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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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New Release! – Historia IV – Camelot

Greetings history lovers and Arthurian enthusiasts!

Today we’re excited to announce the official launch of the next book in Eagles and Dragons Publishing’s exciting non-fiction series of books, Historia, your gateway to ancient and medieval history and archaeology.

If you haven’t seen any of the previous three Historia releases, you can check out the titles at the Non-Fiction tab of the website HERE.

Today, we’re thrilled to introduce you to the fourth volume in the Historia series…

Camelot: The Historical, Archaeological and Toponymic Considerations for South Cadbury Castle as King Arthur’s Capital

This book explores one of the most important sites in British history, archaeology and literature, a place that can, more than any other, lay claim to the name of Camelot.

The search for King Arthur and his famous capital of Camelot is a topic that has been hotly debated for over a hundred years, with many theories being put forward. It is a subject that has always been shrouded in the mist of fairy tales and legends, making the truth difficult to discover. However, there is one candidate for Camelot that shines out and brings the Arthurian legend to life: the hillfort of South Cadbury Castle.

In this book, the reader will learn not only about the evidence for a historical King Arthur, but also discover the most recent historical, archaeological, and toponymic evidence that make South Cadbury Castle the strongest contender for the title of Camelot.

Author and historian, Adam Alexander Haviaras, helps the reader to explore the possibility that King Arthur’s Camelot was not just a medieval invention, but that it was an actual place that played an important role in history and the British Heroic Age. The true Camelot of Arthur may not be what you expect, but the evidence that exists paints a clear picture of something even more exciting.

If you have an interest in ancient and medieval British history, archaeology, and Arthurian studies, or if you are on your own search for a shred of truth about King Arthur, then you will enjoy this in-depth study of one of the most important archaeological discoveries in the quest for Camelot.

After reading this book, you too may start to believe that Arthur and Camelot are not just medieval fabrications, but that they actually did exist.

Camelot (illustrated by Alan Lee)

As many of you already know, Arthurian studies has always been the focus of my academic career as well as at the forefront of my own, personal interests.

I firmly believe that there was a historical ‘King Arthur’ in the period after the departure of Rome from Britannia, and the Saxon invasions of the island.

But, as with many historical figures who have been turned into heroes cloaked in ages of myth and legend, it’s not easy to gain a clear picture. It is also not easy to find the true places that were linked to these heroes when they walked upon the earth.

Myth and legend keep the memory of people and places alive over the ages, but they can also confuse things and hide the truth.

There is a lot of myth and legend surrounding the capital or fortress of the historical Arthur, the place that we have come to know as ‘Camelot’. There are many candidates for the title, and the location is hotly, passionately debated among Arthurian enthusiasts.

Historia IV takes a look at the main considerations, and strong archaeological evidence, for the hillfort of South Cadbury Castle, in Somerset England, as the main contender in a wide-ranging quest for the true ‘Camelot’.

South Cadbury Castle from the North

This is a site I know well.

Not only did I write part of my masters dissertation on South Cadbury Castle, but I also worked as an archaeologist in the fields surrounding the site as part of the South Cadbury Environs Project team in the early 2000s.

Historia IV summarizes all that I have learned about South Cadbury Castle and its possible links to the historical ‘Arthur’.

And it does so in an easy-to-understand, accessible way.

Included in the book are a few appendices which include maps, loads of images, a video tour of South Cadbury Castle with yours truly, and an extensive bibliography that you can work your way through should you wish to do more reading.

This truly is an exciting addition to the Historia non-fiction series!

If you are on your own quest for Camelot, or if you are simply interested in the history of Dark Age Britain and the historical ‘King Arthur’, then you will want to check out Historia IV.

The eastern ramparts of South Cadbury Castle (photo: A. Haviaras)

If you are interested in getting a copy of this fourth book in the HISTORIA non-fiction series, you can check it out on Amazon, iTunes, Kobo, Google Play and other retailers, or by CLICKING HERE.

You can also purchase a copy directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing on the ‘Buy Direct from Eagles and Dragons’ tab of the website, or by CLICKING HERE.

Cheers, and thank you for reading!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marching Legions (Wikimedia Commons)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Severan Campaigns in Caledonia (Wikimedia Commons)

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

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 12,1)

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

The result? A brutal guerrilla war.

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

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 14,1)

The Highlands of Caledonia

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ruins of Roman York – historic photo of the multiangular tower

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

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

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

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

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

“Let no one escape sheer destruction,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

50,000 Roman dead.

And how many more Caledonian and Maeatae casualties?

If Cassius Dio is correct, the numbers are staggering.

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

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

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

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

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

Roman re-enactors (Historic Scotland)

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

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

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

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

The Severan invasion of Caledonia was just another such conflict.

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

Thank you for reading.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caracalla was obsessed with securing power…

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

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

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

Others were not so fortunate.

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

But how and where did he do this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Praetorian officers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you for reading.

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

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

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

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part V – The Death of an Emperor

We are past the midway point in this blog series on The World of Isle of the Blessed in which I share the research that went into the creation of the latest Eagles and Dragons release.

I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far!

Last week in Part IV, we looked at the imperial court of Severus and the main players who would have been present in Eburacum during the Caledonian campaign. If you missed it, you can check it out HERE.

In Part V, we’re going to be taking a brief look at one of the pivotal moments in Rome’s history: the death of Emperor Septimius Severus.

Septimius Severus

Severus, seeing that his sons were changing their mode of life and that the legions were becoming enervated by idleness, made a campaign against Britain [Caledonia], though he knew that he should not return…

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

In Warriors of Epona (Eagles and Dragons, Book III), Septimius Severus and his sons, Caracalla and Geta, arrive in Britannia for the invasion of Caledonia, and the sources tell us that this was partially to occupy the two sons who were running rampant in Rome after the execution of the Praetorian Prefect, Gaius Fulvius Plautianus. You can read more about the invasion of Caledonia HERE.

However, Severus had been ill for many years, mainly from gout, and perhaps arthritis. But he was a tough specimen, a man who had come out the victor in the previous civil war against Pescennius Niger and Clodius Albinus, and then as emperor had been victorious against the Parthian Empire. After the civil war, Severus brought a period of strength and stability to the Empire that saw its borders at their greatest extent and his power almost absolute, due to the strength and loyalty of the army.

Severus constantly looked to the stars…

One interesting fact about Septimius Severus and his supremely intelligent empress, Julia Domna, was that they were great believers in astrology and the messages the gods inscribed on the stars regarding their fates. Their astrologer was consulted in all things and went wherever they went.

It is for this reason, it is believed, that when the emperor set out for Caledonia, he knew that he would not see Rome or Leptis Magna, his north African home, again.

He knew this chiefly from the stars under which he had been born, for he had caused them to be painted on the ceilings of the rooms in the place where he was won’t to hold court, so that they were visible to all… He knew his fate also by what he had heard from the seers; for a thunderbolt had struck a statue of his which stood near the gates through which he was intending to march out and looked toward the road leading to his destination, and it had erased three letters from his name. For this reason, as the seers made clear, he did not return, but died in the third year. He took along with him an immense amount of money.

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

The Caledonian campaign began in A.D. 208. About three years later, Emperor Septimius Severus did indeed die at Eburacum (modern York) on February 4th, A.D. 211.

It seems the seers and astrologers had been correct.

Roman York around A.D. 210. Construction of the interval tower by Tracey Croft. (Historic England)

During the Caledonian campaign, Eburacum had been the administrative capital for the imperial court. Severus’ son, Geta took care of administration, while Caracalla and his father carried on with military actions against the Caledonians and Maeatae in the North.

However, due to Severus’ ill health, he was forced to return to Eburacum to await the arrival of those stars under which he knew he was to expire.

Herodian, the other historian for the period, gives us his account:

Now a more serious illness attacked the aged emperor and forced him to remain in his quarters; he undertook, however, to send his son out to direct the campaign. Caracalla, however, paid little attention to the war, but rather attempted to gain control of the army. Trying to persuade the soldiers to look to him alone for orders, he courted sole rule in every possible way, including slanderous attacks upon his brother. Considering his father, who had been ill for a long time and slow to die, a burdensome nuisance, he tried to persuade the physicians to harm the old man in their treatments so that he could be rid of him more quickly. After a short time, however, Severus died, succumbing chiefly to grief, after having achieved greater glory in military affairs than any of the emperors who had preceded him. No emperor before Severus had won such outstanding victories either in civil wars against political rivals or in foreign wars against barbarians. Thus Severus died after ruling for eighteen years, and was succeeded by his young sons, to whom he left an invincible army and more money than any emperor had ever left his successors.

(Herodian, History of the Empire, XV 1)

Imperial Family – The Severans

The death of Septimius Severus is a crucial moment in Isle of the Blessed, and indeed in the entire Eagles and Dragons series.

I have been writing about this fascinating emperor for a long time, since Parthia, and then, as the stars loomed above him, as his day of death appeared on the horizon, it was time to explore his thinking toward the end.

How difficult it must have been for such a strong individual to face his end? After winning, creating, and ruling a vast, thriving empire, how could he deal with saying goodbye to it all?

It was a privilege to write about it in Isle of the Blessed.

The research into Severus’ death was also fascinating. Cassius Dio gives some details:

…his body, arrayed in military garb, was placed upon a pyre, and as a mark of honour the soldiers and his sons ran about it; and as for the soldiers’ gifts, those who had things at hand to offer as gifts threw them upon it, and his sons applied the fire. Afterwards his bones were put in an urn of purple stone, carried to Rome, and deposited in the tomb of the Antonines. It is said that Severus sent for the urn shortly before his death, and after feeling of it, remarked: “Thou shalt hold a man that the world could not hold.”

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, 15, 2)

One can imagine Severus, staring at the stars he had had painted everywhere, and at the stone urn that would hold his remains, but my research into the death of this great emperor of Rome led me to something even more fascinating.

The funeral pyre of Septimius Severus was said to have been the largest pyre ever to be seen in Britannia.

But what did such a thing look like? Where in Eburacum could it have been located?

Numismatology, the study of coinage, has been extremely useful to me in my research into the Severans over the course of this series of novels, and once again, it proved extremely useful.

When looking for any information I could find on the death of Severus, I came across an image of a coin minted by Caracalla after the death of his father. It was perfect, for this coin depicted exactly what I was looking for…

Silver denarius showing the funeral pyre of Septimius Severus

On this coin is depicted the funeral pyre of Septimius Severus himself. It provided me with the information I needed to accurately describe this event.

Serendipity does indeed happen in research too!

The other question was the location of the pyre. Where could it have been located? Of course, the pyre would have had to be outside the city walls of Eburacum. But the ustrinum, the burning place, for such a large pyre would have to be far removed from the city.

Here too, the stars aligned for my research.

In modern York (ancient Eburacum) there is a place called ‘Severus Hill’ which is a large hill (now topped by a water tower) in an otherwise flat landscape that some historians believe was created by glacial shiftings millions of years ago.

However, I discovered that there is another theory about Severus Hill that the feature was not created by glaciers, but rather that it is the overgrown remains of Septimius Severus’ giant funeral pyre.

Severus Hill, and its water tower. (photo: yorkpress.co.uk)

I thought about this, about the distance from the ancient city walls (about 2 miles) and the toponymics of the place (place name). Whether the theory is absolutely true or not, it fit well with the story I was trying to tell.

It is wonderful when a plan, erm…plot, comes together!

Thus, my time with Septimius Severus, one of Rome’s great emperors, has come to an end. I will miss him.

He was not perfect, to be sure, but his life and actions have been fascinating to explore. He had great successes, but he also had failures, and perhaps his greatest failure was to entrust the empire he had built to his two sons, Caracalla and Geta.

Severus had, at one point, criticized Marcus Aurelius for making Commodus his heir, but he in turn had made the same mistake.

And the Empire would pay for it.

Still, Septimius Severus was an emperor until the very end, when his stars flickered and faded. His final words, as Cassius Dio tells us, were: “Come, give it here, if we have anything to do.”

I hope you have enjoyed this part in The World of Isle of the Blessed. There is more to come!

Tune in next week for Part VI when we will be looking at a particular archaeological discovery that sheds a gruesome light on the immediate aftermath of Severus’ death.

Thank you for reading.

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