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Gladiators of Ancient Rome
When we think of ancient Rome and the Roman Empire, there are several images that come to mind – massive armies, marble temples and palaces, risqué parties, and emperors behaving badly. Whether these are accurate or not is somewhat beside the point. Depending of the books they’ve read, or the movies they’ve watched, different people will think of different things when it comes to the Roman world.
One thing that many people will think of when you utter the words ‘Ancient Rome’ is the amphitheatre (usually the Colosseum) and gladiators.
Gladiators – and charioteers, of course, – were the star athletes of their day, even though they were slaves on the social scale.
What had begun long ago as a funeral rite, over time, became one of the greatest and bloodiest entertainments in the Roman world.
In ancient Rome, gladiatorial combat was a popular form of entertainment. It was an integral part of Roman culture and provided a spectacle for the masses. Gladiators were trained fighters who engaged in mortal combat with each other, wild animals, or prisoners of war. The gladiatorial games were held in amphitheatres, and thousands of people would gather to watch the fights.
Despite the popularity of the subject today, and movies involving gladiators such as Gladiator or Pompeii, most newcomers to Roman history may not know that there were many different types of gladiators with distinctive weapons and styles of fighting. The Roman world was, after all, quite diverse, and the same went for the sands of the arena.
In this short blog post, we will explore the different types of gladiators and the weapons that they used.
Retiarius
The Retiarius was a lightly armoured gladiator who fought with a trident and a net. He also wore an arm and shoulder guard on one side, and sometimes greaves. The net was used to ensnare his opponent, and the trident was used to stab him. The Retiarius was often pitted against the Secutor, who was heavily armoured and carried a sword and a shield.
Secutor
The Secutor was a heavily armoured gladiator who fought with a sword and a large shield. He wore a helmet with a rounded top and small eye holes that gave him the look of a sea monster to be fought by the Retiarius, the fisherman, for whom he was the perfect match. The Secutor’s sword was short and straight, allowing him to make quick strikes and parry attacks. The Emperor Commodus, who used to fancy himself a gladiator, often fought as a Secutor.
Murmillo
The Murmillo was a heavily armoured gladiator who fought with a gladius and scutum. He wore a large helmet, an arm guard or manica, greaves with thick padding beneath, and a thick leather belt, or balteus. The Murmillo was often pitted against the Thraex, who wore a helmet with a griffin on it and carried a curved sword.
Thraex
The Thraex, or ‘Thracian’ fighter, was a lightly armoured gladiator who fought with a curved sword, called a sica, and a small, square shield. He wore a helmet and thick greaves. The Thraex was designed to be the perfect match for the Murmillo, and so these two gladiators were often paired off for the entertainment of the crowd.
Hoplomachus
The Hoplomachus was a heavily armoured gladiator who fought with a spear, a dagger, and a small round shield, reminiscent of the round shield of the ancient Greek Hoplite warriors of the past. He wore a helmet with a crest on top and a visor, a manica on one arm, and thick greaves. The Hoplomachus was often pitted against the Murmillo.
Dimachaerus
The Dimachaerus was a lightly armoured gladiator who fought with two swords. He wore a helmet, arm guards, and a thick belt. The Dimachaerus was often pitted against other dimachaeri gladiators, or the hoplomachus. Because this gladiator had no shield and only fought with two gladii or curved blades, it would have required a lot of skill to survive.
Provocator
The Provocator was a heavily armoured gladiator who fought with a gladius and a scutum. He wore a large helmet with a crest on top and a visor, a greave on his forward leg, and sometimes a breastplate. This gladiator was meant emulate the Roman legionary in the arena. The Provocator was often pitted against other heavily armoured gladiators, such as the Murmillo or the Secutor.
Equites
The Equites were gladiators who fought on horseback and would no doubt have added a lot of drama to the scene in the arena. They carried a lance, cavalry sword, and a round or oval shield. The Equites gladiators would also have worn a helmet, and sometimes a breastplate. The Equites were often pitted against each other or against other gladiators. The horsemanship skills would have had to be excellent to enable them to charge, wheel, and fight from horseback!
Bestiarii
While not strictly gladiators, the Bestiarii played a unique role in the arena. They were fighters who specialized in combat against wild animals. The Bestiarii used a variety of weapons, such as spears, swords, or even lassos, to subdue and kill their ferocious opponents. These gladiators had to possess exceptional agility and bravery to face the dangerous creatures. The Bestiarii fought wild animals in the arena, while Venatores were hunters of animals on occasions of wild beast hunts in the arena for the entertainment of the populace. If a person was considered damnatio ad bestias, that person was not a gladiator, but rather someone who was condemned to death at the mercy of the beasts, such as prisoners or persecuted peoples thrown to the lions. The use of animals in the arenas of the Empire caused the extinction of many of Europe and North Africa’s animal species.
Andabatae
The Andabatae were gladiators who fought blindfolded. They wore helmets with no eye holes, making it impossible for them to see their opponents or their surroundings. Armed with various weapons like swords, axes, or clubs, the Andabatae relied solely on their instincts and hearing to engage in combat. This added an extra layer of danger and excitement to the fights, both for the gladiators themselves and for the spectators.
Laquerarii
The Laquerarii were gladiators who specialized in fighting with whips. They were usually pitted against other Laquerarii or against animals, such as lions or bears. These gladiators demonstrated exceptional skill in handling the whip, using it to control and subdue their opponents or animals. Their agility and precision were crucial in navigating the dangerous encounters.
Essedarius
The Essedarius was a type of gladiator who fought from a war chariot that was meant to emulate the vehicles of the Celtic tribes of Europe whom Rome fought in Gaul, Britannia, and elsewhere. It is unclear from the sources whether the Essedarius rode the chariot into the arena and then dismounted to fight, or if they fought from the chariot cab while a driver whisked them around their opponents. The latter explanation seems more likely as it would have been much more dramatic for the audience. Who could forget the scene in Gladiator when the chariots burst into the arena!
These are but the main types of gladiators that one would have found on the sands of the arenas about the Roman Empire. Often, gladiators might have customized their equipment or changed things up a bit to align with their fighting personas.
There were other gladiators such as archers (Sagittarius), boxers (Cestus), and others, all of them risking death in the arena for the entertainment of the crowd.
In addition to male gladiators, ancient Rome also saw the presence of female gladiators, known as Gladiatrices or Ludia. While not as common as their male counterparts, these female warriors brought a unique and captivating element to the gladiatorial games.
While very little is known about female gladiators and their training, we do know that they existed and that they had stage names and personae similar to their much more common male counterparts.
Amazon
As a legendary race of female warriors, it is hardly surprising that the Amazons were a popular persona for female gladiators who drew inspiration from the mythical tribe of warrior women. They fought in a manner similar to male gladiators, wielding weapons such as swords, shields, and spears. These formidable fighters showcased their skills, strength, and agility in combat, challenging the notion that gladiatorial combat was solely a male domain.
Dimachaera
The Dimachaera were female gladiators who fought with two swords, similar to their male counterparts. These skilled fighters displayed dexterity and precision as they engaged in dual-bladed combat. Their agility and quick reflexes made them formidable opponents in the arena.
Secutoria
Inspired by the male Secutor gladiators, the Secutoria were female gladiators who were heavily armoured and fought with swords and shields. They wore helmets similar to the Secutors, with rounded tops and narrow eye slits. The Secutoria often faced off against other female gladiators or, very rarely, male opponents, showcasing their courage and combat prowess.
Retiaria
The Retiaria were female gladiators who adopted the fighting style of the male Retiarius. These gladiatrices engaged in combat using a trident and a net. Similar to their male counterparts, they wore light armour and were known for their agility and finesse in capturing and subduing opponents with their nets.
Essedaria
The Essedaria were a unique group of female gladiators who fought from chariots, demonstrating their skill in handling horses and engaging in fast-paced combat. They carried weapons like swords, spears, or bows, and unleashed their attacks while maneuvering the chariots. The Essedaria added a thrilling and visually striking element to the gladiatorial games.
Similar to their male counterparts, there would have been variations for female gladiators who adopted different fighting styles and weaponry. Some gladiatrices fought with weapons such as swords, shields, or spears, while others engaged in more unconventional combat using whips, lassos, or daggers. The range of fighting styles and weapons used by female gladiators added diversity and excitement to the arena that the crowd would have found spectacular and even titillating.
It’s important to note that while female gladiators did exist, they were not as numerous as their male counterparts, and their participation in the gladiatorial games varied throughout different periods of Roman history. The presence of female gladiators challenged traditional gender roles and norms, providing a platform for women to showcase their skills, strength, and bravery in combat.
Just because they existed doesn’t mean, however, that female gladiators were not a controversial topic. In A.D. 11, the Senate passed a law forbidding freeborn women under the age of twenty from participating in gladiatorial combat. And almost two hundred years later, Emperor Septimius Severus outlawed participation of women in the arenas of the Empire, claiming that such spectacles encouraged a lack of respect for women in general.
Despite Severus’ decree, it seems that women continued to fight as gladiators into the third century, after Severus’ death, at places such as Ostia.
Female gladiators made their mark in ancient Rome, defying societal expectations and participating in the intense world of gladiatorial combat. Their presence added an extra layer of intrigue and excitement to the gladiatorial games, highlighting the diversity and courage of these formidable women.
It’s important to note that while all the types of gladiators and gladiatrices and their weapons mentioned above were prominent in the Roman world, the gladiatorial games evolved over time, and variations existed within each category. Gladiator schools, known as ludi, played a significant role in training and honing the skills of these fighters. It was also big business!
The world of gladiators in ancient Rome was rich, diverse, and bloody.
It may not be Rome’s greatest contribution to society, but it has certainly left an impression that resonates today, as if the crowds of the Colosseum are still baying for blood.
Thank you for reading…
If you are visiting Rome, the Colosseum is a must-see for anyone interested in ancient Rome.
To get the most out of your visit, check out the skip-the-line tickets or special guided tours of the hidden places within the Colosseum that are available. CLICK HERE for more details!
The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part IX – Plautus: Playwright of the Roman People
Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!
Welcome to the final post in The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.
If you missed Part VIII on the theatre of Pompey, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.
In Part IX, we’re going to take a brief look at the ancient playwright whose work is central to the story of Sincerity is a Goddess: Plautus.
We hope you enjoy…
In misfortune if you cultivate a cheerful disposition you will reap the advantage of it.
– Plautus
Sincerity is a Goddess was always intended to be a comedy that involved the production of a play, but in the initial stages of research, one of the very first questions I had to pose myself was “What play?”
A lot hinged on the choice. Of course, when one thinks of ancient playwrights, one inevitably thinks of the great Greek playwrights, Aeschylus, Aristophanes, Euripides and others. But I knew that I wanted to use a Roman playwright’s work for this dramatic and romantic comedy, and so the choice inevitably came down to one between Terence and Plautus, the great comic playwrights of Republican Rome whose work was based on Greek New Comedy and subjects dealing with ordinary family life, love, and hilarity.
Terence’s plays are full of feeling. They are tender.
However, Plautus’ plays tended to be more comic and raucous with lots of music, songs, and duets that keep the audience at a distance. One might say that, in his time, Plautus had more popular appeal with the Roman people.
And so, I chose Plautus and his Menaechmi.
Let deeds match words.
-Plautus
Who was Titus Maccius Plautus?
Let’s take a brief look at the man and his origins.
Plautus, who later became the great Roman comedy writer we know of, was originally from Sarsina, a town in northern Italy in Emilia-Romagna.
Early in his life, he moved to Rome where it is believed he worked at a trade in the theatre, either as a stage carpenter or scene-shifter. He also made money at some form of business, perhaps to do with shipping, but that business went under. He also worked as a baker, apparently.
The second century A.D. writer, Gellius, gives us some hints about Plautus’ life before fame:
Now there are in circulation under the name of Plautus about one hundred and thirty comedies; but that most learned of men Lucius Aelius thought that only twenty-five of them were his. However, there is no doubt that those which do not appear to have been written by Plautus but are attached to his name, were the work of poets of old but were revised and touched up by him, and that is why they savour of the Plautine style. Now Varro and several others have recorded that the Saturio, the Addictus, and a third comedy, the name of which I do not now recall, were written by Plautus in a bakery, when, after losing in trade all the money which he had earned in employments connected with the stage, he had returned penniless to Rome, and to earn a livelihood had hired himself out to a baker, to turn a mill, of the kind which is called a “push-mill.”
(Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights)
Luckily, his exposure to theatre is what got hold of him, and it seems that he began to write…and write…and write. We may not know much about Plautus’ personal life, but we are very fortunate indeed that much of his catalogue of plays survived the ages.
Plautus wrote verse comedies, or fabulae palliatae which were based on Greek New Comedy, and he achieved huge success.
The plays of Plautus are the first substantial surviving written works in Latin and, no doubt thanks to the fact that they were so popular, they were copied frequently.
We know little about the man himself. Some hypothesized that even his name was not his true name and that ‘Maccius’ was actually a corruption of ‘Maccus’ the clown character in the Atellan farces, and that ‘Plautus’ meant ‘flat-foot’, referring to a character in the mimes. However, how many artists use stage names or pseudonyms? Lots, I’d say.
Though Plautus the man may be a mystery, we do know much about his extensive catalogue of works. It is not known exactly how many plays he wrote, but 21 have survived in their entirety, and there are fragments or mentions of an additional 30. In the quote above, Gellius alludes to many more as a possibility.
The metres of Plautus’ verse combined Greek metrical patterns with the stress patterns of the Latin language when spoken. But he went beyond simple translation.
Plautus adapted plays from Greek instead. He added much more music and songs, or cantica, like opera arias, then was normal in New Comedy. The performances were perhaps more like modern musicals which, in turn, partially owe their existence to Plautus’ work. Just think of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, by Stephen Sondheim. That musical is basically a great homage to Plautus!
Plautus’ plays appealed to Roman audiences because they presented a Latinized glimpse of Greek sophistication and outrageous behaviour that was outside of the audience’s experience. After all, theatre should be an escape!
Not by age but by capacity is wisdom acquired.
– Plautus
Plautus’ plays lacked the characterization and refinement of Greek New Comedy. His humour was more about jokes, verbal tricks, puns and alliteration that delighted the audience. He mastered the use of vulgarity, humour, and incongruity.
His stock characters were influenced by the Attelan farces, and included slaves, concubines, soldiers, and doddery old men. He created the ‘clever slave’ which would, in time, come to be known as a ‘Plautine Slave’. Often, the slave was smarter than his master, and even compared to a hero.
The plays involved everything from love and misunderstanding, to ghosts, rogues, tricksters, and braggarts who get humiliated in the end. Plautus only wrote one play based on myth, his Amphitruo. The rest of his plays portray the lives of more everyday people who his audiences could, more or less, relate to.
The Menaechmi itself is a comedy of errors about twins separated in infancy, in a Greek setting with numerous Roman references.
Not only did Plautus adapt Greek plays, he expanded on them and modified them in such a way that he made Greek theatre Roman!
Because he was a man of the people, having experienced their same toils, Plautus’ plays touched a nerve that made them extremely popular. They were performed for centuries after his death, well into the Renaissance, and his work was extremely influential on such greats as William Shakespeare (Comedy of Errors) and Moliere, who made use of many Plautine elements.
Like many comedians to this day, however, Plautus was not immune to criticism. Playwrights have always been rebels. The more conservative elements in Rome accused him of disrespecting the gods because his characters were sometimes compared to the gods either in mockery or praise. Sometimes, his characters even scorned the gods!
Some believe that Plautus was simply reflecting the changing tide of Roman society. He may have been controversial, but not enough to ban or prosecute him. Roman politicians were always keenly aware of the mood of the mob.
Conquered, we conquer.
-Plautus
War is a subject that seems constant throughout history. We are certainly aware of it today (sadly), as were Plautus and the Roman people.
During Plautus’ lifetime, the Roman people endured three great wars: the Second Punic War against Hannibal, and the First and Second Macedonian Wars against Philip V and Greece.
With the Second Punic War, the Roman Republic and people were fighting for their lives with the enemy being literally at their gates at one point. When it finally ended, they were exhausted by war, tired of it.
When certain powers in Rome wished to wage a successive war on Greece and Philip V of Macedon, the Roman people were not as supportive, and Plautus reflected these popular, anti-war sentiments in his plays such as Miles Gloriosus, and Stichus.
Many Romans did not want another war, and Plautus championed them in a way by giving voice to their anti-war voices and touching on themes of economic hardship forced on the citizens by the wars.
Sounds strangely familiar to us today, doesn’t it?
One could say that the greatest contribution of Plautus’ work, his genius even, was to take up the cause of the average Roman through comedy.
He was saying that the state should take care of its suffering people at home before undertaking military actions abroad.
We should bear in mind too that at this time in Roman history, when the Roman Republic was expanding and gathering power, Roman theatre was still in its infancy.
Plautus broke new ground in Rome. He made the people laugh, but he also gave them an important voice.
Since he has passed to the grave, for Plautus Comedy sorrows;
Now is the stage deserted; and Play, and Jesting, and Laughter,
Dirges, though written in numbers yet numberless, join in lamenting.
– Epitaph for Plautus, attributed to Plautus by Gellius and Varro
We have but scratched the surface of Plautus’ life and plays. Little more is known of him personally but, as with any writer, we can perhaps discern something of the man from the stories he put into the world.
There can be no doubt that the Roman world mourned his death on some level, as is attested by the moving epitaph shared by his fellow writers.
In a sense though, because so much of his work has survived time, and continues to be performed, to influence other art, Plautus is perhaps one of the most immortal of Romans.
The plays of Plautus are fun to read, even today, and I would encourage you to delve into them.
For my part, I truly enjoyed reading and re-reading the Menaechmi, and by incorporating it into Sincerity is a Goddess, by diving deep into the study of it, it has given me a new and wonderful insight into Roman theatre, and the man who was truly the playwright of the Roman people.
Thank you for reading.
Well, that is the end of The World of Sincerity is a Goddess. The curtain has fallen (or risen out of the ground, as was the case in Roman theatres!).
We hope you have enjoyed this blog series, and that you enjoy Sincerity is a Goddess if you read it. If you have read it, please leave a review on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website or on the store where you purchased the book. Reviews are a wonderful way for new readers to find this dramatic and romantic comedy of ancient Rome!
If you missed any of the posts in this nine-part blog series, you can read all of them on one web page by CLICKING HERE.
Sincerity is a Goddess is available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortar chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s for the edition of your choice.
The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part VIII – The Theatre of Pompey
Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!
Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.
If you missed Part VII on doctors in the Roman Empire, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.
In Part VIII, we’re going to be exploring one of the major settings in Sincerity is a Goddess: the Theatre of Pompey.
Not only does this theatre play a large role in our story, but it also has a fascinating foundation story in addition to being the site of one of the most infamous moments in the history of Rome.
We hope you enjoy…
When designing a theater, you should include porticoes behind the stage to house the audience when a sudden downpour disrupts the performances, and to provide some open space for the preparation of stage sets. The Pompeian Portico is an example of this.
(Vitruvius, Architecture 5.9.1)
In a previous post in this blog series, we already discussed the history of theatres in ancient Rome and how they started out as temporary wooden stages set up for festivals, only to be torn down at the end of the show. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.
The Theatre of Pompey, or the Theatrum Pompeii, is different in that it changed the game, so to speak. Its creation not only gave theatre its first permanent home in ancient Rome, but it also changed the architecture and purpose of theatres in general, an influence that can still be felt to this day!
The Theatre of Pompey was, of course, built by the general and politician Pompey the Great, a contemporary of Julius Caesar who had also been married to Caesar’s daughter, Julia.
In 62 B.C. it is said that on a visit to the island of Mytilene (Lesvos), Pompey was inspired by the theatre there. He was in his second consulship and so, to solidify his popularity he conceived of the idea of building a permanent theatre for the people of Rome.
However, Roman law forbid the building of stone theatres within the pomerium, the sacred boundary of the city of Rome. So, Pompey decided to build his theatre in the ager Romanus, the area outside the boundary of the pomerium, on the Campus Martius, the Field of Mars.
Construction is said to have begun around 61 B.C. with the theatre being completed around 55 B.C.
Despite building outside of the pomerium, there were still some conservative parties who opposed the construction of a permanent theatre.
Pompey, cunning general that he was, further circumvented the law against theatres by making the theatre itself a sort of substructure for the temple of his patron goddess, Venus Victrix. Opposite the stage at the top of the cavea, the auditorium, Pompey built a magnificent temple to the goddess. The seats of the auditorium, which had a capacity for well over 22,000 people, provided the steps leading up to the temple!
Now that the structure was mainly a structure dedicated to the goddess Venus herself, none could dare oppose its construction! The Christian writer, Tertullian, writes about this:
I especially wish to demonstrate for other Christians how those traditional spectacles of Roman entertainment are not compatible with the true religion and the true worship of the one true God.…
Let us consider the true nature of theatrical entertainment, beginning with the vice inherent in its setting. The theater, rightly seen, is a shrine to Venus. Indeed, this type of building came into the world in the name of Venus. For originally, even the heathen censors were concerned to destroy theaters as quickly as they arose, foreseeing the serious moral damage that would result from the licentious spirit of the theater.… Because of this attitude, when Pompey the Great (only his theater was greater than he!) had constructed that citadel of every vice and was afraid that because of this his memory might one day suffer from official censure, he added on to his theatre a temple to Venus, and when he summoned the people to the dedication, he did not call the structure a theatre, but a temple “to which we have added,” he said, “some seating for shows.”
(Tertullian, Pagan Entertainments 1, 10)
Rome had received its first, permanent, stone theatre complete with a large, wide stage, or pulpitum, aulaeum, the curtain that rose out of the ground before the stage, and a towering decorative scaena frons which provided the backdrop for performances, complete with doorways for the plays, and niches with statues above.
The Theatre of Pompey had it all!
According to the sources, the performances that were put on as part of the theatre’s dedication were Accius’ Clytemnestra, and Equos Troianus by either Andronicus or Naevius. It was a big event, such that the famous actor Clodius Aesopus was brought out of his retirement to perform in the opening show which was, of course, accompanied by gladiatorial matches with exotic animals. It was Rome, after all!
The Theatre of Pompey, however, was much more than a theatre, or a temple for that matter. It was an entertainment and administrative complex where the elite of Rome could meet, and where citizens could gather. It was something of an oasis in the city of Rome. Even poets praised its beauty…
Why, Cynthia, do you flee the city for smaller towns nearby?
I suppose the Portico of Pompey, with its columns of shade
And tapestries of threaded gold, seems squalid to you,
With its solid rows of plane trees shaped to an even height,
The streams of flowing water that slide off the Slumbering Satyr,
And the liquid sounds of splashing around the entire basin
When Triton suddenly blows the water from his mouth.
(Propertius, Elegies 2.32.11-16)
Connected to the theatre was a large area known as the quadriporticus which comprised an enormous area of groomed gardens with magnificent statues and fountains surrounded by columned porticoes.
Outside the far end of the quadriporticus, opposite the theatre, another temple complex was incorporated. This sacred area included more ancient temples to Juturna (A – 241 B.C.), the Aedes Fortunae (B – 101 B.C.), Feronia (C – 4th century B.C.), and the Lares Permarini (D – 2nd century B.C.).
As was often the case in ancient Rome, religious belief was a part of the everyday, including theatre.
As we mentioned, Pompey’s wonderful theatre complex was much more than an entertainment and social venue. It was also an administrative centre.
In fact, included in the complex of the quadriporticus was the Curia of Pompey. This meeting space was sometimes used as a place for the Senate of Rome to meet.
This is exactly what was happening on March 15th, 44 B.C.
Because of work being done on the Senate house in the Forum Romanum, the Senate of Rome was meeting in the Curia of Pompey. It was a day that would shake the Roman world, and set off another bloody civil war.
As Julius Caesar arrived at the Curia of Pompey for the meeting of the Senate, he was surrounded by a conspiring group of Roman senators and murdered.
The scene itself of Caesar’s death-struggle and assassination later made it clear to all that some spirit-power [daemon] had taken the event in hand to bring it about. For the meeting-site of the senate that day contained a statue of Caesar’s late rival Pompey, which Pompey himself had dedicated as one more ornament to his theater.…
(Plutarch, Caesar 66.1, 3-7)
The Ides of March were burned into the historical timeline from then on, and it happened at the temple and theatre complex built by Caesar’s one-time friend, son-in-law, and enemy, Pompey the Great.
The Theatre of Pompey had a long and storied history. It saw tragedy, comedy, beauty and bloody murder, and for forty years it was the only permanent theatre in Rome.
Eventually other theatres, such as the Theatre of Balbus (13 B.C.) were built around the Theatre of Pompey, seeking to enliven themselves by proximity to the latter’s splendour. This created a sort of theatre district in ancient Rome, and the Theatre of Pompey was at its heart.
The building of the Theatre of Pompey in ancient Rome was a turning point in theatre history, for it gave wider acceptance to theatrical performance, as well as a permanent home.
Theatrical groups from across the Roman world, including our fictional Etrurian Players, saw performing in that great place as the pinnacle of their careers, similar to artists getting to perform in places such as La Scala, Royal Albert Hall, or Carnegie Hall today.
The Theatre of Pompey also gave theatre complexes a much broader role in society which not only included that of a religious centre and entertainment venue, but also as an administrative centre, and an attractive public space. The latter is certainly something that is still holds true to this day in modern theatre settings.
In Sincerity is a Goddess, as one of the major settings, the Theatre of Pompey plays a crucial role in the story and in the lives of the players who are destined to perform there.
As in fact and fiction, there is history in that place, and it is keenly felt by all.
Thank you for reading.
Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.
The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part VII – Doctors in the Roman Empire
Salvete Readers and Romanophiles!
Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we delve into the research that went into the dramatic and romantic comedy of ancient Rome, Sincerity is a Goddess.
If you missed Part VI on the theatre and healing sanctuary of ancient Epidaurus, you can read that by clicking HERE.
Today, in Part VII of this blog series, we’re going to be sticking with the healing theme, only this time from the Roman perspective rather than from the Greek one, though they are related.
In this post, we’re going to be taking a look at doctors in the Roman Empire, as well as that famed centre of healing in the heart of ancient Rome, Tiber Island.
Going to the doctor’s office is never something one looks forward to.
For most, myself included, it gets the heart rate and stress levels up to step into a building that’s full of ‘sick people’. With our modern plague, I’m sure many of us are feeling that.
Sitting around in a waiting room with a group of scared, nervous, fidgety folks, is enough to drive you mad, and the sight of a white coat and stethoscope makes one want to run screaming from the building.
In a way, it was probably the same for our ancient Greek and Roman ancestors. Most civilians would have been loath to visit with a physician. It might not have been someone you wanted around, unless absolutely necessary.
When it comes to physicians in the Roman Empire, it has to be said that many, if not most, were Greek, and that’s because Greece was where western medicine was born. Indeed, the ancient Greeks had patron gods of health and healing in the form of Asklepios, Igeia, and sometimes Apollo.
The greatest medical school of the ancient world was in fact on the Aegean island of Cos, where students came from all over the Mediterranean world to learn at the great Asklepion. Hippocrates, the 5th century B.C. ‘father of medicine’, was from Cos and said to be a descendant of the god Asklepios himself.
When it comes to Roman medicine, much of it is owed to what discoveries and theories the Greeks had developed before, but with a definite Roman twist.
The fusion of Greek and Roman medicine in the Roman Empire consisted of two parts: the scientific, and the religious/magical.
The more scientific thinking behind ancient medical practices is a legacy owed to the Greeks, who separated scientific learning from religion. The religious, or rather superstitious, aspects of medicine in the Roman Empire were a Roman introduction.
Because of this fusion of ideas and beliefs, you could sometimes end up with an odd assortment of treatments being prescribed.
To alleviate your anxiety over your new business venture, you should take three drops of this tincture before you sleep. You should also sacrifice a white goat to Janus as soon as possible.
Many Roman deities had some form of healing power so it depended on one’s patron gods, and the nature of the problem, as to which god would receive prayers or votive offerings over another. Amulets and other magical incantations would have been employed as well.
Romans had a god for everything, and soldiers were especially superstitious.
Much of Greek medical thought opted for practicality in the treatment of wounds, and injuries; cleaning and bandaging wounds would have been more logical than putting another talisman about the neck. That said, let us not forget the aspect if divine intervention when it came to some aspects of healing in such places as Epidaurus.
All the gods were to be honoured, but in the Greek physician’s mind they had much better things to look after than the stab wound a man received in a tavern brawl.
For the battlefield medicus, things must have been much simpler than for the physician who was trying to diagnose mysterious ailments for someone in the heart of Rome. They were faced mostly with physical wounds and employed all manner of surgical instruments such as probes, hooks, forceps, needles and scalpels.
Removing a barbed arrowhead from a warrior’s thigh must have required a little digging.
Of course, in the Roman world, there was no anaesthetic, so successful surgeons would have had to have been not only dexterous and accurate, but also very fast and strong. Luckily, sedatives such as opium and henbane would have helped.
When it came to the treatment of wounds, a medicus would have used wine, vinegar, pitch, and turpentine as antiseptics. However, infection and gangrene would have meant amputation. The latter was probably terrifyingly frequent for soldiers, many of whom would end up begging on the streets of Rome.
It is interesting to note that medicine was one of the few professions that were open to women in the Roman Empire. Female doctors, or medicae, would also have been mainly of Greek origin, and either working with male doctors, or as midwives specializing in childbirth and women’s diseases and disorders. When it came to the army however, most doctors would have been male.
Army surgeons played a key role in spreading and improving Roman medical practice, especially in the treatment of wounds and other injuries. They also helped to gather new treatments from all over the Empire, and disseminated medical knowledge wherever the legions marched. Many of the herbs and drugs that were used in the Empire were acquired by medics who were on campaign in foreign lands.
Early on, physicians did not enjoy high status. There was no standardized training and many were Greek slaves or freedmen. This began to improve, however, when in 46 B.C. Julius Caesar granted citizenship to all those doctors who were working in the city of Rome.
This last point really hits home when it has become common knowledge that foreign doctors who come to our own countries today find themselves driving taxis or buses because they are not allowed to practice.
Modern governments, take your cue from Caesar!
One of the most famous physicians of the Roman Empire is Galen of Pergamon (A.D. 129-c.199). Galen was a Greek physician and writer who was educated at the sanctuary of Asklepios at Pergamon in Asia Minor.
After working in various cities around the Empire, Galen returned to his home town to become the doctor at the local ludus, or gladiatorial school. He grew tired of that work and moved to Rome in A.D. 162 where he gained a reputation among the elite. He subsequently became the personal physician of the Emperors Marcus Aurelius, Commodus, and for a short time, Septimius Severus.
Galen’s work and writings provided the basis of medical teaching and practice on into the seventeenth century. No doubt many an army medicus referred to Galen’s work at one point or another.
Galen is also an important character in A Dragon among the Eagles, the prequel in the Eagles and Dragon series. In the book, Galen, an old friend and colleague of Lucius Metellus’ late tutor, presents Lucius with a choice that could well change the direction of Lucius’ life. In fact and fiction, Galen is a fascinating person of history.
There was, of course, a difference between medical procedures that were frequently carried out on civilians in Rome versus what was needed on the battlefields of the Empire.
I’m not an expert in ancient medical history, but I do know that the level of injury on an ancient battlefield would have been staggering. The sight or sound of your unit’s medicus would have been something sent from the gods themselves.
Imagine a clash of armies – thousands of men wielding swords, spears and daggers at close quarters. Then lob some volleys of arrows into the chaos. Perhaps a charge of heavy cavalry? How about heavy artillery bolts or boulders slamming into massed ranks of men?
It would have been one big, bloody, savage mess.
Apart from the usual cuts, slashes, and puncture wounds, the warriors would have suffered shattered bones, fractured skulls, lost limbs, severed arteries, sword, spear and arrow shafts that pushed through armour on into organs.
If you weren’t dead right away, you most likely would have been a short time later.
This is where the ancient field medic could have made the difference for an army. He would have been going through numerous patients in a short period of time. He would have had to decide who was a lost cause, who could no longer fight, and who could be patched up before being sent back out onto the field of slaughter.
The medicus of a Roman legion was an unsung hero whose skill was a product of accumulated centuries of knowledge, study, and experience.
When it came to ancient Rome, the centre of health and healing was Tiber Island, and its foundation has a most fascinating story…
Tiber Island is a boat-shaped mass in the middle of the River Tiber where it runs through Rome. It was connected to the Field of Mars by the Pons Fabricius, and to the right bank, where modern Trastevere is, by the Pons Cestius.
The legend goes that the island was formed when, after the fall of the Etruscan tyrant, Tarquinius Superbus, in 510 B.C., the angry Romans threw his body into the Tiber where silt subsequently formed around it.
Another legend is that after the same tyrant died, the people hated him so much that they took all of his grain stores and threw it all into the river where it became the island.
Sic semper tyrannis, as the Romans would say…
Whatever the reason for the creation of Tiber Island, it seems that it was, early on, a place to be avoided as it was where criminals and the terminally ill were sent.
The story gets very interesting in 293 B.C. when a great plague hit Rome.
When the plague arrived, the Senate consulted the Sibyl, the Oracle of Apollo at Cumae, who told the Romans that they should build a temple to Aesculapius (Asklepios in Greek) in the city of Rome.
A delegation of Romans was sent to Epidaurus where Aesculapius’ most famous sanctuary was located, so that they could obtain a statue of the god for the proposed temple.
The delegation also obtained one of the sacred snakes from Epidaurus.
The story goes that as soon as the delegation returned to their ship with the statue and sacred serpent, the snake immediately curled itself about the main mast for the return journey to Rome. They took this as a good omen.
When the ship sailed down the Tiber and entered the city of Rome, the snake moved, slithered off of the ship into the water, and swam to Tiber Island where it settled itself.
The Romans took it as a sign that this was where they should build the temple of Aesculapius.
Since that time, Tiber Island has been identified with that ship, and even modelled to resemble it with travertine facing forming it to look like a ship’s prow and stern in the first century B.C., and an enormous obelisk erected to represent the mast of the ship that brought the statue and sacred serpent to Rome from Greece.
One can still see the carving of Aesculapius’ rod and serpent on the ship’s prow to this day!
In time, other shrines were built on Tiber Island such as to Jupiter Jurarius (Guarantor of Oaths), Semo Sancus Dius Fidius (Witness of Oaths), Faunus (the spirit of Boundaries), Vediovis (God of Healing), Tiberinus (the River God), and to Bellona (Goddess of War).
There was also a festival of Aesculapius and Vediovis every year on the first of January.
Just as it is today, good health was important to the Romans!
With the establishment of the sanctuary of Aesculapius on Tiber Island, the healing practices of Epidaurus were brought to Rome, including the use of the sacred snakes which were, it is believed, the species known as zemenis longissimus, a non-venomous serpent that could grow up to two meters in length.
The doctors also employed the use of sacred dogs whose licks were said to be healing for some patients. It is not surprising, I suppose, considering that some dogs can sniff out cancer, or restore circulation to injured limbs through licking.
Do the practices of the doctors of Tiber Island actually work in the story of Sincerity is a Goddess? Well, you have to read the book to find out. There is, we can say with certainty, a bit with a dog, a doctor with some interesting prescriptions, healing dreams, votive offerings, and a connection between Rome and ancient Epidaurus that is certainly felt on a deep level.
I’ve but barely scratched the vast surface on this topic.
For some, there is this assumption that ancient medicine was somehow false, crude and barbaric. But modern western medicine owes much to the Greeks and Romans, civilian and military, who travelled the Empire caring for their troops and gathering what knowledge and knowhow they could.
The fusion of science, religious practice, and magic provides for a fascinating mix. In truth, medical practices in medieval Europe were more barbaric than in the ancient world.
We owe much to the followers of Aesculapius and the traditions that flowed from ancient Epidaurus to the heart of Rome where there is still a working hospital on Tiber Island.
Thank you for reading.
Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.
The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part VI – Epidaurus: Place of Dreams and Healing
Happy New Year, and welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.
If you missed Part V on prostitution in ancient Rome, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.
In Part VI, we’re going to be exploring one of the most important theatrical and healing sites from the ancient world: Epidaurus.
We hope you find it interesting…
You may be wondering what a blog post about an ancient Greek theatre and sanctuary has to do with a story set in ancient Rome.
Well, let me tell you, it has a lot to do with it. Not only was the healing sanctuary at ancient Epidaurus well-known in the Roman world, but the great theatre there also plays an important role in Sincerity is a Goddess. However, not in the way you might think.
Don’t worry though, for there are no spoilers if you haven’t read the book yet.
In this post, we’re going to be taking a brief look at the two faces of ancient Epidaurus – the theatre itself, and the sanctuary of Asklepios which was renowned across the ancient world for its healing…and snakes!
Let’s get into it!
Firstly, as Epidaurus is, today, famous for its well preserved odeon, and as Sincerity is a Goddess is partially a story about a theatre troupe, we’ll start with the theatre itself.
I’ve been to this site several times in the past, and I never tire of it. Some places are like that, I suppose. You can visit them again and again, and each time you do you get a different perspective that adds to your overall impression of the site.
The theatre of Epidaurus is like that.
For the history-lover in me, going there is like visiting a wise old friend. We greet each other, sit back in the sunshine, reminisce, and contemplate the world before us.
There is something comforting about going back to familiar places.
When you enter the archaeological site from the ticket booths and follow the path, you find the museum on your left, its wall lined with marble blocks covered in votive inscriptions from the sanctuary of Asklepios (more on that shortly).
I don’t know why, but every time we visit Epidaurus, I’m always drawn to the theatre first. Perhaps it is more familiar, simpler than the archaeological site of the sanctuary opposite? You walk up the steep stone steps beneath scented pine trees and then, there it is!
The theatre lies in the blinding sunlight all limestone and marble, rising up in perfect symmetry before you with the mountains beyond.
It’s always a shock to stand there and see it for the first time, this perfect titan, an ancient stage beneath a clear blue sky where the works of Euripides, Aeschylus, Aristophanes, Sophocles and so many more have entertained the masses and provoked thought in the minds of mortals for well over two thousand years.
In ancient times, one’s view from this vantage would have been partially blocked by the stage building, or scaena, but as it is today, you have a perfect view over the ruins of that building’s foundations.
The Epidaurians have a theatre within the sanctuary, in my opinion very well worth seeing. For while the Roman theatres are far superior to those anywhere else in their splendour, and the Arcadian theatre at Megalopolis is unequalled for size, what architect could seriously rival Polycleitus in symmetry and beauty? For it was Polycleitus who built both this theatre and the circular building.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.27.5)
The theatre of Epidaurus is considered the best-constructed and most elegant theatre of the ancient world. It was built in the 4th century B.C by the sculptor and architect, Polykleitos the Younger, who also designed the tholos in the sanctuary nearby.
The theatre sat 14,000 spectators, and every one of them could see the stage and hear every momentous word that was spoken.
As people are wont to do when visiting this theatre, I’ve stood at the centre of the stage (the orchestra), and dropped a coin so that my family and friends could hear it where they sat at the top row.
Then I speak…
It is a surreal, dreamlike experience to do so, from that orchestra, for your voice is so loud in your ears, you can’t quite grasp what is happening at first. It feels like you are speaking into a microphone, your voice amplified. But there are, of course, no electronics, just an ancient perfection of design that has set the standard for ages.
I always climb the long central isle to the top row and sit down to take it all in. It’s a long way up, but the top provides the perfect vantage point of the sanctuary and landscape surrounding Epidaurus. I love to just sit there and listen to the cicadas, take in the view, and enjoy the dry, pine-scented air.
I’ve had the privilege of seeing Gerard Dépardieu perform in Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, and Isabella Rossellini in an adaptation of Stravinsky’s Persephone in the theatre of Epidaurus. It was amazing to watch such wonderful actors giving a performance there, and it was obvious too that they were enjoying the space, the tradition they were taking part in.
The last play I saw at Epidaurus was a performance of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, a comedy in which the women of Greece withhold sex from all the men in order to put an end to the Peloponnesian War.
When you see a play at Epidaurus, the audience is also participating in an ancient tradition. How many people have gone before us, sat in those seats, laughed and wept at the drama being played out before them?
It’s difficult not to think about that when you sit in the seats of Epidaurus. Whether you are basking in the hot rays of the Mediterranean sun, or waiting for a play to begin as the sun goes down and the stars appear, Centaurus and Cygnus twinkling in the sky above, one thing is certain – you will never forget the moments that you spend there.
Next, we’re going to venture away from the theatre for a brief visit to the museum, and then on into the peace and quiet of the Sanctuary of Asklepios, a place of miracles and ancient healing that was famous across the Greek and Roman worlds.
When you enter the abode of the god
Which smells of incense, you must be pure
And thought is pure when you think with piety
This is the inscription that greeted pilgrims who passed through the propylaia, the main gate to the north, into the sanctuary of the god, Asklepios, at ancient Epidaurus.
The ancient writer, Pausanias, gives us some interesting insights…
The sacred grove of Asclepius is surrounded on all sides by boundary marks. No death or birth takes place within the enclosure. The same custom prevails also in the island of Delos. All the offerings, whether the offerer be one of the Epidaurians themselves or a stranger, are entirely consumed within the bounds.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.27.1)
After the glory of the ancient theatre, it feels like something of a contrast to step into the quiet realm of the sanctuary of the God of Healing. This was a place that was famous around the ancient world for the miracles of health and healing that occurred there.
But perhaps the contrast is not so great? After all, Asklepios was the son of Apollo – an interesting union of healing and art – and it could be argued that the experiences one had in the theatre and the sanctuary were both transformative and healing.
Toward the back of the sanctuary there is a small, but wonderful, site museum that is well worth a visit for the collection of architectural and everyday artifacts.
The vestibule contains cabinets filled with oil lamps, containers and phials that were used for medicines and ointments within the sanctuary, as well as surgical implements and votive offerings.
Above the cabinets and into the main room of the museum, there are reliefs and cornices from the temple of Asklepios decorated with lion heads, acanthus and meander designs, many of which still have the original paint on them.
However, in the first part of the museum are some plain-looking stele that are covered in inscriptions recording the remedies given at Epidaurus, and the miracles of healing at the sanctuary in ancient times. These inscriptions are where much of our knowledge of the sanctuary comes from.
In the main part of the museum, your eyes are drawn, once more, to the magnificent remains of the tholos and the temple of Asklepios – ornate Corinthian capitals, cornices decorated with lion heads, and the elaborately-carved roof sections of the temple’s cella, the inner sanctum.
There are statues of Athena and Asklepios that had adorned various parts of the sanctuary, and the winged Nikes that stood high above pilgrims, gazing out from the corners of the roof of the temple of Artemis, the second largest temple of the sanctuary.
I wonder if people walking through the museum realize how beautiful the statues are, the meaning they held for those who came to the sanctuary in search of help?
After one cools off in the museum, it’s time to head for the sanctuary of Asklepios just north of the museum and theatre.
Every time I’ve visited, the sanctuary itself is usually completely empty.
It seems that most visitors head for the theatre alone, some to the museum afterward, but most do not want to tough it out among the ruins of one of the most famous sanctuaries in the ancient world.
The Sanctuary of Asklepios lies on the Argolid plain, with Mt. Arachnaio and Mr. Titthion to the north. The former was said to have been a home of Zeus and Hera, and the latter, whose gentle slopes lead down to the plain, was said to have been where Asklepios was born.
To the south of the sanctuary is Mt. Kynortion, where there was a shrine to Apollo, Asklepios’ father. Farther to the south are the wooded slopes of Mt. Koryphaia, where the goddess Artemis is said to have wandered.
This is a land of myth and legend, a world of peace and healing, green and mild, dotted with springs. The sanctuary was actually called ‘the sacred grove’.
Asklepios, as a god of healing, was worshiped at Epidaurus from the 5th century B.C. to the 4th century A.D. According to archaeologist Angeliki Charitsonidou, it was the sick who turned to Asklepios, people who had lost all hope of recovery – the blind, the lame, the paralyzed, the dumb, the wounded, the sterile – all of them wanting a miracle.
But who was Asklepios?
Some believed he learned medicine from the famous centaur, Cheiron, in Thessaly. Another tale from the Homeric age makes Asklepios a mortal man, a king of Thessaly, whose sons Machaon and Podaleirios fought in the Trojan War and learned medicine from their father.
Eventually, it came to be believed that Asklepios was a demigod, born of a union between Apollo and a mortal woman. His father was also a god of healing, and prophecy and healing, in the ancient world, went hand-in-hand. The snake was a prophetic creature, and a creature of healing, so it is no wonder this animal came to be associated with Asklepios and medicine.
At Epidaurus, snakes were regarded as sacred, as a daemonic force used in healing at the sanctuary. These small, tame, blondish snakes were so revered that Roman emperors would send for them when in need. Once again, Pausanias gives us some insight:
The serpents, including a peculiar kind of a yellowish colour, are considered sacred to Asklepios, and are tame with men. These are peculiar to Epidauria, and I have noticed that other lands have their peculiar animals. For in Libya only are to be found land crocodiles at least two cubits long; from India alone are brought, among other creatures, parrots. But the big snakes that grow to more than thirty cubits, such as are found in India and in Libya, are said by the Epidaurians not to be serpents, but some other kind of creature.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, 2.28.1)
I’ll stick with the tame blond snakes, thank you very much!
The thing about Asklepios was that he was said to know the secret of death, that he had the ability to reverse it because he was born of his own mother’s death. Zeus, as king of the gods, believed that this went against the natural order, and so he killed Asklepios with a bolt of lightning.
There are no written records of medical interventions by the priests of Epidaurus in the early centuries of its existence. The healing that occurred was only through the appearance of the god himself. However, over time the priesthood of Epidaurus began to question patients about their ailments, and prescribe routines of healing or exercise that would carry out the instructions given to pilgrims by Asklepios in the all-important dreams, the enkoimesis, which they had in the abato of the sanctuary.
It is quite a feeling to walk the grounds of the sanctuary at Epidaurus, to be in a place where people believed they had been touched or aided by a god, and actual miracles had occurred and were recorded.
Faith and the Gods are a big part of ancient history, and cannot be separated from the everyday. I’ve always found that I get much more out of a site, a better connection, when I keep that in mind. You have to remove the goggles of hindsight and modern doubt to understand the ancient world and its people.
From the museum you walk past the ruins of the hospice, or the ‘Great Lodge’, a massive square building that was 76 meters on each side, two-storied, and contained rooms around four courtyards. This is where later pilgrims and visitors to the sanctuary, and the games that were held in the stadium there, would stay.
Without a map of what you are looking at, it’s difficult to pick out the various structures. Most of the remains are rubble with only the foundations visible. This sanctuary was packed with buildings, and apart from a few bath houses, a palaestra, a gymnasium, a Roman odeion, the stadium and a large stoa, there are some ruins that one is drawn to, notably the temples.
The sanctuary of Asklepios has several temples the largest being dedicated to the God of Healing himself, within which there stood a large chryselephantine statue of Asklepios.
There were also temples to Artemis (the second largest on-site), Aphrodite, Themis, Apollo and Asklepios of Egypt (a Roman addition), and the Epidoteio which was a shrine to the divinities Hypnos (sleep), Oneiros (Dream), and Hygeia (Health). These latter divinities were key to the healing process at Epidaurus.
Ancient Epidaurus was a sacred escape where the mind, body, and soul could recuperate. It is a place of sunlight and heat, of fresh air and green trees set against a backdrop of mountains tinged with salt from the not-too-distant sea. Cicadas yammer on in a bucolic frenzy, and bees and butterflies wend their way among the fallen pieces of the ancient world as your feet crunch along on the gravel pathway, past the ruins of the palaestra, gymnasium, and odeion to an intersection in the sacred precinct of the sanctuary.
Here you find the temple of Artemis to your right as you face the ruins of what was the magnificent temple of Asklepios to the north. You can see the foundations, the steps leading up.
The image of Asklepios is, in size, half as big as the Olympian Zeus at Athens, and is made of ivory and gold. An inscription tells us that the artist was Thrasymedes, a Parian, son of Arignotus. The god is sitting on a seat grasping a staff; the other hand he is holding above the head of the serpent; there is also a figure of a dog lying by his side. On the seat are wrought in relief the exploits of Argive heroes, that of Bellerophon against the Chimaera, and Perseus, who has cut off the head of Medusa.
(Pausanias, Description of Greece, Book 2.27.2)
It is interesting that in a place where dreams were part of healing, the images carved on the seat of Asklepios portray some of the greatest heroes fighting and defeating their own ‘monsters’.
How many people in need had walked, limped or crawled up those steps seeking the god’s favour.
On your left you see a large, flat area of worn marble that was once the great altar of Apollo where pilgrims made blood sacrifices to Apollo and Asklepios in the form of oxen or cockerels, or bloodless offerings like fruit, flowers, or money.
Standing there, you can imagine the scene – smoke wafting out of the surrounding temples with the strong smell of incense, the slow drip of blood down the sides of the great altar, the tender laying of herbs and flowers upon the white marble, all in the hopes of healing.
As people would have stood at the great altar, they would have seen one of the key structures of the sanctuary beyond it, just to the west – the tholos.
The tholos was a round temple that was believed to be the dwelling place of Asklepios himself. It was here that, after a ritual purification with water from the sanctuary, that pilgrims underwent some sort of religious ordeal underground in the narrow corridors of a labyrinth that lay beneath the floor of the tholos’ cella, the inner sanctum.
After their ritual ordeal, pilgrims would be led to the abato, a long rectangular building to the north of the tholos and temple of Asklepios.
The abato is where pilgrims’ souls would be tested by way of the enkoimesis, a curative dream that they had while spending the night in the abato.
Miracles happened in this place, and there are over 70 recorded inscriptions that have survived which detail some of them – mute children suddenly being able to speak, sterile women conceiving after their visit to sanctuary, a boy covered in blemishes that went away after carrying out the treatment given to him by Asklepios in a dream. There are many such stories that have survived, and probably many that we do not know of.
As you stand in the abato, careful not to step on any snakes that may be hiding along the base of the walls, it’s a time to reflect on the examples of healing on the posted placard. It seemed that the common thread to all the dreams that patients had was that Asklepios visited them in their dreams and, either touched them, or prescribed a treatment which subsequently worked.
Sleep. Dream. Health.
When I think of those divinities who were also worshiped at Epidaurus, right alongside Asklepios, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched. In fact, standing there, in that place of peace and tranquility, it seems highly likely.
The people mentioned on the votive inscriptions – those who left vases, bronzes, statues, altars, buildings and fountains as thank offerings to the god and his sanctuary for the help they received – those people were real, as real as you and me. They confronted sickness, disease, and worry, just as we do.
Today, some people turn to their chosen god for help when they are in despair. Others turn to the medical professionals whom they hope have the skill and compassion to cure them.
At ancient Epidaurus, people could get help from both gods and skilled healers, each one dependent on and respectful of the other.
This place haunts me in a way. I always think about how special this place is, how the voices of Epidaurus, its sanctuary, and its great theatre, will never die or fade.
Indeed, just as Asklepios was said to have done, this is a place that defies death and time.
It is indeed fitting that the theatre and sanctuary go together, for both are healing experiences, forcing the mortal attendees to look inward, to delve into the darker depths of their selves to observe their own trials and tribulations so that they can manage their healing.
Theatre is a transformative experience, and so it and the healing sanctuary both deserve their places beside each other, as well they do in the pages of Sincerity is a Goddess.
Thank you for reading.
Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.
The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part V – Prostitution in Ancient Rome
Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we are taking a look at some of the research that went into our latest novel set in ancient Rome.
If you missed Part IV on the Games of Apollo, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.
In Part V, we are going to be taking a brief look at prostitution in the Roman Empire.
We hope you find it interesting…
WARNING: The topic discussed in this post, as well as some of the images of ancient frescoes shown, may be offensive to some readers. Discretion is advised.
Now, it should be stated at the outset that Sincerity is a Goddess is not an erotic romp through the streets of Rome. It is a heartwarming comedy. However, as mentioned in Part III of this blog series, on humour and comedy in ancient Rome, the prostitute was a stock character in Roman comedic drama.
In truth, you can’t really write about the Roman world without touching on the long-standing role that prostitution and brothels had to play in society. They were a large part of that world, an element of life in ancient Rome that spanned classes.
They existed, and they most certainly flourished. People – that is, men – of all levels of society made it a normal practice to visit their favourite brothel or prostitute.
If you liked the HBO show ROME – which is fantastic by the way! – you might have an image of Titus Pullo whoring his way through the Suburra with his jug of wine in hand. Certainly, this sort of behaviour was not uncommon, especially for troops fresh back from the wars and looking for a good time.
The flip side might be the richer, upper class nobility who may have believed visiting prostitutes was fine, as long as it was done in moderation and didn’t cause a scandal.
The prostitution scene in the Empire was as large and varied as the workers and clients who kept it running. There was something for everyone!
But let’s look at things a bit more closely.
One could say that prostitution has ties to the founding of Rome itself.
You may have read about Romulus and Remus, the brothers who founded Rome and were suckled by the She Wolf, or Lupa.
We have heard of lost children being raised by wolves before, but in the instance of Romulus and Remus, many believe that they were actually raised by a prostitute who found them on the banks of the Tiber. The slang word for prostitute in Latin was lupa.
And the word for brothel was in fact lupanar or lupanarium.
Clients were drawn in by the sexual allure of displayed ‘wares’, sometimes lined up naked on the curb outside, and the various experiences to be had within. The latter were sometimes illustrated in frescoes or mosaics on the walls of the lupanar. These were intended to add to the atmosphere, or were a sort of menu of pleasures to be had.
There were of course ‘high-class’ prostitutes who catered to wealthy and powerful patrons, women who were skilled at conversation, music and poetry. These high end lupae provided an escape, or a feast with friends, in lavish surroundings coupled with a sort of blissful oblivion. Some might have been purchased by their wealthy clients to keep for themselves, and if that was the case they might have ‘enjoyed’ a relatively easy life compared to the alternative.
The truth for most, however, was that they were slaves. And slaves in ancient Rome, as we all know, were objects, property to be used and disposed of on a whim.
Prostitutes – women, boys, girls, eunuchs etc. – were at the bottom of the social scale, along with actors and gladiators. They could be adored by clients one moment, and shunned the next. And if a lupa was no longer profitable, the leno (pimp), or the lena (madam) might sell them off as a liability, sending them to a life that was possibly even worse.
In ancient Rome, prostitution was legal and licensed, and it was normal for men of any social rank to enjoy the range of pleasures that were on offer. Every budget and taste was catered to, and because of Rome’s conquests, and the length and breadth of the Roman Empire in the early 3rd century, there would have been slaves of every nationality and colour. Clients of the lupanar would have had their choice of Egyptians, Parthians and Numidians, Germans, Britons, slaves from the far East and anywhere else, including Italians.
However, even though prostitution was regulated, we should not delude ourselves. This was not a question of morality, or curbing venereal diseases. This was about maximizing profit – prostitution was also taxed!
In Pompeii, prostitution became a sort of tourist trade. One theory contends that on the street pavement you just had to follow the phalluses to find the nearest brothel! There were numerous brothels, and that’s not counting the small curbside cells or niches where the cheapest lupae provided quickies to passers-by.
Because of the archaeological finds, the most well-known brothel in the Roman world was the ‘Great Lupanar’ of Pompeii, located at a crossroads two blocks from the Forum. Many of the frescoes pictured here are from that building which had ten rooms, where most brothels had just a few.
One might think that the subject of this particular post was rather fun to write about, that the images above are titillating. And sure, they are to an extent. I don’t mind a bit of risqué material on occasion. Why not?
But then, I can’t help thinking of the lives that these female, and sometimes male, prostitutes had to endure. Very few enjoyed the favour of kind and wealthy clients, living in luxurious surroundings.
Prostitutes were slaves and most were probably pumped and beaten for a bronze coin or two before having to receive their next tormentor. These people were objects to the rest of the world, not human beings. They were people’s daughters and sons, mothers, and sisters. In many cases they’d been taken from their homes on the other side of the world. Perhaps they were all that was left of their family?
For most prostitutes in the Roman Empire, life was a living Hades.
One thing is certain however. On the whole, prostitutes in the Roman world – be it Rome, Pompeii, or some far flung corner of the Empire – likely led tortured lives, living in squalid conditions while being brutalized by the male population. No matter how much one might like to romanticize the perceived sexual freedom of the Roman world, one cannot escape the fact that this freedom was supremely one-sided.
For some very interesting and sobering thoughts on the subject, watch this SHORT VIDEO interview with historian Mary Beard.
However, as I said, Sincerity is a Goddess is a comedy. The lupa in this book is not a tortured individual, but a more mature and savvy business woman who is quite skilled at reading people. She has, of course, had her share of hardship in her life, but by the time of our story, she has come through her toils a wiser and more confident person. Her character is crucial to the story and the journey one of our protagonists takes.
The Etrurian Players are coming! Brace yourselves!
Thank you for reading.
Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.
Sincerity is a Goddess is a Triumph!
Eagles and Dragons Publishing is proud to announce that our latest release, Sincerity is a Goddess: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome, has been awarded 5 Stars and the ‘Highly Recommended Award of Excellence’ by the Historical Fiction Company.
We are thrilled with the very kind words from the reviewers who posted a very lengthy, detailed review of the book.
Here are some excerpts from the review…
“Sincerity is a Goddess features a large cast of colorful characters that readers will fall in love with. Each one is unique, well developed, and remains believable as a character from ancient Rome. There is a large cast of characters and some readers may find it difficult to keep them all straight. It is clear the author anticipated this because the author includes a list of characters at the beginning of the book which will prove to be invaluable for many readers. The list includes both the characters’ names as well as a short description of each person so readers can quickly reference this list for a reminder if they become confused about characters.
The real gem of Sincerity is a Goddess is the author’s writing styles. Haviaras writes in a way that readers will find themselves immersed in the story quickly. Beautiful imagery and excellent character-related descriptions allow the reader to feel as if he or she were right there watching Felix Modestus and The Etrurian Players prepare for the biggest roles they will have. Haviaras was also able to describe the emotions of the characters in a way that builds empathy in the readers easily.
It is clear that the author has done extensive research about both ancient Rome and Roman mythology. Haviaras portrays both his character, settings, and events in a way that is very true to the time period while also making them very relatable to the modern reader. More evidence of Haviaras’ knowledge of ancient Rome is his use of both a variety of historically accurate vocabulary as well as Latin words. The Latin words could potentially pose a problem for some readers so, like his characters, Havarias remedies this by including a list of Latin terms at the end of the book that readers can easily reference. Roman mythology is deeply embedded throughout the novel and the author has done a fantastic job portraying the gods through their actions and influence with the mortal characters as true to the style of many Roman myths.
Humor is often difficult to incorporate throughout a historical fiction novel but Haviaras has done a fantastic job of weaving humor relevant to the historical setting throughout the novel as well. The humor, romance, and drama in this book combine to create an unforgettable novel that will appeal to a wide audience of riders. The book is quite lengthy which may prove to be a deterrent to some readers. However, the excellent pacing and humor makes the book a bit easier to get through despite its length. The length is also justified by the events of the story. Nothing seems to be extraneous or unneeded in the plot.
Sincerity is a Goddess by Adam Alexander Haviaras is a fun book that will touch readers’ hearts while making them laugh out loud. The modern writing combined with the historical setting and Roman mythology creates a book that is both enjoyable, entertaining, and even a bit educational at times. Readers will appreciate the historical accuracy as well as the humor that this book brings to the table. More than anything, Sincerity is a Goddess is the perfect book when you need a chuckle but also a beautiful reminder of the hope that can be found everywhere.”
– The Historical Fiction Company
To read the full review on the Historical Fiction Company website, just CLICK HERE.
Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortar chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy or get ISBN# information for the edition of your choice.
The Etrurian Players are coming! Brace yourselves!
The World of Sincerity is a Goddess – Part IV – The Games of Apollo
Salvete Readers and Romanophiles!
Welcome back to The World of Sincerity is a Goddess, the blog series in which we share the research for our latest novel, Sincerity is a Goddess: A Dramatic and Romantic Comedy of Ancient Rome.
If you missed the third post on humour and comedy in ancient Rome, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.
In part four of this blog series, we’re going to be looking at games, or ludi, in ancient Rome, and then specifically at the games in the book, the Ludi Apollinares, the Games of Apollo.
Let’s get started
Ludi, or public games, were an important occurrence on the Roman calendar. Not only did they give the gods their due through religious rites and rituals, but they also gave the people a chance to unwind and enjoy themselves.
Apart from the often very specific religious rituals dedicated to whichever deity the games honoured, there were often also processions, chariot races and theatrical performances. Early on, most ludi did not include gladiatorial combat as these were reserved for funeral games alone, or ludi funebris.
Not only did games in ancient Rome provide some much needed distraction for the people from the dangers of the day, they were also a way for politicians to buy votes. The reason for this is that, though games received some funding from the state, most of the cost of ludi were paid for by wealthy citizens.
When it came to positions on the Cursus Honorum of Roman politics, the responsibility of putting on, and funding, games most often lay with the aediles, those four politicians who were at least 37 years old and were charged with looking after the interests of the city of Rome. They looked after temples, markets, streets, squares, brothels, baths, and the water supply. Very important jobs indeed.
The aediles – and sometimes praetors – were also to ensure the success of the public games.
As mentioned, the Roman state did provide a very basic operating budget for games. For example, the Ludi Romani in honour of Jupiter, held from September 5-19, at one point received 760,000 sestercii, and the Ludi Plebii, held from November 4-17, received 600,000 sestercii. The rest – which was the majority of the expense – was paid for by the aedile or praetor sponsoring the games.
These games were extremely important events on the Roman calendar, a time when the lower classes could let go and enjoy feasts and entertainments for free, and when the upper classes could see and be seen.
Different ludi were dedicated to individual deities, and so religious ceremonies, often with very specific sacrifices, were also a part of the games.
Games were, first and foremost, considered sacred acts.
Games were also founded to commemorate victories, and this became a point of pride for rulers and politicians. An example of this is in the Emperor Augustus’ Res Gestae, or ‘Things Done’:
Three times I held gladiatorial spectacle in my own name and five times in the names of my sons or grandsons; in which spectacles some ten-thousand men took part in combat. Twice in my own name and a third time in the name of my grandson, I provided a public display of athletes summoned from all parts. I held games four times in my own name and twenty-three times on behalf of other magistrates… I have provided public spectacles of the hunting of wild beasts twenty-six times in my own name or that of my sons and grandsons, in the Circus or the Forum or the amphitheatres in which three-thousand five-hundred beasts have been killed.
(Res Gestae XXII)
Today, if someone boasted of so much killing, they would be considered a human abomination in most countries, but in the world of ancient Rome, acts such as these were considered extremely generous, gifts for the people, actions which helped to secure the favour of the people.
If the mob of Rome was happy, they did not cause trouble.
There were different types of ludi as well. There could be ludi votivi, which were held in fulfillment of a vow, or ludi funebris, which were funeral games paid for by a dead person’s family. Public ludi, as we have mentioned, were paid for by the state and the aediles or praetors.
The oldest games are said to be the Ludi Romani which were dedicated to Jupiter and are thought to have been held since 509 B.C. when the temple of Jupiter was dedicated on the Capitol of Rome.
Other games that dotted the Roman calendar were the Ludi Cereri held in honour of Ceres from about 202 B.C., the Ludi Plebii also held for Jupiter from about 216 B.C., the Ludi Megalensi, held in honour of Cybele, and the Ludi Taurii, held in honour of Mars.
And then there were the Ludi Apollinares which are a part of the story of Sincerity is a Goddess.
The advent of the Ludi Apollinares, the Games of Apollo, are a bit different in their origin from some of the other games. They were begun in the wake of one of the worst defeats in Rome’s history, and born out of a prophecy that was found after the fact. Let me explain…
The Ludi Apollinares were first held in 212 B.C. during the second Punic War, four years after Hannibal’s crushing defeat of Rome’s legions at the battle of Cannae.
In the wake of this defeat, with Hannibal at the gates of Rome, Hannibal ante portas!, the Romans found a prophecy in the Carmina Marciana, the prophecies of the seer, Marcius. Livy, recounts this in his history of Rome…
The importance attached to one of the two predictions of Marcius, which was brought to light after the event to which it related had occurred, and the truth of which was confirmed by the event, attached credence to the other, the time of whose fulfilment had not yet arrived. In the former prophecy, the disaster at Cannae was predicted in nearly these words: “Roman of Trojan descent, fly the river Canna, lest foreigners should compel thee to fight in the plain of Diomede. But thou wilt not believe me until thou shalt have filled the plain with blood, and the river carries into the great sea, from the fruitful land, many thousands of your slain countrymen, and thy flesh becomes a prey for fishes, birds, and beasts inhabiting the earth. For thus hath Jupiter declared to me.” Those who had served in that quarter recognized the correspondence with respect to the plains of the Argive Diomede and the river Canna, as well as the defeat itself.
(Livy, The History of Rome, Book XXV, 12)
The discovery of this prophecy made the Romans take action. We have to remember that this was one of the most terrifying periods in Rome’s history. Hannibal was at the gates of the city, he had defeated a far larger force in one of history’s great victories at the battle of Cannae to the south, on Italian soil.
The Romans did not want to experience such a defeat again and so the Ludi Apollinares were instituted originally as votive games for two purposes: to acquire the gods’ aid in expelling the Carthaginians from Italy, and to protect the Roman Republic from all dangers. They were, originally to be held once, but the year after, the senate passed a decree based on the proposal of the praetor, Calpurnius, that the Ludi Apollinares be held every year as circumstances allowed, i.e. with no fixed date.
In 208 B.C., after a plague in the city, the praetor, Varus, put forward a bill that the Games be held every year on the specific date of July 6th.
And so, the Ludi Apollinares became a permanent part of the Roman festival calendar.
But what did these games entail?
Luckily, another prophecy in the Carmina Marciana prescribed the specific rituals and sacrifices that should be performed to honour Apollo. Again, Livy recounts this:
The other prophecy was then read, which was more obscure, not only because future events are more uncertain than past, but also from being more perplexed in its style of composition. “Romans, if you wish to expel the enemy and the ulcer which has come from afar, I advise, that games should be vowed, which may be performed in a cheerful manner annually to Apollo; when the people shall have given a portion of money from the public coffers, that private individuals then contribute, each according to his ability. That the praetor shall preside in the celebration of these games, who holds the supreme administration of justice to the people and commons. Let the decemviri perform sacrifice with victims after the Grecian fashion. If you do these things properly you will ever rejoice, and your affairs will be more prosperous, for that deity will destroy your enemies who now, composedly, feed upon your plains.” They took one day to explain this prophecy. The next day a decree of the senate was passed, that the decemviri should inspect the books relating to the celebration of games and sacred rites in honour of Apollo. After they had been consulted, and a report made to the senate, the fathers voted, that “games should be vowed to Apollo and celebrated; and that when the games were concluded, twelve thousand asses should be given to the praetor to defray the expense of sacred ceremonies, and also two victims of the larger sort.” A second decree was passed, that “the decemviri should perform sacrifice in the Grecian mode, and with the following victims: to Apollo, with a gilded ox, and two white goats gilded; to Latona, with a gilded heifer.” When the praetor was about to celebrate the games in the Circus Maximus, he issued an order, that during the celebration of the games, the people should pay a contribution, as large as was convenient, for the service of Apollo. This is the origin of the Apollinarian games, which were vowed and celebrated in order to achieve victory, and not restoration to health, as is commonly supposed. The people viewed the spectacle in garlands; the matrons made supplications; the people in general feasted in the courts of their houses, throwing the doors open; and the day was distinguished by every description of ceremony.
(Livy, The History of Rome, Book XXV, 12)
It is truly fascinating to read this passage for it is quite specific from the amount to be spent by the state, and the specific animals with gilded horns to be offered to Apollo and Latona (i.e. Leto, his mother), and that this should be done in the Greek fashion, the ritus Graecus, that is, with the head uncovered for the sacrifice.
The prophecy also prescribes a joyful atmosphere that is pleasing to the gods in which people offer what they can, wear garlands, and dine together with the doors of their homes thrown open.
At these first games of Apollo, most of the events took place in the Circus Maximus of Rome and included chariot races – by far Rome’s most popular pastime – animal hunts, religious processions and, most importantly to our story, theatrical performances.
Interestingly, we have a record of one of the specific plays performed in the games of 169 B.C. and that was the revenge tragedy of Thyestes who was King of Olympia and the son of Pelops and Hippodameia.
I think it is a safe assumption that though theatrical performance was originally a small part of the games of Apollo, over time, more would have been included, especially under such emperors as Nero, who saw himself as a great performer.
The Ludi Apollinares were smaller games than the Ludi Romani or Ludi Plebii. After all, they received less funding. But, they did grow in popularity and, eventually, they went from being celebrated for one day on July 13th, to being held for eight days from July 6th to 13th.
More events would have been held over this extended period, and though it was still, at heart, a religious and votive festival, the theatre played a large part in it.
We can end on a small anecdote that I came across in my research that illustrates this and the importance of properly seeing through the required rituals.
In the second year of the games, in 211 B.C. there is a story that during a theatrical performance for the Ludi Apollinares, a cry and panic went up in the audience that Hannibal was at the gates – Hannibal ante portas!
The spectators rushed from the theatre to get their weapons and fight to defend the city. However, it turned out to be a false alarm.
When the audience members returned to the theatre, and the play that had been so harshly interrupted, they found the dancer still dancing, and the accompanying flute player still playing! It was a marathon performance for the two, and the audience cried out “All is saved!”
Hannibal did not attack the city.
I don’t know for certain if this story is true, but it is a good one!
The show must go on and, it seems, in ancient Rome, it was indeed a matter of life and death!
Thank you for reading.
Sincerity is a Goddess is now available in ebook, paperback and hardcover from all major online retailers, independent bookstores, brick and mortal chains, and your local public library.
CLICK HERE to buy a copy and get ISBN#s information for the edition of your choice.
The Etrurian Players are coming! Brace yourselves!
Saturnalia – A New Audiobook from Eagles and Dragons Publishing!
Salvete, Readers and History-Lovers!
Since it was officially formed as a company in 2014, Eagles and Dragons Publishing has been designing and producing quality ebooks and paperbacks for each of our titles.
And there have been a lot of exciting changes! We are growing as a company.
In 2021, we moved our cover design in-house, and in 2022 we began producing our very first, carefully crafted, hardcover books with wonderful results. And we’re continuing to put out more!
But there was always a piece missing: Audiobooks.
The reason for this is that audiobook production is extremely time-consuming and very costly… Unless you do it yourself.
Many of our readers began to ask about audiobooks, and so, we polled them to ask what they would prefer: an audiobook with professional actors playing our characters, or an in-house production with the author reading his or her own work.
As it turns out, 98% preferred an audiobook that was read by the author.
It is here that we should give a huge shout-out to our Patreon patrons for their generous monthly support, for it allowed us to begin acquiring the audio recording equipment we needed to make all of this happen. Thank you Patrons!
After some months of learning what is involved in recording an audiobook – technical specifications, soundproofing, and even learning how to read aloud for an extended period of time – Adam finally got down to recording! And, as with anything, the first try was definitely a learning experience. But we got there!
And so, today we’re thrilled to announce the official launch of Eagles and Dragons Publishing’s very first audiobook release, Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome!
We thought it would be prudent to begin our audiobook creation journey with a shorter novel, but also one that listeners could enjoy at this time of year. And with the start of the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia just around the corner, on December 17th, we thought this would be perfect.
This is not a big production with a cast of actors and sound effects. Just as some of our readers requested, our audiobooks are going to consist of the author reading his or her own work, just as if they were sitting with you at home, reading by the fire.
We hope you enjoy the experience.
Saturnalia, the audiobook, is being distributed to new retailers every week, but it is already available to purchase at a special launch price until November 30th, 2022 at the following audiobook retailers:
Kobo, Walmart
Google Play
Chirp
Scribd
NOOK Audiobooks
Libro.FM
BingeBooks
Storytel
If you have a smart speaker at home, you can ask ‘it’ to play the book for you to add a little festive atmosphere to your home his holiday season.
It’s a new adventure for our books, and we’re very excited to have you along for the ride!
Adam is already at work recording the next audiobook, so stay tuned for more titles.
In the meantime, we hope you enjoy listening to Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome!
Io Saturnalia! (a little early).
Thank you for reading.