Author: AdamAH

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Religious Rites in Ancient Rome

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prayers tried to cover eventualities.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Relief of a Suovetaurilia ceremony

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

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

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

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

The Goddess Tellus on the Ara Pacis in Rome

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

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

German print of Hannibal, victorious against Rome at Cannae

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

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

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

Relief of Emperor Marcus Aurelius performing a sacrifice

Divination rites were also a major part of Roman religion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apollo and the Pythia who uttered his prophecies to mortals

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

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

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

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

Looking to the to the stars for guidance…

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

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

Thank you for reading.

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Numina Romana – Spirits in Roman Religion

In all of the many years I’ve been researching and writing about the world of ancient Rome, the topic of Roman religion has been a constant source of fascination for me as an author and historian. Many of my readers have echoed this sentiment too, pointed out that they love the inclusion of that aspect of Roman life.

You can read more about writing Roman religion HERE.

But what is it that fascinates us about Roman religious beliefs and practices?

For me, it is the openness and flexibility of Roman religion. Mortals had a closer, perhaps more symbiont, relationship with their gods. The religion was highly customizable.

But, like any other religion, there was a sort of evolution over time. Most religions today believe in a spirit realm, that spirits are present, and often they are menacing.

It was a little different in Roman religion. We are all familiar with the gods of the Roman pantheon – Jupiter, Juno, Minerva etc. – but what you may not know is that sprits of various kinds played a central role in Roman religious beliefs and practices.

In this short post, we’re going to be taking a look at the various kinds of spirits that Romans believed in.

In the world of ancient Rome, spirits were known as numina (sing. numen). These were divine spirits or powers that were present everywhere in life, people, and places. They were not anthropomorphic at first.

Originally, Romans may have believed that a numen was a place itself, such as a wood, river, spring, or cave etc., and that that place was supernatural or divine.

Gradually, however, with the influence of Greek religion, Romans came to believe that these places were inhabited or protected by these numina or spirits. Eventually, these numina were given names and traits. In many instances they began to take form.

Illustration of a statue of Sancus found in the Sabine’s shrine on the Quirinal (Wikimedia Commons)

Numina were present in material things such as crops, but also in actions such as travel.

These spirits could also inhabit more abstract ideas such as Discipline (the Goddess Disciplina), Virtue (the Goddess Pietas), or Trust and Honesty (the God Sancus). Even the living emperor, his role as such, had a numen that was worshipped by the people.

Truth be told, there are myriad numina in Roman religion, and most of them were nameless. Most Romans honoured the numen or numina that were related to their home or occupation.

But what were the various types of spirits or numina whom Romans believed in?

Let us go through the most prominent ones…

Bronze genius depicted as paterfamilias (1st century AD) Wikimedia Commons

In addition to the main gods, goddesses and heroes who were worshipped in ancient Rome, there were many types of numina:

The Genii (sing. Genius) literally mean the ‘begetter’. Early on, this was a man’s guardian spirit who helped him to beget children. This spirit was honoured on the birthday of the paterfamilias, the man in whom it lived.

The genius was symbolized by the snake which was a protective symbol of household protectors.

Over time, people and places came to have genii. For example, the spirit of a place was the genius loci, and if one was in a place where one did not know whom to worship or make offerings to, one would pray to the genius loci of that particular place.

Lararium in the House of the Vettii, Pompeii. It depicts the ancestral genius (upper centre) flanked by the Lares, with a serpent below. (Wikimedia Commons)

The next group of spirits we’re going to look at are the Lares (sing. Lar).

These were very important numina in the world of ancient Rome. The Lares were ancient and mysterious spirits whose original character is unknown. It is thought that early on, they were guardians of farmland.

The Lares evolved into protective household gods. Every household, however grand or simple, had them. They were worshipped at what was called a lararium, a shrine dedicated to them, and prayers to the Lares were led by the paterfamilias.

These numina were worshipped on the Kalends (first day), the Nones (ninth day), and the Ides (fifteenth day) of every month.

There were also Lares of other less personal places such as neighbourhoods (Lares Compitales), and cities (Lares Publici or Lares Praestites). In Rome, the Lares Praestites had a temple at the beginning of the Via Sacra. 

The Lares Compitales were worshipped on the festival of Compitalia, a Roman agricultural festival, perhaps alluding to their rural roots. The Lares in general had their festival at Rome on December 22.

Offerings of food to the Penates were burned on the domus hearth fire

Another group of spirits who went hand in hand with the Lares were known as Di Penates. These were also protective spirits of the household, but more specifically the pantry.

At every meal, a portion of the food was set aside for the Penates, and this was offered to them on the hearth fire. Salt and fruit was always left on the table for them.

The festival of the Penates was held on October 14.

Di Penates were also not limited to a household, the same as the Lares. The Penates Publici were attached to the Roman state and were worshipped alongside Vesta, Goddess of the Hearth, in her temple.

Honouring dead family members

Now we move into the realm of the remembrance and honouring of the spirits of the dead.

The Manes, the Roman spirits of the divine dead, were a group that Romans took very seriously.

The dead were to be respected, remembered and honoured in ancient Rome, and there were several festivals at which this was done: Feralia, Parentalia, and Lemuria.

The belief was that every dead person, no matter the age or gender, had its own spirit, and that spirit was known as a manes (yes, plural and singular forms are the same here).

The Manes were mainly honoured as the Manes Familiae, or more commonly as Di Parentes, the ‘Dead of the Family’.

“To the spirits of the dead: For Cornelia Frontina, who lived 16 years and 7 months, her father, Marcus Ulpius Callistus, freedman of the emperor, overseer in the armory of the Ludus Magnus, and Flavia Nice, his most virtuous wife, set up this [monument] for themselves, their freedmen and freedwomen, and their descendants.”

Graves were also important, and to be respected, as is evidenced by the many memorials and monuments that line the roads leading into Rome, or that dot the grounds of many ancient necropoli. Graves were considered dis manibus sacrum, ‘sacred to the divine dead’, and this was inscribed on monuments. Later, individuals were named in grave dedications that sometimes told their stories.

Ancestor worship was a part of honouring the Manes, and they were remembered in households by the imagines which were wax masks or busts of the deceased. It is believed this was the case because the Romans believed that the life source was in the head, and not the heart.

Imagines later became works of art to decorate homes, but the old religious significance never really disappeared.

Romulus and Remus upon an altar dedicated to Mars and Venus (from Ostia)

The spirits of the dead were not always entities whose remembrance gave comfort to the living. There was another group of spirits who were to be dreaded and propitiated: Lemures.

Lemures were spirits of the dead of a household, or place, who haunted the domus or location, those who had been violently murdered or met an untimely end. These numina were hostile, and often the Lemures of children were feared the most.

They were of a very different character to the Manes Familiae.

The poet Ovid, in his Fasti, relates a story on the origins of Lemures and the festival of Lemuria:

Why the day was called Lemuria, and what is the origin of the name, escapes me; it is for some god to discover it. Son of the Pleiad, thou reverend master of the puissant wand, inform me: oft hast thou seen the palace of the Stygian Jove. At my prayer the Bearer of the Herald’s Staff (Caducifer) was come. Learn the cause of the name; the god himself made it known. When Romulus had buried his brother’s ghost in the grave, and the obsequies had been paid to the too nimble Remus, unhappy Faustulus and Acca, with streaming hair, sprinkled the burnt bones with their tears. Then at twilight’s fall they sadly took the homeward way, and flung themselves on their hard couch, just as it was. The gory ghost of Remus seemed to stand at the bedside and to speak these words in a faint murmur: “Look on me, who shared the half, the full half of your tender care, behold what I am come to, and what I was of late! A little while ago I might have been the foremost of my people, if but the birds had assigned the throne to me. Now I am an empty wraith, escaped from the flames of the pyre; that is all that remains of the once great Remus. Alas, where is my father Mars? If only you spoke the truth, and it was he who sent the wild beast’s dugs to suckle the abandoned babes. A citizen’s rash hand undid him whom the she-wolf saved; O how far more merciful was she! Ferocious Celer, mayest thou yield up thy cruel soul through wounds, and pass like me all bloody underneath the earth! My brother willed not this: his love’s a match for mine: he let fall upon my death – ‘twas all he could – his tears. Pray him by your tears, by your fosterage, that he would celebrate a day by signal honour done to me.” As the ghost gave this charge, they yearned to embrace him and stretched forth their arms; the slippery shade escaped the clasping hands. When the vision fled and carried slumber with it, the pair reported to the king his brother’s words. Romulus complied, and gave the name Remuria to the day on which due worship is paid to buried ancestors. In the course of ages the rough letter, which stood at the beginning of the name, was changed into the smooth; and soon the souls of the silent multitude were also called Lemures: that is the meaning of the word, that is the force of the expression. But the ancients shut the temples on these days, as even now you see them closed at the season sacred to the dead. The times are unsuitable for the marriage both of a widow and a maid: she who marries then, will not live long. For the same reason, if you give weight to proverbs, the people say bad women wed in May. But these three festivals fall about the same time, though not on three consecutive days.

(Ovid, Fasti, Book V; trans. James G. Frazer)

It is quite a moving beginning the tradition. As relayed by Ovid, the festival of Lemuria did not fall on three consecutive days, but was celebrated on May 9th, 11th, and 13th.

Les Parques (The Parcae, ca. 1885) by Alfred Agache

There were other numina or spirits that took on a more divine nature in Roman religion.

The Fata (Fates) or the Parcae, were the powers of Destiny, and they were known by the names Nona, Decima and Morta.

Originally, the Parcae, believed to have been influenced by a triad of Celtic goddesses, may have been birth goddesses, but this role evolved into something more all-encompassing.

One could not escape the Parcae, or rather, Fate.

Similarly, one could also not escape the Furies.

The Remorse of Orestes, where he is surrounded by the Erinyes, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1862

Influenced by Greek beliefs, the Furiae were goddesses of terror to the Romans, similar to the Greek Erinyes.

The Furiae were female spirits who carried out the vengeance of the Gods on mortals. If you’ve read Saturnalia, these anima will be familiar to you.

These numina carried out their duties on Earth as well as in the Underworld. They were everywhere and could not be escaped from. Traditionally, there were three Furiae: Tisiphone, Megara, and Alecto. Roman tradition also sometimes included two more: Adrasta and of course, Nemesis.

Whoever you were, and whatever you had done, the Furiae were to be respected and feared.

Hylas and the Nymphs by Waterhouse (1896)

Lastly, we come to perhaps one of the most well-known groups of numina in Greek and Roman religion: the Nymphs.

The Nymphs were female nature spirits of objects or places such as trees, springs, rivers, mountains etc.

They were everywhere and were usually young and beautiful, and loved music and dancing.

The Nymphs were not immortal as some might think, but they lived much longer than humans.

The cult of the Nymphs was popular in Roman religion, perhaps not only because they were young and beautiful and not menacing, but perhaps also because they were everywhere.

And like other Roman divinities and numina, they were more relatable to humans than the gods of later, ‘revealed’ religions.

Nymphaeum, or shrine dedicated to the Nymphs (Jerash, Jordan)

Those are the primary numina of Roman religion. I hope that you have learned something new in this short post.

While it is true that the belief in spirits spans most world religions, the Roman beliefs, to me, are utterly fascinating for they are a mixture of the divine and departed, of nurture and menace, of fear and inspiration.

Just as Romans lived with and honoured their Gods on a daily basis, so too did the spirits of their world roam alongside them.

Thank you for reading.

If you would like to learn all about Sacrifices in Roman religion, CLICK HERE to carry on reading.

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Literature in Ancient Rome

All literature, all philosophical treatises, all the voices of antiquity are full of examples for imitation, which would all lie unseen in darkness without the light of literature. (Cicero)

Salvete Romanophiles!

If you are here, presumably you like to read. Perhaps you also like to hear things read or performed? Maybe you’re a movie person? Or are comedy skits your thing?

There are many different forms of literary arts today, just as there were in ancient Rome. Actually, in Rome, no matter the literary form, there was something for everyone. You didn’t even have to be able to read to enjoy literature of a sort.

In this post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at this quite large subject by discussing the types of literature in ancient Rome, some of the main authors and surviving texts, and which forms of literature survived the test of time and public opinion in the capital the Roman Empire.

Roman writing materials

Literary sources that we know of from the world of ancient Rome include such things as histories, speeches, poems, plays, practical manuals, law books and biographies, treatises and personal letters.

More often than not, authors in ancient Rome were well-educated and even very wealthy, and as a result, the opinions often expressed in literature reflected the values of the upper classes either because the authors were of that class themselves, or because they were patronized by the wealthy.

The main types or classifications of literature were drama, poetry, prose and satire. Though much was written in each of these areas in ancient Rome, in some cases, very little has survived, which makes this a sort of tragedy in and of it self. We’re going to be taking a look at each of these in turn.

An array of Greek theatre masks

Drama was performed in Rome since before the 3rd century B.C., and these early performances took the form of mimes, dances, and farces.

One example of these early forms of drama were the fabulea atellanae which originated in the town Atella. These were a collection of vulgar farces that contained a lot of low or buffoonish comedy and rude jokes. The were often improvised by the actors who wore masks.

Mimes were very similar and were dramatic performances by men and women that were more licentious nature. They were highly popular, especially with the lower classes, but they have also been accused of being the cause of the decline of comedy in ancient Rome. By the early sixth century A.D. they were banned or suppressed.

The ancient theatre of Epidaurus, Greece

Enter SCEPARNIO, with a spade on his shoulder.

SCEPARNIO

to himself . O ye immortal Gods, what a dreadful tempest has Neptune sent us this last night! The storm has unroofed the cottage. What need of words is there? It was no storm, but what Alcmena met with in Euripides1; it has so knocked all the tiles from off the roof; more light has it given us, and has added to our windows.

Enter PLESIDIPPUS, at a distance, talking with three CITIZENS.

PLESIDIPPUS

I have both withdrawn you from your avocations, and that has not succeeded on account of which I’ve brought you; I could not catch the Procurer down at the harbour. But I have been unwilling to abandon all hope by reason of my remissness; on that account, my friends, have I the longer detained you. Now hither to the Temple of Venus am I come to see, where he was saying that he was about to perform a sacrifice.

SCEPARNIO

aloud to himself, at a distance . If I am wise, I shall be getting ready this clay that is awaiting me. Falls to work digging.

PLESIDIPPUS

looking round . Some one, I know not who, is speaking near to me. Enter DÆMONES, from his house.

DÆM.

Hallo! Sceparnio!

SCEPARNIO

Who’s calling me by name?

DÆM.

He who paid his money for you.

SCEPARNIO

turning round . As though you would say, Dæmones, that I am your slave.

DÆM.

There’s occasion for plenty of clay2, therefore dig up plenty of earth. I find that the whole of my cottage must be covered; for now it’s shining through it, more full of holes than a sieve.

PLESIDIPPUS

advancing . Health to you, good father, and to both of you, indeed. DÆM. Health to you.

SCEPARNIO

to PLESIDIPPUS, who is muffled up in a coat . But whether are you male or female, who are calling him father?

PLESIDIPPUS

Why really, I’m a man.

DÆM.

Then, man, go seek a father elsewhere. I once had an only daughter, that only one I lost. Of the male sex I never had a child.

PLESIDIPPUS

But the Gods will give—-

SCEPARNIO

going on digging . A heavy mischance to you indeed, i’ faith, whoever you are, who are occupying us, already occupied, with your prating.

PLESIDIPPUS

pointing to the cottage . Pray are you dwelling there?

SCEPARNIO

Why do you ask that? Are you reconnoitring the place for you to come and rob there?

PLESIDIPPUS

It befits a slave to be right rich in his savings, whom, in the presence of his master, the conversation cannot escape, or who is to speak rudely to a free man.

SCEPARNIO

And it befits a man to be shameless and impudent, for him to whom there’s nothing owing, of his own accord to come to the house of another person annoying people.

(Plautus, excerpt from Rudens (or ‘The Fisherman’s Rope’), Act I; Henry Thomas Riley, Ed.) 

When we think of ancient theatre, however, we cannot help but think first of ancient Greek drama, which was an art form in the lands of the Hellenes long before Romans began producing Latin literature. And like so many other things, the Romans adopted forms of drama from the Greeks as well, especially drama in the form of plays.

Greek ‘New Comedy’ was introduced in Latin in Rome around 240 B.C. by Livius Andonicus and Naevius, and shortly afterward, Greek plays were being adapted by Terence, Caecilus Statius and of course, Plautus, whose early works are the oldest Latin literary works to survive in their entirety. These plays were called fabulae palliatae, or ‘plays in Greek cloaks’.

However, Latin drama had begun to evolve out of this, and soon there emerged the fabulae togatae, or ‘plays in togas’, which were comic plays about Italian life and Italian characters. Sadly, there are no surviving examples of these early Latin comedies.

Surprisingly, by the first century B.C., Roman comic plays pretty much ceased to be written and were replaced by mime which was much more vulgar and thought by many to be of little literary merit. 

Illustration of Roman mime performance

Other fabulae were introduced by Livius Andronicus, including the fabula crepidata which was a Roman tragedy on a Greek theme, and the fabula praetexta which was a Roman drama based on a historical or legendary theme.

The latter, a form invented by Naevius, gained little popularity in Rome, and by the late Republican era, tragedy in general began to decline. There was a short revival under Augustus, but it did not last, and there are no surviving works of Roman tragedy that come down to us.

It seems the Romans would have leaned more toward Dumb and Dumber than Romeo and Juliet…

One theory about the lack of survival of tragedy in ancient Rome is that under the Empire, it was difficult to choose a safe subject. 

Livius Andronicus

The second form of literature we are going to look at is poetry, and this seems to have caught on much more in ancient Rome.

Again, there was some borrowing from the Greeks when it came to poetic meters, but a Latin style did develop.

The oldest form of Latin verse was known as ‘Saturnine meter’, which was named after the god Saturn, it is believed, to indicate its great antiquity.

Latin poetic verse did not have stressed or unstressed syllables like the English verse we are familiar with, but rather it relied on the larger quantity of long and short syllables in a single line.

One example of this is hexameter, which was thought to be perfected by Virgil:

Thus he cries weeping, and gives his fleet the reins, and at last glides up to the shores of Euboean Cumae. They turn the prows seaward, then with the grip of anchors’ teeth made fast the ships, and the round keels fringe the beach. In hot haste the youthful band leaps forth on the Hesperian shore; some seek the seeds of flame hidden in veins of flint, some despoil the woods, the thick coverts of game, and point to new-found streams. But loyal Aeneas seeks the heights, where Apollo sits enthroned, and a vast cavern hard by, hidden haunt of the dread Sibyl, into whom the Delian seer breathes a mighty mind and soul, revealing the future. Now they pass under the grove of Trivia and the roof of gold.

(Virgil, Aeneid, Book VI, Trans. H.R. Fairclough)

Mosaic showing Virgil with the Muses, Clio (history) and Melpomene (tragedy) – Bardo Museum, Tunis

Fescennine verses were an early form of Latin poetry that, like the mimes, were intended to amuse the masses. These were ribald in nature and took the form of songs or dialogues that were often performed at festivals. It is believed they may be the origin of Italian drama.

There were also naeniae, or neniae, were funeral poems or songs that were performed by the female relatives of the deceased, or by hired singers.

Lyric poetry was popular in ancient Rome, and was more often sung and not written. However, a very few examples of this do exist such as a poem composed by Livius Andronicus himself around 207 B.C. for the goddess Juno, and the Carmen Saeculare composed by Horace which was sung at the Secular Games of 17 B.C.

Blessed is he, who far from the cares of business,

Like one of mankind’s ancient race,

Ploughs his paternal acres, with his own bullocks,

And is free of usury’s taint,

Not roused as a soldier is, by the fierce trumpet,

Nor afraid of the angry sea,

Shunning the Forum, avoiding proud thresholds

Of citizens holding more power.

Instead he’s either out tying his full-grown vines

To the heights of his poplar trees,

Or watching his wandering herds of lowing cattle

In some secluded deep valley,

Or pruning the useless branches back with his knife,

And grafting superior ones,

Or storing thick honey away in clean vessels,

Or perhaps shearing helpless sheep:

Or when crowned with a garland of ripened fruit,

In the fields, Autumn rears its head,

How he takes delight in picking the grafted pears

And the grapes that vie with purple,

To honour Priapus, and Father Silvanus

Who’ll protect his boundaries.

It’s pleasant to lie now beneath some old oak-tree,

Or now on the springy turf,

While the streams go gliding, between their steep banks,

And little birds sing in the leaves,

And the fountains murmur, with flowing waters

That invite us to gentle sleep.

Then when Jove the Thunderer’s wintry season

Brings both rain and snow together,

With a pack of hounds you can drive fierce wild-boars,

Here and there, to waiting barriers,

Or on gleaming poles, stretch the broad-meshed nets out,

A snare for the greedy thrushes,

Or catch with a noose trembling hares, and migrating

Cranes, the most joyful of prizes.

Among such delights who can’t fail to forget,

The sad cares that passion may bring?

And if a chaste wife should be playing her part there,

In caring for home and children,

Like a Sabine girl, or the sun-tanned wife, of some

Nimble-footed Apulian,

Piling the sacred hearth high with old firewood

For her weary man’s arrival,

Penning the frisky flock in the wickerwork fold,

And draining the swollen udders,

Then pouring the year’s sweet vintage from the jar,

And preparing a home-grown meal:

Then Lucrine oysters could never delight me more

Or a dish of scar or turbot,

Should winter thundering with Eastern waves

Direct them towards our coastline:

Not African fowls, nor Ionian pheasants

Could more happily pass my lips,

Than the fruit collected from the most heavily

Loaded branches of the olive,

Or the leaves of the meadow-loving sorrel,

Mallows good for a sick body,

Or a lamb sacrificed at Terminus’ feast,

Or a kid retrieved from the wolf’s jaws.

At such a meal what a pleasure it is to see

Flocks of sheep hurrying homewards,

The listless oxen dragging along an upturned

Ploughshare, yoked to their weary necks,

And the crowd of slaves born there on a wealthy farm,

Ranged all round the gleaming Lares.’

When Alfius the usurer has uttered all this,

On the verge of a rural life,

He recalls his money, once more, on the Ides,

On the Kalends, farms it again!

(Horace, Carmen Saeculare, II, The Delights of the Country; trans. A. S. Kline)

Funerary inscription for Tiberius Claudius Tiberinus

Another form of poetry that was widespread in ancient Rome was the elegy.

Elegies were poems to express personal sentiments that were commonly used in funeral inscriptions. They often took the form of an elegiac couplet with alternating lines of hexameter and pentameter.

Elegies were influenced by Greeks who were present in Rome in the first century B.C., and apart from funeral inscriptions, they were mostly used for love poetry by such writers as Gallus, Tibullus, Propertius, Catullus and Ovid.

Lesbia, come, let us live and love, and be

deaf to the vile jabber of the ugly old fools,

the sun may come up each day but when our

star is out…our night, it shall last forever and

give me a thousand kisses and a hundred more

a thousand more again, and another hundred,

another thousand, and again a hundred more,

as we kiss these passionate thousands let

us lose track; in our oblivion, we will avoid

the watchful eyes of stupid, evil peasants

hungry to figure out

how many kisses we have kissed.

(Catullus, V; trans. Michael G. Donkin)

Artist impression of Catullus singing to an audience at his villa (NYPL, Science Source Images)

Funeral inscriptions were also popular in the form of epigrams. These were written in verse, and from the second century B.C. were written on themes of love.

One of the great Roman writers of epigrams was Martial:

Laevina, so chaste as to rival even the Sabine women of old, and more austere than even her stern husband, chanced, while entrusting herself sometimes to the waters of the Lucrine lake, sometimes to those of Avernus, and while frequently refreshing herself in the baths of Baiae, to fall into flames of love, and, leaving her husband, fled with a young gallant. She arrived a Penelope, she departed a Helen.

(Martial, On Laevina, Epigram LXII; trans. Bohn.)

Pastoral landscape in Etruria

Bucolic poetry also achieved a level of popularity. This was poetry on pastoral themes, and it included such works as Virgil’s Eclogues, and Georgics, while authors such as Lucretius used this particular poetic form to give instruction, such as in his De Rerum Natura. 

THE WORLD IS NOT ETERNAL

     And first,

Since body of earth and water, air’s light breath,

And fiery exhalations (of which four

This sum of things is seen to be compact)

So all have birth and perishable frame,

Thus the whole nature of the world itself

Must be conceived as perishable too.

For, verily, those things of which we see

The parts and members to have birth in time

And perishable shapes, those same we mark

To be invariably born in time

And born to die. And therefore when I see

The mightiest members and the parts of this

Our world consumed and begot again,

‘Tis mine to know that also sky above

And earth beneath began of old in time

And shall in time go under to disaster.

     And lest in these affairs thou deemest me

To have seized upon this point by sleight to serve

My own caprice- because I have assumed

That earth and fire are mortal things indeed,

And have not doubted water and the air

Both perish too and have affirmed the same

To be again begotten and wax big-

Mark well the argument: in first place, lo,

Some certain parts of earth, grievously parched

By unremitting suns, and trampled on

By a vast throng of feet, exhale abroad

A powdery haze and flying clouds of dust,

Which the stout winds disperse in the whole air.

A part, moreover, of her sod and soil

Is summoned to inundation by the rains;

And rivers graze and gouge the banks away.

Besides, whatever takes a part its own

In fostering and increasing [aught]…

     . . . . . .

Is rendered back; and since, beyond a doubt,

Earth, the all-mother, is beheld to be

Likewise the common sepulchre of things,

Therefore thou seest her minished of her plenty,

And then again augmented with new growth.

(Lucretius, Re Rerum Natura, Book V, lines 235-260; trans. William Ellery Leonard. E. P. Dutton. 1916)

Lastly, among the poetic forms, we have epic poetry.

This was narrative poetry on a grand scale that related the deeds of ancient heroes.

It was introduced by the philhellene, Livius Andronicus, in the third century B.C. with his Latin translation of Homer’s Odyssey.

Latin epic poems were written by men such as Lucan, Silius Italicus, Valerius Flaccus, Statius and Claudian. However, when it comes to epic Latin poetry, the greatest work is by far Virgil’s Aeneid. Who can forget these opening lines?:

Arms and the man I sing, who first from the coasts of Troy, exiled by fate, came to Italy and Lavine shores; much buffeted on sea and land by violence from above, through cruel Juno’s unforgiving wrath, and much enduring in war also, till he should build a city and bring his gods to Latium; whence came the Latin race, the lords of Alba, and the lofty walls of Rome.

(Virgil, Aeneid, Book I; Trans. H.R. Fairclough)

Cicero

And what of prose?

Today, prose is perhaps the most common form of literature. But in ancient Rome, though it was commonly used in certain social circles, prose was used for more than just works of fiction or non-fiction.

In ancient Rome, prose was actually born out of public speech records or annales. Interestingly, Roman prose was not really influenced by Greek tradition.

The high point of Roman prose is believed to be Cicero, the bane of every Latin student’s life.

Those, therefore, who allege that old age is devoid of useful activity adduce nothing to the purpose, and are like those who would say that the pilot does nothing in the sailing of the ship, because, while others are climbing the masts, or running about the gangways, or working at the pumps, he sits quietly in the stern and simply holds the tiller. He may not be doing what younger members of the crew are doing, but what he does is better and much more important. It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character, and judgement; in these qualities old age is usually not only not poorer, but is even richer.

(Cicero, Cato the Elder: On Old Age, XVII; ed. William Armistead Falconer)

But what were the various types of prose that one might encounter in ancient Rome?

Well, there were controversiae which were rhetorical Latin exercises in oratory that were used in the law courts.

Declamationes, were exercises that were performed by students in rhetoric, and suasoriae were speeches of advice or political oratory.

Obviously, these were forms of literature that were practiced by a select few who had the means and the will to study rhetoric, probably those who were climbing the cursus honorum. 

Artist impression of an ancient library

Perhaps the form of Roman prose we are most familiar with today is the ‘history’, but here there was indeed Greek influence.

The earliest Roman historians wrote in Greek because Latin had not fully developed as a literary medium, but they also wanted to tie Rome’s foundation to the glories and deeds of the more ancient Greek world. Think of of Thucydides, Aristotle, Xenophon and Herodotus to name a few. Early Roman writers wanted to live up to these great historians, or go them better.

The first historical work in Latin was Cato the Elder’s Origines which was a work on Roman and Italian history. It inspired the study of Rome’s official records which where published after 130 B.C. as the Annales Maximi. This was a history of Rome in chronological order and became a style of writing that was later used by such famous Roman authors as Sallust, Tacitus, and Ammianus Marcellinus. 

Julius Caesar

Another form of prose was the biography, and the earliest version of this was the funeral oration. Later, this developed as the memoirs of Republican generals, such as Julius Caesar’s Conquest of Gaul.

There in like manner, Vercingetorix the son of Celtillus the Arvernian, a young man of the highest power (whose father had held the supremacy of entire Gaul, and had been put to death by his fellow-citizens, for this reason, because he aimed at sovereign power), summoned together his dependents, and easily excited them. On his design being made known, they rush to arms: he is expelled from the town of Gergovia , by his uncle Gobanitio and the rest of the nobles, who were of opinion, that such an enterprise ought not to be hazarded: he did not however desist, but held in the country a levy of the needy and desperate. Having collected such a body of troops, he brings over to his sentiments such of his fellow-citizens as he has access to: he exhorts them to take up arms in behalf of the general freedom, and having assembled great forces he drives from the state his opponents, by whom he had been expelled a short time previously. He is saluted king by his partisans; he sends embassadors in every direction, he conjures them to adhere firmly to their promise. He quickly attaches to his interests the Senones , Parisii , Pictones, Cadurci, Turones , Aulerci, Lemovice, and all the others who border on the ocean; the supreme command is conferred on him by unanimous consent. On obtaining this authority, he demands hostages from all these states, he orders a fixed number of soldiers to be sent to him immediately; he determines what quantity of arms each state shall prepare at home, and before what time; he pays particular attention to the cavalry. To the utmost vigilance he adds the utmost rigor of authority; and by the severity of his punishments brings over the wavering: for on the commission of a greater crime he puts the perpetrators to death by fire and every sort of tortures; for a slighter cause, he sends home the offenders with their ears cut off, or one of their eyes put out, that they may be an example to the rest, and frighten others by the severity of their punishment.

(Julius Caesar, Caesar’s Gallic War, VII.4; Trans. W. A. McDevitte and W. S. Bohn)

No autobiographies survive from the imperial period, however, what have survived are biographies known as vitae, or ‘Lives’. There are many examples of ‘Lives’ that will be familiar to students of Roman history, including Tacitus’ life of Agricola, or the lives of the Twelve Caesars by Suetonius. Another example are the Confessiones of St. Augustine of Hippo.

Roman prose could also take the form of letters that were written for publication, such as the letters of Pliny the Younger.

Or there were the dialogues which were Greek in origin, but which Cicero used to great effect in his treatises. Dialogues were in the form of a conversation on a particular theme.

The last form of prose was one that we are perhaps more familiar with today, and that is the novel.

Gaius Petronius Arbiter

So after they had all wished themselves good sense and good health, Trimalchio looked at Niceros and said, “You used to be better company at a dinner; I do not know why you are dumb now, and do not utter a sound. Do please, to make me happy, tell us of your adventure.” Niceros was delighted by his friend’s amiability and said, “May I never turn another penny if I am not ready to burst with joy at seeing you in such a good humour. Well, it shall be pure fun then, though I am afraid your clever friends will laugh at me. Still, let them; I will tell my story; what harm does a man’s laugh do me? Being laughed at is more satisfactory than being sneered at.” So spake the hero, and began the following story:

“’While I was still a slave, we were living in a narrow street; the house now belongs to Gavilla. There it was God’s will that I should fall in love with the wife of Terentius the inn-keeper; you remember her, Melissa of Tarentum, a pretty round thing. But I swear it was no base passion; I did not care about her in that way, but rather because she had a beautiful nature…”

(Petronius, Satyricon, 61; trans. Michael Heseltine)

The earliest surviving novel from ancient Rome is the Satyricon which was written in a mixture of prose and some verse by Gaius Petronius Arbiter during the reign of Emperor Nero.

The only complete Latin novel to survive is Metamorphoses or The Golden Ass by Apuleius:

The moment the sun put the darkness to flight and ushered in a new 

day, I woke up and arose at once. Being in any case an all too eager 

student of the remarkable and miraculous, and remembering that I 

was now in the heart of Thessaly, renowned the whole world over as 

the cradle of magic arts and spells, and that it was in this very city 

that my friend Aristomenes’ story had begun, I examined attentively 

everything I saw, on tenterhooks with keen anticipation. There was 

nothing I looked at in the city that I didn’t believe to be other than 

what it was: I imagined that everything everywhere had been changed 

by some infernal spell into a different shape – I thought the very 

stones I stumbled against must be petrified human beings, I thought 

the birds I heard singing and the trees growing around the city walls 

had acquired their feathers and leaves in the same way, and I thought 

the fountains were liquefied human bodies. I expected statues and 

pictures to start walking, walls to speak, oxen and other cattle to utter 

prophecies, and oracles to issue suddenly from the very sky or from 

the bright sun. 

(Apuleius, The Golden Ass, Book II; trans. E. J. Kenney)

When one considers how few have survived, we should probably count ourselves lucky that we have so much to choose from in the modern era.

Now we come to the final item in our short study of literature in ancient Rome: Satire.

Satire was a separate literary genre, for it could be done using various forms of literature such as dialogues, verse and prose.

In ancient Rome, satire was a personal commentary in the form of good humour or highly abusive invective. This was more popular during the Republican era, rather than the Empire for, it seems, the emperors had little sense of humour when it came to their reputations.

One of the earliest Roman satirists was Quintus Ennius who wrote satires in verse, but whose works sadly only exist in fragments now.

However, the most popular satirist in ancient Rome was Gaius Lucilius, an equestrian class author who was part of the Scipios’ inner circle during the Republican era. Sadly, very few of his works survive, and those that do are only fragmentary. 

Horace (by Giacomo Di Chirico)

In researching and writing this short piece, I can’t help but be saddened by how much literature from ancient Rome has been lost to us. Yes, we have many surviving examples, but over and over I read about the work of various authors surviving only in fragments or being completely lost to us.

Did their work burn with the library of Alexandria? Were there so few copies? Was much of it memorized for performance?

The list of questions that are likely to be left unanswered is too much to contemplate.

Rather, I suppose we Romanophiles should be grateful for the works that do survive. We should study them, and try to understand them. We should enjoy them as they were meant to be enjoyed.

These surviving works of literature from a past age continue to inform us and give us a window into the people and places of the world of ancient Rome.

Thank you for reading.

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New! – Consulting and Author Coaching from Eagles and Dragons Publishing

Greetings Authors and Publishers!

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Ancient Everyday: Janus – The Faces of a Roman God

Salvete Readers and History-lovers!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Ovid, Metamorphoses, XIV:320-396)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there are even more aspects to Janus.

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

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

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

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

Definitely a god you want to have on your side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Plutarch, The Life of King Numa, XX)

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

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

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

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

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

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The World of The Stolen Throne- Part V – Annwn: The Celtic Otherworld

Salvete, readers and history-lovers!

Welcome to the fifth and final part in this blog series on The World of The Stolen Throne.

I hope you have enjoyed these posts about the research, history and myth that inspired the creation of this latest Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy novel. If you missed last week’s post about Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, you can check it out HERE.

As with all other books in the Eagles and Dragons series, The Stolen Throne has elements from ancient Greek and Roman religion and mythology. However, this book also delves into Celtic myth and legend which makes for an interesting addition to the series.

In Part V of The World of The Stolen Throne, we’re going to be taking a brief look at the realm of Annwn, the sort of place it was, and some of the more prominent traditions around it.

If you’ve already read The Stolen Throne, you will know that Annwn plays a large role in the story, but what exactly was this mysterious place that plays such a central and awe-inspiring role in Celtic tradition?

Let’s step into this otherworld to find out…

Elysium, or Aeneas Finding His Father at the Elysian Fields (Sebastiaen Vrancx, between 1597 and 1607)

In ancient Celtic mythology and religion, especially Welsh traditions, Annwn (pronounced ‘Ann-win’) is the Otherworld. Annwn is the faery world, a place similar to Elysium in ancient Greek and Roman traditions, or Paradise in Christianity. It is often a place of peace and plenty, there is no death, disease or hunger. It is a land of eternal youth.

In some traditions however, it can be a place of conflict, or a prison to outsiders. It is a land of mystery where all is not as it seems.

Arawn, Lord of Annwn, with his otherworldly hounds

There are two prominent lords of Annwn in ancient traditions: Arawn, and Gwyn ap Nudd.

And he [Pwyll] beheld a glade in the wood forming a level plain, and as his dogs came to the edge of the glade, he saw a stag before the other dogs. And lo, as it reached the middle of the glade, the dogs that followed the stag overtook it and brought it down. Then looked he at the colour of the dogs, staying not to look at the stag, and of all the hounds that he had seen in the world, he had never seen any that were like unto these. For their hair was of brilliant shining white, and their ears were red; and as the whiteness of their bodies shone, so did the redness of their ears glisten. And he came toward the dogs, and drove away those that had brought down the stag, and set his own dogs upon it.

And while he was setting on his dogs, he saw a horseman coming towards him upon a large light-grey steed, with a hunting horn round his neck, and glad in garments of grey woollen in the fashion of a hunting garb. And the horseman drew near and spoke unto him… ‘A crowned King am I in the land whence I come’… ‘Arawn, a King of Annwn am I’…

(Pwyll Lord of Dyfed, The Mabinogion; trans. Lady Charlotte Guest)

Arawn, Lord of Annwn, appears in the first branch of the Welsh Mabinogi, Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed.

Of the four branches, Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed is my absolute favourite. I have never tired of reading it since I first studied it in university. Not only is it full of magic, love, battles, monsters, and tales of honour and betrayal, but it’s also a perfect illustration of Celtic archetypes (you can read more about Celtic literary archetypes HERE.) Here is the story in brief:

Pwyll, a mortal man, is a lord of Dyfed who comes into contact with Arawn, a lord of Annwn, the Celtic Otherworld. The two become friends and switch places for a year so that Pwyll can help Arawn defeat a foe in his own world. Pwyll succeeds and becomes ‘Head of Annwn’. While he is away, Arawn rules justly and fairly in his place, and Pwyll’s subjects ask him to continue the good rule upon his return, which he does.

One of the purposes of the Mabinogi tales was to serve as teaching texts for Welsh princes, and the tale of Pwyll is a good example, for Arawn is an ideal lord whose actions instruct Pwyll in ideal rule.

Artist impression of Gwynn ap Nudd at the hunt

As Lord of Annwn, Gwyn ap Nudd, is different from Arawn. He is a darker figure in Celtic myth and legend who appears later in Arthurian traditions. He is the Faery King and Lord of Annwn. He is an Underworld god. However, he does not always remain in Annwn.

The time of year during which The Stolen Throne takes place is Samhain, the ancient Celtic new year, and what we know today as ‘Halloween’. Some of the ancient traditions around Samhain – a very sacred time of year – was the burning of bonfires to keep evil spirits at bay, the harvesting of hazelnuts and of apples, both fruits of the Otherworld. One fascinating tradition was apparently to peel apples and toss the peels over the shoulder or into a fire as offerings.

Samhain was a time when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest, and where strange things happened at borders or thresholds, those in-between places of the world. Fairies were believed to be abroad, taking captives before going to their winter barrows with them.

The Wild Hunt (1872) by Peter Nicolai Arbo

Gwyn ap Nudd was also believed to be abroad at Samhain as the doors of Annwn opened and he led the Wild Hunt across the land, terrifying the living with the sound of otherworldly hunting horns and the baying of his hounds.

There were several gates to Annwn, one of them being Glastonbury Tor, which we have looked at in a previous blog series. Forests also served as liminal spaces where one could go from the mortal to the immortal realm. However, it was not only the souls of the dead, or magical beings who could pass through these gates.

In the ancient traditions, though Annwn was the Otherworld or faery realm, it was possible for mortals to travel there in certain circumstances, and then return to the mortal world again, if they were lucky. The tale of Pwyll is the obvious example, but there are others.

The Book of Taliesin (Wikimedia Commons)

In Arthurian romance, there is a tradition of the wicked Melwas imprisoning Guinevere on Glastonbury Tor. Arthur rides to the rescue, attacks Melwas and saves Guinevere. This particular story mirrors an episode in Culhwch and Olwen, one part of the Welsh Mabinogi, in which Gwythyr ap Greidawl attempts to save Creiddylad, daughter of Lludd, whom he is supposed to marry, from Gwyn ap Nudd himself. 

Glastonbury Tor – Gateway to Annwn

Another even more fascinating Arthurian connection can be found in a pre-Christian version of the ‘Quest of the Holy Grail’, called the ‘Spoils of Annwn’ which was found in the ‘Book of Taliesin’. In this tale, Arthur and his companions enter Annwn to bring back a magical cauldron of plenty. 

… And before the door of hell

lamps burned.

And when we went with Arthur,

brilliant difficulty,

except seven

none rose up

from the Fortress of Mead-Drunkenness…

… Beyond the Glass Fortress they did

not see

the valour of Arthur.

Six thousand men

stood upon the wall.

It was difficult

to speak

with their sentinel.

Three fulness of Prydwen [Arthur’s ship]

went with Arthur.

Except seven

none rose up

from the Fortress of Guts…

(excerpt from The Spoils of Annwn, the Book of Taliesin; trans. Sarah Higley)

This is a fascinating and mysterious poem (you can read the full translation HERE). The debated location of the castle Arthur and his men lay siege to aside, we see here again that a voyage into Annwn is not one of peace or plenty, but of strife. There is a war between the worlds, no doubt encouraged by later Christian writers of Arthurian romance.

The Cauldron (E. Wallcousins, 1912)

There is an ancient tradition of heroes making a journey to the Otherworld or Underworld. It wasn’t just Herakles and Odysseus who did so. Pwyll and Arthur too journeyed there, and others. The tradition of mortals crossing into another realm for some feat of strength or adventure, or even a painful experience, is longstanding.

It is also supremely fascinating to write about.

Herakles captures Cerberus in the Underworld, wtih Hermes guiding him

And what of Lucius Metellus Anguis, the Roman who journeys into the mysterious land of Dumnonia in The Stolen Throne? What experiences await him in that place beyond the Romanized world? What happens when he comes face-to-face with the Lord of Annwn?

When Lucius sets off to help his friend regain his throne, he is, unlike other heroes, unaware of what awaits him. It is another stage of his own ‘hero’s journey’ that will change him forever.

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for free by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this blog series on The World of The Stolen Throne. If you missed any posts, or if you would like to read them all in one place, you can find the entire blog series HERE.

Thank you for accompanying us on this adventure and, as ever, thank you for reading.

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The World of The Stolen Throne- Part IV – Seaside Fortress: The Mystery of Tintagel Castle

Welcome back to The World of The Stolen Throne.

In Part III, we looked the Arthurian sites on Bodmin Moor that inspired part of The Stolen Throne. If you missed it, you can read that HERE.

In Part IV, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the major settings in The Stolen Throne. It is a place that is firmly entrenched in Arthurian myth and legend, but also in the history of Dumnonia itself. Let us visit the dramatic site of Tintagel Castle.

Aerial view of Tintagel Castle (photo: English Heritage)

And as he [Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall] was under more concern for his wife than himself, he put her into the town of Tintagel, upon the sea-shore, which he looked upon as a place of great safety… The king [Uther Pendragon], informed of this, went to the town where Gorlois was, which he besieged, and shut up all the avenues to it. A whole week was now past, when, retaining in mind his love to Igerna, he said to one of his confidants, named Ulfin de Ricaradoch: “My passion for Igerna is such that I can neither have ease of mind, nor health of body, till I obtain her: and if you cannot assist me with your advice how to accomplish my desire, the inward torments I endure will kill me.”—”Who can advise you in this matter,” said Ulfin, “when no force will enable us to have access to her in the town of Tintagel? For it is situated upon the sea, and on every side surrounded by it; and there is but one entrance into it, and that through a straight rock, which three men shall be able to defend against the whole power of the kingdom. Notwithstanding, if the prophet Merlin would in earnest set about this attempt, I am of opinion, you might with his advice obtain your wishes.”

(Historia Regum Britanniae, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Book 8, 19)

The words above are what set Tintagel Castle firmly on the map of Arthurian myth and legend, associating it the birth of the figure we have come to know as King Arthur.

If you have read the stories, or seen movies such as Excalibur, you will be familiar with this setting.

But what exactly was Tintagel Castle?

In The Stolen Throne, the latest novel in the Eagles and Dragons series, which takes place during the third century A.D., it is the ancestral seat of one of the main characters, a prince of Dumnonia. But was it in use at this time? What is the evolution of this mysterious place?

In this post, we’re going to look at Tintagel Castle itself, some of the remains and finds, and how archaeology has brought to light new and exciting theories about this fascinating place of myth and legend.

Modern footbridge from mainland castle court to Tintagel Rock (photo: CNN)

The name of Tintagel actually comes from the Celtic name ‘Din Tagell’, which means ‘Fortress of the Narrow Entrance’. Most believe that this refers to the mainland approach which was by way of a narrowed, defensible passage at first between embankments, and later through the medieval gatehouse.

Tintagel is located on the north coast of Cornwall in one of the most dramatic settings around. From the narrow part of the mainland that forms the approach, one had to cross a bridge high above a rocky chasm to reach the castle rock itself, which juts out into the sea. The castle sits 250 feet above the rough water.

This place was meant to be impenetrable, if not practical.

Site plan of Tintagel Castle (English Heritage)

Most of what is visible today, including the romantic ruins of the inner courtyard and great hall were built by Richard, Early of Cornwall after 1233. It has been suggested that as Tintagel was such a weatherbeaten and impractical place to build and live, Earl Richard may have done so only to maintain a connection with the prestige of its Arthurian past which was firmly believed at that time, a hundred years after Geoffrey of Monmouth’s medieval bestseller put Tintagel on the map.

The impressive medieval ruins include the mainland gatehouse and courtyard, the island courtyard and great hall, as well as a chapel, tunnel and walled garden on the summit of the plateau.

They are some of the most romantic ruins in Britain.

Romantic ruins of Tintagel’s Medieval castle

Despite the fact that Tintagel castle was a difficult place to build, with the slate foundations of the rock being constantly eroded by the lashing sea, it seems to have played an important part in Dumnonia’s history.

Before we get to the Arthurian connection, let’s discuss what might have been happening at Tintagel during the Roman period.

In The Stolen Throne, I had to take some poetic license when it came to the structures that were located on the castle rock. However, there was, it seems, activity at Tintagel during the Iron Age and years of the Roman occupation of Britain.

Tintagel, during the Roman period, was a small settlement on the very edge of the Roman Empire. It has been suggested that it may be the place known as ‘Durocornovium’, a place mentioned on a list of Roman roads (though a location near Swindon seems more likely).

Tintagel’s Castle rock visible from the opposite cliffs on landward side

Nevertheless, archaeologists believe that during the 3rd century A.D. a small village or settlement may have been established on the mainland facing the castle rock, around the area of the narrow approach to the island.

Tintagel was part of Dumnonia and seems to have received little attention from the Roman authorities based at Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter). That is, until it was discovered that the land in Dumnonia was rich in tin, and mining operations began.

There was no Roman settlement at Tintagel, but a Roman road did pass nearby, presumably giving access to the mines and few forts located in that part of Britain. Further proof of the roads is available in the form of two Roman milestones to either side of Tintagel, on the mainland.

Roman stone in Tintagel’s Parish Church (Wikimedia Commons)

No Roman buildings have been found at Tintagel castle as yet, but it should be noted that only about 5% of the castle area has been excavated. Who knows what remains lie beneath the grass and soil of that windswept rock jutting out into the sea?

Despite the lack of buildings, some of the most exciting Roman finds to come out of the ground at Tintagel are a purse containing Roman coins and, more importantly, a huge quantity of Romano-British and Mediterranean pottery.

Stone disks used to seal amphorae, and ceramic sherds from Greek amphorae used for transporting wine and olive oil, found at Tintagel (photo from archaeology.org)

The amount of Mediterranean pottery discovered at Tintagel from the 3rd century to the Dark Ages is said to be a greater quantity than the total amount that has been discovered from all other Dark Age sites in Britain put together. It is believed that this points firmly to habitation at Tintagel castle in the third and fourth centuries A.D.

The presence of such prestige goods at Tintagel means not only that it was an important place for the rulers of Dumnonia, but also that it was an important place for trade on the sea routes from the continent to the western isles and northwest Britain.

View of Tintagel beach, the ‘Haven’, Merlin’s cave, the causeway and part of the castle

The sandy beach below Tintagel castle, known as ‘the Haven’, made it possible for ships to unload safely, but this was not the only place they could unload.

Farther away from the shore, clinging to the rocky sides of the island, the remains of a defended wharf have been discovered. This is known as the ‘Iron Gate’, and up the slope from this are the remains of Dark Age houses where huge amounts of broken pottery have been discovered, as well as Roman glass.

One cannot, however, speak of Tintagel castle and not think of the Arthurian legend. This is why most people visit Tintagel. As the supposed birthplace of King Arthur, as told by Geoffrey of Monmouth, it has an inescapable draw.

But what was here during the Dark Ages, that period between the departure of the Romans from Britain and the invasion of the Saxons.

Several Dark Age ruins have been discovered in excavations over the years on Tintagel rock, including the houses near the defended wharf, and a cluster of buildings on the northern end of the plateau overlooking the sea. However, as only 5% of Tintagel has been excavated, who knows what else remains to be found.

The summit plateau of Tintagel Castle

There is another problem however…

Erosion.

Over the centuries, Tintagel rock has been deteriorating due to weathering, and it is believed that some of the ruins from various periods of its habitation, including the Dark Ages, have fallen into the sea to be lost forever.

From what has been found and studied, however, what might the possible uses been? What was happening at Tintagel castle?

An early theory put forward by Dr. Ralegh Radford, who excavated the site in the 1930s, was that Tintagel was an early monastic settlement, perhaps established by St. Julian or St. Juliot one of the sons of the Dark Age Welsh king, Brychan, in the 5th century.

However, more recently, new theories have dismissed Radford’s monastic theory in favour of one that says Tintagel castle was the settlement of Dumnonia’s elite, the home of a king or ruler of some sort, as well as his entourage and war-band.

Artist impression of Dark Age Tintagel Castle (English Heritage)

This is supported by the pottery finds dating to the period and coming from places like North Africa and Greece which were still a part of the Roman Empire at that time. These luxury items – mainly wine, olives and olive oil – meant that a person of wealth with connections to Rome may have lived at Tintagel. Even if much of the rest of Britain had lost contact with the former Empire during the Dark Ages, Tintagel castle seems to have maintained ties.

With the discovery in 2016 of several Dark Age houses containing Mediterranean pottery and glass, and the finding in 2017 of a slate window ledge with Latin, Greek and Celtic writing, which dated to the 7th century A.D., it seems that Tintagel castle remained a busy and important place.

The ‘Artognou’ slate found at Tintagel Castle

In 1998 however, one of the most tantalizing artifacts to be found at Tintagel was a piece of slate with the name of ‘Artognou’ written upon it. As ever, the story of Tintagel castle comes back to its connection with Arthur.

And why not? Arthur is a powerful draw, a hero at the heart of Britain’s mythology and history.

Adam exploring the ruins of Tintagel Castle on a windswept day in February

As someone who has always loved tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and who has focussed on Arthurian studies for most of his academic career, the Arthurian connection is what brought me to Tintagel in the first place as well.

For years, I had been dreaming of visiting this dramatic location where Merlin was supposed to have helped Uther Pendragon reach Igraine and conceive the once and future king of Britain.

When the opportunity to visit finally came, I jumped at the chance.

What was it like to finally arrive at Tintagel castle?

It was magical.

Postern gate approach to Tintagel Castle from cliffside

While living in Somerset, I decided to take a trip to Cornwall – a sort of Arthurian pilgrimage – during a rainy February. The landscape was no less dramatic than I had imagined, and there were very few tourists around.

In our car, we headed west from Exeter, skirting the northern edge of Dartmoor in the direction of Bodmin, the same as my Roman protagonist in the story.

Even then, the seeds of The Stolen Throne were bound to take subconscious root.

Driving through the landscape really was like driving through another world, especially when it came to Bodmin moor. We arrived at the village of Tintagel, checked into our B&B and went out straight away to find our destination.

The village of Tintagel on the mainland, with King Arthur’s Great Halls on the right.

It was strange walking there from the village, anticipatory and dreamy with the misty rain falling all around us. To our right, the lonely silhouette of the Camelot Castle Hotel stood silent sentry on the approach, at that time seemingly deserted.

There were very few people or cars around as we walked along Castle Road, the sound of the sea becoming more audible and then, there it was – Tintagel’s castle rock.

Interior ruins of Tintagel Castle

I had waited so long to see that place, I simply stood there staring at its beauty, its mythological wildness. What a setting! At that time, Lucius Metellus Anguis (my protagonist) was still in Africa and Rome (I had only written Children of Apollo at that point) but I knew that he would, someday, make his way there.

As we approached the castle, we decided to go down to the Haven first, led there by Castle Road and the Southwest Coastal footpath. From the beach we looked up at Tintagel Castle in awe. To attack the place would be sheer madness, but to live there perhaps more so.

Merlin’s Cave and the ‘Haven’ below Tintagel Castle

The sea was not calm, nor was it violent, but as we walked across the beach the gaping maw of Merlin’s Cave opened before us and the myths came alive at once.

I stood on that beach remembering the image I had seen of Merlin standing upon that beach with the baby Arthur at his feet.

Merlin finds Arthur (by Gustave Dore)

Now, I do believe there was a historical ‘Arthur’, but I also know that the history has been mythologized perhaps more than any other tale in western literature. However, as I stood there upon the beach, Merlin’s Cave before me, and the ruins of Tintagel Castle looming above my head, the line between history and legend definitely began to blur.

It was a magnificent feeling.

Sometimes, we need to let go of our thinking, to step out of the academic realm in order to feel, and in doing so, we experience history more fully, for tales were as much a part of our ancestors’ beliefs as fact, if not more so. They were facts!

Why did Earl Richard build the medieval castle in such an inconvenient place? Perhaps he too wanted to be a part of the myth and history that clung to the cliffs of Tintagel, to be close to Arthur and Merlin, to Mark, Tristan and Isolde…

Ruins of the medieval chapel at Tintagel Castle

The tide started come in and we were caught off guard by the water on the beach. Making a quick escape, we retreated from the Haven and began making our way up to the narrow entrance that gives Tintagel its name, to cross the bridge that soars over the chasm below.

We lingered in Tintagel’s most recognizable ruins for a time, the area of the medieval court and hall before carrying on along the path that wound its way up to the summit plateau, passing the remains of the Dark Age houses on the eastern slope above the Iron Gate’s wharf.

Outline of cliffside structures or houses dating to the Dark Ages on Tintagel rock

Once we reached the top, we were met with a broad, windswept expanse of green beneath an iron grey sky. We wandered around the northern ruins, remnants of the Dark Ages, and then took in the medieval chapel, garden, and tunnel.

But, at Tintagel, for me, it is the setting that is king, the story behind it all. As I stood in the middle of the plateau with my wife, taking in the site, the symphony of sound that was performed by the waves, wind and crying gulls, I let the place seep into me.

I’ve had few experiences like that, though I have been to many places.

In my mind, and in my writing in some way, shape or form, I’ve been back to Tintagel Castle many times since that moment when I stood in the middle of the summit plateau, near the spot where ancient kings of Dumnonia were crowned.

Remains of the medieval walled garden on Tintagel Castle

I felt something of what it was like to complete a pilgrimage. And that is what it was to me. History, myth and legend are, in a way, my own private religion.

Leaving the castle rock of Tintagel behind as we walked back to the village to immerse ourselves in the Arthuriana of King Arthur’s Great Halls, I didn’t feel the usual bittersweetness of leaving a place behind.

As we walked, I turned to look back one more time at Tintagel Castle and felt…well…complete.

Would that we could all feel so complete on our journey through the dark wood of this life.

Tintagel on the Cornish Coast (by William Trost Richards, 1879)

When it came time to write The Stolen Throne, my time at Tintagel flowed into the story as if I had visited only yesterday. I could not have imagined any other setting for that part of the Eagles and Dragons series.

Will my Roman protagonist ever return there? That remains to be seen, but in the annals of my mind, I shall return there often.

Thank you for reading.

For more information on Tintagel Castle, visit this website set up by English Heritage: https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/tintagel-castle/history-and-legend/ 

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

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The World of The Stolen Throne – Part III – An Ancient Landscape: Arthurian Sites on Bodmin Moor

Welcome back to The World of The Stolen Throne.

Last week, in Part II, we looked at the Roman presence in Cornwall and the few remains that have been discovered. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part III, we are going to leave the world of Rome behind to explore the more mysterious past of ancient Cornwall – the Arthurian past.

The Stolen Throne, in a way, is a book of three worlds. It explores two of my own passions as an author and historian: Roman history, and Arthurian studies.

In fact, the novel and its setting was greatly influenced by Arthurian sites in Cornwall, as well as by Celtic mythology.

In this short post, we’ll be taking a brief look at some of the Arthurian sites in Cornwall that inspired some of the settings in this latest Eagles and Dragons novel.

Map from Arthurian Sites in the West (C. A. R. Radford and M. J. Swanton, University of Exeter Press, 1975)

My own love of Arthurian studies has been with me from the beginning. It captured my imagination as a child in the form of stories, and was the focus of my academic studies in later years.

Just as the land of Dumnonia (Cornwall) is a sort of liminal space in The Stolen Throne, the Dark Ages, or Arthurian period is, to me, a liminal space and time between the Classical and Medieval eras.

Some years ago, before moving back to Canada from Britain, I had the opportunity one rainy February to tour Cornwall for the first time. This was more than just a nice trip for me, it was a pilgrimage of sorts. I had dreamt of visiting several Arthurian sites in Cornwall for years, and when the chance came to do so, I jumped at it.

Roughtor, Bodmin Moor aerial view (photo: webbaviation.co.uk)

It was wintry and crisp when we left Somerset and drove through Devon that February, skirting the northern edge of Dartmoor and heading deeper into Dumnonia, just as the protagonists in The Stolen Throne did, leaving the world of Rome and Isca Dumnoniorum behind.

Cornwall was different, mild and misty. Rain began to fall and did not stop, and the landscape was like no other I had seen before.

The land cast a spell over me.

Cornwall is covered in ‘Arthurian’ sites, including early monastic settlements, memorial stones, earthworks and more, but the sites I wanted to visit most were concentrated on that wondrous landscape of Bodmin Moor, a place of grassland and downs where the horizon is pierced by rocky tors, formations that make it a world unto itself.

Rock formations on Stowe’s Hill – Granite tors on Bodmin Moor (photo: Gareth James)

Arthur is a part of the landscape here, of its historical and mythological DNA, with places named Arthur’s Chair, and Arthur’s Oven, or Arthur’s Bed. For an Arthurian enthusiast, Cornwall is one vast adventure or hunt upon the windswept moors.

One of the first places we sought was none other than Dozmary Pool.

Approach to Dozmary Pool

Dozmary Pool is one of the places in Arthurian tradition that is associated with Excalibur.

It is a tarn (a mountain lake) 900 feet above sea level, in the middle of Bodmin moor. Where it sits, surrounded by open grassland and hills, Dozary Pool is, perhaps, one of the most mysterious places I have ever been too.

No doubt that is due to the tales it has been cloaked in over the centuries. Local lore, for a long time, said that the pool was bottomless, until it dried up in 1859, but the place continued to be a place of mystery.

And you can feel it.

To the ancient Celts, pools were often sacred, the water spirits who watched over them to be respected, and feared. Offerings, sometimes in the form of weapons, were made at such pools.

There was one such offering that I had in mind as I parked my car and took the footpath to the shore of Dozmary Pool…

In Arthurian legend, at the end of the cycle, after the bloody battle of Camlann where Arthur receives his fatal wound, Sir Bedivere, at Arthur’s bidding, takes the sword Excalibur and throws it (after two attempts) into a body of water to return it to the Lady of the Lake.

In the ancient land of Dumnonia, Dozmary Pool is that lake.

Whether the story is true or not, as I approached the calm water of Dozmary Pool, I felt the spell of myth and legend grab hold of me in a way that I had never before experienced. I stood there, playing the scene over and over again in my head, of a battle-worn warrior standing at the edge of the water with his fallen king’s sword in his hand, gathering the courage to offer up Excalibur to the dark depths before him.

Sir Bedivere returns Excalibur to the lake (Andrew Lang, 1908)

Even as the rain beat down on me, I felt a sense of calm in that place as my eyes scanned the rippling surface and the line of the shore with the hills rising in the distance.

It was a lonely and beautiful place.

After some time, I turned to pull myself away, to carry on with my journey, and was met by a curious monster-of-a-horse (perhaps a shire or sport horse?) towering over me, seeming to stare down at me wondering what I was up to. I looked up at him, and reached to touch his neck. He leaned into me as I took one last look at the sacred pool spread out before us.

Dozmary Pool on Bodmin Moor, Cornwall

It was not easy to leave Dozmary Pool or my new friend behind, but there were other places to visit on my Arthurian pilgrimage. I walked back up the footpath where rain cascaded down and around me toward the pool. I turned again, one more time, to glimpse the water before getting in the car and driving away.

The next destination we sought could only be reached by a circuitous, 19 mile route across Bodmin, but it was one that I had longed to see for years.

It wasn’t a place where any great scene from Arthurian legend had taken place, such as at Dozmary Pool. However, from the images I had seen over the years, the setting called to me, as did the name of Arthur’s Hunting Lodge.

Arthur’s Hunting Lodge with remains of stone wall slabs visible

Also known as Arthur’s Hall, Arthur’s Hunting Lodge is a stone enclosure on Bodmin Moor near to Mount Pleasant, Garrow Tor, and Hawks Tor.

To visit this site, you need to park the car near St. Breward and take a foot path across the moor for a short distance.

The walk is magnificent.

This section of Bodmin Moor is crossed by an ancient highway dotted with markers in the form of short standing stones. As you walk, across it, there is a sort of thrumming in the air, just beneath the sound of the wind. It feels like history is speaking to you.

Standing stone on ancient trackway across Bodmin Moor

The setting for Arthur’s Hunting Lodge is magical, and the site itself fascinating.

Set in the middle of the moor, this rectangular structure has walls that are formed by great slabs of granite jutting out of the grass and moss-covered earth. It is 60 feet long and about 35 feet wide. The floor of the ‘lodge’ is also lined with granite slabs.

It is believed to have prehistoric origins, but was used over the centuries as a shelter or as a water reservoir upon the moor.

There are many similar sites associated with Arthur across Britain. Some may have links to the historical Arthur, and many may be the stuff of legend.

However, standing among the ruins of this ancient site, I could see how this ancient association with Britain’s greatest hero, in a land long-tied to him, could grab hold of the imagination.

Adam exploring Arthur’s ‘Hunting Lodge’ on Bodmin Moor

As the wind sang all around me in that isolated place, I could begin to see Arthur and his men resting here while hunting deer on the surrounding moorlands.

It is a place where one can leave the cares of the world behind.

And I can understand that…

How many times have you visited an ancient site and wished you could remain there in calm, comfortable silence with the past?

Arthur’s Hunting Lodge, for me, was such a place.

But as I stood beside the leaning stone slabs of the walls of the lodge, and looked to the rise in the land to the north called Arthur’s Downs, I knew I could not stay.

What I did not know is that one of the most poignant scenes in The Stolen Throne would later be set in that place.

Arthur’s Hunting Lodge on Bodmin Moor

The fight began and immense slaughter was done on both sides. The loses were greater in Mordred’s army and they forced him to fly once more in shame from the battlefield. He made no arrangements whatsoever for the burial of his dead, but fled as fast as ship could carry him, and made his way towards Cornwall.

Arthur was filled with great mental anguish by the fact that Mordred had escaped him so often. Without losing a moment, he followed him to that same locality, reaching the River Camblan, where Mordred was awaiting his arrival…

It is heartrending to describe what slaughter was inflicted on both sides, how the dying groaned, and how great was the fury of those attacking. Everywhere men were receiving wounds themselves or inflicting them, dying or dealing out death…

They [Arthur’s forces] hacked a way through with their swords and Arthur continued to advance, inflicting terrible slaughter as he went. It was at this point that the accursed traitor [Mordred] was killed and many thousands of his men with him…

Arthur himself, our renowned King, was mortally w0unded and was carried off to the Isle of Avalon, so that his wounds might be attended to. (Geoffrey of Monmouth, History of the Kings of Britain, xi,2)

Like many ancient myths and legends, the end of the Arthurian cycle is one of tragedy.

No matter how many times I read stories about Arthur and his knights, even though I know how it ends, I always hope that things will go differently, that Arthur will win out against the odds, that might will truly remain on the site of right.

But the story is a tragedy, and that is why a part of me approached the next site on our itinerary with some trepidation.

Ten miles to the north of Arthur’s Hunting Lodge lies Slaughterbridge, one of the possible sites of the Battle of Camlann, Arthur’s last battle.

Field at Slaughterbridge, possible site of the Battle of Camlann, with Bodmin Moor beyond

It is difficult to explain to someone how a story linked to a place for so long can affect you so deeply, even though the connection may be disputed.

However, when I say that I felt a great sadness approaching the field of Camlann at Slaughterbridge, know that I am serious.

Slaughterbridge and the battlefield of Camlann are located at a crossing over the river Camel, near the village of Camelford.

After passing through the small Arthurian centre that is on site, you come onto a broad meadow that is thought to be the site of the early sixth century battle of Camlann. As I was there in February, no one else was present, and so I could roam about that dread place at my leisure, allowing it to sink into me.

The River Camel where it runs through Slaughterbridge

When John Leland, the Tudor antiquarian, visited here in the sixteenth century, he was told by locals that pieces of armour, rings, and brass horse harness were often found around the site.

Archaeologists in more recent years have found no such things, but there is one artifact at Slaughterbridge that ties the site to the Arthurian period.

As you walk down the slope of the hill toward the trees, you come to the river Camel where it is hidden at the bottom of a small valley.

The screams of the dead and dying men at Camlann, where the water is supposed to have turned red with their blood, have been replaced by an eerie silence. However, when you stand upon the wooden platform looking down on the gurgling river below, you can see the nine foot long ‘Arthur Stone’, a commemoration of the Battle of Camlann.

The River Camel at Slaughterbridge with the ‘King Arthur Stone’ at the bottom left

This is an interesting artifact for upon it is a Latin inscription commemorating one Latinus, son of Magarus.

The stone is not in situ, but was moved here from nearby, long ago. At one point, a confused translation led others to believe that the inscription was dedicated to ‘Atry’, or ‘Arthur’.

Though the inscription may cause confusion, the stone does indeed date to the approximate time of the Battle of Camlann, circa A.D. 537.

The Battle between Arthur and Mordred (by William Hatherell)

As I made my way across the deep green meadow of Camlann toward the dark trees that shielded the river from the world, I could see and hear the grisly sounds of Arthur’s last battle. The cries of dying men and horses filled my mind, perhaps as it did for Geoffrey of Monmouth, John Leland, Richard Carew, and later Alfred Tennyson, when they too came to that battlefield in their own times.

Did Arthur and Mordred fight their final battle here at Slaughterbridge? Was this the site of that fateful Battle of Camlann?

We will never know for certain, but for so long this place has been linked to Arthur’s end, has formed the setting for that end, that you cannot help but feel a great sadness standing there, looking down at the flowing water beneath the dark trees, and staring at the sad memorial stone of a long-dead warrior.

The Death of King Arthur (John Garrick, 1862)

Like the other sites I had visited on my Arthurian pilgrimage in Cornwall, this place too would play a role in The Stolen Throne. The water of the river Camel is that liminal space where Lucius Metellus Anguis finds himself taken, a place where everything changes…

In a way, I am still haunted by my visit to Slaughterbridge.

As I left the battlefield behind, I knew I had had my fill of that bleeding piece of earth, the trees, and the water that had once run in crimson rivulets.

I turned toward the last of my destinations on that journey, the place where Arthur was supposed to have come into the world at the beginning of his life… I turned with hope toward Tintagel Castle.

Stay tuned for Part IV in The World of the Stolen Throne when we will look at the history, archaeology and legend of one of the main settings in The Stolen Throne – Tintagel Castle.

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

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The World of The Stolen Throne- Part II – The Romans in Cornwall

Salvete, readers and history-lovers!

Welcome back to The World of The Stolen Throne!

Last week, in part one, we looked at Roman Exeter, and the evolution of that settlement from military camp to thriving civitas of Roman Britain. If you missed it, you can read that HERE.

This week, in part two, we’re taking a brief look at the Roman presence and remains in Cornwall, what was the ancient land of Dumnonia.

The ancient land of Dumnonia

Most of The Stolen Throne takes place in Cornwall, during the early third century A.D. However, was there such a thing as a ‘Roman Cornwall’? Did the Romans have a presence there at all?

Here is what is believed to be the first Roman reference to Cornwall:

The inhabitants of Britain who dwell about the promontory known as Belerium [modern Cornwall] are especially hospitable to strangers and have adopted a civilized manner of life because of their intercourse with merchants of other peoples. They it is who work the tin, treating the bed which bears it in an ingenious manner. This bed, being like rock, contains earthy seams and in them the workers quarry the ore, which they then melt down and cleanse of its impurities. Then they work the tin into pieces the size of knuckle-bones and convey it to an island which lies off Britain and is called Ictis [St. Michael’s Mount]: for at the time of ebb-tide the space between this island and the mainland becomes dry and they can take the tin in large quantities over to the island on their wagons. (Diodorus Siculus; Library of History, Book V, 22)

Diodorus Siculus (90 B.C. – A.D. 30) is the first Roman source to mention what was Dumnonia, or what we know today as Cornwall, and the picture he paints is not of a rebellious, warlike land, but one of hard-working, hospitable people who were no strangers to trade.

A Roman cargo ship, or ‘corbita’ (image: naval-encyclopedia.com)

Cornwall, it seems, was different to other parts of Britannia. This was the primary territory of the Dumnonii, Celtic Britons who also inhabited parts of what are today Somerset and Devon. They had close ties with the Celts of Brittany, and may have served as a refuge for them when Julius Caesar was completing his conquest of Gaul. The Dumnonii are supposed to have also had close ties with their Welsh neighbours.

It seems like the Dumnonii were well-connected with their Celtic cousins to the north and across the Channel, and this may have been because it Cornwall was an important stop on the trade route between Gaul and western Britannia. But when it comes to contact with the Romans, the interaction may have been minimal.

In fact, for a long time, it was believed that the Romans stopped at the border of Devon and went no further than Isca Dumnoniorum, or modern Exeter.

Cornwall was, perhaps, just too remote for heavy Roman colonization, unlike other parts of Britannia.

Professor Barry Cunliffe believed that Devon and Cornwall had lacked Romanization because the evidence indicated that the native Briton socio-economic system carried on in use to the west of Isca Dumnoniorum unlike other places.

Over the years, however, archaeology has revealed something of a Roman presence in Cornwall.

Map of Roman-era Cornwall (Ordance Survey map of Roman Britain). Pink marks indicate Roman sites.

In addition to some short stretches of Roman road that have been discovered, archaeologists and historians have identified three Roman forts at Tregear, near Nanstallon, Lostwithiel, at Restormel Castle, and a fort that seems to have been big enough to hold a garrison of five hundred men at Calstock.

Aerial view of site of Calstock Roman fort, Cornwall (image: webbaviation.co.uk)

Several Roman milestones have also been found in Cornwall, two of them near Tintagel Castle, one at Mynheer Farm, and two more near St. Michael’s Mount, the place Diodorus Siculus called ‘Ictis’.

One of the milestones at Tintagel is inscribed with the words ‘Imperator Caesar Licinius’ who was emperor from A.D. 308 to 313. Another inscription was found on a milestone from Trethevy referring to the ‘Imperial Caesars Trebonianus Gallus and Volusianus’ the joint father and son emperors from A.D. 251 to 253.

In addition to the finds above, a Roman villa was also discovered at Magor Farm, near Camborne, on the northwest coast of Cornwall.

Roman stone in St Materiana’s Church, Tintagel (Wikimedia Commons)

If there was little or no colonization or Romanization of Dumnonia by the Romans, why were there portions of road with milestones, at least one villa, and three significant forts?

The answer? Resources.

It seems that the Romans were mostly interested in Dumnonia for its resources, mainly tin and iron, and that the presence of troops there was to protect those resources.

But it wasn’t just tin and iron mines (near St. Austell) that they wanted to secure. In fact, the tin mines of Cornwall were being overshadowed by those in Iberia (Spain), much closer to Rome.

A recent discovery this past July, 2019, indicates that the Romans may also have been mining silver at the fort discovered in 2007 at Calstock, the fort that had a garrison of five hundred men.

2019 discovery of Roman mine workings in Cornwall (photo: University of Exeter)

It seems that the Romans had a larger presence in Cornwall than was previously thought, and that is exciting. I look forward to hearing more about future discoveries!

However, in The Stolen Throne, the land of Dumnonia is not a place of prosperous trade that welcomes visitors, as implied by Diodorus Siculus. The Roman forts are deserted, and the land is suffering.

In the story, a Roman officer and a Sarmatian lord follow their friend, a Dumnonian refugee returning to his homeland, to find a world that is not as it seems. And there, the story begins…

I hope you’ve enjoyed this second post in The World of The Stolen Throne. In part three, we’ll be taking a journey to Bodmin Moor, so be sure to tune in for that.

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for free by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Stolen Throne- Part I – Isca Dumnoniorum: A Brief look at Roman Exeter

Salvete, readers and history-lovers!

Welcome to The World of The Stolen Throne!

In this five-part blog series, we’re going to be taking a look at the research that went into the latest Eagles and Dragons novel, The Stolen Throne.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll take you on a journey from the world of early third-century Roman Britain to the lands of Dumnonia. As The Stolen Throne is a more mysterious episode in the Eagles and Dragons series, we will also be looking at relevant parts of Celtic mythology, in addition to some history and archaeology related to the story and setting of this book.

In this first post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the settings in The Stolen Throne. The Roman town of Isca Dumnoniorum serves as a sort of gateway to the unknown in the story, a final vestige of the Roman world before the characters continue on their journey.

Many towns in Roman Britain tend to eclipse Isca Dumnoniorum, but this settlement played an important role in the early stages of Romanization of the island. How was it established and what purpose did it serve?

Let’s find out.

The First Roman Invasion of Britain – illustration by James William Edmund Doyle (1864)

In 55 and 54 B.C. the forces of Julius Caesar attempted to reconnoitre and invade the mysterious and unknown, until then, land of Britain. The second campaign experienced some success, but the full-scale invasion of Britannia did not occur until nearly a hundred years later with the Claudian invasion of the island.

In A.D. 43, Emperor Claudius’ forces landed on the shores of the island, changing the course of history for good this time. Four Roman legions and auxiliaries landed in what is now Kent. The force is said to have consisted of over 45,000 men.

Many battles were fought, and peace treaties were signed with the tribes southern Britain. It was during this time that the future emperor, Vespasian, stormed the southern hill forts of Britain, particularly in the lands of the Durotriges and Dumnonii. The great hillforts of South Cadbury Castle and Maiden Castle were a part of this offensive campaign.

Aerial view of Maiden Castle, Dorset – photo by Major George Allen (1935) Wikimedia Commons

This invasion was just the beginning of what was to be a forty-year campaign to subdue the Britons and bring the island into Rome’s Empire.

One of the legions commanded by Vespasian in his southern sweep was the famous II Augustan legion.

The legion’s first, permanent base, a forty-two acre castrum, was established at Isca Dumnoniorum, or modern Exeter, in around A.D. 55, with smaller forts being established in the surrounding region in the Quantock and Brendon Hills, and the Vale of Taunton Deane.

Isca Dumnoniorum was the largest base in the southwest. It had everything one would expect from a large, legionary base, including barracks, granaries, and workshops, which were made of timber. There was a stone, military bathhouse which was fed by an aqueduct leading from a nearby natural spring. Archaeologists have also discovered a cockfighting pit in the remains of the palaestra (outdoor exercise yard) which was attached to the bathhouse. Seems like the men of the legions enjoyed a bit of sport when off duty!

Artist impression of Isca Dumnoniorum

Like other Roman settlements in Britain, Isca’s beginnings were martial, and not long after it was established, one of the most violent episodes of this period occurred.

In A.D. 60, Queen Boudicca of the Iceni led her revolt against Rome and during that time, settlements across the land such as nearby Lindinis shored up their defences.

According the Tacitus, Poenius Posthumus, camp prefect of the II Augustan, based as Isca during the Boudiccan revolt, refused to support Governor Suetonius Paulinus against the rebels because of a personal argument, or because he did not want to threaten the tenuous peace he held over the Durotriges of Somerset.

Poenius Postumus, camp-prefect of the second legion, informed of the exploits of the men of the fourteenth and twentieth, and conscious that he had cheated his own corps of a share in the honours and had violated the rules of the service by ignoring the orders of his commander, ran his sword through his body. (Tacitus, Annals, XIV, 37)

It was not a proud moment for the II Augustan, after their strong showing in the initial invasion. Nevertheless, the legion based at Isca would go on to form part of the military backbone of Roman Britain for a long time afterward.

Artist impression of the early fortress defences of Isca Dumnoniorum (Exeter City Council Archaeological Field Unit)

When the smoke of the Boudiccan revolt eventually cleared, the Roman peace in southern Britannia could begin to take hold.

One of the ways in which Rome brought their newly-conquered subjects into the fold was through the establishment of civitates, administrative centres based on old tribal regions.

The three civitates of the southwest were Corinium Dobunnorum (capital the Dobunni at Cirencester), Durnovaria (capital of the Durotriges at Dorchester), and Isca Dumnoniorum (capital of the Dumnonii at Exeter). These civitates, and others like them across the land, were an important part of the process of Romanization, as well as citizenship, and the spread of Roman ideals.

Council members

As part of the process, a vicus (civilian settlement) began to form outside of the fortress’ walls where tradesmen and families of the troops lived.

After twenty years based there, the men of the II Augustan legion moved to what would become their permanent base at Caerleon (Isca Silurum), in southern Wales. However, Isca Dumnoniorum remained as an important settlement and centre of administration and trade, especially when it was made an official civitas.

As a civitas, Isca was governed by a council known as an ordo, a sort of small senate. The members of the ordo, the decurions, were responsible for local justice, public shows, religious festivals, public works such as roads, water supply and building, taxation, and the census. Ordo members also represented Isca’s interests in the provincial capital of Londinium.

Roman Roads in Britain with the Fosse Way in Green, running from Isca Dumnoniorum to Lindum (Wikimedia Commons)

Isca Dumnoniorum was well-placed to become a thriving settlement. It was near the mouth of the river Exe where it led to the sea, and it was located at the end of the Fosse Way, one of the earliest and most important roads built by the Romans in the southwest of Britain. This linked the sea routes and Isca to the other fortresses and settlements (such as Lindinis and Bath) across Britannia, all the way to Lindum (modern Lincoln).

When the II Augustan left Isca, it became a civilian settlement with more permanent buildings being built within the wall of the military fortress. New baths were built in the southeast quarter, and the walls were expanded with a bank and wall to accommodate the growing civilian population so that it grew to enclose an area of 92 acres. And as was the pattern and requirement of other civitates, Isca received a proper forum and basilica.

Roman pottery and tile finds from Exeter (Exeter City Council)

Located as it was, in a place that connected the sea to a major land route, Isca Dumnoniorum was a thriving centre of trade where livestock and various crops were bought and sold at the market, as well as locally-produced pottery. Archaeology has also uncovered evidence for a copper and bronze-working industry at Isca.

Numismatic finds from Exeter indicate that Isca Dumnoniorum was at its peak in the early fourth century, but that it experienced a rapid decline around A.D. 380. Still, the Romans remained there for over three hundred years, setting Isca firmly on the map with its own little place in history.

In The Stolen Throne, set during the early third century, Isca Dumnoniorum is a thriving town, bustling with trade, off-duty troops, and citizens going about their daily business. It is also a gateway to a world beyond, to Dumnonia and the moors of what are now Devon and Cornwall, where the Roman presence was very slight, and the Britons still lived as they had done prior to the invasion so many years before.

For our Roman protagonist in the story, there is certainly a feeling of leaving the world behind as he leaves Isca Dumnoniorum to travel over the moors, for he knows he is heading into the unknown.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this short post about Roman Exeter. There are more posts to come in The World of The Stolen Throne blog series, so stay tuned.

The Stolen Throne is now available in e-book and paperback from all major on-line retailers. If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series yet, you can start with the #1 bestselling A Dragon among the Eagles for just 0.99! Or get the first prequel novel, The Dragon: Genesis, for FREE by signing-up for the newsletter HERE.

Thank you for reading.

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