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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part II – Roman Lindinis: The Small Town with Big Ambitions

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

In Part I, we looked at the hillfort of South Cadbury Castle which is one of the major settings of the book. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part II, we’re going to be taking a look at another place that plays an important role in Isle of the Blessed: Roman Lindinis.

The settlement of Lindinis (also known as ‘Lendiniae’), as it is known in the seventh century Ravenna Cosmography (a list of place names from India to Ireland) is actually modern Ilchester, in Somerset, England.

Lindinis, as it was known during the Roman period, was located just a few miles from South Cadbury Castle, and Glastonbury, Somerset. This fifty acre settlement lies where the Dorchester road interests with the Fosse Way, one of the major roads of Roman Britain.

Map showing the route of the Fosse Way from Exeter to Lincoln, and running through Ilchester

During the Roman period, Somerset was an agriculturally rich area of the Empire, with many villa estates, such as that of Pitney (which also features in the story). These estates’ primary business was in crops such as spelt wheat, oats, barley and rye. The also raised livestock, mainly cattle, but also sheep, horses, goats, and pigs.

These Roman villa owners were wealthy, and Lindinis was one of the main markets where they brought their crops and livestock.

Aeneas and Dido mosaic from Low Ham Roman Villa near Ilchester

Lindinis was not always a Roman settlement, however.

It was originally a Celtic oppidum, a native center that consisted of a large enclosure with homes, food stores and livestock. One imagines Celtic Somerset as a place of peace and vitality.

But, in A.D. 43 the Romans arrived with the advent of the Claudian invasion of Britain. Forty-five thousand troops marched over the land, including four legions, and the native Britons fought, and lost. Vespasian, the future emperor, stormed the southern hillforts of Britain, including South Cadbury Castle, ushering in an age of Roman domination.

Possible remains of one of Lindinis’ Roman forts

Eventually, at Lindinis, two successive forts were built on the site to the south of the river: one from Nero’s reign, and another during the Flavian period. There is also evidence for a third fort to the northeast of the river crossing where a double ditch enclosure has been discovered.

Plan of Pre-Roman and Early Roman Ilchester (image from the Ilchester Parish Council)

The Roman invasion of Britain was a violent time, and that violence carried on through the Boudiccan revolt of A.D. 59. But when the blood stopped flowing, an age of Pax Romana settled on the southwest of Britannia, and Lindinis was at the heart of it.

Lindinis, however, was not the main settlement of Roman Somerset. To maintain peace and order, and keep the economy running, the Romans instituted various civitates, centres of local government in which tribal groups of the region participated.

The centre of town, what might later have been market

The council of a civitas was known as an ordo, and the members of the ordo were decurions, overseen by an executive, elected curia of two men. The ordo of a civitas usually included Romans, tribal aristocrats or local chieftains, and it was their job to administer local justice, put on public shows, see to religious taxation, the census, and represent the civitas in Londinium. Supreme authority, however, belonged to the Provincial Governor who was aided by a procurator, the ‘tax man’.

Ilchester crossing of the River Yeo. Remains of the Roman fort to the left.

There were three major civitates during the Roman period in southwestern Britannia: Durnovaria (modern Dorchester) the civitas of the Durotriges tribe, Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter) the civitas of the Dumnonii, and to the north Corinium Dobunnorum (modern Cirencester) the tribal centre of the Dobunni.

Despite its large market and location at a crossroads along the artery of the Fosse Way over the river Yoe – in the southwest, the Fosse Way ran from Isca Dumnoniorum (modern Exeter) to Aquae Sulis (modern Bath) – Lindinis was not one of the major civitates of the region, though it did rival nearby Durnovaria.

Ilchester’s bridge over the river Yeo

In addition to a thriving market where wine, oil, clothing, ornaments, jewellery, tools, pottery and glass were sold, Lindinis also had gravel and stone streets, and stone walls (later). People also came to Lindinis to pay their taxes.

Where the road diverges in Ilchester – the left to Exeter, the right to Dorchester. See the bridge over the river directly ahead.

There was also a small garrison.

Lindinis may have seen itself as the civitas Durotrigum Lendiniensium, but it could not be an official civitas as one of the requirements for civitas status was a basilica or forum. Lindinis did not have either of those.

Plan of late Roman Ilchester (map from the Ilchester Parish Council)

Roman Lindinis had a large role to play in the economy of Roman Somerset, but perhaps not as large as its ordo would have liked. It also found itself in difficult situations during its time, for during the civil war (A.D. 193) between Septimius Severus, Pescennius Niger, and Clodius Albinus, Lindinis was forced to declare for Clodius Albinus who was in Britannia when he made his claim. At this time, new defences were built around Lindinis, as if in anticipation of the trouble to come.

Ah…politics.

In the book, Isle of the Blessed, Lucius Metellus Anguis, the main protagonist in the Eagles and Dragons series, has several run-ins with the ordo members of Lindinis’ ruling council who see him as a person of influence at the imperial court, a man who could help their small town to become much more.

Historically, despite its lack of a proper forum or basilica, it seems that Lindinis did succeed in attaining a measure of civitas status, for along Hadrian’s Wall, two inscriptions have been found bearing the name of a detachment from the ‘Civitas Durotragum Lendiniensis’, or the ‘Lindinis tribe of the Durotriges’.

This, despite the presence of the other three, official civitas settlements Durnovaria, Isca, and Corinium.

Who knows? Perhaps the persuasiveness of the ordo members of Lindinis, the settlement’s important location, and the size of its market helped to sway the Roman authorities to grant civitas status.

In Isle of the Blessed, we see how far the local politicians are willing to go.

I hope you’ve enjoyed part two of The World of Isle of the Blessed.

Next week, in Part III, we will look at the history, myth and legend surrounding what is known in Isle of the Blessed as Ynis Wytrin, that is, Glastonbury, England.

Thank you for reading.

Isle of the Blessed 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 clicking HERE.

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The World of Isle of the Blessed – Part I – The Dragon’s Domus

Salvete, readers and history-lovers!

Welcome to The World of Isle of the Blessed!

In this seven-part blog series, we’re going to be taking a look at the research that went into my latest historical fantasy release, Isle of the Blessed, Book IV in the #1 bestselling Eagles and Dragons series.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll take you on a journey through the world of early third-century Roman Britain in which we will look at the history, archaeology, and historical events that took place during this pivotal time in the Roman Empire in which the book is set.

In this first post, we’re taking a closer look at a site that is well-known to Arthurian enthusiasts: the hillfort of South Cadbury Castle.

South Cadbury from the North

At the very south ende of the chirche of South-Cadbyri standith Camallate, sumtyme a famose toun or castelle… The people can tell nothing ther but that they have hard say that Arture much resorted to Camallate. (John Leland, Royal Antiquary, 1532)

The hillfort of South Cadbury Castle in Somerset, England, is one of the major locations in Isle of the Blessed. However, most people are familiar with it as a site with strong Arthurian associations. As such, its importance and role is hotly debated.

Though Isle of the Blessed is not a story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, it is difficult not to speak of this important Iron Age site without discussing the Arthurian connection.

Was South Cadbury Castle the power centre of the historical Romano-British warlord, or dux bellorum, we know as ‘King Arthur’? Was this the actual site of what has come to be known in the popular imagination as ‘Camelot’?

I’ve always been a strong proponent of the theory that there was in fact, an historical ‘Arthur’ who formed the factual basis for all the legends we love and cherish. So, when I look at sites such as South Cadbury, I do so with that in mind. However, that doesn’t mean that I accept a site’s association with Arthur on faith alone. 

Adam Alexander Haviaras filming on top of South Cadbury Castle

I know this site pretty well – as I studied it and wrote about it as part of my Master’s dissertation entitled “Camelot: A look at the historical, archaeological, and toponymic evidence for King Arthur’s Capital”. As part of this, I looked at three of the main candidates for Camelot that had been put forward at the time – Wroxeter (Roman Viroconium), Roxburgh Castle (in the Scottish Borders), and South Cadbury. There is a copy of the dissertation hidden somewhere in the stacks at the St. Andrews University library in Scotland.

South Cadbury Castle is also where I cut my teeth as an archaeologist as part of the South Cadbury Environs Project team for a couple of seasons under the leadership of Richard Tabor. This was a wonderful experience that helped me to get up close and personal with the site I had studied for so long – I dug test pits, got into bigger trenches in which curious cows came to watch what I was doing, carried out geophysical surveys with a magnetometer, and found some curious objects such as a bronze dolphin that formed the handle of a Roman drinking cup. 

Most of all, I was given the chance to spend more time on this amazing, and yes, magical, landscape.

And a couple years ago, when doing research for Isle of the Blessed, I returned to South Cadbury where I also filmed a mini-documentary on the site (coming out later this year!).

British Belgic Warriors of the Iron Age – Illustrated by Angus McBride (source – Rome’s Enemies 2 – Gallic and British Celts)

Before I give my thoughts on wandering the slopes of South Cadbury Castle, we should have a look at what it actually is. 

South Cadbury Castle is not the late medieval castle with banners flying from tall towers that make up our usual image of Camelot. It is a 500 foot high Iron Age hillfort located in the pre-Roman era lands of the Durotriges. Occupation of the site began in the Neolithic period and it went through various stages of occupation from the 5th century B.C. onward.

By the time of the Roman invasion of Britain, it had four massive defensive ramparts with an inner area of about 18 acres. Access to the top was by two entrances, one to the north-east and the other, larger one, to the south-west. The Iron Age occupation of the site came to a violent end around A.D. 43 when Vespasian stormed the southern hillforts of Britannia. 

Aerial view of South Cadbury Castle

The Romans made little use of the site, though there have been some theories that it was used as a Roman supply station. This theory is explored in Isle of the Blessed and the Eagles and Dragons series. In the 3rd and 4th centuries, there was renewed activity with visits being made to a Romano-Celtic temple that was built on the site.

Location of the Romano-British temple in the south-east sector of the hillfort of South Cadbury Castle

During excavations, a bronze letter ‘A’ was found that some believe belonged to this temple, which was perhaps dedicated to Mars, or some other deity.

However, when it comes to South Cadbury Castle, the periods that have always drawn me to it are the 5th and 6th centuries A.D. This period of the site is known as the ‘Arthurian’ period, and it is at this time, after Rome’s legions had left the island, that the archaeology shows a massive refortification of the hillfort. 

6th Century British Warriors – Illustrated by Agnus McBride (source – Arthur and the Anglo-Saxon Wars)

Though it is much debated, South Cadbury’s association with the Arthurian period stems not just from hearsay and folklore. It has the archaeological evidence to back it up. 

There have been a few big excavations of the hillfort over the years, but the biggest of all took place in the late 1960s and was headed by Professor Leslie Alcock. Professor Alcock and his team discovered evidence for a large scale occupation and refortification of the hillfort, during the Arthurian period, which showed repaired defences, including a strong gatehouse at the south-west entrance, and most importantly, several buildings, including a kitchen and a large timber hall on the fort’s high plateau. 

The discovery of post holes reveals a finely-built timber hall that was on a large scale, measuring about 63×34 feet. This hall would not have been the great castle hall of late medieval romance, but rather something like the timber drinking halls of the period, more like to the Golden Hall of Meduseld, the seat of King Theoden in Lord of the Rings. 

South Cadbury Timber Hall (Leslie Alcock)

Another very telling discovery at Cadbury Castle was the large quantity of Mediterranean pottery that dates to the Arthurian period of activity. This is the same pottery type that was discovered at Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, a site that also has strong Arthurian associations. One might think that shards of pottery from wine, olives and olive oil might be pretty mundane, but they anchor the sites strongly in the period, and also show that someone of importance was associated with the site. Not everyone could afford to import such things through trade. 

The refortification of the hillfort during the Arthurian period was on a massive scale, and would have required many resources and men to hold it. South Cadbury castle was, in a way, on the front lines of the British struggle against the invading Saxons, and would have been well-placed to meet the Saxons as they advanced westward. 

Based on the refortification, and evidence of the gatehouse that linked the ramparts running over the cobbled road at the south-west corner, this place was likely the base for an army that was large by the standards of the period. It may have been the site of the court of the dux bellorum, or the historical Arthur. 

Artist Reconstruction of the South-west gate – Illustrated by Peter Dennis (Source – British Forts in the Age of Arthur)

I am only scratching the surface here, as far as the archaeological finds. For a more academic look at South Cadbury Castle, you will want to read the upcoming Historia series release Camelot: The Historical, Archaeological and Toponymic Considerations for South Cadbury Castle as King Arthur’s Capital. (Make sure you are signed-up to the mailing list be notified of that release)

South Cadbury Castle was finally abandoned in the early 11th century when it was being used as a royal mint during the reign of the Saxon king, Aethelred.

Current residents of South Cadbury Castle

Today, South Cadbury Castle is a quiet hill in the midst of the Somerset countryside where it lies just south of the A303 motorway. The levels of its steep ring fortifications are now overgrown with trees and scrub, and cows roam the fields surrounding it. 

When you visit, you pull your car into the small car park at the south end of the village of South Cadbury, just east of the hillfort. From the lane, you can’t really tell what you’re looking at. It seems like a steep, forested hill with a path leading up.

Path leading up to the north-east gate of South Cadbury Castle

This path leads up to the north-east gate of the hillfort, and for me, it was always the gateway to another time, another realm. 

It’s difficult to approach this site and reconcile the archaeologist/historian side of me with the romantic. Arthurian lore runs deep in my veins, and has had a hold on my psyche since I was very young. The first time I visited the site, I could almost hear the call of clear trumpets and the thumping of horses’ hooves upon the ground as knights returned home from their adventures, their horses brightly caparisoned, their armour shining brightly in the light of the Summer Country. 

Camelot by Gustave Dore

Of course, I know that is not how it was during the Arthurian period, but this is a place and story that fires the imagination. Cadbury Castle’s associations with Arthur include a hollow hill where he sleeps until he is needed again, the site of ‘Arthur’s Well’, a place on the slopes where his horse drank when he led the Wild Hunt, and of course the location of Camelot. 

To me, however, the idea of South Cadbury as the main fortress of a Romano-British warlord leading a group of skilled cavalry in a last stand against the invading Saxons is no less romantic. 

During my subsequent visits, I would ascend the dirt and rock path leading up to the northeast gate and pause with reverence for the history of the place. I would imagine looking ahead, up the slope to the central plateau of the hillfort to the great wooden hall where smoke from the hearth of Arthur’s hall wafted into the sky as he and his warriors discussed the fight for their lives and their Romano-British heritage.

Plateau of South Cadbury where the timber hall was located

The warriors that manned the ramparts of South Cadbury, who dined in the hall, and who rode out to meet the Saxons, have been wrapped in the fabric of myth, as much as the Isle of Avalon not ten miles distant, in Glastonbury. But they certainly left a mark on the place, on history and folklore. 

As I walk the grass-covered ramparts of South Cadbury, watching the crows dive in the winds above the steep slopes, I can’t help but wonder if Arthur, Gawain, Bors, Tristan, Bedwyr, Cai and others walked that same path, a wary eye out for a sign of the enemy that would shatter the peace they had fought so hard for at the famed battle of Mons Badonicus.

Arthur in battle beneath the Dragon banner

Rarely have I felt so at peace and nostalgic as I have when walking around this hillfort. I can still smell the damp grass and feel the sun on my face. In my mind, I still watch the puffs of white cloud blowing over the Somerset landscape as I pause to gaze to the north-west and see Glastonbury Tor rising out of the earth. 

In ages past, when the levels flooded, the distance between Cadbury Castle and Glastonbury might have been crossed by boat if you knew the way and which rivers to take. Indeed, one of the discoveries found around the hillfort was a boat. 

South Cadbury Castle is, in some ways, closely tied to Avalon, and you can feel that as you look from the top of one to the other. This too is explored in Isle of the Blessed.

Glastonbury Tor from South Cadbury

After making a round of the ramparts, and standing on the roadway of the south-west gate, I would always spend a good amount of time on the plateau, watching the sky and letting my imagination take hold. 

The beauty of visiting a site, rather than looking at in a book or online, is that direct connection with the past, with the history of the place. 

Yes, many of the stories we know and love about Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table are medieval fabrications. But I do believe that every legend has its base in fact, and so it’s a comfort to know that the layers of myth and legend are veined with elements of possible truth and history.

The Knights of the Round Table (Edward Burne Jones)

Many people will disagree, and that’s ok. When it comes to Arthur we will never reach a consensus.

However, considering the archaeological evidence at South Cadbury Castle, along with its location and the apparent activity during the Arthurian period, it seems quite possible that if there was an historical Arthur, he would undoubtedly have been familiar with this magnificent hillfort.

Was this just another strong point in the British defensive network? Or was it the Arthurian power centre that has come to be known as Camelot? 

Whatever the answer is, it is surely fascinating, and perhaps unattainable. But then, that is what makes these historical mysteries so intriguing. 

If you ever manage to roam the lands In Insula Avalonia, just be sure to make your way to South Cadbury Castle. Walk up the steep slopes, and through the gate, and know that you may just be walking in the footsteps of Arthur.

The steep, southern ramparts of South Cadbury Castle

I hope you’ve enjoyed this first part of The World of Isle of the Blessed.

Be sure to tune in for Part II in which we will look the history of another setting in Isle of the Blessed: the village of Ilchester, Roman Lindinis.

Thank you for reading.

Isle of the Blessed 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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A New Eagles and Dragons Series Novel!

We’re excited to announce the official launch of Isle of the Blessed, Book IV in the #1 bestselling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.

Fans of this series have been waiting quite a long time for this book, but now the wait is over.

Sound the cornu and slam your gladii against your scuta!

Isle of the Blessed – Eagles and Dragons Book IV

At the peak of Rome’s might, a dragon is born among eagles, an heir to a line both blessed and cursed by the Gods for ages.

Emperor Septimius Severus’ war against the Caledonians has ended with a peace treaty. Rome has won.

As a reward for the blood they have shed, many of Rome’s warriors have been granted a reprieve from duty, including Lucius Metellus Anguis, prefect of the now famous Sarmatian cavalry.

The Gods seem finally to have granted Lucius a peaceful life as he builds a new home for his family upon an ancient hillfort in the south of Britannia. Lucius now finds that, after years of war and brutality, the most elusive peace, the peace within, is finally within his grasp.

But heroes are never without enemies, and Lucius, Rome’s famed Dragon, has many.

After an argument with traitorous local politicians, and a quest in which he is confronted by a dark goddess, Lucius realizes that his pastoral idyll is at an end. When war erupts in Caledonia once more, he is called away only to be assaulted on all fronts by his most deadly enemy.

The choices presented to Lucius by the Gods, his allies, and his friends are clear and terrifying. He can hand victory and power over to the wickedest men in the Empire, or he can fight for his life to create the world he believes in.

Will Lucius’ enemies and the powers of darkness overwhelm and destroy him? Or will he find the strength to survive the trials he faces and protect the people he loves?

This time, not even the Gods know…

We hope you like the sound of this one. It promises to take you on an adventure in the Roman Empire that you won’t forget, and the editorial team and beta readers have told us that this is Adam’s best book to date!

You can learn more and find all the links to get your copy ON THIS WEB PAGE.

Isle of the Blessed is available in e-book format at all major on-line retailers, and currently in paperback from Amazon.

If you haven’t read any books in the Eagles and Dragons series, you can start the series for FREE with the full-length novel, The Dragon: Genesis, which you can download by CLICKING HERE.

Here’s to a new adventure in the Roman Empire!

Happy Reading!

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Guest Post: Discovering The Queen of Warriors with author, Zenobia Neil

We’ve got something special for you this week on Writing the Past!

Eagles and Dragons Publishing is thrilled to welcome back historical fiction author, Zenobia Neil, to talk about her latest epic, The Queen of Warriors.

Some of you may remember Zenobia from her previous post here, ‘Love is a Monster’, about the Cupid and Psyche myth and her novel, Psyche Unbound. If you missed that, you can check it out HERE.

In her newest novel, Zenobia takes us into the Hellenistic world for an amazing, epic journey. We’ve read this book, and it’s fantastic.

So, without further ado, let Zenobia take you into the world of The Queen of Warriors.

Discovering The Queen of Warriors

When I started writing The Queen of Warriors over seven years ago, my characters, a Xena: Warrior Princess type Greek warrior woman and a royal Persian rebel, came to me fully formed. However, I had no idea where and when the story took place. In the beginning, I was content with a kind of Xena fanfiction (without knowing what fanfiction was.) I began writing the story in a pseudo Greco-Roman world. That was fun, but I wanted to write real historical fiction. After re-reading Mary Renault’s The Persian Boy (a novel about Alexander the Great told by his eunuch Persian lover, Bagoas) I decided to set my story in the war-torn remains of Alexander the Great’s Empire.

My first serious research for this book yielded a lot of information about Alexander the Great’s life. I read about the Diadochi, the war of his generals. An early timeline I looked at made it seem that the important events that occurred were the conquests of Alexander, the death of Alexander, the War of Succession and then centuries later, Rome. (Sorry, Parthian Empire.) I wondered what life was like for people living in the former empire of Alexander. Ancient history might be recorded in centuries, but people live in decades, in years and days.

What was this period after the death of Alexander like? Alexander’s generals Lysimachus, Cassander, Ptolemy, and Seleucus divided his empire and fought with each other, while struggling to maintain their claims to rule at all. What would this have been like for Persians and Egyptians at this time? Ptolemy was able to condense his power in Egypt, a fairly easy transition compared to the other generals. His line lasted for generations and ended with Cleopatra. But Seleucus attempted to keep the lands Alexander had conquered in Persia—a vast expanse of diverse countries.

Before Alexander came, the Persian Empire created a vast network of satrapies—local governors who ruled over each local kingdom and sent taxes and intel back to the king. The Persian Empire had provided infrastructure. Alexander the Great had largely continued this practice, and he had brought some perks as well. Those who were his friends prospered; those who fought against him risked being killed, enslaved, or crucified.

But what did Seleucus have to offer? Why would any Persian, Mede, Bactrian, or Babylonian bow to him? Who would fight for him and why? These are the questions I wondered while trying to decide where in the former Persian empire my story would take place.

I had a National Geographic map that showed Alexander’s route, which I stared at every day. I tried to imagine where in this great expanse my story could take place. Eventually, it became clear that the story was set in Rhagae, a city near the Caspian Sea in what is now Tehran. I could clearly picture this fortress, the crenelated walls set against the backdrop of the snowy Elburz Mountains. Even before I knew his name, I knew my character Artaxerxes’s personality. As a Persian royal, he had grown up rich. He had golden armbands decorated with lynxes with ruby eyes. He had also learned to ride and shoot a bow as a child. He had trained for war since childhood, and he held truth and integrity above all else.

Writing the character of Alexandra of Sparta was a bit more of a challenge. Although originally inspired by Xena, Alexandra had her own demons, ones that would not be acceptable for daytime TV.

Zenobia with the statue of Leonidas in Sparta

I needed to know Alexandra’s history and how she became a warrior. When I started brushing up on my ancient Greek history, the most recorded information came from Athens. It seemed impossible for an Athenian woman to learn to fight. I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the idea of Sparta, especially in juxtaposition with Persia. The classical age of Sparta was around 500 BCE. This made me wonder the same thing I did about Alexander’s empire after his death—what happened after?

There’s a tendency to think of Sparta as frozen in time, in the height of her power, with Leonidas as one of her two kings and every Spartan citizen a muscular warrior (Thanks, 300!). But that was just one period of time. History is many things, but it is always dynamic. We remember the highlights, but that doesn’t make up the time period of people’s everyday lives.

So what happened to Sparta? After the battle of Leuctra in 371 BCE, they lost their slave population, and with it their power. When he came to power, Alexander the Great forced them to join the League of Corinth. Later, some Spartans, like other Greeks, were offered land in Alexander’s former empire to help the Hellenistic culture continue. This, was how my main character, Alexandra and her friend Nicandor, the Little Red Fox came from Sparta to Asia Minor.

Sparta continued as a polis, though she lost her status as a major fighting force. Decades later when Sparta, like all of Greece and much of the ancient world was a part of the Roman Empire, Sparta became a tourist destination. Wealthy Romans came to watch a famous coming of age ceremony where boys were whipped at the temple of Artemis Orthia. What had once been a real rite of passage became a symbol of entertainment, and Sparta herself became a symbol of a classical strength that had once existed and then become nothing more than an idea of bravery and power.

The world of Sparta

This idea of Spartan hype stayed with me. Even if Sparta didn’t have the power it once did, being a Spartan carried weight and expectations. In The Queen of Warriors, Nicandor, The Little Red Fox, is Alexandra’s general, strategist, and advisor. He helps influence her power by spreading conflicting rumors that she’s an Amazon, a Spartan warrior, the Terror of the East. Being a woman warrior, a woman leader, she knows if she’s ever captured, terrible things will be done to her for daring to venture into a man’s world. So Nicandor makes her into a monster, too cruel to be crossed.

Once I figured out the time and place, I was able to let my characters really come through. I knew Alexandra of Sparta was a cursed warrior woman who wanted to atone for her crimes—I did not initially know what her crimes were—but it’s not hard to imagine a mercenary leader who hasn’t done terrible things. Using the Spartan angle, her advisor the Little Red Fox spreads rumors that she’s ripped out men’s tongues—when he actually finds people who’ve already lost their tongues.

There are no recorded documents of Spartan women warriors, only of the Spartans teaching girls as well as boys. Like any good ancient Greek education, this included physical activities. Unlike Athenian women, Spartan women knew how to manage their lands as well as households since Spartan men were often away. In certain situations, Spartan women could own land.

There have always been women warriors. Queen Tomyris of the Massaegetae, Artemisia I of Caria who fought for Xerxes, and Alexander the Great’s half-sister Cynane grew up in Illyria and was a warrior herself. And there have always been women who entered and competed in roles that were traditionally reserved for men. Readers of Adam Alexander Haviaras’s Heart of Fire will remember Kyniska, the Spartan princess who made Olympic history by winning a chariot race.

We’ve heard stories of women warriors from history, but there are also countless lives that were never recorded or whose positions were changed from leader to wife or concubine, or those whose histories were completely erased.

Alexandra of Sparta is not based on a real known person in history, but that doesn’t mean that someone like her never existed. In addition to learning about the past, imagining what could have been is one of my favorite aspects of writing historical fiction. More and more discoveries are being made showing how women were involved in roles that were traditionally thought of belonging solely to men. I’m delighted my characters came to me and demanded their story be told.

We’d like to thank Zenobia for a fascinating look at the history of this period and for sharing the inspiration behind The Queen of Warriors with us.

If you have any questions for her, please post them in the comments below.

We highly recommend this book, so if you would like to learn more and get a copy, just CLICK HERE.

Be sure to visit Zenobia’s website, and watch the book trailer at the bottom of this post as well.

Thank you, Zenobia!

Historical Fiction Author, Zenobia Neil

Zenobia Neil was named after an ancient warrior queen who fought against the Romans. She writes about the mythic past and Greek and Roman gods having too much fun. The Queen of Warriors is her third book. Visit her at ZenobiaNeil.com

Praise for The Queen of Warriors

“The Queen of Warriors is a full-blooded adventure into the ancient and mythological world of the warrior queen, Alexandra of Sparta.  Imaginative, exciting, and alluring!” – Margaret George, author of Helen of Troy

“A sizzling epic that will tempt you into the Hellenistic age. Neil’s writing is smooth, and anyone would be hard-pressed not to fall in love with her kick-ass heroine, Alexandra of Sparta!” – Adam Alexander Haviaras, Eagles and Dragons Publishing

“Bold, unexpected, and immensely satisfying. The Queen of Warriors is a game changer.”  – Jessica Cale, editor of Dirty, Sexy History

“A surprising tale of retribution but also of redemption. Sexy yet thoughtful . . . unexpectedly moving.”  – L.J. Trafford, author of The Four Emperor Series

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Agora – A Visit to the Heart of Ancient Athens

Greetings readers and history-lovers!

It’s been a brilliant summer, but after some time off, new adventures, and a lot more writing, we’re back on with the blog.

It’s going to be a busy fall this year with some very exciting announcements coming up soon, so if you are not a mailing list subscriber, you should sign-up now so you don’t miss anything.

If you were following along on the Instagram feed, you’ll know that I was in Greece visiting with family for about five scorching weeks.

Normally, when we go back to Greece, we visit many archaeological sites, but this time, it was more about family and refilling the creative well. Besides, the days were so hot that it was bordering on dangerous. I can still feel the burning, crisping sensation on my arms!

Pegasus constellation as seen through ‘Star Walk’ app

It was wonderful to hear and see that symphony of Greek summer – the gentle lap of water on pebbled beaches, brilliant sunrises that roused the chorus of cicadas, wine-filled sunsets watching the chariot of the sun disappear into the West, and night skies filled with legendary constellations – every day it was different and awe-inspiring.

I especially enjoyed the sweet scent of pine and wild thyme in the heat of day as I stared out the sky and sea, a world in myriad shades of blue…

But the historian in me would think it blasphemous to be in Greece and not visit at least one archaeological site. And so, after my seaside idyll in the Argolid peninsula, during my last couple of days in Athens, I made my way to the heart of the city to a site I had not visited in some years – the ancient agora of Athens.

Before I tell you what it felt like to return to this ancient place, here is a bit of history for those of you who are not familiar with it.

The agora has been the beating heart of ancient Athens since at least the sixth century B.C. I don’t mean human activity, for that goes march farther back. I mean that the agora has been the social, commercial, entertainment, political and religious heart of Athens since then.

Almost everything of import in Athens’ history happened in and around the agora, including the birth of Democracy.

The Agora of ancient Athens with the Acropolis in the background

The area of the agora is actually known as ‘Thiseio’. Years ago, when I first visited the agora, I asked about this and discovered that this stems from the mistaken belief that the intact temple of Hephaestus overlooking the site was a temple dedicated to Theseus, the legendary king of Athens (yes, Theseus who escaped the labyrinth!).

As part of the Theseus connection, there is a legend (mentioned by Pausanias) that a great battle took place on the site of the agora between the Greeks and invading Amazons who had been angered that Antiope, the sister of Queen Hippolyta and Penthesilea, fell in love with the Athenian king and returned there with him.

Antiope was killed during the battle, but Theseus and the Greeks were victorious nonetheless. As an aside, this tragic tale is depicted in a brilliant novel by Steven Pressfield, Last of the Amazons.

Statue of Theseus at Thisieo metro station in Athens

The ancient agora lies in the shadow of the Acropolis of Athens with the Areopagus (Ares’ Rock), Athens’ oldest court, to the southwest. Fun Fact: the Areopagus is called that because that is where the Gods tried Ares for murder. Murder trials continued to take place there during Athens’ history.

The agora is also flanked by the hill of Kolonos Agoraios, dominated by the temple of Hephaestus to the west, and the reconstructed stoa of Attalos to the east.

The Panathenaic Way, the road that ran from the great Dipylon Gate of Athens to the Acropolis, ran directly through the agora, as did the road to the ancient port of Piraeus.

The archaeological site is packed with ruins. In fact, excavations under the Archaeological Society and the American School of Classical Studies have been ongoing here since 1931.

Map of ancient Agora of Athens

The ancient agora of Athens is a place of many layers, and it’s no wonder, for it was destroyed several times in its history. The Persians destroyed it during their invasion of 480 B.C., and the Romans under Sulla did their dirty work in 86 B.C.

Later, in A.D. 267, the Herulians (a Scythian people from around the Black Sea) sacked Athens, and then the Slavs did the same in A.D. 580, not to mention the damage that was done during the wars of independence and other conflicts.

The stones of the ancient agora had born witness to a lot before being buried beneath the modern neighbourhood of ‘Vrysaki’.

I’m not going to go into every single monument that is visible today in the agora. There arsenal of ancient Athens, various stoas, the altar of Zeus Agoraios, the altar of the twelve gods, the temple of Ares, the Odeion of Agrippa, the library, and the temple of Apollo Patroos are just a few of the ruins you can wander around.

Click here for a 360 view of the Agora

Like many archaeological sites in Greece for me, a visit to the ancient agora of Athens is something more to be felt.

After taking the subway to Monastiraki station in the heart of the flea market and Plaka tourist district, we made our way through the thick and sweaty crowds, along tavernas with misting fans to the entrance on the northern side of the agora.

It seems all the world still comes to the agora of Athens. I counted about nine different languages alone in the line to get in. After a few minutes, we had our tickets and walked through to a spot away from the milling masses of snap-happy tour groups to look up and see the shining beacon of the Acropolis and the creamy white structures of the Erechtheum, Propylaea, and the Parthenon. It always fills me with silent awe to look up at that view, and the Agora is one of the best places to admire it.

View of Acropolis from centre of Agora

To the far left, the Stoa of Attalos, where the museum is located, beckoned with its long shaded colonnades of cool marble, but we would leave that until last. Glancing up to my right, the sentry temple of Hephaestus upon the hill called to me, and so I began to make my way.

Thankfully, trees abound in the agora, so you can take your time and admire all there is to see from frequent pockets of shade brimming with cicada song.

I passed the site of the altar of the twelve gods and the overgrown ruins of the temple of Ares, unnoticed by most tourists, to stand before the imposing ruins of the Roman-build Odeion of Agrippa built in 15 B.C., and destroyed during the later Herulian attack. This spot is at the centre of the agora, and I stood there for a few minutes, gazing out from beneath the imposing statues of Tritons. 

One of the Tritons on the facade of the Roman Odeion of Agrippa

After a time pretending the murmur of tourists was the sound of ancient Athenians, I continued my walk to the altar of Zeus Agoraios, one of my favourite spots in the agora. How many offerings had been made there to the King of the Gods? The altar’s base is quite intact, and it stands in stony silence with the expanse of the agora before it, and the temple of Hephaestus and the ancient arsenal on the hill behind.

After watching most tourist by-pass Zeus’ altar as if it were just another pile of rocks, I turned around and looked up at the temple of Hephaestus, one of the most intact ancient temples I have ever seen.

Looking toward the temple of Hephaestus from the altar of Zeus

The climb up is not long, but in that heat, I passed pockets of visitors resting in the shade of trees on their way up.

I couldn’t wait, however, and pressed on along the narrow, rocky path to the top.

There is something about the design of an ancient temple that appeals to my senses. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps is it is the simple lines that give one a sense of peace and order, or the ancient belief that it was where one communed with that particular god? Maybe there is something to the golden mean that permeates every aspect of those ancient structures?

I don’t know for certain, but when I am in the presence of such a beautiful structure, I fall silent. The fact that that temple is so intact makes it even more powerful.

Looking at the interior of the temple of Hephaestus

I strolled around the perimeter of the temple, admiring the strength of its doric columns. When I reached the back, I stood peering inside, catching a glimpse of the ancient cella at its heart, so dark and quiet, cool in the middle of the inferno outside.

I had been to visit the temple before, years ago, but every time is like a first time in places like that. Our experiences change us between visits over the years. We notice new things, feel differently when we return, even though the sites themselves are frozen in time.

After admiring the temple, it was time to make our way back across the southern end of the agora toward the reconstructed stoa of Attalos. This route takes you back through the heart of the agora, along the length of the ruins of the middle stoa where you can see the rooms from which the ancient city was administered.

If you look up, you can see the Acropolis with even greater clarity, and the masses of tourists wending their way up like a flow of busy ants around a hill.

As I walked, there was much more to see, but the heat was intensifying. Some things would have to wait until the next visit.

The colonnade of the restored Stoa of Attalos

The stoa of Attalos, built in the second century B.C. by that King of Pergamon (159-138 B.C.), was busy with people taking refuge from the shade, talking, resting, shopping in the museum shop, and admiring the remnants of Athens’ great past. You could hear tour guides teaching their groups about this history of Athens, Greek visitors talking politics, and others taking in the view and discussing the next part of their journey in Greece. The scene, apart from the clothing and languages spoken, might not have been that different from two thousand years before.

As for me, I made my way into the small museum that is housed on the ground floor of the stoa. Don’t let the size of this museum fool you. It houses a wonderful collection of artifacts from the full range of Athenian history in the agora from early Bronze Age tombs, through the Geometric period, the Classical period, and into the Hellenistic and Roman ages.

One of my favourite pieces was a three-handled bowl of which I had recently bought a wonderful replica from our friends at the Ceramotechnica Xipolias in ancient Epidaurus. 

Here are a few of the wonderful artifacts that are in the museum of the ancient Agora:

A Spartan hoplon shield in the museum

Bronze spear heads and horse bits

Ostraka with the name of ‘Themistocles’, the great Athenian general, on them

Souvlaki anyone? See this small oven and kebab sticks! People also came to eat in the Agora.

After we were finished in the museum, there was one more surprise left in the stoa. If you go to the north or south end of the stoa you will see stairs leading to the second level.

We snaked our way up the stairs on the north end to find not only a wonderful view of the agora, but also, behind walls of glass, a long row of wooden shelves where myriad artifacts are stored. It was unbelievable to stand on the other side of the glass looking into the shadowed interior to see ancient black and red vases and kraters, kylixes and more. There were Mycenaean artifacts too, and all of it just sitting there silent witnesses to the ages gone past.

Oh, just some ancient pottery tucked away on a shelf.

As we finished in the stoa and museum, we decided it was time to go. We made our way along a wall of broken monuments, displayed like ornaments in the garden of some antiquarian, each one with a story to tell of Athens’ past, each one whispering as I walked by.

I had to pull myself away from those voices, to tell them that I would see them again some day.

The day was wearing on, and there was more to do, more people to see before the end of my summer odyssey. But, I had to stand at the gates of the ancient Agora one more time and look out over the ruins of Athens’ history and up to the hopeful beacon of the Acropolis.

It is never easy to say goodbye to that ancient place, but I did so with a pang before turning and disappearing into the crowded market streets of Monastiraki and the Plaka, a part of me still wandering the Agora, haunted by history.

Finishing things off with some shopping in the Plaka.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this short post on the agora of ancient Athens. If you did, you might also enjoy some previous posts on visits to Delphi, Delos, Tiryns, Epidaurus, Nemea, Eleusis, the temple of Apollo at Bassae, and Olympia.

Be sure to tune in next week as we step into the Hellenistic age with a guest post from historical fiction author Zenobia Neil.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Dragon: Genesis – Part VII Sibling Rivalry: The Plot to Kill Commodus

Commodus was guilty of many unseemly deeds, and killed a great many people.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History)

Salvete, history-lovers!

Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis, the blog series about the research that went into our latest historical fantasy release set in the world of ancient Rome.

If you missed part six, about the Antonine Plague, you can read it HERE.

In this seventh and final part of the blog series, we’re going to be taking a brief look at the children of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor (‘the younger’), the reign of Emperor Commodus, and the plots against his life.

Was Commodus really the monster we imagine him to be, the megalomaniacal ruler we were confronted with in the movie Gladiator?

Read on to learn more. 

Faustina Minor and Marcus Aurelius as Venus and Mars – Capitoline Museum

Some people view the reigns of Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius as a sort of golden age of rulership in the Roman World. That was certainly true of Antoninus Pius, and perhaps less for Marcus Aurelius’ reign, but any sense of a golden age certainly ended with the accession of Lucius Aelius Aurelius Commodus who ruled as sole emperor from A.D. 180-192.

It was at this time that the Roman Empire perhaps took a turn for the worst. The time of the ‘five good emperors’ was at an end.

Because of popular culture, the two children of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor that most people are aware of are Commodus and his sister, Annia Aurelia Galeria Lucilla, or ‘Lucilla’. However, what many may not know is that Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor had thirteen children together over the period of their thirty-year marriage.

Most of these young Aurelii died young. There was the first-born, Domitia Faustina, who died at the age of five in A.D. 151. Then there were Titus Aelius Antoninus and Titus Aelius Aurelius who both died in 149. After the birth of Lucilla in 150, two more children were born, Annia Galeria Aurelia Faustina, and Tiberius Aelius Antoninus who died in 151 and 155, respectively, before another unknown child died in 157. Titus Aurelius Fulvus Antoninus, Commodus’ twin brother, died at the age of four in 165, then Marcus Annius Verus Caesar passed at the age of seven in 169, followed by a young Hadrianus some time after that.

But there were other surviving siblings of Commodus and Lucilla who are not often mentioned in the history books, notably three more sisters: Annia Aurelia Fadilla (c. 159-211), Annia Cornificia Faustina Minor (160-212), and the youngest of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor’s children, Vibia Aurelia Sabina (170-216).

Obviously, infant mortality rates were very high in the ancient world, even for the upper classes. But, in hindsight, when one looks at the number of children Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor had, despite their mortality rates, one has to wonder if the emperor was indeed obsessed with having an blood-heir to the throne, despite the fact that he and his illustrious predecessors came to the throne through adoption.

Before we look at the reign of Commodus, let us first look at the children of Marcus Aurelius who did survive to play a part in the drama that was to unfold after the death of their father in A.D. 180.

Statue of Lucilla in the Bardo Museum, Tunis

Annia Aurelia Galeria Lucilla (150-182) was the eldest daughter to survive her parents. She was born about eleven years before Commodus. As we know, she was betrothed and wed as a teenager to her father’s co-ruler, Lucius Verus. After Verus passed away from illness, perhaps from the plague his troops had brought back from the East, she was forced to marry Tiberius Claudius Pompeianus, a respected general of her father’s who was quite a bit older than her, having been born in A.D. 125.

Snapshot of family tree of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor (Wikimedia Commons – Nerva/Antonine Dynasty)

Lucilla’s younger sister Annia Aurelia Fadilla (c. 159-211) was born and raised in Rome and was married to Marcus Peducaeus Plautius Quintillus, a senator, consul and augur. He was the nephew of Lucius Verus, but also became one of Commodus’ main advisors.

Fadilla and her family lived in a private palace on the Capitoline Hill, and it was she whom the ancient author, Herodian, says warned Commodus about the snaky freedman, Cleander, and a plot upon the emperor in 189.

But more on plots later…

Annia Cornificia Faustina Minor – sister of Commodus and Lucilla

Another sister of Commodus and Lucilla was Annia Cornificia Faustina Minor (160-112). She was married to an African Roman by the name of Marcus Petronius Sura Mamertinus who was consul in 182. This Faustina Minor and her family may have been with her father, Marcus Aurelius at the time of his death in Germania.

Around 190 or 192, Commodus ordered the deaths of Faustina Minor’s husband, son, and most of her in-laws. So, relations with her brother were strained at best. But, she survived Commodus’ reign, and even had an affair with the short-lived Emperor Pertinax. She lived into her fifties until, in A.D. 212, her death was ordered by Emperor Caracalla. Rather than be executed, this daughter of Marcus Aurelius committed suicide.

Vibia Aurelia Sabina – youngest sister of Commodus and Lucilla (Wikimedia Commons)

The youngest and longest surviving child of Marcus Aurelius and Faustina Minor was Vibia Aurelia Sabina (c. 170-216). She was born in Pannonia and travelled much throughout the empire.

The image we have of young Sabina is of an innocent, kind girl growing up with chaos all around her. Before her father’s death in 180, she was betrothed to an African Roman senator by the name of Lucius Antistius Burrus from near Hippo Regius. They were eventually married in Rome, after which Sabina moved to North Africa with her husband.

Despite a problem with her husband, which we will get into shortly, Sabina went on to marry Lucius Aurelius Agaclytus, a freedman of her father’s who may have foiled a plot against Marcus Aurelius. They had no children, but Sabina became a prominent Italian citizen of Roman North Africa who was well-loved by the Romans and native Berber population. She fared much better than her sisters.

Denarius of Commodus

And what of Commodus, the ruler at the centre of this family of orphan Aurelii?

Well, Commodus comes across as someone who was given too much power far too early, kind of like a child star who hits it big at a young age and then spirals out of control.

At the age of fifteen, in A.D. 177, Commodus became joint ruler with his father and was given the titles of ‘Caesar’, ‘Imperator’ and ‘Augustus’.

Cassius Dio, a contemporary of the period, gives us an account of his character:

This man [Commodus] was not naturally wicked, but, on the contrary, as guileless as any man that ever lived. His great simplicity, however, together with his cowardice, made him the slave of his companions, and it was through them that he at first, out of ignorance, missed the better life and then was led on into lustful and cruel habits, which soon became second nature. And this, I think, Marcus clearly perceived beforehand. Commodus was nineteen years old when his father died, leaving him many guardians, among whom were numbered the best men of the senate. But their suggestions and counsels Commodus rejected, and after making a truce with the barbarians he rushed to Rome; for he hated all exertion and craved the comfortable life of the city.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 1)

At first, Commodus did seem to make an attempt to rule well. He dealt (not personally) with minor problems like a Caledonian breech of the Antonine Wall in 183, and the subsequent mutiny there that was put down by Pertinax. He also organized shipments of agricultural produce from Africa to Rome, and freed the tenants of Roman growers in that province from a sort of servitude.

But these small gestures, it seems, were not enough to dissuade his detractors or would-be assassins.

The Roman Forum (by Becchetti)

Commodus devoted most of his life to ease and to horses and to combats of wild beasts and of men. In fact, besides all that he did in private, he often slew in public large numbers of men and beasts as well. For example, all alone with his own hands, he dispatched five hippopotami together with two elephants on two successive days; and he also killed rhinoceroses and a camelopard. This is what I have to say with reference to his career as a whole. 

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 9) 

And what of his siblings? How did they feel about their emperor/brother?

We already know that Fadilla helped to foil a plot by Cleander against her brother in 189, but not all of Commodus’ sisters were so forgiving of their brother.

The plot we do know of for certain is that of Lucilla’s. Hers was the first plot against Commodus.

In A.D. 182, Lucilla and her cousin, Ummidius Quadratus, a Roman senator, plotted to kill Commodus and place Lucilla’s stepson, Pompeianus (son of her husband, the old general Tiberius Claudius Pompeianus) upon the imperial throne. It is supposed that Lucilla and her stepson may even have been intimately involved.

It must have been the case that Commodus quickly showed himself to be incapable of rule, for Lucilla and her fellow conspirators wasted little time in plotting. However, the assassination attempt was badly botched and the younger Pompeianus and Quadratus were executed, and Lucilla was exiled to the island of Capri where she was later murdered at her brother’s command.

Oddly enough, Lucilla’s husband, the elder Pompeianus, was not punished, even though it was his son she had tried to put on the throne. The general subsequently retired.

The historian, Herodian, describes the failed plot:

He sent out to rule the provinces men who were either his companions in crime or were recommended to him by criminals. He became so detested by the senate that he in his turn was moved with cruel passion for the destruction of that great order, and from having been despised he became bloodthirsty.

Finally the actions of Commodus drove Quadratus and Lucilla, with the support of Tarrutenius

Paternus, the prefect of the guard, to form a plan for his assassination. The task of slaying him was assigned to Claudius Pompeianus, a kinsman. But he, as soon as he had an opportunity to fulfil his mission, strode up to Commodus with a drawn sword, and, bursting out with these words, “This dagger the senate sends thee,” betrayed the plot like a fool, and failed to accomplish the design, in which many others along with himself were implicated. After this fiasco, first Pompeianus and Quadratus were executed, and then Norbana and Norbanus and Paralius; and the latter’s mother and Lucilla were driven into exile.

(Herodian, Historia Augusta, The Life of Commodus, 3-4) 

Lucilla and Commodus in the movie Gladiator

It is not known whether Lucilla had been in touch with her younger sisters about the plot against Commodus. One supposes that they did not know, especially Fadilla, who would save him from Cleander later, or Sabina who was just twelve years old at the time.

What we do know is that after Lucilla’s betrayal, things changed for the worse in Commodus. The failed plot seemed to have ushered in a reign of terror. He became more hostile toward the senate and executed many, including his chief advisor Tigidius Perennis in 185, whom he replaced with Cleander.

Commodus, at this time, also came under the influence his mistress, Marcia, and his chamberlain, Eclectus. He tried to appease the populace by putting on extravagant games and shows, and to ingratiate himself to the troops by increasing their pay. All of this led to a huge financial crisis.

And what did he do to alleviate the situation? He confiscated the property of the rich.

Commodus was good at making enemies.

But his megalomania went even further, for he renamed Rome ‘Colonia Commodiana’ (Commodus’ Colony), and came to believe that he was Hercules incarnate.

Commodus as Hercules

Now this “Golden One”, this “Hercules”, this “god” (for he was even given this name, too) suddenly drove into Rome one afternoon from his suburb and conducted thirty horse-races in the space of two hours. These proceedings had much to do with his running short of funds. He was also fond, it is true, of bestowing gifts, and frequently gave largesses to the populace at the rate of one hundred and forty denarii per man; but most of his expenditures were for the objects I have mentioned. Hence he brought accusations against both men and women, slaying some and to others selling their lives for their property. And finally he ordered us, our wives, and our children each to contribute two gold pieces every year on his birthday as a kind of first-fruits, and commanded the senators in all the other cities to give five denarii apiece. Of this, too, he saved nothing, but spent it all disgracefully on his wild beasts and his gladiators.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 16)

Commodus’ increasing brutality, as well as his neglect of duty, drove other parties to seek his end. In 188 another conspiracy against him came about, but this time it involved the husband of Commodus’ youngest sister, Sabina.

Unbeknownst to Sabina, who was just eighteen years old at the time, Lucius Antistius Burrus plotted with others against Commodus. Details about this plot are lacking, but we do know that it failed and that Burrus was put to death.

Sabina, however, was spared, perhaps because she was not involved in the plot. She remained in North Africa and married Agaclytus to survive the rest of her family until A.D. 217.

The year after Burrus’ plot against Commodus, in 189, there came the plot that was set by Cleander, and foiled by Fadilla and, according to Herodian, another sister, possibly Faustina Minor, whose family had not yet been executed by her brother.

One can imagine the paranoia that must have beset Commodus (and indeed his sisters!) at this time, and how it would have fuelled the fires of his mania.

All plots upon Emperor Commodus had failed to that point, and many people had been executed in the wake of those failures…that is…until the very end of A.D. 192.

On New Year’s Day, in A.D. 193, Commodus was due to present himself to the people of Rome as Consul and Gladiator. He had reached new heights of violence at that point in time, and had become a threat to everyone.

The Emperor Commodus Leaving the Arena at the Head of the Gladiators (by Edwin Howland Blashfield)

Cassius Dio was present at that time, and gives us our most detailed, surviving account of the day and the plot involving many players, including Commodus’ mistress, Marcia, his chamberlain, Eclectus, the Praetorian Prefect, Aemilius Laetus, and a famous athlete by the name of Narcissus:

This fear was shared by all, by us senators as well as by the rest. And here is another thing that he did to us senators which gave us every reason to look for our death. Having killed an ostrich and cut off his head, he came up to where we were sitting, holding the head in his left hand and in his right hand raising aloft his bloody sword; and though he spoke not a word, yet he wagged his head with a grin, indicating that he would treat us in the same way. And many would indeed have perished by the sword on the spot, for laughing at him (for it was laughter rather than indignation that overcame us), if I had not chewed some laurel leaves, which I got from my garland, myself, and persuaded the others who were sitting near me to do the same, so that in the steady movement of our armies we might conceal the fact that we were laughing.

After the events described he raised our spirits. For when he was intending to fight once more as a gladiator, he bade us enter the amphitheatre in the equestrian garb and in our woollen cloaks, a thing that we never do when going to the amphitheatre except when one of the emperors has passed away; and on the last day his helmet was carried out by the gates through which the dead are taken out. These events caused absolutely every one of us to believe that we were surely about to be rid of him.

And he actually did die, or rather was slain, before long. For Laetus and Eclectus, displeased at the things he was doing, and also inspired by fear, in view of the threats he made against them because they tried to prevent him from acting in this way, formed a plot against him. It seems that Commodus wished to slay both the consuls, Erucius Clarus and Sosius Falco, and on New Year’s Day to issue forth both as consul and secutor from the quarters of the gladiators; in fact, he had the first cell there, as if he were one of them. Let no one doubt this statement. Indeed, he actually cut off the head of the Colossus, and substituted for it a likeness of his own head; then, having given it a club and placed a bronze lion at its feet, so as to cause it to look like Hercules, he inscribed on it, in addition to the list of his titles which I have already indicated, these words: “Champion of secutores; only left-handed fighter to conquer twelve times (as I recall the number) one thousand men.”

For these reasons Laetus and Eclectus attacked him, after making Marcia their confidant. At any rate, on the last day of the year, at night, when people were busy with the holiday, they caused Marcia to administer poison to him in some beef. But the immoderate use of wine and baths, which was habitual with him, kept him from succumbing at once, and instead he vomited up some of it; and thus suspecting the truth, he indulged in some threats. Then they sent Narcissus, an athlete, against him, and caused this man to strangle him while he was taking a bath. Such was the end of Commodus, after he had ruled twelve years, nine months, and fourteen days. He had lived thirty-one years and four months; and with him the line of the genuine Aurelii ceased to rule.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, Book LXXIII, 21-22)

Marcus Aurelius and family performing a sacrificium

It is a pathetic end to the rule of the dynasty, and one can’t help but wonder how Commodus’ surviving sisters – Fadilla, Faustina Minor, and Sabina – felt once their brother was gone. Faustina Minor may have felt justice had been done, even if she may not have been involved, for she had lost her family to her brother’s brutality. But Fadilla had saved him previously, and Sabina probably barely knew him. The dangers to the three of them would come later, during the reign of the winning dynasty in the subsequent civil war, the Severan dynasty, and the rule of Caracalla, another son who was not the ruler that his father was.

What was it about imperial fathers and their lesser sons?

Marcus Aurelius, by all accounts was a wise man, and yet, despite having inherited the imperial throne through adoption, he appointed a lesser person as his successor. The same occurred with Septimius Severus when he appointed his two sons Caracalla and Geta to succeed him. Severus even sought to repair the image of Commodus in 195, even going so far as to deify him!

Under Aurelius and Severus, the empire reached great heights, and yet it could hardly have fallen lower under each of their sons.

But such is the world of family and politics in ancient Rome. It doesn’t always make sense to us today, but it certainly is fascinating and entertaining.

We do hope you’ve enjoyed The World of The Dragon: Genesis blog series.

If you’ve missed any of the posts in this seven-part series, you can read them all together HERE.

If you have not already downloaded your FREE COPY of The Dragon: Genesis, you can do so by CLICKING HERE. 

Lastly, if you have read the book, please consider leaving a small review or comment at the bottom of the page HERE.

Eagles and Dragons Publishing will be taking a short summer break but will be returning in a few weeks with more posts about history and some exciting, highly-anticipated releases.

Stay tuned… Happy Summer, and thank you for reading.

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The World of The Dragon: Genesis – Part VI – The Antonine Plague: Pestilence and Pandemic in Ancient Rome

Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis. In our last post delving into he research for our latest historical fantasy novel, The Dragon: Genesis, we looked at the joint rule of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus. If you missed it, you can read it HERE.

In Part VI of this blog series, we’re going to be looking at one of the most brutal enemies Rome has ever had to face, an enemy that slipped past the frontiers and penetrated the heart of Rome itself.

We’re not talking about barbarian tribes north of the Danube frontier, or waves of Parthian cataphracts from the East. No, the most deadly enemy Rome had to contend with during the reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus was the plague.

And it almost completely destroyed the Roman Empire.

The ‘Antonine Plague’, as it is now known, began in A.D. 165 and lasted into the early 180s. It was the largest pandemic Rome had ever had to deal with to that point in its history.

This was an enemy that did not discriminate when it came to victims.

…after the victory over the Parthians, there occurred so destructive a pestilence, that at Rome, and throughout Italy and the provinces, the greater part of the inhabitants, and almost all the troops, sunk under the disease.

(Eutropius, Roman History, Book VIII)

Before we get into the few specifics of the Antonine Plague, we should first take a look at how Romans viewed disease, and what could have started a pandemic of these proportions.

Inscription dedicated to Goddess Mefitis (from www.katherinemcdonald.net)

In the ancient world, Roman medical practices were a strange mixture of practical Greek methods and Roman religious beliefs.

Disease and plague were to be feared, and the gods who were associated with them were to be propitiated.

In the Roman world, it was believed that sulphurous fumes that came out of the earth could be responsible for epidemics and plagues. As a result, the Romans made offerings to the Mefitis, a goddess of sulphurous fumes and of plagues.

A cult of Mefitis began in the volcanic regions of central and southern Italy, and her main shrine was located in Samnite territory on the slopes of the volcano of Ampsanctus.

In Rome, there was a temple of Mefitis on the Esquiline hill, and at Cremona, in the North of Italy, there was a temple dedicated to the goddess of plagues just outside the city walls.

Fumes coming out of the earth… Mefitis’ domain.

In addition to offerings to the Goddess of Plagues and Fumes, the Romans also held games in the hopes that these – also an aspect of religion – would help them to avoid disease and keep this deadly enemy from their doors.

The Ludi Saeculares, or Secular Games (also known as the Tarentine Games) were held once every century with the intention that they would help Rome avoid pestilence.

The fist Secular Games were held by the consul Publius Valerius Poplicola in 509 B.C. at the altar of Dis and Proserpina located on the Campus Martius at a spot known as ‘Tarentum’, hence the other name of ‘Tarentine Games’.

In addition to sport, the games also included three days and three nights of stage plays.

One has to wonder how it was decided when the Ludi Saeculares were to take place, and details are sketchy about this. But, we do know of two other instances in which the games were held.

Remains of the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine Hill

In 17 B.C. the Emperor Augustus held the games which culminated in a ceremony at the temple of Apollo, on the Palatine hill, a temple Augustus built. Among other things, Apollo was a god of healing. (Those who have read Children of Apollo, will be familiar with this temple.)

The Ludi Saeculares were also held in A.D. 204 by none other than Septimius Severus who came out the winner in the civil war that followed the death of Commodus, Marcus Aurelius’ son and heir.

Severus’ games came in the wake of the Antonine Plague, so it is likely that after the devastation, it was believed the gods needed to be propitiated once more.

What might have been the causes of the spread of disease in ancient Rome?

There are several possibilities.

First of all, sewage and bad hygiene were a prime suspect.

When we think of ancient Rome, we tend to think of baths, running water, pristine white marble etcetera, but this is not entirely accurate. Despite the presence of running water and sewer systems, the truth was that many Romans did not have access to these things, especially in poorer neighbourhoods like the Suburra. In ancient Rome, most sewers were privately owned by the rich, and so, in the poor, tightly-packed neighbourhoods where tenement blocks rose up from the streets, often the only place to dump faeces, garbage and other waste was directly onto the street. With the preponderance of flies and dogs around all this filth, bacteria was everywhere.

Another reason why disease might have spread were the public baths.

Baths of Diocletian (by unknown artist)

This seems contrary to what one might expect, but despite the Roman propensity for bathing and cleanliness, the hot water used in the baths of Rome and elsewhere was not cleaned chemically like today (using chlorine). As a result, bacteria would have thrived in the public baths.

Diet could also play a role in the spread of disease, especially as many Romans were malnourished. The diet of the average Roman consisted mainly of grains, distributed by the state. They had some vegetables and fruit, but meat was actually uncommon, and when they did have meat, there were no food standards to ensure freshness and quality. And so, food was often contaminated with parasites, as was the drinking water of most people.

Disease spread easily in densely populated areas, and as one of the most populous cities in the world at the time, Rome was especially vulnerable. This was certainly true in poorer neighbourhoods where many people shared small spaces, making the transmittal of disease easier.

The Antonine Plague was said to be transmitted through touch.

Lastly, another reason for the possible spread of plague and disease was deforestation around Rome and especially along the banks of the River Tiber. The clearing of trees led to the creation of rising water and an increase in the size of the marshes near Rome where mosquitoes and other carriers of diseases, such as malaria, flourished.

Coastal lagoon along shores of Lake Fogliano in the Pontine Plain – breeding ground for mosquitoes and diseases like malaria (Wikimedia Commons)

Part of the The Dragon: Genesis takes place during the Antonine Plague which began in A.D. 165.

This particular disease, however, did not originate in the city of Rome.

From A.D. 161-166, Emperor Lucius Verus was waging war against the Parthians in the East. While they were in Seleucia, a sickness began to spread among the troops of his legions, a sickness that they brought back with them to Rome and other parts of the Empire.

It was his [Lucius Verus] fate to seem to bring a pestilence with him to whatever provinces he traversed on his return, and finally even to Rome. It is believed that this pestilence originated in Babylonia, where a pestilential vapour arose in a temple of Apollo from a golden casket which a soldier had accidentally cut open, and that it spread thence over Parthia and the whole world. Lucius Verus, however, is not to blame for this so much as Cassius, who stormed Seleucia in violation of an agreement, after it had received our soldiers as friends. This act, indeed, many excuse, and among them Quadratus, the historian of the Parthian war, who blames the Seleucians as the first to break the agreement.

(Historia Augusta, The Life of Lucius Verus, 8)

The troops return!

What little we know of the disease comes from the observations of the physician, Galen, who was called upon by Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus at the time, and who recorded some of his observations in scattered texts, including his Methodus Medendi. 

From Galen’s descriptions, it is thought today that the Antonine Plague was an outbreak of small pox. The symptoms included severe fever, diarrhea, pharyngitis, and on the ninth day of the illness, the appearance of skin eruptions (boils or pustules).

Spread of Antonine Plague (map from romeacrosseurope.com)

And there was such a pestilence, besides, that the dead were removed in carts and wagons. About this time, also, the two emperors ratified certain very stringent laws on burial and tombs, in which they even forbade any one to build a tomb at his country-place, a law still in force. Thousands were carried off by the pestilence, including many nobles, for the most prominent of whom [the emperor] erected statues. Such, too, was his kindliness of heart that he had funeral ceremonies performed for the lower classes even at the public expense…

(Historia Augusta, Life of Marcus Aurelius, Part I, 13)

The Antonine Plague brought devastation to Rome and the Empire at large. Cassius Dio wrote that it caused up to 2000 deaths a day in Rome itself. It has been estimated that there were approximately 5 million deaths from this pandemic, and that about one third of the Empire’s population was wiped out.

One theory for the widespread destruction wrought by the Antonine Plague is that this was the very first time small pox appeared in the Empire, and so, without any sort of prior immunity, the people were as lambs to the slaughter.

It also massacred the army in which it had started, spreading to Gaul and along the entire Rhine and Danube frontier. Rome’s defences were down, and the tribes to the north chose this moment to attack.

Marcus Aurelius’ war with the Germanic tribes – scene from the movie Gladiator

It is hard to imagine the terror spreading across the Empire during this terrible time in which Rome was beset by the Marcomanni and their allies in the north and the plague at its heart.

Eventually, the barbarians were defeated – and that alone is a wonder! – but the plague, even though it eventually stopped, left the Roman Empire scarred. Entire towns were wiped out and outposts were lost because the troops were too sick to fight.

It has also been hypothesized that the Roman embassies that Marcus Aurelius had sent to China’s Han emperor were perhaps responsible for the outbreak of plague that was recorded there.

There can be little doubt that the Antonine Plague was perhaps the most deadly crisis Rome had ever been faced with. The plague did not discriminate, striking at rich and poor, weak and strong alike. It seems likely that it was also responsible for the death of Emperor Lucius Verus, who died two years into the northern wars, and maybe even Rome’s great philosopher emperor, Marcus Aurelius, who passed in A.D. 180 just before the end of the pandemic.

Relief of Emperor Marcus Aurelius performing a sacrifice

He died in the following manner: When he began to grow ill, he summoned his son and besought him first of all not to think lightly of what remained of the war, lest he seem a traitor to the state. And when his son replied that his first desire was good health, he allowed him to do as he wished, only asking him to wait a few days and not leave at once. Then, being eager to die, he refrained from eating or drinking, and so aggravated the disease. On the sixth day he summoned his friends, and with derision for all human affairs and scorn for death, said to them: “Why do you weep for me, instead of thinking about the pestilence and about death which is the common lot of us all?” And when they were about to retire he groaned and said: “If you now grant me leave to go, I bid you farewell and pass on before.” And when he was asked to whom he commended his son he replied: “To you, if he prove worthy, and to the immortal gods”. The army, when they learned of his sickness, lamented loudly, for they loved him singularly. On the seventh day he was weary and admitted only his son, and even him he at once sent away in fear that he would catch the disease. And when his son had gone, he covered his head as though he wished to sleep and during the night he breathed his last. It is said that he foresaw that after his death Commodus would turn out as he actually did, and expressed the wish that his son might die, lest, as he himself said, he should become another Nero, Caligula, or Domitian.

(Historia Augusta, Life of Marcus Aurelius, Part II, 28)

I hope you’ve ‘enjoyed’, or at least learned something from this post on the Antonine Plague and disease in ancient Rome.

If you have not read our latest historical fantasy novel The Dragon: Genesis, you can download a copy for FREE by Clicking Here.

Stay tuned for the seventh and final part in The World of The Dragon: Genesis blog series in which we will look briefly at the sibling rivalry that beset the reign of one of Rome’s most infamous emperors – Commodus.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Dragon: Genesis – Part V – The Two Emperors of Rome

Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis. In our last post on the research that went into this latest book, we looked at the Evocati of ancient Rome. If you missed it, you can read it HERE.

The Dragon: Genesis spans the reigns of a few emperors. It begins during the reign of Antoninus Pius, but then moves on into unique period for Rome, a time when it was ruled jointly by two emperors, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus.

Surprisingly, as we shall see, these two men ruled amicably, despite their differences. However, the peace of Antoninus’ reign was over, and the new emperors faced pressures and threats from outside.

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

First, we need to set the stage.

By the time Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus came to the imperial throne, the Roman Empire had enjoyed a period of unprecedented peace under the well-loved emperor, Antoninus Pius, who had reigned for the longest period of time since Augustus, from A.D. 138-161.

One of the only sources that survives for this period in Rome’s history is the Historia Augusta, a highly-contested, often doubted, source that relates some of the details of the reigns of certain of Rome’s emperors.

During Antoninus’ reign, a young Marcus Aurelius was already making himself known in the upper echelons of Roman society, so much so that he was a favourite of Emperor Hadrian before Antoninus Pius donned the purple.

It is believed that Emperor Hadrian would have liked for Marcus Aurelius to succeed him, but because of his young age, he chose Antoninus Pius. Prior to his death in A.D. 138, Hadrian, who cared much for the young Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, seems to have pressured Antoninus Pius into adopting them, thus ensuring their possible involvement in a later succession. Hadrian seems to have been a forward-thinking man.

Antoninus Pius, of course, agreed.

Marcus did not seem suitable, being at the time but eighteen years of age; and Hadrian chose for adoption Antoninus Pius, the uncle-in‑law of Marcus, with the provision that Pius should in turn adopt Marcus and that Marcus should adopt Lucius Commodus. And it was on the day that Verus was adopted that he dreamed that he had shoulders of ivory, and when he asked if they were capable of bearing a burden, he found them much stronger than before. When he discovered, moreover, that Antoninus had adopted him, he was appalled rather than overjoyed, and when told to move to the private home of Hadrian, reluctantly departed from his mother’s villa. And when the members of his household asked him why he was sorry to receive royal adoption, he enumerated to them the evil things that sovereignty involved.

(Historia Augusta, The Life of Marcus Aurelius 5)

Then, in A.D. 140, Marcus Aurelius was made consul with Antoninus and given the title of ‘Caesar’ which officially made him Antoninus’ heir.

Now, Antoninus, who was married to Hadrian’s niece, Faustina (the Elder), did have four children, two sons and two daughters, but they all died young, except for his daughter Faustina (the Younger).

In A.D. 146, Marcus Aurelius was married to Faustina the Younger, further cementing his role as Antoninus’ successor, a role he is said not to have wanted.

Gold aureus of Antoninus Pius

As time passed, Antoninus Pius grew older and weaker, and Marcus Aurelius took on more administrative duties for the empire, especially after the death of Antoninus’ trusted Praetorian Prefect, Gavius Maximus.

Then, in A.D. 161, while at an estate in Etruria, Antoninus grew ill and called the imperial council  together to formally pass the state to Marcus Aurelius. It is said that one of the last words he uttered when a tribune came to him for the night’s watchword was aequanimitas, or equanimity.

One has to wonder if Antoninus Pius really did feel a true sense of calm as he faced death, knowing that he had ruled well and that he was leaving the Empire in capable hands.

The reign of Marcus Aurelius was underway.

Marcus Aurelius

But Marcus Aurelius did not want to rule, and so the wheels were set in motion for the reign of two emperors and friends.

However, before we go further, let us look at these two men. Who were Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus?

Marcus Aurelius was born Marcus Annius Verus, and studies played a large role in the young man’s life. His teachers included Diognetus and Tuticius Proclus who seems to have introduced him to philosophy, a subject that Marcus took to immediately.

Philosophy played a large role in the life of Marcus Aurelius, affecting his life and his character. Even in A.D. 140 when he was made Emperor Antoninus’ heir, Marcus began studying with the sophist, Herodes Atticus, the man who built many monuments in Greece, including the great theatre beside the Acropolis of Athens. He also studied with Marcus Cornelius Fronto.

But it was the philosopher Quintus Junius Rusticus who is said to have introduced Marcus to the ways of stoicism that he would come to love and adhere to. Marcus Aurelius’ work, Meditations, was the product of his stoic view of the world and it is still widely read to this day.

One could say that stoicism is what got Marcus Aurelius through the more difficult times of his reign.

As far as a home life, Marcus Aurelius had thirteen children with his wife/cousin, Faustina the Younger, and among these were Lucilla and Commodus.

The Philosopher’s Life? Mosaic from Pompeii depicting Plato and students

It seems that Hadrian’s favour of Marcus, and the condition he might have placed on Antoninus to adopt Marcus in order to succeed, weighed heavily on the young philosopher. Marcus was Antoninus’ sole heir, but when Antoninus died in A.D. 161, and the Senate made Marcus ‘Augustus’, ‘Imperator’, and ‘Pontifex Maximus’, it is said that he resisted. He preferred the philosophic life, but his stoicism compelled him to accept his duty, and despite his reluctance, he rose to the challenge:

Toward the people he acted just as one acts in a free state. He was at all times exceedingly reasonable both in restraining men from evil and in urging them to good, generous in rewarding and quick to forgive, thus making bad men good, and good men very good, and he even bore with unruffled temper the insolence of not a few.

(Historia Augusta, The Life of Marcus Aurelius 12)

The Senate was going to confirm him as sole emperor, but Marcus refused unless Lucius Verus, his ‘brother’ beneath Antonius Pius, was given equal powers.

The Senate approved, and though officially, Marcus had more authority, Rome had two emperors for the very first time in its history: Imperator Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus, and Imperator Lucius Aurelius Verus Augustus.

Lucius Verus

What do we know about Lucius Verus?

Apart from what the Historia Augusta tells us, we know relatively little about Marcus Aurelius’ co-ruler.

Born Lucius Ceionius Commodus (the Younger), he was a member of the Nerva-Antonine dynasty, and his father, Lucius Aelius Caesar was Emperor Hadrian’s fist adopted son and heir. However, Verus’ father died in A.D. 138, and that is when Hadrian decided on Antoninus Pius as his successor.

Lucius Verus and Marcus Aurelius, though friends and ‘brothers’, appear to have been quite different.

Whereas Marcus Aurelius remains the calm stoic, preferring philosophy and a quieter life, Lucius Verus’ interests were said to be lower. He was fanatical about the games and chariot races, as well as gladiatorial combat, and he was said to enjoy lavish parties. He was quite the opposite of Marcus.

Lucius Ceionius Aelius Commodus Verus Antoninus — called Aelius by the wish of Hadrian, Verus and Antoninus because of his relationship to Antoninus — is not to be classed with either the good or the bad emperors. For, in the first place, it is agreed that if he did not bristle with vices, no more did he abound in virtues; and, in the second place, he enjoyed, not unrestricted power, but a sovereignty on like terms and equal dignity with Marcus, from whom he differed, however, as far as morals went, both in the laxity of his principles and the excessive licence of his life.  For in character he was utterly ingenuous and unable to conceal a thing.

(Historia Augusta, The Life of Lucius Verus 1)

Despite their differences, the two emperors seemed to have been able to make things work. It was as if they balanced each other. Marcus Aurelius is said to have disapproved of his co-ruler’s behaviour and vices, but he also saw that Lucius Verus fulfilled his imperial duties. Marcus even went so far as to betroth his eleven year old daughter, Lucilla, to Lucius Verus.

Things were looking bright in Rome. The emperors enjoyed the love of the people, and yet, there was great respect for the Senate and its traditions. Free speech was permitted, and the public service in government was running smoothly.

The Forum Romanum with the temple of Antoninus and Faustina at the back right

The reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, however, was not to be the period of Pax Romana that marked the golden age of Antonius Pius.

Sadly, the drums of war began to sound across the Empire.

Two major wars marked the period: the Parthian war (A.D. 161 – 166) in the East, and the Marcomannic Wars (A.D. 166 – 180) in the North.

Because of aggressions shown by Vologasses IV of Parthia, and the subsequent massacre of one legion led by Marcus Severianus, the governor of Cappadocia, it was decided that Rome’s legions needed to march east.

The campaign was led by Lucius Verus, while Marcus Aurelius remained in Rome.

In fact, Verus spent most of his rule in Antioch, overseeing the Parthian campaign which was, in many ways, a success. Order was eventually restored.

It is said that Verus was a responsible commander and that he brought back discipline to the ranks of the Syrian legions who had grown soft during the prior peace. He was a good commander who knew when and how to delegate to men who were more knowledgeable, including his generals Marcus Claudius Fronto, and Martius Verus.

However, his vices followed him there, and in Antioch he is said to have lived a life of extreme luxury with grand parties. And he kept himself updated on the chariot racing in Rome by ordering regular reports sent to him about his favourite teams.

He also spend a great deal of time in the East with his mistress, Panthea, a low-born woman who was said to be a great beauty. Still, despite this, he did travel to Ephesus c. A.D. 163 to marry Marcus Aurelius’ daughter, Lucilla, who was only about fourteen at the time. She became Lucilla Augusta and they had three children together, all of whom died young. After the marriage, Verus returned to Antioch.

Coin depicting Lucilla Augusta, daughter of Marcus Aurelius and wife of Lucius Verus

Lucius Verus certainly preferred bread and circuses to Marcus Aurelius’ love of learning and philosophy, but still, they seem to have worked well together.

When the Parthian campaign was successfully concluded, Lucius Verus was given the title of Parthicus Maximus. He and his men returned to Rome, but they were not only carrying coronae of victory with them. They also brought plague.

We will cover the ‘Antonine Plague’, as it is known, in the next post in this blog series, but suffice it to say, it was devastating.

And as Rome fought the plague at home, the Germanic tribes took the opportunity to attack in the North.

Depiction of the Marcomannic Wars on the Column of Marcus Aurelius

The Marcomannic Wars raged from A.D. 166 – 180 in a series of three major campaigns that took Rome’s legions across the Danube frontier against the rebellious tribes which included the Quadi, Marcomanni, Iazyges, Sarmatians, and the Dacians who had been peaceful for a time during the reign of Antoninus. It was an all-out offensive by the barbarian tribes.

This time, both Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus marched north with the legions to wage a war that would last the rest of their lives.

After two years of campaigning, the two emperors returned to Rome and it was then that Lucius Verus fell ill. Some said that it was food poisoning that killed him, but modern historians believe that it may well have been the plague that had returned with his men from Parthia.

Lucius Verus died and was grieved by Marcus Aurelius who, fittingly, put on games in his honour. He also had his co-emperor deified by the Senate as ‘Divus Verus’.

Marcus Aurelius now ruled alone.

Map of Marcomannic Wars (Wikimedia Commons)

After the death of Verus, Marcus Antoninus held the empire alone, a nobler man by far and more abounding in virtues, especially as he was no longer hampered by Verus’ faults, neither by those of excessive candour and hot-headed plain speaking, from which Verus suffered through natural folly, nor by those others which had particularly irked Marcus Antoninus even from his earliest years, the principles and habits of a depraved mind. Such was Marcus’ own repose of spirit that neither in grief nor in joy did he ever change countenance, being wholly given over to the Stoic philosophy, which he had not only learned from all the best masters, but also acquired for himself from every source.

(Historia Augusta, The Life of Marcus Aurelius 16)

Marcus Aurelius has come down to us as one of the most noble emperors of Rome, the last of the ‘five good emperors’ as they have come to be known.

After the death of his friend and co-emperor, Marcus Aurelius brought the Marcomannic Wars to a successful conclusion. He also improved the judicial system as well as the system for distributing food. The management of the treasury was made more efficient too. He saw to the care of children, and constantly improved the civil service of which he had been a part in his early career. The Senate too, remained respected.

If he made one mistake during his reign, it was perhaps to trust his own son.

After the death of Lucius Verus and a period of lone rule, Marcus Aurelius named his son, Commodus, as co-ruler in A.D. 177. We will not go into the details of Commodus’ rule here. We need only know that it was nothing like his father’s reign, or Antoninus Pius’ before him.

Equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius in the Capitoline Museum

Being the ruler of the greatest empire in the world could not have been an easy burden, especially for a man like Marcus Aurelius who had duty thrust upon him. This was in contrast to the life of thinking which he obviously preferred. In many ways, perhaps many of us can relate today. How many people live lives they had not intended for themselves?

Marcus Aurelius’ stoic philosophy no doubt helped him to come to terms with what fate had dealt him, but perhaps his insistence to the Senate that Lucius Verus rule with him was his way of alleviating some of the burden he felt?

It is difficult to say, but one thing we can be certain of is that, despite the lack of sources, the reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus will always stand out in the history of Rome as a time like no other.

If you have not read our latest historical fantasy novel, The Dragon: Genesis, you can download a free copy on the Eagles and Dragons website by CLICKING HERE.

Be sure to watch for the next post in The World of The Dragon: Genesis, where we will be taking a brief look at the effects of the Antonine Plague.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Dragon: Genesis – Part IV – The Evocati

Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis, the blog series in which we’re delving into the research behind our latest historical fantasy release, The Dragon: Genesis. If you haven’t downloaded your free copy of the book yet, you can do so HERE.

In Part III we looked at the division of the province of Dacia in the years after Trajan’s conquest. If you missed that, you can read it HERE.

Today, in Part IV, we’re going to be taking a brief look at a class of soldiers among the veterans of ancient Rome and how they often provided a strong back-bone in the ranks of Rome’s legions. We’re going to be looking at the Evocati.

In truth, primary and secondary sources do not have a great deal to say about the Evocati of ancient Rome. And yet, they were important, highly-respected members of society across the Empire.

So, what exactly was an evocatus?

The basic definition is that an evocatus was a retired Roman soldier who returned to duty after his completed term of service.

Some of you might remember this scene from the HBO hit series, ROME, in which Lucius Vorenus decides to go back into the service as an evocatus:

https://youtu.be/g1PBt0NDv64

HBO’s ROME was a great series, but this scene seems more akin to the vigil kept by a newly-made knight during the Middle Ages. Truthfully, we don’t know how much, if any, ceremony was involved around becoming an evocatus. It may have been more of a clerical process, though religion was a big part of daily life.

What the scene above does, however, is portray the weight of the decision that re-enlisting might have had for a Roman who had already served for years in the legions.

From what we can gather, the Evocati gained more importance and respect during the Empire versus the Republic.

During the Roman Republic, the Evocati were ‘called-out’, which is where the meaning of the word comes from. This implies that they were compelled to return to service rather than given the choice. Calling out the Evocati might have been akin to instituting a draft in the Roman world.

During the Empire, however, veteran soldiers were invited to continue service as evocati, or they re-enlisted willingly.

There were two classes of evocati– the regular evocati of the legions, and the Evocati Augusti, the ‘Emperor’s Evocati’, who were former Praetorians who became evocati.

Before we go further, we should take a brief look at the veterans of ancient Rome.

Firstly, how long a man served depended on which military force he was a part of. The lengths of time shift slight back and forth over the centuries, but generally, a legionary soldier served for 20 years, a Praetorian guardsman served or 16 years, and an auxiliary trooper served for about 26 years.

These terms of service might seem short to us today, especially when some people spend up to 35 years in a career, but it is important to keep in mind that the average age of mortality in the ancient world was much younger than today.

Twenty years spent in the legions was a much greater portion of a man’s life than we might think.

For veterans, the type of discharge one received was important, as it also determined the type life one might have enjoyed afterward. The discharge types were missio causaria (discharge through injury or illness), missio ignominiosa (dishonourable discharge), and honesta missio (honourable discharge).

If one completed the full term of service, and received an honourable discharge, then life was often pretty good. Veterans had legal status in ancient Rome, and were protected by laws granting them certain rights and immunities. They could go on to be local decurions (a sort of city councilor), and they could form collegia.

Veterans received land grants too, and it is said that Emperor Augustus settled about 300,000 veterans in colonies across the empire.

Emperor Augustus

Upon being honourably discharged, veterans also received money, in addition to land. A legionary received 3000 denarii (later raised to 5000), and a Praetorian received 5000 denarii (later raised to 8250). Soldiers were also given back the savings they had been forced to put away during their time in the army. Under Hadrian, the land grants to veterans stopped, but they were still given fair financial recompense.

It seems that world leaders today could take their cue from the ancient Romans when it comes to taking care of veterans after their service is finished.

Veterans were leaders in coloniae across the Empire, and there was a peace and security present where veterans settled. This in turn attracted other civilians as the veterans also provided a skilled workforce locally. They were good for the economy too.

One example of a thriving veteran colonia on the edge of the Empire is Thamugadi, in Numidia, which was located a short distance from the legionary fortress of Lambaesis.

Aerial view of the colonia of Thamugadi, Numidia (North Africa), where veterans of the III Augustan Legion at Lambaesis were settled.

Not everyone was happy, however, with the presence of Roman veterans. Tacitus tells us of the tension between local Britons and their retired Roman conquerors:

And the humiliated Iceni feared still worse, now that they had been reduced to provincial status. So they rebelled. With them rose the Trinovantes and others. Servitude had not broken them, and they had secretly plotted together to become free again. They particularly hated the Roman ex-soldiers who had recently established a settlement at Camulodunum. The settlers drove the Trinovantes from their homes and land, and called them prisoners and slaves. The troops encouraged the settlers’ outrages, since their own way of behaving was the same – and they looked forward to similar license for themselves.  (Tacitus, Annals XIV.33)

If most veterans who had been honourably discharged seemed to enjoy a good life (for them as Romans, that is), doing as they pleased on their granted lands, why might they have considered joining the ranks of the Evocati and going back to war?

Why were the Evocati even needed with so vast an empire?

Well, the Evocati were a sort of ready, trained militia that could be called upon in times of emergency, such as during the Boudiccan revolt of A.D. 60 when Governor Paulinus Suetonius called upon 2500 evocati to join the fighting. As Tacitus tell us, “the old battle-experienced soldiers longed to hurl their javelins. So Suetonius confidently gave the signal for battle.”

Artist impression of veterans defending Camulodunum

Evocati reported directly to the governor of a Roman province, so, in times of emergency, they could be used to reinforce the garrison.

Other reasons men might join the Evocati were the need for money if they had fallen on hard times, or even the need for purpose in life after the army. Just as today, it may not have been easy for a career soldier to reintegrate into civilian society, and so many might have welcomed the opportunity to go back to the ranks.

Lastly, men could be requested to re-enter service by the consul or their former commander. This happened frequently during civil wars. At the battle of Pharsalus, Pompey used 2000 evocati against Caesar, and later, Octavian enlisted 3000 evocati when going up against Marcus Antonius. In A.D. 67, Mucianus, the governor of Syria, is said to have enlisted 13,000 evocati to move against Emperor Vitellius.

I cannot give the exact strength…for the Evocati. Augustus was the first to employ this corps when he re-enlisted those troops who had served under Julius Caesar to fight against Antony, and he kept them in service afterward. To this day, they constitute a special corps and carry ceremonial rods as centurions do.(Cassius Dio, The Roman History 24)

When Augustus made the Evocati a sort of official class, as hinted at by Cassius Dio, was it just so that they could fight in times of emergency, or did they have some other purpose? What incentives were there for a veteran who had already served for years in the army to return to service?

Praetorian officers

It seems that when a man became an evocatus, he had special privileges. The Evocati did not go back to digging ditches and manning the front lines in battle. They were too valuable an asset for that.

Apart from fighting when the need arose, the Evocati fulfilled various other roles. They became instructors of aquilifers and other standard bearers, and physical trainers for the regular troops. Many evocati returned to the ranks to be officers or qualified and skilled administrators in the legions. Some joined the vigiles, Rome’s police and firefighting force. Others were army surveyors, architects, and quarter masters.

There were many roles an evocatus could fill in the legions.

More often, the higher-ranking and skilled evocati came from the Praetorian Guard, though sometimes from the regular legions. It could be a plum job.

Grave stele of Marcus Valerius Celerinus, a veteran stationed on the German frontier

Grave Stele of Mira and Marcus Attius Rufus, veteran of II Adiutrix legion

Rome had a massive military force when you consider the regular legions, Praetorian Guard, and numerous auxiliary forces across the Empire. It has been estimated that about 250 men left each legion every year, and that about 15,000 soldiers retired from the Roman military annually.

That’s a huge number of trained troops to loose on a regular basis!

But Rome took care of it’s veterans for the most part. Men were rewarded accordingly for their years of service with money and lands. They could become valued and respected members of society, leaders in their own right. And even after their term as evocati, these veterans maintained that respect.

The Evocati of ancient Rome were, it seems, not only a skilled fighting force that could be called upon in times of need, but they were also a respected and important class in Roman society.

It may not have been a lavish lifestyle, but it does seem that life as an evocatus might have been better than most.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post about the Evocati in ancient Rome, and the research that went into creating one of the characters in The Dragon: Genesis.

If you have not already downloaded your FREE copy of The Dragon: Genesis, you can do so by CLICKING HERE.

Stay tuned for the next post in The World of The Dragon: Genesis when we will take a brief look at the joint rule of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Dragon: Genesis – Part III – The Three Dacias

Welcome to the third part of this blog series about the world of The Dragon: Genesis. If you missed part two about the cursus honorum in ancient Rome, you can check it out HERE.

In Part III we are heading to what was once one of the most violent frontiers in the Roman Empire where, in the early second century A.D., one of the most famous of Rome’s military campaigns was waged. We’re heading into Dacia.

This is not, however, an in-depth study of the Roman campaign to conquer Dacia, but rather of the later division of the province, a move that heralded the importance of this province, and its resources, to Rome.

The ancient kingdom of Dacia, even now, conjures images of dark, mountainous forests where fearless warriors dwelled and worshiped strange gods. Today, the ancient lands of the Dacians comprise the region of modern Romania that strikes fear into the hearts of many: Transylvania.

But when the Romans waged war in Dacia, they were not fighting vampires or werewolves (read The Carpathian Interlude for that!). They were fighting a hearty race of warriors who would not be cowed by Rome’s might, and for years, the eyes of the Empire were set upon this area of Rome’s northern frontier. 

The Carpathian Mountains

Rome and Dacian had been at odds for decades before the Emperor Trajan and his legions marched across the Danube.

Truly, Dacian aggression had received a boost since the defeat of a Roman army at the battle of Histria (c. 62 B.C.), during the Mithridatic Wars, under the great Dacian King, Burebista. Many years later, there was a resurgence in Dacian pride under King Duras who, in A.D. 85 attacked the Roman province of Moesia. Rome was defeated again by the Dacians at the battle of Tapae in A.D. 88. After this, Rome strengthened the front, but it was widely suspected that Dacia would have to be dealt with.

Enter emperor Trajan. He is perhaps the reason we are so familiar with the name of Dacia.

Emperor Trajan invaded Dacia in two big campaigns in A.D. 101-102 and A.D. 105-106, not only to end Dacian aggression, but also to annex a new province for Rome that was extremely rich in resources.

After spending some time in Rome he [Trajan] made a campaign against the Dacians; for he took into account their past deeds and was grieved at the amount of money they were receiving annually, and he also observed that their power and their pride were increasing. Decebalus, learning of his advance, became frightened, since he well knew that on the former occasion it was not the Romans that he had conquered, but Domitian, whereas now he would be fighting against both Romans and Trajan, the emperor. (Cassius Dio; Roman History, Book LXVIII)

Roman troops with Emperor Trajan

Trajan crossed the Danube into Dacia with 50,000 troops in A.D. 101. After the second battle of Tapae, in which the Dacian king, Decebalus, was defeated, the Romans pressed on toward the Dacian capital of Sarmizegethusa. The Dacian king was no fool, however, and he sought terms so that he could fight another day.

That day came in A.D. 105 when the Dacians attacked Roman outposts. This time, Emperor Trajan marched into Dacia and destroyed Sarmizegethusa. Decebalus committed suicide. The campaign is portrayed on the famous monument we now know as Trajan’s Column.

Despite some resistance under the Dacian king, Bicilis, Dacia became a new Roman province.

Trajan, having crossed the Ister by means of the bridge, conducted the war with safe prudence rather than with haste, and eventually, after a hard struggle, vanquished the Dacians. In the course of the campaign he himself performed many deeds of good generalship and bravery, and his troops ran many risks and displayed great prowess on his behalf. It was here that a certain horseman, after being carried, badly wounded, from the battle in the hope that he could be healed, when he found that he could not recover, rushed from his tent (for his injury had not yet reached his heart) and, taking his place once more in the line, perished after displaying great feats of valour. Decebalus, when his capital and all his territory had been occupied and he was himself in danger of being captured, committed suicide; and his head was brought to Rome. In this way Dacia became subject to the Romans, and Trajan founded cities there. The treasures of Decebalus were also discovered… (Cassius Dio; Roman History, Book LXVIII)

In conquering Dacia, Rome managed to add a resource-rich province to the empire. It was an extremely fertile land, perfect for agriculture, especially grain, which Rome always needed more of. The lands were ideally suited for livestock breeding, and the mountains yielded something which most civilizations hunger for: gold.

Over the years, Rome invested in massive mining operations in the province of Dacia and that, coupled with the other industries, meant that peace in Dacia would be highly profitable. Massive building projects were undertaken over the years with roads connecting military camps and ten cities, eight of which were coloniae where veteran troops were settled to begin new lives and families as part of the massive colonization project.

Trajan’s Column – King Decebalus commits suicide as Roman cavalry closes in on him

Dacia was developed into a new, urban province, and Rome was eager to protect this investment with a permanent garrison of about 35,000 troops which included two legions and up to forty auxiliary units.

At first, Rome had two administrative centres in Dacia. The first was Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegethusa, located just forty kilometres from the former Dacian capital of Sarmizegethusa Regia. This was the seat of the imperial procurator, Rome’s head finance officer in the province. The second main city at the time was Apulum. This was the seat of the military governor in Dacia, the greatest city in the province, and one of the largest along the entire Danube frontier. The XIII Gemina Legion was based there (the same legion that crossed the Rubicon with Caesar long before) within the walls of a fortress that covered 93 acres (37.5 hectares).

There was peace in Dacia after the conquest, but it was not without threat. Around the fringes of Rome’s new province, in the eastern Carpathian mountains and elsewhere, the ‘Free Dacians’, those tribes not under Rome’s direct control, posed a constant threat. That threat merited the massive garrison that was present in Roman-controlled Dacia. In the years to come, the Free Dacians would ally themselves with the powerful Sarmatians who would later put up a strong resistance to the later emperor, Marcus Aurelius.

Roman Dacia with Apulum in the middle, just east of the Dacian gold mines

During the reign of Emperor Hadrian (A.D. 117-138), Rome almost withdrew from Dacia because of problems with the Free Dacians, but also the issues that arose from administering the province. Changes were needed, and rather than pulling out of Dacia, Hadrian decided to make some adjustments.

Dacia was to be divided into two, with a second province of Dacia Porolissensis being created in western Transylvania. The high officials now included an imperial legate with consular powers, two legionary legates in charge of the two permanent legions, and the imperial procurator in change of finance.

In the novel, The Dragon: Genesis, however, the time period we are most concerned with is the reign of Emperor Antoninus Pius (A.D. 138-161). Hadrian’s adjustments made a difference but it became clear that more was needed in Dacia, and Antoninus Pius took advantage of the period of peace in Dacia to take action.

Massive repairs were made to the infrastructure of Dacia. All roads were repaired, fortresses were reinforced and updated to be more permanent, and the structures of the coloniae and other urban settlements were repaired. One such site was the great amphitheatre of Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegethusa.

Remains of the amphitheatre of Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegethusa (Wikimedia Commons)

In A.D. 158, the Dacians revolted, and this event brought about more change in the province. This brought about the creation of what has become known as the ‘Three Dacias’.

The emperor decided to add two more regions to the already existing Dacia Porolissensis by creating Dacia Apulensis, and Dacia Malvensis. Each zone was governed by an equestrian procurator, each of whom was responsible to the senatorial governor of the province.

The administrative capital of Dacia Porolissensis was Porolissum. This had been a military camp established by Trajan during the second invasion in A.D. 106. The purpose of this settlement was to defend the main route through the Carpathian Mountains. Five thousand auxiliaries were stationed there, and there were temples built to Jupiter, Nemesis, and Liber Pater.

Reconstructed gate at Porolissum

The capital of Dacia Apulensis was Apulum, modern Alba Iulia. This is the setting for part of the novel, The Dragon: Genesis.

Apulum was the largest city in Roman Dacia and was the base of the XIII Gemina legion. It was also the seat of the military governor, which was not a coincidence, as the profitable goldmines of Dacia were located just to the west of Apulum and its legion.

Modern Alba Iulia, Romania, with the medieval castle on the site of the fortress of Roman Apulum

The third of the new Dacias was Dacia Malvensis, the capital of which was Romula (also known as Malva) in the south. This settlement was a municipium at first, but later it became an official colonia under Septimius Severus (A.D. 193-211).

Romula had two forts and was the base for men from the VII Claudia, XXII Primigenia, as well as detachments of Syrian archers.

Dacian Warriors of the 2nd century A.D. (Angus McBride)

Peace however, even during the reign of Antoninus Pius, was fleeting.

In A.D. 161, upon the death of Antoninus Pius, there was trouble in Dacia once more.

The alliance between the Free Dacians and their Sarmatian allies came to fruition during the reign of Marcus Aurelius.

The three Dacias were merged once again, and the mega province of Tres Daciae was created. The capital was moved to Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegethusa, and two full legions were on the alert – the XIII Gemina at Apulum, and the V Macedonica at Potaissa.

War had returned to Dacia and, unlike the long period of Pax Romana enjoyed by Antoninus Pius, it would occupy Marcus Aurelius in the region for most of his reign.

Ruins of Potaissa, base of V Macedonica Legion in Dacia

Much attention was given to Dacia over the years, especially to its administration. It was obvious that the province was of great importance to Rome, not only strategically, but more so economically.

There was, however, further conflict there through the reign of Emperor Commodus (sole emperor from A.D. 180-192).

During the reign of Septimius Severus, the Pax Romana was restored in Dacia and the frontiers strengthened. Severus’ laws allowing soldiers to marry helped them to integrate and form family bonds across the Empire, including in Dacia.

There is no doubt that the history of Rome’s presence in Dacia was long and varied, but there can be no doubt that Rome left its mark in that land, and it is a mark that can still be seen and felt to this day.

Be sure to stay tuned for the next part in The World of The Dragon: Genesis when we will take a look at the Evocati of ancient Rome.

Thank you for reading.

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