky, or see a picture of the burning expanse of the Sahara desert.

The Sahara Desert – Created by the burning of the world when Phaethon drove his father’s chariot

Perhaps what I love most about the myths is that they enable us to feel and see our world and history with wonder, and that is a precious thing.

I love this book and writing it was, quite literally, a dream-like experience.

Stepping into such an ancient world where these mythic characters experience things on a very human scale has been a wonderful experience that I hope you will enjoy.

Though the books in the Mythologia series are labelled in a specific order, they can all be read individually as stand-alone stories.

Chariot of the Son is, of course, the first book in the Mythologia series, and it is available for 0.99.

Just go to the book’s page on the website HERE. You can also go to the Buy Direct page on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website to get your copy.

Stay tuned for the next post on Greek mythology in which we will take a brief look at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Blood Road – Part IX – Imperial Hubris: The Rise and Fall of Caracalla and Macrinus

Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!

Welcome you our ninth and final post in The World of The Blood Road! 

If you did not see Part VIII on Roman Antioch, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part IX we’re going to be taking a look at two of the main historical personages in The Blood Road, Emperor Caracalla and Macrinus, and the unfortunate incidents around their rise and fall.

I hope you enjoy…

Emperor Caracalla

Each Eagles and Dragons novel has revolved around a particular historical event and or people. In the case of The Blood Road, Caracalla’s short, troubled reign provides the historical backdrop for this story, along with the swift rise and fall of Marcus Opellius Macrinus, newly-made Prefect of the Praetorian Guard.

As we know, Caracalla’s solo reign started in bloody and horrific fashion with the murder of his brother Geta in their mother’s arms. If you can’t recall that event, check out Part I in this blog series.

So what was Caracalla’s reign like once he was sole emperor and his brother’s memory and followers were erased from the face of the Earth?

Veering from murder to sport, he showed the same thirst for blood in this field, too. It was nothing, of course, that an elephant, rhinoceros, tiger, and hippotigris were slain in the arena, but he took pleasure in seeing the blood of as many gladiators as possible…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXVIII)

After the murder of Geta and twenty-thousand of his followers, according to the sources, life in Rome apparently became too unbearable for Caracalla who then, according to Herodian, made for the Danube frontier on the northern edge of the Empire.

In Germania, he waged a war against a confederation of the Alamanni, and it seems he felt at home among the troops.

War was what would pre-occupy Caracalla during his reign with much of the duties of correspondence being assigned to his mother, Julia Domna, and Ulpianus.

As we know, the one great legislative deed that Caracalla undertook was the creation of the Constitutio Antoniniana in late A.D. 212 which we discussed in Part III of this blog series. The rest of the time, however, violence seemed to be the order of the day.

The Roman Empire in A.D. 210, which Caracalla inherited after the death of Severus. Depicted is Roman territory (purple) and Roman dependencies (light purple). (Wikimedia Commons)

From A.D. 213-214, Caracalla campaigned in Germania, content to play the soldier among the men of the legions whom he had greatly enriched. After that campaign, however, he seems to have taken a strange turn and taken on the mantle of Alexander the Great himself. He even made his own pilgrimage to Troy, just as Alexander had.

Caracalla, after attending to matters in the garrison camps along the Danube River, went down into Thrace at the Macedonian border, and immediately he became Alexander the Great. To revive the memory of the Macedonian in every possible way, he ordered statues and paintings of his hero to be put on public display in all cities. He filled the Capitol, the rest of the temples, indeed, all Rome, with statues and paintings designed to suggest that he was a second Alexander.

At times we saw ridiculous portraits, statues with one body which had on each side of a single head the faces of Alexander and the emperor. Caracalla himself went about in Macedonian dress, affecting especially the broad sun hat and short boots. He enrolled picked youths in a unit which he labeled his Macedonian phalanx; its officers bore the names of Alexander’s generals…

…He visited all the ruins of that city [Troy], coming last to the tomb of Achilles; he adorned this tomb lavishly with garlands of flowers, and immediately he became Achilles. Casting about for a Patroclus, he found one ready to hand in Festus, his favourite freedman, keeper of the emperor’s daily record book. This Festus died at Troy; some say he was poisoned so that he could be buried as Patroclus, but others say he died of disease.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.8)

Gold medallion depicting Caracalla as Alexander the Great

Caracalla was obsessed with Alexander the Great, and he would later even make plans to introduce the phalanx into the legions. The troops loved him, but how long would that last?

And things worsened in A.D. 215 when Caracalla and his men moved on to Alexandria, the city founded by his hero, where he told the people that he wished to honour Alexander. He was well-received by the Alexandrians, who were not known for holding back their displeasure.

But Caracalla, it seems, had other plans than offering hecatombs of oxen and mountains of frankincense to Alexander. You see, apparently, Caracalla had been widely mocked in Alexandria for the murder of his brother, Geta. Caracalla remembered this, and after he had lulled the Alexandrians into a sense of ease and celebration, he apparently requested that all military aged men be assembled to form phalanxes in honour of Alexander the Great. This is what happened next:

He ordered the youths to form in rows so that he might approach each one and determine whether his age, size of body, and state of health qualified him for military service. Believing him to be sincere, all the youths, quite reasonably hopeful because of the honour he had previously paid the city, assembled with their parents and brothers, who had come to celebrate the youths’ expectations.

Caracalla now approached them as they were drawn up in groups and passed among them, touching each youth and saying a word of praise to this one and that one until his entire army had surrounded them. The youths did not notice or suspect anything. After he had visited them all, he judged that they were now trapped in the net of steel formed by his soldiers’ weapons, and left the field, accompanied by his personal bodyguard. At a given signal the soldiers fell upon the encircled youths, attacking them and any others present. They cut them down, these armed soldiers fighting against unarmed, surrounded boys, butchering them in every conceivable fashion. 

Some did the killing while others outside the ring dug huge trenches; they dragged those who had fallen to these trenches and threw them in, filling the ditch with bodies. Piling on earth, they quickly raised a huge burial mound. Many were thrown in half-alive, and others were forced in unwounded.

A number of soldiers perished there too; for all who were thrust into the trench alive, if they had the strength, clung to their killers and pulled them in with them. So great was the slaughter that the wide mouths of the Nile and the entire shore around the city were stained red by the streams of blood flowing through the plain. After these monstrous deeds, Caracalla left Alexandria and returned to Antioch.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.8)

Caracalla as Pharaoh, Temple of Kom Ombo (Wikimedia Commons)

Oftentimes, the sources greatly exaggerate the behaviours of emperors that are perceived to be mad or exceedingly cruel. Is this the case with Caracalla? While it is obvious that neither Cassius Dio or Herodian were fans of the emperor, they do agree on much of what supposedly happened. Considering the murder of his brother, and the undoubted pressure Caracalla felt in perhaps living up to the greatness of his father before him, this was a man who was spiralling out of control and lashing out at the world about him. No matter how many enemies one executed, there were always more waiting in the wings of history.

And Caracalla made more enemies, and sought more war after the massacre at Alexandria when he turned his sights on Parthia.

Once more, hurt feelings and humiliation would sound the drums of war as he sought to go head-to-head with the empire his father had defeated twenty years before. And it all started with a rejected marriage proposal…

After this Antoninus [Caracalla] made a campaign against the Parthians, on the pretext that Artabanus had refused to give him his daughter in marriage when he sued for her hand; for the Parthian king had realized clearly enough that the emperor, while pretending to want to marry her, was in reality eager to get the Parthian kingdom incidentally for himself. So Antoninus now ravaged a large section of the country around Media by making a sudden incursion, sacked many fortresses, won over Arbela, dug open the royal tombs of the Parthians, and scattered the bones about. This was the easier for him to accomplish inasmuch as the Parthians did not even join battle with him; and accordingly I have found nothing of especial interest to record concerning the incidents of that campaign

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIX)

To this point in time, Caracalla’s decisions were anything from rash to ridiculous, and people, including the men of the legions, began to notice. He even began to neglect his Praetorians and legionaries when he appointed a group of freed Scythians and Germans as his new personal guard which he named ‘The Lions’.

He had pushed aside his best advisors, namely Julia Domna and Ulpianus, long ago. So who was with Caracalla throughout all of this?

Marcus Opellius Macrinus, that’s who. But who was this man whom Caracalla made Praetorian Prefect and who would play a crucial role in Caracalla’s downfall?

The Praetorian Guard

Marcus Opellius Macrinus was born in A.D. 164 in Caesarea, Mauretania Caesariensis. He was from a poor equestrian family, and these humble beginnings fired his ambitions.

Before reaching the heights of power that he achieved, Macrinus was a successful gladiator, a venator (hunter), and a postal courier. He then went to Rome where he became a legal advisor to the infamous Praetorian Prefect under Severus, Gaius Fulvius Plautianus. After the fall of Plautianus, in A.D. 205, under Severus, Macrinus became director of the via Flaminia in Italy, as well as an administrator of Severus’ properties.

He seems to have bided his time until, in A.D. 212, Caracalla made Macrinus Praetorian Prefect. Then, early in A.D. 217, he received ornamenta consularia, ‘consular status’, from the emperor.

Marcus Opellius Macrinus

As we know, history tends to repeat itself, and there was one thing Caracalla did indeed share with his more successful father: they both trusted the wrong men.

During his reign, Severus had trusted Gaius Fulvius Plautianus, his own kinsman, in the role of Praetorian Prefect. Plautianus had worked against Severus and plotted to overthrow him. We explore this in the book Killing the Hydra.

It seems that Macrinus had learned a thing or two in his time with Plautianus, and as a result, yet again, a Praetorian prefect began to plot against the emperor he served.

With the troops becoming increasingly disillusioned with Caracalla’s behaviour, including his favour shown toward the barbarian ‘Lions’, the time was ripe for a mutiny, and Macrinus seems to have known this.

Caracalla often ridiculed Macrinus publicly, calling him a brave, self-styled warrior, and carrying his sarcasm to the point of shameful abuse. 

When the emperor learned that Macrinus was overfond of food and scorned the coarse, rough fare which Caracalla and the soldiers enjoyed, he accused the general of cowardice and effeminacy, and continually threatened to murder him. Unable to endure these insults any longer, the angry Macrinus grew dangerous.

This is the way the affair turned out; it was, at long last, time for Caracalla’s life to come to an end. The emperor, always excessively curious, wished not only to know everything about the affairs of men but also to meddle in divine matters. Since he suspected everyone of plotting against him, he consulted all the oracles and summoned prophets, astrologers, and entrail-examiners from all over the world; no one who practiced the magic art of prophecy escaped him.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.12)

One of Caracalla’s men in Rome tried to warn the emperor of what the astrologers and others had deciphered about Macrinus, as did Julia Domna, but the letters did not reach Caracalla in time.

In the Spring of A.D. 217, it seems the Fates had their blade against the thread of Caracalla’s life. Macrinus had a plan.

Map of region where Caracalla was on campaign in the final weeks of his reign.

On his way from Edessa to engage the Parthians again, Caracalla decided that he wished to stop at Carrhae, where so many Romans had met their end, to make offerings at the temple of Luna. He would not leave Carrhae…

Macrinus…hastened his preparations, having a presentiment that otherwise he should perish, especially as Antoninus had suddenly, on the day before his birthday, removed those of Macrinus’ companions that were with him, alleging various reasons in different cases, but with the general pretext of showing them honour… Accordingly, he [Macrinus] secured the services of two tribunes assigned to the pretorian guard, Nemesianus and Apollinaris, brothers belonging to the Aurelian gens, and of Julius Martialis, who was enrolled among the evocati and had a private grudge against Antoninus [Caracalla] for not having given him the post of centurion when he asked for it, and so formed his plot against Antoninus. It was carried out thus.

On the eighth of April, when the emperor had set out from Edessa for Carrhae and had dismounted from his horse to ease himself, Martialis approached as though desiring to say something to him and struck him with a small dagger. Martialis immediately fled and would have escaped detection, had he thrown away his sword; but, as it was, the weapon led to his being recognized by one of the Scythians in attendance upon Antoninus, and he was struck down with a javelin. As for Antoninus, the tribunes, pretending to come to his rescue, slew him…

…Such was the end to which Antoninus came, after living twenty-nine years and four days (for he had been born on the fourth of April), and after ruling six years, two months, and two days. At this point also in my narrative many things come to mind to arouse my astonishment. For instance, when he was about to set out from Antioch on his last journey, his father appeared to him in a dream, wearing a sword and saying, “As you killed your brother, so will I slay you”…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIX)

It was an ignominious end for the son of Severus.

It is this event involving Macrinus, the Praetorian tribunes, Nemesianus and Apollinaris, one Julius Martialis and another with a grievance against Caracalla, that makes up the climax of The Blood Road.

The troops declared Macrinus emperor, and in the aftermath, it is thought that Julia Domna, who was in Antioch at the time, committed suicide rather than be taken by Macrinus. And who can blame this wonderful, intelligent empress? After the key role she had played in the Empire for so long, the death of her husband, and the brutal murder of her youngest son, she must have lost the will to live any longer. The humiliating death of Caracalla was likely, for her, as the dying of the Sun she worshipped.

Once Macrinus was emperor, he struck a deal with the Parthians and made his son, Diadumenian, ‘Prince of the Youth’. He also gave him the rank of ‘Caesar’.

As emperor, Macrinus ruled for just a short year, from April A.D. 217 to June 218. He waged unsuccessful wars and undertook some fiscal reforms that the military, the very men who put him on the throne, did not appreciate.

Gold ‘aureus’ of Julia Maesa

It seems that he also did not account fully for the ambition of Julia Domna’s sister, Julia Maesa, who had bided her time for years, ever a fixture of the imperial court, supportive of her sister and slain nephew.

Julia Maesa, took advantage of the unrest around Emperor Macrinus to instigate a rebellion and have her fourteen-year-old grandson, Elagabalus, declared emperor after the Battle of Antioch on June 8, A.D. 218.

Macrinus was captured and slain in Cappadocia, as he fled for Rome, and his son, whom he had sent to the Parthians for protection, was captured and executed.

The Senate of Rome then declared him and his son enemies of Rome and had their names struck from the records.

So ended the reign of the first, non-senatorial emperor in Rome’s history.

Image of a Roman eagle standard, or ‘aquila’ (Wikimedia Commons)

I hope that you’ve enjoyed this blog series about The World of the Blood Road as much as I’ve enjoyed researching and writing it. There is a lot more history in the book itself, but this will give you a taste of the world in which this adventure takes place.

If you have missed any posts in this blog series, you can read all of them in one place by CLICKING HERE.

While it is true that there are very few primary sources for this period, the ones that we do have – Cassius Dio and Herodian – have shown us once again that sometimes the truth is even more shocking than one could have imagined.

This is a fascinating period in Roman history, and one which I have been very happy to share with you.

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 VIII – Antioch: Rome of the East

Welcome back, Readers and History-Lovers!

I hope you’ve been enjoying this blog series about The World of The Blood Road. It has been a joy to share my research with you over the last little while.

In Part VII, we journeyed to see the Pythia at Delphi and experienced the beauty of the sanctuary there. If you missed that post, you can read it by CLICKING HERE.

Today, in Part VIII, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the richest cities in the Roman Empire: Antioch.

So, step aboard our corbita and let’s set sail for this magnificent city of the eastern Empire!

Map showing the Eastern Roman Empire and Parthian Empire. Note Antioch in the top left where the Silk Road meets the Mediterranean.

In the novel, The Blood Road, there are several locations across the Roman Empire that we visit. Antioch, however, is not an entirely new location in this series.

In A Dragon among the Eagles (Book 0), the legions of Septimius Severus assembled outside Antioch for the invasion of Parthia, and our protagonist, Lucius Metellus Anguis, was among them.

Well, we’ve come full circle now, and find ourselves back in Antioch, only this time it is not to await the order to march from inside a legionary tent on the plain outside the city. This time, we’re going into the city streets to explore what was known as the ‘Rome of the East’.

Antioch in the Roman Empire (Wikimedia Commons)

Antioch was the gateway to Mesopotamia which is said to be the cradle of civilization. It is a land of alternating fertility and desert where the first cities were built, and empires made. It also was, and is, a land of war, a land of terrible beauty.

For millennia, successive civilizations have fought over this rich land, a land from which Alexander the Great had decided to rule his massive empire.

In A Dragon among the Eagles, Lucius Metellus Anguis’ legion arrives at the port of Antioch where Emperor Severus has assembled over thirty legions on the plains east of the city.

Antioch, which was then located in Syria, now lies in modern Turkey, near the city of Antyaka. It was founded in the fourth century B.C. by one of Alexander’s successor-generals, Seleucus I Nicator, the founder of the Seleucid Empire. Seleucus named this city after his son, Antiochus, a name that would be taken by later kings of that dynasty.

Ancient Roman road in Syria which connected Antioch and Chalcis to the North. (Wikimedia Commons)

Antioch was called the ‘Rome of the East’, and for good reason. It was rich, mostly due to its location along the Silk Road. Indeed, Antioch was a sort of gateway between the Mediterranean and the East, with many goods, especially spices, travelling through it. It is located on the Orontes river, and overlooked by Mt. Silpius.

This Ancient Greek city was greatly enhanced by the Romans who saw much value in it. Actually, most of the development in Antioch took place during the period of Roman occupation. Enhancements included aqueducts, numerous baths, stoas, palaces and gardens for visiting emperors, and perhaps most impressive of all, a hippodrome for chariot racing that was 490 meters long and based on the Circus Maximus in Rome.

Antioch, during the late second century A.D., rivalled both Rome and Alexandria. It was a place of luxury and civility that was in stark contrast to the world of war where, in The Blood Road, the legions are headed once more.

Reconstruction of Roman Antioch (art by Papertowns)

This time in Antioch, however, we are not so concerned with war. We’re not on the front lines so to speak, though at the time this novel takes place, Caracalla is mounting another Parthian campaign.

In The Blood Road, we get a more intimate look at Antioch and its city streets. However, we’re not delving into the palaces, the great circus, or the amphitheatre. This time around we will be among the people in the agora, and also in the quarter known as the Kerateion. 

Around the time this novel takes place (A.D. 211-217) the population of Antioch was below 400,000 people. That’s a big city, and like most cities, there were certain quarters that were better than others, areas where certain population groups were relegated.

Site of Antioch on the Orontes River c.1934

Antioch was of utmost importance to trade, as it was the Mediterranean gateway to the Silk Road that crossed the former Persian Empire to the East. The agora would have been a thriving place were many people gathered to buy and sell. The main agora of Antioch was located along the western wall, just above the Orontes river.

On the map, Antioch doesn’t actually appear that big, but, as stated above, it had everything that was needed in a ‘Rome of the East’.

Antioch did well under Roman rule. It was enriched, and it flourished.

But was it the same for all peoples living there? Likely not.

In the southeast corner of the city, pressed between the Daphne Gate and the main colonnaded thoroughfare of the city, the amphitheatre and the eastern wall along the slopes of Mount Silpius, there was a neighbourhood known as the ‘Kerateion’.

This was the Judea-Christian quarter of Antioch, and it is here that our time is mostly spent in The Blood Road.

Map of Ancient Antioch (Google Arts and Culture). Note the Judeo-Christian quarter of the Kerateion in red.

During the early days of Christianity, some of the earliest missionaries came to Antioch to preach to Jews and Gentiles alike, and over time, during the Roman Empire, the city became the centre of early Christianity.

While many emperors were brutal toward Christians, under Severus and Caracalla that portion of the population fared better than at other times. They were even made Roman citizens by Caracalla’s Constitutio Antoniniana.

It is believed that one of the earliest Christian missionaries here was none other than the apostle Peter. One can even see the ruins of St. Peter’s Cave Church (built in the Middle Ages) where he is said to have preached to some of the people of Antioch. To this day, it is said the Christian Patriarch of Antioch claims primacy in the church because of this association with Peter.

Another strong Christian association with Antioch is that the Gospel of Matthew is believed to have been written there.

Facade of the Church of St Peter, originally built ca. 1100 by Crusaders and rebuilt in the 19th century (Wikimedia Commons)

In the Eagles and Dragons series, we have not delved very deeply into Christianity and its beliefs. The main characters are mostly Pagan. However, from Book III, Warriors of Epona, we are introduced to early Christians in Britannia, mainly the character of Father Gilmore.

Now, with The Blood Road, we explore Christianity just a little more, and what better place to do that than at one of the centres of early Christianity where the Christian ideal of forgiveness of one’s enemies is in direct contrast to the theme of vengeance in our story.

Stay tuned for our final part in The World of The Blood Road when we will be looking briefly at the reign of Caracalla and the rise and fall of Macrinus.

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 VII – Delphi: Visiting the Sanctuary of a God

Greetings History-Lovers!

Welcome back to The World of The Blood Road, the blog series in which we’re looking at the research into the history, people, and places behind-the-scenes of the newest Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy novel. 

If you missed the previous post on Roman Etruria, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part VII we’re going to be visiting one of the most sacred sanctuaries of the ancient world. We’re going to Delphi.

Are you ready to visit the oracle?

Let’s begin…

Speculative illustration of ancient Delphi by French architect Albert Tournaire.

Just as Delphi is perhaps one of the most well-known historical sites of Greece today, it was also one of the most famous and important places in the ancient world, sacred to both Greeks and Romans.

In this post, however, we’re not going to be discussing the history of Delphi. If you would like to read about that and my own experience walking through the sanctuary, you should definitely read this previous post by CLICKING HERE.

In this seventh part of The World of The Blood Road, we’re going to walk alongside ancient pilgrims, or theopropoi, on their way to consult the Pythia, the famous oracle of Apollo at Delphi.

…the high road to Delphi becomes both steeper and more difficult for the walker. Many and different are the stories told about Delphi, and even more so about the oracle of Apollo. For they say that in the earliest times the oracular seat belonged to Earth….

…I have heard too that shepherds feeding their flocks came upon the oracle, were inspired by the vapour, and prophesied as the mouthpiece of Apollo.

(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 10.5.5) 

The peaceful sanctuary of Athena Pronaia

People would come from all over the Greek and Roman world to consult the oracle at Delphi who spoke the words of Apollo himself, the god of art, music, healing and prophecy, common to both Greeks and Romans. More often than not, they would come from very far away to do this, but when they arrived at Delphi, they could not just step into line and wait to see the oracle in the temple. There was a process.

First of all, you had to get there, and whether you came over land from the direction of Thebes, or from the ancient port of Kirrha on the gulf of Corinth, you had to climb your way up to the god’s eyrie. 

Timing was important, for the oracle was not there all day, everyday. The priests of the temple could give simple answers to simple questions by individuals regularly, but for cities seeking wisdom, or individuals with weighty questions, the Pythia herself would give her oracles once every month on the seventh day, except for the three months of winter when Apollo was said to be in the land of the Hyperboreans. During Winter, Dionysos was said to watch over Delphi.

Whenever you arrived in Delphi, you would probably have stopped at the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia to thank the gods for bringing you there safely.

The Tholos in the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia (reconstruction by K. Iliakis)

This sanctuary was the sort of gateway or ‘entrance’ to the sanctuary of Apollo. It was located down the mountain from the main sanctuary, along the road from Thebes. Here, there were temples to Athena, Hygeia, Zeus and others. There were altars and a hero shrine too, all within the walled enclosure. If you were Roman, you might have recognized the statue of Hadrian looking over the sanctuary, for he loved Greece and visited Delphi twice during his reign.

This is a peaceful place, filled with whispering olive trees, birdsong, and light. In this sanctuary, the traveller could take a breath and prepare him or herself for the next stage.

Within the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia, there was the larger, ‘old’ temple of Athena (built c. 510 B.C.), and the smaller ‘new’ temple of Athena (built c. 380 B.C.) where pilgrims would have made their offerings.

Today, however, the main structure that draws the eye is the tholos, the round temple that stood between the two main temples of Athena. It is not known exactly what rituals took place inside this striking temple, one theory being that its shape echoed the round huts or structures of a more ancient time. The tiled roof was accented by lion heads about the perimeter an the metopes, some of which remain, depicted the Gigantomachy (battle of the Giants) and the Amazonomachy (battle of the Amazons).

Beside the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia, there also lay the long tiled roof of the Roman gymnasium, one of the more recent additions to Delphi, where Athletes participating in the Pythian Games, or travellers seeking to stay fit, might be training.

Most people, however, would have been eager to make their offerings to Apollo in the main sanctuary up the mountainside, and have their questions answered by the Pythia. However, it was not just a matter of walking in and doing so.

One had to be purified.

The Phaedriades, or ‘Shining Ones’ (Wikimedia Commons)

In the shadow of the twin peaks known as the Phaedriades, or the ’Shining Ones’, there lay the sacred spring of Castalia. The water that fed this spring came out from the Phaedriades and was used in the important purification rituals of Delphi. Even the Pythia purified herself with this water.

If one did not go through the purification, one could not enter the sanctuary which was about five hundred meters away. The line would have been long, especially if one arrived for the seventh day of the month.

Within a shaded court, there was a pool fed by lion-headed spouts. Stairs led down into the water where pilgrims washed their hands, face and hair with the sacred water. If one was guilty of homicide, however, the entire body needed to be washed in the Castilian spring.

The Castalian Fountain House where pilgrims purified themselves before entering the sanctuary. (Reconstruction by K. Iliakis)

Once a pilgrim had purified himself or herself, it was time to purchase offerings if you had not already brought some. Conveniently, there was an agora that the Romans had built, just before the entrance to the sanctuary of Apollo. Here there would have been small animals, votive sculptures, food and more available for purchase.

You might not have been able to see into the sanctuary yet, though you knew it was there, for as soon as one approached Delphi, there was a niggling feeling of awe and wonder that accompanied such proximity to this most holy place of Apollo’s, the place where he slew the great Python and where, ever since, heroes, kings and countries had come for his wisdom.

Once you stepped through the main gate into the sanctuary, the flow of people would have led you on.

Site map of Delphi showing the Sacred Way running up through the sanctuary of Apollo to the temple itself. Reconstruction by Dimitris Kyriakos and Dimitris Nassides based on research by the French Archaeological School)

As one walked along the Sacred Way of Delphi, one would have been struck by the amount of artworks, monuments and votive offerings along the way. It would have been like walking through a filled museum for the modern traveller, which is fitting as Apollo was the leader of the Muses.

The first thing one would have seen are various statues groups that included the Bronze Bull of the Corkyrans, thirty-seven statues of the Spartan admirals, and votive statues of the Arcadians. These lined the road on both sides, and were followed by statues created by the famed sculptor, Phidias, to commemorate the Athenian victory over the Persians at Marathon.

One could have taken shelter in the shade next at the small stoa that was there alongside the votive statues of the Argive kings which were across from the wooden horse of Troy, and the statue group of the famous Seven against Thebes.

Perhaps some travellers would have stopped to look at all of the works of art, to feel the connection to an ancient past. If one was Roman, perhaps one might have felt a bit more out of place, like an intruder, or invader, there to seek the wisdom of the god you shared with the Greeks walking beside you?

The Athenian Treasury along the Sacred Way. (Reconstructions by K. Iliakis)

The road then widened, and perhaps the crowd walking up the mountain to the main temple spread out. Next, where the road began to switch back on its way up, one came to the various treasuries where cities from across the Greek world kept riches, offerings and trophies. The treasuries of the Thebans, Beotians and Poteideans were there, squat stone structures with tiled rooftops, their doors either open to their respective citizens, or barred to outsiders.

Between the latter two treasuries was a reminder of where one was in that moment, for there was the enormous, carved omphalos stone, the ‘navel’ that told one Delphi was the centre of the world.

Then came the grand treasury of Athens with its beautiful facade and metopes depicting the deeds of Theseus and Herakles. There were banners, enemy armour and more adorning the outer steps, and riches filling the interior, there since it was dedicated to the victory at Marathon. Perhaps some were weather-worn, or perhaps Rome had already taken some, but it was nonetheless impressive, right down to the text inscribed upon the outer walls.

Continuing along the Sacred Way, one passed the bouleuterion, the Delphic council house, and the treasuries of the Syracusans and Megarians as well as other monuments and altars.

The Sybil’s Rock

If one was nervous about approaching the god with one’s question, one might have had to pause at what was seen next. In the shadow of the long temple of Apollo, which now stood above you on the next terrace, one now stood before two rocks: the rock of Leto, where Apollo slew the great Python, and the rock of the Sibyl, where the first oracle spoke Apollo’s words to the world.

What must it have been like for an ancient pilgrim to stand there, further unnerved by the gaze of the Naxian Sphinx on its ten meter column, looking down on you! Did the sound of the crowds fall away as you contemplated your purpose in being there? Could you hear the roar of the Python as Apollo loosed his arrows?

The experience was, no doubt, different for everyone.

The Naxian Sphinx in the museum at Delphi.

Past the treasury of the Corinthians and the Delphic prytaneion, the magistrates’ hall, one then mounted the Tarentine stairs beneath the great golden tripod with its thick serpent columns, a battle-offering for the Greek victory over the Persians at Plataea. To your right you would have seen another area with various large columns and votive statues of the kings Attalos and Eumenes, the stoa of Attalos which had two levels, and where people gathered to rest or talk in the shade.

This area was also dominated by the golden chariot of Helios, offered to Apollo by the Rhodians.

But your eyes would now have been drawn inexorably to your left where the colossal statue of Apollo with his lyre, and of the goddess Athena atop a soaring bronze palm stood before the temple of Apollo itself.

If it was the seventh day of the month, then perhaps it was difficult to move in the crowd of pilgrims awaiting their turn make their offerings upon the great altar of the Chians which faced the temple entrance.

The Altar of the Chians before the Temple of Apollo (Wikimedia Commons)

Would you have been frustrated to see those with promanteia – the right to see the oracle first – skip the line? These included the Delphians themselves, as well as people from Chios and some other places. If you were there, in Delphi, no doubt your questions were pressing, but there was plenty to see and do while you waited for your turn.

Looking out over the mountainside, down toward the South, the sun would have warmed your face as you gazed down on the valley of sacred, silver-leafed olive groves to the sea beyond. The sound of cicadas and birdsong might have been matched only by the hum of the gathered pilgrims.

If you still had to wait your turn to enter the temple, you could have walked up to the next terrace, above the temple, passed various columns and monuments, including the shrine to Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles. Then, to more shrines and monuments until you paused before the great bronze charioteer, and the bronze statue group of the lion hunt of Alexander the Great, dedicated by his general Crateros.

The Charioteer of Delphi

Up the hill there was another enclosure that included the rock of Kronos and the meeting hall of the Cnidians, but you had no need to go there, for you were drawn by the sound of music coming from the great theatre of Delphi which rose up the mountainside to your right. Perhaps musicians were practicing for the coming Pythian Games, or perhaps a lone poet was practising his recitation before an empty theatre, a solo offering to the ears of Apollo himself?

The Stadium farther up the mountain from the sanctuary was the site of the Pythian Games and seated up to 7000 spectators

Along the path from the top of the theatre, on into the pine-scented air of Parnassus, the stadium stretches away. Athletes are training there, running, throwing the discuss, testing their strength and skill against each other. Or perhaps they are sitting in the sun gazing up at the trees and rocky slopes above?

You think about going to watch, but then your name is called. It is your turn to see the oracle.

The Temple of Apollo

The temple of Apollo is the focus of the entire sanctuary. It is the home of the god. As one approaches it, perhaps one feels nervous anticipation? You are, after all, going to step into the presence of Apollo. You don’t want to get things wrong either, for then your journey might be wasted.

After you have cleansed yourself with Castalian water, you might walk up to the altar before the temple to make your offering of pelanon, the honeyed bread that all pilgrims give. You would give money too, the amount dependent upon your financial state. And then, you would offer a goat, the preferred blood offering. This act would have awoken a sense of morality in you, and you pray that when the cold water is poured over the animal, it shivers a suitable amount, for if it does not, then there will be no prophecy for you.

The Temple of Apollo at Delphi (reconstruction by K. Iliakis)

Once your offering have been made and accepted, you are told by the priests that you may make your way into the temple.

The time has come.

First you pass through a small forest of columns and the pronaos of the temple where the words of Delphi’s famous maxims arrest you. 

‘Know thyself’

‘Nothing in excess’

‘Surety brings ruin’

Do you doubt yourself as you step into the temple? Are you guilty of the hubris the Gods so despise in mortals? 

How many people turned away at this point, unable to step further?

You can read all about the Delphic Maxims by CLICKING HERE.

But you step into the temple, as sure of yourself as you can be, and your eyes are treated to some of the most beautiful works of art you have seen, frescoes, votive objects such as musical instruments, kraters, gilded tables, chariots, weapons, crowns and more, all offered to Apollo. There is even the iron throne that was where the great epinikion poet, Pindar, sat when he recited his words to Apollo at Delphi.

And that saying, in these fortunate circumstances, brings the belief that from now on this city will be renowned for garlands and horses, and its name will be spoken amid harmonious festivities. Phoebus, lord of Lycia and Delos, you who love the Castalian spring of Parnassus, may you willingly put these wishes in your thoughts, and make this a land of fine men. All the resources for the achievements of mortal excellence come from the gods; for being skillful, or having powerful arms, or an eloquent tongue. As for me, in my eagerness to praise that man, I hope that I may not be like one who hurls the bronze-cheeked javelin, which I brandish in my hand, outside the course, but that I may make a long cast, and surpass my rivals. Would that all of time may, in this way, keep his prosperity and the gift of wealth on a straight course, and bring forgetfulness of troubles. Indeed he might remember in what kind of battles of war he stood his ground with an enduring soul, when, by the gods’ devising, they found honour such as no other Greek can pluck, a proud garland of wealth. 

(Pindar, Pythian 1, For Hieron of Aetna)

Pindar

Beyond the piles of offerings about you, and the other maxims inscribed upon walls and plaques, there is a wood and ivory screen that separates the first room of the temple from the cella.

One of the priests ushers you through the screen, and on the other side you see the main altar where Apollo looks down upon you. At the god’s feet is the pythomantis, the eternal flame that is always tended by the Pythia and the Hestiades, the five chosen Delphic maids who continually feed the flames with fir wood from the mountainside.

The temple smells strongly of smoke, of oil and burning wood, but there is another smell you cannot discern, something slightly foul coming from a chamber beneath the cella.

Besides the Delphic maids, there are three priests of the oracle, and the five holy men descended from Deucalion, whose ark landed on Parnassus during the Great Flood.

One of the priests steps forward to ask what question you would pose to Apollo, and then he leads you, under the watchful gaze of the others, down the steps to the oracular adyton below the cella.

It is dark, lit only by the slightest of fires as you descend into the earth, a faint scent of sulphur stinging your nose. When you reach the adyton, you see the great omphalos stone, covered by the agrenon, the wool net with golden eagles upon it. There are also ancient statues of Apollo himself in wood and gold. You would observe them more closely, but then your heart is pounding and you sweat, and then you see her: the Pythia.

Apollo and the Pythia who uttered his prophecies to mortals

She sits upon a bronze tripod, above a crack in the earth, a branch of laurel in her hand, her eyes shaded by the cowl of her cloak. Upon the floor is a cistern with water from the spring of Cassiotis.

The priest speaks your question to the Pythia, there is a pause, and then she utters the words of Apollo…

…the untrod Parnassian cliffs, shining, receive the wheel of day for mortals. The smoke of dry myrtle flies to Phoebus’ roof. The woman of Delphi sits on the sacred tripod, and sings out to the Hellenes whatever Apollo cries to her. But you Delphian servants of Phoebus, go to the silver whirlpools of Castalia; come to the temple when you have bathed in its pure waters; it is good to keep your mouth holy in speech and give good words from your lips to those who wish to consult the oracle. But I will labor at the task that has been mine from childhood, with laurel boughs and sacred wreaths making pure the entrance to Phoebus’ temple, and the ground moist with drops of water; and with my bow I will chase the crowds of birds that harm the holy offerings. For as I was born without a mother and a father, I serve the temple of Phoebus…

(Euripides, Ion, Line 82)

Today, we know very little of the divination process at Delphi. Scholars continue to try and piece together a picture of the process of what happened and what was involved from a few mentions in ancient sources.

Often, answers were given in riddles, if they were not ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers. Sometimes, the oracle would give a punishment or penance such as that given to Herakles after the murder of his family.

The archaeological site of Delphi as seen from above the theatre, with the temple of Apollo below.

Despite Delphi’s sacred role in the ancient world, including to the Romans, not all men of the Tiber were kind to the sanctuary of Apollo.

Sulla and Nero both stripped the sanctuary of bronze and marble statuary. However, Domitian repaired the temple of Apollo in A.D. 84, and Hadrian, a great Hellenophile, lavished gifts upon the sanctuary when he visited in A.D. 126 and 129.

Even Caracalla, who is emperor in The Blood Road, ordered the restoration of parts of the sanctuary, perhaps as atonement for the murder of his brother, Geta.

The sights described above on our virtual pilgrimage through the sanctuary are pieced together with information from the archaeological record and ancient sources such as Pausanias, Euripides and others. There are many gaps in our knowledge, especially around the actual rituals of divination.

One thing is certain, however, and that is the awe that both ancient and modern visitors to Delphi experience. Whether the sanctuary was at its peak during the Golden Age of the Classical period, or whether it lay in romantic ruin as it does today, one cannot help but feel overwhelmed by Delphi as one walks in the footsteps of millions who sought the wisdom of Apollo.

I’ve been to Delphi several times, and each time feels like the first. And after I’ve walked the sacred way, past the treasuries and empty spaces once filled by incredible works of art, I like to sit at the top of the theatre and look down over the sanctuary to the temple of Apollo and the valley of sacred olive trees far below, leading to the sea. The crowds about me disappear and all I can hear are birds, cicadas and the wind. I feel peace like nowhere else, and in that peace, if you listen closely enough, you might just hear music washing down that mountainside where Apollo made his mark on the world.

Stay tuned for Part VIII in The World of The Blood Road when we’ll be visiting Antioch, the ‘Rome of the East’.

Thank your for reading.

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